Keeping Faith, Externalizing Belief: The Political and Therapeutic Significance of Narrative Therapy in a Post-Secular Era. more


 
 Keeping
Faith,
Externalizing
Belief:

The
Political
and
Therapeutic
Significance
of
 Narrative
Therapy
in
a
Post‐Secular
Era.
 
 
 by
 
 
 Leland
Ruel
Maerz
 
 Thesis
 submitted
in
partial
fulfillment
of
the
requirements
for
 the
Degree
of
Master
of
Education
(Counselling
)
 
 Acadia
University
 Spring
Convocation
2011
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ©
by
Leland
Ruel
Maerz,
2011
 Running
Head:
KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 
 ii
 This
thesis
by
Leland
Ruel
Maerz
was
defended
successfully
in
an
oral
examination
 on
April
4th,
2011.
 
 The
examining
committee
for
the
thesis
was:
 
 ________________________
 Dr.
Anna
Migliarisi,
Chair
 
 ________________________
 Dr.
Jacque
Goulet,
External
Reader

 
 ________________________
 Dr.
Ron
Lehr,
Internal
Reader


 
 _________________________
 
 Dr.
John
Sumarah,
Supervisor


 
 _________________________
 Dr.
David
Reid,
Head/Director
 
 
 This
thesis
is
accepted
in
its
present
form
by
the
Division
of
Research
and
Graduate
 Studies
as
satisfying
the
thesis
requirements
for
the
degree
Master
of
Education
 (Counselling).
 
 
 …………………………………………. KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 
 This
thesis
by
Leland
Ruel
Maerz
was
defended
successfully
in
an
oral
examination
 on
April
4th,
2011.
 
 The
examining
committee
for
the
thesis
was:
 
 
 Dr.
Anna
Migliarisi,
Chair
 
 Dr.
Jacque
Goulet,
External
Reader
 
 Dr.
Ron
Lehr,
Internal
Reader
 
 Dr.
John
Sumarah,
Supervisor

 
 Dr.

David
Reid,
Head/Director

 
 
 
 
 
 This
thesis
is
accepted
in
its
present
form
by
the
Division
of
Research
and
Graduate
 Studies
as
satisfying
the
thesis
requirements
for
the
degree
Master
of
Education
 (Counselling).
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 
 iii
 I,
Leland
Ruel
Maerz,
grant
permission
to
the
University
Librarian
at
Acadia
 University
to
reproduce,
loan
or
distribute
copies
of
my
thesis
in
microform,
paper
 or
electronic
formats
on
a
non‐profit
basis.
I,
however,
retain
the
copyright
in
my
 thesis.
 
 
 
 
 
 ______________________________
 












































Author
 
 ______________________________
 
















































Supervisor
 
 ______________________________
 












































Date

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Table
of
Contents
 
 iv
 Abstract…………………………………………………………………………………………………...…….......vi
 Acknowledgements………………………………..………………………………………………………….vii
 Introduction…………………………………………………...…………………………………………………...1
 Methodology………………………………………………………...……………………………………………..6
 Overview…………………………………………………………………...………………………………………..9
 
 PART
I:

A
Critique
of
Modern
Secular
Theory…………………………...………………………..11
 
Emergence
of
the
Immanent
Frame:
 
Secularism’s
ironic
relation
to
religion……………………………...…………………….11
 
 Subtraction
Stories:

 How
modern
secularism
delegitimizes
religion
and
absolutizes
science…....16
 
 The
Secular
Burqa:

 How
modern
systems
of
knowledge
suppress
religious
expressions
of
 identity.…...………………………………………………………......………………………………...21
 
 The
Conceits
of
Secularism:

 Exposing
the
fallacy
of
secular
neutrality.…….…………………………………..……...24
 
 Towards
a
New
Social
Imaginary:

 How
the
conditions
for
a
post‐secular
society
are
formed………………..…….…28
 
 An
Ethos
of
Engagement:

 The
politics
of
a
more
rigorous
pluralism………………..…………………………….…32
 
 Fugitive
Abundance:

 How
to
navigate
between
objectivism
and
relativism
in
public
discourse….37
 
 PART
II:

The
New
Conditions
of
Belief
for
Religion
and
Spirituality………...…….…….38
 Death
of
the
Death
of
God:

 Post‐modernity
and
the
proliferation
of
religious
belief………………..………….38
 
 Spiritual
But
Not
Religious:

 The
difficulty
of
differentiating
between
religion
and
spirituality……..……....41

 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 v
 The
Sacred
and
the
Secular:

 The
role
of
religion
and
spirituality
in
a
post‐secular
ethos………………...….…48
 
 Faith
Development:

 The
difficulty
of
attempting
to
understand
spiritual
change……………...………51
 
 Autoethnographic
Accounts………………………..……………………………………………………..58
 Narrative
Letter
A…………..….…………………………………………………………………...59
 
 Narrative
Letter
B……….…………………………………………………………..……………...64
 PART
III:
The
Significance
of
Narrative
Therapy
as
a
Post‐Secular
Practice……...…..69
 Relational
Spirituality:
 Integrating
religion
and
spirituality
into
professional
practice…….…..……….70
 
 Theory
of
Narrative
Therapy:

 Connecting
therapy
to
post‐structuralism
and
to
the
post‐secular………...…..75
 
 Praxis
of
Narrative
Therapy:

 The
meaning
and
significance
of
de‐centered
relating…………..………………….81
 
 Conversational
Maps:

 Moving
from
what
is
familiar
to
what
is
possible……………...………………………86
 
 Externalizing
Conversations:

 The
process
of
deconstructing
social
discourses…………………...…………….……88
 
 Religious
Fundamentalism:

 The
challenge
of
addressing
modern
anti‐modernism……………..……………….95
 From
Therapy
to
Politics
(and
back
again):

 Bridging
the
modern
with
the
post‐modern………………………………………...…102
 
 Who
is
this
‘I’
?

 The
limitations
of
and
possibilities
for
narrative
therapy
from
a
 phenomenological
perspective………………………………...…………………………....108
 
 
 Summary
&
Conclusion…………………………………………………..……………………..……...…113
 References…………………………………………………..……………………..………………………...…121
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Abstract
 
 In
confusing
the
separation
of
church
and
state
with
the
triumph
of
science
and
 reason
over
religion
and
faith,
the
modern
secular
project
has
produced
a
 pressured
situation
where
religious
values
and
beliefs
are
perceived
to
be
 inappropriate
and
inadequate
resources
for
addressing
problems
in
the
public
 sphere.
Using
autoethnographic
accounts,
as
well
as
current
events
and
recent
 vi
 research
from
a
variety
of
disciplines,
this
work
will
express
the
need
for
a
revised
 secularity
—a
post
secular
era—
in
which
faith
and
belief
are
not
exempted
from
 public
‘places’
but
rather,
where
there
is
discursive
‘space’
for
both
religious
and
 nonreligious
options
to
be
freely
sought.

While
there
is
every
indication
in
research
 and
in
popular
opinion
that
such
change
is
needed,
there
is
little
being
written
or
 said
about
the
practices
that
might
make
such
change
possible.
 The
theory
and
practice
of
narrative
therapy
will
be
presented
as
not
only
 therapeutically
significant
in
addressing
religion
and
spirituality
in
counselling
but
 also
politically
influential
in
its
contribution
to
a
post‐secular
manner
of
 engagement.


The
therapeutic
process
and
relationship
in
narrative
therapy
are
 built
on
practices
that
reveal
the
implicit
influence
of
societal
discourses
upon
the
 lives
of
people
seeking
help
with
their
problems.

Religion
and
spirituality
can
be
 seen
as
both
constraining
of,
and
a
potential
resource
toward,
a
more
preferred
 experience
of
life.
 
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Acknowledgements
 
 
 vii
 I
would
like
to
extend
heartfelt
gratitude
to
Alison,
my
advisors
John
Sumarah
and
 Ron
Lehr,
to
Tod
Augusta‐Scott
and
to
all
my
colleagues,
friends
and
family.


 
 Once more, before I set out again And look down the road ahead, In my loneliness I raise my hands To you, to whom I am fleeing, To whom, in the deepest depths of my heart I have solemnly raised altars, So that always Your voice might call me again. On those altars burns, graven deep, The word: "To the Unknown God". I am his, even if I have run with the Blasphemers to this very hour; I am his--and I feel the snares That drag me down in the struggle And, even if I would flee, Still force me into his service. I will to know you, Unknown One, Gripping me in the depths of my soul, Blasting through my life like a storm, You incomprehensible One, yet akin to me, I will to know you, even to serve you. Friedrich Nietzsche.1867 
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 1
 Keeping
Faith,
Externalizing
Belief:

The
Political
and
Therapeutic
Significance
of
 Narrative
Therapy
in
a
Post‐Secular
Era.
 
 Post
9/11
academic
and
political
discourses
have
contributed
to
a
notable
 rise
in
critical
reflection
toward
existing
forms
of
western
secularity

—particularly
 with
respect
to
the
ways
they
situate
the
role
of
religious
belief
in
the
public
sphere.
 Events
showcased
in
the
mainstream
media
in
the
later
part
of
this
decade
further
 punctuate
the
cultural,
political
and
moral
tensions
created
by
this
issue.

Whether
 it
be
over
what
theory
of
origins
are
to
be
taught
in
schools,
the
appropriateness
of
 placing
atheistic
messages
on
city
buses,
or
if
Muslim
women
should
have
the
 choice
to
conceal
their
face

—how
‘faith’
manifests
its
influence
publically
remains
 as
salient
a
concern
as
ever.


 Recall
the
heated
rhetorical
clashes
over
the
proposed
mosque
near
Ground
 Zero.

Beliefs
about
religions
fused
with
political
agendas
to
produce
contrasting
 claims
about
the
meaning
and
purpose
of
the
project.

The
straightforward
legal
 permissions
for
building
(and
the
fact
that
Muslims
had
already
been
gathering
 there
for
prayer)
proved
to
be
inadequate
for
settling
the
issue.

Is
a
Muslim
 sponsored
interfaith
center
a
declaration
of
peaceful
Islamic
values
and
an
emblem
 of
the
American
commitment
to
religious
tolerance
protected
under
the
 constitution?

Or,
is
building
an
Islamic
place
of
worship
in
that
particular
location
a
 deliberate
provocation
to
the
surviving
victims
of

9\11
and
a
symbolic
monument
 to
the
radical
Muslim
terrorists
who
commit
such
acts?


Very
little
discursive
 ‘space’
was
given
for
reflecting
publically
on
the
values
and
beliefs
that
formed
the
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 context
of
the
debate.

Each
side
presented
their
views
as
if
they
should
be
self‐ evident.
What
new
possible
positions
and
options
could
have
been
voiced?

For
 example,
is
it
possible
that
one
might
object
to
the
building
project
out
of
respect
 for
the
surviving
victim’s
who
oppose
it
and
maintain
a
belief
in
the
right
for
 2
 Muslims
to
worship
freely?
Alternatively,
could
one
consent
to
the
building
project
 and
maintain
sensitivity
for
the
surviving
victim’s
who
oppose
it?
 Tracking
one’s
own
reactions
to
the
dichotomizing
narratives
bolstered
by
 the
media
it
is
easy
to
feel
the
pressure
that
the
secular
division
between
public
and
 private
opinion
has
created.

Such
issues
demonstrate
that
the
smoking
battlefields
 of
the
current
culture
wars
in
North
America
do
much
more
than
reveal
the
paradox
 of
free
speech
and
expression.

Rather,
they
successfully
challenge
as
too
careless
an
 explanation,
the
pronouncement
by
much
of
the
modern
‘intelligencia’
—that
 science
and
reason,
left
unfettered,
would
erode
away
the
influence
of
religious
 belief
and
conviction.

 Secularism
it
turns
out
is
not
(and
never
was)
meant
to
produce
an
‘a‐ religious’
public
and
move
it
further
towards
a
functional
pluralist
society.

It
is
 rather,
“a
particular
view”
says
Hunter
Baker,
“of
how
religion
and
politics
should
 interact
(or
not
interact)
and
has
the
tendency
to
please
one
segment
of
the
 population
while
alienating
others”
(2009,
p.
129).

Philosophers,
sociologists,
 anthropologists
and
psychologists
of
the
21st
century
have
thus
had
to
adjust
to,
or
 advance
from
(even
if
unenthusiastically),
recognizing
the
failure
of
modern
secular
 theory
to
account
for
the
marked
resilience
of
religious
belief,
and
come
to
terms
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 3
 with
the
rich
sources
of
morality
that
religious
culture
produces
(Abeysekara,
2008;
 Armstrong,
2009;
Asad,
2003;
Connolly,
1999;
De
Vries
&
Sullivan,
2006;
Habermas,
 2006;
Hood,
2008;
Taylor,
2007;
Warner,
Vanantwerpen,
&
Calhoun,
2010).


 While
the
debate
to
refine
western
secular
theory
stumbles
awkwardly
 along
the
discourse
of
religion
and
superstition
versus
science
and
reason,
new
 forms
of
religion
and
spirituality
are
emerging.

Even
in
the
face
of
declining
 numbers
of
attendance
in
the
traditional
mainline
religious
institutions
and
the
 largely
successful
campaigns
for
atheistic
scientism,
there
is
statistical
credibility
 being
given
to
the
growing
suspicion
that
religious
experience
and
belief
is
no
 longer
expected
to
become
obsolete.

Advances
in
communications
technology
and
 the
proliferation
of
knowledge
have
altered
how
individuals
make
choices
about
 what
is
worth
knowing
and
believing.

One’s
‘religious
orientation’
is
becoming
a
 highly
individualized
process.

The
influence
and
role
of
the
traditional
pastor
and
 priest
has
been
altered
in
this
‘diaspora’
of
personalized
religious\a‐religious
 options.

This
has
also
led
to
a
shift
in
how
people
understand
and
practice
 ‘spirituality’.

The
now
common
phrase
“I
am
spiritual
not
religious”
typifies
the
 new
peculiarities
which
are
arising
from
this
change.


 
 Just
as
there
is
a
progressing
distinction
between
the
religious
and
the
 spiritual
there
seems
also
an
eroding
one
between
what
is
tacitly
understood
to
be
 spiritual
and
psychological
health.

The
shift
towards
‘integral’
perspectives
and
 practice
is
being
encouraged
but
becomes
immediately
problematic
when
placed
in
 the
conceptual
framework
of
modern
secular
assumptions.

Current
perceptions
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 4
 about
the
function
and
place
of
religious
experience
and
belief
in
therapy
are
out
of
 step
with
private
attitudes.

 In
my
experience,
matters
have
been
made
worse
by
the
counselling
office
 being
viewed
as
a
place
where
faith
must
be
either
preserved
and\or
protected
(as
 is
often
the
case
in
private
religious
institutions)
or
suspended
and\or
‘neutralized’
 (as
is
often
the
case
in
many
‘secular’
institutions).

Whereas
in
the
areas
of
 sexuality
and
health
there
is
emerging
accepted
ways
of
discussing
publically
what
 may
be
harmful
and
healthy
choices
and
attitudes,
the
area
of
religion
and
 spiritually
is
still
contentious.

The
ways
religious
beliefs
are
chosen
and
held
are
 not
often
explicitly
explored
as
an
aspect
of
a
person’s
psychological
well‐being
 (Carlson
&
Erickson,
2000;
Hill
&
Pargament,
2003;
Plumb,
2011).

I
know
of
few
 social
workers,
educators
and
therapists
employed
in
public
institutions,
who
 intentionally
invite
conversations
on
how
their
client’s
choice
and
hold
on
religious
 beliefs
affect
their
relationship
with
themselves
and
others.

Furthermore,
I
have
 experienced
persons
divulging
late
in
therapy
that
they
have
religious
experiences
 and
beliefs.

While
these
often
give
crucial
insight
into
a
person’s
potential
agency
 and
shifting
identity
conclusions,
many
report
feeling
that
their
beliefs
were
not
 appropriate
to
share
outside
of
the
privacy
of
their
religious
community.

 The
reasons
for
the
aforementioned
hesitation
among
professionals
and
 clients
are
of
crucial
significance
if
there
can
be
any
imagination
for
whether
and
 how
religious
belief
and
experience
can
be
positively
influential
(and
negatively
 impacting)
in
public
society
as
well
as
towards
the
well
being
of
the
individual.

My
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 own
experience
coming
out
from
an
upbringing
influenced
by
conservative
 5
 evangelical
Christianity,
working
and
living
internationally
as
a
pastor
and
teacher,
 and
now
as
a
counselling
therapist
confirm
the
need
for
this
inquiry.

I
have
 discovered
that
there
are
options
beyond
the
pressures
of
secular
and
religious
 conformity
and
these
have
informed
my
curiosity
of
how
professionals
in
 educational
and
therapeutic
settings
might
influence
the
emergent
practices
of
 what
has
been
called
the
post‐secular
era.


 It
is
therefore,
in
the
interests
of
this
paper
to
investigate
the
reasons
that
 are
making
the
move
beyond
modern
secularity
appealing
and
perhaps
necessary.

I
 will
explore
how
modern
therapy
has
advanced
some
of
the
most
harmful
and
 constraining
of
modern
secular
assumptions
as
well
as
how
the
therapeutic
 relationship
can
help
generate
politically
respectful,
culturally‐sensitive
and
 professionally‐safe
conversations
for
addressing
the
role
of
faith
and
belief
in
 psychological
and
spiritual
well‐being.

There
will
also
be
discussion
of
the
ways
 that
therapists
can
effectively
address
religious
and
anti‐religious
fundamentalism.


 The
objectives
of
this
paper
will
be
as
follows.

First:
To
survey
how
 perspectives
and
critiques
of
modern
secular
theory
is
changing
attitudes
towards
 the
role
of
religion
in
the
public
sphere.

Second:
To
review
and
analyze
the
ways
 that
spirituality
and
religion
are
being
conceptualized
in
light
of
secular
pressures
 and
influences.

Third:
Advance
and
explore
the
significance
of
narrative
therapy
as
 a
post‐secular
practice.


 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 
The
central
research
question
is:

How
can
narrative
therapy
be
a
post­ secular
practice
that
addresses
religion
and
spirituality
in
both
 therapeutically
and
politically
significant
ways?

 Methodology
 
 The
research
question
will
be
approached
qualitatively
through
an
 6
 interdisciplinary
theoretical
inquiry
interlaced
with
an
analytical
autoethnographic
 account
of
my
experiences
as
a
counseling
therapist.


The
reasoning
for
such
an
 approach
will
be
described
here
as
congruently
situated
within
a
chosen
theoretical
 disposition
and
with
the
objectives
of
the
research.


 
 Roles
for
religion
and
spirituality
in
society
are
being
increasingly
 researched
outside
of
the
traditionally
designated
fields
of
religious
 studies\education,
theology,
and
pastoral
counselling.

The
methods
and
 conclusions
of
such
study
vary
(due
in
part
to
the
different
theoretical
paradigms
 guiding
inquiry)
and
consequently
there
seems
little
attempt
to
creatively
‘cross
 pollinate’
findings
and
insight.

This
paper
will
bring
together
some
of
these
 findings
and
insights
through
a
selective
interdisciplinary
investigation.

 
 Of
specific
interest
to
this
work
will
be
those
insights
and
ideas
that
bear
the
 philosophical
influence
of
social
constructionism
and
post‐structuralism,
especially
 as
these
theoretical
paradigms
seem
also
to
be
provoking
much
of
the
current
 discourses
that
are
of
interest
to
the
topic
of
religion
and
spirituality.

The
 epistemology
of
constructionism
–as
a
rejection
of
positivist\rationalist
theories‐
 begins
with
the
assertion
that
nothing
can
represent
a
neutral
perspective
and
that
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 nothing
is
known
before
consciousness
shapes
it
into
something
perceivable
 (Hacking,
1999;
Kincheloe,
2005).

What
this
implies
for
this
research
is
the
 operating
assumption
that
the
relationship
between
the
knower
and
the
known
 gives
rise
to
what
we
call
‘reality’
and
consequently
that
the
‘world’
as
well
as
the
 7
 knower’s
within
it
are
(at
least
in
part)
constructed
socially
(Gergen,
2001).

To
this
 extent
I
will
be
taking
a
critical
position
towards
both
the
extreme
realist
and
 antirealist
perspectives.

This
will
be
shown
to
be
a
particularly
salient
stance
for
 exploring
the
complexities
that
religious
experience
and
belief
bring
to
the
 therapeutic
relationship
and
process.
 
 In
keeping
with
the
theoretical
assumptions
described
above
I
will
also
be
 weaving
aspects
of
my
own
life
story
into
the
research
using
an
autoenthnographic
 method
(Anderson,
2006;
Chang,
2008;
Ellis
&
Bochner,
2005;
Etherington,
2004;
 Holt,
2008;
Sparkes,
2002).
This
use
of
personal
experience
and
story
is
not
only
 meant
to
function
as
evocative
of
the
thesis
but
rather
a
means
by
which
the
 research
question
can
be
further
illustrated
and
analyzed.

 [Auto]ethnographers‐as‐authors
frame
their
accounts
with
personal
reflexive
 views
of
the
self.
Their
ethnographic
data
are
situated
within
their
personal
 experience
and
sense
making.
They
themselves
form
part
of
the
 representational
processes
in
which
they
are
engaging
and
are
part
of
the
story
 they
are
telling.
(Anderson,
2006;
Atkinson,
Coffey,
&
Delamont,
1999)
 
 
Accounts
of
the
tensions
I
have
experienced
in
evolving
and
integrating
 religious
beliefs
and
values
into
both
my
personal
and
professional
life
will
be
 delivered
in
the
form
of
‘narrative
letters’.


Instead
of
recounting
my
own
 biography
in
written
first
person
form
I
will
be
interviewed
by
a
counselling
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 therapist
who
will
then
recount
and
reflect
on
my
account
through
two
written
 letters.

Narrative
letters,
as
a
practice
developed
and
used
within
narrative
 therapy,
provide
a
medium
for
reflecting
further
on
the
content
of
a
person’s
 8
 ‘telling’
of
their
life.

They
exemplify
the
tension
between
the
ethic
of
transparency
 and
‘de‐centeredness’
unique
to
narrative
therapists
and
to
the
collaborative
nature
 of
narrative
therapy
(White
&
Epston,
1990).
 
This
way
of
engaging
the
research
topic
seems
appropriate
for
the
objectives
of
 this
work
given
that
narrative
therapy
shares
with
autoethnographic
forms
of
 research
the
practice
of

“confront[ing]
dominant
forms
of
representation
and
 power
in
an
attempt
to
reclaim,
through
self‐reflective
response,
representational
 spaces
that
have
marginalized
those…
at
the
borders"
(Tierney,
1998,
p.
66).

 Furthermore,
the
self‐narratives
of
analytic
autoethnography
is
said
to
be
suited
to
 the
researcher
seeking
to
“operationalise
the
notion
of
critical
consciousness
within
 researchers
and
practitioners”
(McIlveen,
2008,
p.
1),
and
“develop
and
refine
 generalized
theoretical
understandings
of
social
processes”

(Anderson,
2006,
p.
 385).

With
the
use
of
narrative
letters
I
hope
to
further
enhance
this
critical
 consciousness
by
allowing
my
story
(saturated
as
it
is
with
its
own
preconceptions)
 to
be
further
questioned
and
processed.

In
doing
so
I
hope
also
to
provide
an
 example
of
the
type
of
therapeutic
relationship
and
questioning
used
in
narrative
 therapy.

In
this
way
the
letters
intend
to
provide
additional
theoretical
integrity
to
 the
research
but
also
illustrate
the
type
of
practices
the
research
is
endorsing.



 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Overview
 The
conceptual
framework
for
this
research
has
the
paper
broken
into
three
 9
 main
parts.
In
Part
I
the
focus
will
be
placed
on
a
critical
appraisal
of
secular
theory.
 I
will
argue
mainly
through
the
work
of
Charles
Taylor
and
William
Connelly
that
 modern
secularism
has
confused
the
separation
of
church
and
state
with
the
 fallacious
idea
that
their
separation
must
follow
the
natural
decline
of
faith
and
 religion
to
the
powers
of
reason
and
science.

It
will
be
shown
that
secularity
was
a
 concept
that
was
conceived
and
developed
within
Christendom,
and
that
secularism
 remains
today
a
value\belief
system
with
close
ties
to
religious
values.

The
notion
 of
a
neutral
public
sphere
is
thus
unattainable.

The
‘privatization’
of
religion
has
 become
a
disingenuous
form
of
‘knowledge
control’
creating
the
ironic
and
 pressured
conditions
upon
which
secular
society
is
prevented
from
authentic
 pluralistic
engagement.

The
role
of
religious
values
and
belief
upon
moral
decision‐ making,
it
will
be
concluded,
needs
to
find
a
way
back
into
public
political
discourse.
 This
return
I
will
refer
to
as
being
post‐secular.

 In
Part
II
the
reciprocal
effect
of
contemporary
secularism
on
religion
will
be
 explored.

The
demands
for
either
secular
or
religious
conformity
that
have
resulted
 from
the
relegation
of
religious
belief
to
the
private
sphere
will
be
shown
to
have
 given
rise
to
a
distinction
between
religion
and
spirituality.

Renewed
descriptions
 for
these
terms
will
be
mentioned
and
the
advantages
and
limitations
of
‘the
 spiritual
but
not
religious’
discourse
will
be
analyzed
in
light
of
current
psychology
 of
religion
research.

A
key
feature
of
Part
II
will
be
to
draw
a
connection
between
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 post‐modernism
and
the
post‐secular
with
regard
to
shifting
attitudes
towards
 religion
and
secularity.
Research
and
theory
that
attempts
to
understand
these
 shifts,
I
will
argue,
benefit
from
a
post‐structural
appraisal.


 Bridging
Parts
I
and
II,
to
Part
III
will
be
the
autoethnographic
accounts
 mentioned
above.
 Part
III
will
place
attention
on
therapy
and
the
challenges
of
addressing
and
 integrating
religion
and
spirituality
in
counselling.

Modern
therapy
will
be
 10
 scrutinized
as
a
key
ally
in
the
pursuit
to
purge
religion
and
spirituality
from
public
 consciousness.

Narrative
therapy
however,
will
be
introduced
as
a
theory
and
 practice
born
out
of
post‐modern
perspectives
and
therefore
in
critical
tension
with
 the
modern
structuralism
(and
secularism)
that
has
dominated
modern
therapy.

 From
the
work
and
thought
of
Michael
White
and
David
Epston
I
will
describe
the
 distinctive
ways
that
narrative
therapy
approaches
the
therapeutic
relationship
and
 addresses
problems
in
the
lives
of
people.

Central
to
this
approach
is
the
two‐way
 (collaborative)
account
of
the
therapeutic
relationship
and
the
‘conversational
 maps’
developed
to
guide
the
therapy
process.


 
The
theory
and
practice
of
narrative
therapy
will
be
presented
as
not
only
 therapeutically
significant
in
addressing
religion
and
spirituality
in
counselling
but
 also
politically
influential
in
its
contribution
to
a
post‐secular
manner
of
 engagement.


Germane
to
the
therapy
process
and
relationship
in
narrative
therapy
 are
lines
of
questioning
that
reveal
the
implicit
influence
of
societal
discourses
upon
 the
lives
of
people
seeking
help
with
their
problems.

Religion
and
spirituality
can
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 11
 be
seen
as
both
constraining
of
and,
a
potential
resource
toward,
a
more
preferred
 experience
of
life.

Finally,
some
of
the
possible
limitations
of
narrative
therapy
as
a
 post‐secular
practice
will
be
investigated
in
light
of
the
challenges
of
religious
 fundamentalism
and
with
respect
to
the
spiritual
and
phenomenological
 perspectives
on
self
and
human
consciousness.
 PART
I:

A
Critique
of
Modern
Secular
Theory
 Emergence
of
the
Immanent
Frame:

Secularism’s
ironic
relation
to
religion.
 “What
does
it
mean
to
say
that
we
live
in
a
secular
age?”
asks
Charles
Taylor
 in
the
first
sentence
of
his
acclaimed
2007
opus
A
Secular
Age.

The
question
 inevitably
opens
up
upon
a
complex
attempt
to
trace
a
time
when
disbelief
in
God
 was
considered
impossible
through
to
a
time
when
religious
and
anti‐religious
 beliefs
have
become
viable
options
that
exist
under
competing
pressures.

Taylor’s
 work,
described
by
one
reviewer
as
an
“intellectual
blockbuster”
(p.
20),
has
been
 catalytic.

Numerous
websites,
journals,
books
and
conferences
have
been
spawned
 in
response,
as
much
as
confirming
one
of
his
conclusions
that,

 [T]he
positing
of
a
viable
humanist
alternative
[to
religion]set
in
train
a
 dynamic,
something
like
a
nova
effect,
spawning
an
ever‐widening
variety
of
 moral/spiritual
options,
across
the
span
of
the
thinkable
and
perhaps
even
 beyond...
The
connection
between
pursuing
a
moral
or
spiritual
path
and
 belonging
to
larger
ensembles
—state,
church,
even
denominations—
has
 been
further
loosened;
and,
as
a
result,
the
nova
effect
has
been
intensified.
 We
are
now
living
in
a
spiritual
super‐nova,
a
kind
of
galloping
pluralism
on
 the
spiritual
plane.
(Taylor,
pp.
299‐300)
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 There
is
little
doubt
that
western
societies
(as
well
as
many
eastern)
have
 flourished
economically,
politically,
culturally
and
religiously
by
way
of
the
 12
 separation
of
church
and
state.

Yet
it
is
this
very
flourishing
that
now
strains
to
the
 point
of
breaking
the
very
structural
sources
that
have
been
its
‘conduit’.

There
are
 signs
everywhere
that
secularism
can
no
longer
support
itself
under
the
weight
of
 its
own
success;
signs
that
the
terms
of
divorce
between
the
secular
and
the
sacred
 are
not
as
clear‐cut
as
once
thought
or
hoped
for.

Taylor’s
intricate
account
of
 secularization
builds
in
such
a
way
as
to
invite
one
to
think
through
and
beyond
the
 organizational
structures
and
ideologies
that
have
risen
from
its
cumulative
effect
 on
Western
society
(Brown,
2010).

To
achieve
this
he
draws
upon
distinctions
 between
three
enmeshed
past
and
present
renderings
of
secularity.

 
In
the
first,
public
political
and
social
activities
come
under
the
coercive
 power
of
state
law.

In
this
classical
version
church
and
state
are
separated
as
a
 matter
of
mutual
freedom
for
the
others
proper
functioning
and
there
is
left
the
 presence
of
a
secular
public
space.

Secularism
in
this
sense
then
becomes
distinct
 from
a
second
more
social
interpretation
in
which
there
is
a
perceived
decline
in
 the
public
influence
of
religious
belief
and
an
increased
confidence
in
science
and
 reason.

It
is
to
this
secularity
that
Taylor
spends
most
of
his
time
outlining
and
 deconstructing.

Finally
in
a
third
manifestation
(similarly
proposed
by
others
 theorists
and
sometimes
referred
to
as
post‐secular)
a
condition
occurs
in
which
 the
confidence
found
in
science
and
reason
(as
well
as
spirituality
and
religion)
 becomes
subject
to
a
form
of
postmodern
scrutiny.


Secularity
becomes
thus
a
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 “matter
of
the
whole
context
of
understanding
in
which
our
moral,
spiritual
or
 religious
experience
and
search
takes
place”
(Taylor,
p.
3).

 13
 Borrowing
from
Taylor’s
renderings
of
secularity
as
well
as
from
a
variety
of
 other
critical
researchers
and
thinkers
that
precede
and
follow
him,
an
effort
will
be
 made
here
to
assess
how
formations
of
secularity
1
and
2
have
become
 unnecessarily
confused
to
both
create
the
potential
for,
but
also
limit
the
 emergence
of
secularity
3.
 Referring
to
Taylor’s
account
of
secularism
as
a
portrayal
of
an
“epic
irony”,
 the
editors
of
a
recent
compilation
of
essays
critiquing
A
Secular
Age
are
quick
to
 agree
with
Taylor
that
secularity
in
its
modern
western
form
begins
within
 Christianity.

Specifically
it
began
as
a
process
of
Christendom
cleansing
itself
of
folk
 beliefs
and
freeing
itself
from
unwanted
political
responsibilities
and
constraints
 (Warner
et
al,2010,
p.
15).

Gradual
reforms
leading
up
to
and
beyond
the
 Protestant
Reformation
argues
Taylor,
gave
way
to
an
explosion
of
human
agency
 and
creative
ingenuity.

The
“porous
self”
of
pre‐modern
times,
once
so
pre‐ occupied
—
that
is,
“enchanted”—
by
the
perceived
influences
of
supernatural
 entities
becomes
“buffered”,
capable
of
taking
a
distanced
view
of
the
contents
of
 the
mind
and
pursuing
for
itself
an
ordered
society
in
which
the
will
of
the
Deity
 becomes
understood
as
the
pursuit
of
a
shared
common
good
(Taylor,
p.
540).

 What
becomes
lost
in
the
anecdotal
explanation
of
secularism
as
the
vehicle
of
 pervasive
religious
“disenchantment”
and
then
explicit
unbelief
(ie,
atheism),
is
that
 these
developments
occurred
within
the
motivating
conditions
of
religious
belief
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 and
spiritual
conviction
(Armstrong,
2009
chap.7).

Religion,
to
make
the
point
 more
clearly,
was
not
merely
influential
of
the
secular
state
but
a
necessary
 condition
of
it.

