Lessons from the Life of Steve Jobs

In the last couple of years, I’ve really become interested in reading biographies. At first, this was purely for enjoyment, and mostly it still is. Reading biographies helps me to broaden my reading from the typical psychological and religious kinds of books that I most often gravitate toward to a different kind of book. Last January, though, I started to think of biographies in a different way when I attended a seminar sponsored by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum concerning first person accounts of the Holocaust of World War II. I started to think about the psychology of personality, and when it is that we really know a person. I started to study the ideas of Dan McAdams, a psychologist of personality at Northwestern University who argues that it is impossible to really know a person until you understand their narrative, their perception of identity typically couched in stories, and best understood through a personal relationship. McAdams has inspired me to pursue my interests in really understanding people of significance in depth. When I told a friend about this the other day, she said that this is because I like to “find out what’s wrong with people.” It’s interesting how people often perceive psychologists. The reality is that I like to find out what’s right with people, and adapt their best ideas to living well. That’s what I’d like to do here with Steve Jobs, reflecting on Walter Isaacson’s brilliant biography that I recently finished.

Many people probably are familiar with some of Steve Jobs’ problems. As far as I can tell, Jobs was an “all-or-nothing thinker,” often perceiving work and people either as “brilliant” or “shit.” He neglected some of his children. He made a lot of enemies. However, as in every person’s life, there is good to find as well, and in Jobs’ life, there is a lot of good to think about.

First, Steve Jobs had a very inquisitive and engaged mind, known to be largely independent of outside influence. He rebelled in school, often in admirable ways. As he said once, he “knew the school was at fault for trying to make me memorize stupid stuff rather than stimulating me.” He was forward thinking, preferring not to ask customers what they wanted, but rather focusing on figuring out what wanted before they even knew that’s what they wanted. As Jobs said, “People don’t know what they want until you show it to them.” He preferred working on problems of substance and playing with new ideas with people directly, often on long walks (like other great thinkers like Darwin and Einstein), an interesting paradox given the technology that he created. For instance, Jobs once remarked:

“There’s a temptation in our networked age to think that ideas can be developed by email and iChat. . . That’s crazy. Creativity comes from spontaneous meetings, from random discussions. You run into someone, you ask what they’re doing, you say ‘Wow,’ and soon you’re cooking up all sorts of ideas.”

This became the philosophy behind the new Pixar and Apple buildings that Jobs helped to design. That is, Jobs wanted individuals to bump into each other as often as possible to have creative discussions (to the point where he would limit the number of bathrooms in a building).

Another interesting element of Jobs’ approach was his reliance on intuition, rather than intellect. Reflecting on a trip to India when he was young, Jobs remarked:

“Intuition is a very powerful thing, more powerful than intellect, in my opinion. . . If you just sit and observe, you will see how restless your mind is. If you try to calm it, it only makes it worse, but over time it does calm, and when it does, there’s room to hear more subtle things – that’s when your intuition starts to blossom and you start to see things more clearly and be in the present more.”

Obviously, this is a very Buddhist, Zen way of life, something that strongly influenced Jobs. You can see this in the simplicity of many of the Apple products he helped to create.

More than anything, though, I was struck by Jobs’ motivation. Jobs once reflected:

“The older I get, the more I see how motivations matter. . . If you don’t love something, you’re not going to go the extra mile, work the extra weekend, challenge the status quo.”

His focus was extraordinary and challenging. He said:

“We all have a short period of time on this earth. We probably only have the opportunity to do a few things really great.”

This became the philosophy of Apple, which seeks to develop only a few products, but to make them “insanely great,” another of Jobs’ key phrases. As the new Apple CEO, Tim Cook, put it, “That allow[ed] him to focus on a few things and say no to many things. Few people are really good at that.”

Interestingly, some of this motivation came from Jobs’ appreciation for death, something he acquired early on in his life when several family members died. In fact, Jobs always believed he would die young. Reflecting on this, Jobs remarked in his famous commencement address at Stanford University in 2005:

“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

In the end, Jobs created “insanely great” products (and this comes from someone who doesn’t own a single Apple product). However, one of Jobs’ favorite maxims, which probably motivated him more than any other, concerns the intrinsic value of the process. As he stated, “the journey is the reward.”

How I Try to Parent

Like most every other parent in the world, I deeply love my kids, and want what is truly best for them. Much of what I want for them is psychological. For example, I hope that my kids become self-sufficient. I hope that they acquire the personal and interpersonal skills to have good emotional health and close relationships. I hope that they have an active intellectual life, filled with curiosity and wonder, and develop the cognitive skills to think critically and creatively.

Unlike most every other parent, however, I am a Professor of Psychology. I have spent approximately 20 years intensively studying what enables some kids to develop well, while many do not. I have led countless discussions about parenting, and once taught an entire parenting course. I have struggled with how to apply psychology to my own parenting.

Given all of this, what I write below is some of my personal philosophy of parenting. I realize that some of what I write may appear to be idealistic, but I have had many years to think this through and to try to figure out how to integrate insights into my life in ways that work. Furthermore, I should note that these generally are ideals. They are challenging (for me, too). In many ways, I fail to live up to these. However, they do provide me with guidelines that I strive toward.

The Relational Context

Perhaps what is most clear to me about the psychology of parenting is that much of parenting boils down to the importance of close relationships. This includes the importance of relationships between the parents and child, between the parents, and within a more extended community surrounding the family.

Considerable research suggests that the early relationship between a child and parents may set the stage for later development. For instance, infants who are securely attached with a primary caregiver are significantly more likely to be emotionally healthy 20-30 years later. Generally speaking, parents who are available to their kids during the first year are most likely to encourage this attachment. Perhaps more importantly, parents who are responsive to their infant’s needs tend to promote secure attachment. For instance, then, when a baby cries, parents who respond quickly and effectively are most likely to have children with a secure attachment style. Parents who are not sensitive to their baby’s cries are more likely to encourage an insecure attachment.

Interestingly, the famed scientist, Jane Goodall, observed many of these same relational processes in champanzees. As a result, when Goodall had a child, and even though she had more demands on her time than I can personally imagine, she made it a point to play with her child until he went to school every afternoon for several consecutive hours. She did not travel without her child for the first three years of life.

To help promote secure attachment with our young children, my wife and I intentionally decided not to try to accomplish too much when our kids were very little. Rather, we tried to focus more on taking care of our kids. My wife worked part-time when until our eldest was 2. When our youngest was born, she stayed home. Of course, there were financial consequences to these decisions, but we decided it was more important for one of us to be home than to make the extra money. Obviously, this not always is possible. However, there probably always are ways to minimize the amount of time parents are away from their kids, particularly in the first year of life.

As our kids have gotten older, we have continued to prioritize spending time with them. I try to have breakfast with my family as often as possible, and we rarely miss a dinner together. As our kids get older, we enforce limits on the number of extracurricular activities that we allow so that we can spend time together (no more than one at a time). Even if neighbor kids want to play, Friday nights are “family night.” No one else is allowed.

Parents who have a closer relationship with each other also generally are better able to help nurture their kids. They role model skills to nurture close relationships. They can help to buffer much of the stress that comes with parenting. Perhaps this helps to account for why children tend to have better outcomes when their parents are happily married. Even for those parents who split, however, being able to have a working relationship with a co-parent is correlated with kids’ outcomes. To paraphrase an often quoted sentiment, “if you want to love your child, love your partner first.” My wife and I take this advice seriously in many ways.

However, there are limitations to the nuclear family. At some point, children are going to need a broader community. There will be a time when kids need adults besides their parents. As the African proverb states, “it takes a village.”

In order to encourage this kind of community, I passed up many job opportunites out of graduate school so that we could live near family. This kind of intergenerational influence would seem very helpful and meaningful. Moreover, we intentionally seek to create a kind of “second family” around us by pursuing relationships with friends who have small kids. In particular, we have one small group of friends that we have committed to getting together with once per month. We intentionally have developed relationships with families that we can trade babysitting with (for free, and also which allows for my wife and I go to on dates). One of the ideas that guides us in this is to think about which peers we want to have an influence on our kids and which adults we want our kids to develop a relationship with so that, when the time comes, they have someone around that we trust who can provide good counsel. Of course, my wife and I also are willing to provide this kind of mentorship to the kids who are in these family relationships with us.

Behavior Problems

Much of the parenting rubber hits the road when children act in ways that are inappropriate for some reason. Given what I mention above, it is vital to consider how to deal with behavior problems while maintaining, or perhaps even strengthening, the quality of relationship between the child and parents. At the very least, it is important to note that discipline is much more likely to be effective when parents have a close relationship with the child. If they don’t, discipline is much more likely to lead to resentment and more behavior problems.

According to John Gottman, Professor of Psychology at the University of Washington, problem behavior has more to do with difficulty in dealing with emotions than it does with the behavior itself. When dealing with a difficult behavior, Gottman recommends the following:

1. Be more aware of the child’s emotions than their behavior.
2. Empathize, label, and validate the child’s emotions.
3. Address inappropriate behavior (if relevant) and problem-solve.

For example, one time after I came home from work, my daughter, Ellie, who normally is very sweet and gentle, started throwing clothes at me from her bedroom. I asked her why, and she started yelling at me that “I hate school, Daddy!” Some parents might think to themselves that the behavior is the primary problem here, and thereby try to do something about the behavior (give the child a time out or spank them, for instance). In a moment of clarity, I thought about Gottman’s idea that problem behavior primarily reflects a problem in emotions, however. Following Gottman’s advice, I let Ellie yell for a while and, when she calmed down, reflected that she appeared very angry and concerned about going to school. This validation softened Ellie’s heart enough that eventually she told me that the real problem was that there was a boy that was picking on her at school. This helped me to understand the real source of the problem, which we then could address. We discussed what she could do about the situation, and then I told her that it wasn’t really okay for her to yell at me and throw her clothes. I asked her to apologize, which she did, and then she had to put away all her clothes, a natural consequence to her behavior. The next day, I asked her what happened with the boy, and she said he again picked on her. However, she stood her ground and said that she didn’t like his behavior and that if he continued, she would tell her teacher. He stopped and the problem was resolved.

