To 'be' or not to 'be'

Our journey in the spiritual life offers us many challenges. I need to balance a certain kind of rhythm with enough ease as not to be rigid; my interior prayer with enough outward good deeds so as not to be either passive or totally depleted. But most of all, I need to "be" what I say I want to be, instead of speaking in glowing terms, but in reality, settling for less.

Having convictions is troubling. It means standing up and moving on when the case warrants it. If you love security, possessions, or even connections, nothing could be harder than to move on into the unknown.

I was once told by a fellow religious that my struggles in religious life came because I was "too big to fit into the box." I've thought about that a great deal since. To be true to myself and what seemed to me to be my truth, I had to risk everything I knew and had. It was a tall order. But despite the fears of insecurity, the lack of roots, the isolation my decision has brought me, I have not regretted following my heart.

Life is like that. It is easy to have big ideals. It is harder to follow through on them. But if I have a tug in my heart that urges me to move, I will have no peace until I follow it. It makes no difference whether the move brings me to a permanent place or is just a temporary stay. There is something in that movement that I must learn, and can only learn by doing.

To 'be' means to become those insights, those great ideals that you have been given. Do not let them perish in the realm of the intellectual. They do no good there. Be courageous enough to journey toward that which you believe.

You never know the grace waiting for you there.

The practice of desire

Anyone serious about living a deeper spiritual life must be familiar with the Cloud of Unknowing, a work on Christian mysticism written in the late 14th century. The following quote is just a sample of the writing:

The access to heaven is in desire. The one who longs to be there is already there in spirit. The path to heaven is measured by desire and not by miles...and the spirit abides where its love abides as surely as it abides in the body which it fills with life.


Desire. It has the power to propel, to drive, to fuel our journey. It does not come on its own; we must ignite that fire.

That is why meditation and Lectio Divina are so essential in the spiritual life. It allows me to take a simple text and make it my own. It is the medium by which my soul absorbs the context and imbibes the spirit. My desires will remain sterile and theoretical without these habits. And I will know things, but not really know them in my inmost being.

If I would desire more, if I want to desire better, if I need fuel for my spiritual life, I need to stay with the practice of meditation and Lectio. Only then can my spiritual life become an ever more flaming fire of desire. It will put heaven within my reach.

Prayer

If you have not read Bernard Bro's book on Learning to Pray, I hope this long quote will be inspiring to you:

Every person, one day or another, becomes aware of her poverty as a creature. And since this experience is a crushing one, the natural temptation is therefore distractions, or as Pascal said, diversions...distractions appear as the opposite of prayer, a refusal of our real condition, an evasion of it in favor of illusion, dream, mirage.

...the first moment of true prayer occurs in the experience and awareness of one's limitations. ... prayer brings us back to what is most authentic in our quest for happiness. "The truth will set you free."  Prayer makes us free; it preserves what is most fragile and most precious in us: the integrity of our desire, that desire which, in final analysis, is nothing but the need for God.

And so, when I come face to face with the reality of my own poverty, I actually have come upon a moment of grace. I have the opportunity to enter into true prayer, and deepen my awareness of my need for God. This is a time when I must not be faint of heart, but go forward with great courage. For it is in prayer, true prayer, that I can become most authentic, and not let the truth I learn about myself be anything but a stepping block on my journey forward.

Loved by being vulnerable

The longer I live, the more I'm amazed at the human tendency to anger. I am not speaking about the ability to become angry. I am referring to the tendency to carry anger around inside ourselves for injuries or injustices carried out many long years ago. One pin prick, one little rub the wrong way, brings on an eruption like that of a seething volcano.

Perhaps that is why Heather King's words in her book Redeemed struck me as very profound: I thought I'd be loved by being strong, by carrying my own weight, by not needing anything. I'd never understood we are loved by being vulnerable (p. 189). King is speaking of her own anger at a relationship gone awry. In her reflections, she realizes she too has some blame to carry. In her desire to appear strong, she isolated herself.

Being vulnerable is important, not in order to soothe our own angry souls so much as to keep them aware of our real fragility.  We read in Phil. 4:13 I can do all things in him who strengthens me. But in doing, we sometimes risk forgetting our fragility. It is easy, especially when you have been on the spiritual journey for a long time, to believe that you are stronger than you really are.

Perhaps we should keep in mind another verse from Philippians: Though he was God, he did not deem equality with God something to grasp; instead, he emptied himself, taking on the human in all things, becoming humble, even unto death. Being vulnerable does not diminish us; it is rather the fact of our human existence. When we understand this, we remember where our strengths lie.

Only love can cast out fear

In John 4:18 we read There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment, and so one who fears is not yet perfect in love.

It is interesting that this reading does not say perfection or uprightness is the antidote to fear, but only love.

