In The Stars in Shroud by Gregory Benford, after Ling recovers from the Quarn plague, he travels to Veden, where he serves as commander of the Fleet base. While he searches for a solution to the psychological disorder that has incapacitated most of humanity, he also searches for a replacement to Sabal, the communal religious experience he formerly found so fulfilling. When this personal search goes unrewarded, he tells himself he doesn’t need Sabal: religion is nothing more than social glue. Rhandra comes into his life, and she helps him deal with his pain. But he knows he is incomplete. He has grown dependent upon Sabal. Without it, he is a broken vessel.
A Christian once told me that he celebrated Lent one year in a rather unorthodox manner. Instead of giving up a favorite food or activity, he gave up Church. By the time Easter arrived, he yearned to return to worship services, fellowship, and his various ministries. Time away reinforced the meaning behind all he did there. They weren’t superfluous activities, but enriching experiences.
There is a difference between attending a worship service ready to embrace whatever occurs therein, and attending each week with a deep-seated need for inspiration. There is a difference between attending fellowships needing to sense a real camaraderie with those you speak with, as opposed to being at peace regardless of what such conversations yield. Those possessing the former attitude can draw inspiration and happiness from what they find. Those attending with the latter perspective are destined for disappointment and alienation. After decades of church involvement and ministry, and repeatedly leaving one to search for another community where I might better fit in, I realized that I had somehow gravitated to the second camp. So, although it was not an easy decision, I finally opted to stop seeking out a new spiritual community for a time, until I could swap the former perspective for the latter.
Does this mean, according to the ideas expressed by Steven Covey in his book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, that I had regressed in my personal development from an Interdependent person to one Dependent upon others? Much as I respect his teaching, I suspect that human behavior is too complex for any particular model, chart, or philosophy to encompass. It seems reasonable to me that a person might be Dependent in one or more areas of his life, Independent in others, and Interdependent (or functioning at maximum effectiveness) in still other aspects of his life. Obviously, Ling has grown dependent upon communal worship for his spiritual fulfillment. I suspect that Tonji, his second-in-command, who rises high in Fleet after betraying his captain, would sink into far greater depths of despair than Ling, were he to find himself similarly court-martialed. Humanity itself has grown dependent upon the Empire’s leadership, while the Quarn, that hermit-like alien race, could not see life as worth living if each had to constantly submit to and engage with others. One thing seems certain: Just like Ling and Tonji, Humanity and the Quarn represent extremes. An extreme is never a wholesome position to occupy.
One last time, I refer to the beginning of the novel, in which Ling glimpses his own way forward, but does not recognize the opportunity. “I looked across the small cabin at my kensdai altar. I knew I was losing control of myself too often and not directing the conversation the way I wanted. I focused on the solid, dark finish of the wood that framed the altar, feeling myself merge with the familiarity of it. Focus down, let the center flow outward.” Due to his belief that humanity can function best in community, he does not utilize his personal altar, but calls a game of Sabal instead. Given the measure of strength he senses by looking at his personal altar, I find it ironic that, throughout the remainder of the novel, Ling never spends significant time in personal devotions.
While I admire how Ling’s puts others’ needs above his own, last year I determined that I needed to spend time away from Church in order to find my spiritual center. In that regard, I have labored these past twelve months to rebuild my individual relationship with the Divine. I have sought to envision myself as an individual, separate and apart from any community. This is not to say that I have abandoned Church: I’ve worshipped in numerous churches this past year, as referenced in previous entries. I have not become a hermit. I have simply repressed the desire to belong.
One day, if I find the right place for me, a community where I can be valued for who I am, and where I can effectively minister to others, I shall return. I still believe in the ideals of Church and Interdependence. But for now, I seek merely to stand on my own. For now, I am content to worship regularly only at my personal altar. From this position I have found my spiritual and emotional center. I have learned not to look to others for my completion; I have accepted my strengths and weaknesses, and learned how to view others through that paradigm.
In the novel, the Quarn never learn how to live in community with others of their race, let alone with humanity and the other intelligent alien species. Tonji never learns the joy of sublimating his own desires for the good of others. But at the end of the novel, Ling learns that it is possible to grow too dependent upon others for the completion of his personal identity. I understand what he has gone through, having traveled down that road this past year. If you find yourself in a similar position, I wish you all the courage in the world. For going it alone is never easy. But sometimes, it is the only way forward.
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