The following essay is from a seminar class at McAfee School of Theology. The aim of the seminar was to teach students how to develop spiritual guidance for individuals and groups. Resource: Palmer, Parker J. A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward An Undivided Life: Welcoming the Soul and Weaving Community
in a Wounded World. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2004.
Parker Palmer, teacher, author, and
spiritual guide, challenges his readers in his latest work to view and engage
life through a holistic spirituality, which entails listening and discerning
wisdom from the teacher or soul within. Palmer, a Quaker (Religious Society of
Friends) at his roots, earnestly tackles aspects of reuniting one’s personhood
through an ethic he describes as “divided no more.” Through a process of
self-discovery, supported with the integrity and place-sharing of trusted
individuals, Palmer suggests that our truer nature or true self can take shape
and form within our everyday lives—witnessed by the way in which he eloquently
describes the negotiation of life through the means of a Möbius strip (pp.
45-49). He addresses an ever-present issue of reconciliation with oneself and
neighbor. Though, the waters may be choppy at times, Palmer exhibits a faith in
humanity that can eventually find its truer nature and purpose. His model for
such a journey engages the would-be traveler within an intentional community of
trust, which he defines as a “circle of trust.” The following reflection paper
will highlight Palmer’s main issues towards creating a circle of trust and its
inherent strengths and weaknesses.
TRUE SELF
Palmer’s understanding of knowing
our true self is equated to the shedding of masks or personae until what emerges is the soul. The soul, a precarious
sort, is coy and timid to say the least, and its functionality resembles the
following:
The soul wants
to keep us rooted in the ground of our own being, resisting the tendency of
other faculties, like the intellect and ego, to uproot us from who we are.
The soul wants
to keep us connected to the community in which we find life, for it understands
that relationships are necessary if we are to thrive.
The soul wants
to tell us the truth about ourselves, our world, and the relation between the
two, whether that truth is easy or hard to hear.
The soul wants
to give us life and wants us to pass that gift along, to become life-givers in
a world that deals too much death (pp. 33-34).
In other words, being open to one’s true
self requires a bold approach to reflect on one of life’s ultimate questions,
“Who am I?” What Palmer suggests is that our true selves keep us from pursuing
trivial aspects of our being and prods us deeper towards exploration rather
than escape, which constitutes our very being—our spiritual DNA. True self, then, becomes a life-giving
attribute to us and others (p. 39).
Such an exploration is risky though.
For example, the missed paths of our truer selves or nature, when pressed, can
also cause turmoil in an already chaotic life for most. If and when a person journeys
towards the soul’s truth of the matter, she may find that the life she carved
and labored for herself (marriage, children, career, and social status) must
change if only to adapt to her true self. That might not be as dire an issue,
but for those of us who have piled on all of the accoutrements of a false self;
suddenly making a shift within mind and heart (psyche) can cause external
disturbances as well as interior ones.
Palmer does offer some consolation,
or, at least, a fresh perspective with which to think about how the external
and interior lives can find some common ground. As mentioned earlier, he
utilizes a mathematical illustration (a möbius strip) to demonstrate how the
interior life is connected to the exterior and vice versa. In doing so, he
makes the point that a healthy spiritual life cannot be formed, singularly, on
the merits of one or the other—a fragmented soul—but instead, within the sacred
connections that constitute the whole—a spirituality marked more by an ebb and
flow rather than a fenced pietism or exclusivist morality. His consolation is
based on the fact that a healthy spirituality is a holistic endeavor.
At the center of Palmer’s arguments is a
constant that not only runs throughout this work but also substantiates much of
his earlier work. And that is the search for truth, wherever it may be found.
Truth-seeking is the impetus with which the journey of the true self begins. In
order to do the work of truth-seeking, Palmer makes the distinction; first and
foremost, that one must be willing to hold the “tension of paradox.” Though he
discusses this tension within the field of teaching, it is apparent that is has
much to do with his exploration towards the true self:
Holding the
tension of paradox so that our students can learn at deeper levels is among the
most difficult demands of good teaching. How are we supposed to do that?