What I like about this parenting approach is that it gets at the root cause of problem behavior and teaches kids skills to deal with life. It also connects parents and children as they come together to address problems. It also requires that children deal with the natural consequences of their actions. Although this example obviously is age-dependent (Ellie was 6 at the time this occurred), some version of emotion-coaching can be applied to parenting a child of any age. Also, of course, it doesn’t always work as neatly as the example I have shared, but the notion of emotion-coaching helps me to conceptualize what I intend to do with my kids, particularly when they are upset. It is a way to use behavior problems as a way to connect with my kids.

Intellectual Development

In general, intellectual development (in all ages) depends on exposure to enriching experiences. The famous Swiss developmental psychologist, Jean Piaget, once taught that “knowledge is not given to the passive observer; rather, it is discovered and  constructed by the activities of the [individual]. Thus, cognitive development depends upon activity, typically performed in relation to meaningful stimuli.

There are many kinds of enriching activities that might encourage development for children. Examples include age-appropriate toys, board games, card games, pretend play, music, language studies (sign language or a foreign language), movement, puzzles of various kinds, sports, nature, arts and crafts, interactions with different children, and reading. The reason why these activities are particularly enriching is that they require engagement.

My wife and I try to make use of this information in our family life. For example, our family plays games together virtually every day. We go to the public library every week to pick out new books to read during the coming week. We have enrolled Ellie, our eldest, in piano lessons. We encourage unstructured, creative, spontaneous play as much as possible. We also often have children from other families over to play. We prioritize some of our income every paycheck to save for travel sometime during the coming year. We also try to go to as many cultural events as possible.

Some of these suggestions may seem to require a lot of time and money, but they really don’t. Most importantly, they require an intentional commitment. For instance, because we believe these kinds of activities are important, we find very little time for passive activities such as watching television (we limit technology use to ½ hour per day). Furthermore, money isn’t really an issue for most of these activities. Typically, we find that a lot is available in the community that is free or inexpensive if we just watch for and take advantage of opportunities that are available.

Parting Thoughts

I hope what I’ve written is helpful and not overwhelming. If you’re interested in improving your parenting at some point, it may be helpful to focus on one idea above to try. At the same time, it is important, particularly in our culture, not to try to be perfect. No parent is or can be perfect. We’re all fallible, and kids will learn from how we deal with mistakes as well. In many ways, it may be essential to determine what constitutes being a “good enough parent.” Being stressed out about being an ideal parent isn’t going to help anyone either.

This I Believe

This essay recently was published by “This I Believe.”

http://thisibelieve.org/essay/98543/

Differences Across Christian Traditions

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged anything. This is not because of a lack of writing. In fact, I’ve been working on revising a manuscript for The International Journal for the Psychology of Religion dealing with how the association between religious commitment and subjective well-being varies across Christian traditions. This study replicates other research we’ve done, and shows that commitment predicts better well-being for Evangelical Protestants and poorer well-being for Mainline Protestants.

The results of our research dovetails with the ideas of the late sociologist Dean Kelley. According to Kelley, Evangelical Protestant churches tend to emphasize values such as salvation that are less available in secular venues. Perhaps as a result, these churches tend to be more “strict” or “serious,” and tend to have members who believe that they hold the one truth, form a “tight” community, and passionately seek to convince others of their beliefs. Related to this, members are thought to be wholeheartedly committed to their religious beliefs, disciplined in trying to live them out, and zealous in evangelizing to others. These characteristics, in turn, are theorized to promote greater institutional vitality (such as greater growth in church membership) because they help fulfill the essential function of religion, which Kelley described as “explaining the meaning of life in ultimate terms.” In contrast, according to Kelley, Mainline Protestant churches and the post-Vatican II Catholic Church emphasize (in practice, though not necessarily in theology) values that often also are emphasized in secular venues, such as community, knowledge, social justice, and political change. Those affiliated with these traditions tend to believe that no one has a monopoly on the truth, seek individual responsibility, and show caution about expressing religious beliefs. Given this, Kelley posits that members within these traditions tend to be lukewarm with respect to their commitment levels, appreciative of diverse perspectives, and interested in dialogue with others holding different beliefs. Kelley believed that these characteristics may not be as effective in fulfilling the essential purpose of religion concerning the provision of meaning, and therefore result in various forms of institutional weakness (such as declines in church membership).

Related to this, I’ve been reading about how the sense of religious culture may shape the experience of community within a religious group. For instance, in an article published in The Sociological Quarterly last week, a researcher from Baylor University found that people with traditional beliefs are more likely to feel a sense of belonging. In contrast, the author of this article suggests that those who belong to less traditional religious groups place more emphasis on freedom, choice, and self-creation, and thus are less likely to connect.

Awe of the Sublime

In 1757, the philosopher Edmund Burke published “A Philosophical Enquiry Into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful.” In this book, Burke makes the case that these two major affections are considerably different, with the sublime involving more of an element of terror and the beautiful involving more an element of pure pleasure. I focus this post on Burke’s ideas about the sublime as a way to achieving insight into the emotion of awe.

Although I would consider Burke’s analysis of the sublime mostly to deal with what I would term “awe,” he states that “the passion caused the great and sublime in nature. . . is astonishment.” He defines “astonishment” as:

“. . . that state of soul, in which all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror. . . In this case the mind is so filled with its object, that it cannot entertain any other, nor by consequence reason on that object which employs it.”

He goes on to say that “interior effects” of the sublime include “admiration,” “reverence,” and “respect.”

Much of Burke’s analysis involves his attempt to speculate on the characteristics of the sublime. These include the following:

1. Novelty.

2. Terror. Burke believes this is the essential underpinning to the sublime. He refers to other terms in this discussion including “fear,” “wonder,” “terrible,” “respectable,” “reverence,” “thunderstruck,” and “amazement.”

3. Obscurity. As he states, “when we know the full extent of any danger, when we can accustom our eyes to it, a great deal of the apprehension vanishes.” For instance, Burke notes that “night adds to our dread,” and that many religious practices have been carried out in the dark.

4. Power. This, Burke believes, may relate to the feeling of possibly being hurt, which contributes to terror.

5. Privation. Here Burke refers to other terms such as “vacuity,” “darkness,” “solitude,”and “silence.”

6. Vastness. Burke hypothesizes here that “height is less grand than depth; and that we are more struck at looking down from a precipice, than at looking up at an object of equal height.”

7. Infinity. Included here is the idea of eternity.

8. Difficulty. That is, something that requires considerable effort, often correlates with the sublime.

9. Magnificence. A starry night is the example Burke provides.

10. Light. Either extreme light or darkness, Burke believes, carries with it the sublime best.

11. Color. Related to light, Burke believes that cloudiness and gloominess connote the sublime most effectively.

12. Loudness. Examples include raging storms, thunder, artillery, or the shouting of multitudes.

13. Suddenness.

Burke has many original ideas in his book, including his focus on how painting may be sublime (especially when images are obscure, dark, confused, or uncertain). He discusses how buildings may connote the sublime, particularly when greatness of dimension is present. He writes that the cries of animals may be sublime. He writes at length about how writing, particularly poetry, may be sublime.

Most surprising for me, however, was Burke’s extensive discussion of religion as a source of the sublime, as religion often brings together many of the aforementioned characteristics.

As one example, Burke quotes from the Book of Job:

“Amid disquieting dreams in the night, when deep sleep falls on people, fear and trembling seized me and made all my bones shake. A spirit glided past my face, and the hair on my body stood on end. It stopped, but I could not tell what it was. A form stood before my eyes, and I heard a hushed voice: ‘Can a man be more righteous than God? Can human beings be more pure than their Maker?’” (Job 4:13-17).

He comments that:

“We are first prepared with the utmost solemnity for the vision; we are first terrified, before we are let even into the obscure cause of our emotion; but when this grand cause of terror makes its appearance, what is it? Is it not, wrapt up in the shades of its own incomprehensible darkness, more aweful, more striking, more terrible, than the liveliest description, than the clearest painting could possibly represent it?”

Burke goes on to state, at length, his conclusions about the relationship between the sublime and religion:

“I know some people are of opinion, that no awe, no degree of terror, accompanies the idea of power, and have hazarded to affirm, that we can contemplate the idea of God himself without any such emotion. . . Whilst we consider the Godhead merely as he is an object of the understanding, which forms a complex idea of power, wisdom, justice, goodness, all stretched to a degree far exceeding the bounds of our comprehension, whilst we consider the divinity in this refined and abstracted light, the imagination and passions are little or nothing affected. . . Some reflection, some comparing is necessary to satisfy us of his wisdom, his justice, and his goodness; to be struck with his power, it is only necessary that we should open our eyes. But whilst we contemplate so vast an object, under the arm, as it were, of almighty power, and invested upon every side with omnipresence, we shrink into the minuteness of our own nature, and are, in a manner, annihilated before him. And though a consideration of his other attributes may relieve in some measure our apprehensions; yet no conviction of the justice with which it is exercised, nor the mercy with which it is tempered, can wholly remove the terror that naturally arises from a force which nothing can withstand. If we rejoice, we rejoice with trembling; and even whilst we are receiving benefits, we cannot but shudder at a power which can confer benefits of such mighty importance. . . In the scripture, wherever God is represented as appearing or speaking, every thing terrible in nature is called up to heighten the awe and solemnity of the divine presence. . . It were endless to enumerate all the passages both in the sacred and profane writers which establish the general sentiment of mankind, concerning the inseparable union of a sacred and reverential awe, with our ideas of the divinity.”

