The Truth We Know--But Can't Face

An internationally-beloved theologian gets my attention

Celtic knots symbolize the interconnectedness of all life, loops without beginning and without end, all woven together in one whole. This Dara Knot, thought to evoke the intricate and powerful root system of an oak tree, reflects the vision of John Philip Newell.

I have long admired John Philip Newell, the foremost authority on Celtic spirituality. I spent two sabbatical weeks at the Iona Abbey in the Western Isles of Scotland when Newell was the Warden of the Abbey. It was truly a “thin place.” I know of course that Celtic spirituality sits lightly to church structures and doctrines and hierarchies—which is why millions like me are attracted to it. But I have to say, I was slightly stunned when, opening Newell’s latest book, I read in the first few pages that he had renounced his ordination. He did it quietly, with no fanfare, but he did it.

“I could no longer personally reconcile the formal teachings of the church, shaped by the creeds of fourth-century Imperial Christianity, with the spiritual vision of Earth’s sacredness and the sacredness of every human being that I am committed to following in my life and teaching.” (The Great Search, p.4)

I had to put the book down. Here was someone who could not wish away the claims of superiority and exclusivism that relegated some people to lower status or even to hell. Here was someone who could not unsee our Earth’s clear path to destruction, and the way the church has cooperated, sometimes happily, in that desecration. After all, wasn’t the planet given for our plundering?

Newell’s argument is that when you construct a theology where some are blessed and some are . . . not really, there is no path to wholeness and human solidarity. Not everyone can be regarded as sacred. And when your theology treats God’s creation as an It and not as a Thou, nothing in our world is sacred. We can’t help but de-secrate.

What struck me was John Philip Newell’s clear-eyed realism. He was seeing what the rest of have agreed to stop seeing. Nothing is more critical than the universal blessedness of every human being, and the flourishing of God’s whole creation, “this fragile earth, our island home.” There are other problems, other important issues, yes—but this is the crux of it all. Maybe the faithless world cannot get there yet, but people who believe in a Creator must lead the way, returning once again to the Native American view that when making any decision one should think of its effects down to the seventh generation.

Contemplating Newell’s radical choice, I thought immediately of the last election, and how I kept quiet when neither of the two parties said anything about the collapsing of creation. At the time I thought, Well, we have to make pragmatic choices. People in general don’t want to hear about it. It’s too ‘negative.’ So we can’t exactly talk about it. If we win, we’ll get to that later. Now I felt ashamed.

I don’t know yet what I need to do. In a sense, I’m still sitting there stunned. I haven’t given up on the church, but it seems clearer and clearer to me that a faith that can lead us into a place where every man, woman and child is sacred, and where the very ground beneath our feet is holy, holy, holy—that faith will have a very different theology. Thank you, John Philip Newell, for having the courage to tell us the truth we already know.