|
|
|
Click here to access other articles from past issues of the SGM Journal/Newsletter: Archives. We place a nearly complete selection of key articles from each issue of Refresh on the website. The full Journal is available by mail. There is a suggested donation of $5 per issue (New Zealand subscribers) to help cover costs of publication and postage. Simply email our Administrator, Carole Hunt, with your name, postal address and email address and you will be added to our mailing list:
Spirituality is the buzz word that’s centre-stage in many parts of society today, business as well as church, sport as well as ecology and creation-centred activities, women’s movements and men’s movements, theology and philosophy. And that’s great! How could we have ignored it for so long? It is, however, a very recent term to describe what’s been part of how we are as humans and how creation is as well. Today it describes those attitudes, beliefs, practices which animate people’s lives and help them to reach out to other realities in life (Wakefield - Dictionary of Christian Spirituality. 361). It hasn’t always been used in this sense in English. For example, in the 15th and 16th centuries it denoted clergy as a distinctive group in society. Later it was used to speak of the spiritual as distinct from the material or bodily. In post reformation times it was covered by the words piety and living the Christian life. Spirituality, of course, is not confined to Christianity, and today there is a huge interest in a wide range of spiritualities both in the way they divide and damage our world but also in the way they can draw people together and enrich their lives. The definitions that follow indicate the extent of the shifts and changes in thinking about spirituality. From it’s position as an adjunct to faith it has now come centre stage so fully that for many people inside and outside the church it is the central focus of life. This shift is to be welcomed not least because it recognizes that amongst humanity there is something that is common ground, even common parlance. One of the challenges of spirituality today is the fuzziness of it, the ill-defined, the edgelessness, even the fringy-ness that leaves the impression that it is above definition or discussion. Moreover the growing interest in spirituality in Christian faith is not without this challenge. Indeed “it is difficult to give a precise definition for Christian Spirituality”, writes John Tyson. “The tremendous scope of concepts and experiences involved in the process of renewal and restoration makes precision difficult” (An Invitation to Christian Spirituality – an ecumenical anthology. 1999. 3). How then, in Aotearoa New Zealand, do we describe spirituality that is helpful and hopeful, nourishing and encouraging of life and growth as people of this land and as people of faith, rooted and grounded in the love of God in Jesus Christ, God with skin on? Perhaps for us all the challenge of embracing deeper riches of the spirit will invite a shift in thought patterns and structures that limit the possibilities of spiritual growth. I suspect that the presence of God’s Spirit to us and in us, and the equipment we need to hear and embrace this presence will shift our understanding of ways of knowing and seeing the spiritual realities of life. These things are “spiritually discerned” as St Paul puts it and can’t be known by reason alone. Further, one of my quiet hopes is that the lively interest in spirituality today will challenge strongly the rampant secularism promoted so religiously and aggressively in New Zealand today. This issue aims to help us all explore our own spirituality more deeply and to find our place more firmly and confidently in this land and in the faith strands we have inherited, and, for increasing numbers, in the new strands developing inside and outside the church. It also seeks to invite us to engage more with this world and the issues people face as we apply our spirituality to life today. We don’t presume to speak for Maori spirituality. Yet in exploring spirituality in Aotearoa we meet it at every turn. For those interested the best recent essay on indigenous spirituality I have read is by Henare Tate in the collection of essays He Kupu Whakawairua, Spirituality in Aotearoa New Zealand: Catholic Voices reviewed in this issue. We will be rubbing shoulders with Maori spirituality in the next few issues as we explore further spirituality in this corner of the south Pacific. Jo O’Hara’s new cover design is a delight and helps to focus us on our theme. We thank her for her artwork and all who have contributed to this issue.
Diarmuid O Murchu
Spirituality concerns an ancient and primal search for meaning that is as old as
humanity itself … Spirituality tends to be perceived as a sub-system or
offshoot of formal religion. In practice the reality is quite different …
Spirituality is, and always has been, more central to human experience than
religion. (Reclaiming Spirituality. Crossroad. 1999. vii) Nan Burgess
Today a
fresh, liberating breath of spirituality is touching many lives both within and
outside the church. This phenomenon expresses growing awareness of the
dimensions of spirituality in daily living, and, naturally, incorporated in such
awareness are varying interpretations. … The hope of increasing numbers of
people is expressed in the proposal of Rebecca Propst that “spirituality should
be taken out of the corners of our modern existence and become instead the
defining point of our existence”. (Looking Into The Depths –
Dimensions of Spirituality in New Zealand Short Story. Colcom Press 1996.