Awe as a Positive Emotion

I’ve long been impressed by the ideas and scientific research of Barbara Fredrickson, a Professor of Psychology at the University of North Carolina. Others have as well. Marty Seligman, often regarded as the founder of Positive Psychology, once called Fredrickson “the genius” of the movement. In fact, when the Templeton Prize in Positive Psychology first was awarded in 2000, Fredrickson won first prize, an award worth $1,000,000.

The central focus of Fredrickson’s work concerns positive emotions. She summarizes her work in the book “Positivity,” from which I draw material for this post.

Much of Fredrickson’s early thinking sought to answer the question: “What good are positive emotions?” In response, Fredrickson speculated that positive emotions function to “broaden and build.” As she explains in her book:

“[Positive emotions] broaden people’s ideas about possible actions, opening our awareness to a wider range of thoughts and actions than is typical. Joy, for instance, sparks the urge to play and be creative. Interest sparks the urge to explore and learn, whereas serenity sparks the urge to savor our current circumstances and integrate them into a new view of ourselves and the world around us. . . By opening our hearts and minds, positive emotions allow us to discover and build new skills, new ties, new knowledge, and new ways of being.”

Considerable scientific research supports these claims. For instance, in his dissertation, my friend, Dr. Ty Tashiro, randomly assigned couples to view an enjoyable or unpleasant movie clip. Then, he had couples discuss a problem. He found that couples who had enjoyed a movie clip were more creative in solving the problem (because of a broadened mindset), which helped their relationship (a resource that was thus built), relative to those who had experienced negative emotion during a movie clip.

In her book, Fredrickson identifies 10 different positive emotions that may operate by the “broaden and build” theory: Joy, gratitude, serenity, interest, hope, pride, amusement, inspiration, love, and awe. Of most interest to me is awe, which I will discuss most below.

According to Fredrickson:

“. . . awe happens when you come across goodness on a grand scale. You literally feel overwhelmed by greatness. By comparison, you feel small and humble. Awe makes you stop in your tracks. You are momentarily transfixed. Boundaries melt away and you feel part of something larger than yourself. Mentally, you’re challenged to absorb and accommodate the sheer scale of what you’ve encountered. . . Although a form of positivity, awe at times sits so close to the edge of safety that we get a whiff of negativity as well. Awe mixes with fear. . . Awe, like gratitude and inspiration, is a self-transcendent emotion.”

Generally speaking, Fredrickson believes that emotional experience depends on how people think. As she states:

“Positive emotions – like all emotions – arise from how you interpret events and ideas as they unfold. They depend on whether you allow yourself to take a moment to find the good – and on whether, once you’ve found it, you pump that goodness up and let it grow.”

Fredrickson also has several suggestions for increasing positive emotion. Most relevant to possible interventions to increase awe, she discusses the value of spending time in nature. As she writes:

“Being immersed in nature carries both fascination, in that it draws your attention involuntarily, and vastness, in that it provides sufficient scope and richness to fully occupy your attention. These two qualities of experiencing nature may well produce positivity and openness. They’re also what seem to make your time in nature so healing and restorative.”

A second intervention that Fredrickson (indirectly) connects with awe is a loving-kindness meditation. In this kind of meditation, individuals train their emotions to be warm, tender, and compassionate, first by visualizing a scene that generates these emotions, then by letting these emotions linger, and finally by extending these emotions toward other people. To more directly promote awe, perhaps one could do a meditation in which the focus is on a previous awe-inspiring event.

This reminds me of a study done a few years ago at the University of California where researchers randomly assigned individuals to write, talk, or think about negative and positive life experiences. “Replaying” positive experiences in thought resulted in greater happiness and health outcomes, relative to writing or talking about them. The reverse was true for negative life experiences.

A third possible way to better experience awe is to train one’s mind to pay greater attention to direct sensory experiences. Fredrickson advises:

“On your morning walk, rather than being lost in your ever-expanding mental to-do list, practice being open to the colors of the leaves and blooms, the call of the nearby birds, the smell of the wet grass, the feel of the cool morning air against your skin, or even the pressure of the earth beneath your feet.”

Finally, as a part of a larger “positivity portfolio,” Fredrickson encourages individuals to develop an “awe portfolio,” consisting of photos, words, and objects that capture previous experiences with the emotion. To help with this process, she suggests that individuals ponder the following questions:

“1. When have you felt intense wonder or amazement, truly in awe of your surroundings?”

2. When have you felt overwhelmed by greatness, or by beauty on a grand scale?

3. When have you been stopped in your tracks, transfixed by grandeur?

4. When have you felt part of something much larger than yourself?”

Favorite Proverbs

One of the most intriguing books of the Bible is the book of Proverbs, which contains sayings intended to promote wisdom in readers. I’ve been reading these Proverbs for the past few months. Below are some of my favorites:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will keep your paths straight.” (3:5-6)

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” (4:23)

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.” (15:22)

“Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” (16:18)

“Whoever would foster love covers over an offense, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends.” (17:9)

“A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” (17:22)

“Fools find no pleasure in understanding but delight in airing their own opinions.” (18:2)

“Listen to advice and accept discipline, and at the end you will be counted among the wise.” (19:20)

“Who can say, ‘I have kept my heart pure; I am clean and without sin?’” (20:9)

“Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.” (22:6)

“Let someone else praise you, and not your own mouth; an outsider, and not your own lips.” (27:2)

“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” (27:17)

“As water reflects the face, so one’s life reflects the heart.” (27:19)

“Blessed are those who always tremble before God, but those who harden their hearts fall into trouble.” (28:14)

God as Self-Evident

“I don’t believe in God; I know.” (Carl Jung)

My growing interest in religious and mystical experiences has led me to consider the optimal approach to determine whether God really is real or not. To do this, I’ve re-read a book by Roy Clouser called “Knowing with the Heart.”

Clouser begins the book by acknowledging that arguments for or against the existence of God always are inconclusive. Rather, he argues that belief in God comes through direct experience. As he states:

“Proving is actually an inferior way of coming to know something, a way we resort to when we can’t directly experience what we want to know. . . But genuine belief in God doesn’t regard God as a hypothesis, and it doesn’t need proof. It’s a belief that is both acquired and justified by experience.”

Clouser goes on to discuss three different kinds of religious experiences.

First is the kind that involves the faculties of sense perception (for example, seeing and hearing). Visions and voices would fall into this category, as would perceptions of many miracles. As an example, Cloiser discusses the experience of a village chief of the Apinaye tribe of Eastern Brazil:

“I was hunting near the sources of the Botica creek. All along the journey I had been agitated and was constantly startled without knowing why. Suddenly I saw him standing under the branches of a big steppe tree. . . I recognized at once that it was he. Then I lost all courage. My hair stood on end, and on my knees were trembling. . . When I had grown somewhat calmer, I raised my head. . . I pulled myself together and walked several steps toward him, then I could not go farther because my knees gave way.”

The second type of religious experience that Clouser mentions does not involve sensory perception. As an example, he reports information gained from an interview he conducted:

“I was alone for the evening and decided to try reading the Gospel of John as you had suggested, convinced it could make no difference to my skepticism about God. I’d picked up the Bible and turned to John, when suddenly I was overwhelmed by a presence that filled the room. I was startled and jumped up, closing the book at the same time. It seemed to be gone, so I decided my mind was playing tricks on me; I’d get a shower, calm down and try again. Refreshed by the shower, I was surprised at the way I’d let the simple suggestion of reading the Bible spook me. ‘It’s just a book!’ I said, laughing at myself. But when I opened the Bible again, the presence was far more overpowering than the first time. Although it was not threatening – and in fact was powerfully loving – I was really scared. I threw the Bible across the room and yelled, ‘Go away and leave me alone! I like my life the way it is!’ But it persisted; it would not let me go. Now in tears, I picked up the book again and began to read John chapter 1, and suddenly it all looked undeniably true.”

William James, also quoted by Clouser, also describes this kind of experience when he wrote:

“I remember the night, and almost the very spot on the hilltop, where my soul opened out, as it were, into the Infinite. . . I stood alone with Him who had made me, and all the beauty of the world, and love, and sorrow, and even temptation. . . The darkness held a presence that was all the more felt because it was not seen. I could not have any more doubted that He was there than that I was. Indeed, I felt myself to be, if possible, the less real of the two.”

Finally, Clouser mentions mystical experiences, originally described by James as a kind of trancelike state, which I have written about previously.

In reflecting on these kinds of experiences, Clouser notes that all bring a sense of certainty to them. That is, those who have religious and mystical experiences often can not doubt any more because they had a personal encounter that they cannot deny.

Clouser’s major thesis in the book is that these kinds of intuitive experiences provide the best evidence for the existence of God because they show that God is self-evident (at least to many people). He refers to other prominent Christians who believed similarly. For instance, Calvin stated:

“Scripture bears upon the face of it as clear evidence of its truth, as white and black do of their color, sweet and bitter of their taste. . . Scripture, carrying its own evidence along with it, deigns not to submit to proofs and arguments, but owes the full conviction with which we ought to receive it to the testimony of the Spirit.”