And yet, if we read the gospels, it would seem the opposite is true: that giving one's life to Jesus spells disaster. Think of the stories we read: The Magi were content people until they met Jesus. Then they had to flee for their lives for fear of Herod. Mary and Joseph seem quite normal people until Jesus comes along. Then they too have to fee into Egypt because of the threat of death. Even in our own lives, how many times has a commitment to Christ caused us more trials than we would undergo otherwise?

But doesn't this show us that in our lives, giving ourselves over to Jesus does not mean some superficial happiness, but a deepening of our spiritual lives? Does not such a commitment demand stripping off all that is false and shallow so that we can be more authentic?

And what we find is something new, something hidden, something we would not have seen had we not made this step. This is how we go beyond fear...we leave off the empty show and stand tall in our own truth. We strip off the false, and stand naked just as we are. And it is love that gives us the courage to do this fearful thing.

Carlos Ezpiroz Costa writes in contemplation we see in light what others can not see. Jesus brings always-Light. Our first real glimpse of ourselves is quite frightening-and we will suffer shock until we come to accept our own reality. This is why it is important to remember that God has already loved us, in full knowledge of our true selves, long before we know it ourselves.

Olivier Clement writes Then we discover the basic truth about ourselves, that we are loved, and it is because we are loved that we exist. Love casts out fear. It gives us strength. It makes us courageous. It opens the door into a new life.

One day is better than a thousand...

I love this verse, God, our protector, keep us in mind; always give strength to your people. For if we can be with you even one day, it is better than a thousand without you. These words come from psalm 83, verse 10-11. The implications of this prayer are powerful. They encourage us to go further.

We tend to see God as beyond us, somewhere out there, a deity to be adored. But this psalm invites us to see Divinity as close to us, and someone we can and should develop an intimate relationship with, someone so loveable that one day alone is worth a thousand others.

Perhaps this is also a message to our hearts...that one intense experience of God can help us endure those dry and dark times when he seems far away.

Another scripture verse I dearly love comes from Jeremiah. I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for woe! Plans to give you a future full of hope.

Such words can give heart to our journey, knowing that God is near, that one's experience of God can be very powerful should help us realize that the Divine Being has plans for us, full of hope.

Seeking the places of the heart

Olivier Clement writes that we must seek the place of the heart. He believes that we live too much in our head and in our entrails, and have forgotten the riches hidden in the vast recesses of the heart.

But when we have not lived this way, deep within our own soul, it is not easy to remove our actions from "sense" and replace them with "inspiration". It requires learning a whole new way of thinking and sensing and viewing.

One view that is necessary for this journey is understanding the purpose for becoming spiritual. As Paul Claudel writes [Christ] did not come to give us a life that would serve only to enable us to die. He did not come on earth to prevent hunger and thirst...He came with his great leaven so that no stone might be incapable of becoming wheat or loaf.

Think of the story in scripture, where Satan used stones to tempt Jesus in the desert. Satan placed them before Jesus with an invitation that he change them into loaves of bread. Jesus refused, but why? Because these stones symbolize our hearts. Jesus refused because he did not come so that we might feed him. He came in order to feed us. Even though those stones were meant for transformation, it would not come at his command. It comes only through our own. He waits on us to initiate the transformation . He will feed us, but not by force.

When I allow Jesus to feed me, an amazing results occurs. I become like that which feeds me. I begin to live on a different plane, be more mindful of God, more open to grace, and better aware of my spiritual values. It's a wonderful assimilation, one powerful and life-changing.

To be a stone is to be a hard thing. But if stones can be called forth into bread, then no human heart is beyond the spiritual grasp of unitive prayer with God. I need only go into the recesses of my soul and seek the Divine within.

Change and the Unchangeable

There are times in our lives when we say "yes" in a serious way, for a commitment, a cause, or a belief. In time, things change, and it may seem that the "yes" we said in all sincerity has faded. But has it?

I maintain that if our "yes" is to a person, then indeed it will fade. Times change, situations change, and the person we said "yes" to changes as well, to the point of no longer being there. That is because we cannot make promises to individuals alone. All commitments must be made to something higher, to Someone Divine. Then, our "yes" endures, even when it means leaving a situation, or moving on to something or someone else. The moving on isn't a lessening of the promise, but rather, it is actually making the commitment more firm, solid, and lasting. Because sometimes, to be true to your "yes", you must change.

Only God is unchangeable. All else does change. The "yes" of today to a human, when that human or institute or structure changes, may not be possible in the future. And ultimately, our promises are first of all to God.

I am wonderfully made

One can find spiritual writers who portray the spiritual way of life in negative terms. These authors quote from scripture where it says the way is narrow, few are those who find it; many are called, few are chosen, etc. Such scripture quotes make it seem that only an elite few are destined. It also gives us the impression that unless we are in some way miserable, unless life is hard and we are suffering, we aren’t true followers of “the Way”.

