For anyone seriously seeking a mystical life, the ultimate preparation is purity of heart, according to all the desert Ammas and Abbas. Writing on this, George Maloney says:
Did not Jesus promise that the pure of heart would be blessed and would see God (Mt 5:8)? Christians, whether in ancient times or in the 21st century, on Mount Athos or in the Bronx, have purified their hearts and have entered into a contemplation of realities unknown and unseen by others who may not pray as deeply. God wishes to communicate himself to all human beings more directly and immediately so that they experience the Trinity's indwelling, not through concepts, but by a direct "seeing" of God's presence through deeper faith. (Discovering the Hidden Reality: A Journey Into Christian Mystical Prayer, 4)
The purity of heart necessary for this journey comes, not so much through avoidance of sins as through a dedication to the truth. To become pure of heart means we must return to that nakedness found in the Garden of Eden story of Genesis. We must walk and talk to God without pretense or falsity. We must be earnest in our seeking, so earnest that when obstacles arise before us, we ardently seek their resolution, not their destruction or avoidance.
Such purity of heart comes through faithfulness in the journey. It comes from the vision becoming ever more clear, so that we become more sensitive to things of God, or more accurately, to the God dwelling within. In a sense, our journey requires that we peal away the layers that blind our eyes of faith, until we are continually aware of the presence of God. This isn't as extraordinary as it may sound, because it happens gradually to the heart of one sincerely seeking. And as a seeker, the more you seek, the more "normal" it becomes to be aware, until you yourself are dwelling with that presence continually.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
To Be Set Free
In Jn 8:31-32, we read Jesus words If you remain in my word, you will be my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
The truth of these words come with living them out. For the truth to set us free, we must seek it with an altruistic heart and with courage. For sometimes the truth about us, or a situation, reveals hardships or weaknesses we would rather not have learned. Sometimes learning a truth is like opening a Pandora's box, leading us onto a journey that is more painful than the one we enjoyed in ignorance.
And still, the truth does set us free. We must be willing to bear its burden. Unlike a Hollywood version, seeking the truth does not always result in some glorious Epiphany. Sometimes the truth is accepting the hard facts about ourselves or our lives. But the end result is always the same: it will set you free.
The truth of these words come with living them out. For the truth to set us free, we must seek it with an altruistic heart and with courage. For sometimes the truth about us, or a situation, reveals hardships or weaknesses we would rather not have learned. Sometimes learning a truth is like opening a Pandora's box, leading us onto a journey that is more painful than the one we enjoyed in ignorance.
And still, the truth does set us free. We must be willing to bear its burden. Unlike a Hollywood version, seeking the truth does not always result in some glorious Epiphany. Sometimes the truth is accepting the hard facts about ourselves or our lives. But the end result is always the same: it will set you free.
Friday, September 17, 2010
What is Involved in Saying Yes
Recently a discussion came up about the "yes" of a commitment. The person who mentioned this said that often, when a commitment is first made, the "yes" is strong. But it becomes weaker with time, and after some years, the yes may become feeble and fade away.
I replied that perhaps that comes when the "yes" is directed to some finite thing, some person or institute. When the "yes" is said to a person, say in marriage, or even to the church in vows, as time goes on, that person or institute change. And of course, the "yes" may fade away, because the "yes" was intended for one thing, and something else has taken its place. That's why a spouse in an abusive relationship finds it hard to leave that relationship. She or he had made a promise, and to leave would break that promise.
But all promises should be directed to God, so that the "yes" is promise to live according to his inspirations and directions. Such a "yes" allows one to move on when necessary, because the person has not promised to live forever bound to another person or institute, but to follow the Gospel and the inspirations of the Spirit. The moving on isn't a lessening of the "yes" - it is actually the "yes" becoming stronger and more firm.
If such were the subject of our promises, we would feel the freedom Augustine speaks of, freedom in the liberty of Divine Grace. And our journey would flow more from divine inspiration than from social constructs. And when something falls out in our life, instead of looking at it as some kind of moral failure, we would instead spend our energies trying to discern what God is saying to us in this instance.
Such an attitude makes all the difference in a life lived for God.
I replied that perhaps that comes when the "yes" is directed to some finite thing, some person or institute. When the "yes" is said to a person, say in marriage, or even to the church in vows, as time goes on, that person or institute change. And of course, the "yes" may fade away, because the "yes" was intended for one thing, and something else has taken its place. That's why a spouse in an abusive relationship finds it hard to leave that relationship. She or he had made a promise, and to leave would break that promise.