Similarly, Pascal held that “belief in God is knowledge because it is grounded on the same sort of intuitive self-evidency that scientific first principles are.”

This reminds me of the well-known Christian philosopher, Alvin Plantinga, and his ideas about the self-evidency of God. For more information on these ideas, see my blog post that follows:

http://thequestforagoodlife.wordpress.com/2008/12/10/plantingas-arguments-about-god-being-self-evident/

I find these arguments about an intuitive way to believe increasingly interesting. In fact, it generally seems to be the case that individuals intuit what they want to believe, and then find reasons later that allow their beliefs to be maintained. That is, not many people come to believe or not believe in God because of intellectual reasons. However, I can’t help but wonder why God, then, is not self-evident to some people. Is it that other matters of the heart – pride, anger, or confusion – get in the way sometimes?

The Psychology of Spiritual Experience

“How does God become real to people when God is understood to be invisible and immaterial, as God is within the Christian tradition?” So begins one of several fascinating scholarly articles regarding the psychology of spiritual experience by a Stanford anthropologist by the name of Tanya Luhrmann.

Many of Luhrmann’s ideas about this question come from her ethnographic study of a Vineyard church in Chicago in which she involved herself in two years of Sunday morning services, a weekly Bible study housegroup, conferences, retreats, and casual conversations. Importantly, Luhrmann notes that individuals she observed in her research seemed to differ in their ability to “experience God.” For instance, members of the congregation acknowledged that:

“. . . each person would experience God in their own way and develop their own pattern of learning to recognize him: some through warm tingling; others through goose bumps; others still through images or impressions or scriptural phrases.”

Yet, others in Luhrmann’s research noted that they had a difficult time with spiritual experience. One person commented that “I don’t have these supernatural experiences that make me fall to my knees.”

Why do some seem more able to experience God than others? Referencing the Nobel-award winning psychologist, Daniel Kahneman, Luhrmann suggests that there are two dominant modes of reasoning that individuals regularly use. One mode emphasizes reflective and deliberative thought. Those who rely on this mode often (thought not necessarily) may have a more difficult time with religion and spirituality, in general. The second mode emphasizes intuitive reasoning. This appears to be the primary kind of thinking involved in religious and spiritual experience.

Luhrmann believes that spiritual experience, to some extent, depends upon learning. Congregations that promote spiritual experience basically “teach” them to do so. For instance, individuals must learn to interpret ambiguous events in a spiritual way, using suitable language. In Luhrmann’s research, congregants were asked how they distinguished thoughts and images that came from God from those that came from themselves. Luhrmann reports common “tests:” “the thought or image was different from what they were thinking about; the thought or image was in keeping with God’s character; the interpretation ‘this is God’ could be confirmed in some other way; and the experience brought peace.”

A key psychological factor that Luhrmann identifies in spiritual experience concerns the trait of “absorption.” My former Professor at the University of Minnesota, Dr. Auke Tellegen, identified this trait as a key factor that helped to explain who is most easily hypnotized.

Similar to Kahneman’s ideas about different kind of reasoning, Tellegen believes that individuals are more or less prone to an “instrumental set” and an “experiential set.” The trait of absorption is conceived by Tellegen to be the proclivity to enter into an experiential set. Later researchers at the University of Alberta believe that the trait of absorption involves the motivation to seek experiences (rather than instrumental activities) and the cognitive processes to encounter them in a particular way.

Specifically, Tellegen believes that people high in the trait of absorption are responsive to evocative sights and sounds (such as sunsets), readily captured by entrancing stimuli (such as overpowering music), tend to think in images, have “cross-modal” experiences (such as synesthesia when, for example, sounds evoke images), are capable of compelling imaginations, can vividly re-experience the past, become deeply immersed in their own thoughts, and experience episodes of expanded and altered awareness. In his original 1974 article in which he introduced the idea, he notes that this trait has been “. . . described and discussed widely in literature on meditation, expanded awareness, peak experiences, mysticism, esthetic experience, regression in the service of the ego, altered states of consciousness, and in the literature on drug effects.” He also notes that “one would expect high-absorption persons to have an affinity for mystical experience.”

And, in fact, this is exactly what Lurhmann finds in her research, as absorption is correlated with sharper mental images, greater focus, and more unusual spiritual experiences. Other research finds that absorption is linked with religion pursued for its own sake, but not religion pursued for secondary reasons. Although absorption has a clear genetic component, Luhrmann also believes it can be cultivated. She writes that:

“. . . the skills of meditation and visualization – which are attentional skills to train absorption – have been taught throughout history and across culture. . . they are learnable skills. . . mastery of those skills is associated with intense spiritual experience.

Examples of these kinds of practices within the Christian tradition include St. Ignatious of Loyola’s spiritual exercises and Brother Lawrence’s ideas about “practicing the presence of God.”

Perhaps absorption also is a key psychological precursor to the experience of awe. If true, then maybe awe may be enhanced through spiritual exercises like those mentioned above. Furthermore, I wonder whether individuals could experience more religious awe by learning to connect powerful, but otherwise secular stimuli (such as might be found in nature, art, music, or in the presence of a powerful or virtuous person), with the spiritual. This notion of “sanctification” has been studied by psychology of religion researchers and has been called an important component of “spiritual intelligence” by University of California scientist Bob Emmons.

More broadly, reading some of this material makes me appreciate the unitive function of religion. In some way, intrinsic religiousness, mystical experience, and highly absorbing “flow” experiences all order consciousness and bring unity among the person, the situation, other people, and God.

Mystery and Awe in the Writings of C. S. Lewis

C. S. Lewis arguably is the most influential Christian thinker of the modern era. He is best known for his children’s books (the Chronicles of Narnia) and his apologetic writings (for example, Mere Christianity). Less understood is C. S. Lewis’s thinking about mystery and awe, which actually seem to undergird many of his other ideas. This is the subject of a book by David Downing, “Into the Region of Awe,” from which I draw heavily below.

Downing begins his book by reviewing some perspectives about mystery. He refers to William James, who noted that mystical states may be characterized by a noetic quality (providing a sense of new insight), a sense of ineffability (eluding description in words), passivity (creating a sense of an overpowered will), and a short time duration (lasting two hours or less). James is quoted by Downing as saying:

“Mystical states wield no authority due simply to their being mystical states. But the higher ones among them point in directions to which the religious sentiments of even non-mystical men incline. They tell of the supremacy of the ideal, of vastness, of union, of safety, and of rest. . . The supernaturalism and optimism to which they would persuade us may, interpreted one way or another, be after all the truest of insights into the meaning of this life.”

Scholar R. M. Jones defines mysticism differently. Downing notes that:

“For Jones, mystical experiences do not necessarily supply new ideas to the mind; rather they transform what one believes into what one knows, converting abstract concepts, such as divine love, into vivid personal realities.”

Evelyn Underhill, a pioneer in the study of mysticism, defined this state as “the direct intuition or experience of God.” She insisted that “every human soul has a latent capacity for God.” Mystics, according to Underhill, have “realized this capacity with an astonishing richness.”

Rudolf Otto distinguished between different kinds of mysticism, identifying what he called a “soul mysticism” of the East and a “God mysticism” of the West. As Downing writes:

“Though there are exceptions, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism tend to stress desirable states of consciousness, escaping the fretful, self-aware state of mind that so often makes everyday living a burden. For mystics from the Abrahamic faiths, however, the inward odyssey is also an upward odyssey, a quest for personal and vital communion with an infinite Being.”

Given this background, C. S. Lewis definitely possessed a mystical side. As a child, Lewis was fascinated by George MacDonald’s book, Phantastes, which he later noted “baptized his imagination.” As Lewis later wrote:

“The quality which had enchanted me in his imaginative works turned out to be the quality of the real universe, the divine, magical, terrifying, and ecstatic reality in which we all live.”

The mystical side of C. S. Lewis plays a prominent role in his non-fiction writings. In his autobiographical book, Surprised by Joy, Lewis notes:

“Into the region of awe, in deepest solitude there is a right road out of the self, a commerce with. . . the Naked Other, imageless (though our imagination salutes it with a hundred images), unknown, undefined, desired.”

In his “Letters to Malcolm,” Lewis notes how easily we forget that the world is “big with God,” that “all ground is holy and every bush is a Burning Bush.” He goes on to say that the highest forms of prayer enable an awareness that “here is the holy ground, the Bush is burning now.”

He often refers to Edwyn Bevan’s book, “Symbolism and Belief,” in “The Problem of Pain” and “Miracles.” Bevan is known for suggesting that deity is most often associated with images of height, agelessness, and dazzling light.

As I’ve written before, Lewis has my favorite description of awe, written in “The Problem of Pain:”

“Suppose you were told that there was a tiger in the next room: you would know that you were in danger and would probably feel fear. But if you were told ‘There is a ghost in the next room,’ and believed it, you would feel, indeed, what is often called fear, but of a different kind. It would not be based on the knowledge of danger, for no one is primarily afraid of what a ghost may do to him, but of the mere fact that it is a ghost. It is ‘uncanny’ rather than dangerous, and the special kind of fear it excites may be called Dread. With the Uncanny one has reached the fringes of the Numinous. Now suppose that you were told simply ‘There is a mighty spirit in the room’ and believed it. Your feelings would then be even less like the mere fear of danger: but the disturbance would be profound. You would feel wonder and a certain shrinking–described as awe.”

Related to this, also writing in the “Problem of Pain,” Lewis notes:

“You asked for a loving God: you have one. The great spirit you so likely invoked, the ‘lord of terrible aspect,’ is present: not a senile benevolence that drowsily wishes you to be happy in your own way, not the cold philanthropy of a conscientious magistrate, nor the care of a host who feels responsible for the comfort of his guests, but the consuming fire Himself, the Love that made the worlds, persistent as the artist’s love for his work and despotic as a man’s love for a dog, provident and venerable as a father’s love for a child, jealous, inexorable, exacting as love between the sexes.”

