Hierdie boeiende stuk in vandag se NYT oor mense wat God met hulle hardop hoor praat, is boeiend.
Dit is geskryf deur 'n antropoloog aan 'n bekende universiteit. Hy is duidelik bewus van hoe nie-gelowige mense op sy rubriek gaan reageer. Hy skryf dus versigtig.
Hoor mense regtig God se stem met hulle praat? Of is dit 'n teken dat hulle 'n geestessiekte het?
Hieroor dink die gerekende wetenskaplike na - en dit in een van die wêreld se voorste, hoofsaaklik sekulêre koerante.
'n Paar dinge is vir my belangrik uit wat hy skryf: die verskynsel dat mense God hoor praat, is baie skaars. Dit gebeur dalk een of twee keer in mense se lewens. Dit is boonop kort ervarings, wat 'n oomblik of wat duur.
By die lees hiervan, wis ek dat dit kenmerkend van 'n mistieke aanraking is. Pascal, bekende filosoof, het dit ervaar, so intensief, een keer en het niemand daarvan vertel nie. In sy geval het dit 'n uur of twee geduur en het hy nie God se stem gehoor nie. Dit was eerder 'n intense belewing van God se aanraking en teenwoordigheid. Maar dit was vir hom so spesiaal dat hy dit neergeskryf het en die beskrywing in sy jas se soom vasgewerk het.
Hy wou dit naby aan hom hou. En hy het niks daaroor voor ander mense afgewys nie.
Daar is wel gevalle in die geskiedenis van spiritualiteit dat mense meer van sulke mistieke ervarings gehad het. Hulle is egter uitsonderings.
Om God se stem te hoor, soos dit in die artikel vertel word, staan in die tradisie van hierdie uitsonderlike en ongewone mistieke ervarings.
Tweedens is dit altyd 'n besondere, vreugdevolle ervaring. 'n Mens sou dit seker ekstaties kon noem. Mense wat God se stem hoor, ervaar 'n spesiale geborgenheid en liefde.
Derdens, vertel die artikel, hang die ervaring saam met gebed. In Spiritualiteit sou 'n mens Waaijman se frase, "biddende verlange", kon oorneem. Die mense wat God se stem hoor, is mense wat in gedurige openheid vir en in gedurige gesprek met God leef. Dit is 'n lang proses waarin mense in 'n verhouding met God staan wat deur wedersydse liefde steeds weer dieper, intenser en dus selfs "hoorbaarder" word!
Die boeiendste van die artikel is hoe gebed 'n mens se lewe ryker, voller en stimulerender kan maak. Deur gebed word 'n mens veel meer bewus van jou innerlike lewe. Jy leef saam met jou gedagtes, beleef hulle, raak meer betrokke by wat jy dink en hoe jy dink. Dit maak van jou 'n mens wat die lewe in al sy volheid van naby, vanuit die diepste innerlike van jou bestaan meemaak.
Hiermee hang saam dat gebed 'n mens se waarneming opskerp. Jy word meer oplettend. Jy ervaar, volgens hierdie berig, die reuke en klanke om jou meer intens.
Met ander woorde: deur te bid, loop jou gedagtes in 'n nuwe rigting en word jou waarneming intenser.
Jy raak meer en meer bewus van wat werklik saak maak, wat in jou lewe vrede bring, wat in jou help om God se skepping voluit te beleef en te laat groei en dit maak jou sensitief vir alles wat ander seermaak en benadeel.
Dit is asof jy van 'n ent af staan en kyk na jouself en staan en luister na hoe jy dink - wat van jou 'n nadenkender persoon maak.
As 'n mens begin besef hoe ryk gebed jou maak, is die groot, belangrike vraag: hoe bid 'n mens? En daarmee kom gebed, die biddende verlange, tot sy reg as 'n sleutel-aspek van spiritualiteit: altyd weer is gebed die mens se smeking om by en naby God te kan wees. Dit het nie veel te doen met die bakhand-mentaliteit van vele bidders wat bloot net dinge van God vra nie. Dit het eerder veel meer te doen om in die teenwoordigheid van volmaakte liefde te leef.