But all promises should be directed to God, so that the "yes" is promise to live according to his inspirations and directions. Such a "yes" allows one to move on when necessary, because the person has not promised to live forever bound to another person or institute, but to follow the Gospel and the inspirations of the Spirit. The moving on isn't a lessening of the "yes" - it is actually the "yes" becoming stronger and more firm.
If such were the subject of our promises, we would feel the freedom Augustine speaks of, freedom in the liberty of Divine Grace. And our journey would flow more from divine inspiration than from social constructs. And when something falls out in our life, instead of looking at it as some kind of moral failure, we would instead spend our energies trying to discern what God is saying to us in this instance.
Such an attitude makes all the difference in a life lived for God.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Stabat Mater
There are some times when it is better to "feel" than to think. On a day commemorating the sorrows of Mary, this seemed an appropiate occasion. I hope you find the music inspiring and moving.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Transformed Through the Cross
The Cross. As essential as this symbol is to Christianity, the views, opinions and spirituality of the cross are varied and sometimes contradictory. So I feel right at home giving my own views on the cross and its relation to suffering, trials, hardships, etc.
In early Christian spirituality, the cross became a symbol encouraging early martyrs to endure suffering. If Jesus did so much, what should we not do? Perhaps because of that, the cross, especially the phrase from scripture, "Unless you take up your cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple" became the goal of many Christians.
True to my contrariness, I think such statements cannot be interpreted so simply. I agree with Frederick Faber, who once wrote that our concepts of the cross and suffering are all upside down. We think, well, Jesus carried his cross, so I must do the same. As though Jesus brought this hard way of life to us, and to follow him, we must choose it too. But Jesus didn't bring suffering to our lives...it was already there, through the free will of others. And no matter how good you are, you will be affected by bad choices others make.
So, my interpretation is this: Jesus is telling us, suffering isn't the end, something to make us bitter, or sad, or rejected. It isn't even something he wants us to have to go through. But because it will come in our lives, he is showing us it can be turned into something good. How that happens depends on us.
Someone I know recently learned he had cancer. The treatments he underwent were brutal, exhausting, and made him even want to just die to end it all. But being a true Christian, he knew something good could come from it. He says he learned to surrender to what was beyond his control, the suffering from his treatments. And as he continually surrendered, he began to realize the power that was his: take this pain and reap good from it. He said when he did this, he realized that very little has happened in his life for which he was not later grateful when seeing it in a different light.
So it is how we gaze upon what happens to us that makes the difference. Burden remains burden only while we continue to struggle under its weight. With time, thought, reflection, prayer, questioning, struggling, which are all part of the process, we can keep moving, beyond pain into realization. Then, we can glory in the cross, as St. Paul says. And when we can do that, then are we transformed.
In early Christian spirituality, the cross became a symbol encouraging early martyrs to endure suffering. If Jesus did so much, what should we not do? Perhaps because of that, the cross, especially the phrase from scripture, "Unless you take up your cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple" became the goal of many Christians.
True to my contrariness, I think such statements cannot be interpreted so simply. I agree with Frederick Faber, who once wrote that our concepts of the cross and suffering are all upside down. We think, well, Jesus carried his cross, so I must do the same. As though Jesus brought this hard way of life to us, and to follow him, we must choose it too. But Jesus didn't bring suffering to our lives...it was already there, through the free will of others. And no matter how good you are, you will be affected by bad choices others make.
So, my interpretation is this: Jesus is telling us, suffering isn't the end, something to make us bitter, or sad, or rejected. It isn't even something he wants us to have to go through. But because it will come in our lives, he is showing us it can be turned into something good. How that happens depends on us.
Someone I know recently learned he had cancer. The treatments he underwent were brutal, exhausting, and made him even want to just die to end it all. But being a true Christian, he knew something good could come from it. He says he learned to surrender to what was beyond his control, the suffering from his treatments. And as he continually surrendered, he began to realize the power that was his: take this pain and reap good from it. He said when he did this, he realized that very little has happened in his life for which he was not later grateful when seeing it in a different light.
So it is how we gaze upon what happens to us that makes the difference. Burden remains burden only while we continue to struggle under its weight. With time, thought, reflection, prayer, questioning, struggling, which are all part of the process, we can keep moving, beyond pain into realization. Then, we can glory in the cross, as St. Paul says. And when we can do that, then are we transformed.