C. S. Lewis’s interests in mysticism and awe are even more apparent in his fictional writings. In the Chronicles of Narnia, Aslan (the Jesus figure) literally means “a sensation of mysterious horror.” In “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,” Aslan produces a feeling of “mysterious horror” in Edmund, in particular. When Aslan comes back to life, the children were said to be “as frightened as they were glad.” In another book in this series, “The Horse and His Boy,” Aslan is transfigured, shining like the sun. In response, Shasta dismounts his horse and falls to his knees, feeling that “no-one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.”

On the other hand, Downing notes that Lewis was somewhat skepticism of mysticism at the same time. Lewis noted that there seemed to be a good deal of “spurious mysticism” that existed and that mysticism may not definitely lead to certainty about truth claims. Furthermore, he noted that closeness to the Divine may be experienced without much feeling and that the Spirit does not only speak within, but also through the Bible, church services, Christian books, and discerning friends.

The Reason for God

Those who doubt the existence of God often say that it is simply unreasonable to believe. For instance, the famed atheist, Richard Dawkins, often equates belief in God with belief in fairies. In this analogy, belief is a nice thing, but obviously is not true.

In reading “The Reason for God,” by Timothy Keller, I was impressed by the idea that everyone has a “faith” in something; that is, those who do not believe in God must believe in an alternative that also is unproven. For example, I was speaking with someone the other day who said that she didn’t really care whether or not God exists; she is a good person, after all, and a loving God would allow good people to go to heaven when they die, right? Based on what I was reading in Keller’s book, I asked her whether her alternative belief was that it doesn’t really matter what  you believe as long as you’re good, and she said “yes.” However, this opens up many more questions. For instance, what is the evidence or logic that supports the idea that it doesn’t really matter what you believe? Could this belief endure close scrutiny? Also, is it really possible to be fully good? For example, can anyone really say that they’re always good? Even when people do “good” deeds, are their motives really pure?

A common opinion about belief in God is that the burden of proof is the believer’s. However, if one realizes that everyone has faith in something, then the question becomes which belief system stands most to reason?

In fact, there are many solid reasons to believe in God. I’ve discussed many of these before in this blog. In reading and discussing Keller’s book, what most impressed me is how most people often long for something akin to a Savior. In many of my discussions with intelligent, open-minded atheists over the years, I’ve have continually been surprised by their admission that, though they can’t intellectually agree that God exists or that Jesus is the Son of God, they wish that they could. Even when they can’t accept this in the present, individuals often admit that there may come a day where they will, such as when a loved one dies, or when they face death themselves. Keller discusses this when he writes:

“Doesn’t the unfulfillable longing evoked by beauty qualify as an innate desire? We have a longing for joy, love, and beauty that no amount or quality of food, sex, friendship, or success can satisfy. We want something that nothing in this world can fulfill. Isn’t that at least a clue that this ‘something’ that we want exists?”

A final one of Keller’s arguments also is worth mentioning. Keller acknowledges that religious “fundamentalism” often leads to violence, but he also notes that everyone has some “fundamental, unprovable-faith commitments that we think are superior to those of others.” He goes on to say:

“The real question, then, is which fundamentals will lead their believers to be the most loving and receptive to those with whom they differ? Which set of unavoidably exclusive beliefs will lead us to humble, peace-loving behavior?. . . Christians [have] within their belief system the strongest possible resource for practicing sacrificial service, generosity, and peace-making. At the very heart of their view of reality was a man who died for his enemies, praying for their forgiveness. Reflection on this could only leads to a radically different way of dealing with those who were different from them.”

Of course, there are many historical examples of how this has not been borne out. The Christian Church’s behavior over the centuries may be the single best reason not to be Christian. However, it is critical not to “throw the baby out with the bath water.” Christians always have and always will fail to live up to the example of Christ. Christians are deeply flawed, just like everyone else. However, this does not take away from Keller’s point that if someone took Jesus’s teachings seriously, they very well may be most likely to reflect love and acceptance. In fact, the Christian way provides the only worldview that begins with the assumption that people are hypocritical and cannot reach eternal bliss and virtue without the graceful help of a Savior.

The Idea of the Holy

“Awe is the best of man.” (Goethe)

“A God comprehended is no God.” (Gerhard Tersteegen)

In his book, “The Idea of the Holy,” the Germany theologian, Rudolf Otto, writes what is perhaps the most original and compelling discussion of awe ever provided. I quote heavily from Otto’s book below to convey his original thoughts.

Otto’s main discussion centers on what he calls the “mysterium tremendum.” In general, he describes this experience in the following way:

“The feeling of it may at times come sweeping like a gentle tide, pervading the mind with a tranquil mood of deepest worship. It may pass over into a more set and lasting attitude of the soul, continuing, as it were, thrillingly vibrant and resonant, until at last it dies away and the soul resumes its ‘profane,’ non-religious mood of everyday experience. It may burst in sudden eruption up from the depths of the soul with spasms and convulsions, or lead to the strangest excitements, to intoxicated frenzy, to transport, and ecstasy. It has its wild and demonic forms and can sink to an almost grisly horror and shuddering. It has its crude, barbaric antecedents and early manifestations, and again it may be developed into something beautiful and pure and glorious. It may become the hushed, trembling, and speechless humility of the creature in the presence of – whom or what? In the presence of that which is a mystery inexpressable and above all creatures.”

He goes on to identify three elements of the notion of “tremendum.”

1. The element of awefulness.

“Tremor is in itself merely the perfectly familiar and ‘natural’ emotion of fear. . . There are in some languages special expressions which denote, either exclusively or in the first instance, this ‘fear’ that is more than fear proper. The Hebrew. . . (hallow) is an example. To ‘keep a thing holy in the heart’ means to mark it off by a feeling of particular dread, not to be mistaken for any ordinary dread, that is, to appraise it by the category of the numinous. . . Of modern languages English has the words ‘awe,’ ‘aweful,’ which in their deeper and most special sense approximate closely to our meaning. The phrase, ‘he stood aghast,’ is also suggestive in this connexion. . . ‘Religious dread’ (or ‘awe’) would perhaps be a better designation. . . It first begins to stir in the feeling of ‘something uncanny,’ ‘eerie,’ or ‘weird.’ It is this feeling which, emerging in the mind of primeval man, forms the starting-point for the entire religious development in history. . . the distinction between such a ‘dread’ and natural fear is not simply one of degree and intensity. The awe or ‘dread’ may indeed be so overwhelmingly great that it seems to penetrate to the very marrow, making the man’s hair bristle and his limbs quake.”

2. The element of “overpoweringness.”

“It will be felt at once that there is yet a further element which must be added, that, namely, of ‘might,’ ‘power,’ ‘absolute overpoweringness.’ We will take this to represent this term. . . ‘majesty’ – the more readily because anyone with a feeling for language must detect a last faint trace of the numinous clinging to the word. . . there is the feeling of one’s own submergence, of being but ‘dust and ashes’ and nothingness. And this forms the numinous raw material for the feeling of religious humility. . . We come upon the ideas, first, of the annihilation of self, and then, as its complement, of the transcendent as the sole and entire reality. These are the characteristic notes of mysticism in all its forms.”

3. The element of ‘energy’ or urgency.

“. . . it everywhere clothes itself in symbolical expressions – vitality, passion, emotional temper, will, force, movement, excitement, activity, impetus. . . up to the idea of the ‘living’ God.”

Otto then analyzes the notion of “mysterium.” He describe two facets of this:

1. The “Wholly Other.”

“We need an expression for the mental reaction peculiar to it; and here, too, only one word seems appropriate. . . ‘stupor.’ Stupor is plainly a different thing from tremor; it signifies blank wonder, an astonishment that strikes us dumb, amazement absolute. Taken, indeed, in its purely natural sense, mysterium would first mean merely a secret or a mystery in the sense of that which is alien to us, uncomprehended and unexplained. . . Taken in the religious sense, that which is ‘mysterious is – to give it perhaps the most striking expression – the ‘wholly other,’ that which is quite beyond the sphere of the usual, the intelligible, and the familiar, which therefore falls quite outside the limits of the ‘canny,’ and is contrasted with it, filling the mind with blank wonder and astonishment.”

2. Fascination.

“. . . it shows itself as something uniquely attractive and fascinating. These two qualities, the daunting and the fascinating, now combine in a strange harmony of contrasts. . . The daemonic-divine object may appear to the mind an object of horror and dread, but at the same time it is no less something that allures with a potent charm, and the creature, who trembles before it, utterly cowed and cast down, has always at the same time the impulse to turn to it, nay even to make it somehow his own. The ‘mystery’ is for him not merely something to be wondered at but something that entrances him; and beside that in it which bewilders and confounds, he feels a something that captivates and transports him with a strange ravishment, rising often enough to the pitch of dizzy intoxication.

At certain points in his book, Otto distinguishes various objects in their ability to provoke the mysterium tremendum. For example, he says:

“. . . this feeling or consciousness of the ‘wholly other’ will attach itself to, or sometimes be indirectly aroused by means of, objects which are already puzzling upon the ‘natural’ plane, or are of a surprising or astounding character; such as extraordinary phenomena or astonishing occurrences or things in inanimate nature, in the animal world, or among men. . . It might be objected that the mysterious is something which is and remains absolutely and invariably beyond our understanding, whereas that which merely eludes our understanding for a time but is perfectly intelligible in principle should be called, not a ‘mystery,’ but merely a ‘problem.’ But this is by no means an adequate account of the matter. The truly ‘mysterious’ object is beyond our apprehension and comprehension, not only because our knowledge has certain irremovable limits, but because in it we come upon something inherently ‘wholly other,’ whose kind and character are incommensurable with our own, and before which we therefore recoil in a wonder that strikes us chill and numb.”

