Conversion

The traditional monastic vow of conversatio morum, "conversion of manners," speaks of a commitment to permanent change and therefore of vulnerability. Insofar as our baptismal call is to live within the power of the Resurrection, this vulnerability is entirely appropriate. An important icon of risen life has Jesus present to his disciples with open wounds. Woundedness retains its depth even if transfigured and glorified.

Although we think of monasticism primarily in terms of stability, a desire for and commitment to change as a condition of living is also central to the Rule of St Benedict. The early desert fathers and mothers recommended to their disciples, "Stay in your cell and it will teach you everything." Clearly it is important not to run away from where our struggles are based. That is what stability implies.

The danger of so-called conversion experiences, particularly in our Western consumer culture, is that the language we use can give the impression that a task has been fully accomplished. We will now live happily ever after. We have arrived at a condition of rest that is human perfection. But in fact the reality is not like this and everything is not under control. Conversion is more likely to mean that things, perhaps for the first time in our lives, get out of control. To be transfigured like Jesus we need to die. But real dying involves losing the illusion of control. That is why it is such a struggle. Conversion is always to another state of provisionality rather than a simple movement from chaos and uncertainty to the rock of invulnerability.

The goal of the spiritual journey - God - is ever-expanding as far as our perceptions are concerned. The experience is not a commodity called "perfection" but a process of being continually filled. It involves responsiveness rather than grasping. For this, we have to give up the search for the horizons we find so necessary as humans - especially tangible progress and visible success. Conversion leads us to respond only to "coordinates of grace" rather than to expectations, our own or others people's.

So, conversion is a time of chaos, searching and the loss of paradigms. Yet it is, at the same time, a period of choice and creativity. In its spiritual dimension, true conversion involves both grieving and celebration. As with all change in general, there is a turning away from something and a turning to a new direction. 

In both human loving and our love of God, the conversion process is one of decentring: that is, of moving beyond seeing the self as the unquestioned centre of reality. The deep change that is involved in conversion is a radical surrender but a surrender in love. Only falling in love, both with another person and with God, makes it really possible for us to surrender the self to any significant degree at all.

Philip Sheldrake