In my defense, I can only share that my concerns are sincere and flow out of my own experiences, both personal and pastoral. I've had a niggling concern about contemplative practices in Christian spaces that has been bothering me for some time. In this series those concerns will get a public airing.
What I want to suggest is that contemplation, as practiced by many Christians, is haunted by elitism. Not all of it, but some of it. How much I'll leave for you to decide. At the very least, contemplative practices are tempted by elitism. I have three observations I'll share to make this point. Today is the first.
This first observation is the most debatable. I feel much more confident in my second and third observations that I'm standing on solid, albeit contested, ground. But this first observation is built around personal impressions, and personal impressions are highly selective. I can only see the world out of my own eyes, but my view is bounded and limited by my experiences. My view is only the smallest of slices of what is going on in the world.
In short, I'll share here my limited perspective knowing full well that your experiences might prove to be very different. I could be wrong in what I'm about to share.
Here's the observation: There is a bougie element at work in contemplative Christian circles. ("Bougie" or "boujee" being slang for bourgeois.)
What do I mean that Christian contemplative practices are bougie? I mean that, in my experience, Christian contemplative practices seem to thrive in elite, college-educated, and wealthy spaces.
For example, if a person is talking to you about "non-dualistic thinking" or dealing with "the false self" or about their recent experience at a retreat center, there is a high degree of probability that this person is college-educated and middle- to upper-class. To be clear, this isn't a damnable offense. I'm just saying that Christian contemplative practice has this bougie element.
The bougie contemplative retreat is a giveaway here. One has to have some means to afford the contemplative retreat, and some of these retreats cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars. Sometimes this is because the retreat features lovely, manicured grounds, good food and wine, and musical or visual artists. There is time for yoga and hiking. You can get a massage. And finally, there is a celebrity author who is the featured retreat leader. Books are for sell after the talks.
I've been on retreats like this, and I love them. Who wouldn't? And yet, all a little bougie.
And even when the experience itself isn't bougie, being able to have the experience is bougie. Consider, for example, walking the Camino de Santiago. You can make that journey very frugally. But online cost estimates for walking the Camino, which involves airfare to Spain, range from $2,000 to $4,000. The examples abound, from walking in the footsteps of St. Francis in Italy to hanging with the Celtic saints in Ireland to visiting the Holy Land, these experiences of contemplative world travel are all pretty bougie.
Again, let me be very clear, none of this is damning. Wealthy people are allowed to pursue contemplative experiences around the world. And yet, I have this nagging concern that if contemplative experiences cost hundreds to thousands of dollars, some bougie capitalistic element is darkly encroaching. If you're paying a celebrity to draw people to your retreat center, is that a good idea? If you have to travel internationally to experience spiritual transformation, is that worrisome? Are the wine, cheese, yoga, and featured artists helping or hurting?
How much of Christian contemplative practice is captured by this description of mine? I don't know. And again, my experiences are narrow and limited. But I expect you've seen this bougie element at work as well.
Now, if this was all had to say, I wouldn't have said anything. But I have other, related concerns as well.
