The Vocation to Life

In 2010 I was awarded the degree of Master of Arts by the University of Winchester. I had studied for this degree through the Sarum College course on Christian Spirituality. For my dissertation I examined the relationship between the great medieval preacher, Meister Eckhart and the present day theologian Matthew Fox. There are several connections. First of all Matthew Fox wrote a large scale commentary on some of Eckhart’s sermons. Secondly, both men were Dominicans, members of the Order of Preachers. Thirdly, both were condemned by the Inquisition (or the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith, as that body is now known).

Much of Eckhart’s writing is in the form of sermons. He is rightly regarded as one of the greatest spiritual writers in the history of the Church. Despite being posthumously condemned as a heretic, that condemnation has been ‘lifted’ and there has even been the suggestion that Eckhart should be declared to be a Doctor of the Church. The process of him being condemned by the Inquisition began when he was still alive and we have at least part of his defence again the charges brought against him. He described his opponents as ‘fools’ and ‘asses’ as he fought back to state his case. Eckhart’s writing and his preaching are gloriously God-centred. He describes all images that we have of God as provisional. Indeed if we think that any given image has brought us to God, then we are deceived. We have reached a brick wall if we cannot understand that we must see through images if we want to begin to experience something of the deep mystery of the Godhead, which always lies beyond. A key word to describe this approach is ‘detachment’. Letting go of images to move into the life of the Godhead is the essence of the Christian life and the ultimate destiny of all creation. Perhaps it was inevitable that someone so vibrant in his perception of the divine should perish at the hands of the vested interests and politics of the church life of his time. He was up against experienced and learned theologians, who could argue the toss about what was or was not a valid theological position, but who could not see the truth about the life of the Godhead that Eckhart proclaimed. They had positions to defend and protect. Eckhart himself was a great theologian, twice holding the Dominican Chair of Theology at Paris, but he was a man who was both open to the Spirit and deeply committed to an expression of the spiritual life, which seeks to explore the mystery of God, rather than champion the fixed positions of orthodoxy.

The reasons why Matthew Fox was expelled from the Order of Preacher are complex, but his support for gay and lesbian people and his support for the ordination of women were not issues which enamoured him to the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith, the head of which was Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger. Fox found himself cast out from the community which had been his home. Not only did he have to leave the Order of Preachers, but he also left the Roman Catholic Church and became an Episcopalian. Fox uses strong and brilliant images to drive home his point. His language might be considered to be extreme at times, yet so often thereby he cuts through stale debates in a way which is radically challenging. He has his own point to make, fuelled by his experience of exclusion from the Church which nurtured him. Fox calls for a New Reformation and a divorce between what he describes as two forms of Christianity. ‘One form is patriarchal in nature, links readily to fascist powers of control and demonizes women, the earth, other species, science and gays and lesbians. It builds on fear and supports empire building’. The other form recognises awe as the starting point of true religion. The first form of Christianity, Fox describes as the ‘Museum Church’ and it should be left to bury itself. Those with a love of life should allow spirituality to replace religion.

Recounting a dream that he had, on the night before Ash Wednesday in 1994, Fox describes what it is like to feel you are outside the Church. He stands at an iron gate outside a garden. He wonders what his purpose might be. Then he cries at the simplicity and the clarity of the image. His place is there outside the garden. His role has been to share his vision with others. He has been dumped by the Vatican, but maybe his life and his life’s work have some meaning after all. Fox looks again at the gate. It is rusted and the garden that lies beyond is a garden no more. It has become a cemetery, a place of death and grief. For Fox, not only the Church is dying, but also society itself. Yet what he describes as the ‘vocation to life’ will continue beyond those structures.

I remain part of the Church because, in some crazy way, I feel that that ‘vocation to life’ has been given to me through a tradition and through structures which often seem so very corroded. I remain, sometimes by the skin of my teeth, in the hope that the Church is actually God’s Church and not mine. I do not know whether this Church I love will survive, but I live with the absolute conviction that the power of the resurrection life will continue to transform human lives, as indeed it has transformed my own. So I understand Fox’s image. Being outside the gates is a painful place to be, but it is where we begin to encounter others, real people, who have no interest whatsoever in the power-play of synods, but who long to celebrate life in all its fullness. I am also challenged by Fox’s image. At what point does being faithful to the ‘vocation to life’ become impossible amidst the weeds of the garden? At what point does living a life, which reflects the very mission of God in the world, become so compromised by prejudice, tribalism and fear, that claiming that ‘vocation to life’ can only be done by walking away from the Church? At what point does responding to Eckhart’s vision, of joining in the journey into the Godhead, become more of a lived out reality if we escape from the museum? I suppose my answer is that I still value the museum, because it is made up of people and in the relationships, which make up the web of the Church, there God can be found and the joy of the ‘vocation to life’ celebrated. Yet I am constantly challenged by the politics of church-life and I keep coming back to the question. Is what we are doing today leading others to discover that ‘vocation to life’?