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Journey Within
In the Confessions of Augustine we read: Too late have I loved you, oh beauty ever ancient, ever new! Too late I have loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.
Most of our search for happiness happens outside, in the realm of the tangible, the tactile, the possessable. And still, to be most productive, even in a material way, we must come to terms with our inner self. It is an accepted fact even in the corporate world, that to be at your best, you must first attain peace within.
Our turning inward also has its dangers: narcissism and self-absorption always lurk along our desire for peace. For peace cannot be sought out for itself alone. And yet, there it too much truth in Augustine's powerful words to consider the search inward totally vain and futile. There is an inward path that leads to God, the God within our soul, the God whose image we are made. It is our life's work to avoid the dangers accompanying that search, through discerning that path, of repeatedly seeking it, of openness to the wrong so that we can turn yet again to that which gives us light and life.
Finding God requires an inward, serious, deliberate search within the soul. To concentrate on externals, to seek our fulfillment in the tangible is to miss another whole side of life, that of the spiritual. And wouldn't it be sad if we too had to say, "Too late have I loved you...."
Most of our search for happiness happens outside, in the realm of the tangible, the tactile, the possessable. And still, to be most productive, even in a material way, we must come to terms with our inner self. It is an accepted fact even in the corporate world, that to be at your best, you must first attain peace within.
Our turning inward also has its dangers: narcissism and self-absorption always lurk along our desire for peace. For peace cannot be sought out for itself alone. And yet, there it too much truth in Augustine's powerful words to consider the search inward totally vain and futile. There is an inward path that leads to God, the God within our soul, the God whose image we are made. It is our life's work to avoid the dangers accompanying that search, through discerning that path, of repeatedly seeking it, of openness to the wrong so that we can turn yet again to that which gives us light and life.
Finding God requires an inward, serious, deliberate search within the soul. To concentrate on externals, to seek our fulfillment in the tangible is to miss another whole side of life, that of the spiritual. And wouldn't it be sad if we too had to say, "Too late have I loved you...."
Sunday, September 12, 2010
A Familiar Gospel in a Different Light
The Prodigal Son. Sometimes when I hear familiar passages from the Gospels, I think we've got it all wrong. We think, yea, that's pretty straightforward. Squander your livelihood, and you'll end up crawling back begging for forgiveness.
Yet, today listening to the Gospel being read, it suddenly occurred to me just how similar we all are to the prodigal. Not in the way we usually think: sinner who squanders=need for crawling. But in God giving us an inheritance and setting us free to follow the desires of our hearts. Who of us gets it right the first time? If the prodigal had not gone away and seen life from a different perspective, he would never have come to really know his father. Knowing that father took simply an acknowledgement that he'd made a mistake. According to the story, the Father didn't love him less for that.
I sometimes think our tidied up religion keeps us from seeing the reality of life. We cannot live within a structure that keeps us from all harm. That isn't living; that is slavery. To venture forth means to deal with life as it really is, without pretense or false virtue. We will be robbed, we will be a victim at some point, and also we will betray our own best selves. But that is not the end of story (like time now to crawl back and beg). That is just part of the journey.
I know only too many who, for fear of making a mistake, continue in a false life, where expectations can be met, and no surprise will throw them off guard. Yet, they are the most unhappy people I know.
The prodigal took a chance. And in the end, he grew. What are we willing to chance for spiritual growth?
Yet, today listening to the Gospel being read, it suddenly occurred to me just how similar we all are to the prodigal. Not in the way we usually think: sinner who squanders=need for crawling. But in God giving us an inheritance and setting us free to follow the desires of our hearts. Who of us gets it right the first time? If the prodigal had not gone away and seen life from a different perspective, he would never have come to really know his father. Knowing that father took simply an acknowledgement that he'd made a mistake. According to the story, the Father didn't love him less for that.
I sometimes think our tidied up religion keeps us from seeing the reality of life. We cannot live within a structure that keeps us from all harm. That isn't living; that is slavery. To venture forth means to deal with life as it really is, without pretense or false virtue. We will be robbed, we will be a victim at some point, and also we will betray our own best selves. But that is not the end of story (like time now to crawl back and beg). That is just part of the journey.
I know only too many who, for fear of making a mistake, continue in a false life, where expectations can be met, and no surprise will throw them off guard. Yet, they are the most unhappy people I know.
The prodigal took a chance. And in the end, he grew. What are we willing to chance for spiritual growth?
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