"Christianity,
and
nothing
else,"

Jurgen
Habermas
reiterates
in
a
 14
 similar
context
of
analysis,
"is
the
ultimate
foundation
of
liberty,
conscience,
human
 rights,
and
democracy,
the
benchmarks
of
western
civilization…We
continue
to
 nourish
ourselves
from
this
source.

Everything
else
is
postmodern
chatter”
(as
 cited
in
Case,
2006).

 To
agree
or
disagree
with
Habermas’
claim
does
little
to
hurt
the
case
for
the
 inception
of
secularity
as
a
development
within
religion
at
a
time
when
the
 distinction
between
the
sacred
and
profane
was
not
yet
established
as
the
 functional
binary
in
which
the
governance
of
society
would
be
dissociated
from
 spiritual
concerns
(Asad,
2003,
p.
30;
Connolly,
1999,
p.
21).
The
point
that
the
 secular
was
not
an
assault
from
a
force
outside
of
‘religion’
or
even
a
product
of
the
 Enlightenment
is
important
for
several
reasons,
the
most
significant
of
which
is
that
 secularity
as
a
public
space
does
not
(because
it
did
not)
necessarily
require
the
 erosion
of
religious
belief.

In
other
words
the
diminishing
influence
of
religion
in
 the
public
sphere
of
society
is
not
a
necessary
pre‐requisite
for
a
functional
 separation
of
church
and
state.

“It
turns
out”
says
Taylor,
“that
basement
and
 higher
floors
are
intimately
linked;
that
is,
that
the
explanation
one
gives
for
 declines
registered
by
“secularization”
relate
closely
to
one’s
picture
of
the
place
of
 religion
today”
(Taylor,
p.
433).
 Pushing
this
point
even
further
is
Talal
Asad
who
in
his
book
Formations
of
 the
Secular
has
argued
that
it
is
not
enough
to
show
that
religion
was
historically
an
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 15
 integral
aspect
of
secular
development.

For
Asad
the
relationship
continues
today
 but
under
the
strain
of
a
scarcely
acknowledged
hypocrisy.

Asad
points
out
that
 even
in
France
and
America
where
judicial
and
constitutional
structures
differ,
state
 and
religion
are
not
completely
separate.
In
France
(despite
a
large
nonreligious
 population)
all
church
property
belongs
to
the
state
and
priests,
ministers
and
 rabbis
are
formally
state
employees.

In
America
(with
a
large
religious
population)
 religious
groups
successfully
lobby
the
government
on
issues
ranging
from
 sexuality,
abortion
and
the
regional
security
of
Israel
(Abeysekara,
2008,
pp.
14‐ 15).

Asad
thus
makes
the
case
that
secularism
itself
is
a
doctrine
that
builds
on
a
 particular
conception
of
the
world.
 “[T]he
secular”
should
not
be
thought
of
as
the
space
in
which
real
human
 life
gradually
emancipates
itself
from
the
controlling
power
of
“religion”
and
 thus
achieves
the
latter’s
relocation.

It
is
this
assumption
that
allows
us
to
 think
of
religion
as
“infecting”
the
secular
domain
or
as
replicating
within
in
 the
structures
of
theological
concepts.
(Asad,
p.
191)
 
 That
secularism
is
an
ideology
in
which
religion
is
incorrectly
conceptualized
 as
an
old
surviving
virus
only
goes
part
way
in
providing
an
understanding
the
 conditions
for
a
revised
secularity.

The
current
secular
landscape
upon
which
 secularism
operates
somewhat
disingenuously,
Taylor
famously
names
the
 “immanent
frame”.

Such
a
frame
claims
Taylor,
is
the
product
of
the
decisive
 victory
of
“instrumental
rationality”
over
the
understandings
of
an
enchanted
world
 of
transcendent
supernatural
orders
that
dominated
all
previous
civilizations.

It
is
 a
frame
attributed
to
the
rise
of
individualistic
agency,
primarily
represented
in
 religious
reformers
and
philosophers,
that
made
concerted
efforts
to
disentangle
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 the
workings
of
God
from
that
of
nature
in
order
to
constitute
societies
of
mutual
 benefit
(Taylor,
p.
542).

Initially
the
disentanglement
between
the
supernatural
 16
 and
natural
took
a
theistic
form
(Deism),
one
in
which
the
wisdom
of
a
benevolent
 creator
governed
through
“exceptionless”
laws.

But,
as
Taylor
so
thoughtfully
 charts,
it
is
not
long
until
the
laws
of
nature
can
be
understood
as
sufficient
unto
 themselves.

“The
Plan
is
without
a
Planner…”
and
it
is
our
innate
capacity
for
 reason
that
directs
our
behavior
toward
a
universal
view
of
freedom
(p.
543).
 Subtraction
Stories:

How
modern
secularism
delegitimizes
religion
and
absolutizes
 science.
 Proceeding
with
a
critical
analysis
of
how
secularism
has
dominated
the
 modern
consciousness
through
various
‘spins’
on
(options
within)
the
‘immanent
 frame’,
Taylor
laments
the
unchallenged
assumptions
of
what
he
calls

‘closed
world
 structures’.

As
a
product
of
a
secularism
(the
confusion
of
secularity
1
&
2)
‘closed
 world
structures’
emerge
from
the
‘immanent
frame’
to
make
possible
wholly
 “horizontal”
and
“materialistic”
views
of
the
world.

They
are
closed
to
the
 acknowledgment
and
experience
of
the
‘transcendent’
or
the
‘spiritual’
and
tend
to
 generate
unquestioned
trust
in
the
scientific
method.

Taylor,
while
not
rejecting
 the
thesis
that
there
is
nothing
beyond
the
material
world,
wishes
nevertheless
to
 explore
readings
of
the
‘immanent
frame’
that
are
more
open.

He
asks
whether
the
 concept
and
experience
of
transcendence
can
be
so
easily
“sloughed
off”
and
how
 the
context
of
the
‘immanent
frame’
might
change
the
conditions
of
faith
and
belief
 that
contribute
to
what
we
name
and
experience
as
the
religious
and
the
spiritual.


 “Disenchantment”
argues
Taylor
is
not
to
be
confused
with
the
end
of
religion
or
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 17
 spirituality.

The
belief
that
there
is
nothing
beyond
the
“natural”
order
should
not
 be
taken
as
an
epistemic
fact
obvious
to
any
thinking
person.
 Joining
the
company
of
many
contemporary
theorists
and
philosophers
 Taylor
describes
how
‘closed
world
structures’
—such
as
those
now
popularized
in
 the
New
Atheist
movement—
are
being
convincingly
undermined
by
the
 mechanisms
of
post‐modern
deconstruction,
post‐metaphysical
theology
and
(some
 would
say)
by
the
limitations
of
science
itself.

‘Closed
world
structures’
tend
 toward
essentializing
human
realities
as
“natural”
and
“neutral”

(p,
560‐561).

 Notions
of
a
“common
sense”
view
of
the
world
are
thus
promoted
through
a
 “subtraction
narrative”
in
which
the
experience
of
‘God’
or
the
‘sacred’
is
seen
as
 immature
and
illusory.

But,
as
Taylor
asserts,
these
“death
of
God”
narratives
(even
 if
they
are
correct
that
all
that
matters
is
‘matter’)
are
often
grossly
ignorant
of
the
 scientifically
unverifiable
moral
assumptions
and
other
such
social
and
culturally
 produced
constructs
that
give
rise
to
its
so‐called
common
sense
view
(p.
573‐575).


 Where
the
classical
epistemologists
claimed
it
as
an
obvious
truth
of
 “reflection”,
or
inner
observation,
that
one
was
first
of
all
aware
of
the
ideas
 in
our
mind;
the
proponents
of
the
death
of
God
want
to
see
Godlessness
as
a
 property
of
the
universe
in
which
science
lays
bare.
Where
the
 deconstructors
of
epistemology
want
to
show
how
this
obvious
truth
of
 reflection
in
fact
only
appears
so
within
a
certain
value‐laden
construal
of
 agency;
so
here
I
am
arguing
that
it
is
only
within
some
understanding
of
 agency,
in
which
disengaged
scientific
enquiry
is
woven
into
a
story
of
 courageous
adulthood,
to
be
attained
through
a
renunciation
of
the
more
 “childish”
comforts
of
meaning
and
beatitude,
that
the
death
of
God
story
 appears
obvious.
(p.
565)
 
 
Thomas
Nagel
in
his
book
Secular
Philosophy
and
the
Religious
 Temperament,
provides
an
example
of
the
subtle
fallacy
of
scientism
in
his
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 18
 evaluation
of
the
2005
victory
over
a
Dover
Area
school
board
wanting
to
include
 Intelligent
Design

(ID)
into
their
curriculum.

Nagel
—himself
an
atheist
who
 rejects
ID—
says,
 I
suspect
that
the
assumption
that
science
can
never
provide
evidence
for
 the
occurrence
of
something
that
cannot
be
scientifically
explained
is
the
 principal
reason
for
the
belief
that
ID
cannot
be
science;
but
so
far
as
I
can
 see,
that
assumption
is
without
merit.
(Nagel,
2008,
p.
189)
 
 For
Nagel
important
scientific
work
often
begins
with
assumptions
and
intuitions
 (such
as
many
of
those
currently
attributed
to
theories
of
origin)
that
cannot
be
 (and
may
never
be)
verifiable
by
empirical
scientific
methods.

The
pursuit
common
 to
science,
religion
and
philosophy
Nagel
suggests
is
the
attempt
to
“bring
into
one’s
 life
a
full
recognition
of
one’s
relational
to
the
universe
as
a
whole”
(Nagel,
2009
 pt.1
sec.2).

To
claim
that
this
can
only
be
done
from
a
position
of
immanent
 materialism
should
not
be
taken
as
a
forgone
conclusion.

Scientists,
it
turns
out,
are
 not
without
a
form
a
faith
(ie.
trust)
since
they
cannot
provide
proof
(even
by
their
 own
standard)
that
the
scientific
method
is
the
only
credible
way
to
disclose
the
 truth
of
one’s
relation
to
the
universe.
 In
a
work
similar
in
ambition
to
A
Secular
Age,
Buddhist
Philosopher
Ken
 Wilber

(Integral
Spirituality:
A
Startling
New
Role
for
Religion
in
the
Modern
and
 Postmodern
World),
offers
a
critique
of
the
modern
secular
view
but
does
so
using
 an
explicitly
‘post‐metaphysical’
theory
that
attempts
to
map
the
manifestation
of
 reality
as
the
evolution
of
consciousness
(2007).

The
‘Integral
Theory’
movement,
 which
is
based
on
Wilber’s
insights,
has
gathered
significant
strength
in
recent
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 19
 years
and
has
garnered
interest
from
a
wide
range
of
researchers
and
practitioners
 from
both
scientific
and
religious
communities.
 Much
like
Taylor,
Wilber
describes
modern
secular
views
of
the
world
as
 having
produced
a
pressured
situation
in
which
one
is
strained
to
interpret
one’s
 varied
experience
of
‘being’
as
either
rational
and
scientific
or
irrational
and
 superstitious
(p.
185‐190).
The
felt
pressure
of
this
either\or
contrariety
is
for
 Wilber
one
way
of
accounting
for
both
the
reactive
frustration
of
those
dismissive
 of
concepts
and
experiences
of
the
spiritual
as
well
as
the
xenophobia
of
religious
 fundamentalists
who
sometimes
condone
religiously
motivated
acts
of
terror
and
 violence.
 When
science
was
absolutized,
just
there
was
the
hidden
instability
that
led
 to
a
dissociation
of
the
value
spheres,
and
then
to
the
colonization
of
the
life
 world
by
a
scientific
rationality
that
was
now
carrying
the
burden
of
 spiritual
or
ultimate
concern…while
inherently
failing
miserably
to
satisfy
 the
hidden
spiritual
impulses
that
were
now
unconsciously
displaced
onto
it.
 (p.
188)



 
 Wilber
refers
to
the
idiom
“flat‐land”
to
infer
a
limited
dimensionality
to
the
 way
the
science
versus
religion
discourse
can
affect
the
way
one
makes
meaning
of
 their
‘lifeworld’
experience.

For
Wilber
however,
a
‘flat‐land’
view
would
not
just
 apply
to
those
that
are
dismissive
of
the
phenomena
of
transcendent
experience
but
 also
of
religious
perspectives
that
pander
a
‘common
sense’
or
essentializing
view
 of
reality
founded
on
epistemic
claims
of
Divine
authority
in
Holy
Scripture.

Here
 too
a
subtraction
story
gives
rise
to
a
‘closed
world
structure’
of
a
different
sort.

In
 this
case
the
belief
is
that
by
eliminating
the
demonic\deceptive
forces
of
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 20
 modernity
the
truth
of
the
Divine
is
fully
disclosed.


In
a
double
stroke
of
irony
the
 religious
fundamentalist
thus
comes
under
the
influence
of
the
very
modernism
 they
are
in
reaction
to
by
confusing
belief
with
epistemic
fact,
and
faith
with
 propositional
certainty.
Religious
rituals
and
practices
become
only
symbolic
of
the
 established
contents
of
faith
and
not
—as
in
ages
past—
constitutive
of
faith
itself.
 The
strange
parody
of
atheistic
scientism
and
religious
fundamentalism
is
of
 interest
to
Wilber
who
views
the
situation
from
a
perspective
of
developmental
 unfolding
(evolutionary
panentheism)
that
subsumes
the
extremes
of
both
theist
 and
non‐theist
positions.
Science
and
religion
‐even
in
‘flat‐land’
forms‐
contribute
 to
what
is
viewed
as
the
spiritual
unfolding
of
the
universe
even
though
they
are
 somewhat
“frozen”
at
an
ironic
impasse.

Wilber
thus
sees
religious
conviction
and
 experience
as
deserved
of
a
place
in
public
discourse
but
also
as
an
aspect
of
human
 development
toward
the
emergence
of
potentially
more
complex
structures
of
 consciousness.
 [P]recisely
because
of
its
ownership
of
the
pre‐rational
heritage
of
humanity
 (and
the
pre‐rational
corpus
of
the
great
myths),
religion
alone
can
help
its
 followers
move
from
the
pre‐rational,
mythic‐membership,
ethnocentric,
 absolutist
version
of
its
message
to
the
rational‐perspectival,
worldcentric,
 postconventional
version
of
its
own
message….The
great
religions
alone
can
 thus
be
the
conveyor
belt
that
gives
legitimacy
(in
both
the
sociological
and
 religious
sense)
to
versions
of
their
essential
story
and
their
essential
 spirituality.
This
is
a
difficult
jump,
as
everything
from
terrorists
to
closeted
 college
student’s
attests.
(p.
198)

 
 Thus
for
Wilber
religion
and
not
just
science
can
provide
a
way
beyond
the
 “pressure‐
lid”
created
by
the
limitations
of
a
secularity
driven
by
scientism.

His
 reason
for
this
being
that
religion
can
incorporate
aspects
of
human
development
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 21
 that
include
the
mythic
and
the
scientific
without
totally
invalidating
the
‘truths’
of
 either,
something
science
has
not
historically
been
willing
to
do.
 The
Secular
Burqa:
How
modern
systems
of
knowledge
suppress
religious
 expressions
of
identity.
 
 Configurations
of
knowledge
and
power
that
drive
both
secular
and
religious
 ideologies
—especially
of
the
‘closed
world
structure’
\’flat‐land’
type—
tend
to
 have
their
strongest
effect
when
they
are
felt
but
no
longer
available
as
a
matter
of
 conscious
reflection
(and
therefore
choice).


Michel
Foucault
expressed
this
 fittingly
in
his
metaphor
of
the
‘gaze’.

Modern
system’s
of
knowledge\power
he
 argued
famously,
operate
in
a
way
in
which
people
collaborate
in
the
subjugation
of
 their
own
sense
of
identity
without
the
need
for
visible
locus
of
control
(Foucault
&
 Sheridan,
1991).

 To
evaluate
the
“good”
and\or
“bad”
of
this
type
of
acquiescence
is
usually
 not
possible
until
the
normalizing
‘gaze’
of
one
ideology
‘refracts’
through
another
 —potentially
exposing
both
to
conscious
observation,
reflection
and
consequent
re‐ action
or
discourse.

Interestingly,
opportunities
for
such
‘refraction’
are
usually
 limited
by
assurances
implicit
to
the
ideology
that
such
exposure
is
either
 detrimental
or
just
an
unnecessary
hassle.

An
example
of
‘ideological
refraction’
as
 it
is
being
developed
here
is
known
colloquially
as
‘culture
shock’.


The
experience
 of
anxiety
many
travelers
feel
when
exposed
to
another’s
(and
consequently
one’s
 own)
ideological
norms
can
both
weaken
and\or
strengthen
one’s
sense
of
identity.

 I
recall
the
long
conversation
with
a
colleague
about
having
to
decide
whether
she
 should
wear
the
hijab
while
visiting
the
sharia
law‐abiding
province
of
Aceh
only
a
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 22
 few
months
after
the
2006
tsunami.

Upon
arrival
she
could
both
‘feel’
and
reflect
 upon
conflicting
cultural,
religious
and
political
‘gazes’
as
we
walked
the
streets
 being
watched
by
curious
men
and
a
majority
of
women
who
had
their
heads
 covered.


 
Recent
controversy
over
the
use
of
the
hijab
and
burqa
in
secular
countries
 provide
another
salient
example
of
‘ideological
refraction’.

Representing
a
strong
 voice
in
the
debate
is
France
whose
concept
of
laïcité
(secularism)
has
in
the
last
 century
developed
into
an
increasingly
rigorous
vindication
of
the
public
sphere
 from
certain
expressions
of
religious
and
ethnic
particularities.

In
a
rare
 parliamentary
appearance
in
September
2010,
French
President
Nicolas
Sarkozy
 expressed
his
aversion
to
the
head‐to‐toe
Islamic
veil.

Deeming
it
not
a
sign
of
 religion
but
a
sign
of
subservience,
he
asserted
that,

 It
will
not
be
welcome
on
French
soil…
We
cannot
accept,
in
our
country,
 women
imprisoned
behind
a
mesh,
cut
off
from
society,
deprived
of
all
 identity.
That
is
not
the
French
republic's
idea
of
women's
dignity.
(as
 quoted
by
Kirby,
2010)
 
 Here
the
presumption
to
know
the
meaning
of
human
identity
is
subtly
separated
 from
stating
the
French
republic’s
idea
of
dignity.

This
separation
it
may
be
argued
 adds
a
fallacious
(and
perhaps
even
a
disingenuous)
validation
to
Mr.
Sarkozy’s
 position,
which
reaches
beyond
the
pragmatic
issue
of
being
able
to
identify
citizens
 in
the
interest
of
public
safety.

Values
and
beliefs
about
the
meaning
of
secular
 identity
are
assumed,
making
the
consequent
judgment
in
relation
to
dignity
a
 matter
of
‘common
sense’.


What
can
be
easily
ignored
in
such
a
rendering
are
the
 unheard
and
unexamined
perspectives
that
precede
such
a
position.

Would
a
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 23
 conservative
Muslim
(especially
one
wearing
it
by
free
individual
choice)
agree
that
 the
use
of
the
burqa
in
public
is
undignified?

Should
this
be
the
reason
why
it
 should
or
should
not
be
worn?
In
the
case
of
my
colleague
in
Indonesia,
both
the
 choice
to
wear
the
hijab
or
not
to
wear
it
seemed
like
‘common
sense’
depending
on
 the
configuration
of
values
and
beliefs
she
chose
to
feel
and
reflect
upon.
There
was
 nowhere
a
neutral
place
in
which
to
evaluate
either
values
or
their
potential
 perspectives.
 

 For
better
and
for
worse,
one
of
the
narcissisms
of
‘closed
world
structure’
 secularity
is
that
ideas
about
such
things
as
identity,
dignity
and
freedom
have
 come
to
be
perceived
as
needing
to
develop
apart
from
or
parallel
to
religious
 belief\unbelief:
that
they
are
in
some
way
outside
of,
or
exempt
from,
the
histories
 of
power
and
knowledge
that
produced
them
as
rituals
of
what
is
now
considered
 truth.


A
consequence
of
this
is
that
citizens
of
secular
democracies
are
expected
to
 repress
public
expressions
of
their
religious\cultural
practices
that
the
secular
state
 deems
inappropriate.
The
effect
is
somewhat
akin
to
a
‘secular
burqa’
(if
this
 metaphor
might
be
permitted)
in
which
the
‘wearer’,
despite
the
ongoing
felt
 discomfort,
no
longer
reflects
publically
on
the
choice
to
conceal
features
of
identity
 that
have
a
moral
impact
and
felt
influence
on
others.

And
so
while
in
aiming
to
 protect
a
pluralistic
society
the
secular
state
can
inadvertently
(under
the
influence
 of
its
own
knowledge\power
‘gaze’)
restrict
the
very
discursive
spaces
in
which
 pluralism
is
intended
to
flourish.

 
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 The
Conceits
of
Secularism:
Exposing
the
fallacy
of
secular
neutrality.
 
 
 24
 The
problem
being
explored
here
is
not
whether
there
should
be
restriction
 of,
and\or
limitations
on
the
public
expression
of
culture
and
religion.

It
may
well
 be
that
the
burqa
should
be
publically
banned
via
a
democratically
agreed
upon
 rationale.

The
issue
rather,
is
the
conditions
upon
which
the
values
that
inform
 such
restrictions
are
chosen.


 Avowed
liberal
secular
atheist
Jürgen
Habermas
(mentioned
several
times
 above),
who
some
consider
the
most
influential
philosopher
and
sociologist
of
our
 time,
has
spent
much
of
his
career
arguing
against
allowing
religiously
informed
 moral
arguments
in
the
public
sphere
(a
sphere
for
which
he
also
had
a
role
in
 historicizing).

Yet
as
the
new
century
unfolds
Habermas
has
—through
a
series
of
 publications
and
public
appearances—
decried
the
false
contradiction
between
 religion
and
rationality,
and
pronounced
his
belief
that
we
are
now
living
in
a
‘post‐ secular’
age.

 The
liberal
state
must
not
transform
the
requisite
institutional
separation
of
 religion
and
politics
into
an
undue
mental
and
psychological
burden
for
 those
of
its
citizens
who
follow
a
faith.
.
.
.
[Citizens
should
not
have
to]
split
 their
identity
into
a
public
and
private
part
the
moment
they
participate
in
 public
discourses.
They
should
therefore
be
allowed
to
express
and
justify
 their
convictions
in
a
religious
language
if
they
cannot
find
secular
 ‘translations’
for
them.
(Habermas,
2006)
 
 Habermas
claims
elsewhere
that
so
long
as
citizens
view
religion
and
 religious
communities
as
relics
of
the
pre‐modern
they
will
only
understand
 religious
freedom
as
the
“cultural
version
of
the
conservation
of
a
species
becoming
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 extinct”
(2006).

As
a
result
any
contributions
deemed
to
have
stemmed
from
 25
 religious
views
will
not
be
taken
seriously
nor
will
such
contributions
be
assessed
 for
possible
expression
in
more
inclusive
terms.

 Political
scientist
William
Connolly
shares
this
concern
and
before
Habermas
 and
Taylor,
had
highlighted
in
his
1999
book
Why
I
Am
Not
a
Secularist
what
he
 calls
the
“conceits
of
secularism”.


 [S]ecularism
kills
two
birds
with
one
stone:
as…
[it
tries]
to
seal
public
life
 from
religious
doctrines…[it
also
casts]
out
a
set
of
nontheistic
orientations
 to
reverence,
ethics,
and
public
life
that
deserve
to
be
heard.
These
two
 effects
follow
from
the
secular
conceit
to
provide
a
single
authoritative
basis
 of
public
reason
and\or
public
ethics
that
governs
all
reasonable
citizens
 regardless
of
“personal”
or
“private”
faith.

To
invoke
that
principle
against
 religious
enthusiasts,
secularists
are
also
pressed
to
be
pugnacious
against
 asecular,
nontheistic
perspectives
that
call
these
very
assumptions
and
 prerogatives
into
question.
(p.
5)
 
 Connolly
also
observes
that
the
inability
to
draw
a
clear
line
between
public
and
 private
discourse
whilst
claiming
to
have
drawn
one,
further
invites
religious
 enthusiasts
to
call
for
a
theologically
centered
state.

The
“transparent
favoritism”
 of
the
so
called
‘neutral’
public
state
also
gives
ample
room
for
critics
to
accuse
 secularists
of
moral
hypocrisy
(1999,
p.
23).

“If
the
nobility
of
secularism
is
in
its
 quest
to
enable
multiple
faiths
to
coexist
on
the
same
public
space”
concludes
 Connolly,
then
“its
shallowness
resides
in
the
hubris
of
its
distinction
between
 private
faith
and
public
reason”
(2005,
p.
59).
 
 Taking
cues
from
Connolly’s
work
Ananda
Abeysekara
furthers
that
the
 difficulty
of
establishing
the
line
between
what
is
to
be
of
public
and
private
 concern
derives
from
the
seldom‐discussed
problem
of
establishing
a
clear
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 26
 distinction
between
what
is
religious
and
what
is
secular.

Arguing
in
his
2008
book
 The
Politics
of
Post­Secular
Religion
he
emphasizes
that
the
normalizing
power
of
a
 privileged
secularism
is
predicated
on
its
power
to
authorize
religion.

Charting
the
 history
of
this
from
Locke
through
to
Kant,
Abeysekara
points
out
that
the
 enlightenment
discourses
of
secularism
have
rendered
“demarcations
for
 tolerance”
that
have
in
turn
influenced
the
idea
that
the
state
is
empowered
to
 ignore
(or
take
a
neutral
stance
toward)
beliefs,
practices
and
sentiments
it
deems
 religious
(pp.
166‐169).

What
does
and
does
not
constitute
authentic
religion
is
 thus
given
to
the
very
power
that
claims
for
itself
an
indifferent
stance
toward
it
— as
Mr.
Sarkosy’s
position
on
the
burqa
illustrates.
 The
point
I
want
to
underscore
is
not
that
distinctions
like
secular
and
 religious
and
state
and
church
be
erased.
Rather,
the
debates
and
disputes
 about
what
such
distinctions
should
embody,
how
and
in
what
kinds
of
ways
 they
should
be
drawn,
take
place
in
discursive
spaces
not
determined
by
the
 available
conceptions
of
the
public
and
the
private.
Such
debates
can
hold
 religious\secular
distinctions
in
constitutive
tension,
never
losing
site
of
 their
political
formations,
the
“possibility”
of
their
reformations,
to
the
 extent
that
the
nation‐state
cannot
afford
not
to
take
notice
of
certain
claims
 because
they
represent
“religion”.
(p.
179)

 
 Abeysekara’s
analysis
asks
whether
simply
invoking
the
value
of
the
 distinction
between
religion
and
politics
can
any
longer
sustain
pluralism
and
 democracy
(p.
169).

“Can
we
explore
ways
of
constructing
a
politics
of
tolerance
 that
does
not
remain
subject
to
the
calculus
of
the
nation‐state
and
its
supposed
 majority/community?”
(p.
172).

 On
offer
thus
far
is
a
rather
devastating
critique
of
a
type
of
secularism
that
 blindly
discriminates
within
public
politics,
moral
decision
making
that
it
deems
is
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 religiously
motivated.

Such
privilege,
it
has
been
argued,
has
been
justified
by
 27
 confusing
the
separation
of
church
and
state
with
the
fallacious
and
anachronistic
 notion
that
the
separation
is
the
result
of
the
‘natural’
decline
of
faith
and
religion
to
 the
powers
of
reason
and
science.

The
problem
with
this
account
of
secularism
 (besides
the
subtraction
stories
that
gives
it
rise)
is
the
disingenuous
manner
in
 which
it
proceeds
to
regulate
the
discursive
spaces
in
which
voices
might
be
heard
 and
processed
—
the
space
in
which
the
members
of
a
democracy
can
mutually
 develop
increasingly
nuanced
perspectives.

The
secular
state
by
pretending
to
 represent
a
self‐evident
or
worse,
neutral
point
of
view,
has
authorized
itself
— under
the
‘unrefracted’
gaze
of
its
own
ideological
bias—
to
define
both
the
‘space’
 and
the
language
(code)
acceptable
for
public
participation.


 This
rather
conspiratorial
sounding
claim
may
seem
far‐fetched
in
light
of
 the
proliferation
of
information\knowledge
on
the
word
wide
web
and
the
 seemingly
endless
sources
of
perspective
one
can
acquire
in
an
instant
through
 formal
and
informal
digital
sources.
Yet
it
is
the
proliferation
of
perspectives
that
 has
served
to
both
reveal
and
conceal
the
‘knowledge/power’
dynamic
that
many
 current
political
scientists,
philosophers
and
social
critics
are
deeming
inadequate
 to
sustain
a
greater
pluralistic
aspiration.

Recent
controversy
over
Terry
Jones,
the
 Floridian
pastor
who
wished
to
burn
Qurans
in
protest
of
radical
Islam
and
Julian
 Assange
the
co‐founder
of
Wikileaks
organization
that
posts
leaked
confidential
 information
are
both
cases
in
point.
The
question
is
not
only
who
authorizes
what
 voices
and
actions
are
fit
for
public\political
dissemination
but
just
as
importantly
 how
the
process
in
which
voices
get
to
be
heard
becomes
authorized.
It
is
in
this
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 later
sense
that
I
am
arguing
that
secularism
in
its
current
form
seems
to
have
 reached
a
certain
capacity.

One
might
say
that
it
no
longer
has
the
sufficient
 28
 ‘memory’
with
which
to
‘host’
the
potential
applications
(perspectives)
that
it
has
 given
occasion
for,
nor
has
it
the
‘processing
power’
to
make
use
of
such
 applications.

 Returning
again
to
the
work
of
Charles
Taylor
and
William
Connolly
a
move
 will
now
be
made
to
briefly
explore
the
characteristics
and
possible
practices
that
 inform
a
revised
secularity,
or
what
others
in
similar
veins
of
analysis
have
deemed
 the
‘post‐secular’.


 Towards
a
New
Social
Imaginary:
How
the
conditions
for
a
post­secular
society
are
 formed.
 Against
mere
secularized
public
spaces
(secularity
1)
and
the
decline
of
 religious
belief
and
practice
(secularity
2)
Taylor
asserts
secularity
3
as
the
“new
 conditions
of
belief…
a
new
shape
to
experience
which
prompts
to
and
is
defined
by
 belief;
in
a
context
in
which
all
search
and
questioning
about
the
moral
and
spiritual
 must
proceed”
(2007,
p.
20).


 The
main
feature
of
this
new
context
is
that
it
puts
an
end
to
the
naïve
 acknowledgement
of
the
transcendent,
or
of
goals
or
claims
which
go
 beyond
human
flourishing.
But
this
is
quite
unlike
religious
turnovers
in
the
 past,
where
one
naïve
horizon
ends
up
replacing
another....
Naïveté
is
now
 unavailable
to
anyone,
believer
or
unbeliever
alike.
(p.
21)
 
 Some
philosophers
or
theologians
deem
this
absence
of
naïveté
as
the
space
 for
a
new
form
of
‘enchantment’
or
a
second
naïveté
that
proceeds
from
a
radical
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 29
 epistemic
humility
(Armstrong,
2009;
Caputo,
Vattimo,
&
Robbins,
2007;
Cox,
2009;
 Cupitt,
2010;
Tomlinson,
2008;
Wilber,
2007).

Despite
—and
to
a
large
part
due
 to—
the
variety
of
ways
that
the
experience
of
immanence
and
transcendence
are
 conceptualized
(some
of
which
will
be
discussed
in
Part
II)
the
central
 characteristic
of
a
revised
secularity
is
its
openness
to
the
interplay
between
 language
and
experience
towards
what
Taylor
calls
“fullness”.

Such
openness,
 though
still
shaped
by
the
“immanent
frame”,
exists
under
a
new
kind
of
pressure,
 or
embraced
tension,
which
is
always
producing
new
options
for
belief
rather
than
 restricting
them
via
the
reductionist,
rigidly
‘dichotomistic’,
either\or
varieties
 produced
by
the
subtraction
narratives
of
‘closed
world
structures’.

 Reworking
and
substantially
revising
[Max]
Weber’s
understanding
of
 “disenchantment,”
Taylor
suggests
that
“the
spiritual
shape
of
the
present
 age”…
can
be
characterized
by
the
religious
and
secular
possibilities
the
 immanent
frame
allows
and
enables,
including
possibilities
of
unreflective
 unbelief
introduced
by
the
idea
of
a
self
sufficient
immanent
order,
a
 naturalist
conception
of
the
world
made
possible
and
reinforced
by
a
range
 of
other
historical
changes.

Yet
religion
and
spirituality
are
not
extinguished
 in
this
context,
but
have
rather
been
refigured.
We
should
not
confuse
 disenchantment
with
the
end
of
religion,
therefore,
as
religious
 commitments
and
opening
to
“transcendence”
remain
possible
from
within
 the
immanent
frame,
even
as
new
forces
push
for
the
“closure
of
 immanence.”
(Warner,
et
al.,
p.
13)
 
 Taylor
readily
admits
(as
do
those
who
critique
him)
that
his
use
of
the
 concept
of
transcendence
is
problematic
and
that
the
experience
of
transcendence
 within
religion
is
“fraught
with
peril”.

He
nevertheless
asserts
the
possibility
that
 many
within
the
exclusive
humanist
camp
may
be
responding
to
transcendent
 realities
but
shutting
out
crucial
features
of
them
(pp.
768‐769).

