There is Always the Further Question 

This summer, I took vows and entered the novitiate of the Anglican Dominican order.  Naturally, people have been curious.  What does this mean for my life and ministry? How is this helpful to the church? Why now?   

Early in my doctoral studies, my programme director recommended that I read Bernard Lonergan’s Insight: A Study of Human Understanding. Lonergan was a Canadian Jesuit priest. He was a philosopher-theologian and one of the great intellectuals of the twentieth century.  He was first and foremost a man of prayer and contemplation. Spanning seven hundred seventy pages, Insight is an arduous task for the reader.  But as an act of obedience to my director, I persevered, and I asked myself, “What’s the insight?”  

At page five-hundred-seventy, the insight manifested as if backlit by radiant light and the songs of angels! In beautiful simplicity, Lonergan states why philosophers, theologians, and mystics are driven to dedicate their lives to the pursuit of Truth.  The insight: “There is always the further question.” 

Truth isn’t something we’re comfortable talking about these days.  Admittedly, the church hasn’t been consistently gracious in the stewardship of truthful things. After all, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. Has the pursuit of Truth been nullified by past failings?  Isn’t it enough that I have my truth and you have your truth? Relativism is easier to deal with than Truth.    

I’m old-fashioned enough to believe that Truth is still a worthy pursuit. After all, doesn’t the desire to know come from dis-ease?  The quest for Truth begins with a sense of lacking it, and not with feelings of having achieved it.  

Lonergan reminds us that the more we know, the less we understand. This safeguards the contemplative disposition. There is always the further question.  It was during the fourth Lateran Council (1213-15) that the famous doctrine of dissimilitude was formally promulgated.  When it comes to our knowledge of God, human understanding inevitably results in an ever-greater experience of unknowing (dissimilarity). 

But, here’s the problem: from the time we walk into our first classroom as grade-schoolers, we’re indoctrinated into a fallacy. It has been driven into our minds and constantly reinforced that providing correct answers is the goal of learning.  As Western Christians, we’ve been spiritually stultified by the pedagogy of an education system driven mostly by market values.   

The impoverishment of modern education is that it no longer values the cultivation of souls as a foundational part of human thriving. This has affected us spiritually and not only intellectually. I know this because I’ve witnessed it leading bible studies. How often I hear participants pre-emptively apologize for giving wrong answers, for not being intelligent enough to read the bible.   

Generations of Anglicans are afraid to speak up in bible studies because they’re afraid of giving wrong answers, or of being perceived as asking silly questions; Be encouraged! Wrong answers and silly questions are basically all we’ve got in the journey toward Uncreated Light. So, what are we to do?  

Reclaim the contemplative tradition of the church.  Real contemplation. Serious contemplation.  Lean into the mystery, paradox, darkness, the bewilderment. There is freedom in our humanity.  Our limitations and ignorance stretch out beyond ourselves to God. So, risk the possibility of being visited by angels.  

Why take on the Dominican Rule in midlife? I failed grade twelve religion class. I didn’t flourish. My teacher told me that I’d never amount to anything. Harsh stuff. Why did I fail religion class? First, not because I didn’t know the answers, but because I wasn’t satisfied with the answers I was getting in class. Second, I was bored. I needed to move on to different pursuits. I wasn’t interested in regurgitating fodder. Notwithstanding, that wasn’t the only reason I failed grade twelve religion. 

I needed a place where I could lean into the further question. I needed to challenge and to be challenged without fear of punitive retribution. I misjudged the system. But it wasn’t just I who failed religion. My teacher failed, recklessly and irresponsibly, as an educator.  Repeating grade twelve religion was an agonizing and suffocating experience, but it gave me perspective on why habits and dispositions of the soul are so important. You cannot hand on to others what you do not have within yourself to give. 

To contemplate, and to share the fruit of contemplation. That is the motto of the Dominican spiritual tradition, along with Truth (Veritas). In a nutshell, that’s what I find so deliciously compelling about committing to a contemplative rule of life. In a world where it is increasingly difficult to discern between Truth and falsehood, and where it is uncertain as to how we flourish alongside the dehumanizing and strident advances of AI, if the church doesn’t safeguard matters of the soul, no one will. We all need to take this seriously, each and every one of us. There is always the further question.