The question of unanswered prayer

Who of us have not experienced unanswered prayer? And who of us have not wondered, why?

John Chrysostom says If God puts off answering us, it is solely to keep us near him for a longer time…

I beg to differ. God is not a petulant child who needs attention so badly that he would willingly inflict pain upon us. No, I do not agree with this explanation at all. I believe it is rather that we grow into our spiritual maturity, and God assists us not by denying our petitions, but by enlightening us to truth.

If all of our prayers went answered, well, our lives would be pretty rosy, wouldn’t they? Think of the things we’ve prayed for: removal of pain from our lives; health for all our loved ones; no loss or injury, knowledge to always know the right thing to do. In a way, we are asking to be removed from life itself, and live in an unreal world of euphoria. God would be cruel to grant us such requests, as it would mean removing us from reality.

Instead, we are asked to witness our faith in the real world that we sometimes do not like. In this, God is standing by us as we experience pain, loss, anguish, and confusion. He isn’t giving them to us; life happens, and he wants us to know loving him doesn’t remove us from such things; it strengthens us to deal with them in faith and trust.

It is through this reality that we become, in effect, living prophets. We demonstrate how faith and trust in God does not negate life, but fulfills it. We become more alive and aware of our challenges, not protected from them. We bear witness that loving God gives us strength, not illusions.

And so, do not think that any prayer has gone unanswered. Rather, think of all the ways God answered prayer, and we did not realize it.

The treasure hidden within

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross writes Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose.

Everything that happens to us in life has a purpose. Our job is to find the meaning hidden beneath the event. That’s where silence becomes such a benefit. It allows us the space and place to discover. Silence is like drops of quiet rain, giving life to the ground by breaking the shell of seeds and allowing them to bring forth that which is contained in the seed. Rain doesn’t add anything to a seed; it simply softens the hard covering so that what is inside that seed can come out. No seed will sprout without water.

Silence is like that. Often, darkness teaches us that kind of silence. Darkness can take away all thought, and leave us with feelings of emptiness. And if we sit before God with that emptiness, we find that in the darkness we are learning to discern God. And sitting in that darkness, waiting on God, we learn to listen in a different way. It’s as though the water of silence breaks the hard shell around our heart, and the life that we have within sprouts and begins to flourish. And what we truly are begins to blossom and mature. 

If you would give yourself a treat, take ten minutes a day to just “be”. Do not try to block thoughts; simply sit with your mind and try to unwind, directing your attention to the presence within you, the Divine presence.  You do not need words, only attention. If you do this long enough, you will find that treasure, because that treasure is within.

To thirst or not to thirst

According to what I am told, I am the son of man and woman; This astonishes me...I thought I was more (Lautréamont).

We all want more than mere birthright. We all long for something we think of as more. But as much as we long, so true too is the fact that this longing is unsettling, disturbing, and troubling. Often we don't know how to fill the void inside, or simple, that void, that unsettling feeling, that thirst hurts too much.

Bernard Bro says, as much as we long, we also fear. This is the tragic aspect of the grandeur of the mind. Each of us succeeds perfectly, if she so wishes, in suffocating the questions that disturb her, in anesthetizing them...we have a thirst for happiness, but we are afraid of being thirsty.

It is true; much of our frantic activities in life attempt to suffocate our thirst. Jesus would have us thirst for more. It is in pondering the questions that disturb that we find treasures hidden from our first glance.

Do not be afriad of your thirst. Instead, let it lead you to more.

In the Cloud of Unknowing

When you think of enlightenment, you often think of knowing, of certainty, of seeing. I came into the world as light, so that everyone who believes in me might not remain in darkness (Jn 12:45).

Jesus speaks of being light many times throughout the gospel. We think of light as knowing, for light reveals. But there is a certain amount of unknowing as well. Light can mean fire, and that does not necessarily mean knowing, but desire.

Rabbi Rami Shapiro writes belief is about knowing; faith is about not knowing. Belief is about content...faith is an attitude toward reality. I kinda like his thought. He goes on to say that faith is expressed in worship, and true worship strips you of your belief and wraps you in a cloud of unknowing.

According to Shapiro, faith is trusting in what is unfolding without knowing just what that is. That certainly takes desire.

I'm attracted to Shapiro's description of faith because of a book written in medieval times by a monk, a book well known among medieval scholars and mystics called The Cloud of Unknowing. It is a book describing the mystical experience to the ordinary reader, and was well read especially during its time. It describes mysticism as an exercise of the spirit, not of the intellect. And so, Shapiro's description of faith fits well with the author of this book's description of mysticism.

Would you be enlightened? Maybe you already are, but have confused enlightenment with knowledge. Maybe you are trusting in what is unfolding in your life, living in the cloud of unknowing.

Accepting what the journey brings

Seeing and not seeing. It's often a topic on Monastic Ponderings. We become conscious because we want to see. We practice compassion so that our hearts will respond better and know more. We meditate so that we are aware. It all implies a willingness to journey. But there is another aspect to our journey: a willingness to accept what that journey brings.

It happens that sometimes we fail to see, not because we are spiritually blind, but because we don't like what we see. The product is not what we expected, we'd hoped for more, or less, or better. We find ourselves in disbelief that after all we've done, this is the result? And so our journey has brought us to a point we do not want to be, with a decision we do not want to make, and a revelation we would rather not have. It is natural to resist.

It just goes to show that no one ever "arrives" at a place where struggle ceases, despite all the rhetoric to the contrary. The journey will always have its challenges, and we will always have choices. Paul complained about his own battles, about the struggle, and doing those things he did not want to do while not doing the things he planned. And the reply he received was "My grace is sufficient for you."

We are pilgrims in this life, and we should know that faith will carry us forward. For revelation can be having our expectations thwarted so that what we think is replaced by what really is. It's worth a thought. And isn't that what the journey is about anyway?

Hearing the Voice

Who of us can live without inspiration? Such insights guide and formulate our lives. Perhaps this is the true message behind the psalm 95:8: If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.

How do we discern the Voice of the Divine?  Its nudges are small, and sometimes drowned out by the many other voices that battle for our attention. How do we know that Voice from the voice of reason, of family, of society? Inspiration comes from inside of us, where our heart and our desires reside. The other voices come from outside us, and judge apart from inspiration, often in practical and worldly ways.

Olivier Clément writes in The Roots of Christian Mysticism that the purpose of ascesis…is to dissolve in the waters of baptism, in the water of tears, all the hardness of heart, so that it may become an antenna of infinite sensitivity, infinitely vulnerable to the beauty of the world and to the sufferings of human beings, and to God who is Love…(131).

This is how we discover inspiration, by journeying toward the Divine, where all hardness of heart becomes dissolved, and I learn sensitivity to the Voice.

Clément maintains that in our journey, by constantly seeking the Voice, we can reach a point where we are so immersed in God that we no longer have need to seek God, so to speak, because God is there. And we know it. We have learned, through discernment, the Voice and we remain aware of Presence. 

If today you hear his Voice, harden not your heart. You will find a wondrous inspiration.