Important
to
the
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 present
analysis
however,
is
not
Taylor’s
theoretical
understandings
of
 “transcendence”
or
“fullness”
but
rather
the
notion
of
secularity
3
as
the
“sensed
 context”
in
which
beliefs
are
developed
and
not
the
set
of
beliefs
with
which
the
 human
predicament
is
analyzed
(p.
549).


 30
 By
“sensed
context”
Taylor
harkens
to
what
he
calls
“the
social
imaginary”
—
 a
phrase
he
has
borrowed
and
reinterpreted
from
Jacque
Lacan.

The
‘social
 imaginary’
is
not
a
theory,
doctrine,
ideology
or
even
a
construct
or
meta‐narrative
 although
its
formation
may
both
influence
and
produce
all
of
these.
It
is
rather
the
 implicit
backdrop
upon
which
and
within
which
social
activity
takes
place.

It
 incorporates
a
sense
of
how
we
carry
out
what
is
taken
to
be
normative
practices
 and
interwoven
with
an
idea
of
what
would
be
considered
invalid
in
these
practices
 (p.
173).
 

 Taylor
thus
distinguishes
‘social
imaginaries’
from
social
theory
in
several
 ways,
the
first
being
that
they
are
held
by
everyone
and
not
just
to
those
given
to
 reflect
upon
social
phenomena.

An
imaginary
can
never
be
fully
expressed
or
 disclosed
by
theory
due
to
their
“unlimited”
and
“indefinite
nature”
(p.
173).

They
 can
emerge
from
and
are
influenced
by
theory
but
they
are
carried
forward
by
 action
and
behavior.

This
then
highlights
a
second
aspect
of
‘social
imaginaries’,
 which
is
their
reciprocal
relationship
with
human
practice(s).

Understanding
may
 make
new
practices
possible
but
within
a
social
imaginary,
practice
is
also
what
 carries
the
understanding.

Switching
to
a
text
metaphor,
the
‘social
imaginary’
is
 both
the
story
as
it
is
being
lived
(practiced,
acted)
and
the
life
of
the
story.
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 31
 This
implicit
grasp
of
social
space
is
unlike
a
theoretical
description
of
this
 space,
distinguishing
different
kinds
of
people,
and
the
norms
connected
to
 them.

The
understanding
implicit
in
practice
stands
to
social
theory
the
way
 that
my
ability
to
get
around
a
familiar
environment
stands
to
a
(literal)
map
 of
this
area.
I
am
very
well
able
to
orient
myself
without
having
ever
adopted
 the
standpoint
of
overview
which
the
map
offers
me.

And
similarly,
for
most
 of
human
history,
and
for
most
of
social
life,
we
function
through
the
grasp
 we
have
on
the
common
repertory,
without
the
benefit
of
theoretical
 overview.

Humans
operated
with
a
social
imaginary
long
before
they
ever
 got
into
the
business
of
theorizing
about
themselves.
(p.
173)
 
 
 This
point
about
social
imaginaries
and
their
function
is
important
to
the
 emergence
of
a
renewed
secularity
for
many
reasons.

It
highlights
first
of
all
that
 secularism
has
been
and
is
still
to
a
certain
extent,
restrained
by
a
naïve
 relationship
between
social
theory
and
the
realities
of
common
social
interaction
 and
practice.

Put
another
way,
modern
secularism
has
actively
ignored
the
power
 of
social
ritual
and
practice
as
a
vehicle
of
understanding
(specifically
those
given
to
 the
religious),
and
has
thus
assumed
a
role
for
analytical
understanding
that
often
 betrays
the
life‐world
that
informs
them.
This
idea
will
be
explored
in
more
detail
 in
Part
III
as
aspects
of
narrative
theory
and
therapy,
but
for
now
it
is
sufficient
to
 say
that
within
a
renewed
secularity
and
a
transformed
imaginary
an
intentional
 common
practice
would
be
to
give
greater
significance
to
the
dense
life‐world
of
 action,
ritual
and
practice.


 The
need
to
intentionally
observe
and
—less
even
create—
new
social
 practices
seems
lost
to,
or
at
least
a
minor
concern,
for
many
theorists
calling
for
a
 revised
secular
context.

Habermas
for
example,
expresses
the
need
for
a
context
in
 which
“…
a
change
in
epistemic
attitudes…occur
for
the
religious
consciousness
to
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 become
reflective
and
the
secularist
consciousness
to
transcend
its
limitations….
 32
 [so
as
to]
qualify
these
mentality
changes
as
complementary
‘learning
processes’
”
 (Habermas,
2006).

While
a
change
in
epistemic
attitude
is
needed
to
produce
 fitting
theoretical
frameworks
of
change,
it
is
also
easy
to
neglect
—as
was
almost
 impossible
to
do
in
pre‐modern
contexts—the
actual
practices
that
carry
the
 change
into
the
life
world
of
humanity.

It
is
here
that
the
world
of
religion
and
 spirituality
often
seems
to
have
an
advantage
since
it
—for
better
and
for
worse—
 sees
theory
and
praxis
as
assuming
interpenetrating
functions
in
the
life
of
faith.
 An
Ethos
of
Engagement:
The
politics
of
a
more
rigorous
pluralism.
 
 William
Connolly,
who
refers
to
himself
as
an
open
theist
and
an
immanent
 naturalist
(as
opposed
to
materialist),
is
supportive
but
also
mildly
critical
of
many
 other
social
theorists
(such
as
Habermas
and
Taylor)
regarding
the
importance
of
 the
practices
and
felt
interactions
of
the
life‐world.

Influenced
by
evolutionary
 biology,
Connolly
uses
the
science
of
symbiogenesis
and
autopoiesis
as
metaphoric
 descriptors
of
the
complex,
nonlinear
inter‐subjective
relations
required
for
a
 vibrant
secular
pluralism
he
calls
an
“ethos
of
engagement”.


 Connolly
(2010)
is
skeptical
of
the
radical
transcendence
endorsed
by
Taylor
 and
is
content
rather
to
“relocate
the
element
of
mystery”
into
a
more
“mundane
 transcendence”
punctuated
in
the
messy
matrix
of
natural
and
cultural
processes.

 In
descriptions
of
a
nonnucleated
cell
“crossing”
into
becoming
nucleated
he
 attempts
to
give
expression
to
the
type
of
complex
interactions
possible
in
the
 science
versus
religion
discourse.

Such
‘crossings’
says
Connolly,
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 33
 expresses
but
does
not
represent
that
which
preceded
and
enables
it….

So
we
 join
theologians
in
supporting
a
place
for
mystery
against
the
hubris
of
some
 kinds
of
materialism;
and
we
join
some
materialists
in
suggesting
that
a
 theological
recognition
of
mystery
invests
no
set
of
priests
with
legitimate
 authority
of
everyone.
(p.
134)



 
 For
Connolly
(2005)
secularity
itself
needs
to
undergo
a
radical
pluralization
and
 thus
requires
a
more
intricate
“prism”

(his
word)
with
which
to
‘process’
 perspectives.

His
notion
of
“crossings”
is
something
akin
to
that
of
‘ideological
 refraction’
made
earlier
in
that
it
explicitly
permits
as
valid
to
the
process
a
much
 wider
range
of

“visceral
registers”
than
most
secular
participants
might
be
 comfortable
with.

 How
might
the
emendation
of
the
secular
be
pursued?...In
the
place
of
the
 Habermasian

ideal
of
a
consensus
between
rational
agents
who
rise
above
 their
interests
and
sensibilities,
you
might
substitute
that
of
ethically
 sensitive,
negotiated
settlements
between
chastened
partisans
who
proceed
 from
contending
and
overlapping
presumptions
while

jointly
coming
to
 appreciate
the
unlikelihood
of
reaching
rational
agreement
on
several
basic
 issues;
in
place
of
a
reduction
of
public
discourse
to
pure
argument,
you
 might
appreciate
positive
possibilities
in
the
visceral
register
of
thinking
and
 discourse
too,
exploring
how
this
dimension
of
subjectivity
and
 intersubjectivity
is
indispensable
to
creative
thinking,
to
the
introduction
of
 new
identities
onto
the
cultural
register
of
legitimacy...;in
response
to
the
 quest
for
rational
purity
in
moral
motivation,
judgment
and
authority,
you
 might
explore
an
ethic
of
cultivation
in
which
a
variety
of
constituencies
 work
on
themselves
to
attenuate
that
amygdalic
panic
that
often
arises
when
 you
encounter
gender,
sensual,
or
religious
identities
that
call
the
 naturalness,
rationality,
or
sanctity
of
your
own
identities
into
question…;
 and
in
response
to
the
secular
demand
to
leave
controversial
religious
and
 meta‐physical
judgments
at
home
so
as
to
hone
a
single
public
practice
of
 reason
or
justice,
you
might
pursue
a
generous
ethos
of
engagement
between
 a
plurality
of
constituencies
inhabiting
the
same
territory
and
honoring
 different
moral
sources.
And
so
on.
(1999,
pp.
35‐36)
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 
 This
ambitious
vision
seems
to
share
a
similar
tone
to
Taylor’s
expressed
 34
 need
for
a
new
social
imaginary
except
Connolly
seems
to
go
farther
in
describing
 conditions
and
challenges.

For
example,
he
makes
a
distinction
between
two
 mutually
reinforcing
concepts
of
plurality:
“Deep
pluralism”,
which
expresses
a
 readiness
to
passionately
defend
one’s
system
of
belief
while
acknowledging
that
it
 lacks
the
power
to
give
itself
full
authority,
and
“multidimensional
pluralism”
 (elsewhere
called
“thick
pluralism”)
where
differences
in
creed,
culture,
language,
 gender
practice
and
all
manner
of
sensual
affiliations
find
expression
in
a
“politics
 of
becoming”
(2010,
p.
137).

 The
politics
of
becoming
is
paradoxical.
A
new
cultural
identity
emerges
out
 of
old
injuries
and
differences.
But
because
there
is
no
eternal
model
it
 copies
as
it
moves
toward
new
definition,
and
because
it
meets
resistance
 from
identities
depending
upon
its
neediness
or
marginality
to
secure
 themselves,
the
end
result
of
this
politics
is
seldom
clear
at
its
inception.
 (1999,
p.
57)
 
 Suppressing
and
limiting
such
a
‘politics
of
becoming’
are
the
polemics
of
 control.

But
as
expressed
above
these
can
become
difficult
to
distinguish
between
 since
new
cultural
identities
are
forged
by
past
‘injuries’,
and
the
tensions
created
 by
on
going
‘refraction’.
Recall
the
stressful
state
of
affairs
involving
Terry
Jones,
the
 conservative
evangelical
pastor
from
Florida
whose
congregation
of
roughly
fifty
 (ironically
named
‘Dove
Outreach
Center’
since
the
dove
is
a
Christian
symbol
for
 peace)
announced
via
Twitter
that
they
would
burn
Quran’s
on
September
11th,
 2010.


This
they
claimed
was
their
way
of
expressing
a
religiously
motivated
 conviction
to
protest
against
the
influence
of
radical
Islam
within
America.

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Interestingly,
the
dangerous
generalizations
of
Jones’
anti‐Islamic
ideology
 (mirrored
by
angry
flag
burning
mobs
abroad
seeking
to
condemn
Jones)
was
 35
 unquestionably
denounced
as
xenophobic
lunacy
—even
by
conservatives
in
Jones’
 own
evangelical
camp.

It
was
rather
the
role
of
the
media
in
giving
Jones
the
 international
public
stage
that
developed
into
the
central
controversy,
even
as
 major
political
figures
including
the
president
of
the
United
States
were
as
much
as
 forced
to
appeal
in
the
interests
of
preventing
violence.


 
“You
used
us
Terry
Jones!”
blogged
a
Washington
Post
reporter
(Boorstein,
 2010).


Retrospectives
by
several
journalists
and
political
pundits
seem
to
conclude
 that
the
media
had
mistakenly
given
—under
the
influence
of
unfolding
political
 and
cultural
forces—
attention
to
a
radical
group
whom
would
normally
stay
 quietly
under
the
public
radar.

While
this
analysis
may
carry
some
validity
in
the
 context
of
the
current
culture
wars
in
North
America,
one
might
ask
in
the
context
 of
this
discussion
what
that
situation
may
look
like
under
conditions
of
secularity
 that
Connolly,
Taylor,
Habermas,
Wilber,
Asad
and
Abeysekara
call
for?

In
that
 scenario
the
exposure
of
Terry
Jones
to
public
discourse
might
be
viewed
as
the
 sanest
and
even
safest
of
options.


Indeed
it
is
precisely
the
now
lamentable
 conditions
of
‘exposure’
that
eventually
precipitated
events
that
caused
Terry
Jones
 to
rescind
his
plans
and
assume
a
much‐chastened
attitude.

It
is
also
such
exposure
 that
carries
forward
what
for
many
is
an
important
public
discourse
on
the
 meaning
of
free
speech
and
tolerance.

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Despite
his
continued
anti‐Islamic
rhetoric
Jones
now
speaks
with
a
much
 revised
hermeneutic
compared
to
when
his
ministries
website
and
church
(both
 now
shut
down)
first
began
airing
messages
and
videos
of
associates
bolding
 36
 mocking
Muslims
and
labeling
Islam
as
evil.

He
has
for
example,
called
attention
to
 the
importance
of
following
national
and
international
law
and
has
put
renewed
 emphasis
on
living
in
peace
and
respectful
dialogue
with
moderate
Muslim’s
while
 still
“standing
up”
to
the
extremist
versions
of
Islam
(Channel4News,
2010).


 Having
followed
the
story
as
it
unfolded
it
is
interesting
to
note
how
 unscripted
and
unostentatious
Jones
seems
to
be
while
interviewed.

Compared
to
 other
right
wing
religious
leaders
and
political
pundits
(like
for
example
Rush
 Limbaugh,
Glenn
Beck
and
Pat
Robertson),
Jones
seems
shy
and
naïve;
this
at
times
 visibly
frustrating
his
liberal
interviewers
who
often
seem
intent
on
calling
him
out
 as
a
racist
hate
monger
unwilling
to
divulge
his
true
agenda.

Jones
however,
 appears
continually
surprised
(even
hurt)
at
the
liberal
reaction
to
his
beliefs,
 confirming
that
both
he
and
the
populations
so
scandalized
by
him
have
very
little
 interest
in
understanding
of
one
another.

This
observation
does
nothing
to
excuse
 Jones’
offensive
attempt
to
give
moral
equivalence
to
the
burning
of
the
Quran
and
 the
building
of
an
interfaith
center
near
Ground
Zero
by
bargaining
with
a
far
more
 influential
moderate
Muslim
leader,
nor
does
it
lessen
the
incendiary
effect
of
the
 exclusivist
religious
belief
system
motivating
Jones’
continued
campaign.

It
points
 rather
to
the
evidence
for
potential
change
that
can
occur
when
ideologies
‘refract’
 through
one
another
and
across
the
felt
registers
of
being
that
inform
human
action
 and
intention.

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 37
 Fugitive
abundance:
How
to
navigate
between
objectivism
and
relativism
in
public
 discourse.
 It
is
a
rather
unfortunate
consequence
of
a
modern
secularism
that
the
 public
sphere
has
become
a
place
where
vying
constituents
mutually
‘use’
and
 manipulate
one
another
to
pursue
claims
of
pure
objectivity,
instead
of
the
space
in
 which
sincere
relationships
make
way
for
shifts
in
‘perspectival’
awareness.

In
the
 ‘ethos
of
engagement’
being
endorsed
here,
a
more
nuanced
path
is
hoped
for.

One
 that
navigates
between
the
conforming
demands
of
any
absolutism
(religious,
 scientific
or
political)
that
would
lay
claim
to
universal
understanding,
and
the
 apathy
of
a
relativism
where
tolerance
becomes
distorted
into
an
indifference
 toward
moral
standards
and
discipline.

For
such
a
‘space’
Connolly
(1995)
aptly
 calls
upon
a
“fugitive
abundance
of
being”
which,
 …judges,
the
ethos
it
cultivates
to
exceed
any
fixed
code
of
morality;
and
it
 cultivates
critical
responsiveness
to
different
ways

that
disturb
traditional
 virtues
of
a
community
and
the
normal
individual.
It
does
not
present
itself
 as
the
single
universal
to
which
other
ethical
traditions
must
bow.
Rather
it
 provides
a
prod
and
a
counter
point
to
them,
pressing
them
to
rethink
the
 ethics
of
engagement,
and,
crucially,
to
rework
relations
to
the
diversity
of
 ethical
sources
that
mark
pluralistic
culture.
(as
cited
in
Abeysekara,
2008,
p.
 167)
 
 
 Along
with
Abeysekara,
I
wish
to
further
the
image
of
the
fugitive
as
a
 pertinent
metaphor
for
the
renewed
secular‐spiritual
space
envisioned
in
Taylor’s
 ‘social
imaginary’,
Wilber’s
‘integral
spirituality’,
and
Connolly’s
‘ethos
of
 engagement’.

The
fugitive
is
by
definition
one
that
“flees”
from
the
burdens
of
past
 identities
but
is
always
being
re‐shaped
in
the
present
by
the
impossibility
of
such
a
 flight.
The
‘fugitive
abundance
of
being’,
which
characterizes
the
new
pluralism,
is
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 38
 thus
one
that
similarly
cannot
escape
the
history
that
is
its
inception
but
one
which
 nevertheless
takes
flight
into
the
inter‐subjective
processes
and
possibilities
that
 make
it
wholly
irreducible
to
both
its
past
and
future
trajectories.
 PART
II:

The
New
Conditions
of
Belief
for
Religion
and
Spirituality.
 
 Thus
far
endeavored
has
been
an
exploration
of
how
the
unintended
 persistence
of
religion
in
secular
societies
indicates
a
need
for
change
in
what
is
 perceived
as
valid
influences
upon
public
political
discourse.

A
turn
now
will
be
 made
to
investigate
how
both
the
exclusion
of
religion
in
the
public
sphere
has
and
 may
continue
to
further
broaden
and
transform
how
both
spirituality
and
religion
 is
understood
and
experienced
in
our
time.



 Death
of
the
Death
of
God:
Post­modernity
and
the
proliferation
of
religious
belief.

 During
a
November
2010
lecture
at
the
New
York
Public
Library
philosopher
 Slavoj
Žižek
offered
an
anecdote
for
the
kind
of
atheism
that
he
claims
 predominates
in
the
secular
western
world.

He
tells
the
story
of
a
man
finally
cured
 of
his
belief
that
he
was
a
‘grain
of
seed’
but
who
returns
to
his
psychiatrist
to
 report
that
he
is
still
terrified
of
chickens.

When
the
doctor
reminds
the
man
that
 he
is
no
longer
a
grain
of
seed,
the
man
replies
that
the
problem
is
not
a
matter
of
 his
belief
but
a
question
of
the
chicken’s
belief.

In
a
twist
so
infamous
of
Žižek
he
 goes
on
to
imply
that
while
many
people
have
been
confidently
convinced
that
 there
is
no
God
there
is
a
felt
suspicion
implicit
in
the
reaction
to
religion
in
public
 political
discourses
that
perhaps
God
has
not
yet
been
so
convinced
(minute
43). KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Intentional
and
systematic
inquiry
into
the
psychology
of
religion
is
 39
 generally
thought
to
have
begun
over
a
century
ago
with
William
James’
work,
The
 Varieties
of
Religious
Experience.

By
placing
focus
on
the
life‐world
of
individuals,
 James
distinguished
between
personal
religious
experience
and
the
 institutionalized
belief
systems
of
religion.

Unlike
many
before
and
after
him
he
did
 not
begin
with
a
religious
claim
and
then
ask
for
its
empirical
justification,
but
 proceeded
in
the
opposite
order
(Schneider,
2006,
p.
53).

This
distinction
is
still
 employed
in
contemporary
research
but
in
a
hundred
years
since,
attempts
to
 conceptualize
the
relationship
between
religious
belief
and
religious
experience
has
 proven
both
robust
and
controversial.

One
only
needs
to
recollect
the
infamous
 schism
between
Karl
Jung
and
Sigmund
Freud
for
an
example
of
the
bifurcations
 that
can
occur
trying
to
‘explain’
the
role
of
religion
in
the
‘psyche’.
 Complicating
a
coherent
understanding
of
religion
are
the
interpenetrating
 influences
of
secularization,
scientific
discovery,
post‐metaphysical
philosophy
and
 a
shifting
religious
landscape.

The
relegation
of
religion
to
the
private
sphere
has
 not
given
way
to
what
secular
theorists
once
predicted.

It
has
been
rather,
a
 catalyst
for
religious
and
spiritual
proliferation,
as
various
systems
of
belief
react
 differently
to
the
cross
pressures
put
on
it
by
secularization.
The
boundaries
 between
what
is
considered
sacred
and
secular,
religious
and
spiritual
are
thus
 more
resistant
to
definition
due
in
part
to
the
intricate
global
societal
prism
in
 which
knowledge
and
culture
are
refracted
and
dispersed
into
multiple
spectrums
 of
belief.

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 40
 Surveying
the
contemporary
options
for
spiritual
and\or
religious
belief
is
 like
peering
into
a
kaleidoscope.

Amongst
the
worlds
great
religions,
and
their
 array
of
institutions
and
denominations,
religious
fusions
and
fissions
are
taking
 place.

One
can
identify
as
a
Buddhist‐Christian
or
a
Christian‐Buddhist.

Practices
 such
as
yoga
and
meditation
are
now
broken
away
from
their
ancient
religious
 dogma
and
considered
by
some
to
be
mere
secular
activities
meant
to
maintain
 mental
and
physical
health.

Amid
this
acceleration
of
secular‐religious
syncretism
 is
a
hodgepodge
of
pagan,
native
and
new
age
spiritualities
in
which
experiences
of
 transcendence
can
be
just
as
easily
be
“this
worldly”
and\or
“other
worldly”.

In
and
 amongst
these
religions
and
spiritualities
are
metaphysical
and
post‐metaphysical
 philosophical
perspectives
in
which
atheists
can
be
viewed
as
fundamentalists
or
 committed
Christians,
and
theists
identified
as
evolutionary
biologists
or
dedicated
 anarchists.

 In
a
post‐secular
ethos
argues
continental
philosopher
John
Caputo
in
his
 book
On
Religion,
the
critique
of
religion
boomerangs
back
on
itself.

 Marx
and
Freud,
along
with
Nietzsche
himself,
find
themselves
hoisted
with
 Nietzsche’s
petard,
their
critiques
of
religion
having
come
undone
under
the
 gun
of
Nietzsche’s
critique
that
would
cut
to
the
quick
—of
God,
nature,
or
 history.
Enlightenment
secularism,
the
objectivist
reduction
of
religion
to
 something
other
than
itself
—say,
to
a
distorted
desire
for
one’s
mommy,
or
 to
a
way
to
the
ruling
authorities
in
power—
is
one
more
story
told
by
 people
with
historically
limited
imaginations,
with
contingent
conceptions
of
 reason
and
history,
of
economics
and
labor,
or
nature
and
human
desire,
 sexuality,
and
women,
and
of
God,
religion,
and
faith.
(2001,
pp.
59‐60)
 
 Caputo
thus
links
post‐modernism
with
that
of
the
post‐secular
calling
it
“a
 more
enlightened
Enlightenment
[that]
is
no
longer
taken
in
by
the
dream
of
Pure
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 41
 Objectivity.
.
.
.
It
has
a
post‐critical
sense
of
critique
that
is
critical
of
the
idea
that
 we
can
establish
air
tight
borders
around
neatly
discriminated
spheres
or
regions
 like
knowledge,
ethics,
art
and
religion”(p.
61).

While
secular
modernity
continues
 to
declare
the
death
of
God,
slamming
the
front
door
on
religion,
post‐modern
 suspicion
has
become
privy
to
‘upper‐room
sightings’
(my
words)
in
which
‘God’
 happens,
or
as
Caputo
says,
“what
happens…
is
the
event
that
is
harbored
in
the
 name
of
God,
which
is
why
we
want
to
cultivate
the
resources
in
this
name,
to
 nurture
and
shelter
them,
and
let
us
ourselves
be
nourished
by
their
force,
made
 warm
by
their
glow,
charged
by
their
intensities”
(Caputo,
et
al.,
2007,
p.
50).

For
 what
else
is
‘deconstruction’
claims
Caputo,
“but
the
work
of
analyzing
the
 phenomena
that
contain
what
they
cannot
contain
in
order
to
release
the
event
they
 (cannot)
contain?”
(p.
52).
 For
Caputo
the
important
question
is
not
whether
God
exists
any
more
than
 it
is
whether
desire
exists
(Armstrong,
p.
301).

Taking
cues
from
Jacque
Derrida,
 Caputo
provokes
a
“religion
without
religion”
by
asking
us
to
peer
in
between
what
 exists
and
what
does
not,
and
to
experience
the
space
between
the
presence
and
 absence
of
‘other’.

Such
an
‘asking’
is
not
new
but
akin
to
Saint
Augustine’s
 unanswered
confessional
query:

“What
do
I
love
when
I
love
my
God?”
 Spiritual
But
Not
Religious:

The
difficulty
of
differentiating
between
religion
and
 spirituality.

 
Census
data
collected
in
the
past
20
years
has
been
in
general
agreement
as
 to
the
steady
decline
of
attendance
in
the
mainline
religious
institutions
of
the
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 western
world.

Despite
this,
statistics
are
also
confirming
the
persistence
of
 religious
belief
as
well
as
a
separate
interest
in
the
spiritual.

What
this
has
 indicated
is
an
increase
in
alternative,
and
often
extremist
religious
and
spiritual
 42
 options
(as
mentioned
above),
as
well
as
an
increase
in
the
frequency
of
migration
 within
the
perceived
religious
and
secular
field
(Streib,
Hood,
Keller,
&
Csoff,
2009;
 Zinnbauer,
et
al.,
1997).
 The
difficulty
for
the
researcher
trying
to
map
out
all
these
secular‐spiritual
 migrations
or
theorize
about
their
importance,
is
that
there
is
little
consensus
on
 what
the
terms
religion
and
spirituality
should
mean
and
what
factors
should
 determine
their
operative
definitions.

Narrowing
classifications
for
the
purposes
of
 research
are
problematic
as
they
often
give
way
to
empirically
driven
programs
 that
are
reductionist
in
their
attempts
to
account
for
complex
social
and
 psychological
phenomena
(Canda,
2006;
Hill
&
Pargament,
2003;
Zinnbauer,
 Pargament,
&
Scott,
1999).

Nevertheless,
the
increased
reactions
to
modern
 secularism
(with
specific
reference
to
the
rise
of
‘closed
world
structures’
and
‘flat‐ land’
perspectives)
seem
only
to
have
amplified
the
interest
in
finding
new
ways
to
 conceptualize
spirituality
and
religion
so
as
to
understand
their
role
in
 psychological
development
and
health.


 Zinnbauer,
Pargament
and
Scott (1999),

who
are
among
a
committed

group
 of
researchers
in
this
field,

have
attempted
to
historically
map
the
ways
in
which
 researchers
and
respondents
have
understood
the
terms
religion
and
spirituality.

 Traditionally
the
terms
were
regarded
as
a
unified
“broad
band”
construct
that
was
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 explored
in
either
a
“substantive”
manner,
in
which
the
focus
was
placed
on
the
 content
of
religious
belief,
or
in
a
“functional”
manner,
in
which
the
focus
was
 placed
on
understanding
the
purpose
of
religion
for
individual’s.


Recent
studies
 however,
are
providing
evidence
that
the
two
terms
have
gradually
grown
 43
 polarized
from
one
another
into
a
variety
of
“narrow‐band”
constructs.

From
that
 variety
a
new
pattern
is
emerging
whereby
the
construct
of
religion
is
being
 subdivided
and
polarized
into
religiousness
and
spirituality.

A
general
 consequence
of
this
polarization
is
an
increasing
perception
that
spirituality
is
a
 positive
and
functional
aspect
of
self‐actualization
while
religion
is
negative,
 pertaining
to
the
substantive
aspects
of
formalized
belief
and
institutional
 conformity
(pp.
901‐904).

Three
of
these
polarizations
claim
Zinnbauer
et
al,
are
 particularly
salient,
“…organized
religion
versus
personalized
spirituality;
 substantive
religion
versus
functional
spirituality;
and
mundane
harmful
religion
 versus
lofty
helpful
spirituality”
(p.
901).

 Streib
et
al.
(2009)
in
an
extensive
study
called
Deconversion
found
that
of
 respondents
leaving
organized
religion,
two
thirds
American,
and
one
third
 German,
self‐identified
as
more
spiritual
than
religious.

By
way
of
questionnaire,
a
 faith
development
interview
and
a
comprehensive
narrative
interview,
the
 researchers
additionally
claim
to
have:
Identified
the
variety
of
exits
(“deconversion
 trajectories”)
taken
from
organized
religion:
heretical,
privatizing,
integrating,
 oppositional,
secularizing.

The
types
of
migration
narratives
of
the
respondents:
 pursuit
of
autonomy,
debarred
from
paradise,
finding
a
new
frame
of
reference,
life­ long
quest
–
late
revision.

And
the
most
influential
factors
influencing
migration:
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 44
 openness
to
new
experience,
personal
growth,
truth
of
texts
and
teachings.

Streib’s
et
 al.
findings
confirm,
along
with
other
such
studies
(Zinnbauer,
et
al.,
1997),
that
a
 higher
percentage
of
migrations
from
organized
religion
are
towards
unorganized
 ones
considered
spiritual
(as
opposed
to
religious
or
secular).

The
perspectives
 such
findings
offer
says
Streib
et
al.,


 indicate
that
a
‘more
spiritual’
self‐identification
perfectly
associates
with
 the
kind
of
openness
and
search
for
autonomy
which,
as
we
see
in
many
 deconversion
narratives,
has
lead
to
disaffiliation
from
organizations
of
the
 priest
or
prophet
and
to
a
search
for
something
different,
may
it
be
expected
 in
the
magician’s,
the
mystic’s
or
another
unorganized
religious
actor’s
 hemisphere
—or,
rather
traditionally,
outside
the
boundaries
of
the
religious
 field.
(p.
240)

 
 A
popular
way
to
articulate
the
above
mentioned
separation
between
 religion
and
spirituality
is
being
expressed
in
the
colloquial
phrase
‘the
spiritual
but
 not
religious’.
The
general
familiarity
of
this
phrase
in
western
culture
provides
ad
 hoc
evidence
of
both
the
negative
and
positive
effects
that
modern
secular
 discourse
has
had.

The
phrase
characterizes
a
resentment
towards
formations
of
 religion
that
would
seek
to
limit
freedom
through
an
abuse
of
dogma
and
priestly
or
 prophetic
authority
(Zinnbauer,
et
al.,
1997).

Additionally,
the
phrase
may
also
 indicate
—though
more
indirectly—
a
refusal
to
adhere
to
those
formations
of
the
 secular
that
have
tried
to
impose
similar
limits
through
its
dogmatic
bias
against
 the
religious.
‘The
spiritual
but
not
religious’
may
be
therefore,
understood
as
an
 emergent
form
of
post‐secular
defiance
against
the
science
and
reason
versus
 religion
and
superstition
discourse.

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Inversely
however,
a
criticism
of
‘the
spiritual
but
not
religious’
is
that
it
 further
reinforces
secularized
Euro‐Christian
value
systems
–even
as
it
renders
 45
 them
absent‐
by
tearing
spirituality
from
its
historical
(and
traditional)
moorings
 (Bender,
2010;
Wong
&
Vinsky,
2009).

In
this
sense
‘the
spiritual
but
not
religious’
 shifts
in
favor
of
the
secular
relegation
of
religion
to
the
private
sphere
by
yielding
 the
communal\cultural
strengths
of
religion
to
the
individualistic
qualities
of
 personal
spirituality.

Slavoj
Žižek
explores
both
the
hypocrisy
and
political
 ramifications
of
this
shift.
 Postcolonial
critics
like
to
dismiss
Christianity
as
the
“whiteness”
of
 religions:
the
presupposed
zero
level
of
normality,
of
the
“true”
religion,
with
 regard
to
which
all
other
religions
are
distortions
or
variations.
However,
 when
today’s
New
Age
ideologists
insist
on
the
distinction
between
religion
 and
spirituality
(they
perceive
themselves
as
spiritual,
not
part
of
any
 organizationed
religion),
they…
silently
impose
a
“pure”
procedure
of
Zen‐ like
spiritual
meditation
as
the
“whiteness”
of
religion….
Spiritual
 meditation,
in
its
abstraction
from
institutionalized
religion,
appears
today
 as
the
zero‐level
undistorted
core
of
religion:
the
complex
institutional
and
 dogmatic
edifice
which
sustains
every
particular
religion
is
dismissed
as
a
 contingent
secondary
coating
of
this
core.
The
reason
for
this
shift
of
accent
 from
religious
institution
to
the
intimacy
of
spiritual
experience
is
that
such
 a
meditation
is
the
ideological
form
that
best
fits
today’s
global
capitalism.
 (2009,
pp.
27‐28)
 
 

 Žižek’s
rhetoric
here
sounds
rather
conspiratorial—
as
it
often
does.
 Nevertheless,
a
point
is
made
that
religion
stripped
of
its
cultural,
historical
and
 communal
(ie.
public)
elements
to
a
private
personal
spirituality
can
ensure
quite
 well
that
potential
public
discourses
are
kept
repressed
by
the
secular
corporate
 material
agenda.
There
is
therefore,
concern
that
the
polarization
of
religion
and
 spirituality
enables
power
relations
that
ignore
the
complexities
that
keep
them
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 linked
(Hill,
et
al.,
2000;
Praglin,
2004;
Rothman,
2009).

