Thursday, September 22, 2011

The Spiral Staircase: My Climb out of Darkness by Karen Armstrong


Karen Armstrong became a nun in 1962, when she was 17, and left the convent seven years later. She'd already written a memoir--since revised--about that experience, called Through the Narrow Gate. I read the unrevised (I think) edition years and years ago, so it was very interesting to read her reflections now on the nunnery and what happened when she left.

Her life wasn't easy afterward, particularly when it came to her epilepsy, which unbelievably enough went undiagnosed for years. She was told she was repressed, hysterical, oversensitive--and this, with a disease that's been described and known since antiquity. All those years of fearing she was going crazy, would wind up in a locked ward, for an illness she now manages well with medication! (Her previous doctors were just lucky that Britain isn't as malpractice-suit-happy as America.)

The spiral staircase image is from Eliot's poem "Ash-Wednesday," the first long poem he wrote after converting to Anglicism. The staircase, where it seems one is always returning to the same place and making no progress, but actually slowly ascending, signifies for Armstrong the pattern of her spiritual and emotional life.

Though she couldn't pray after leaving the convent, and couldn't feel any closeness or belief in God, religion was always her subject. After her failed attempt (in highly unfair circumstances) to get an Oxford doctorate--her topic was Tennyson--she wrote books and presented TV programs on subjects like Jerusalem, St. Paul, the Crusades, mystic poets, and one book titled The History of God: The 4000-Year Quest of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

But does she believe in God now, or what? Her answer is that these words are too small and limited for anything but a small and limited concept of God. She rejects the litmus test of "belief" and says of faith, paraphrasing theologian Cantwell Smith:
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Faith was really the cultivation of a conviction that life had some ultimate meaning and value, despite the tragic evidence to the contrary--an attitude also evoked by great art.

That doesn't mean you can believe anything you like. There is a test:
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The one and only test of a valid religious idea, doctrinal statement, spiritual experience, or devotional practice was that it must lead directly to practical compassion.


What largely led Armstrong to this point of view was writing The History of God. First, she found, she needed to write about Muhammed and Islam first, to understand it and to present a counternarrative to the hatred swirling around after Ayatollah Khomeini and the Salman Rushdie fatwa. No accessible life of the Prophet that Westerners could understand existed. So Armstrong wrote it.

To do so, she had to edit out her ego, she says, a practice that became, without her intent, spiritual, as she worked "to penetrate another culture and develop a wholly different way of looking at the world. It required a constant concentration of mind and heart that was in fact a type of meditation." And in writing her History of God, she finds this concentration to be central to all religions at their best and when unsullied by fear or politics.

The spiral staircase does seem an apt metaphor for Armstrong's life. As much as she longed to break free from the nunnery, everything about her life seems nun-like except for the obedience to authority.
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I tried to break away from the convent but I still live alone, spend my days in silence, and am almost wholly occupied in writing, thinking, and speaking about God and spirituality.

Indeed, a problem in the book is that Armstrong can seem bloodless even when she's suffering and lonely, as if she's someone without any strong carnal desires. (She dismisses her meager love life in a few paragraphs, and herself as a non-starter.) But then, she seldom gives herself sufficient credit for her powerful achievements.

Armstrong writes with great clarity about spiritual and human loneliness. Her account of a mind opening, an intellect finding its subject, and a spirit breaking free from oppression, is moving and thoughtful. Her understanding of faith and hope is blessedly free from pink-cloud sentiment. I'm really glad I read this.