This weekend my youngest kid had his first piano recital. He was extremely nervous. Before we left the house, he tried several dodges, including, “my stomach hurts” and “I have nothing to wear!” But he overcame his fear and played well. I felt so proud of him and I think he did, too.
Most of the recital performers were so small their feet didn’t touch floor when they sat on the piano bench. There was “Old MacDonald” and “Lion King.” There were five-second songs about frogs on logs and a few scant renditions of “Ode to Joy.” But towards the end of the program, the piano teacher called a middle-aged woman to the stage. She got up, bashfully adjusted the microphone, glancing toward the young man who came with her. Then she said to the audience, “Sorry, I just want to make sure my son is recording. This is a bucket list item for me.”
There was a time when I would’ve found this woman extremely annoying. I would’ve thought she was holding an audience of wriggling toddlers and their exhausted parents hostage for her vanity. “Grow up,” I would’ve privately sneered. Because growth, to me, meant giving up on such silliness. It was both a series of external benchmarks (graduation, “real” job, marriage, house, kids) and also an acceptance that certain experiences (like piano recitals) were not for you. What was adulthood if not realizing that your participation trophy era was over? That’s the cold, hard world, baby. Right?
Maybe not. This month we’ve been looking at the idea of maturity and what Richard Rohr calls “second half of life spirituality.” In Falling Upward, Rohr argues that the first half of spiritual life is about internalizing rules and structure. Then comes a midlife reckoning—questioning the rules, pushing back on the learned framework. If a person can get past this stage, they can transcend the rules-based framework and their false self/ego to develop a more mature understanding of the world and themselves.
I don’t love the word “ego” and its Freudian baggage. (That’s probably just my “penis-envy” talking, though!) But both psychologists and theologians have talked about the divided human mind—recognizing how often we are at odds with ourselves. Whether it’s the Apostle Paul, Freud, Internal Family Systems therapy, or 12-step groups, the terms may vary, but the idea is the same: our minds are more than one thing with one will.
Once we can recognize the parts within ourselves, we can decide which will be in charge. Will it be the “false self,” which cares mostly for what others think? Will it be our baser instincts? (I’m going to steal these Raisenets instead of waiting in this giant concessions line!) Or can we follow our inner “best self,” which some people refer to as the voice of God? And can we be sure that we are labeling the “best self” correctly? There’s huge room for error, particularly if we run around labeling the wrong parts of ourselves as “God.” “God,” in such contexts, justifies every prejudice imaginable, even unto consequences as extreme as holy war and genocide.
Ideally, we sort out our parts as we’re nurtured and mentored by people who are more mature than us. Since the frontal lobe isn’t fully developed until age 25, I’ve heard it said that, until then, parents act as their children’s frontal lobes. It’s a parent’s job to provide rules and structure to guide their children. But those rules aren’t meant to be eternal, they’re guidelines for a time and place. Like how one of my kids isn’t allowed to hold an umbrella. In time, he will mature enough to use an umbrella properly. (I sure hope so, anyway!)
The problem is that many adults, including parents, politicians, and pastors, are not spiritually mature. Many of our leaders are stuck in stage one of Brian Maclaren’s Four Stages of Faith. People in stage one tend to prioritize being “right” and pleasing authority figures, often at the expense of relationships. Stage ones are often obsessed with rules; Christians of this ilk love to stick the ten commandments up EVERYWHERE (hello, Louisiana!) You’ll notice they never argue for placing the much more spiritually demanding Beatitudes in courthouses or classrooms. Our former baby-in-chief has lauded this Louisiana decision,
“I LOVE THE TEN COMMANDMENTS IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS, PRIVATE SCHOOLS, AND MANY OTHER PLACES, FOR THAT MATTER. READ IT — HOW CAN WE, AS A NATION, GO WRONG??? ….THIS MAY BE, IN FACT, THE FIRST MAJOR STEP IN THE REVIVAL OF RELIGION, WHICH IS DESPERATELY NEEDED, IN OUR COUNTRY. BRING BACK TTC!!! MAGA2024.”
Anyone who, at this point, buys Trump’s “love” of the ten commandments is beyond the reach of logic. Trump’s all-caps screed is like a poorly written parody of that scene in The Crucible where the guy cheating on his wife can name all the commandments except the one on adultery.
We cannot count on spiritually immature people to guide us into spiritual maturity. If that was your parent, pastor, or other authority figure, you’re going to need to find better role models, and possibly work on re-parenting yourself. Reading about spiritual maturity can be a good start. Below, I’ve put together an infographic summary of The Four Stages, (though this chart has much more detail, so I’d recommend checking that out.)
All this is not to say we should necessarily judge people who are spiritually immature; we can remember that we were once like them and give them grace while accepting that they have a somewhat limited view of the world. (Though maybe we should stop electing these people to run literally everything??)
When I was in stage one, I would’ve judged the middle-aged woman at the piano recital, because she was violating a “rule” that piano recitals are for children. But luckily, I’ve grown since then and was, therefore, able to enjoy her jazz performance. She did a great job, and her presence underscored the beauty of the whole afternoon. While we’re used to expecting professionalism and perfection from performers, there’s something magical about amateurs. They overcome nerves and clumsy fingering out of a love for their art. The audience felt like a safety net, ready to catch any stumbles, ready to cheer on the performers’ successes.
Not only was the woman’s performance joyfully amateur, but it reminded me of another Rohr-ism: that “growing up” isn’t growing away from who we were as children, in some ways, it’s fulfilling that child-self. Maturation is somewhat spiral-like, once we get past our egos, we can reconnect with the most essential parts of ourselves. We’re not too cool to roll down a hill (joints permitting) or even perform our first piano recital.
Do you agree with Maclaren’s stages of faith? Which stage do you most identify with? Who do you look toward as a spiritual role model?
BONUS MATERIALS:
wanna learn more about BM’s 4 stages? Check out Do I Stay Christian? or Faith After Doubt
just because we’re spiritually mature doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a silly video
and this one’s for the parents.
I think I prefer Ken Wilber’s stages, and at the least, I think McLaren’s Harmony needs 4a and 4b because I think there is a difference between coming out of Perplexity into what Wilber would call “integral”, and the Harmony 4b that is truly transpersonal.
The bit that I really struggled with in Faith after Doubt was that McLaren seems to be suggesting that those in Harmony can peacefully coexist with those in Simplicity and Complexity. However at peace with oneself and others one is, I don’t see how one can coexist with those who deny one’s own development, silence one’s voice and who are dedicated to pulling one “back” to their level. Especially if they are the leadership!
Perhaps I will only understand this when I get to 4b myself.🤷♂️