The
effect
of
 understanding
religion
as
substantive
and
spirituality
as
functional
Zinnbaurer
 46
 points
out
is,
“losing
sight
of
the
individual
mission
of
the
religious
institution,
and
 the
social
context
of
spirituality….
[We
are
left
with]
a
static,
frozen
religion
and
a
 spirituality
without
a
core”
(1999,
p.
904).
 
 In
a
book
called,
The
New
Metaphysicals:
Spirituality
and
the
American
 Religious
Imagination
(2010),
Courtney
Bender
uses
narrative
interviewing
 techniques
to
explore
the
phenomena
of
‘the
spiritual
but
not
religious’.

Her
work
 strongly
suggests
that
spirituality
be
understood
as
ever
entangled
and
shaped
 within
discourses
and
practices
that
are
produced
in
numerous
institutional
fields
 including
the
religious
and
the
secular.

 Spirituality
emerges
over
and
over
in
our
collective
imaginations
as
free
 floating
and
individualistic.
Spirituality
appears
to
be
a
condition
of
modern
 life:
it
has
no
past,
no
organization,
no
clear
shape.
Studying
spirituality
thus
 appears
akin
to
shoveling
fog.

As
I
have
argued,
however,
we
can
no
longer
 conscientiously
reassert
these
positions,
or
the
problematic
logics
that
 continues
to
reinforce
them.
Instead,
we
must
approach
spirituality
and
‘the
 spiritual’
in
America
as
deeply
entangled
in
various
religious
and
secular
 histories,
social
structures,
and
cultural
practices.
(kindle
edition
3,598‐606)
 
 
While
not
wanting
to
reduce
the
positive
emancipatory
effect
that
the
‘the
 spiritual
but
not
religious’
discourse
is
having,
Wong
and
Vinsky
(2009)
make
a
 similar
plea.
They
argue
that
it
may
inadvertently
have
a
further
marginalizing
and
 silencing
effect
on
those
who
do
not
wish
to
separate
the
religious
expression
of
 their
history,
culture
and
community
from
their
spirituality.

They
proceed
to
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 challenge
two
leading
social
work
scholar’s
—
Canda
and
Furman
(2000)—
 polarizing
definitions
of
spirituality
and
religion.
 It
is
also
imperative
for
us
to
question
the
implications
of
languaging
 spirituality
as
located
within
the
personal,
private
and
inner
space
of
an
 individual.
Although
honoring
the
individual
languaging
of
a
client
in
 relation
to
their
spirituality
would
be
important
to
practice,
we
must
ask
 what
may
get
reproduced
when
the
individual
or
a
spiritual
practice
is
 separated
from
their
contexts
of
community
and
history.
(p.
13)
 
 47
 Recognizing
and
addressing
the
oppressive
potentiality
in
‘the
spiritual
but
 not
religious’,
discourse
Hill
et
al.
(2000)
have
proposed
a
set
of
criteria
for
defining
 spirituality
and
religion.

A
feature
of
this
criteria
is
to
insist
that
spirituality
be
 understood
as
involving
the
search
for
the
“sacred”
which
for
them
means
the
 pursuit
of
a
manifestation
of
the
Divine
or
of
the
Ultimate
in
some
form
(p.
66).


 Religion
shares
this
search
for
the
sacred,
but
adds
other
features
having
to
do
with
 non‐sacred
goals
as
well
as
the
means,
methods,
rituals
and
an
identifiable
 community.


Thus,
for
Hill
et
al.,
religion
and
spirituality
can
“co‐occur”
in
that
one
 can
be
spiritual
without
being
religious,
but
not
religious
without
being
spiritual.

 Those
scholars
and
researchers
who
advocate
for
spirituality
(or
 religiousness)
and
against
religiousness
(or
spirituality)
ignore
the
reality
 that
these
phenomena
are
inherently
intertwined.
They
risk
losing
sight
of
 the
empirical
data
already
gathered
in
studies
of
both
phenomena,
and
can
 thereby
close
the
door
to
future
opportunities
to
explore
the
similarities
and
 differences
between
the
constructs.
(p.
72)
 
 
 Agreeing
that
religion
and
spirituality
co‐occur
is
philosopher
Paul
Connelly
 (1996).

His
description
for
religion
share
characteristics
with
Hill
et
al.
(2000),
but
 renders
‘the
sacred’
as
distinct
from
‘the
spiritual’
in
which
emphasis
is
placed
on
 the
perception
of
a
self‐other
dynamic
rather
than
on
the
search
for
the
sacred.

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 48
 Connelly’s
description
of
the
spiritual
—thought
still
inseparable
from
religion—
is
 more
inclusive
of
those
who
identify
with
the
secular
more
so
than
the
sacred
but
 nevertheless
see
themselves
as
‘spiritual’.
 The
spiritual
is
a
perception
of
the
commonality
of
mindfulness
in
the
 world
that
shifts
the
boundaries
between
self
and
other,
producing
a
sense
 of
the
union
of
purposes
of
self
and
other
in
confronting
the
existential
 questions
of
life,
and
providing
a
mediation
of
the
challenge‐response
 interaction
between
self
and
other,
one
and
many,
that
underlies
existential
 questions.
(para.
10)
 The
sacred
is
a
mysterious
manifestation
of
power
and
presence
that
is
 experienced
as
both
primordial
and
transformative,
inspiring
awe
and
rapt
 attention.
This
is
usually
an
event
that
represents
a
break
or
discontinuity
 from
the
ordinary,
forcing
a
re‐establishment
or
recalibration
of
perspective
 on
the
part
of
the
experiencer,
but
it
may
also
be
something
seemingly
 ordinary,
repeated
exposure
to
which
gradually
produces
a
perception
of
 mysteriously
cumulative
significance
out
of
proportion
to
the
significance
 originally
invested
in
it.
(para.
7)
 Religion
originates
in
an
attempt
to
represent
and
order
beliefs,
feelings,
 imaginings
and
actions
that
arise
in
response
to
direct
experience
of
the
 sacred
and
the
spiritual.
As
this
attempt
expands
in
its
formulation
and
 elaboration,
it
becomes
a
process
that
creates
meaning
for
itself
on
a
 sustaining
basis,
in
terms
of
both
its
originating
experiences
and
its
own
 continuing
responses.
(para.
5)
 
 Connelly
accounts
for
exclusion
of
the
sacred
in
his
description
of
spirituality
by
 claiming
that
the
sacred
and
the
spiritual
can
at
times
pull
in
opposite
directions

— the
former
toward
demarcations
and
exceptions
and
the
later
toward
 commonalities
and
blurred
boundaries.
(para.
12)
 The
Sacred
and
the
Secular:
The
role
of
religion
and
spirituality
in
a
post­secular
 ethos.
 The
pervasiveness
of
‘the
spiritual
but
not
religious’
discourse
offers
unique
 evidence
of
the
growing
discontent
with
the
borders
that
both
modern
secularism
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 49
 and
religion
have
provided
for
the
secular
and
the
sacred.

In
his
book
The
Future
Of
 Faith,
Harvard
scholar
Harvey
Cox
refers
to
emerging
forms
of
spirituality
without
 religion
as
a
move
towards
“horizontal
transcendence”
and
“…the
discovery
of
the
 sacred
in
the
immanent,
the
spiritual
within
the
secular.”
(2009,
p.
2)

It
may
also
be
 argued
therefore,
that
a
differentiated
understanding
of
religion
and
spirituality
 may
invite
a
broader
and
more
nuanced
re‐integration
of
these
shifting
constructs
 into
the
public
sphere
through
the
new
perspectives
they
offer
the
relationship
 between
the
secular
and
the
sacred.

For
example,
it
may
gradually
diminish
the
 negative
effects
of
‘closed
world
structures’
(or
flat‐land
perspectives)
represented
 in
a
secularity
that
repress
through
indifference,
the
desire
for
and
public
 expression
of,
the
experience
of
transcendence
(or
desire
for
‘fullness’).
That
one
 can
be
spiritual
but
not
necessarily
given
to
the
religious
thus
deconstructs
the
 notion
that
experiences
and
expressions
of
‘spirit’
are
always
irrational,
 superstitious
and
anti\non‐scientific
(including
even
‘religious’
ones).


A
great
 example
of
this
occurred
in
ABC
Nightline
debate
The
Future
of
God,
between
public
 writer
and
new
age
physician
Deepak
Chopra
and
atheist
writer
Sam
Harris.

During
 the
debate
Chopra
had
to
correct
Harris’
attempts
to
project
a
pre‐modern
mythic
 version
of
God
onto
Chopra’s
more
nuanced
scientific
inspired
conceptions
 (Nightline,
March
2010).
 In
like
fashion,
a
differentiated
understanding
of
spirituality
and
religion
 might
chasten
forms
of
religiousness
that
collapse
faith
into
belief,
convert
sacred
 texts
into
sources
of
epistemic
fact
and
attempt
hegemonic
control
over
the
 spiritual.


The
idea
that
one
cannot
be
religious
without
being
spiritual
confronts
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 religion
by
emphasizing
the
unifying
trans‐cultural
qualities
of
faith.
It
also
 50
 indirectly
challenges
the
fundamentalist
focus
on
ethnic
particularities,
but
without
 diminishing
the
roles
these
play
in
religious
expression.


 Ken
Wilber
(2011),
who
has
written
much
on
this
subject,
argues
for
a
 spirituality
that
moves
beyond
the
secular‐sacred
impasse.

 [T]he
premodern
experiences
of
Spirit—by
the
great
shamans,
saints,
and
 sages…were
of
necessity
clothed
in
the
fabric
of
their
own
time….
The
 premodern
interpretative
frameworks
all
tended
to
be
mythic,
metaphysical,
 substance‐oriented,
and
postulated
a
pantheon
of
pre‐existing
ontological
 structures
(whether
in
the
form
of
a
Great
Chain
of
Being
or
the
form
of
a
 Great
Web
of
Life)—which,
ironically,
is
an
interpretive
framework
that
 amounted
to
a
type
of
higher,
spiritual,
transpersonal
myth
of
the
given— exactly
the
epistemology
so
effectively
deconstructed
by
postmodernism— so
that
the
typical
new‐paradigm
approaches
exalting
such
frameworks
are
 actually
advancing
an
epistemological
prejudice
no
longer
capable
of
 generating
respect.
(para.
9)
 
 Wilber
(not
unlike
Caputo)
thus
argues
for
an
integral
post‐metaphysical
 spirituality

 …which
possesses
the
explanatory
power
of
the
great
metaphysical
systems
 but
without
their
ontological
baggage
(which
cannot
be
sustained
in
modern
 and
postmodern
awareness—not
philosophically,
not
critically,
not
 phenomenologically,
not
scientifically).
Instead
of
attacking
the
paucity
of
 the
modern
and
postmodern
worldviews—which
is
the
standard
move
by
 spiritual
and
new‐paradigm
advocates—it
is
perhaps
more
adept
to
 reformulate
and
reconstruct
the
premodern
interpretations
of
Spirit
in
light
 of
modern
and
postmodern
developments...
(para.
8)
 
 While
such
visions
for
post‐metaphysical
spirituality
are
gaining
more
 interest
they
are
as
yet
a
rarity
that
will
have
to
be
content
to
be
alongside
the
other
 metaphysical
(onto‐theological)
views
that
persist
in
both
the
religious
and
secular
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 51
 domains.

Navigating
the
busy
waters
of
this
vast
ocean
of
secular‐spiritual
options
 is
not
only
difficult
for
the
researcher
but
also
for
the
practitioner
looking
for
ways
 to
integrate
or
be
inclusive
of
spirituality
in
their
work
with
people
struggling
to
 traverse
the
very
same
waters.


A
turn
now
will
be
made
to
investigate
one
such
 model
for
understanding
spiritual
change.
 Faith
Development:
The
limitations
of
attempting
to
understand
spiritual
change.
 Combined
evidences
from
both
within
and
outside
of
psychology
all
seem
to
 point,
under
different
sets
of
justifications,
to
the
role
of
spirituality
and
religion
as
 a
crucially
important
but
neglected
aspect
of
research
in
psychology,
social
work,
 counselling
and
education
(Astin,
Astin,
&
Lindholm,
2010;
Canda
&
Furman,
2000;
 Carlson,
Kirkpatrick,
Hecker,
&
Killmer,
2002;
Furman,
Benson,
Canda,
&
 Grimwood,
2005;
Hood,
Hill,
&
Williamson,
2005;
Kahle
&
Robbins,
2004;
Kane
&
 Jacobs,
2010;
Praglin,
2004;
Streib,
et
al.,
2009).


In
the
field
of
psychology,
 approaches
to
religion
have
traditionally
been
taken
up
in
ways
that
are
 pathologizing
of
religious
belief
and
experience
(Lukoff,
Lu,
&
Turner,
1992).

One
 difficulty
of
this
approach
is
whether
or
what
religious
or
spiritual
beliefs
(and
 experiences)
are
exempted
from
being
considered
delusional
(as
the
DSM
requires).

 In
the
results
of
a
study
by
Conner
and
Vandenberg
(2010)
it
was
found
that
 advanced
clinical
training
may
not
significantly
impact
the
assessment
of
religious
 beliefs.


 [C]onventionality
is
a
major
factor
influencing
both
clinicians’
and
non‐ clinicians’
assessment
of
pathology
of
religious
beliefs.

Thus
a
seminal
 construct
of
the
field
of
mental
health—psychosis—
may
be,
in
practice,
if
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 52
 not
in
theory,
more
defined
by
relativistic
social
norms
than
any
veridical,
or
 at
least
discernable,
mental
or
biological
pathology.
(p.
183)
 
 
 In
the
field
of
psychological
development
there
have
also
been
efforts
to
 measure
and
explain
faith.

The
standout
in
this
endeavor
is
“Faith
Development
 Theory”.

Conceived
in
the
1970’s
by
James
Fowler,
this
theory
represents
a
 formalized
attempt
to
make
an
important
distinction
between
faith
and
religious
 belief.

Using
a
definition
similar
to
preceding
theologian
Paul
Tillich
(1957),
Fowler
 conceptualized
faith
in
terms
of
a
person
or
group’s
way
of
finding
“coherence
and
 giving
meaning
to
the
multiple
forces
that
make
up
our
lives”
(Fowler,
1995,
p.
4).

 Faith
is
thus
implied
as
a
“temperament”
of
trusting
concern

‐a
way
of
‘knowing’
 that
may
not
be
necessarily
characterized
as
religious.

 In
his
1981
book
Stages
of
Faith
Fowler
presents
this
notion
of
faith
as
a
 psychological
theory
(not
just
a
theological
idea)
based
on
six
hierarchically
 situated
stages
influenced
by
the
structural
developmental
perspectives
of
Jean
 Piaget’s
cognitive
development
theory
and
Lawrence
Kohlberg’s
theory
of
moral
 reasoning.

Faith
development
theory
has
been
utilized
mostly
in
the
fields
of
 Christian
education,
pastoral
care
and
psychology.

More
recently
however,
 Fowler’s
work
—in
the
midst
of
being
caught
up
in
the
post‐structural
criticism
of
 developmental
psychology—
has
been
re‐interpreted
by
those
seeking
to
apply
 aspects
of
the
theory
to
a
larger
more
sociological
context.

Standing
out
is
the
work
 of
Wilber
and
Streib
(mentioned
above)
both
of
whom
have
attempted
to
revise
and
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 53
 re‐use
Fowler’s
theory
to
guide
research
into
spiritual
(or
religious)
development
 with
specific
reference
to
religious
fundamentalism.


 Despite
Fowler’s
own
attempts
to
address
the
challenges
brought
by
post‐ modern
deconstruction
and
perspective
taking
(Fowler,
2001;
Fowler,
2004),
Streib
 joins
company
with
those
seeking
a
new
‘wineskin’
for
‘faith
development
theory’
 without
dismissing
it
or
Fowler
completely
(Rizzuto,
2001;
Streib,
2001a,
2001b,
 2003,
2005;
Streib,
Hood,
&
Klein,
2010).

Streib
quotes
Gil
Noam
as
summarizing
 his
critique
of
Fowler’s
version
of
faith
development
theory.

 It
is
my
view
that
cognitively
based
theorists
have
overlooked
the
central
 structuring
activities
of
the
self
by
defining
the
epistemic
self
as
the
sole
 representative
of
structure.

In
the
process,
I
believe
the
cart
was
placed
 before
the
horse,
life
history
became
the
structure
of
the
epistemic
self.
 Epistemology
replaced
life
history.
(as
cited
in

Streib,
2001a,
p.
144)
 
 Streib
(2001a)
thus
takes
issue
with
faith
development
theory’s
ties
with
 modern
cognitive
development
theories
and
takes
a
‘narrative’
turn.

He
proceeds
 and
elaborates
on
the
above‐mentioned
critique
of
faith
development
theory
by
 drawing
heavily
on
narrative
methods
of
inquiry.
Through
such
techniques
are
 explored
the
interpersonal,
psychodynamic
and
social
relationships
that
determine
 what
he
prefers
to
call
“internal
pluralism
of
multilayered
religious
styles”.


A
 feature
of
these
‘styles’
is
that
they
need
not
conform
to
Fowler’s
assertion
that
faith
 developments
occur
as
invariant,
sequential
and
hierarchical.

 A
multilayeredness
of
religious
styles,
which
can
be
designated
as
internal
 pluralism,
corresponds
to
the
determined
more‐perspectiveness.
The
so‐ called
milestone
model,
brought
into
discussion
by
Loevinger
(1976),
is
 therefore
better
suited
to
illustrate
religious
style
development
than
stage‐ KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 54
 wise,
ascending
models.
The
milestone
model
draws
the
respective
style
as
a
 rising
curve
that
descends
again
after
a
culminating
point
and
persists
on
a
 lower
level,
whereas
the
subsequent
styles
attain
their
own
climaxes.
From
 such
developmental
perspective,
there
are
no
plausible
reasons,
either,
why
 a
certain
style
should
not,
at
least
as
precursor,
develop
earlier
than
 structural–developmental
theories
normally
assume,
but
especially
that
a
 potential
relevance
of
a
certain
style
continues
after
its
biographical
peak.
(p.
 149)
 
 Streib
thus
argues
that
hierarchy
in
structures
of
development
need
to
be
 “differentiated”
and
that
claims
of
invariance
and
sequentiality
need
to
be
modified
 to
suit
the
unique
circumstances
of
the
individual’s
intersubjective
world.

A
person
 may
persist
or
even
regress
into
a
given
style
based
on
biographical
rather
than
 biological
circumstances.
With
heavy
reference
to
the
work
of
Gil
Noam,
Ana‐
Maria
 Rizzuto
and
to
Fowler,
Streib
describes
the
features
of
religious
styles.

What
 follows
is
a
brief
review.
 The
Subjective
Religious
Style

(Fowler’s
intuitive–projective
faith)
 corresponds
to
the
subjective‐physical
self
in
childhood.
Here
the
formation
of
basic
 trust
takes
place
through
the
symbiotic
relationship
with
the
caregiver.
Fantasy,
 feeling
and
images
arise
and
thus
create
patterns
that
are
given
to
representations
 of
God
that
produce
feelings
of
acceptance
as
well
as
guilt
and
shame
(pp.
150‐151).


 
The
instrumental–reciprocal
or
“do­ut­des”
religious
style
(Fowler’s
Mythic‐ literal
faith),
makes
use
of
a
differentiation
between
the
inner
and
outer
self
to
 form,
“the
basic
pattern
for
both
the
interpersonal
and
the
God–human
 relationship:
“Good”
is
what
God
and
the
authority
persons
wish
and
demand;
“bad”
 is
what
results
in
punishment
and
mischief;
means
of
trade
are
obedience
and
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 55
 fulfillment
of
religious
commandment”
(p.
151).
Religious
images
and
feelings
are
 converted
into
stories
and
myths
that
are
taken
literally.

In
childhood
this
is
 considered
“normal”
whereas
in
adulthood
this
particular
style
manifests
the
 central
characteristics
of
the
fundamentalist.


 In
the
Mutual
religious
style
(Fowler’s
Synthetic‐convention
faith)
the
 interpersonal
horizon
expands
to
value
and
rely
on
a
mutuality
of
relationships
in
 which
one’s
religious
group
becomes
the
unquestioned
source
of
security.

 Conceptions
of
God
tend
also
to
become
more
personal.


 The
Individuative­systemic
style
(Fowler’s
Individuative‐reflective
faith)
 marks
a
shift
in
a
person’s
ability
to
reflect
critically
on
religion
in
such
a
way
as
to
 allow
for
a
more
individualized
(less
conformist)
and
rational
system
of
belief.

God,
 society,
religion
all
have
well‐defined
roles.
One
is
able
to
defend
their
views
and
 give
reasons
for
one’s
faith
and
doubts.

 Finally,
the
Dialogical
religious
style
(Fowler’s
Conjunctive
faith),
where
a
 new
openness
to
other
develops,
upon
which
contradictions
and
differences
 between
systems
of
belief
do
not
necessarily
result
in
exclusion
or
conflict.
This
 style
represents
a
“second
naïveté”
(Ricoeur)
and
a
reemergence
of
basic
trust
in
 which
symbolic
power
and
myth
is
taken
up
and
re‐united
with
conceptual
 meanings.


 In
Fowler’s
system
a
rare
sixth
Universalizing
faith
stage
is
proposed
 whereby,
“the
persons
best
described
by
it
have
generated
faith
compositions
in
 which
their
felt
sense
of
an
ultimate
environment
is
inclusive
of
all
being.
They
have
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 56
 become
incarnators
and
actualizers
of
the
spirit
of
an
inclusive
and
fulfilled
human
 community”
(1995,
pp.
200‐201).

In
this
universalized
form
of
self‐actualizing
 faith,
persons
cultivate
a
genuine
acceptance
of
others
at
any
stage
(or
style)
of
 faith.

In
not
providing
a
sixth
religious
style
Streib
is
responding
to
one
of
the
main
 criticisms
of
Fowler’s
work
(and
that
of
the
concept
of
self‐actualization
or
 Enlightenment)
that
such
a
stage
is
not
empirically
derived.


Fowler
himself
has
 even
referred
to
the
stage
as
“a
kind
of
abstract
poetry”
(Fowler,
Keen,
&
Berryman,
 1978,
p.
90).

 
 Streib’s
adaptations
to
faith
development
theory
can
be
admired
for
its
 attempt
to
break
free
from
the
constraints
of
developmental
structuralism
and
take
 seriously
the
post‐structural
emphasis
on
the
inseparability
of
form
and
content
in
 the
life‐world
of
persons.

As
a
descriptive
system
it
perpetuates
the
already
 intriguing
insights
of
faith
development
theory.

That
there
may
be
persistent
 ‘patterns’
and
perhaps
even
identifiable
‘styles’
to
the
way
people
hold
their
beliefs
 says
something
about
the
importance
of
gaining
a
fuller
understanding
of
the
role
of
 faith.

It
potentially
takes
the
focus
off
the
more
common
pursuit
of
trying
to
 determine
what
beliefs
are
true
or
false
and
puts
it
onto
the
function
of
belief
in
 human
meaning
making
and
spiritual
change.

 Streib’s
religious
styles
however,
do
not
escape
entirely
from
a
post‐ structuralist
critique
especially
as
they
are
derived
heavily
from
a
psychodynamic
 perspective.

The
question
of
how
‘styles’
emerge
and
are
succeeded
(or
regressed
 into)
remains
a
particularly
challenging
issue.

Even
if
there
are
persistent
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 57
 regularities
to
the
way
people
hold
their
beliefs
in
light
of
faith
(basic
trust)
there
is
 a
tendency
says
David
Heywood
(2008)
to
reproduce
the
modern
misconception
 “that
there
can
be
an
objectively
guaranteed
source
of
knowledge
more
reliable
 than
the
beliefs
and
values
arising
from
religious
commitment
and
against
which
 they
are
capable
of
being
judged”
(p.
269).

 The
danger,
even
for
a
revised
faith
development
theory,
is
for
its
 descriptions
of
religiousness
to
be
prescriptive
in
ways
that
do
not
account
for
the
 evolving
context
of
values
and
beliefs
in
which
the
research
is
conducted
and
 conclusions
drawn.

Streib’s
sensitivity
to
the
complex
social
space
through
which
 people
develop
is
clearly
compromised
by
his
own
silence
on
the
beliefs
and
values
 that
motivate
his
work.

Such
a
silence
actually
harkens
to
the
fallacy
of
secular
 neutrality
(objectivity)
mentioned
earlier.

Additionally,
Streib’s
choice
to
drop
 Fowler’s
definition
and
use
of
faith
(as
differentiated
from
belief
and
religion)
and
 adopt
the
notion
of
religious
styles
seems
to
reinforce
an
exemption
for
those
who
 do
not
identify
as
religious.

Is
this
to
say
that
those
observable
phenomena
that
 pertain
to
how
persons
organize
and
hold
their
beliefs
about
self
and
other,
do
not
 apply
to
those
who
identify
as
secular?

Do
secular
persons
not
also
organize
and
 hold
beliefs
in
faith?

Streib’s
earlier
cited
work
on
deconversion
is
suspect
on
these
 grounds
as
well.
The
notion
of
‘deconversion’
and
the
‘field
of
religious
migration’
 from
which
there
is
a
clear
‘secular
exit’
infer
a
clear
delineation
between
the
 religious
and
the
secular
that
has
already
been
shown
to
be
highly
contestable
 historically
and
a
weak
representation
of
the
current
variety
of
positions
and
 perspectives
available.
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 These
challenges
also
apply
to
Hill,
Pargament
and
Zinnbauer’s
 understandings
of
the
religious
and
spiritual.

My
impression
is
that
they
are
 unaware
of
the
extent
that
their
work
may
be
a
product
of
the
shifting
 developments
they
are
trying
to
study.

Recipients
of
their
research
are
not
 58
 informed
of
the
values
and
beliefs
that
are
implicit
in
the
interpretations
they
give
 to
their
observations.
So,
while
their
research
is
motivated
by
the
exploration
of
 dynamic
phenomena,
their
conclusions
seem
to
work
for
a
discernable
stasis
meant
 to
correspond
directly
to
‘the
truth’
of
experience.

It
is
not
the
credibility
of
their
 methods
of
observation
being
critiqued
here
(its
not
about
demanding
more
 objectivity)
but
rather
the
implicit
neutrality
from
which
they
purport
to
be
 interpreting
their
observations.
 Autoethnographic
Accounts
 
 The
following
narrative
letters
are
meant
to
effectively
bridge
the
 observations
and
insights
made
thus
far
with
those
I
intend
to
make
with
regard
to
 narrative
therapy
(Part
III).

These
short
‘re‐tellings’
of
my
life
strongly
reflect
the
 evolving
values
and
beliefs
that
motivate
and
inform
the
research
in
this
paper.

 Readers
may
take
notice
of
how
my
experiences
from
childhood
into
adulthood
 illustrate
the
effect
of
the
religious
and
secular
pressures
already
discussed.

My
 faith
journey
from
a
fundamentalist
religious
perspective
toward
a
more
nuanced
 spirituality
is
both
provoked
and
constrained
by
these
cross
pressures.

 Narrative
therapy,
it
will
be
shown
can
welcome
conversations
and
 questions
like
those
exemplified
in
these
letters.

The
interviewer
(Alison)
does
not
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 59
 hesitate
to
use
her
own
curiosity
to
ask
questions
which
allow
me
to
further
reflect
 on
the
way
I
hold
my
beliefs
and
consequently
live
out
my
values.

 Narrative
Letter
A
 
 Dear
Leland,

 It
was
a
pleasure
to
chat
with
you
this
afternoon,
and
I
look
forward
to
more
 conversations
that
hopefully
help
to
further
thicken
the
autobiographical
aspect
of
 your
thesis
work
on
the
topic
of
narrative
therapy
as
a
post‐secular
practice.

I
very
 much
enjoyed
the
lively
cadence
of
your
storytelling,
tempered
by
slower
spells
of
 pensive
reflection
and
absorbed
sentimentality.

There
were
instances
during
your
 personal
account
that
affected
me
emotively
and
rather
unexpectedly,
and
this
I
 attribute
to
the
bidirectional
influence
narrative
practices
can
have
on
both
client
 and
practitioner
(particularly
as
I
too,
share
a
similar
evangelical
Christian
 pedigree).
 Your
retelling
began
in
Bible‐belt
Canada,
growing
up
in
an
evangelical
Christian
 family
on
a
guest
ranch
in
Three
Hills,
Alberta.
Privy
to
idyllic
surroundings,
you
 talked
about
being
closely
aligned
with
the
outdoors
and
your
fond
memories
for
 this
alfresco
exposure:
down‐hill
skiing,
building
forts,
and
winter
dog‐sledding
 with
your
dad’s
team
of
Siberian
Huskies.

 You
recalled
the
influence
of
this
religiously‐infused
childhood:
sitting
in
the
front
 row
pews
at
church,
parents
who
sang
in
the
morning
service,
attending
Christian
 Service
Brigade,
having
a
strong
impression
of
your
conversion
encounter
which
 you
describe
as
‘becoming
saved’….
As
well,
you
described
a
baptismal
experience
at
 age
10
which
you
referred
to
as
‘a
feeling
of
being
set
free’,
‘a
sort
of
right
of
passage’,
 ‘a
profound
spiritual
experience’.
While
you
were
describing
this
baptismal
event,
I
 couldn’t
help
but
note
your
exceptional
fervency
and
in‐the‐moment
conviction
of
 it’s
significance
while
you
relayed
the
experience‐
it
certainly
felt
as
though
for
you
 this
was
a
monumental
affirmation
of
your
Christian
experience,
in
particular
when
 you
suggested
it
was,
‘my
submission
to
God’s
ownership
over
me’.

 I
wonder
now,
thirty
years
later,
how
do
you
make
sense
of
this
baptism
 experience?
Do
you
still
experience
Christian
symbols
in
a
visceral
way?
 And
if
this
Christian
experience
of
baptism
(at
the
age
of
10)
still
does
 reverberate
in
your
life
today,
what
do
you
propose
has
carried
it
safely
into
the
 present
given
the
numerous
evolutions
your
faith
has
sustained
over
the
years?
 Speaking
of
your
elementary
school
years,
you
described
daily
car
rides
with
your
 dad
(who
was
a
teacher
at
your
school)
during
which
you
shared
conversations
that
 made
it
clear
there
was
some
kind
of
distinction
that
set
your
family
apart
from
 others‐
a
particular
language
and
expression
of
beliefs
which
had
you
recognizing
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 60
 that
you
were
religious
and
under
‘a
different
gaze’.
You
remembered
hearing
your
 dad
talk
of
his
struggles
working
as
a
Christian
educator
in
a
secular
environment
 and
his
ethics
concerning
smoking
and
drinking
(as
his
colleagues
did).
I
was
 curious
if
this
experience
of
feeling
set
apart
and
different
was
something
you
were
 proud
or
ashamed
of?
You
suggested
it
was
mixed:
‘it
made
you
feel
proud
yet
was
 also
distressing….’

 I’d
be
interested
to
hear
how
you
might
expand
on
this
religious­infused
 childhood?...
Looking
back,
what
would
you
list
as
some
of
the
more
 consequential
effects
of
religion
on
your
experience
of
growing
up?

 Do
these
effects
still
affect
you
even
today?
And
if
so,
how
would
you
evaluate
 these
affects?
Positive,
negative,
or
neutral?
 ‘The
Gaze’
followed
you
to
Edmonton,
Alberta
when
your
family
moved
in
response
 to
your
dad’s
feeling
‘called’
to
the
pastorate.

‘Everything
changed’
for
you
here,
and
 as
a
result
of
moving
from
rural
to
urban,
while
at
the
same
time
moving
into
 adolescence,
your
religiously
held
beliefs
were
exposed
and
confronted
on
new
 levels.

 While
subtly
cringing
at
it’s
vivid
memory,
you
re‐live
those
junior
high
school
days
 of
wondering
‘why
you
couldn’t
fit
in’?’;
the
intuition
that
‘there
was
something
I
 wasn’t
getting
about
the
world
and
other
people’
that
left
you
feeling
‘naïve’
and
 ‘different’.


 Feeling
condemned
about
kissing
a
girl
(sinful,
according
to
your
Christian
beliefs,
 even
though
wanting
to
do
it
to
fit
in)‐
to
feeling
affirmed
of
your
faith
and
beliefs
 when
at
summer
camp
and
your
best
friend
Tyler
‘became
a
Christian’
(thus,
 justifying
that
your
faith
could
claim
a
legitimate
place
among
your
peers)‐
were
 examples
you
provided
of
the
constant
pendulum
swing
that
marked
your
junior
 high
school
years.