For instance, Otto discusses music:

“Musical feeling is rather (like numinous feeling) something ‘wholly other,’ which, while it affords analogies and here and there will run parallel to the ordinary emotions of life, cannot be made to coincide with them by a detailed point-to-point correspondence.”

Finally, Otto discusses how the mysterium tremendum may be elicited:

In terms of direct means, “. . . it cannot be ‘taught,’ it must be ‘awakened’ from the spirit. And this could not justly be asserted, as it often is, of religion as a whole and in general, for there is very much that can be taught – that is, handed down in concepts and passed on in school instruction. What is incapable of being so handed down is this numinous basis and background to religion, which only can be induced, incited, and aroused.”

Yet, receptivity toward the mysterium tremendum could be facilitated. In addition, indirectly, Otto notes that the sublime may be related to the mysterium tremendum. For instance, he discusses art, particularly architecture, and music as two indirect mechanisms toward this state. Silent or mystical elements of a church service also may be relevant to consider (he provides the examples of the silence of a Quaker service, the low sounds that might be found in a chanting service, or the Eucharist in a Catholic Mass).

The Psychology of a Nazi Extermination Camp Commandant

I just finished the most remarkable book: “Into That Darkness,” by Gitta Sereny. This book is organized around 70 hours of interviews that the author conducted with Franz Stangl, a leader in the Third Reich who worked at the T4 euthanasia program in Berlin and who commanded the Sobibor and Treblinka extermination camps. He was the only Commandant of a camp brought to trial, and ultimately was sentenced to a life sentence in prison.

First, a little background information I learned while reading the book. When most people think about the most horrific aspects of Nazism, they typically think of the concentration camps in which millions of Jews, Roma, political prisoners, and others worked and died. The primary purpose of concentration camps was work, however, and many fortunate individuals survived. Far less attention is given to the Nazi extermination camps, of which there only were four (or five, depending on whether one counts Birkenau, connected with Auschwitz). These camps were built exclusively to kill people, and very few survived. Stangl was the Commandant of two of these, overseeing the deaths of approximately 1,000,000.

There appear to be many reasons why Stangl was involved in such horrors. I was struck by how Stangl appeared to go along with the Nazi plan out of fear of punishment. At every “advancement” in the system, Stangl seemed to speak of his fear for his survival (or his family’s). At the same time, Stangl appeared to be motivated to be effective in carrying out his work, and hoped for promotions. Much of this seemed to be gradual, the “foot-in-the-door” process that often leads people to changes in beliefs and behavior. For instance, a key development in Stangl’s slow moral erosion came when he signed a card signifying that he gave up his allegiance to the Catholic Church (but not to God). Ultimately, it seemed that Stangl started to rationalize his behavior, such as when he said he thought it was okay to euthanize Jews because a Catholic scholar said that the Church didn’t necessarily disagree, that there always has been a debate about euthanasia. Another example of Stangl’s rationalization occurred when he emphasized that he only was the overseer of the camp and that he never was directly involved in killing anyone. He began to operate on two different levels, one with his buddies and at home with his wife and children, and another when he conducted his operations. In fact, Stangl even lost the ability to recognize the Jewish children as people. Generally, he didn’t think of the individuals he killed, but rather the effectiveness of the operations.

Interestingly, much of Stangl’s psychology appeared to be designed by higher authorities. It seemed that many involved in the euthanasia program were given more authority because they were desensitized to suffering at that location. As another example, I was struck by one passage that suggests that the Jews were humiliated publicly in front of the Nazis so that the Nazis would come to dehumanize them.

I long have thought that it might have been easier to overcome the horrors of World War 2, that perhaps if more individuals had resisted, none of this would have happened. However, in reading this book, I started to realize that many individuals involved really seemed to be quite powerless. At least they felt that way. For example, Stangl once commented that:

“If I had sacrificed myself. . . if I had made public what I felt, and had died. . . it would have made no difference. Not an iota. It would all have gone on just the same, as if it and I had never happened.”

In thinking more about this, it seemed that there were several likely candidates for making a significant difference in these crimes. First, those who harbored individuals at risk obviously helped them, although this didn’t change much of the grand scope of what transpired. Second, in this book, a strong case is made that the Pope may have been able to substantially influence the course of events if he had taken a strong, public stand (obviously, he failed in doing so). In fact, Hitler stopped the euthanasia program immediately after a sermon condemning the program was delivered in Rome. Finally, I was interested in the relationship between Stangl and his wife. She is interviewed for the book as well and, when asked hypothetically what she thought might have happened if she had presented an ultimatum to the Commandant to either continue to go along with the Nazis or she and her kids would leave, she thought that he would have stopped (although, significantly, later she said this wasn’t true, perhaps as a rationalization for her failure to do more).

In the end, though, reading this book really left me shaking my head. One particular passage mystifies me. In this passage, one of the guards at Treblinka states:

“A mother jumps down with her baby and calmly looks into a pointing gun-barrel – a moment later we hear the guard who shot them boast to his fellows that he managed to ‘do’ them both with one shot through both their heads.”

I believe that there were social-psychological factors involved in the Holocaust, but ultimately, I think these events speak to the evil that exists in humanity, perhaps even in every individual. As Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn once said, “The line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.” Or, as Origen once stated, “The power of choosing between good and evil is within the reach of all.”

Awe in the Bible

Continuing my recent reflections about awe, I have been fascinated by studying the number of references to awe in the Bible. The word used is not always “awe” itself, but given how I have conceptualized awe previously, I think it would be fair to say that awe is one of the threads that runs through the entire Biblical narrative. For example, there are 53 references to “awe,” 92 to “amazing,” 22 to “astonish,” 38 to “reverence,” and 109 to “wonder.” Related words such as “fear,” “afraid,” and “tremble” also are frequently mentioned in the Bible, and sometimes – but not always – refer to awe experiences.

Moreover, many references to the emotion of awe play a central role in religious and spiritual experience, often appearing in some of the most significant stories in the Bible. For instance, after Jesus rebuked the wind, the disciples were described as being in “fear and amazement” (Luke 8:25). The women who found the tomb empty were described as “trembling and bewildered” (Mark 16:8). Those first filled with the Holy Spirit were described as being “amazed and perplexed” (Acts 2:12). Saul’s companions were “speechless” when Jesus appeared, and it would be fair to say that Paul’s conversion to Christianity involved being awestruck (see Acts 9:1-19).

Perhaps my favorite awe story in the Bible occurs in the book of Genesis. Here, it is written:

“When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, ‘Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.’ He was afraid and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.’ Early the next morning Jacob took the stone he had placed under his head and set it up as a pillar and poured oil on top of it. He called that place Bethel. . . Then Jacob made a vow, saying, ‘If God will be with me and will watch over me on this journey I am taking. . . then the Lord will be my God and this stone that I have set up as a pillar will be God’s house.’” (Genesis 28:16-22).

In addition to providing another example of the kind of context that leads to awe, and another example of how awe plays a central role in religious and spiritual experience, this story suggests that awe has a key function in promoting commitment to a new worldview or lifestyle. This is consistent with other passages in the Bible. For example, Jesus said, “unless you people see signs and wonders. . . you will never believe” (John 4:48). In a related vein, the early New Testament church is described as “living in the fear of the Lord,” resulting in an increase in numbers (Acts 9:31).

In other passages, awe seems to serve different functions. In one passage, God writes through the prophet that “I will astonish these people with wonder after wonder; the wisdom of the wise will perish; the intelligence of the intelligent will vanish” (Isaiah 29:14). Similarly, one of the themes of the Book of Revelation is awe, culminating in a description of praise described as being “like the roar of rushing waters and like loud peals of thunder,” ultimately leading to John’s reaction to fall down and worship (Revelation 19:1-10). Thus, awe seems to promote (or maybe depend upon) humility, submission, and surrender. Another function linked with awe in the Bible appears to be an enhanced sense of well-being. For instance, the psalmist writes, “the whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders; where morning dawns, where evening fades, you call forth songs of joy” (Psalm 65:8). Finally, awe appears to promote love within close relationships, as revealed by the injunction for husbands and wives to “submit to each other out of reverence for Christ” (Ephesians 5:21).

In studying Biblical references to awe, I was struck by what appears to be a distinction between the state of awe and the trait of being receptive to awe. Most of what I mention above refers to the emotion of awe, a powerful and short-term reaction to a particular situation. However, there are many passages in the Bible that teach that people would do well to be generally sensitive to the awesomeness of God. For example, we are told to “be stunned and amazed, blind yourselves and be sightless; be drunk, but not from wine, stagger, but not from beer” (Isaiah 29:9). Again, we are told to “stop and consider God’s wonders” (Job 37:14). In the New Testament, believers are encouraged to “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12). Much of this comes together in the consistent Biblical teaching that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Psalm 110:10; Proverbs 9:10; Proverbs 1:7), the basic idea being that an awesome respect for God is central to realizing what is most important in life.

The Uniqueness of Christian Awe

As I mentioned in my most recent post, it seems that almost all awe experiences come from a limited number of sources, including encounters with the Divine, nature, art, inspiring music, or being in the presence of someone extremely powerful or virtuous. One unresolved question is whether these sources of awe provide equivalent experiences.