25-26) Anthony de Mello
The
spiritual quest is a journey without distance. You travel from where you are
right now to where you have always been. From ignorance to recognition, for all
you
do is
see for the first time what you have always been looking at. Whoever heard of a
path that brings you to yourself or a method that makes you what you have always
been. Spirituality, after all, is only a matter of becoming what you already
are. (Source unknown) Howard Rice
Spirituality is the pattern by which we shape our lives in response to our
experience of God as a very real presence in and around us. … Our
participation in the living Christ means that all human life takes on a sacred
quality. The unity of flesh and spirit in Christ is the basis for taking all
that is human with utmost reverence. (Reformed Spirituality. WJKP 1991.
45 & 163) Joan Chittister
Spirituality is not meant to be a panacea for human pain. Nor is it a substitute
for critical conscience. Spirituality energizes the soul to provide what the
world lacks. … Spirituality plunges us into life with an eye to meaning and
purpose. (Heart of Flesh – Eerdmans 1998. 1-2) Margaret Dunn Christian spirituality focuses us on relationship with Jesus Christ.
(Harvest
Field. 2002) John North
Any
definition of spirituality is not a definition but a signpost showing us the
directions to search! (Refresh Editorial Group meeting 5.11.03) Susanne Johnson Christian spiritual formation is a matter of becoming the song we sing, the Story we tell. (Christian Spiritual Formation … Abingdon. 1989)
A HEARTFELT RESPONSE TO LIVING IN THIS PLACE
by Ann Gilroy
When we
live in a world as beautiful and diverse as that of Aotearoa New Zealand, we
find its resonances, affects and challenges in the depths of our spirits. The
greenness and the diversity of the landforms; the immensity of the surrounding
seas and the contrasting waterscapes; the tangible, misty thermal air and the
feel of the prevailing winds; and the radiance, and even danger, of the sun, are
all particular to this place and to our experience of dwelling in this place.
We can discover in an increasing awareness of this place, the Spirit of God as
tangibly revealing and deeply mysterious. Yet we may find our response is at
once intuitively fitting and at the same time clumsily inadequate.
In this
article I want to suggest five aspects that may engage us more intensely in
relationship with the mystery of God in this place.1 Fundamentally
our response is to live into the meaning of the abundance, the variety, the
energy and the fullness of our surroundings. In living into this place our
beings become integrated with our surroundings and those who share it with us.
The following aspects of response engage with and are called forth by our
surroundings and the God of this place, - where and in whom we live and breathe
and have our being.
In the
face of abundance – of water, air, space, greenery, light, and landforms – we
respond with respect. In the presence of variety – of cloud formations, plants
and trees, hills and mountains, lakes and rivers, ice and thermal waters – we
respond with inclusion. In the power of energy – hydro lakes, landslides,
earthquakes, winds, solar radiation, sea waves – we respond with participation.
In the experience of fullness – rivers, forests, bays, harvests, rain, snow and
ice - we respond with fairness. In the presence of beauty, - of colour, form,
variety and depth - we respond with integrity.
Our
response of respect towards our place as a home acknowledges our relationship
and interrelationship with the abundance of life we have around us. We
recognise Divine generosity at the heart of our place and we seek to practise
ways of living this generosity ourselves. While we cultivate respect as an
attitude flowing from God’s abundance, we endeavour to avoid the kinds of
attitudes or behaviour that deadens respect or substitutes it for good manners.
We will endeavour to prevent greediness from creeping into our lives, or
miserliness with resources, or jadedness in coping with issues, or the
privatization of our interests so that we relate to only particular groups. Our
challenge is to shift our boundaries more and more outwards to embrace and
practise abundant respect.
Our
response of inclusion is to have a consistent attitude of hospitality towards
others, and particularly at this time in New Zealand, to new immigrants to this
land. We recognise in this place the God who makes room lovingly for a seeming
limitless variety of life and we too seek to interpret this hospitality in our
own response. So in our practising we look for opportunities to host, and we
avoid elitism, or narrow mindedness, or racism and other –isms, as well as
passivity in the face of inhospitality. Our challenge is to widen increasingly
our vision of inclusivity.
Our
response of participation means we become involved in what helps to increase
community relationships in this land. We recognise God at home in this place
and we seek to respond with an attitude which promotes and enhances community
well-being. Correspondingly we endeavour to avoid behaviours and attitudes
which militate against participation, such as ‘not wanting to get involved’, or
an isolating privacy, or ‘taking on every cause’ without prudence, or wanting
always to be the boss, or of being unwilling to share. Our challenge is to
practise collaborative participation so that the heart of the community grows. Our response of fairness involves us in acting justly towards this place and the life at home here. Our response of fairness seeks to establish what is right and also what is the right way of proceeding, so that community relationships are enhanced. We recognise that Divine Providence is for all and we seek to respond to providence in fairness. Consequently we will try to avoid attitudes that fudge or dissipate fairness. Among these are being unable ‘to make up your mind’ about what is right, or always knowing what is right for others, or not recognizing our own prejudices, or having a judgemental attitude towards others. In practising fairness we endeavour to increase our own self–knowledge and capacity for discernment.