 As
the
dialogue
between
us
continued,
you
span
through
the
next
few
years
of
high
 school
where
your
full
conversion
experience
‘from
farm
boy
to
urban
street
rat’
 translated
into
smoking
pot,
participating
in
hooligan
behaviors,
and
choosing
to
 identify
yourself
with
a
rebellious
fringe
group
called
the
‘SST’
who
possessed
a
 popular
reputation
as
‘creative,
off­the­wall,
hack
philosophers’
with
an
‘ideology
 behind
our
behaviors’.
Through
the
influence
of
these
peers
who
you
‘loved
deeply’,
 you
became
‘the
ultimate
teenage
narcissist’,
yet
understanding
that
‘what
held
me
 and
kept
me
different
was
that
I
believed
that
there
was
a
God
that
had
a
plan
for
me;
 and
I
believed
that
I
wasn’t
in
control,
actually’.
As
a
result
of
these
diabolically
 positioned
belief
systems,
you
played
out
a
‘schizophrenic
existence’
where
‘I
tried
to
 get
what
I
wasn’t
allowed
as
a
Christian’
but
then,
‘not
really
an
anarchist,
but
posing
 as
one’,
‘not
fitting
in
’
(with
atheist
friends),
and
feeling
as
there
was
‘no
feasible
 way
to
bring
these
things
together’.
You
describe
participating
in
a
kind
of
 ‘experiment’
to
‘push
that
limit
of…
wanting
to
get
it,
but
at
the
same
time
knowing
I
 couldn’t
get
it
because
I
was
owned
by
God…
God
owned
me…God
was
bigger,
more
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 61
 powerful…God
had
bigger
plans,
knew
more,
and
I
was
subject
to
that,
to
God.‘
This
 lived
out
duality
found
you
traversing
worlds‐
continuing
to
participate
within
 church
youth
group
circles,
and
in
the
same
night,
tearing
out
of
the
church
parking
 lot
with
the
SST
to
smoke
weed
and
get
drunk
at
punk
rock
shows.

 Your
summation
of
this
precarious
position
was
as
follows:
‘It
was
like
I
was
riding
 this
razor
edge
between
like,
loosing
my
salvation
but
also
experiencing
life­
like
they
 really
were
pitted
against
one
another
in
some
ways…
I
think
I
intuitively,
I
knew
they
 were
somewhat
related,
but
in
the
belief
system
it
was
all
framed
in,
there
wasn’t
 room
for
that
kind
of
analysis’.
 Upon
further
reflection
of
your
metaphor,
‘razor’s
edge’,
I
am
curious
to
know
 what
you
think
this
ability
to
keep
your
balance
between
two
worlds
says
about
 you
and
your
capabilities
at
the
time?

 Do
you
feel
you
still
possess
this
knowledge/
skill/
ability
today
in
the
way
you
 hold
your
beliefs/
morals/
values/
ideas?
 Your
longing
for
acceptance
prevailed
with
the
SST
as
it
did
in
your
junior
high
 days,
and
although
you
were
‘funny’,
‘goofy’,
‘clever’,
‘crazy’,
and
‘did
anything
 anyone
dared
me
to
do’,
you
still
desired
to
be
accepted
by
your
peers,
and
full
 acceptance
was
no
less
than
knowing
your
friends
understood
you
and
accepted/
 adopted
your
belief
system.
Despite
being
mocked
and
persecuted
by
the
guys,
you
 continued
to
dogmatically
argue
their
‘easy
relativism’,
pluralism,
and
atheistic/
 nihilistic
beliefs.

 Borrowing
from
a
transcript
of
our
dialogue,
can
I
remind
you
of
a
juncture
in
our
 interview
during
which
we
both
seemed
to
distinguish
poignant
in
the
way
it
 provides
an
articulate
expression
of
this
belonging/
belief
phenomena?
 A:
So
it
sounds
like
you…
you
know,
even
if
you’re
kind
of
challenging
their
(SST
 friend’s)
ideologies
or
belief
systems,
you
still
somehow
felt
safe
enough
with
them
 that
you
could
do
that…that
you
didn’t
feel
like
that
that
challenge
to
them
was
going
 to
threaten
the
relationship..?’
 L:
Ya,
well,
that’s
interesting
that
they
did
actually
tolerate
an
awful
lot
from
me
when
 I
think
about
it.
And
actually,
this
may
be
a
crucial
point:
Is
that
I
always
felt
 persecuted;
but
really,
when
I
look
back
on
it,
I
was
kind
of
persecuting
my
friends
 because
I
think
they
wanted
to
accept
me,
but
I
was
making
it
hard
for
them
to
accept
 me.
Like
I
was
making
their
acceptance
of
me
contingent
on
their
accepting
of
my
 beliefs.
And
that
really
quite
revealing
of
the
kind
of
belief
system
I
had…
This
really
 exclusivist
belief
system­
‘look,
you’re
in
or
you’re
out’,
and
‘I
know
what
the
criteria
is
 for
in
and
out’.



 Further
questions
I’m
interested
in
asking
you...

 What
made
it
possible
for
you
to
be
so
transparent
and
honest
about
your
 beliefs
among
your
SST
friends
despite
the
powerful
and
omnipresent
influence
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 62
 of
‘Fitting
In’
(which
would
typically
mean
avoiding
anything
that
would
set
you
 apart
as
odd,
different,
peculiar)?

 Your
doctrinal
dogmatism
and
demand
that
your
friends
adopt
your
belief
 system
seems
as
though
a
risky
move
on
your
part
(the
risk
of
proposing
an
 ultimatum
that
could
have
easily
been
rejected,
and
thus,
risking
a
rejection
of
 your
relationships).
What
offered
you
the
confidence
to
take
this
risk?

 What
might
this
say
about
the
extent
to
which
you
knew
that
acceptance
of
 ‘Leland
Maerz’
also
meant
acceptance
of
your
beliefs
(knowing
these
couldn’t
 tolerate
being
separated)
and
the
possibility
that
you
valued
this
congruency
 (between
personhood
and
held
belief)
perhaps
even
more
than
your
SST
 relationships?
 What
does
this
say
about
how
your
faith
was
still
preciously
held
while
 simultaneously
being
lived
out
in
a
‘schizophrenic’
way?

 When
you
consider
your
closest
relationships
today,
does
your
sense
of
self
(and
 being
accepted/
understood
by
others)
just
as
fiercely
demand
a
conversion
to
 your
way
of
thinking
and
believing
as
it
did
during
your
SST
years?

 During
our
interview
you
focus
on
your
relationship
with
John
who
you
were
 ‘closest
to’‐
a
particular
member
of
the
SST
who
you
described
as
the
‘king
pin’,
the
 ‘most
creative’,
‘way
ahead
of
his
time’
the
‘genius
in
the
group’
who
‘introduced
me
 to
Friedrich
Nietzsche
and
Herman
Hesse’
and
‘in
some
ways
who
was
the
most
 critical
of
me’.

 You
suggest
that
‘He
(John)
saw
in
me,
and
then
experienced
for
himself
the
power
of
 forgiveness’,
‘of
God’s
forgiveness’…’A
unique
kind
of
out­from­nowhere
acceptance
of
 oneself
despite
everything
that
one’s
done’.
‘John
experienced
that
from
me
as
a
person
 and
then
submitted
himself
to
that
experience
by
letting
me
baptize
him’.
For
you,
this
 unpredictable
event
was
a
‘confirmation
that
my
beliefs
were
actually
valid
and
that
 they
were
actually
true’…’that
those
beliefs
were
actually
able
to
have
a
powerful
 impact
on
people
who
were
not
given
to
them
in
childhood
like
I
was’…’So
my
beliefs
 were
reinforced,
even
as
they
were
being
deconstructed
by
my
constant
exposure
to
 these
secular
sources
of
inspiration.’

 I
think
here
it
might
be
helpful
to
remind
you
of
our
dialogue
following
your
initial
 reflection
of
John
and
the
mutually
gripping
and
transformative
influence
you
had
 on
one
another.
 A:
Well,
I’m
just
wondering
whether
somehow
unintentionally
you
positioned
yourself
 in
that
constant
conflict
so
that…
 L:
I
think
I
did
it
intentionally!
 A:
…so
that
you
could
be
re­affirming
your
beliefs
all
the
time,

 L:
Ya,
maybe…
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 A:
…knowing
that
they
were
necessary
somehow.
 63
 L:
That’s
actually
interesting.
I
think
that’s
what
it
was…
I
think
church
was
too
easy…
 I
think
I
believed
in
God
and
believed
those
things
so
strongly
that
I
actually
needed
to
 test
God
and
test
myself,
against
them.
That’s
actually…
I
think
that’s
a
really
 important
point.
That
actually
makes
a
lot
of
sense
to
me,
that
that’s
what
I
was
 doing,
actually.
But
it
was
all
hinged
upon
my
ability
to,
you
know,
ahhhh…
 A:
Sounds
too,
like,
you
know,
testing
God
through
the
choices
you
were
making
and
 the
lifestyle
you
were
leading,
and
then
also
still
being
open
to
people
with
God’s
 forgiveness
to
test
it
in
the
other
way­
to
test
that,
you
know,
that
a
free
mind
still
 required
forgiveness,
that
person
who
had
ultimate
freedom
still
actually
benefitted
 from
or
needed
what
you
were
offering
to
John…
 L:
Ya,
right.
Exactly…
and
this
was
kinda,
maybe
the
confusing
part,
cause
while….
I
 think
I
intuitively
understood
that
there
was
something
of
value
on
that
so­called
 secular
side;
that
there
was
a
freedom
there,
that
there
was
something
that
I
wasn’t
 ‘getting’…
At
the
time
I
believed
that
I
wasn’t
supposed
to
get
it,
that
it
was
taboo,
that
 to
get
that
would
have
been
to
have
lost…
 A:
to
have
crossed
over…
 L:
…to
have
crossed
over
into
the
dark
side.
But
I
think
I
intuited
back
then,
that
that
 actually
wasn’t
true…
That
actually,
what
I
wasn’t
getting
came
as
a
result
of
 something
that
I
wasn’t
getting
from
the
church,
actually.
I
began
to
articulate
that
in
 University.
I
started
to
say
that
actual
thing
in
University
when
I
actually
started
to
 have
my
own
belief
system
and
not
just
follow
the
one
that
was
passed
onto
me.
So
 later,
I
definitely
began
to
see
that
clearly,
but
in
high
school
and
junior
high
school
 when
it
was
happening,
I
think
I
intuited
that.
It
was
incred…
you
can
imagine
the
 pressure!
Like,
it
was
torture
at
times,
actually…
‘What
made
me
desire
this­
for
lack
 of
a
better
term­
‘secular’
freedom?’
‘Why
wasn’t
the
sacred
freedom
that
had
been
 offered
to
me
through
my
Christian
faith
good
enough?
…And
so
I
felt
like
maybe
there
 was
something
fundamentally
wrong
with
me…
that
like,
‘why
were
other
Christians
 so
content
with
just
their…
with
things
the
way
they
were’?
 Who
would
you
say,
at
this
time
(among
family,
friends,
teachers,
church
 associates,
acquaintances)
was
most
aware
of
your
discontent
and
resistance
to
 this
‘the
way
it
is’
religion?
 What
do
you
think
he/she
would
have
said
about
your
passionate
and
sustained
 resistance
to
‘the
way
it
is’
religion?
 What
would
you
guess
this
person
would
say
was
the
impact
that
witnessing
 your
resistance
to
‘the
way
it
is’
religion
had
on
them
and
their
life
journey?
 Now
I’d
like
to
bring
us
to
the
point
in
our
conversation
that
transported
us
both
 into
the
beauty
of
silence
and
the
kind
of
language
that
only
our
shared
tears
could
 possibly
express…
And
this
is
when
you
spoke
of
John
and
his
recent
death,
and
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 64
 your
wish
that
‘I
could
be
having
this
conversation
with
him­
he’d
be
getting
it­
soooo
 getting
it,
it
gives
me
goosebumps…
He’d
be
so­
(choked
with
tears)
getting
it’.
 This
moment
of
emotive
exchange
between
us
still
chills
me,
and
haunts
me
 with
the
following
questions
I’d
ask
you
to
consider:
 If
you
were
seeing
your
faith
through
John’s
eyes
right
now,
what
would
you
be
 noticing
about
your
faith
that
you
could
appreciate?
 What
difference
would
it
make
if
you
believed
this
aspect
of
your
faith
was
 appreciated
by
others
as
well?
 How
would
being
aware
of
what
John
might
most
appreciate
about
your
faith
 inspire
you
to
continue
to
grow
and
change
in
your
perspectives
on
religion?
 In
taking
the
next
step
to
further
evolve,
what
do
you
think
you
might
find
out
 about
yourself
that
might
be
important
for
you
to
know?
 To
conclude
our
conversation,
(and
this
letter);
and
as
a
way
to
bridge
this
 interview
and
the
next,
I
left
you
with
the
question,
If
you
were
to
offer
it
a
title/
 caption,
how
would
you
choose
to
name
this
period
of
time
in
your
life?
 Until
next
time,

 Alison
 
 Narrative
Letter
B
 
 Hi
Leland,

 Glad
we
were
able
to
arrange
for
a
second
interview;
it
was
interesting
to
piece
 together
the
continuation
of
your
narrative
and
the
new
themes/
reoccurring
 threads
that
surfaced.
If
I
may,
I’d
like
to
follow
a
similar
format
as
the
last
letter
I
 wrote‐
reflecting
on
our
dialogue
and
posing
a
few
additional
questions
I’ve
 considered
since
we
spoke.

 If
I
could
remind
you,
we
picked
up
our
second
interview
where
we
left
off
in
the
 previous
conversation
when
I
concluded
by
asking
you
to
offer
a
name/
title/
 caption
to
your
elementary
to
high
school
days.
In
response
to
my
challenge,
you
 referred
to
the
collective
of
these
years
with
the
‘reluctant
fugitive’
metaphor.
 That
time
in
my
life…
there
was
just,
it
was
so
tense,
I
felt
so
uncomfortable,
I
 felt
like
I
didn’t
fit
in,
I
guess­
anywhere;
and
yet
wanted
to
so
badly.
And
so
 given
the
tensions
we
discussed,
I
thought
the
best
way
to
call
it
would
be
the
 time
in
my
life
when
I
was
a
reluctant
fugitive.
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 It’s
curious
to
me
that
this
idea
of
‘fitting
in’
also
comes
up
in
our
second
interview,
 and
because
of
it’s
recurrence,
thought
it
might
be
worthy
of
further
exploration.
 65
 ‘Fitting
in’…
how
do
you
know
what
‘fitting
in’
is
all
about
in
the
sense
that
you
 ‘wanted
to
so
badly’?
When
in
your
life
might
you
had
stolen
glimpses,
or
been
 given
experiences
that
would’ve
helped
to
inform
what
it
feels
like
to
be
 comfortable
with
yourself
and
others
within
a
particular
context?

 Does
‘fitting
in’
still
have
an
influential
affect
on
your
life?
When
does
it
most
 appear
on
the
scene?
Does
it
ever
make
itself
known
in
the
present?
Has
it
ever
 crept
into
this
intense
process
of
thesis
writing
and
potential
publication?
 Returning
to
your
‘reluctant
fugitive’
metaphor,
I
asked
you
to
say
more
about
this
 term
and
what
meaning
it
has
for
you…
 …
For
me,
in
the
context
of
my
own
story,
it’s
like
I
was
running
from
my
past
 and
my
upbringing,
but
couldn’t
seem
to
escape
the
entropy
of
it’s
[Christian]
 influence.

And
I
wasn’t
sure
that
I
wanted
to,
so
that
was,
that
was
kind
of
like
 the
tension
I
think,
through
that
time
of
my
life
...
I
wanted…
I
believed
in
and
 wanted
to
stick
to
the
values
that
had
been
passed
on
to
me
though
my
 evangelical
Christian
upbringing,
but
didn’t
know
how
to
express
them
in
any
 other
way
other
than
through
that
evangelical
Christian
paradigm
or
belief
 system…
And
that,
was
constantly,
sort
of,
getting
me
into
trouble,
constantly
 causing
me
to
be
in
these
conflicts
and
with
my
friends,
with
my
family…
and
so
 I
was
having
to
always
get
myself
out
of
those
conflicts
so
I
could
be
accepted.
 So
the
fugitive
is
like,
trying
to
pose
like
they’re
a
normal
member
of
society,
 but
they’re
not­
because
their
past
always
exposes
them
and
gets
them
into
 trouble…
So
that’s
kinda
how,
I
guess,
I
might
see
myself
now,
back
then.
 As
a
self­identified
‘reluctant
fugitive’,
why
do
you
think
you
stopped
short
of
a
 radical
and
complete
disinheritance
from
your
evangelical
Christian
past
and
 upbringing?
What
does
this
‘reluctance’
say
about
what
you
might
value
about
 staying
with,
and
remaining
connected
to
inherited
beliefs?
Can
you
speak
to
 this
in
terms
of
what
importance
you
place
on
belief
continuity?
 What
are
the
values
that
you
‘wanted
to
stick?’
Are
these
values
that
you
 continue
to
practice
and
play
out,
even
today?
How
has
your
expression
of
these
 values
‘stuck’,
while
also,
perhaps,
evolving
over
the
years?
 Jumping
ahead
in
our
dialogue
a
bit,
I
want
to
bring
your
attention
to
some
further
 ideas
you
put
out
about
belief…
 I’m
curious
to
understand
the
way
you
decide
what
beliefs/
belief
systems
are
 worth
holding
on
to,
and
evolving,
and
which
are
meant
to
be
let
go?
This
 process
of
knowing­
would
it
best
be
described
as
a
feeling?,
an
intuition?,
a
 voice
that
indicates
you’re
meant
to
move
on
into
new
territory?

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 66
 It
seems
as
though
as
a
‘reluctant
fugitive’
you
had
a
heightened
sensitivity
for
what
 beliefs
were
offensive,
and
when
it
was
time
to
escape
from
the
communities
who
 espoused
these.
In
once
instance,
you
talk
about
being
‘totally
set
against
this
kind
of
 this
legalistic,
Pharisaic,
cold
kind
of
Christianity
where
morality
was
set
up
already,
 pre­ordained
by
God
and
you
just
had
to
live
according
to
it’.
In
another
scenario
you
 said
it
felt.
‘as
though
I
was
contributing
to
a
form
of
oppression…
that
people
were
 stuck
in
this
system
of
belief
and
not
able
to
break
out
of
it
and
question
themselves,
 and
question
life,
and
develop
themselves
in
the
way
that
they
preferred’.

At
another
 time
you
suggest;
‘I
couldn’t
fit
into
that
system…
this
Christian
world
view
thing’
and
 picked
up
this
idea
with,
‘…
I
knew
there
was
never
just
going
to
be
one
way­
I
mean,
 that
was
sort
of
the
contribution
of
postmodern
philosophy
to
me…
It
was
just
 abandoning
the
pursuit
of
a
‘once­and­for­all’,
objectively
established
blueprint
for
 reality’.
 In
most
situations
highlighted
here
you
seem
to
be
offered
an
intuitive
knowing
 that
you
no
longer
fit
with
a
particular
set
of
beliefs.
And
yet
in
contrast,
later
on
in
 our
conversation,
with
some
hesitancy
and
tentative
language,
you
openly
explore
 where
you
are
now
in
terms
of
belief
and
belief
identity,
confessing:
‘…I’m
not
even
 sure
today
whether
I
would
identify
as
a
Christian.
I
think
I
would…
I
think
I’ve
gone
 back
and
forth
on
that…
I
think
last
year
I
was
thinking
I
wouldn’t,
now
I’m
kinda
 thinking,
‘Oh,
ya,
there’s
a
way
I
can
still
identify
as
a
Christian,
and,
get
away
with
it.’


 What
might
it
say
about
you
that
you
have
often
been
caught
ready
to
abandon
 certain
Christian
beliefs,
but
more
so
reluctant
to
lay
to
rest
a
Christian
 identity?
What
is
happening
for
you
here
that
you
don’t
want
to
leave
behind
 prematurely?

 What
is
it
about
your
identification
with
Christianity
that
remains
precious
 despite
years
of
rejecting
evangelical
concepts/
ideas?

 Following
the
‘reluctant
fugitive’
narrative
you
provided,
your
spirited
and
 adventurous
story
continued
with
reflections
on
your
time
at
St.
Stephen’s
 University
(SSU)
where
you
spent
years
invested
in
undergraduate
and
graduate
 studies
at
home
and
abroad;
a
long
stay
in
Uganda
in
which
you
were
ordained
an
 Anglican
deacon;
a
move
to
Seaforth,
Nova
Scotia
in
pursuit
of
a
surfer
monk
 lifestyle;
a
few
years
teaching
intro
philosophy
at
a
Christian
school
in
West
Java,
 Indonesia;
to
the
present
day
where
you
find
yourself
now
married
and
living
again
 in
Canada,
working
as
a
therapist
and
completing
an
M.Ed
in
Counselling.
WOW!
 During
your
story
telling,
I
couldn’t
help
but
note
how
throughout
this
decade
of
 your
life,
you
were
perennially
involved
with
initiatives
which
incited
change
in
 yourself
and
inspired
it
in
others.

In
fact,
you
mention
that
‘the
whole
time
I
was
at
 university,
people
would
prophesy
over
me
and
say
that
I
was
a
‘truth
seeker’­
that
I
 was
all
about
seeking
the
truth.’
If
I
may,
I’d
like
to
suggest
some
of
these
‘truth‐ seeker’
actions
you’ve
taken
over
the
years…

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 67
 1.
You
describe
St.
Stephen’s
University
as
‘very
welcoming’,
‘a
beautiful
community’
 where
you
‘ate
together
cooked
together,
studied
together’;
a
‘safe
place’
where
you
 were
‘allowed
to
question’.
While
traveling
with
SSU
as
a
component
of
their
study
 program,
you
were
‘torn
in
so
many
directions,
exposed
to
so
much’,
feeling
as
though
 ‘to
expect
a
student
to
be
able
to
work
that
out
into
a
coherent
Christian
world
view
 was
a
big
ask’.
Your
exposure
to
‘otherness’
and
diversity
in
high
school
 psychologically
prepared
you
for
this
pressure
and
you
were
skilled
at
having
‘a
 foot
in
either
world’
despite
these
travel
experiences
being
‘a
confusing
collision
of
 perspectives
and
culture’
that
was
‘extraordinarily
disillusioning’.

You
recall
feeling
 pressure
to
act
as
a
missionary
in
charismatic
Christian
communities
overseas
 while
simultaneously
being
influenced
by
your
reading
of
existential
philosophy
 that
eventually
led
to
you
‘resisting
the
mission
and
vision
of
the
school
in
that
it
 wanted
to
create
in
us
a
single
world
view’.

 ‘What
the
University
wanted
to
instill
in
myself
and
in
others
sort
of
ironically
 backfired
in
the
sense
that,
looking
back,
I
don’t
think
we
got
a
Christian
world
 view­
we
got
Christian
world
perspectives.
And
not
even
Christian
ones,
we
got
 ones
that
weren’t
even
Christian’.
 Protesting
the
idea
of
single
world‐views
as
‘blueprints’,
you
exposed
the
SSU
 community
to
postmodern
ideas
and
was
eventually
permitted
to
co‐teach
a
course
 on
post‐modernity.
You
summarize
your
experience
at
SSU
as
being
a
‘happy
 fugitive’
existence,
successfully
discovering
a
way
to
‘be
under
all
those
conflicting
 world
views,
philosophies,
doctrines,
expressions
of
Christianity,
expressions
of
not­ Christianity’,
beginning
to
find
ways
to
articulate
your
own
life
experience.

 2.
As
a
summer
tree
planter
in
British
Columbia
you
were
‘presenting
these
ideas
 from
post­modernity
and
existential
philosophy
to
challenge
people’s
Bible
school
 bubble
world’...

 3.
‘In
Uganda,
I
preached
quite
a
bit,
I
was
a
pastor…
all
I
did
was
really
encourage
 people…to
question
their
upbringing,
develop
their
own­
not
their
own
in
isolation,
I
 don’t
mean
this
highly
individualized
kind
of
spirituality
that’s
popular
now­
not
in
 isolation
from
community,
it
wasn’t
that
at
all
(I
need
to
make
that
clear)…
It
was
‘do
 it
within
and
with
your
Christian
community­
evolve
it­
don’t
just
stick
to
one
static
 idea
of
what
it
means
to
have
a
relationship
with
God…
be
active
in
your
community
 in
such
a
way
that
you’re
developing
in
a
growing
understanding
of
what
that
means,
 and
don’t
be
afraid
to
challenge
the
orthodox
or
the
traditional­
because
they
can
be
 blockages.’
And
part
of
that
message
was.
‘Get
out
in
your
neighborhood
and
talk
with
 people
who
don’t
share
your
beliefs’.

 4.
At
Sekolah
Pelita
Harapan
your
challenge
to
self
and
others

‘was
more
like,
 ‘there’s
more
to
the
world!...like…
isn’t
it
interesting
to
learn
about
Buddhism,
and
see
 the
similarities
and
differences
with
Christianity
and
be
in
that
kind
of
dialogue
with
 it?
…
You
spent
your
time
‘asking
questions
of
my
students
and
exposing
them
to
 various
views
and
perspectives’
and
challenging
teachers
‘through
incredibly
rich
 conversation
and
dialogue…
to
hold
belief
differently’.
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 68
 5.
In
Seaforth
you
introduced
yourself
to
contemplative
Christianity
with
a
longing
 for
‘real,
very
visceral
experiences
of
God’.

You
moved
to
the
Nova
Scotia
coast
and
 bought
an
old
house
by
the
Atlantic
where,
within
the
community
you
helped
form,
 you
experienced
an
‘acceptance
of
one
another
and
sharing
of
life
together
along
the
 ocean.’
Through
surfing,
which
you
describe
as
‘a
spiritual
experience­
in
the
sense
 that
it’s
constantly
altering
your
sense
of
self
and
others
in
the
world
around
you’,
you
 realized
‘sublime
states
of
consciousness,
form,
flow’…
‘In
Seaforth
it
wasn’t
so
much
 about
a
search
for
this
belief
system…
it
was
more
just
about
learning
from
others.’
 ‘Steps
towards
inciting
spiritual

change
in
self
and
others’
are
my
words­
how
 might
you
name
these
actions?

 What
do
these
actions
say
about
the
way
you’ve
chosen
to
live
your
life
thus
far?

 Can
you
predict
how
this
history
as
both
a
‘reluctant
fugitive’
and
‘truth­seeker’
 might
inform
the
next
evolution
of
your
faith
experience?

 In
what
way
does
‘reluctant
fugitive’
and/or

‘truth­seeker’
reflect
future
hopes
 and
dreams
for
your
life
and
what
ideas,
beliefs,
communities,
initiatives
do
you
 see
yourself
connected
to
while
living
again
in
Seaforth,
Nova
Scotia?
 Others
christened
you
with
the
name
‘truth
seeker’.
In
our
conversations
you
 described
‘truth
as
a
process­
actually
a
relationship­
that
truth
itself
is
very
 dynamic,
a
very
slippery
strange
kind
of
animal’.

How
might
the
notions
of
 ‘process’,
‘relationship’
‘dynamic’
and
‘a
slippery
strange
kind
of
animal’
be
 carried
forward
and
witnessed
in
your
own
life
now?

 Would
you
say
writing
this
thesis
is
a
‘step
toward
inciting
spiritual
change
in
 self
and
others’?
What
hopes/
expectations
do
you
have
for
this
piece
of
work?
 Are
there
other
people
in
your
life
who
also
understand
truth
as
relational
and
 as
a
process?
Are
they
also
interested
in
furthering
these
ideas
in
theory
and
 praxis?
 At
one
point
in
our
conversation
when
I
asked
you
‘what
makes
it
possible
to
 remain
‘unstuck’
in
life?’,
you
replied:
‘An
openness
to
people
and
experiences…

I’m
 not
content
with
just
the
party
line
on
stuff.
I
enjoy
finding
out
what’s
new,
I’m
 curious’…
 Where
did
you
learn
the
skills
for
‘openness
to
people
and
experiences,
‘finding
 out
what’s
new’,
and
being
curious?

 Was
becoming
aware
of,
and
practicing
these
skills
what
partially
led
you
to
be
 interested
in
a
Master’s
thesis
on
narrative
therapy
and
post­secularity?

 How
has
‘not
being
content
with
just
the
party
line
on
stuff’
surfaced
in
your
 process
of
thesis
writing?

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 69
 In
summary,
I
want
to
let
you
know
how
listening
to
your
storytelling
has
affected
 my
life
and
practice
as
a
counseling
therapist
who,
like
yourself,
is
connected
to
an
 evangelical
Christian
lineage
and
history…

In
your
sharing,
what
most
struck
a
 chord
with
me
was
your
reference
to
the
idea
of
growing
and
changing
belief‐
not
 necessarily
dropping
old
ones,
or
picking
up
new
beliefs,
but
this
process
of
 changing
and
growing
being
more
about
the
way
one
‘holds’
their
beliefs.

 Truth
was
something
way
more
relational
and
experiential
than
that.
I
think
 at
that
time
I
was
figuring
out
that
I
was
always
going
to
be
growing
and
 changing
in
my
beliefs.
Not
so
much
in
my
beliefs,
but
in
the
way
I
held
them...
I
 knew
that
I
was
always
going
to
hold
my
own
beliefs
about
the
world
and
 about
God
differently…
I
knew
there
was
never
just
going
to
be
one
way­
I
 mean,
that
was
sort
of
the
contribution
of
postmodern
philosophy
to
me…
It
 was
just
abandoning
the
pursuit
of
a
‘once­and­for­all’,
objectively
established
 blueprint
for
reality.
 Given
my
penchant
for
amateur
photography,
when
I
consider
this
idea
of
holding
 beliefs,
I
think
about
one’s
relationship
with
the
subject
one
might
be
 photographing.
Depending
on
how
I
‘hold’
this
subject
(the
angle,
perspective,
 lighting
I
choose)‐
the
subject
will
be
portrayed,
perceived,
and
understood
in
a
 new
and
original
way.
I
resonate
with
your
ideas
around
evolving
beliefs
and
see
 how
this
concept
fits
well
in
terms
of
my
work
as
a
narrative‐influenced
 practitioner.
It
offers
hope
and
opens
up
ways
for
engaging
with
persons
who
may
 come
to
therapy
holding
their
beliefs
(about
self,
others,
etc)
in
life‐suffocating
 ways,
and
providing
a
way
by
which
they
can
begin
‘loosening’
these
tightly
held
 beliefs,
and
in
the
process,
discover
preferred
ways
of
being
that
no
longer
require
 that
‘objectively
established
blueprint
for
reality’
and
might
I
also
add/
replace
 ‘reality’
with:
masculinity,
beauty,
success,
motherhood,
happiness....

 Thanks,
Leland
for
sharing
your
story
through
conversation;
the
honoring
way
in
 which
you
hold
precious,
and
carry
forward
your
knowledge’s,
skills,
insight,
and
 wisdom
from
your
life
experiences
is
indeed
inspiring!
 Warm
regards,

 Alison.
 
 PART
III:
The
Significance
of
Narrative
Therapy
as
a
Post­Secular
Practice.
 
 This
paper
has
so
far
sought
to
describe
how
modern
expressions
of
 secularity
and
religion
have
been
altered
under
the
cross
pressures
each
has
put
on
 the
other.

It
has
been
argued
that
an
emerging
post‐secular
view
—linked
as
it
may
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 be
to
a
post‐structural
critique
—
permits
a
much
wider
range
of
perspectives,
 70
 positions,
operational
definitions
and
perceived
boundaries
for
the
secular
and
the
 sacred,
the
spiritual
and
the
religious.

‘Secularity’
it
has
been
suggested
is
no
longer
 a
‘place’
or
‘position’
that
necessarily
exempts
the
spiritual
or
that
of
faith.

The
 secular
and
the
spiritual
rather,
can
be
construed
as
the
‘space’
in
which
both
 religious
and
nonreligious
options
for
the
meaning
of
the
relationship
between
self
 and
other
is
sought.

 
Scientific,
religious
and
political
practices
in
this
revised
secular
dynamic
 are
no
less
important
but
subject
to
a
new
form
of
accountability.
Knowledge
claims
 made
by
either
will
also
need
to
include
an
exploration
of
the
values
and
beliefs
that
 motivate
both
the
process
and
conclusions
derived
from
its
respective
practices.
 While
some
might
lament
these
revised
secular
conditions,
others
may
find
in
them
 new
hope
and
potential
for
a
kind
of
pluralistic
society
that
can
accommodate
a
less
 restricted
and
far
more
creative
pursuit
of
human
meaning.
 Attention
now
will
turn
to
narrative
therapy
and
the
possible
roles
 counselling
therapists
may
have
in
contributing
to
a
post‐secular
ethos
in
which
 there
is
a
more
rigorous
pluralistic
engagement
with
religion
and
spirituality.
 Relational
Spirituality:
Integrating
religion
and
spirituality
into
‘professional’
 practice.
 
 As
is
often
the
case
for
counsellors,
one’s
own
personal
journey
can
be
 reflected
in
the
lives
of
the
people
one
commits
to
serve
publically.

The
struggle
to
 grow
out
from
the
oppressive
elements
of
modern
secularism
and
my
evangelical
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Christian
upbringing
(as
illustrated
above)
have
made
me
interested
in
knowing
 71
 how
my
own
evolving
values
and
beliefs
influence
my
conversations
with
people.

 In
this
learning
process
I
have
experienced
and
also
been
witness
to
both
the
 positive
and
negative
power
that
religion
and
spirituality
can
have
on
one’s
sense
of
 self
and
psychological
well
being.

In
my
own
life
and
in
the
lives
of
others
I
can
 recount
times
when
religion
and
spirituality
is
perceived
to
be
private
—something
 inappropriate
or
unfair
to
bring
up
in
public
spaces
including
the
counselling
 agencies
in
which
I
work.