C. S. Lewis explicitly writes about the possibility that religious awe is different from other kinds of fear in his book, “The Problem of Pain:”

“Suppose you were told that there was a tiger in the next room: you would know that you were in danger and would probably feel fear. But if you were told ‘There is a ghost in the next room,’ and believed it, you would feel, indeed, what is often called fear, but of a different kind. It would not be based on the knowledge of danger, for no one is primarily afraid of what a ghost may do to him, but of the mere fact that it is a ghost. It is ‘uncanny’ rather than dangerous, and the special kind of fear it excites may be called Dread. With the Uncanny one has reached the fringes of the Numinous. Now suppose that you were told simply ‘There is a mighty spirit in the room’ and believed it. Your feelings would then be even less like the mere fear of danger: but the disturbance would be profound. You would feel wonder and a certain shrinking–described as awe.”

Perhaps this is what Lewis had in mind in another quotation: “There is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious.”

In these quotations, Lewis likely is drawing on his understanding of perhaps the best discussion of religious awe, provided by Rudolph Otto in “The Idea of the Holy.” Otto famously discusses the non-rational (not irrational) aspects of religion, which have to do with encountering Something completely different from anything else we normally encounter in daily life – what Otto and others have called the “Numinous.”

Because he didn’t want encounters with the Divine to lose their distinctness, Otto referred to this mysterious aspect of religion in latin: the “mysterium tremendum.” According to Otto, the mysterium tremendum consists of (1) dread (in that one is coming into direct contact with that which is beyond normal conceptions of approachability, power, urgency, and energy); (2) stupor (“blank wonder, an astonishment that strikes us dumb, amazement absolute”); (3) experiencing the self as if nothing (“I am nothing in the presence of something that is all”); and (4) a sense of unworthiness.

More generally, I think Otto’s “idea of the holy” gets at the literal meaning of “holy:” That which is “set apart” or “distinct.”

These ideas help to clarify for me something that has long been a puzzle: That the Judeo-Christian belief system encourages a “fear of the Lord.” For example, in the beginning of the book of Proverbs, the author writes that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Proverbs 1:7). I think this matches the popular understanding of religion; that is, that religion encourages commitment through fear tactics. Perhaps the use of the word “fear,” however, is confusing, as it is a word that has different meanings, at least in English.

In fact, the most common phrase of the Bible is “fear not.” This phrase appears in the Old Testament and New Testament over 400 times. Of course, there is a good reason for this. A true encounter with God’s majesty provokes awe. However, God is with us, particularly with and through Jesus Christ, in such a way that we need not fear. As it says in 1 John 4:18, “There is no fear in love. Perfect love casts out fear.”

Taken together, then, there is a kind of fear mentioned in the Bible that clearly is foundational for faith: The kind involved in a true awe experience. Then, there is another kind of fear experience that is contrary to faith: The kind that is involved in anxiety and worry about the ways of this world.

Beyond the awe that one may have in the Numinous, however, is an awe for the grace shown by Jesus. Unlike other faith perspectives, in the person of Jesus Christ, there is a story of a God who enters into pain in order to overcome it, who sacrifices for the people who seem to otherwise shrink in response to His glory. This paradox of a God who is so great as to provoke the ultimate awe experience but who is so humble as to take all the pain of the world onto Himself is at the heart of what Christianity really means.

For an example of how I thought about all this in the context of a very powerful awe experience I had a few years ago, please see the following link:

http://thequestforagoodlife.wordpress.com/2009/09/25/782/ [...]

The Conceptualization of Awe

A few weeks ago, my friend and colleague, Dr. Myles Johnson and I published a commentary in the Star Tribune about awe in Minnesota. It can be found here:

http://www.startribune.com/opinion/122197559.html

Since this article was published, Myles and I have received a number of positive reviews from people who read our commentary. This encouraged us to read and discuss awe further. As a result, we’ve been reading books and articles related to awe. For the past few days, we secluded ourselves at his cabin in Northern Minnesota to try to see if we could distill a more fine-tuned understanding of the nature of awe.

This was somewhat of a difficult task, mostly because Myles and I have very different philosophical and religious assumptions. Yet, we found remarkable agreement in discussing awe.

First, we agreed that the meaning of “awe” has changed radically over time. The etymology of “awe” comes from Old English and Old Norse, and literally means “fear” and “dread;” it originally derived from a religious context.

However, in 1757, Edmund Burke, in his book “A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful,” broadened the understanding of the term. He noted that awe also can be experienced when hearing thunder, viewing art, and listening to a symphony. This led people to begin thinking of awe in broader, more positive, terms.

At some point, people started to distinguish between the notions of “awful” and “awesome.” To some, “awful” refers to a reaction in which one encounters a negative awe event or where a potentially awe-inspiring experience cannot be embraced for some reason. In contrast, the word “awesome” originally referred to an experience where one has a positive awe encounter. As Jonathan Haidt writes in “The Happiness Hypothesis,” however, the meaning of “awesome” also has changed relatively recently. Young people, for instance, now use the word “awesome” to convey something akin to “double-plus good.”

Thus, there is a lot of confusion regarding awe. However, true awe may be one of the most powerful and enlightening experiences available to human experience. As Einstein said:

“The most beautiful emotion we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead.”

To begin to better understand this state, Myles and I discussed various kinds of powerful awe experiences. We found that these almost always fell into the domains of religion/spirituality, nature, art, music, and being in the presence of someone virtuous or powerful. Although I believe there may be some differences in how awe may be experienced in these domains, there seems to be a common core. Thus, we tentatively conceptualize awe in the following way.

Awe is a complex emotion consisting of a blend of feelings such as surprise, amazement, confusion, fear, fascination, and reverence. Awe experiences consist of several characteristics, including:

1. Perception of something unexpected that transcends one’s current understanding of the world. It may transcend in power, vastness, time length, ability, or virtue.

2. Complete immersion in the experience.

3. A sense of decreased self-importance.

4. An attempt to resolve the discrepancy between one’s current understanding and what is currently being experienced.

5. After the experience, there is a newfound way of thinking, appreciation, or self-identity.

6. Finally, the experience is remembered easily and vividly.

In future posts, I plan to discuss the interconnection of religion and awe in detail.

In the meantime, it would be extremely helpful to the development of our ideas if readers shared experiences they have had that they believe are true awe experiences. Tell us what happened, how you experienced what happened, and the effects the experience had on you afterward. Please share by commenting here or by sending me an e-mail at andrew.tix@normandale.edu.

Celtic Spirituality

Ever since spending time in Scotland and Ireland a few years ago, I have been intrigued by Celtic spirituality. Recently, I completed reading John O’Donohue’s trilogy on his interpretation of Celtic spirituality in his books “Eternal Echoes,” “Anam Cara,” and “Beauty.” I summarize what I was struck by in these books below. For those interested in a wonderful introduction to O’Donohue’s ideas, check out an interview that he did several years ago for Speaking of Faith:

http://being.publicradio.org/programs/john_odonahue/index.shtml

Much of O’Donohue’s thinking begins with the assumption that humans have a soul that longs to be completed, thus creating the need to be-long. He writes:

“Our hunger to belong is the longing to find a bridge across the distance from isolation to intimacy. Everyone longs for intimacy and dreams of a nest of belonging in which one is embraced, seen, and loved.”

Elsewhere, O’Donohue refers to this long as a desire for beauty. He says:

“The human soul is hungry for beauty; we seek it everywhere – in landscape, music, art, clothes, furniture, gardening, companionship, love, religion, and in ourselves. . . We feel most alive in the presence of the Beautiful for it meets the needs of our soul.”

Much of life, then, becomes about attempts to meet these fundamental needs. People may seek status, achievement, or possessions to help with this, but they likely leave feeling empty. O’Donohue goes further:

“Even when you achieve something that you have worked for over the years, the voice of this longing will often surface and qualify your achievement. When you listen to its whisper, you will realize that there is more than a sense of anti-climax. Even when everything comes together and you have what you want, this unwelcome voice will not be stifled.”

One of the better ways to go about seeking to meet our human needs for belonging is through relationship with other people. In one of my favorite sections of his books, O’Donohue writes:

“The Celtic understanding of friendship finds its inspiration and culmination in the sublime notion of anam cara. . . Anam is the Gaelic word for soul and cara is the word for friend. So anam cara in the Celtic world was the “soul friend.” . . In everyone’s life, there is great need for an anam cara, a soul friend. In this love, you are understood as you are without mask or pretension. The superficial and functional lies and half-truths of social acquaintance fall away, [and] you can be as you really are. . . When you are understood, you are at home.”

And, yet, no matter how beautiful and helpful this kind of friend may be, O’Donohue recognizes that friendship with a person only can meet the need to belong to some extent. No person can fully satisfy our hunger. In fact, as he states:

“This hunger to belong is the echo and reverberation of your invisible and eternal heritage. You are from somewhere else, where you were known, embraced, and sheltered.”

O’Donohue, then, suggests that:

“It is precisely in awakening and exploring this rich and opaque inner landscape that the anam cara experience illuminates the mystery and kindness of the divine. The anam cara is God’s gift. Friendship is the nature of God. The Christian concept of god as Trinity is the most sublime articulation of otherness and intimacy, an eternal inflow of friendship. . . [Jesus] is the secret anam cara of every individual. In friendship with him, we enter the tender beauty and affection of the Trinity. In the embrace of this eternal friendship, we dare to be free.”

Or, as Augustine once suggested, “our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.”

And, so, O’Donohue concludes:

“You are an eternal essence; this is the ancient reason why you are here. To begin to get a glimpse of this essence is to come into harmony with your destiny and with the providence that always minds your days and ways.”