Our
response of integrity involves us in seeking to live consistently by our
principles and in doing so to grow increasingly integrated in this place. We
recognise the Divine Spirit animating and integrating life in rhythmic cycles
and arrhythmic happenings – the seasons, the lunar waxing and waning, the
predictably unpredictable weather patterns, and the upheavals of shifting
tectonic plates. We seek such integrity amidst the hope and uncertainties of our
lives. In practising integrity we move away from attitudes or behaviours that
would fragment our hope. We would avoid over commitment and over work, or being
unable to say ‘no’, or compartmentalizing our lives, or avoidance and escapist
behaviours, or refusal to admit our mistakes. In the practice of integrity we
recognise that the pain and suffering of life has coherence and meaning within
the fullness of life. Integrity will integrate us into the Spirit of Life
revealed in this place around us. For further reading: Bergin, Helen, and Susan Smith, eds. Spirituality in Aotearoa New Zealand: Catholic Voices. Auckland: Accent Publications, 2002. Darragh, Neil. At Home in the Earth: Seeking an Earth-Centred Spirituality. Auckland: Accent Publications, 2000. “ A Pakeha Christian Spirituality.” In Counselling Issues, edited by Philip Culbertson, 303-31. Auckland: Accent Publications, 1997.
1 See also, Neil Darragh, “ A Pakeha Christian Spirituality,” in Counselling Issues, ed. Philip Culbertson (Auckland: Accent Publications, 1997). Neil Darragh, At Home in the Earth: Seeking an Earth-Centred Spirituality (Auckland: Accent Publications, 2000). Helen Bergin and Susan Smith, eds., Spirituality in Aotearoa New Zealand: Catholic Voices (Auckland: Accent Publications, 2002).
by John Bluck
I’m a
reluctant starter in the search for a Kiwi spirituality. I got into it by
accident because I was bored with traditional models of spiritual formation.
Bored or burnt out? I’m not sure which. I began my life as an ordinand or
seminarian at 18 and would fall asleep at early morning chapel services, in the
midst of receiving profound spiritual advice. My contemporaries who stayed awake
went on to live holy lives while I wandered off into various spiritual
wildernesses, rescued by inspiration from ecumenism, social action, human
encounter movements and other brands of religious intensity. I never quite made
the cut for the charismatic movement, though I tried hard and remain vaguely
disappointed that I didn’t taste the undoubtedly exciting fruits of that tree
that flowered so brightly in the seventies, and we’ve been singing about, a
little wistfully, ever since. It was much later, after wandering around the world and back, that I ran into a school of spirituality that I’d been living inside all my life without realising. Call it Kiwi spirituality, or Pakeha, or Tau Iwi if you must, or indigenous. Certainly call it incarnational, and nothing less than ecumenical. Whatever else it is, it’s home grown, it belongs to nowhere else but in the ground beneath our feet and it’s all right here.
We began talking about this spirituality in the earliest years of Pakeha settlement and it’s grown through several self conscious forms, from a highly romanticised Victorian version in oil paintings full of brooding mountains that Wordsworth could have scribbled off an ode to with ease, through to idealised noble savages, the “tui” and “bellbird” school of poetry, the rugged bush felling, camp oven cooking pioneers who were good, keen and lonely, through to the stirrings of a national identity, monocultural with Maori decoration, then forged in war, depression, economic crisis, and finally coming of age, though still adolescent.
This spirituality can be traced through our literature and art and even our cinema, but you’re hard pressed to find it in the theology of our churches, which remained colonial and import dependent for well into the 1960’s, long after the rest of the society gave away import licencing and controls. And if you listen to the choruses we sing still and the adulation we heap on visiting American preachers and authors, you might well wonder if there’s still some way to go in trusting our own spiritual voices.
I started coming to terms with Kiwi spirituality when I settled again in New Zealand in the early 80’s at a time when Maori sovereignty and identity was being clearly staked out in the public domain, as a mainstream issue that couldn’t be sidelined any longer. The signs were everywhere around me: Bastion Point, the land marches, the momentum gathering around the Waitangi Tribunal, and in the Anglican Church, the preparations for a Tikanga based church and a prayer book that addressed a God who awaited me here rather than somewhere else. Couple all that with the challenge that came from the Christian feminist movement (women I knew ten years before as easy going colleagues were now monitoring my pronouns and holding me personally responsible for the sins of patriarchy), and I found myself a stranger in a familiar land. There was nothing else to do but set about trying to give an account of the hope that was in me, in a whole new way.
