This essay suggests that a clearer understanding of violence and nonviolence as means to be used in the pursuit for justice will be achieved if we move the discussion of nonviolence to the domain of spirituality rather than ethics. A distinction is made between militant nonviolence and historic forms of pacifism and nonresistance, and it is argued that militant nonviolence only makes sense as a spirituality, rather than as an ethical demand. Finally it is argued that such a spirituality is essential for the pursuit of justice and some practical implications are drawn.

This article examines the anthropoloy of Ernest Becker through the medium of his notion of creatureliness which represents a dominant focus, especially in his later work. Two elements stand out in this consideration—self-esteem, which as a motivation disguises creaturehood and makes it bearable, and the fear of death, which is the final confirmation of creaturehood. After examining Becker's treatment of these elements, the article explores several dimensions of a religious view of creatureliness which have not been taken up in order to show that Becker is dealing with finitude rather than creatureliness. A fuller treatment of creatureliness would require an approach that does justice to these dimensions, and, if one wishes as Becker does to demonstrate a convergence between religion and the social sciences, it would require a more coherently developed method of correlation. The article concludes with an examination of the spirituality that emerges for Becker out of his perspective on the human.

An examination of major themes in Merton's writings on Zen; the ground out of which he met with Zen (theology as experienced in contemplation); his presentation of Zen enlightenment in terms of its effect on awareness; his movement from articulating Zen enlightenment as an experience of “being” to a presentation of it as a realization of “void”; and a positive analysis of his understanding of Zen from the writings of D. T. Suzuki and S. Hisamatsu.

The article is divided into two parts. The first deals with the subject of spiritual discernment in Christian tradition: its nature, importance in the spiritual life, and the aspects of the spiritual life on which it bears. The second part deals with Catherine of Siena's particular approach to the subject of discernment: an explanation of the three images she uses to illuminate the meaning and operation of discernment and an exploration of the theological sources of her teaching on this subject.

A survey of contemporary spirituality is obtained by addressing a basic set of questions to twelve recent books in this field. Five significant trends are noted and offered as an agenda for the future of Christian spirituality.

I must be honest from the start and confess the summary of my six years of teaching undergrads and five years of graduate students: being a “creative teacher” of spirituality in a system of education that is destructive both of spirituality and creativity is impossible. Education, like religion itself, cannot afford to succumb to privatization as if a “loneranger” teacher in spirituality could endure or carry on without a structure and a program that is based in sound theory and practice that itself sustains creativity and spirituality.

A recent graduate of our Institute in Creation-Centered Spirituality is now pursuing doctoral studies in theology, and his comment after his first semester at a renowned university was: “There is no spirituality in upper academia.” What he was experiencing was the absence of sensitivity to both right and left brains as sources for learning; the absence of sensitivity to making connections and therefore to the artist in self and society; the absence of synthesis or interdependence on the part of curriculum or faculty. What he was also undergoing was a deep experience of the malaise that education finds itself in today in the West—a crisis that, if attended to, also reveals an opportunity of staggering dimensions.

There is an old adage, “I hear and I forget, I see and I remember, I do and I understand.” In teaching courses on global poverty and hunger from a Christian perspective, one of my major concerns is how to educate for something more than a purely intellectual grasp of the problem. I call what I am aiming at personal understanding. It is an understanding that includes empathy with the suffering of the poor, the ability to critically analyze the causes of their suffering, and a sense of responsibility to alleviate their suffering. Without this type of understanding, the transformation of values, systems, and structures necessary for social change cannot occur. While readings, lectures, guest speakers, and films are a necessary and integral part of my courses, I find that, pedagogically, something more is needed. For me, it is the student project.

The contemporary religious seeker often experiences the feeling of being about to be quartered by wild horses running in opposite directions. Such a person recognizes the situation that Yeats describes in “The Second Coming”:

Discussion about women and spirituality can range from romanticized claims of special privilege to insistence that equality means sameness. Some typical questions focus the issues. “What is a women's spirituality?” “How is it different from male spirituality?” “What is spirituality, anyway?” And, “what is a feminist spirituality?” “Is it androgynous?” “Is it a stage on the way to something else?”