On
more
than
one
occasion
I’ve
discovered
late
in
the
 counselling
process
that
someone
holds
religious
and\or
spiritual
beliefs
and
ideas.

 People
often
express
with
a
sense
of
relief
that
I
am
going
to
be
ok
with
them
 expressing
themselves
in
religious
and
spiritual
terms.


I
have
also
experienced
and
 witnessed
moments
when
religion
and
spirituality
is
perceived
to
be
unavoidably
 oppressive.

Someone
once
told
me
in
the
first
five
minutes
of
our
conversation
that
 he
would
always
be
“depressed”
because
God
had
a
plan
for
humanity
that
he
felt
 obligated
to
follow
but
discouraging
to
live
for.

This
person
was
emphatic
that
 there
was
nothing
I,
nor
they
could
do
to
change
this
situation
since
it
was
God
who
 had
made
it
so.


Finally,
I
have
been
privy
to
moments
when
others
(and
myself)
 report
to
experiencing
a
quality
of
peace
and
freedom
that
can
be
thought
to
be
 inexpressible.

In
such
experiences
there
is
a
sense
of
surrendering
to
a
power
more
 than
the
immediate
sum
of
one’s
emotional,
mental
and
physical
functioning,
and
 consequently
a
new
ability
to
discern
and
articulate
the
best
way
to
live
in
light
of
 personal
problems.

An
occasion
I
will
never
forget
is
the
look
of
joy
on
the
face
of
a
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 72
 person
who
told
me
that
she
did
not
need
to
come
see
me
anymore
because
she
had
 found
God’s
love
within
herself.


 Not
surprisingly,
in
light
of
the
growing
popularity
of
‘the
spiritual
but
not
 religious’
discourse,
there
is
a
body
of
researched
evidence
pointing
to
the
positive
 psychological
impact
of
religion
and
spirituality
upon
health
and
well‐being.

Many
 in
the
psychology
of
religion
field
refer
to
the
phrase
‘coping
strategy’,
or
to
the
 more
recent
adaptation
of
‘spiritual
coping’,
to
describe
the
role
religion
and
 spirituality
has
in
helping
people
manage
a
wide
range
of
mental,
emotional
and
 even
physical
suffering
(Gockel,
2009;
Hill,
et
al.,
2000;
155;
Pargament,
Ano,
&
 Wachholtz,
2005).

In
my
experience
however,
the
word
“cope”
is
an
inadequate
 expression
of
the
function
spirituality
plays
in
people’s
lives.

I
see
no
reason
why
 religion
and
spirituality
can’t
also
contribute
to
problems
when
they
are
construed
 as
meaning
making
systems
that
help
people
to
cope.

Furthermore,
it
might
be
 asked:
Is
‘coping’
(managing)
with
life
all
that
can
or
should
be
hoped
for
from
 religion
and
spirituality?
 Though
meant
to
be
complimentary,
the
notion
of
‘spiritual
coping’
is
not
 dissimilar
to
the
Marxist
refrain
about
religion
being
an
‘opiate’.

Like
Streib’s
 ‘religious
styles’
the
idea
is
tied
to
a
modern
version
of
secularity
that
renders
(and
 thereby
authorizes)
religion
as
being
outside
of
what
people
are
thought
to
‘really’
 be
coping
with.

As
it
has
already
been
shown,
emerging
perspectives
in
the
religion
 and
spirituality
discourse
are
challenging
this
by
seeking
to
develop
an
 understanding
of
spirituality
as
a
meaning
making
process
that
is
linked
to
the
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 experiencing
of
self
and
other
in
relationship.

In
this
sense
it
is
inaccurate
to
 73
 describe
religion
and
spirituality
as
either
a
problem
or
a
solution
to
a
problem.

Ian
 Percy
(2004)
speaks
of
the
connection
between
spirituality
and
what
he
calls
 narrative
and
contemplative
ways
of
knowing.


 Realisation
 of
 our
 intersubjective
 and
 interdependent
 lives
 is
 not
 only
 an
 intellectual
or
imaginative
achievement
but
also
a
profound
felt
experience
 that
moves
us
from
an
individualistic
to
a
relational
consciousness,
which
we
 can
 bring
 to
 all
 aspects
 of
 counselling
 practice. (Percy, 2004, p. 3) Percy
thus
advocates
for
what
he
calls
“relational
spiritualities”
that,
 resist
the
tendency
of
spiritual
paths
to
divide
the
world
into
binaries
such
 as
 them
 and
 us,
 good
 and
 evil,
 right
 and
 wrong,
 or
 inner
 and
 outer.
 By
 embracing
spiritualities
that
are
inclusive
we
refute
simplistic
dualities
and
 fostered
complexity
and
reciprocity,
and
the
moral
realm
of
interdependent
 responsibilities
 and
 social
 obligations
 comes
 to
 the
 fore….
 
 I
 believe
 continuing
wide‐ranging
conversations
about
immanent,
transcendental
and
 enacted
 spiritualities
 is
 desirable.
 Creating
 storylines
 of
 spiritualities
 may
 transform
 the
 lives
 of
 the
 people
 who
 attend
 counselling,
 as
 well
 as
 counsellors
in
their
day‐to‐day
professional
practice.
(p.
15)

 
 Spirituality
understood
as
a
meaning
making
process
for
relational
 awareness
and
experiencing

(see
also
Connelly
above),
offers
an
interesting
 innovation
in
conceptualizing
how
to
address
religion
and
spirituality
in
a
post‐ secular
manner.

Importantly,
it
challenges
the
popular
notion
that
spirituality
is
 something
that
needs
to
be
‘added’
or
‘included’
in
counselling
by
deconstructing
 the
implication
that
it
could
be
excluded
in
the
first
place.

Relational
spiritualities
 thus
render
visible
the
normalizing
secular
‘gaze’
that
excludes
religion
from
the
 public
sphere
and
proceeds
to
delegitimize
it
as
valid
way
to
acquire
knowledge
 and
experience
of
self
and
other.


The
differentiation
of
religion
from
the
secular,
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 74
 the
scientific
and
the
spiritual
may
have
been
important
for
the
advancement
of
our
 understanding
of
ourselves,
the
universe
and
of
religion.

It
is
becoming
clearer
 however,
that
they
are
re‐integrating
in
ways
that
may
be
crucial
for
the
 advancement
of
a
peaceful
global
pluralization.


 
 Such
integration
however,
is
not
without
serious
questions
and
challenges.

 The
potential
for
religion
and
spirituality
to
divide,
distort
and
oppress
is
also
 widely
acknowledged.

In
counselling
environments
the
affirmation
of
religion
and
 spirituality
as
an
aspect
of
‘the
profession’
is
often
disregarded
or
deemed
a
taboo
 subject.

While
there
are
currently
many
sincere
attempts
to
find
a
paradigm
or
 framework
to
address
religion
and
spirituality
in
counselling
(Hinterkopf,
1998;
 Knox,
Catlin,
Casper,
&
Schlosser,
2005;
Lines,
2002;
Moore
&
Purton,
2006;
Plumb,
 2011),
there
is
little
congruence
in
how
to
account
for
both
the
strengths
and
 limitations
of
the
ancient,
modern
and
post‐modern
perspectives.

Additionally,
 while
many
agree
that
integration
is
and
should
take
place
not
much
is
being
 written
on
the
kinds
of
appropriate
public
practices
that
may
bring
it
about.


In
my
 own
quest
to
process
these
difficult
issues
I
have
found
narrative
therapy
as
both
 affirming
and
challenging
of
my
attempts
to
understand
and
attend
to
religion
and
 spirituality
in
the
context
of
both
my
formal
and
informal
conversations
with
 people.

Others
I
discover
are
making
a
similar
observation
(Barker,
2009;
Behan,
 Pare,
Young,
Freedman,
&
Scott,
2006;
Carlson
&
Erickson,
2000;
Cook
&
Alexander,
 2008;
McSkimming,
2009;
Percy,
2004;
Piehl,
1999;
Yamane,
2000).


 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 
 75
 In
the
following
pages
I
would
like
to
be
suggestive
of
narrative
therapy
as
a
 post‐secular
practice
that
can
address
religion
and
spirituality
in
ways
that
are
 both
therapeutically
and
politically
significant.
 Theory
of
Narrative
Therapy:
Connecting
therapy
to
post­structuralism
and
to
the
 post­secular.
 
 Narrative
therapy
was
developed
primarily
through
the
efforts
of
Michael
 White
and
David
Epston,
who
were
influenced
as
family
therapists
by
their
own
 research
in
cybernetics,
interpretive
anthropology
and
postmodern
philosophy.

 True
to
its
names
sake,
narrative
therapy
is
an
extension
of
the
turn
towards
the
 importance
of
language
and
linguistics
in
the
social
sciences
(Rorty,
1967).

 Influenced
by
Gergen
and
Gergen’s
(1984)
notion
of
“storying”
and
Bruner’s
(1986)
 ideas
about
the
meaning
of
events
across
time,
White
and
Epston
(1990)
came
to
 prefer
the
“text
analogy”
over
the
‘mechanistic’
(ie.
humans
as
functioning
machines
 with
programmed
systems)
analogies
employed
by
the
physical
sciences
(p.
6).

 From
the
‘text
analogy’
they
developed
the
‘narrative
metaphor’
for
therapy
by
 suggesting
that
both
the
therapeutic
relationship
and
process
are
embedded
in
 diverse
contexts
of
‘languaged’
experience.

These
contexts
produce
the
narratives
 (ie.
stories)
that
influence
the
life
and
work
of
the
therapist
as
well
as
the
life
and
 problems
presented
by
their
clients.

Brown
and
Scott
(2006)
offer
this
concise
 expression
of
the
narrative
metaphor.
 [O]ur
stories
do
not
simply
represent
us
or
mirror
lived
events
–
they
 constitute
us,
shaping
out
lives
and
relationships.
The
narrative
metaphor
 conveys
the
idea
that
stories
organize,
structure,
and
give
meaning
to
events
 in
our
lives
and
help
us
make
sense
of
our
experiences….

Not
only
are
there
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 76
 no
neutral
stories,
there
is
no
neutral
hearing
of
stories.
[White]
advocates
a
 therapeutic
alliance
that
is
a
partnership
between
active,
embodied
subjects,
 who
together
co‐author
more
helpful
and
less
oppressive
stories.
(p.
x)
 
 Narrative
therapy
is
in
many
ways
distinct
from
approaches
that
have
 emerged
from
the
modern
framework
of
psychology
and
therefore
represent
a
 challenge
to
the
current
assumptions
given
to
the
purpose
of
therapy
itself
(White,
 1997).

It
changes
not
only
how
therapy
is
done
but
also
how
one
thinks
and
talks
 about
the
therapeutic
enterprise.

Among
only
a
small
grouping
of
therapies
 conceived
out
of
the
theoretical
discourses
of
post‐modernism,
narrative
therapy
 conceptualizes
the
problems
in
people’s
lives

—as
well
as
their
sense
of
self
amid
 these
problems—
as
produced
in
social,
cultural
and
political
contexts
(Freedman
&
 Combs,
1996;
Parry
&
Doan,
1994;
White,
1997,
2007;
White
&
Epston,
1990).

The
 interpretative
process
in
narrative
therapy
is
thus
unique
in
that
it
does
not
refer
to
 the
activity
of
an
expert
or
professional
explaining
to
another
person
what
their
 experience
‘really’
means
or
applying
a
psychological
theory
as
an
explanation
for
a
 person’s
problem
(Payne,
2006,
p.
21).

Instead
a
person’s
own
knowledge,
 experience,
meaning‐making
and
words
are
‘preferenced’
as
sufficient
forces
in
 moving
person’s
to
act,
think
and
feel
in
ways
they
understand
to
be
helpful
to
them
 (White,
2004,
2007;
White
&
Epston,
1990).

 Combining
post‐structural
discourse
analysis
with
ideas
from
social
 constructionist
theory,
the
process
of
interpretation
in
narrative
therapy
may
be
 described
as
reflexive
and
inexhaustible.
“[F]or
while
we
live
our
stories,
our
stories
 live
us;
we
create
our
stories
and
are
created
by
them”
(Brown
&
Augusta‐Scott,
p.
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 xviii).

Following
Derrida’s
notion
of
‘deconstruction’
narrative
therapy
does
not
 77
 strive
to
disclose
the
‘once
and
for
all’
truth
of
reality
or
human
nature.
Meaning
is
 determined
by
the
ongoing
social
negotiations
between
perceptions
of
what
‘was’,
 ‘is’
and
what
‘could
be’.

Past,
present
and
future
events
can
be
authored
in
a
 multiplicity
of
ways,
each
making
a
difference
in
how
life
may
be
experienced.

Says
 Tina
Besley
(2001).

 Meaning
is
produced
through
language
and
its
context,
and
the
way
language
 is
used
to
convey
thoughts,
emotions
and
histories.
Meaning
is
not
 something
given
and
then
applied
in
context.
The
way
that
narrative
therapy
 explores
meanings
and
finds
alternative
stories
that
can
open
up
new
 possibilities
for
clients
positions
it
within
the
constructionist
psychology
 domain,
in
opposition
to
many
systems
and
biologically
based
psychological
 theories
that
assume
that
some
underlying
structure
or
dysfunction
 determines
behavior.
(p.
76)
 
 Narrative
therapy
challenges
the
idea
that
psychological
health
is
 determined
by
‘deep’
static
structures
(biological
or
humanistic)
that
lay
beyond
 the
subjective
and
inter‐subjective
influence
of
interpreted
experience.

Likewise
it
 questions
the
use
of
‘typologies’
and
‘diagnostic
labels’
as
functional
extensions
of
 these
structures.
Its
argues
not
only
that
these
said
‘structures’
and
‘labels’
can
be
 unhelpful,
but
that
they
can
be
actively
subjugating
of
a
person’s
own
efforts
toward
 health
—
especially
when
they
are
essentialized
as
being
‘real’.


 Drawing
heavily
from
Foucault’s
examination
of
the
relationship
between
 knowledge
and
power,
White
specifically
took
issue
with
the
notion
of
 psychological
repression
as
the
explanation
for
what
prevents
personal
fulfillment,
 and
the
discovery
of
a
‘true
self’
(White,
1997,
p.
221).

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 78
 The
joining
of
claims
about
nature,
repression
and
psychological
 emancipation
powerfully
ties
persons
to
the
reproduction
of
our
culture’s
 ‘truths’
of
identity
in
their
pursuit
of
liberation
—persons
are
ever
more
 tightly
bound
to
their
subjectivities
through
their
efforts
to
liberate
 themselves….
Under
poststructuralist
analysis,
it
turns
out
that
it
is
not
 repression
that
obscures
the
truth,
but
that
it
is
the
repressive
hypothesis
 that
actually
obscures
the
fact
that
persons
are
being
incited
to
reproduce
 the
subjectivities
that
are
specified
by
the
‘truth’
(of
human
nature).
(White,
 1997,
p.
224)
 
 White
further
asserts
that
the
organizational
systems
and
measurement
 technologies
of
psychological
interpretation
do
not
reveal
the
essential
elements
of
 human
nature
or
provide
evidence
of
a
‘core’
self.

Instead
what
is
taken
to
be
‘the
 self’
of
human
nature
is
a
product
of
those
systems
and
measurement
technologies.
 They
“constitute
the
modern
subject”
and
“specify
subjectivity”
in
ways
that
have
 implications
on
therapeutic
practice
(pp.
224‐225).

 
Narrative
therapy
thus
advances
an
intriguing
and,
I
would
argue,
an
 aporetic
view
of
human
subjectivity.

On
the
one
hand
it
joins
poststructuralists
in
 denying
both
the
humanist
essentialist
and
a
structuralist
universal
notions
of
self.
 On
the
other
hand
narrative
therapy
avoids
existential
nihilism
by
strongly
 affirming
the
agency
of
persons
to
determine
(author
and
re‐author)
their
own
 ‘sense
of
self’
and
identity
conclusions.
In
his
later
work
White
refers
to
this
 distinction
as
the
difference
between
“internal
state
understandings”
and
 “intentional
state
understandings”
(2007,
pp.
103‐106).

The
concept
of
a
fixed
 autonomous
self
is
thus
replaced
with
ongoing
subjective
and
inter‐subjective
 relating
and
meaning
making
(Besley,
p.
79).

The
question,
“Who
is
this
subject,
 this
author,
and
this
agent
of
change?”
is
not
abolished
but
rather
perpetually
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 deferred.

This
paradox
will
be
addressed
later
as
important
to
the
application
of
 narrative
therapy
in
addressing
religion
and
spirituality
in
counselling.

 Those
familiar
with
White’s
work
and
ideas
are
accustomed
to
his
close
 attention
to
the
use
of
language
—his
dissatisfaction
even
with
the
word
therapy
 due
to
the
taken‐for‐granted
assumptions
that
the
term
carried
forward
into
his
 work
(1995,
p.
30;
1997).

This
is
a
point
that
may
be
too
often
overlooked
in
the
 79
 wider
prospective
use
of
narrative
ideas
in
other
fields
of
study
and
practice
as
well
 as
within
the
broad
spectrum
of
therapeutic
approaches.

Some
have
proposed
 ‘narrative’
as
the
new
meta‐theory
or
at
least
a
core
feature
connecting
all
therapies
 (Angus
&
McLeod,
2004)
and
even
all
sciences.


 Making
careful
reference
to
White’s
work
Martin
Payne
(2006
ch.
9)
points
 out
the
obvious
irony
of
positioning
the
narrative
metaphor
as
a
‘core’
feature
of
all
 therapies
by
directing
attention
to
the
explicit
links
between
narrative
therapy
and
 poststructuralist
ideas.

Mining
White’s
work
he
cites
times
when
White
(1995)
 addressed
this
issue
directly.
 The
narrative
metaphor
is
often
referred
to
in
conjunction
with
other
 metaphors
that
are
commonly
used
in
family
therapy
literature
and
practice:
 specifically,
metaphors
of
system
and
pattern…
Because
the
metaphors
of
 system
and
pattern
on
the
one
hand,
and
the
metaphor
of
narrative
on
the
 other,
are
located
in
the
distinct
and
different
traditions
of
thought,
this
 tacking
on
and
conflating
of
disparate
metaphors
simply
does
not
work.
(as
 cited
in,
Payne,
2006,
p.
158)
 There
are
interpretations
of
narrative
therapy
that
read
it
as
a
proposal
for
a
 recycled
structuralist\humanist
psychological
practice…
This
casting
of
 narrative
therapy
is
in
direct
contradiction
to
the
tradition
of
thought
and
 practice
that
has
informed
its
development
–
that
is,
the
tradition
of
 poststructuralist
thought.
(White,
1997,
p.
217)

 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 The
connection
between
narrative
therapy
and
post‐structuralism
is
here
 being
emphasized
in
order
to
begin
advancing
the
thesis
that
narrative
therapy
 80
 offers
suitable
relational
practices
towards
the
post‐secular.

This
suitability
is
not
 merely
about
the
application
of
therapeutic
‘theory’
and
‘technique’
upon
people
 with
religious
beliefs
but
about
questioning
the
legitimacy
of
the
therapist’s
role
in
 shaping
a
‘social
imaginary’
with
room
for
religion
and
spirituality
in
public
 discourse.

That
modern
psychotherapy
has
been
the
‘handmaiden’
of
modern
 secular
theory
is
strongly
implied
in
White’s
application
of
Foucault’s
ideas.

It
may
 be
argued
that
it
has
been
one
of
the
primary
delivery
systems
of
secular
ideas
that
 have
reinforced
western
Christian
values
while
also
displacing
religion
out
of
public
 discourse.



 The
idea
of
therapy
says
Epstein
(1994),

 is
the
preponderant
influence
on
the
composition
of
normative
standards
for
 how
we
conduct
ourselves,
how
we
judge
people,
how
we
decide
who
to
get
 involved
with,
who
to
avoid,
where
we
take
a
job,
bring
up
children,
deal
 with
illness,
our
bodies,
our
minds,
all
our
social
relations.
(as
cited
in,
 Brown
&
Augusta‐Scott,
2006,
p.
xvi)
 
 Therapy
itself
(including
narrative
therapy),
is
in
this
sense,
a
social
construction
 with
a
particular
agenda
and
role
that
is
not
outside
of
the
cultural
discourses
it
 influences
(Brown
&
Augusta‐Scott,
p.
xv).

Post‐structural
discourse
analysis
thus
 establishes
an
important
linkage
between
narrative
therapy
and
a
viable
post‐ secular
form
of
engagement.
Without
it,
the
narrative
metaphor,
along
with
the
 notion
of
the
post‐secular,
are
in
danger
of
becoming
ironic
reflections
of
the
very
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 81
 hegemonic
forms
of
secular
humanism
and
modern
structuralism
that
they
seek
to
 move
beyond.

With
this
post‐structuralist
link
narrative
therapy
potentially
opens
 a
space
to
deconstruct
the
self‐legitimizing
‘closed
world
structures’
of
the
secular,
 the
religious
and
the
psychotherapeutic
while
contributing
to
a
social
imaginary
 that
is
more
informed
by,
and
therefore
more
representative
of,
diverse
human
 experience.
This
project
significantly
alters
and
outstrips
the
contemporary
 understanding
and
expectations
of
modern
therapy.
 We
proceed
now
with
a
review
of
some
distinctive
ideas
guiding
narrative
 therapy
practices
and
how
these
may
be
considered
post‐secular
revisions
of
the
 therapeutic
enterprise
in
relation
to
religion
and
spirituality.
 Praxis
of
Narrative
Therapy:
The
meaning
and
significance
of
de­centered
relating.
 
 The
pioneering
work
of
Carl
Rogers
towards
the
development
of
the
 humanist
approach
in
psychology,
and
the
client‐centered
(or
person‐centered)
 practices
that
accompanied
this
approach,
has
led
in
the
past
40
years
to
a
strong
 consensus
with
regard
to
the
importance
of
the
therapeutic
relationship
(Muran
&
 Barber,
2010).

Many
attribute
the
quality
of
‘alliance’
between
therapists
and
 clients
to
be
the
single
most
important
factor
in
predicting
a
positive
outcome
in
 therapy.

Building
significantly
on
this
realization
narrative
therapy
has
developed
a
 set
of
‘decentring’
practices
and
‘conversational
maps’
that
give
way
to
re‐thinking
 the
implications
of
the
therapeutic
relationship.

 White
(1997)

drew
a
distinction
between
“one‐way”
and
“two‐way”
 accounts
of
the
therapeutic
relation.

In
the
former
the
‘expert’
knowledge
of
the
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 82
 therapist
is
understood
to
be
preferenced
and
applied
in
a
way
‘objectifying’
of
the
 people
seeking
assistance.

There
is
the
indirect
implication
that
persons
do
not
 have
the
personal
qualities
to
understand
themselves.

White
is
quick
to
point
out
 the
negative
consequences
of
this
one‐way
account
to
both
therapists
and
clients
in
 that
there
is
perpetuated
an
inflexible,
and
ultimately
impoverishing
relation.

On
 the
one
hand
such
an
account
of
therapeutic
relating
weakens
people’s
perception
 of
the
effectiveness
of
using
their
own
knowledge,
lived
experience
and
 relationships
to
help
address
their
problems.

On
the
other
hand,
the
one‐way
 account
disengages
therapists
from
the
reciprocal
“acts
of
meaning”
that
make
the
 therapeutic
endeavor
life
sustaining
and
fulfilling
for
them.

Under
such
conditions
 says
White,
“our
work
does
not
re‐acquaint
us
with
the
viability
of
our
purpose.
 Therapeutic
practice
becomes
an
atemporal
experience”
(p.
130).

The
professional
 expectation
to
be
a
distanced
expert
who
‘treats’
others
thus
becomes
a
significant
 contributor
to
therapist
fatigue
and
‘burn
out’.

Payne
points
out
that
even
in
 Rogerian
person‐centered
therapy
it
is
the
therapeutic
relationship
that
is
viewed
 as
responsible
for
helping
people
overcome
their
assumed
deficiencies
(p.
171).

 This
can
have
the
effect
of
“aggrandizing”
the
therapist
in
ways
that
often
lead
to
 distortions
in
how
important
the
therapy
relationship
is
in
the
context
of
rest
of
the
 person’s
life
experience.


 While
Roger’s
work
has
been
influential
in
challenging
the
influences
of
 positivist
scientific
assumptions
about
the
treatment
of
people
in
therapy,
White
 may
be
seen
to
have
gone
one
step
further
in
deconstructing
the
assumptions
of
the
 humanistic
rendering
of
the
therapeutic
relationship.

In
a
two‐way
accounting
of
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 the
therapeutic
relationship
the
hierarchies
of
knowledge
and
ethical
 responsibilities
that
separate
therapists
from
people
are
challenged.

The
 83
 relationship
is
not
limited
to
avoiding
the
unethical
extremes
of
an
unprofessional
 emotional
enmeshment
between
therapist
and
client
by
adhering
to
an
ethic
of
the
 distanced
and
value
neutral
professional.

In
narrative
therapy
both
therapist
and
 ‘persons’
who
consult
them
can
be
mutually
engaged
and
affirmed
in
ways
that
still
 maintain
an
ethical
focus
on
the
needs
of
the
persons
seeking
help.

A
two‐way
 account
of
the
therapy
relationship
thus
offers
options
for
therapeutic
interactions
 that
are
personable,
creative,
collaborative
and
ethical.

Such
interactions
proceed
 from
the
awareness
that
the
impossibility
of
value
‘neutrality’
on
behalf
of
the
 therapist
can
actually
be
useful.

It
allows
for
the
asking
of
questions
that
motivate
 clients
to
seek
for
themselves
how
their
values
and
beliefs
may
be
contributing
to
 or
diminishing
the
effects
of
their
problems
upon
their
lives.

 
 White
supported
his
two‐way
account
of
the
therapeutic
relationship
by
 developing
a
series
of
practices
and
‘conversational
maps’
that
engage
but
 ‘decenter’
the
therapist.

The
decentered
therapist
is
neither
indifferent
nor
judging
 of
the
thoughts,
beliefs,
emotions
and
experiences
of
persons,
but
makes
a
 conscious
effort
to
maintain
focused
inquisitiveness
towards
these.

Another
way
to
 put
this
is
that
the
therapist
develops
a
‘response
posture’
of
curiosity
rather
than
 suspicion.

Such
a
posture
puts
more
emphasis
on
clarifying
and
‘thickening’
a
 person’s
understanding
of
their
own
words
and
experience,
and
much
less
on
the
 therapist’s
‘thin’
(content
starved)
assumptions
about
these
words
and
experiences
 (Parry
&
Doan,
1994;
White,
1997).

‘Thick’
and
‘thin’
(Geertz,
1973)
in
this
context
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 84
 are
descriptors
taken
up
by
White
to
contrast
the
perception
in
traditional
therapy
 of
the
client’s
‘shallow’
understanding
and
the
therapist’s
‘deeper’
understanding
of
 their
problems.

The
decentered
therapists
give
themselves
permission
to
“not
 know”
the
meaning
of
a
person’s
experience,
deferring
instead
to
further
exploring
 the
‘knowledges’
that
they
may
bring
even
if
these
may
be
tied
to
cultural
beliefs
 and
practices
unfamiliar
to
the
therapist
(White,
2004).


 
 I
believe
that
the
two‐way
account
of
the
therapeutic
relationship
offers
a
 sublime
framework
of
understanding,
not
only
for
how
to
address
and
integrate
 religion
and
spirituality
in
counselling
but
for
the
quality
of
relating
needed
to
 develop
richer
forms
of
pluralistic
engagement
in
secular
society
in
general.

Some
 of
the
qualities
of
the
two‐way
account
of
therapeutic
relating
are
illustrated
in
the
 decentring
practice
of
the
narrative
letters
included
as
part
of
this
research.

 Documents
like
these
are
encouraged
and
described
in
most
of
White
and
Epston’s
 publications
as
effective
therapeutic
accompaniments.

They
counter
the
exclusivist
 authority
of
modern
psychological
‘documentation’
by
involving
people
in
re‐ authoring
the
significance
of
their
own
problems
and
establishing
their
own
worth
 as
persons
in
light
of
these
problems
(White
&
Epston,
1990
ch.
4).
 

 In
Alison’s
written
account
of
our
conversations
more
time
and
space
was
 afforded

(outside
of
the
counselling
office)
to
reflect
on
my
own
use
of
words,
and
 to
consider
(among
many
other
things)
how
I
am
choosing
to
interpret
my
past,
 present
and
future.
That
I
have
the
ability
to
re‐author
my
life
story
is
implied
by
 Alison’s
genuine
acceptance
of
my
struggle
to
articulate
the
evolution
of
what
my
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 85
 experiences
mean
to
me.

While
there
are
many
questions
that
I
found
challenging
 in
her
letters,
never
did
I
sense
that
Alison
was
using
her
own
knowledge
and
 beliefs
to
judge
the
value
of
mine.

Yet
one
notices
that
in
no
place
is
Alison
 pretending
not
to
have
knowledge,
beliefs
and
values.

They
are
clearly
present
and
 at
times
openly
divulged,
but
in
ways
that
helped
me
widen
the
perceived
 categories
of
cultural
(and
religious)
understanding
that
I
operate
within,
and
 loosen
the
pressure
that
these
categories
and
their
respective
‘gazes’
might
be
 having.

I
was
thus
helped
to
further
articulate
and
focus
my
own
thoughts
and
 feelings
in
light
of
how
I
perceived
I
could
act
on
my
own
beliefs
and
values.

White
 (2007)
refers
to
this
as
the
subjunctive
stance
of
the
therapist
in
which
the
‘what
 might
be
possible
if…’
are
explored
to
render
visible
the
potential
ways
that
values
 and
beliefs
may
be
held
and
enacted.
 Despite
knowing
that
our
conversations
and
these
letters
would
be
used
as
 illustrations
of
this
thesis
I
can
say
quite
honestly
that
many
unexpected
and
 powerfully
felt
shifts
occurred
in
my
sense
of
what
my
experiences
can
mean
for
me
 and
for
others.
They
provided
much
of
the
motivation
to
push
through
with
the
 actions
necessary
to
complete
this
work.

Additionally,
Alison
reported
that
in
 writing
the
narrative
letters
she
enjoyed,
in
the
midst
of
her
inquiry
into
my
life,
 having
been
afforded
the
chance
to
reflect
on
her
own
life
in
a
positive
way
as
well.

 Her
expression
of
this
in
the
letter
further
emphasized
to
me
that
my
account
of
life
 might
be
of
value
to
others.

 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Conversational
Maps:

Moving
from
what
is
familiar
to
what
is
possible.
 86
 Michael
White
was
inspired
in
part
by
Russian
Psychologist
Lev
Vygotsky’s
 theory
of
learning
and
development
to
conceptualize
the
different
aspects
of
the
 therapeutic
process
(and
decentring
practices)
into
what
he
called
‘conversational
 maps’
(White,
2007;
White
&
Morgan,
2006).

Such
maps
guide
and
‘scaffold’
the
 lines
of
inquiry
(questioning)
into
the
complexity
of
one’s
accounts
of
themselves
 with
respect
to
their
problems
as
well
as
their
hopes
and
dreams.

With
these
maps
 White
sought
to
travel
with
people
through
what
Vygotsky
called
the
‘zone
of
 proximal
development’.

This
zone
is
the
area
between
what
is
already
known
and
 familiar
to
what
is
possible
to
know
and
do.

 In
the
context
of
therapeutic
practice,
the
therapist
contributes
significantly
 to
the
scaffolding
of
the
proximal
zone
of
development,
and
also
recruits
the
 participation
of
others
in
this.
This
scaffolding
makes
it
possible
for
people
 who
are
consulting
therapists
to
incrementally
and
progressively
distance
 from
the
known
and
familiar
towards
what
might
be
possible
for
them
to
 know
and
to
do.
(White
&
Morgan,
2006,
p.
45)
 
 White
recognized
that
Vygotsky’s
metaphor
of
scaffolding
lent
itself
to
a
social
 constructionist
understanding
of
therapeutic
change
and
also
to
the
task
of
the
 therapist
to
help
facilitate
this
change.

Scaffolding
the
‘zone
of
proximal
 development’
highlights
the
responsibility
that
therapists
have
to
provide
the
 conditions
for
the
development
of
personal
agency
in
those
seeking
help.

Insights
 and
understandings
that
may
move
a
person
into
what
is
possible
are
not
“given”
by
 the
therapist
but
discovered
through
the
interaction.

If
a
person’s
response
to
a
 therapist’s
questions
is
“I
don’t
know”
or
“I
am
not
sure
how
to
answer
that”
this
is
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 an
indication
that
more
scaffolding
is
necessary
in
the
conversation.

Such
 87
 awareness
on
behalf
of
the
therapist
also
seeks
to
eliminate
the
idea
that
people
are
 ‘resistant’,
‘lacking
motivation’
or
‘unable
to
evaluate
themselves’.

Such
 impressions
says
White,
reveal
the
extent
to
which
the
person
is
“mired”
in
the
 known
and
familiar
and
the
extent
to
which
the
therapist
may
be
trying
to
present
 ideas
that
are
not
‘experience
near’.

Successful
scaffolding
requires
‘thick’
 descriptions
and
explorations
not
only
of
problems
but
of
the
values
and
beliefs
 that
form
the
context
in
which
problems
function
(White,
2007,
pp.
282‐283).
 