Yet, there are those who say differently. Catherine of Siena says that “the way to heaven is broad,” and  “all the way to heaven is heaven.” I’ve always been impressed by these words of Catherine and their seeming contradiction with St Matthew’s gospel.

That questions the meaning of the narrow way promoted by Matthew. Is it a scare tactic to make us believe heaven is only for a few? I do not think so. I’ve come to believe that the narrow way spoken of in the gospel refers to the way destined for each individual. We are not called as a group, but individually. And the way I must follow is uniquely one God destines for me, one no one else has traveled before.

Following my destiny requires learning discernment, overcoming fear, and a willingness to live with a certain amount of isolation. It means taking chances, having courage to be responsible for my choices, having the ability to say I’m wrong, turn around, and try again. To follow the “narrow way” is to follow that path set out for me alone, the one God intended that my feet, and only my feet. It requires blazing my trail through areas no one else has gone before. It requires letting God be my beacon, over everyone else.

God does not give me a generalized master plan. Each one of us is uniquely, wonderfully made (Ps. 139:14). Let me look at the narrow road as the one given specifically to me. And let me remember always Catherine’s words, all the way to heaven is heaven!

Spiritual Encounter

Ever consider that the empty feeling deep within yourself can be turned into a spiritual encounter? That is what George Maloney says, insisting that such emptiness is necessary if we want to experience God face to face. To quote: But he [God] can only be met in the desert of your own being, in the depths where you encounter the dread of loss. So few of us have the courage or the discipline to cut ourselves off from all the attachments by which we define ourselves, to go out into the desert and be at the mercy of the unknown. (Journey Into Mystical Prayer, 8)

According to Maloney, the journey "within" begins with surrender. It's a concept not often talked about. We tend to think of even the spiritual life in terms of what we might gain. But it is good to remember that there is also a need to let go of anything that impedes our awareness of God. It is a reminder that not having is not necessarily a disadvantage, and that a feeling of helplessness can hold riches for our spiritual life.

Maloney is telling us that we will find many things in our lives that simply don't make sense. Instead of letting such things become road blocks in our spiritual descent, we can surrender to the fact that we cannot understand them, and so continue forward. I like his term mercy of the unknown. It begs for a spirit of trust. It begs for us to believe in a Being bigger and more capable than myself. And most of all, it challenges us to surrender.

Destination. We like to know, and even in our spiritual life we like to be able to see the goal here and now. But there are times when we have to be content to journey along without having a clear picture of destination.

If you have ever been in darkness on this matter, you will recognize the dilemma. It can be a change of careers, a move, a turning point in life. You pray and ask for guidance, and wait for some clear signal of where you should go. But you find darkness instead, and you sit and wonder, am I doing what is right? Am I going in the direction I need to go? And you pray, “What do you want from me, Lord?”

Such times call for a deepening of faith. It is like the disciples on the boat with Jesus. One would think that if Jesus is there, all should be fine. But this night, a storm breaks loose on the sea, and the disciples are in fear of being capsized, of drowning, of losing their life. And Jesus sleeps on, seemingly unaware of their dilemma. When the disciples wake him, he isn’t so much concerned with the storm as he is disappointed that they are terrified. “Why did you fear, oh you of little faith?”

Those words are a reminder to us that knowing the destination is not the all important thing. What is important is keeping faith, continuing on even when we are not sure. For Jesus is never far, and knowing is not as important as loving. Jesus asks us to believe, even when things are dark, even when we can’t see, even when he seems asleep.

Expect more

Our great expectations can make us beacons of light

We've all heard it said, that we've come to expect too much and so set ourselves up for disappointment. Usually this is said about our modern conveniences and a society that expects instant results.

But I think the problem is rather, we don't expect enough. I think we place our expectations in the wrong field. I think we look for fulfillment in social achievements when we should look instead for personal goals. That's what I think.

Your typical person today doesn't expect much of him or herself when it comes to faith. For some reason, our faith has become very passive. We are not required to face the lions, or hid for fear of our lives, or even stand on the street corner and argue for what we believe.

Yet, faith isn't just what we believe; it is how we live out that belief, making it the door that opens up a different level of life. When our expectations are high regarding faith and all we can accomplish with it, we become boulders of strength and lights upon mountain tops.

History tells us of individuals whose living faith made them stand out through the vision they encompassed, a vision often ahead of their times. Sometimes the very people they represented misunderstood them. But that didn't deter them. Because they expected more--more of themselves and more of their fellows.

We need more visionaries today. We need more people willing to open the door into a higher level of life. We need greater expectations of what our faith can do for us.