New Age Spirituality Is the Old Age, but Dumber
What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; and there is nothing new under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 1:9
A good friend of mine is a professional bodybuilder. It’s no big deal. Don’t make it a thing.
Anyway, he keeps me abreast of The News with links, some of them obscure, many of them humorous. If it were not for him, I’m not sure Platenism would ever touch on current events, so the dear reader can thank him for that. He also keeps me in the loop with terribly important fitness industry-related matters, such as this gem:
I don’t know anything about this woman, but I’ve never let ignorance slow me down from writing before, and I’m not going to start now.
At first blush, her post is yet another humdrum message of sheer blah. It reeks of the all-too-common mantra, I’m spiritual but not religious. This often comes with “I’m not like other girls”, propped up by copious use of popular social media apps, trendy and expensive clothing made in Asia, quotes from The Office and other Netflix hits, a current but absolute obsession with some purchasable product, and the in-vogue catchphrases of Internet English usage.
Yet if we zoom in and back out on this little ditty, we can see that she is undeniably right. Moreover, we can see that the Spiritual but Not Religious™ person is far more attuned to the perennial questions of existence than, say, the New Atheist, which could be the other side of the coin.
The Spiritual but Not Religious™ intuits that the natural world could not cause itself, as we all receive our being from elsewhere. The New Atheist says the world just is, we might be able to describe it, but asking why is a stupid waste of time (Richard Dawkins actually said this). The Spiritual but Not Religious™ recognizes that the mind is more than mere firings of synapses; there is something indescribably immaterial about the mind. The New Atheist thinks the mind is a squishy computer, ultimately reducible to the mathematical-physical language of particles moving in space.
The Spiritual but Not Religious™ folk are on to something, just as the woman above is on to something. We may need to alter her message – sifting through the language, finding the nugget she is trying to convey, and even censoring where necessary – but there is much in her song to salvage. Let me offer a translation:
You must be careful with the spirits you let into your life. Every place you go, every friend you choose, every conversation you have — they become a part of you. So, choose wisely. You owe it to God to guard your soul from vice. So be intentional, be selective, and don’t mess around with anything that doesn’t build virtue. Your soul is precious, and you must protect it at all costs.
Huh, well that could be taken right out of Seneca, Augustine, or Plato, could it not?
What you let into your mind patterns your ensuing thoughts. This is so obvious it seems silly to defend it—but I love to argue.
We have all had the experience of dwelling on, say, a fumbled phrase in an interview, speech, or any old conversation. We think to ourselves “Perhaps I should have said this”, “Ah if I only said that”, “well, everything would have gone much better if I said...” and so on. Then, we start to think, “Man, that was so stupid, I can’t believe I said that” which inevitably leads to, “Those people think I’m a moron. They are probably huddled right now, recounting my blunder in hysterics, and calling me all sorts of names, like pee-pee poo-poo head, or small-brain dumb-dumb.”
We have all said the above, especially the last sentence. The point is that this all clearly stems from an initial thought.
Now, I can move this to a real-life example with a movie. How about The Wolf of Wall Street?
I am about a third into the film’s runtime (roughly nine hours), and I see the lavish lifestyle that comes from a bit of dishonest salesmanship. Being that I work with others, and have a manager who needs to think good things about my work, salesmanship is at least somewhat important to my job, right? Aren’t we sort of all in sales?
If only I would just push the envelope a bit; perhaps exaggerate what I have done, maybe take some credit for work I did not do, embellish my skills to a different department or employer—I could probably eke out a 10-15k raise in the next 3-6 months; maybe more, maybe sooner. Maybe I should just go back into sales, but something big this time: preposterously priced RVs, multi-million-dollar printers, commercial and luxury real estate (my imagination is running wild now, I’m really thinking outside of the box). There are lots of avenues. I need only reach out and take what’s mine.
What I am selling is ultimately trivial; that I am selling is paramount. All that matters is that the money is in my hands, not theirs. As Jordan Belfort says, “The way I looked at it, their money was better off in my pocket. I knew how to spend it better.”
And here we have arrived at the sort of thinking pattern that allows a salesman, manager, executive, lawyer, etc., to do what he wants, when he wants, with whomever he wants.
Entertaining the ethic of this film ends in thinking I should be an evil salesman willing to lie, cheat, and steal to put myself above others. This would provide a profound increase in money, sex, and power. And those with lots of money, sex, and power are better than the rest. In the eyes of the world — in the eyes of mortal man— those with all the money, sex, and power are saved. They are the ones who have made it in the kingdom of darkness.
Of course, the case could be made that The Wolf of Wall Street is showing that this life of money, sex, and power ends in ruination. DiCaprio and Scorsese both said in an interview with Charlie Rose that the book and film tell a cautionary tale. Yet Scorsese glorifies money, sex, and power, hardly shows anything of the victims, and depicts the fallout of Belfort’s debauchery as a chance to work on his tennis game in prison, only to come out as a famous public speaker. Belfort’s ultimate punishment was a $500k book advance from Random House, a bidding war for the rights to the movie, and worldwide fame.
So what cautionary tale did Scorsese tell?
It is no surprise that the popular reception of the film is an epic montage of the vices and sins involved at the greatest height of money, sex, and power in the age of Wall Street. The origin of this is nothing new. Money, sex, and power are what the City of Man has valued for all time. The Christian inversion of these is property, family, and politics. Scorsese showed nothing of the sort. This is sad because Scorsese claims to be Catholic.
Money is merely potential and must be directed toward a good, such as a house, books, or cattle.
Sex is how we procreate, this is its chief end or purpose, which rules out sex for its own sake and certainly eliminates homosexual activity as good action. But sex is also a unitive act whereby the man and woman involved grow more deeply bonded in sharing the most intimate connection possible.
Power, the ability to affect change, must be directed toward the uplifting of the common good into which we are all born. Every person comes into a social amalgam, and using one’s power for good in service of the common good is how we do politics well. (Can you tell I just returned from the New Polity conference?)
Money, sex, and power are the life of vice. Property, family, and politics are the life of virtue. Despite all the glitz and glamor of vice, the high always wears off. Then, the shame and guilt come. Only one of these two ways of life leads to happiness.
Eudaimonia in the Greeks, beatitudo in the Latins, and happiness in English are all in agreement: vice leads to ruin and despair, and virtue is the root of human flourishing. It seems almost paradoxical.
The Spiritual but Not Religious™ subject of this article understands this, albeit with a bit of crude cringe. With a little help, these confused-but-concerned folks can hit the ground running. There is far more to life than cash, cheap flings, and the fleeting control of institutions. These all come and go. In the end, there will be questions of true wealth, and true happiness: a virtuous life lived in the pursuit of property, family, and politics.