The Fundamental Attribution Error

My wife loves carrot cake more than any other kind of food. To keep it a “special treat,” however, she only allows herself one time per year to eat it. A few years ago, I decided I would surprise my wife by making a carrot cake as part of a celebration for her birthday, which was to take place at her parents’ house the night of her birthday. I bought most of the ingredients and took them to my dad’s house to make the cake and frosting there. I didn’t bring all of the ingredients, though. For example, I didn’t bring any butter because I assumed that my dad would have good butter. The cake looked perfect when it was finished. I brought it to the birthday party and, after dinner, everyone took a piece. I was excited because I had never made a cake from scratch before, and I thought the cake turned out very well. The look on people’s faces when they put the cake in their mouths proved otherwise, however: Complete and utter disgust! It really was the worst cake I had ever tasted. I thought back to what might have happened. I followed the recipe. The cake looked like it turned out. However, I wondered about that butter. Later, I went back to my dad’s house and checked it out. Lo and behold, the butter was full of mold inside! This was how I personally explained my cake failure. Interestingly, however, my in-laws declared that I might better leave the baking to someone else.

One of the most important concepts in the field of Social Psychology is the “fundamental attribution error,” the tendency for observers of others’ behavior to underestimate the impact of the situation and to overestimate the role of personal factors. The key insight that comes from an understanding of the fundamental attribution error is that it’s easier to understand the role of the situation in our own lives because we can observe that situation influencing us. However, when observing others, we notice the persons more than the situations in their lives, and therefore explain their behavior more in terms of their dispositions than situations. This is what happened in my carrot cake story. I recognized the role of the bad butter (a situational factor); my in-laws attributed the cake failure to my poor baking ability (a personal factor).

Almost all of the time, both situational and personal factors explain behavior. However, the fundamental attribution error suggests that we often are selective about what factors we highlight in our minds when we explain behavior. This often causes problems. For example, many students say that they are struggling in school because they can’t study very much, or very well, because of all that they have going on in their lives (a situational factor). However, when asked to explain why a friend is struggling in school, they quickly point out controllable factors such as a lack of time management, lack of self-discipline, and lack of personal responsibility (personal factors). Of course, this mismatch is completely hypocritical. When students overlook how they may exercise control over their academic lives, they fail to consider factors that may lead to improvement. When students attribute others’ difficulties to factors within their control, they necessarily judge and condemn them, making others feel worse and distancing themselves interpersonally in the process.

In these ways, a knowledge of the fundamental attribution error helps individuals to be more effective, humble, and interpersonally gracious to others.

Treatment of Psychological Diseases and Disorders

According to the most recent Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV), there are nearly 400 different psychological disorders. Some of these disorders fit the definition of “disease,” a problem that impairs functioning and that mostly stems from biological causes.  Common examples include bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Other “disorders” impair functioning but are determined by a more diverse array of causes, some of which are psychological and social / cultural in nature. In this sense, these conditions are not true “diseases.” Examples include anxiety disorders, depression, eating disorders, and substance use disorders.

The distinction between “diseases” and “disorders” helps to suggest appropriate treatments. In general, diseases require biological intervention. Research suggests, for example, that medication is very successful in helping individuals to manage symptoms that accompany bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Although it may encourage them to take their medication regularly, manage stress effectively, and help with emotional struggles, research shows that psychotherapy generally does not help people overcome the symptoms of these diseases without biological intervention.

Biological treatments also may help people with disorders in some cases. For example, in one of the largest and most rigorous studies ever conducted on the treatment of clinical depression, researchers in the late 1980s found that antidepressant medication helped manage the symptoms of severe depression (which I would define as involving significant suicidal thinking, that often recurs, or that is chronic) more than other treatment options, at least during the time span in which individuals were taking the medicine.

On the other hand, decades of carefully controlled clinical studies have shown that medication often is not the best treatment for many disorders. For instance, a recent meta-analysis found that antidepressants generally perform no better than a sugar pill in the treatment of depression that is mild or moderate in severity (read more at http://jama.ama-assn.org/cgi/content/short/303/1/47?home). Often times, any symptom relief that medication provides ends when individuals stop taking them.

Increasingly, I also see researchers skeptical of the underlying pharmaceutical claim that “chemical imbalances” of serotonin explain why some people struggle with emotional disorders. Apparently, some of the best evidence that there is a chemical imbalance of serotonin involved in disorders such as depression is that antidepressant medications sometimes help. However, this is akin to saying that if Tylonol sometimes helps you overcome a headache, then headaches must be caused by a “Tylonol imbalance.” This doesn’t necessarily take away from the fact that antidepressant medications can be helpful in some circumstances, but it does suggest, at least, that the mechanisms by which antidepressants sometimes work are in question by many in the scientific community.

Approximately 5% of all American men and approximately 10% of all American women are taking an antidepressant medication for some reason. Many of these individuals suffer from significant side effects from the medication. Others believe that they are being helped by the medicine and thus do not work to resolve the underlying issues that are at the “root” of the problem. In fact, much of the therapeutic effect of medicine likely stems from psychological factors such as cathartic release of telling their doctor about their problems, the relationship between them and their doctor, or the faith or hope they experience from the treatment. Of course, there are other ways to treat psychological disorders that may provide these factors without needing to take a pharmacological substance.

The best treatment option for many people who struggle with disorders is psychotherapy. Several forms of psychotherapy – cognitive therapy, behavioral therapy, interpersonal therapy, and psychodynamic therapy – have been found to successfully treat many disorders, including disorders with severe symptoms.  Furthermore, compared with the effects of medication, psychotherapy often seems to provide better treatment in the long-term. Perhaps one of the reasons why psychotherapy is so helpful in many cases is that it gets at the “root” causes of people’s problems. Furthermore, although psychotherapy seems unrelated to biology, research shows that biological changes happen through this treatment just like it does when medication is helpful.

Available research suggests that there is not necessarily one kind of psychotherapy that is better than the rest (the main exception being that exposure based treatments seem to work better than all other treatments for anxiety disorders). Rather, it seems that there are certain “common factors” involved in good treatment, including a trusting relationship with a treatment provider, client factors such as motivation to follow suggestions, and the faith and hope that the treatment will help. Based on this, individuals struggling with depression would do well to seek a referral to a good therapist and “try them out” to see how they “click” with them. Usually, someone can tell after the first session whether they like the therapist. If the first therapist one tries doesn’t work out, another provider might work better.

There also are other activities that might help people with disorders. Some of these might be encouraged by a therapist, and include working through self-help materials (see David Burns’ books “Feeling Good” and “When Panic Attacs” for books shown to work in comparative research), regular aerobic exercise, keeping an emotions journal in which one writes about difficult emotions, keeping a gratitude journal in which one records what one is most thankful for, engaging in pleasurable activities, talking with a trusted friend about one’s problems, performing random acts of kindness, getting lost in nature, and managing stress through effective coping techniques. Although these kinds of activities haven’t really been established as successful treatments in themselves, they are linked with mood in various ways. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if many of these lifestyle-based approaches someday are shown to perform at least as well as – if not better than – conventional treatments available today.

In conclusion, people struggling with a mental illness should know that there is hope. Almost all conditions can be managed effectively through the right combination of treatment options. Many disorders can be overcome long-term without the use of medicine. Probably the most difficult step in treatment is acknowledging that you have a problem and taking the first step to seek help. However, with this humility and courage, people can experience relief and improvement.

The Experience of Mental Illness

Of all the various topics studied by psychologists, it seems that the topic that generates the most fascination in people concerns mental illness. In particular, many people are fascinated by rare psychological conditions such as schizophrenia, dissociative identity disorder, and borderline personality disorder. This is understandable. In fact, researchers have found that perceived novelty is perhaps the most important precipitator of the emotion of interest. Thankfully, for some people, mental illness is novel.

Unfortunately, however, mental illness is not novel for many individuals in our society. Almost half of the adults in the United States will meet the criteria for a mental illness at some point in their lives. Approximately 5% of American adults suffer from a serious mental illness that results in substantial life impairment in one or more major life activities. For these individuals, mental illness often is the most common thread that ties together daily experience. And, of course, the effects of mental illness do not stop with the ones afflicted. Mental illness has a major impact on the loved ones of those who are diagnosed as well.

At the heart of the experience of mental illness is the experience of suffering. Mental illness often involves painful feelings of sadness, anxiety, anger, embarrassment, and shame. It often misrepresents that which is true in the world. It often fractures friendships and family relationships. It often hurts people.

The experience of mental illness is more complex than this, however. At the same time that they struggle, many people with mental illness live good lives. They experience joy. They do good for others.

In fact, in many ways, the lives of those who are mentally ill may not be that novel after all. Several years ago, when I used to teach Abnormal Psychology more often than I do now, I encouraged students to volunteer with various mental health agencies to fulfill the requirements for a course project. As a part of this, students often would “hang out” with people who were diagnosed with serious mental illnesses – making cookies with them, playing games, going for walks, etc. Almost universally, the students who participated in this project reported being surprised at how easily they became friends with their appointed person and how often the mentally ill person seemed “normal.” In fact, almost all of the time, they reported, you couldn’t guess that the person was diagnosed with a serious mental illness unless someone told you.

In some ways, then, the experience of mental illness definitely is different. It carries an additional burden. It often involves extreme suffering and pain. On the other hand, individuals with mental illness show the same pattern of struggle and success that all people show. They have bad days and good days. They have areas of weaknesses and they are able to do great things.

People with mental illness are people – just like you and I. No insight about mental illness is more important than this.