While
White
cautioned
against
the
scaffolding
map
metaphor
being
reified
 into
mandated
procedures
that
restrict
therapists
to
the
“unquestioned
 reproduction
of
what
is
familiar”
(p.
6),

he
also
encouraged
creative
map
making
 and
the
use
of
alternative
metaphors
to
guide
therapy
in
a
process
driven
by

 spontaneity
and
shared
meaning
making.


The
use
of
the
map
metaphor
as
a
 descriptor
for
the
therapeutic
process
might
be
contrasted
here
from
that
of
the
 ‘production
blueprint’
in
the
sense
that
maps
can
be
multidimensional
and
revised
 to
reflect
the
mutual
forces
of
influence
that
occur
between
the
explorers
and
the
 territory.
There
are
not
only
different
types
of
maps
for
different
types
of
 orientations
but
never
can
one
map
ever
claim
to
fully
disclose
the
changing
 features
of
the
territory
it
seeks
to
represent.

Taking
cues
from
White’s
invitation
 to
creative
map
making
we
turn
now
to
briefly
explore
one
frequently
used
 conversational
map
and
ask
how
it
might
be
useful
in
addressing
people
who
 present
to
therapy
with
strong
religious
and\or
anti‐religious
beliefs.
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 
Externalizing
Conversations:
The
process
of
deconstructing
social
discourses.
 
 Externalizing
conversations
are
generally
used
in
the
beginning
stages
of
 88
 narrative
therapy
even
though
the
externalizing
perspective
is
used
throughout
the
 therapeutic
process.

This
type
of
conversation
offers
both
therapist
and
persons
 seeking
help
a
unique
point
of
view
on
the
relationship
between
people
and
the
 problem(s)
they
experience.

In
externalizing
conversations
problems
can
be
both
 objectified
and\or
personified
as
oppressive
influences
that
are
separate
from
the
 person
coming
under
their
influence
(White
&
Epston,
1990,
p.
38).
White
(2007)
 observed
that
the
tendency
for
people
to
internalize
problems
or
believe
that
their
 problems
are
a
reflection
of
their
own
identity
can
often
be
responsible
for
shaping
 their
efforts
to
resolve
these
problems.

When
problems
are
cast
as
an
essential
 aspect
of
a
person,
such
as
in
the
pathologizing
categories
and
diagnostic
labels
of
 psychoanalysis,
people
are
automatically
positioned
to
understand
that
they
are
 inherently
deficient
and
therefore,
unable
to
help
themselves.
Externalizing
 conversations
can
provide
a
way
around
at
least
one,
if
not
both
roadblocks
that
 this
biased
rendering
of
people’s
relationship
to
their
problems
erect.

People
can
 begin
to
understand
that
they
can
have
an
influence
over
their
problems
and
are
 less
hesitant
to
ally
with
others
to
resist
or
resolve
the
effects
of
problems
upon
 them.
 [Externalizing
conversations]
employ
practices
of
objectification
of
the
 problem
against
cultural
practices
of
objectification
of
people.
This
makes
it
 possible
for
people
to
experience
an
identity
that
is
separate
from
the
 problem;
the
problem
becomes
the
problem,
not
the
person.

In
the
context
 of
externalizing
conversations,
the
problem
ceases
to
represent
the
“truth”
 about
people’s
identities,
and
options
for
successful
problem
resolution
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 suddenly
become
visible
and
accessible.
(p.
9)
 
 Externalizing
conversations
are
first
and
foremost
given
to
a
way
of
 89
 speaking
that
requires
a
shift
in
the
use
of
language.

Such
a
shift
has
as
much
to
do
 with
the
therapists
attitude
as
it
does
with
acquired
technique
or
skill
(Morgan,
 2000,
p.
17).

The
therapist
listens
closely
to
a
person’s
account
of
their
issue,
 problem
or
complaint
and
begins
to
frame
these
as
separate
from
the
person.

Some
 examples:
 When
did
this
anxiety
begin
to
affect
you?

 Rather
than:
When
did
you
start
noticing
you
were
an
anxious
person?
 Anger
seems
to
have
been
successful
in
disrupting
your
closest
relationships.
 Rather
than:
You
have
an
anger
problem.
 Depression
has
been
trying
hard
to
keep
you
from
what
you
would
like
to
do.

 Rather
than:
Your
depression
keeps
you
from
going
to
work

 
 
 Speaking
in
this
way
about
problems
opens
a
way
to
thoroughly
investigate
 and
explore
them
in
the
lived
context
and
societal
discourses
in
which
they
are
 experienced.
I
have
found
that
when
people
are
given
the
opportunity
to
participate
 in
externalizing
conversation
—even
to
just
name
their
own
problem—
a
renewed
 atmosphere
of
hope
is
brought
into
the
conversation.

Furthermore,
the
 externalizing
process
is
one
that
can
be
playful
and
creative.

Since
all
language
is
 metaphoric,”
says
Payne,
“…written
or
spoken
units
symbolize
their
referents;
they
 are
not
the
referents
themselves…”
(p.
47).

Problems
such
as
‘Mr.
Mad’,
‘The
not
 good
enough
monster’,
or
‘Scaredy
cat’
are
not
important
names
because
they
 represent
‘real’,
known
entities.

They
are
chosen
because
they
are
relevant
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 selections
of
the
imagination
that
best
suit
the
person’s
lived
experience
of
 problems
like
anger,
depression
and
anxiety.

 90
 In
many
instances
different
points
on
the
externalizing
map
are
returned
to
 in
order
to
bring
more
clarity
and\or
complexity
to
understanding
a
problem,
its
 effects
and
the
wider
context
in
which
the
problem
functions.

I
have
found
that
 people
often
wish
to
revise
the
name
of
the
problem
once
they
begin
to
explore
its
 effects.

This
can
be
an
important
development
since
what
is
chosen
as
the
problem
 can
allow
the
‘politics’
of
it
to
be
explored
in
ways
that
do
not
reinforce
the
 dominant
ideas
that
may
be
contributing
to
the
problem
(Morgan,
2000,
p.
22).

For
 example,
Frank
presented
to
me
with
what
he
initially
called
anger
and
depression.
 Further
investigations
however,
led
Frank
to
re‐name
his
problem

“The
not
giving
 a
shits”
in
which
anger
and
depression
were
cited
as
effects.


Because
of
this
 adjustment
(which
I
did
not
initially
understand
fully)
Frank
was
able
—in
the
later
 evaluation
and
justification
points
in
the
conversation—
to
discover
that
his
beliefs
 about
God
were
contributing
significantly
to
the
functioning
of
problems
in
his
life.

 Frank
was
himself
surprised
by
his
making
this
connection
and
this
led
to
 conversations
that
enabled
him
to
not
only
externalize
his
problem
but
also
create
 some
space
between
himself
and
his
strong
religious
beliefs
which
he
had
never
 considered
to
be
something
worth
exploring
or
seen
as
directly
connected
to
his
 problems.


 During
the
evaluating
and
justification
points
in
externalizing
conversations
 opportunities
arise
to
explore
the
broader
context
in
which
the
problem
functions
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 91
 in
a
person’s
life.

Not
only
are
problem’s
externalized
and
seen
as
separate
from
a
 person’s
sense
of
self
or
identity,
but
also
their
preferences,
feelings,
ideas,
values
 and
beliefs.

From
a
narrative
therapy
perspective
problems
thrive
because
they
are
 supported
by
particular
societal
discourses
(spiritual,
religious
and
secular)
that
 are
learned
but
reflected
in
a
person’s
values
and
beliefs.

 The
therapeutic
practice
of
‘externalizing
internalizing
discourses’
goes
 beyond
externalizing
the
problem....
It
comprises
explicit
examination
of
the
 derived
ideas
which
inform
self‐narratives,
and
of
the
language
which
 maintains
these
ideas,
thus
directly
bringing
issues
of
relational
and
 institutional
politics
into
the
therapy
room.
(Payne,
p.
48)
 
 Narrative
therapy
thus
positions
itself
to
deconstruct
the
normalizing
‘gazes’
that
 determine
the
production
of
attitudes
and
positions
toward
ideas
about
subjects
 such
as
health,
gender,
education,
ethnicity,
social
classes
and
religion.


 Externalizing
conversations
generally
follow
but
are
not
limited
to:
 i.

Naming
the
problem
(preference,
feeling,
idea,
value,
belief)
 Can
you
think
of
a
name
that
would
uniquely
fit
this
problem
you
are
describing
to
 me?
 If
this
problem
was
a
thing
or
a
person
what
would
you
call
it
based
on
how
this
 problem
‘acts’
in
your
life?
 
 ii.

Tracing
the
history
of
the
problem
(preference,
feeling,
idea,
value,
belief)
 Can
you
remember
when
this
problem
first
began
having
an
influence
over
you?
 How
long
can
you
remember
this
problem
being
an
issue?
 
 iii.

Exploring
the
effects
of
the
problem
(preference,
feeling,
idea,
value,
belief)
 What
are
the
different
ways
that
this
problem
has
affected
your
life?
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 How
is
your
life
different
from
what
you
would
prefer
because
of
this
problem?
 
 iv.

Evaluating
the
effects
of
the
problem
(preference,
feeling,
idea,
value,
belief)
 Would
you
say
this
effect
is
something
positive
and\or
negative
for
you?
 In
what
ways
is
this
‘effect’
something
you
want
and\or
don’t
want
in
your
life?
 
 v.

Justification
of
the
evaluation
of
the
effects
 Why
is
this
effect
something
you
want
(or
don’t
want)
in
your
life?
 What
values
or
beliefs
inform
this
account
of
the
problem
and
its
effects?
 
 92
 In
Frank’s
situation,
the
belief
that
“God
has
to
come
first”
was
explored
as
 one
contributor
to
his
swings
from
caring
too
much,
to
his
problem
of
not
caring
at
 all.

By
externalizing
this
belief
and
exploring
its
effects
Frank
discovered
that
his
 succumbing
to
“the
not
giving
a
shits”
were
at
times
in
which
he
felt
tremendously
 guilty
and
like
a
total
failure
for
not
‘putting
God
first’
and
giving
into
his
own
 “sinful”
desires.

In
these
moments
Frank
described
his
frustration
and
the
urge
to
 just
give
up
and
give
in,
whatever
the
consequences
(in
this
case
verbally
abusive
 outbursts
towards
his
family
and
now
ex‐girlfriend).

Further
inquiries
into
the
 history
and
effects
of
Frank’s
religious
beliefs
revealed
many
ideas
about
God,
about
 women
and
about
what
he
described
as
the
difficulty
of
living
a
‘holy’
life.

The
 externalizing
conversational
map
was
useful
in
scaffolding
our
discussions
in
ways
 that
kept
me
engaged
but
decentered,
and
in
assisting
Frank
to
re‐author
his
 position
to
the
problem
in
light
of
how
he
was
changing
the
way
he
‘held’
his
beliefs.

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 93
 Here
are
some
examples
of
the
kinds
of
externalizing
questions
I
asked
Frank
with
 regard
to
his
religious
belief
that
‘God
has
to
come
first’:
 Is
this
belief
something
you
came
to
on
your
own
or
was
it
something
you
remember
 being
taught?
 Can
you
clarify
to
me
by
way
of
an
example
what
you
mean
by
‘God
coming
first’?

I
 am
not
sure
I
understand
what
this
would
look
like
in
your
life?
 What
do
you
know
about
the
consequences
when
this
belief
is
ignored
or
disregarded?
 Do
any
of
these
consequences
relate
to
your
problems
and
its
effects?
 In
what
ways
has
this
belief
been
helpful
and
not
so
helpful
to
you
in
your
 relationships?
Who
else
knows
that
you
have
this
belief
and
shares
in
it
with
you?
 
In
what
ways
has
this
belief
inspired
you
to
live
a
better
life?
How
does
such
a
belief
 accomplish
this?
 Are
there
any
other
beliefs
that
need
to
go
with
this
belief
in
order
for
it
to
ensure
that
 it
reaches
its
potential
in
moving
you
in
a
positive
direction?
 
 Frank
reported
that
our
conversations
offered
him
the
opportunity
to
 develop
a
new
perspective
on
his
life
and
his
faith.

They
helped
free
him
to
think
of
 his
beliefs
differently
and
therefore
act
and
feel
differently
about
himself
and
 others.

Frank
said
he
was
able
to
begin
“catching”
himself
before
yielding
to
‘the
 not
giving
a
shits’
and
began
as
well
to
recognize
when
he
was
‘trying
too
hard
to
 please’
in
ways
that
made
him
vulnerable
to
this
problem
and
its
effects.

Perhaps
 most
importantly,
Frank
decided
not
to
abandon
his
belief
about
God.

Our
 conversations
helped
him
unpack
more
about
what
his
beliefs
might
mean
to
him
 and
to
employ
other
beliefs
and
ideas
about
God
that
he
had
never
considered
as
 applying
to
his
situation.

For
example,
Frank
came
to
consider
that
his
beliefs
about
 God’s
love
and
acceptance
(using
the
language
of
grace
and
forgiveness)
might
 apply
to
the
times
when
he
felt
most
like
a
failure
and
under
the
influence
of
the
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 problem.

Frank
began
to
draw
on
these
ideas
in
new
ways
and
even
reported
to
 have
sensed
a
difference
between
his
faith
in
God
and
his
beliefs
about
God
by
 saying
it
is
was
the
former
that
had
allowed
him
to
further
explore
the
later.

By
 externalizing
and
questioning
his
beliefs
Frank
was
actively
‘keeping
faith’.

 94
 Using
other
conversational
maps
I
assisted
Frank
further
in
re‐authoring
his
 belief‐story
towards
a
more
preferred
account
of
how
he
wanted
to
be
in
 relationship
with
himself,
others
and
God.

My
own
Christian
background
was
at
 times
helpful
in
using
terms
that
Frank
could
relate
to
but
also
a
potential
deterrent
 in
helping
him
further
‘thicken’
his
meanings
for
words
in
ways
that
could
scaffold
 his
own
movement
into
new
possibilities.

By
no
means
was
Frank’s
work
 considered
finished,
and
it
was
acknowledged
that
there
may
have
been
many
other
 types
of
conversations
that
could
have
helped
him
get
to
where
he
had
(ones
that
 may
not
have
included
exploring
his
religious
beliefs).

Nevertheless,
there
was
a
 shared
sense
that
he
had
the
ability
to
continue
on
his
own
with
the
help
of
a
few
 friends
whom
he
respected
and
had
trusted
to
divulge
his
recent
efforts
to
help
 himself.

 An
important
point
to
make
with
regard
to
this
synopsis
of
Frank’s
story
is
 that
externalizing
conversations,
in
as
much
as
they
encourage
the
deconstruction
 of
socially
constructed
assumptions,
do
not
subject
people’s
beliefs
and
values
to
a
 dichotomized
appraisal
of
their
veracity.


Because
beliefs
and
values
are
explored
 in
a
decentered
and
externalized
manner,
there
is
no
pressure
on
therapists
or
 persons
to
decide
once
and
for
all
whether
they
are
either
‘real’
or
‘true’.

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 95
 Additionally,
inquiries
into
the
influence
of
beliefs
and
values
do
not
discriminate
 between
the
legitimacy
of
ones
that
are
religiously
held
and
acquired,
and
ones
that
 are
nonreligious
or
secular.

The
onus
is
put
on
the
person
(not
therapist)
to
take
 responsibility
for
the
way
their
beliefs
and
values
can
be
both
helpful
and
harmful
 in
their
effect
on
the
way
a
person
chooses
to
live.



 By
contrast
are
therapies
driven
by
injunctions
to
determine
with,
or
worse
 for
others
what
is
‘real’
or
‘true’.
Questions
are
asked
from
a
response
posture
of
 suspicion
and
not
curiosity.

Such
approaches
imply
that
successful
therapy
is
 contingent
on
having
to
decide
whether
thoughts,
feelings
and
their
corresponding
 beliefs
and
values
are
either
rational
or
irrational.

Framed
in
this
way
one
can
 acknowledge
the
tremendous
pressure
this
puts
on
the
therapeutic
relationship
 and
how
this
pressure
is
a
direct
influence
of
the
modern
secular
‘gaze’
in
which
the
 perception
of
objective
rational
scientific
fact
is
pitted
against
irrational
 superstitious
belief.

 Religious
Fundamentalism:

The
challenge
of
addressing
modern
anti­modernism.
 I
have
sought
to
describe
how
Narrative
therapy’s
‘decentring
practices’
and
 ‘conversational
maps’
offer
important
post‐modern
revisions
to
the
person‐ centered
approach
in
counselling.

Highlighted
is
their
usefulness
in
addressing
 people
with
religious
beliefs.

Just
as
importantly,
narrative
therapy
has
been
 depicted
as
being
a
post‐secular
practice
that
challenges
and
deconstructs
those
 modern
secular
discourses
(political
and\or
therapeutic)
that
deny
the
legitimacy
 and
silence
the
voicing
of,
religious
and
spiritual
beliefs.

I
will
argue
now
that
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 96
 narrative
therapy
can
also
be
helpful
in
challenging
oppressive
religious
discourses
 that
have
formed
in
reaction
to
modern
secularization.

 A
concise
definition
for
the
term
‘fundamentalism’
has
been
made
more
 difficult
since
the
tragedy
of
9\11.

Torn
asunder
from
its
Protestant
Christian
 historical
context,
the
phenomenon
has
taken
on
a
generic
designation
for
religious
 conservatives
and
any
objective
claim
of
intolerance
for
belief
systems
not
one’s
 own.

As
suggested
earlier,
newer
forms
of
anti‐religious
atheism
share
similar
 characteristics
with
theistic
fundamentalism.

Both,
in
their
respective
ways,
trust
a
 single
source
of
authority
(be
it
a
sacred
text
or
the
scientific
method)
in
which
 beliefs
about
the
meaning
of
human
experience
come
to
be
taken
as
fact.

Faith
and
 belief
thus
collapse
upon
one
another
in
a
way
that
foments
intolerance.

The
 tendency
within
such
faith
says
Connolly
(2005)
is
this:
 The
instances
in
which
the
faith
of
others
incites
you
to
anathematize
it
as
 inferior
or
evil
can
usher
into
being
the
demand
to
take
revenge
against
 them
for
the
internal
disturbances
they
sow,
even
if
they
have
not
otherwise
 limited
your
ability
to
express
your
faith.
The
potential
for
madness
in
faith
 is
activated
not
only
by
the
threats
that
other
faiths
pose
to
our
lives
or
 possibilities
of
expression.
It
also
arises
when
their
ardent
confessions
honor
 a
source
of
morality
at
odds
with
the
one
we
construe
to
be
universal,
or
 challenge
our
demand
to
dominate
public
space.
(p.
27)

 
 This
expression
of
the
dangers
of
faith
articulate
well
how
fundamentalism
 predicates
itself
on
a
self‐justifying
logic
that
relies
to
a
large
extent
on
suspicion,
 resistance
and
rejection.

Former
nun
and
comparative
religions
scholar
Karen
 Armstrong
(2009)
observes
that
the
story
of
fundamentalism
in
all
the
world’s
 great
religious
traditions
follow
this
logic
of

resistance
and
rejection
even
if
the
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 97
 time
lines,
religious
doctrines
and
practices
vary
(pp.
280‐281).

The
irony
of
this
 resistance
however,
is
that
religious
fundamentalism
shares
a
unique
fidelity
to
the
 quest
for
empirical
foundations
and
human
emancipation
it
so
fears
from
its
 scientific\humanistic
counterparts.

For
this
reason
that
it
is
sometimes
referred
to
 as
‘modern
anti‐modernism’.

 There
are
several
features
that
have
made
and
continue
to
make
religious
 fundamentalism
a
particularly
difficult
phenomenon
to
address
in
therapy
and
in
 societies
with
pluralistic
ambitions.

Firstly,
most
current
experts
in
the
field
of
the
 psychology
of
religion
seem
to
agree
that
there
are
no
common
biographical
 features
or
personality
traits
(authoritarian
or
otherwise)
universal
to
 fundamentalists
(Hood,
et
al.,
2005;
O'
Connor
&
Vandenberg,
2010;
Streib,
2001b).

 Secondly,
it
is
predicated
by
the
fear
of
and
defensiveness
toward
modern
secular
 development.

Thirdly,
it
is
characterized
by
a
radical
adherence
to
a
single
sacred
 text.

In
a
publication
called
The
Psychology
of
Religious
Fundamentalism
(Hood,
et
 al.,
2005)
the
authors
assert
that
fundamentalism
proceeds
from
a
principle
of
 “intratexuality.”


Such
a
principle
it
is
argued
can
account
for
the
perplexing
 interplay
between
the
belief
content,
structure
and
process
in
fundamentalism.

 Associated
with
the
principle
of
intratexuality
are
two
related
content
 claims:
a
sacred
text
and
absolute
claims.
Note
that
we
do
not
specify
what
 the
sacred
text
is
(the
Quran,
the
Bible
etc.)
or
what
absolute
claims
are
 made.
The
reason
is
that
only
the
principle
of
intratexuality
can
specify
what
 text
is
sacred,
and
only
a
sacred
text
can
specify
what
truths
are
absolute.
 Thus
the
tautology
is
apparent
but
not
vicious.
(kindle
edition
314‐18)
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 According
to
the
above
authors
fundamentalists
are
not,
as
it
is
often
 98
 claimed,
opposed
to
new
knowledge.
They
are
however,
committed
to
a
dialogic
of
 ‘intratextuality’
in
which
all
emergent
knowledge
and
“peripheral
beliefs”
are
 checked
against
the
authority
of
the
truth
conveyed
by
the
sacred
text.

Those
not
 given
to
the
source
of
true
belief
are
thus
sources
of
opposition
and
agents
of
 potential
deception,
reconfirming
for
the
fundamentalist
the
importance
of
the
 sacred
text
to
authorize
absolute
truth.

The
problem
therefore,
is
not
that
 fundamentalists
are
‘close‐minded’
as
is
often
said;
it
is
that
their
system
of
 verifying
truth
and
meaning
is
confined
to
a
single
“text”
(kindle
edition
344‐48).
 A
great
challenge
that
fundamentalism
brings
to
a
renewed
secularism
is
its
 tendency
to
thrive
on
its
relegation
of
religion
to
the
private
sphere.

While
 fundamentalists
often
seek
publicity
they
tend
not
to
accept
or
even
expect
 invitations
to
public
discourses
that
operate
on
the
basis
of
‘intertextuality’
where
 sources
of
authority
to
knowledge
and
truth
are
viewed
as
tentative
and
contingent.
 Brian
McLaren
(2010)
offers
a
useful
metaphor
for
describing
the
difference
 between
‘intra’
and
‘inter’
textuality.

In
speaking
to
the
problem
of
Christian
 fundamentalism
he
laments
that
the
Bible
itself
has
become
for
many
a
legally
 binding
“constitution”
instead
of
a
“community
library”.

For
McLaren
the
Bible
 itself
is
an
illustration
of
an
inter‐texual
resource.

“So
we
judge
internal
tension
and
 debate
as
flaws
or
failures
in
the
components
of
a
constitution
but,
we
see
them
as
a
 sign
of
vitality
in
the
literature
of
a
culture”
(kindle
edition
1446‐55).

 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 The
prospect
of
including
fundamentalists
in
a
more
open
dialogical
 99
 pluralism
thus
faces
a
‘catch
22’
of
sorts,
whereupon
both
exposure
and
seclusion
 can
serve
to
reinforce
its
own
claims
of
epistemological
assurance
and
ideological
 superiority.


In
this
sense
fundamentalism
—to
borrow
a
well‐known
metaphor
 from
Carl
Jung—retains
the
function
of
modernity’s
“shadow”,
since
it
so
often
 reflects
the
weaknesses
and
shortcomings
of
the
modern
quest
for
certainty.

 
 There
is
little
question
that
post‐structualist
perspective
on
religion
is
no
 less
at
odds
with
fundamentalism
than
the
modern
secular
ones
fundamentalists
 are
in
reaction
to.

For
fundamentalists
post‐modernism
is
simply
a
more
insidious
 form
of
modernism,
in
which
ideas
of
moral
relativism
and
religious
pluralism
are
 vehemently
scrutinized.

Religion,
argue
Hood
et
al.
(2005),
is
a
comprehensive
 meaning‐system
that
subsumes
many
other
sources
of
meaning.

Therapists
 engaged
with
fundamentalists
may
be
taken
aback
at
how
strong
beliefs
and
values
 are
held
when
they
are
internalized
as
being
connected
to
an
externalized
source
of
 Divine
authority.

Investigating
beliefs
that
have
origins
in
popular
culture
for
 example
may
not
be
nearly
as
disruptive
than
beliefs
that
are
thought
to
have
their
 origin
in
an
all
powerful
infallible
deity
and
an
inerrant
sacred
text.

Pastoral
 therapist
Kim
Barker
makes
this
observation,
 When
someone
makes
their
[religious]
belief
system
the
object
of
their
 curiousity
and
investigation,
and
locates
it
within
the
historical
context,
this
 shifts
the
balance
of
power
and
makes
it
difficult
to
maintain
one’s
sense
of
 the
absolute
authority
of
those
belief
stories.
(2009,
p.
50)
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 100
 Despite
these
challenges,
I
believe
there
are
several
ways
in
which
narrative
 therapy
is
better
positioned
to
address
fundamentalism
therapeutically
as
well
as
 politically.


Firstly,
the
text‐analogy
implied
in
narrative
practices
has
led
to
the
 creation
of
conversational
maps
that
can
potentially
guide
and
‘scaffold’
the
journey
 toward
an
‘inter’
rather
than
‘intra’
textual
way
of
holding
beliefs
(more
on
this
 below).

Secondly,
a
pre‐disposition
to
the
importance
of
story
as
the
manner
by
 which
experiences
are
given
meaning
makes
narrative
therapists
potentially
more
 open
and
interested
in
the
narratives
in
which
religious
beliefs
emerge
and
are
 sustained.

Finally,
the
externalizing
of
beliefs
is
made
far
less
threatening
by
the
 decentered,
nonjudgmental
response
posture
of
the
therapist.

That
religious
beliefs
 are
not
subject
to
a
modern
secular
(structuralist)
appraisal
by
the
therapist,
means
 conversations
can
be
genuinely
respectful
of
people
yet
at
the
same
time
position
 them
to
take
responsibility
for
the
effects
of
how
they
‘hold’
their
beliefs.

 The
advantages
narrative
therapy
has
in
deconstructing
oppressive
religious
 discourses
are
premised
on
the
detailed
explorations
of
the
words
people
associate
 with
their
belief‐stories.

Such
explorations
‘thicken’
accounts
of
religious
and
 spiritual
experiences
while
also
relieving
the
therapist
from
feeling
they
have
to
be
 knowledgeable
of
religion.

Just
as
importantly
these
explorations
open
persons
to
a
 greater
variety
of
perspectives
and
attitudes
toward
their
own
understanding
of
 their
beliefs.
The
pressure
people
often
feel
to
choose
between
the
perceived
 heresies
of
secular
ideology
or
the
orthodoxy
of
religious
doctrines
can
be
greatly
 reduced.
This
is
what
I
have
in
mind
with
the
phrase
‘holding
beliefs’.

Generally
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 101
 speaking
the
tighter
the
‘hold’
the
less
dimensionality
or
‘perspectival’
complexity
 there
is
to
understanding
one’s
beliefs
in
the
context
of
lived
experience.

 
As
illustrated
by
Frank’s
story
(and
my
own),
faith
can
come
to
be
seen
as
 distinct
from
belief,
and
beliefs
(religious
or
otherwise)
can
be
understood
as
ideas
 that
grow
and
change
through
time.
‘Externalizing’
and
‘thickening’
are
thus
an
 important
part
of
the
scaffolding
process.

Moving
away
from
fundamentalist
ways
 of
holding
beliefs
and
toward
more
complex
forms
of
self\other
awareness
thus
 begins
with
becoming
open
to
the
diversity
of
interpretations
possible
within
the
 religious
(or
anti‐religious)
discourses
people
are
already
familiar
with.

 The
case
of
Terry
Jones
(first
mentioned
in
Part
I)
offers
a
nice
example
of
 the
effectiveness
of
addressing
religious
beliefs
from
within
a
person’s
zone
of
 proximal
development.


As
a
select
few
news
outlets
report,
it
was
not
the
prospect
 of
a
bargain
with
Muslim
leaders,
the
stern
warnings
from
President
Obama,
Hilary
 Clinton,
or
General
Petraeus,
nor
the
threats
from
other
extremists
conservative
or
 liberal
groups
that
ultimately
led
to
Jones
cancelling
“Burn
a
Quran
Day”
but
rather,
 the
little
known
influence
of
the
slightly
more
progressive
conservative
evangelical
 leadership
within
Christendom.

According
to
several
sources
(Gibson,
2010;
 Tunnicliffe,
2010;
Wallis,
2010)
it
was
the
intervention
of
two
evangelical
Christians
 Jim
Wallis
(President
of
Sojourners)
and
George
Tunnicliffe
(Director
of
World
 Evangelical
Alliance)
that
motivated
his
decision
not
to
burn
Qurans
and
not
to
 meet
with
Muslim
leaders.


According
to
Wallis,
Tunnicliffe
seemed
the
right
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 102
 person
to
speak
with
Jones,
as
he
was
able
to
reason
with
him
in
ways
Jones
could
 accept
and
understand.

 Without
going
into
the
details
of
a
private
dialogue
‐‐
one
Tunnicliffe
hopes
 will
continue
‐‐
he
later
told
me
that
the
pastor
seemed
"lost."
Others
 described
the
exchange
as
"powerful,"
"productive"
and
"reflective."
During
 the
conversation,
Jones
vowed
never
to
burn
a
Koran
and
even
asked
what
 an
apology
might
look
like.
(Wallis)
 
 At
one
point
in
the
meeting
Tunnicliffe
was
said
to
ask
Jones,

 Will
you
be
willing
to
be
with
me
when
I
have
to
talk
to
the
widow
of
an
 evangelical
pastor
in
the
Middle
East
who
is
killed
because
of
what
you
are
 about
to
do,
or
to
a
congregation
whose
church
is
burned
to
the
ground
as
a
 result
of
your
Koran
burning?
Will
you
help
me
explain
to
them
why
you
had
 to
do
this?
(Wallis)
 
 
 What
is
revealing
about
this
scarcely
publicized
conversation
is
the
influence
 that
‘experience
near’
questioning
can
have.

One
might
object
to
the
ethnocentric
 bias
of
Tunnicliffe’s
inquiry
(not
to
mention
its
rather
manipulative
tone),
but
the
 way
he
addresses
Jones
clearly
invites
him
to
take
responsibility
for
his
beliefs
and
 actions
from
a
place
Jones
is
capable
of
understanding
and
responding
to.

I
see
no
 reason
why
someone
without
conservative
Christian
beliefs
could
not
have
been
 sensitive
enough
to
explore
Jone’s
beliefs
and
values
while
asking
questions
that
 may
have
resulted
in
a
similar
outcome.


 
 From
Therapy
to
Politics
(and
back
again):

Bridging
the
modern
with
the
post­ modern.
 
 All
indications
in
current
social
science
research
point
to
an
exponential
 global
increase
in
the
quantity
and
pace
in
which
secular
and
religious
conversions,
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 deconversions
and
migrations
are
taking
place.

The
political,
sociological
and
 psychological
issues
that
these
changes
cause
are
apparent
in
the
sampling
of
 current
events
and
individual
accounts
(including
my
own)
mentioned
in
this
 103
 paper.

They
highlight
the
need
for
a
revised
form
of
secularity,
which
I
have
argued,
 can
accommodate
the
pluralistic
interactions
needed
to
relieve
the
pressure
of
 choosing
between
secular
or
religious
conformity.

The
role
of
therapy
for
 facilitating
these
post‐secular
conditions
is
therefore,
not
just
‘therapeutic’
but
also
 by
necessity
political
since
it
has
been
therapy
that
has
been
a
primary
delivery
 system
for
the
ideologies
of
modern
secular
humanism.

The
therapeutic
turn
from
 a
hermeneutic
of
sin,
evil
and
spiritual
misdirection
to
one
of
pathology
and
 sickness
says
Taylor,
has
at
best
ambiguous
results
for
human
dignity.


 Casting
off
religion
was
meant
to
free
us,
give
us
our
full
dignity
as
agents;
 throwing
off
the
tutelage
of
religion,
hence
of
the
church,
hence
of
the
clergy.
 But
now
we
are
forced
to
go
to
new
experts,
therapists,
doctors,
who
 exercise
the
kind
of
control
that
is
appropriate
over
blind
and
compulsive
 mechanisms;
who
may
even
be
administering
drugs
to
us.
Our
sick
selves
are
 even
more
talked
down
to,
just
treated
as
things,
than
were
faithful
of
yore
 in
churches.
(2007,
p.
620)
 
 The
choice
of
roles
for
therapy
in
this
coming
century
is
not
a
neutral
one.

How
will
 it
respond
to
its
own
contributions
to,
and
subsequent
participation
in,
the
 problems
that
displacing
religion
from
public
discourses
of
understanding
is
 causing?

 The
integration
of
religion
and
spirituality
into
public
discourse
and
into
 therapeutic
practices
is
not
made
any
less
difficult
in
light
of
political
consequences.

 It
is
not
only
people
seeking
help
with
problems
that
are
subject
to
the
strain
of
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 secularism’s
dichotomous
relationship
with
religion
and
spirituality
but
also
 104
 therapists.

