In Christian thought and practice, one encounters threads of deep contemplation and others of strict adherence. There's a spectrum, on one end of which, it seems, Evangelical theology resides. This branch of Christianity, by nature of its vast outreach, is often tethered to simplified and palatable messages. To understand its widespread appeal, one might look to Tim Urban's concept of the "low mind," a cognitive mode that prioritizes loyalty to sacred beliefs, oversimplifies complexities, and recoils from skepticism.
Tim Urban, in his compelling book "What’s Our Problem?", delves into the intricacies of human cognition by introducing the duality of the high mind and the low mind. The high mind, as he describes, is the realm of the truth-seeker. It approaches problems scientifically, operates without bias, is open to being wrong, and uses a methodical comparison of hypotheses and data. In contrast, the low mind prefers the comforting echo of its own beliefs. It is marked by hypocrisy, overconfidence, and an aversion to skepticism. This mind oversimplifies, is prone to fallacies, and places a higher value on loyalty and conformity than on the pursuit of truth. It views dissenters as adversaries and the world in terms of 'us versus them'. With these two cognitive modes in play, one has to wonder: In the realm of faith and spirituality, which mind predominantly guides us?
For clarity, here are the distinctions:
High Mind:
Pursuit of Truth: Seeks genuine understanding and knowledge.
Scientific Thinking: Operates like an unbiased scientist in a laboratory setting.
Acknowledgment of Fallibility: Recognizes the possibility of being incorrect.
Openness: Avoids bias, remains open to multiple perspectives, and is willing to revise conclusions.
Rational Approach: Systematically evaluates hypotheses against data.
Collaboration: High minds can merge to form what Urban refers to as "genies".
Thrive in Liberal Games: They prosper in environments that encourage freedom of expression and ideas.
Low Mind:
Pursuit of Loyalty: Prioritizes conforming to pre-existing beliefs and values.
Cognitive Biases: Exhibits tendencies like confirmation bias, oversimplification, and overconfidence.
Echo Chambers: Prefers environments that affirm rather than challenge its beliefs.
Hostility to Dissent: Views disagreement as an attack, dividing the world into allies ("us") and adversaries ("them").
Ideological Rigidity: Regards ideas as sacred and immutable.
Collaboration: Low minds can amalgamate to form what Urban describes as "golems".
Thrive in Power Games: Dominant in settings marked by power struggles and manipulations.
The Evangelical tradition, by and large, engages its believers using the tools of the low mind. It offers comforting certitudes, solidifies the world into black and white, right and wrong, saved and unsaved. For those lost in the tumultuous sea of existential queries, this provides a sturdy anchor. Yet, in providing these clear-cut answers, does it inadvertently stifle the deeper, more nuanced spiritual explorations?
By adhering to the literalist interpretations of the Scripture, Evangelical theology often shies away from the profound well of mysticism present within Christian traditions. It's a space, after all, where ideas aren't just absorbed, but wrestled with. Mysticism invites believers to wade beyond the shallows, to navigate the depths of spiritual experience and understanding. This can be a daunting journey, filled with uncertainties and complexities. Yet, this is precisely where the high mind thrives. It welcomes doubt, it embraces the unknown, and it recognizes that in the vast expanse of divine wisdom, human understanding is but a drop.
Worse, Evangelicalism preaches that the Christian mystics are heretics and not even really Christian. This viewpoint not only dismisses centuries of rich spiritual introspection but also paints a monolithic picture of what it means to be a believer. Mystics, through history, have contributed immeasurably to Christian thought, often venturing where most dared not tread. By labeling them as outsiders or worse, heretics, Evangelicalism further narrows its scope, sidelining voices that could offer fresh perspectives or deeper understandings. The danger in this is clear: a faith community that prunes away its diversity is one that risks stagnation. And in doing so, it pushes many seekers away, those who might resonate more with the nuanced views of mysticism than the strict dichotomies often presented by mainstream Evangelical thought.
When Evangelicalism remains content in the shallows, it inadvertently crafts a cognitive dissonance. The stark dichotomies it often presents — of sin and salvation, of heaven and hell — can come in stark contrast with the myriad shades of human experience. People, in their daily lives, encounter moments of grace and lapses, acts of kindness from unexpected quarters, and betrayals from the closest ones. Life, in all its richness, defies the simple binaries. When faced with such incongruities, believers might find themselves trapped in a spiritual quagmire, yearning for deeper insights yet confined by the doctrines they've been handed.
This isn't to say that Evangelicalism lacks depth or sincerity. On the contrary, its widespread appeal is testament to its genuine connection with millions. However, its reliance on the low mind's tools might be its double-edged sword. By making faith easily digestible, it attracts vast numbers. But in doing so, does it also prevent a sizable chunk from venturing into the profound terrains of spirituality? Is this wide net, inadvertently, also a tight leash, keeping believers from wandering too far, questioning too much, or diving too deep?
The Christian Mystics, in their wisdom, recognized that the journey to the divine wasn't a straight road but a labyrinthine path. They realized that each turn, each moment of doubt, each challenge to one's beliefs was, in fact, a step closer to understanding God's vastness. For them, God wasn't just a being to be worshipped but a profound mystery to be experienced.
If Evangelical theology's intention is to bring people closer to God, then perhaps it's time it took a page out of the mystic's book. It's time it allowed its believers the freedom to question, to doubt, to wander, and to wonder. After all, isn't the journey as important as the destination?
The path to spiritual maturity might not be about adhering to a set doctrine, but about recognizing the divine's vastness, understanding that our grasp of it will always remain limited, and yet striving, always striving, to experience it in all its depth. As believers, the invitation then isn't just to follow but to explore, to not just accept but to seek, and in doing so, find a connection with the divine that's genuine, profound, and deeply personal. Dare I say, heathenistic?