Imagine yourself in a classroom. You ask a well-framed question, and then you
wait and wait as the great silence descends. You know you should wait some
more, not jump, but your hear pounds, then sinks, and finally feels helpless
and out of control. So you answer your own question with an emotional mix of
anxiety, anger, and authoritarianism that only makes things worse. Then you
watch as the opening to learning offered by the silence vanishes—and teaching
becomes more and more like running headlong into walls….That scenario—which
could apply to holding any of the paradoxes, not just silence and
speech—suggests a simple truth: the place where paradoxes are held together is
in the teacher’s heart, and our inability to hold them is less a failure of
technique than a gap in our inner lives. If we want to teach and learn in the
power of paradox, we must reeducate our hearts.[1]
It is in the heart, as Palmer puts it, which eventually becomes the armature for
supporting the soul. This reeducation of the heart becomes the very basis of
what he unequivocally and intentionally describes as “circles of trust.”
CIRCLES OF TRUST
Circles of trust for Palmer are more
than mere small groups, though they may have similar dynamics within them. He
distinguishes a circle of trust in that it must give room for the soul. In
comparison, small groups or small group meetings tend to organize themselves by
agendas; whereas, the only agenda, so to speak, for circles of trust are to
wait and listen:
In a circle of
trust, we can dwell in the truth by dwelling in the conversation. In such a
circle, our differences are not ignored, but neither are they confronted in
combat. Instead, they are laid out clearly and respectfully alongside each
other. In such a circle, we speak and hear diverse truths in ways that keep us
from ignoring each other and from
getting into verbal shootouts—ways that allow us to grow together toward a
larger, emergent truth that reveals how much we hold in common (p. 127).
What he suggests is that we allow
the soul of each participant to slowly leave its shell in order for truth to
come forth. Tacitly, through his advocacy of the soul within the circle of
trust, he is proposing a theology of
immanence—the teacher or divine spark dwells within and emerges if given genuine
opportunity. And it is the soul that reigns supreme within this model. Although
Palmer makes no qualms about his Christian tradition, it, too, takes a back seat
to the emergence of the soul in search of truth within the context of a
multi-faith and multi-cultural circle:
When the space
between us is made safe for the soul by truthful speaking and receptive
listening, we are able to speak truth in a particularly powerful form—a form
that goes deeper that our opinions, ideas, and beliefs. I mean the truth that
emerges as we tell the stories of our lives….Storytelling has always been at
the heart of being human because it serves some of our most basic needs: passing
along our traditions, confessing failings, healing wounds, engendering hope,
strengthening our sense of community. But in a culture of invasion and evasion,
this time-honored practice cannot be taken for granted. It must be supported in
special settings and protected with strong ground rules (p. 123).
It is within the act of storytelling
that provides a common ground element in which diversity can thrive. Although
sharing stories within the circle of trust provides openness to participant’s
vulnerabilities, its downside or hindrance is the mere fact that most of us
want to “fix” whatever deficit we see in others. Thus, ground rules are a
necessity. And the major rule Palmer preaches is to ask or comment with others
through “honest, open questions.” He subscribes to this because it keeps the
“fix it” mentality in check. But, of course, if asking honest, open questions
is a difficult best practice to perform (Palmer makes a notation that training
is advised), how are circles of trust able to flourish and thrive in the most
common of settings; i.e., churches, synagogues, and other community-based
locales? And this is the work that is ahead for all of us.
CONCLUDING COMMENTS
Palmer’s contributions for leading
and searching for truth with others has practical applications in this class as
well in my ministry context. Although I realize there are limitations with the
number of congregants that may be open to participate within a circle of trust,
training a number of people on leadership teams within the local church has
potential for transformative ministry—a ministry focused on the leading of
God’s Spirit rather than the agendas of a few, strong-willed individuals. If
they (the congregation) can practice asking and discerning through honest, open
questioning and dialogue, the truth of a congregation’s spiritual DNA could
eventually emerge. And, of course, this dovetails into the goals and aims of
this class—teaching and helping others to discern individually and
collectively. Palmer is a helpful resource in that he reminds us to be truthful
with ourselves before we begin the process of helping others. The underlining
premise for him is that unless we believe in the truth within us; we will never
believe in the truth within others.
What seems to be most difficult in
ministry is to be honest with my feelings as a minister and as a layperson. My
life tends to focus more on inner and outer circles rather than a continual
weave of who I am as a child of God. It has been helpful to read Palmer’s
struggles in his own life—not as a comparison but as a reminder that what we
all are striving for is hopefully truth,
in ourselves and in others.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Palmer,
Parker J. The Courage to Teach: Exploring
the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s Life.
San
Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1998.
[1] Parker J. Palmer, The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner
Landscape of a Teacher’s Life (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1998), 83.
