pleasure and transcendance

Nothing provides better relief from the bitter winter winds than curling up under a warm quilt with a coffee to sip and a paperback in hand. As those of you who know me (or who have read this blog before) know, reading is one of those things which I cherish most and which reminds me of who I am. I have piles of unread titles scattered around my bedroom calling for me to grant them favour, a never-ending written list of books I one day hope to get my hands on, and a tendency to read at least a few different genres at any given moment. 

Where life is limited by barriers of place and time, books aren't. They provide me with the bewitching ability to go anywhere, be anyone and do anything right from where I am. The promise of a new adventure or learning curve or encounter with the celestial is right at my fingertips. 

In the same vein, one of the reasons I so value reading as a hobby and habit is that it allows me to learn- and to broaden my view on myself, humanity, the world and faith.

The other day, I fell upon the book Eat, Pray, Love at the bottom of one of my stacks (I know, I know- I'm late to the game). I had erewhile acquired it from a friend - a result of her annual springtime purge- and had yet to get around to reading it. 

For those of you who have not heard of the biography and movie, it is the account of a woman (author Elizabeth Gilbert) who feels unfulfilled by her affluent life in New York City and, following a strenuous divorce, goes on a one-year quest to "find herself and God" across Italy, India and Bali (Indonesia). She focuses on eating and enjoying life in Italy ('eat'), cultivating her spirituality in India ('pray') and seeking the balance of pleasure and spirituality in Bali, where she ends up falling for her future husband ('love'). 

Full disclosure: I had a bit of a prejudice against the book, as I worried of its depiction as a self-help volume for distraught women experiencing a mid-life crisis (I'm twenty-two, for crying out loud...I can't have hit that point yet!), and whether its reflexive narrative tended toward New Age spirituality (which, it does). 

Alas, my curiosity got the best of me and I committed to reading it, for better or for worse. I must confess that I have found myself hiding its cover when reading it in public, by fear of a passerby thinking (1) I'm a dreadful cliché (2) I am having a midlife crisis (3) I have turned to an amalgam of Asian religions to address point (2). 

I oppose Gilbert's theological considerations and believe the true source of freedom, peace, beauty and abundance is in Jesus Christ alone (and sometimes have to fight the urge to scream these disagreements at the book which, I recognize, would prove highly unhelpful). I sincerely believe He is the necessary answer to humanity's quest and longing. 

But, all that said, I truly resonate with Gilbert's thoughtful description of the dual desire for pleasure and divine transcendence. She argues that she wants both. In the end, she argues that espousing a devoted spirituality whilst having an unapologetic lust for life is possible. To Gilbert, both frameworks are not mutually exclusive.

I have been largely unsuccessful in naming this inner struggle of mine, but Gilbert offered powerful insight.

Coming from a Western Christian background, I see that a harrowing sense of guilt and pragmatism have inadvertently become a part of my intellectual and spiritual heritage. I am a gregarious person by nature, with a bottomless lust for life. But, with time, I learned I had to quench this proclivity- because this seemed like the "right" thing to do. That good ole' Puritan guilt has often led me to think that seeking 'enjoyment' is overly indulgent and, put simply, selfish.

From a North American productivist standpoint, an afternoon of rest and enjoyment of a lavish meal is a waste of time and resources. From the standpoint of my religious subculture (which, truthfully, has been informed by Puritanical ideals), investing in a trip to Europe or spending money on a chai latte and cardamom scone can attest to bad stewardship or that I find my joy and fulfilment in things other than God. Moreover, I may have internalized Gnostic narratives about the material world being ‘bad’ and the importance of focusing on the spiritual realm- I am of course exaggerating, but the point remains. And, finally, from a justice standpoint, certain forms of material enjoyment (succulent meals, exotic travels, etc.) testify to privilege and express a lack of concern from the marginalized, who do not have access to the same luxury of product, service and time.

While there may be truth to these paradigms, their assumptions are fundamentally flawed. They conceptualize God as austere and bland, which He isn’t. Jesus Himself was a true bon-vivant, criticized by a legalist power structure that he spent too much time eating, drinking, celebrating. Why do I forget this so often?!

I am realizing, slowly, that the enjoyment of God’s blessings on earth can be a beautiful avenue for spiritual transcendence. This thought invites me to list the moments I have caught glimpses of the spiritual realm when fully, unapologetically relishing in this life. To name a few: blue ocean views on a hike reminding me of the artist-like nature of God the Creator, a delectable meal imaging the prophetic marriage feast of the Lamb, a day of complete rest (the glory of doing nothing) pointing me towards God’s peace and rest, or the discovery of vibrant new cultures, each retelling the truths of God’s versatile, multi-faceted beauty in their own way. Maybe, just maybe, the very things which our senses feast on are markers of the eternal glory to come. In this sense, how could we not take pleasure in the tangible and dynamic experiences that enrich our lives so momentously? How could we deem them ‘self-indulgent and selfish’?

Of course, a responsibility comes with this, which I don’t take lightly. I stand by the commitment to live in a sustainable way that promotes global justice, to recognize all that is mine is God’s, to honour Him foremost in the way I live, rather than only seek to content myself.

Yet the truth remains: pleasure, when enjoyed wisely and responsibly, can be a reminder of God’s goodness and the way He delights in blessing His children. This has been such a freeing, empowering and thrilling thing to learn and embody.

While I am at odds with much of Gilbert’s beliefs, I am grateful to her for this reminder. I wish Christians did a better job of talking about enjoyment and pleasure, and learned the rhythms of celebrating life and living it well. Soon, I trust, we would see God replace these feelings of Puritanical guilt with deep-rooted gratefulness for His poetry on earth, which takes the form of faraway sunsets, the ideal marriage of different tastes, the glorious sound of a cello singing, a pair of dancers engaged in effortless glides…things which remind us, again and again, that this broken world is soaked with goodness and magnificence in the purest of forms. May I remember always that the spiritual and the mundane are not disjointed realms but, like two watercolour strokes, mesh harmoniously on a canvas, filled with promise and hope.