In
two
separate
studies
(Carlson,
et
al.,
2002;
Plumb,
2011)

attempting
 to
understand
therapist’s
views
of
and
readiness
to
integrate
religion
and
 spirituality
into
therapy,
it
was
found
that
a
majority
(90th
percentile)
of
therapist
 respondents
agreed
strongly
that
religion
and
spirituality
matter
to
psychological
 well‐being

and
needed
to
be
integrated
into
their
respective
practices.

Yet
less
 than
half
(40th
percentile)
in
each
study
were
actively
trying
to
do
this
despite
the
 fact
that
they
themselves
espoused
to
spiritual
and
religious
beliefs
and
practices
in
 their
own
lives.

Among
the
reasons
for
this
was
the
perception
among
the
 respondents
that
they
were
not
competent
enough
to
carry
out
this
integration
in
 an
ethical
manner.

In
both
studies
therapists’
perceptions
of
the
distinction
 between
religion
and
spirituality
also
played
a
role,
with
a
majority
more
 comfortable
addressing
spirituality
with
clients
who
initiated
the
conversation.


 Speaking
about
religion
(especially
any
references
to
God)
was
generally
thought
to
 be
something
that
needed
to
be
avoided
and
even
discouraged.

Therapists
cited
 their
concerns
about
being
perceived
as
projecting
their
own
values
or
of
 proselytizing.

 I
argue
that
the
mixed
impact
of
the
modern
secular
and
‘the
spiritual
but
 not
religious’
discourses
are
strongly
implied
in
these
findings.

The
discomfort
and
 lack
of
competency
voiced
by
therapists
is
not
as
ethically
straightforward
as
it
may
 seem.


It
reveals
the
extent
to
which
therapists
believe
they
need
to
be
(but
are
also
 uncomfortable
with)
objectively
assessing
the
‘truth­value’
of
a
client’s
way
of
 making
meaning
of
experience.

From
the
perspective
of
a
deconstructed
secularism
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 and
from
a
therapy
informed
by
a
post‐structural
discourse
analysis
it
might
be
 105
 asked:
Why
shouldn’t
the
hesitations
and
ethical
sensitivities
that
therapists
have
 toward
exploring
a
client’s
religious
beliefs
not
also
apply
to
all
other
perceived
 types
of
values
and
beliefs
that
people
choose
to
give
meaning
to
their
experience?
 How
is
the
therapist
any
more
(or
less)
objectively
qualified
to
explore
and
evaluate
 nonreligious
ones?

Framed
this
way
I
would
argue
that
the
hesitation
of
therapists
 to
address
and
integrate
spirituality
and
religion
in
therapeutic
practice
discloses
 the
abuses
of
knowledge
already
unintentionally
consented
to
by
therapists
(and
 clients)
under
the
secular
gaze.

 
 An
interesting
result
in
the
Carlson
et
al.,
study
was
that
45%
of
the
therapist
 respondents
selected
narrative
therapy
as
most
suited
for
“dealing”
with
religion
 and
spirituality
in
therapy.
Of
that
45%,
only
17%
indicated
they
were
influenced
 by
narrative
therapy
in
their
work.

The
authors
of
the
study
were
at
a
loss
to
 account
for
this
finding
but
did
suggest
that:

 Postmodern/social
constructionist
therapies
like
narrative
therapy
tend
to
 be
meaning‐focused
rather
than
behavior‐focused...
In
this
context,
 spirituality
and
religion
become
one
set
of
beliefs
that
can
be
explored
to
help
 persons
give
meaning
to
their
experiences.
(2002,
p.
169
italics
mine)
 
 What
these
researchers
imply
is
that
for
the
narrative
therapist
religious
beliefs
are
 not
necessarily
viewed
as
more
or
less
legitimate
from
other
kinds
of
ideas
or
 beliefs

—a
point
that
in
most
modern
approaches
is
not
always
acknowledged.
 By
drawing
upon
a
two‐way
accounting
of
the
therapeutic
relationship,
the
 pressures
put
on
therapist
to
decide
whether
they
have
the
knowledge
and
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 106
 authority
to
address
a
client’s
beliefs
can
be
significantly
relieved.

Catrina
Brown
 (2006)
offers
a
clear
explanation
of
the
alternatives
available
to
therapists
by
 advocating
for
a
collaborative
therapeutic
stance
in
which
“knowledge
is
never
 innocent
and
power
is
never
constraining”
(p.
3).
 Rather
than
the
traditional
position
of
the
expert,
all
knowing
therapist
or
its
 mirror
twin,
the
“not
knowing
therapist,”

I…
argue
that
both
the
therapist
 and
client
are
“partial
knowers.”

As
such,
both
bring
knowledge
and
agency
 to
the
conversation….
Next
I
argue
that
therapists
must
be
positioned
or
take
 a
stance
in,
their
interpretation
of
clients’
stories
if
they
are
to
challenge
 internalized
oppressive
discourses
within
clients’
stories
and
be
helpful
in
 the
creation
of
alternative
stories.
(p.
4)
 
 This
alternative
stance
continues
Brown,
permits
taking
a
position
against
 oppressive
discourses
beyond
the
positions
of
objectivism
and
relativism
that
 typify
the
modern
and
post‐modern.

It
implies
an
approach
that
draws
strength
 from
the
modern
vision
for
social
justice
and
human
emancipation
while
rejecting
 its
subsequent
belief
in
value‐free
knowledge
and
consequent
essentializing
of
 human
nature.

Likewise
it
draws
advantages
from
the
deconstruction
processes
of
 post‐structuralism
while
abandoning
the
tendency
for
relativism
that
would
render
 all
stories
as
equal
(p.
10).

Haraway
(1988)
articulates
this
well.
 The
“equality”
of
positioning
is
a
denial
of
responsibility
and
critical
inquiry.
 Relativism
is
the
perfect
mirror
twin
or
totalization
of
the
ideologies
of
 objectivity,
both
deny
the
stakes
in
location,
embodiment
and
partial
 perspective;
both
make
it
impossible
to
see
well.
Relativism
and
totalization
 are
both
“god
tricks”
promising
vision
from
everywhere
and
nowhere
 equally
and
fully.
(as
cited
in
Brown,
2006,
pp.
10‐11)
 
 I
believe
that
Brown
and
Augusta‐Scott’s
rendering
of
White’s
ideas
for
 understanding
therapists
and
clients
as
active
co‐authoring
subjects
in
the
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 107
 deconstruction
(and
consequent
construction)
of
reality
offers
a
politically
engaged
 and
therapeutically
effective
transformation
of
modern
therapy.

The
constraining
 pressures
caused
by
modern
secular
and
religious
searches
for
final
‘blueprints’
of
 reality
can
be
abandoned
for
the
creative
tensions
of
possibility
produced
in
 conversations
that
safe
guard
against
the
fallacies
of
absolutism
and
relativism.

The
 safe
guard
however,
is
not
in
gaining
more
objectivity
or
value
neutrality
(being
 ‘nowhere
and
everywhere’)
but
in
a
relational
process
that
accepts
and
does
not
 despair
in
the
constant
revisions
of
meaning
needed
to
move
us
toward
more
 preferred
accounts
of
our
experience.

This
relational
tension
contributes
to
what
I
 have
been
advocating
as
the
political
and
therapeutic
significance
of
narrative
 therapy
as
a
post‐secular
practice.

It
is
the
‘how
to’
expression
of
the
‘fugitive
 abundance
of
being’
and
the
‘politics
of
becoming’
envisioned
by
Connelly
and
by
 Taylor
mentioned
in
Part
I.

In
an
interview
with
Lesley
Allen,
White
(1995)
offers
a
 concise
expression
of
therapy
as
I
would
interpret
it
as
a
post‐secular
practice
that
 is
both
therapeutic
and
political.

 Lesley:

I
can
understand
how
helping
young
women
to
identify
and
 challenge
the
various
practices
of
self‐subjugation
[to
anorexia
nervosa]
 would
be
freeing
of
them.
 White:
Yes.
Not
freeing
them
to
be
truly
who
they
really
are,
but
in
fact,
 freeing
them
from
the
‘real’.

And
I
would
hope
that
the
sort
of
 considerations
that
we
are
discussing
here
might
assist
us
to
resist
the
great
 incitement
of
popular
psychology
to
tyrannize
ourselves
into
a
state
of
 ‘authenticity’
—that
these
sort
of
considerations
might
open
up
certain
 possibilities
for
us
to
refuse
‘wholeness’,
to
protest
‘personal
growth’,
to
 usurp
the
various
states
of
‘realness’.
To
open
up
the
possibilities
for
us
to
 default,
and
break
from
the
sort
of
gymnastics
that
regulate
these
states
of
 being,
that
make
all
of
this
possible.
(as
cited
in
Payne,
2006,
p.
159)
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 Who
is
this
‘I’
?

The
limitations
of,
and
possibilities
for
narrative
therapy
from
a
 phenomenological
perspective.
 
 108
 I
have
attempted
to
establish
that
the
‘text
analogy’
from
which
narrative
 therapy
operates,
has
given
rise
to
useful
ways
for
therapists
and
their
 conversational
partners
to
move
beyond
the
felt
pressure
and
constraining
effects
 of
secular
and
religious
discourses.

The
post‐structural
and
social
constructionist
 ideas
that
are
supported
by
the
‘text
analogy’
however,
may
have
some
limitations
 when
used
to
further
explore
concepts
like
agency
and
self.

This
becomes
more
 evident
as
many
expressions
of
spiritual
experience
bear‐out
their
incongruence
 with
the
anti‐realism
of
some
postmodern
perspectives.


 Elsewhere
(Part
II),
mention
has
been
made
to
the
advancements
 philosophers
and
theologians
of
religion
are
making
in
expressing
spirituality
in
 light
of
post‐modern
theory.

In
general
however,
the
traditional
metaphysical
 language
and
meanings
of
religious
and
spiritual
concepts
can
be
quite
at
odds
with
 the
anti‐realism
sometimes
implied
in
the
narrative
therapy
approach.

For
 example,
in
many
religious
and
spiritual
traditions
the
states
of
consciousness
 associated
with
spiritual
experiences
are
considered
‘extra‐textual’
(beyond
 words).

In
these
states
experiences
of
self,
ego,
and
subjective
agency\choice
can
 be
paradoxically
affirmed,
temporarily
suspended
or
annihilated.

This
may
present
 a
challenge
to
a
narrative
therapist
unfamiliar
with
the
(realist
and
anti‐realist)
use
 of
traditional
religious
terms.

Words
like
‘repentance’
and
‘forgiven’
or
‘surrender’
 and
‘saved’,
within
the
Christian
tradition
for
example,
can
be
for
the
believer
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 expressions
of
freedom
and
renewed
agency.

But
for
someone
else
such
 109
 expressions
might
be
thought
of
as
oppressive
—especially
for
the
therapist
who
is
 not
careful
to
understand
the
meaning
and
application
of
these
words
towards
a
 person’s
preferred
account
of
their
life.

The
potential
for
these
types
of
 misunderstandings
may
be
made
worse
by
‘the
spiritual
but
not
religious’
discourse
 that
tends
to
bias
traditional
religious
expressions
and
practices
as
subjugating.

A
 good
example
of
this
is
illustrated
in
the
first
three
steps
of
the
Alcoholics
 Anonymous
program
where
the
idea
of
submission
to
a
power
beyond
one’s
self
 precludes
the
overcoming
of
one’s
problem.

For
many
such
a
capitulation
to
a
 higher
power
can
be
paradoxically
experienced
as
a
path
to
greater
agency
and
a
 renewed
sense
of
self,
yet
for
others
this
idea
is
meaningless
and
disabling.

And
 there
is
of
course
the
possibility
in
which
there
are
both
helpful
and
harmful
 implications
to
this
way
of
understanding.
 The
language
used
in
many
religious
traditions
and
spiritualities
generally
 assume
a
distinction
between
one’s
sense
of
‘being’
and
the
meaning
given
to
one’s
 life.

That
this
distinction
is
often
rejected,
viewed
as
illusory
or
‘deferred’
in
social
 constructionism,
some
view
as
a
limitation
for
narrative
therapy
because
it
does
not
 attend
to
the
directly
‘experiential’
ways
that
people
can
respond
to
others
and
to
 situations
(Brown,
2006;
Held
&
Cohen,
1995;
Michel
&
Wortham,
2002;
Richert,
 2002b).

CJ
Sharp
(2006)
for
example,
concedes
that
traditionally
counselling
has
 focused
too
much
on
the
personal
phenomenological
experience
of
self‐hood
and
 not
enough
on
the
socially
constructed
influences
upon
experience.

Nevertheless
 he
contends
that
spirituality
and
phenomenology
offer
important
perspectives
on
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 ‘self’
that
benefit
from
being
in
paradoxical
relation
to
social
constructionism.

 Central
to
Sharps
(and
others)
argument
is
that
the
text‐analogy
ignores
the
 110
 embodied
element
of
language
thereby
reducing
the
‘experiencing’
self
to
mere
acts
 of
cognition.

The
questions
‘what
does
my
life
mean?’
and
‘who
am
I’
thus
collapse
 reductively
into
one
another
closing
the
space
from
which
agency
is
conceived.

 Drawing
from
phenomenologist’s
such
as
Eugene
Gendlin
(1997)
and
David
Zahavi
 (1998)
he
argues
that
we
cannot
regard
consciousness
as
wholly
constructed
by
 external
‘languaged’
factors
since
to
do
so
would
by
implication
remove
any
claim
 to
individual
agency.

Put
another
way:
If
I’
am
not
—as
post‐structuralism
would
 have
it—
the
author
of
my
own
semantic
intentions,
then
who
am
I?

Sharp
builds
a
 case
that
self‐awareness
is
more
than
the
difference
between
articulated
responses
 to
other
people
who
I
perceive
to
share
in
that
experience.

 The
awareness
that
I
have
of
being
in
a
first‐person
relationship
to
that
 which
is
given
to
consciousness
is
both
given
of
my
status
as
a
subject
and
 the
grounds
on
which
I
can
be
certain
that
said
status
accurately
reflects
the
 nature
of
my
conscious
experience.
The
presentation
of
any
experience
 linguistically
immediately
shifts
the
experience
to
a
socially
constructed
act
 of
representation
rather
than
a
personal
holistic
felt
meaning.

At
the
point
it
 could
perhaps
be
argued
that
the
meaning
of
my
experience
is
now
a
public,
 socially
determined
sequence
of
signs,
but
at
the
point
of
being
experienced
 it
has
an
intrinsic
myness.
(Sharp,
2006,
p.
70)
 
 Cohen
and
Held
in
their
book
Back
to
Reality
(1995)
directly
critique
 narrative
therapy’s
application
of
the
text
analogy
to
human
‘being’
and
highlight
 the
problems
of
pursuing
individual
agency
from
within
a
social
constructionist
 epistemology.

Specifically
they
argue
that
narrative
therapy
has
a
‘built
in’
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 111
 discrepancy
between
the
theoretical
ideas
it
propounds
and
the
practice
it
is
meant
 to
guide
(p.
135).


 The
narrative
therapy
movement
says
that
our
narratives
do
not
give
us
any
 extralinguistic
reality,
since
we
can
never
get
outside
of
language
to
know
 reality
as
it
really
is,
independent
of
the
knower’s
language.
However,
that
 movement
also
assumes
—at
least
implicitly—
that
we
can
know
what
 narratives
really
exist
in
the
social
community
to
which
we
turn
to
legitimate
 our
linguistic
constructions/narratives,
including
our
scientific
theories,
the
 stories
client’s
tell
us,
and
the
stories
we
tell
ourselves,
our
clients
and
each
 other.
These
are
stories
we
can
presumably
know
as
stories.
(p.
155)
 
 For
Cohen
and
Held,
narrative
therapy
oscillates
between
the
anti‐realism
that
they
 claim
informs
its
practices
and
the
realism
implied
by
the
practice
itself.
This
 realism
they
argue
centers
around
the
presumption
that
the
client
(and
therapist)
is
 the
stories
author
and
that
the
story
has
real
causal
effects
upon
life.

Again,
the
 question
of
“who
am
I”
(a
story
teller\reader)
remains
distinct
but
not
entirely
 separate
from
the
question
of
“what
does
my
life
mean”
(how
do
I
makes
sense
out
 the
story
of
what
is
happening
to
me).


 Most
narrative
therapists
say
Cohen
and
Held,
are
unaware
of
the
modest
 realism
that
they
attend
to
in
their
practice.

While
I
see
legitimacy
to
parts
of
their
 argument
I
break
from
the
intentions
of
their
critique
by
asking
what
‘real’
 problems
this
logical
incongruence
has
on
the
effectiveness
of
the
therapy
itself?

I
 see
no
point
to
the
critique
if
it
means
advocating
a
return
to
an
equally
as
 problematic
modern
structuralist
and\or
humanist
approach.

Additionally
I
do
not
 necessarily
think
it
is
fair
to
say
that
narrative
therapy
is
propositionally
anti‐ realist.

The
idea
of
being
continually
freed
from
static
notions
of
what
is
considered
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 112
 ‘real’
(see
White
above)
is
not
the
same
as
taking
an
anti‐realist
position.

Narrative
 therapy
might
be
better
understood
as
implying
non‐realism,
critical
realism
or
 perhaps
even
hyper‐realism
since
the
word
‘reality’
is
also
understood
to
be
a
 negotiated
concept.
This
frees
narrative
therapy
to
be
more
open
to
the
language
 and
concepts
of
religion
and
spirituality
(as
well
as
the
philosophy
of
 phenomenology)
and
prevents
it
from
slipping
from
discourse
to
an
ideology
that
 tries
to
‘convert’
its
participants
to
post‐modernism.

 In
a
critical
constructivist\narrative
conceptualization,
self
is
the
story
and
 crucial
to
it
the
interplay
between
the
I
(awareness
of
one’s
own
experiencing)
and
 the
array
of
Mes
(relating
to
multiple
self\other
aspects).

What
is
added
in
this
idea
 says
Alphons
Richert
(2002a)
is
that
the

I
as
narrator
(an
aspect
of
self)
is
a
process
 of
carrying
forward
felt
experience
distinct
but
not
separate
from
generated
 meanings
(pp.
85‐86).


Awareness
of
self
as
author
is
thus
seen
as
an
important
 aspect
of
agency
which
might
be
described
as
a
dialogical
movement
between
 ontology
‘Who
am
I?’
and
epistemology
‘What
does
my
life
mean?’


Similarly
Michel
 and
Wortham
(2002)
argue
that
sometimes
problem
saturated
stories
implicitly
 constrain
the
production
of
preferred
stories.

They
(like
Gendlin)
give
illustrations
 of
how
people
can
act
spontaneously
on
the
constraints
of
situations
when
their
 identification
and
pre‐occupation
of
an
abstract
sense
of
self
is
cleared
away.

Such
 accounts
they
say
can
give
lived
experience
primacy
over
‘text’
(pp.
8‐10).

The
 Buddhist
practice
of
mindfulness
and
the
Christian
practice
of
contemplation
for
 example,
can
be
seen
as
explicitly
tied
to
such
‘clearings’.

Importantly,
in
neither
of
 these
proposals
is
the
self
essentialized
as
‘text‐less’
or
completely
separate
from
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 113
 story.

Rather
there
is
a
dynamic
in
which
language
and
‘experience’
outstrip
one
 another
to
produce
new
manifestations
of
each.

 
There
are
many
possible
ways
in
which
expressions
of
religious\spiritual
 experiences
and
the
philosophy
of
phenomenology
can
work
creatively
with
the
 insights
of
post‐structuralism
and
social
constructionism
to
takes
seriously
the
 ‘hard
problem’
of
human
consciousness.

The
challenge
I
see
for
narrative
therapy
 as
a
decidedly
social
constructionist
practice
is
to
ensure
it
does
not
limit
the
 directions
it
may
take
in
exploring
the
ways
individuals
can
identify
directly
with
 lived
experience
as
it
emerges
from
and
gives
rise
to
‘text’
(imagined
and
enacted
 categories
of
self).

Such
possibilities
would
put
more
emphasis
in
applying
 decentring
practices
to
the
exploration
of
emotion
and
bodily
‘felt
sense’
(Gendlin,
 1997;
Gendlin
&
Levin,
1997).


These
could
be
particularly
helpful
in
further
 ‘unpacking’
and
exploring
religious
language
and
experience
in
therapy
(Behan,
et
 al.,
2006).

 Summary
&
Conclusion
 Using
autoethnographic
accounts,
as
well
as
current
events
and
recent
 research
from
a
variety
of
disciplines,
this
work
has
intended
to
provide
a
 compelling
context
within
which
to
investigate
the
limitations
of
modern
 secularism.

In
confusing
the
separation
of
church
and
state
with
the
triumph
of
 science
and
reason
over
religion
and
faith,
the
modern
secular
project
has
produced
 a
pressured
situation
that
has
constrained
perceptions
of
how
problem
solving
can
 occur
both
politically
and
therapeutically.

Constituents
of
secular
societies
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 114
 (especially
in
the
west)
can
be
conditioned
to
think
that
religious
and\or
spiritual
 values
and
beliefs
are
inappropriate
and
inadequate
resources
for
addressing
 problems
both
in
their
own
private
lives
as
well
in
the
communities
in
which
they
 interact.

The
pursuit
of
shared
meaning
under
the
‘gaze’
of
modern
secularism
has
 instead
predicated
itself
on
the
promise
of
a
‘neutral’
common
sense
view
of
the
 world
in
which
objective
scientific
knowledge
will
free
us
to
discover
who
we
 ‘really’
are.

This
so
called
neutrality
however,
is
increasingly
being
shown
by
the
 perspectives
of
post‐structuralism
and
social
constructionism,
to
be
as
influenced
 by
the
subjective
experiences
and
value
laden
construal’s
of
language
and
culture,
 as
the
religious
ones
that
secularism
has
sought
to
emancipate
the
public
from.


 The
effects
of
secular
conceit
have
ironically
produced
the
conditions
for
the
 strong
persistence
of
religion
and
spirituality
—despite
the
statistical
decline
in
 traditional
religious
practice.

Wholly
immanent
and
material
renderings
of
the
 universe
seem
to
have
only
increased
the
desire
for
‘transcendent’
experience.

 Religious
fundamentalism
for
example,
has
emerged
as
a
reaction
to
the
modern
 secular
attempt
to
‘authorize’
what
is
considered
acceptable
influences
upon
public
 moral
decision‐making.


Fundamentalists
however,
in
their
quest
for
religious
 certainty,
have
collapsed
faith
and
belief
into
objectivising
claims
that
only
mirror
 those
of
modern
science.

Strong
religious
and
anti‐religious
convictions
therefore,
 often
share
a
commonality;
one
that
further
reinforces
those
dichotomies
that
 prevent
diversity
of
belief
to
be
considered
an
asset
in
a
shared
vision
for
a
peaceful
 pluralistic
future.


 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 115
 The
competing
claims
of
the
modern
secular
and
religious
fundamentalist
 perspectives
have
also
contributed
to
the
rise
of
a
perceived
distinction
between
 religion
and
spirituality.

Those
discontented
with
the
conformity
demanded
by
the
 secular
and
religious
domains
have
instead
pursued
spiritualities
thought
to
 respect
the
individual
pursuit
of
the
‘transcendent’
and
a
common
vision
for
a
 pluralistic
society.


This
‘spiritual
but
not
religious’
discourse
has
thus
been
 influential
in
exposing
and
deconstructing
the
hegemonic
systems
of
knowledge
 and
power
in
both
secular
and
traditional
religious
perspectives.

 Under
the
conditions
mentioned
above
the
meaning
and
influence
of
the
 spiritual,
the
religious
and
the
secular
have
shifted
significantly.

I
have
made
a
case
 for
spirituality
as
distinct
but
not
separate
from
religion.

Whereas
spirituality
is
 given
to
the
awareness
of
and
trust
in,
the
changing
perceptions
of
self
and
other
in
 relationship,
religion
adds
to
this
the
attempt
to
represent
and
order
beliefs,
 feelings,
imaginings
and
actions
(traditional
or
otherwise)
that
arise
in
response
to
 direct
experience
of
these
changes
in
perception.


Research
attempting
to
 historically
track
and
define
these
terms
cannot
therefore,
claim
to
do
so
from
a
 neutral
secular
vantage
point.

Rather,
research
—especially
with
regard
to
religion
 and
spirituality—
is
more
effective
when
it
includes
expressions
of
the
values
and
 beliefs
that
have
influenced
the
methods
of
investigation
and
the
interpretation
of
 results.


 The
therapeutic
enterprise
I
argue
has
been
one
of
the
primary
delivery
 systems
of
modern
secularism.

Psychotherapy
(and
its
research
methods)
in
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 particular
has
served
to
further
reinforce
the
subjugation
of
knowledge
and
 116
 experience
that
are
not
seen
as
congruent
with
modern
structualist
and\or
secular
 humanist
perspectives.

As
a
consequence
both
the
therapist
and
those
persons
 seeking
their
help,
come
under
the
strain
of
having
to
disingenuously
dissociate
 themselves
from
those
values
and
beliefs
that
may
be
potential
‘therapeutic’
 resources.

Current
research,
while
indicating
the
need
for,
and
willingness
to
 integrate
conversations
about
religion
and
spirituality
into
the
therapeutic
 relationship
and
process,
is
also
revealing
the
hesitation
of
therapists
to
enact
such
 integration
due
to
the
perceived
ethical
risks.


 My
exploration
and
account
of
modern
secular
theory
and
therapy
is
one
 that
expresses
the
need
for
a
revised
secularity
—a
post
secular
era—
in
which
faith
 and
belief
not
be
exempted
from
the
‘place
‘of
public
moral
decision
but
rather,
 where
there
is
discursive
‘space’
for
both
religious
and
nonreligious
options
to
be
 sought
and
influential.

While
there
is
every
indication
in
research
and
in
popular
 opinion
that
a
change
in
the
‘social
imaginary’
is
needed,
there
is
also
little
being
 written
or
said
about
the
practices
that
might
make
such
change
possible.


 How
can
narrative
therapy
be
a
post­secular
practice
that
addresses
 religion
and
spirituality
in
both
therapeutically
and
politically
significant
 ways?

 To
answer
this
research
question
I
have
emphasized
that
narrative
therapy
 offers
a
much‐revised
understanding
of
therapy
and
the
purpose
of
the
therapeutic
 relationship.

It
is
positioned
to
not
only
address
religion
and
spirituality,
but
also
to
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 117
 challenge
the
assumptions
of
modern
secular
ideologies.

Formed
from
within
the
 post‐structualist
and
social
constructionist
perspectives,
narrative
therapy
holds
 that
meaning
is
negotiated
in
the
languaged
context
of
lived
experience.

The
 therapeutic
relationship
is
thus
a
collaborative
affair
where
the
knowledge
of
 therapist
and
client
work
toward
developing
more
preferred
accounts
(stories)
of
 life.

It
is
not
(by
contrast)
the
process
of
mining
out
irrational
beliefs
and
freeing
 people
from
various
types
of
unconscious
repression.
 By
reframing
the
therapeutic
relationship
as
a
two‐way
—rather
than
the
 ‘expert’
one‐way—
account
of
interaction,
narrative
therapy
can
free
both
therapist
 and
client
to
contribute
meaningfully
and
ethically
to
the
therapeutic
process.
The
 therapist
is
influential
but
also
‘decentered’
—careful
to
adopt
a
‘response
posture’
 characterized
by
curiosity
and
not
suspicion.

Guiding
the
therapeutic
process
are
 ‘conversational
maps’
(lines
of
questioning)
which
aim
to
‘scaffold’
and
connect
 insights
from
the
experience
of
what
is
known
and
familiar
towards
thoughts,
 feelings
and
actions
that
are
possible
and
preferred.

Problems,
preferences,
 feelings,
ideas,
values
and
beliefs
of
all
types
are
externalized
and
explored
as
 separate
from,
but
influential
in,
a
person’s
changing
sense‐of‐self
and
identity.
 Most
importantly,
for
the
narrative
therapist
there
are
no
neutral
objective
 positions
from
which
to
decide
either
for
or
with
the
client,
what
beliefs
and
values
 are
right
or
wrong,
rational
or
irrational,
harmful
or
helpful.

Instead
the
 importance
of
beliefs
and
values
are
explored
within
subjective
experience
in
light
 of
the
social
discourses
that
produce
and
re‐enforce
them.

This
way
of
engaging
in
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 118
 the
therapeutic
endeavor
is
significant
for
building
and
maintaining
the
dignity
and
 agency
of
people
seeking
a
change
in
their
experience.

It
releases
the
pressure
both
 therapists
and
clients
often
feel
to
“fix”
psychological
problems
by
appraising
the
 ‘truth‐value’
of
their
beliefs

—especially
those
thought
to
be
religious
or
spiritually
 held.

Such
a
release,
I
have
argued
does
not
diminish
but
rather
reinforces
the
need
 for
therapists
and
clients
to
take
full
responsibility
for
the
way
their
choose
to
live
 out
their
values
and
beliefs.

 By
implication
narrative
therapy
is
always
politically
engaged
because
it
 operates
within
an
ongoing
context
of
identifying
and
deconstructing
those
 discourses
(religious,
spiritual,
secular)
that
constitute
human
meaning
making
and
 experience.

This
applies
both
to
the
meaning
making
of
the
therapist,
the
client
and
 to
those
discourses
that
inform
the
practice
of
narrative
therapy
itself.

In
this
way
 narrative
therapy
treads
a
path
between
the
extremes
of
a
relativism
that
deems
all
 positions
and
stories
as
equal,
and
an
objectivism
that
attempts
to
essentialize
 human
nature
and
absolutize
human
knowledge
claims.

The
political
significance
of
 narrative
therapy,
I
can
say
from
personal
experience,
can
be
felt
very
quickly
in
 public
professional
(and
private
religious)
contexts
in
which
assumptions
about
 subjects
such
as
religion
and
gender
are
challenged
by
simply
placing
emphasis
on
 the
client’s
own
account
of
their
experience.

Narrative
therapists
can
be
falsely
 accused
of
‘colluding’
with
people
when
the
systems
of
knowledge
and
power
that
 contract
their
service
(such
as
churches,
courts,
schools
and
social
services)
have
 the
expectation
that
the
therapist’s
job
is
to
‘uncover’
and
judge
the
‘truth’
of
a
 client’s
values
and
beliefs.


 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 
 Finally,
for
the
sake
of
further
research
I
have
hinted
at
the
potential
 119
 application
of
narrative
therapy
outside
of
the
therapeutic
context
and
also
 highlighted
some
of
the
limitations
narrative
therapy
may
have
in
working
with
 religious
and
spiritual
concepts
and
language.

In
terms
of
the
former
I
believe
 narrative
therapies
decentring
and
externalizing
practices
could
be
adapted
for
use
 outside
of
therapy.
I
have
noticed
that
my
own
way
of
engaging
friends,
family
and
 strangers
has
been
altered
since
I
began
taking
seriously
narrative
ways
of
 engaging.

Specifically
there
could
be
further
research
done
on
the
use
of
such
 practices
in
education
since
the
classroom
(at
all
levels)
is
another
‘place’
where
 ‘space’
is
often
restricted
by
modern
secular
expectations.


Students
in
post‐ secondary
settings
for
example
are
often
shown
to
unnecessarily
struggle
because
 they
are
not
given
sufficient
‘space’
to
publically
process
their
shifting
values
and
 beliefs
in
light
of
the
new
knowledge
and
experience
they
are
acquiring
(Astin,
et
al.,
 2010;
Kane
&
Jacobs,
2010).

 
 As
mentioned,
the
social
constructionist
and
post‐structural
ideas

—guided
 as
they
often
are
by
the
‘text
analogy’
are
ideal
for
the
deconstruction
of
social
 discourses
and
for
investigating
the
context
of
privately
held
values
and
beliefs.
 They
are
not
however,
always
congruent
with
those
ideas
about
self,
agency
and
 subjective
experience
found
in
religious
and
spiritual
language.

Nor
do
they
fit
well
 with
insights
in
existential
philosophy
and
phenomenology
that
tackle
the
hard
 problems
associated
with
understanding
first
person
experiencing
and
 consciousness.

Analogous
to
the
incompatibility
of
the
major
theories
in
physics
 (relativity
and
quantum)
the
‘textual’
and
‘phenomenological’
ways
of
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
 120
 understanding
self
and
its
relations
could
benefit
from
the
pursuit
of
concepts
and
 metaphors
that
take
seriously
the
strengths
and
weaknesses
of
each.

Generally
 speaking
this
would
mean
trying
to
further
understand
the
relationship
between
 the
questions
‘who
am
I?’
and
‘what
does
my
life
mean’.


 
 In
keeping
with
the
title
of
this
paper
I
hope
to
have
been
suggestive
of
a
 type
of
inter‐subjective
relating
that
is
both
potent
and
freeing
enough
to
facilitate
a
 post‐secular
era
of
pluralistic
engagement.

Narrative
therapy
practices
I
would
like
 to
conclude
not
only
address
religion
and
spirituality
in
politically
and
 therapeutically
significant
ways
but
do
so
by
‘keeping
faith’.

By
faith
I
hearken
to
 the
notion
of
trust
and
assert
this
as
a
central
feature
of
the
therapeutic
 relationship.

However,
in
the
context
of
the
post‐secular
engagement
for
which
I’
 am
advocating,
faith
is
not
‘grounded’
in
a
person,
a
belief,
theory,
or
any
system
of
 thought
but
‘found’
in
trusting
the
process
of
relating
that
make
all
of
these
the
 potential
resources
that
enrich
our
lives.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 KEEPING
FAITH,
EXTERNALIZING
BELIEF
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