Is That God Talking?
I was doing ethnographic field work in a quietly charismatic evangelical
church in Chicago. This was the kind of church in which people sought
an intimate, conversational relationship with God. It was not at all
uncommon for people to talk about hearing God.
This woman, however, said that she had been to a job interview and that
later, while tidying up at home, she had heard God say, “That’s not the
one” — and that she had looked around to see where the voice had come
from. She told me that she heard from God like that many times. The
first time as an adult was when she was driving alone in an unfamiliar
part of the city — and God spoke up audibly out of the back seat and
told her that he would always be with her.
After that, I started to ask people in the church more systematically
about whether they had ever heard God speak audibly. About a third said
yes. They reported odd auditory events in which God said “Sit and
listen” or “Read James” or “I will always love you.”
This woman’s account is a good example: “The Lord spoke to me clearly in April, like May or April. To start a school.”
You heard this audibly, I asked? “Yeah.”
Were you alone? “Yeah, I was just praying. I wasn’t praying anything,
really, just thinking about God, and I heard a voice say, ‘Start a
school,’ I immediately got up and it was like, ‘O.K., Lord, where?’ ”
What do we make of this? I don’t think that anthropologists can
pronounce on whether God exists or not, but I am averse to the idea that
God is the full explanation here. For one thing, many of these voices
are mundane. A woman told me that she heard God tell her to get off the
bus when she was immersed in a book and about to miss her stop.
Moreover, odd auditory experiences are quite common. A questionnaire
posed to 375 college students found that 71 percent reported vocal
hallucinations of some kind, according to a study
published in 1984 (a finding consistent with my own research). A 2000
study found that 38.7 percent of the population reported visual,
auditory or other hallucinations, including out-of-body experiences.
Schizophrenia, or the radical break with reality we identify as serious
mental illness, is also not an explanation. The people who reported
these events simply weren’t ill in that way, and schizophrenia is not
common (the prevalence
among American adults is 1.1 percent in any year). Moreover, the
patterns of their voice-hearing are quite unlike the patterns we
associate with schizophrenia. The voices heard by people with
schizophrenia are often harsh and commanding. They go on and on —
sentences, paragraphs, sometimes crowds of people screaming and yelling
insults at the poor voice-hearing person throughout the day.
The unusual auditory experiences reported by congregants just weren’t
like that. They were rare. Most people said they’d had one or two in
their lifetime. They were brief — just a few words. They were pleasant.
And they did not have that sense of command. The woman who said God
instructed her to start a school — well, she hasn’t done it.
I eventually discovered that these experiences were associated with
intense prayer practice. They felt spontaneous, but people who liked to
get absorbed in their imaginations were more likely to experience them.
Those were the people who were more likely to love to pray, and the
“prayer warriors” who prayed for long periods were likely to report even
more of them.
The prayer warriors said that as they became immersed in prayer, their
senses became more acute. Smells seemed richer, colors more vibrant.
Their inner sensory worlds grew more vivid and more detailed, and their
thoughts and images sometimes seemed as if they were external to the
mind. Later, I was able to demonstrate experimentally that prayer
practice did lead to more vivid inner images and more hallucination-like
events.
There’s plenty here to alarm secular liberals. A subject in the prayer
experiment recalled that she was watching TV when “God told me, ‘Vote
for Bush.’ I said — I was having this argument with God. I said out
loud, I said, ‘But I don’t like him.’ You know. And God said, ‘I didn’t
ask you to like him.’ ” She thought she had heard this exchange with her
ears. She voted, in 1988, for George Bush.
The more interesting lesson is what it tells us about the mind and
prayer. If hearing a voice is associated with focused attention to the
inner senses — hearing with the mind’s ear, seeing with the mind’s eye —
it suggests that prayer (which today, the National Day of Prayer,
celebrates) is a pretty powerful instrument. We often imagine prayer as
a practice that affects the content of what we think about — our moral
aspirations, or our contrition. It’s probably more accurate to
understand prayer as a skill that changes how we use our minds.