Back then, we started talking about Kiwi spirituality in bold generalisations. The sheer novelty of talking about it at all allowed us that luxury. “Struggle and hope” described it well and a little collection of essays called “Long, white and cloudy” confessed to the open ended and often fuzzy way we talked.
I wouldn’t use that title now. It’s long, white and a little clearer now, and the lines around spiritual identity and belonging are much sharper.
We’ve pushed the debate about separate, distinct and definable identities to their limit and the postmodern worldview that says such contrasts are artificial and overplayed is catching up with us. Hybrid identities are overtaking old separations. Younger Maori see no contradiction in claiming the Pakeha part of their whakapapa even as they support an iwi claim under the Treaty. Androgynous images muddle gender separations in popular music and art. The freedom that Generation X enjoys in holding multiple and changing loyalties to brand names and institutions all conspires to make our statements of faith and our places of belonging harder than ever to pin down. World views, credal statements, canon laws and authority figures that define the big picture become obsolete the minute they pretend to have the last word. The only person to dares to claim that is Pam Corkery.
Any sort of exclusive claim on truth of any sort is written off by the postmodern way of seeing the world. Any lingering hope that the church, or any faith tradition for that matter, might have a corner on the spirituality market is surely dismissed by the sight of multi national corporations selling their products as spiritual assets, be that an airline ticket, a bottle of Steinlager or drive in a new Nissan.
In that setting, national let alone indigenous ownership of anything is constantly undermined by a global culture that homogenises everything into a mongrel mix, available to anyone who can pay the price. Consumerism has no scruples and respects no boundaries.
And yet, amazingly enough, despite all those hybridising, homogenising forces at work, we see proudly owned, passionately expressed beliefs and identities commanding attention and respect. Consider the success of moves like “Whale Rider’, poetry like Glen Colquhoun’s “Playing God” collection, the transformative power of Kura Kaupapa schools, and even the pride most cynical and worldly wise New Zealanders feel when they see underdogs like the Silver Ferns or the Tall Blacks triumph against the odds. These are very local, very particular, very focussed expressions of energy, skill and belief. Yet they speak universally while they last and even after they have been superseded and changed into something quite different, their legacy lives on.
A clearly lived out, well owned and proudly held spirituality for Aotearoa can have that sort of transformative power, regardless of whether it’s experienced by people who stand inside or outside the familiar circle of religion, even when they are unable to find any traction from the traditional language and disciplines of church. But for that to happen, we need, I believe, to shift gear in the way we express that spirituality, namely from the general to the particular, the conceptual to the concrete and from fixed categories to fluid processes, the tightly defined to the openly dynamic, from hoping to find the big picture out there somewhere to trusting that there is truth enough and more to be going on with in the bits and pieces right here in front of us.
My claim then is that when it comes to a spirituality for Aotearoa that embraces our struggles and hopes, God is to be found in the detail, in the fine print of this gospel–culture contract that we inherit and constantly need to rewrite. And we look to the detail not in order to check up on whether some universal laws of theological grammar are being followed, but rather because God is in that detail in every fragment of it, in every dot on every “ i “ and every cross bar on every “ t “. We’re accustomed to looking through telescopes to find evidence of the divine spirit in the universe. Let’s spend some time looking through the microscope as well, to find that same spirit in the smallest detail of the most local, the most ordinary, the closest to home. To do that, you have to trust the ground on which you stand to be worth the effort of such close scrutiny.
And equally if not more importantly, let’s expect to find God in the way those details connect. For it’s in those interconnections that we find new reasons for getting excited about the God in whom we live and move and have our being in Aotearoa.
This is the introduction of John Bluck’s paper to the Association of Christian Spiritual Director’s conference in August this year. Copies of the full text are available from Bishop’s Secretary, Box 227, Napier. Enclose $2.00 for photocopying and postage.
by Andrew Pritchard
As we
christians in Aotearoa New Zealand grow more fully into a spirituality that is
both christian and shaped by the contexts, cultures and land in which we live it
seems to me that a mark of health will be inclusivity rather than exclusivity,
celebration of diversity not insistence on uniformity, both/and rather than
either/or. Here then are some contours that mark such a spirituality. BOTH Bush/Beach AND Bible
We are
right to appreciate and celebrate the beauty and wonder of the land in which we
are privileged to live; to notice how our lives, spiritual as well as physical,
are shaped by bush, sea, mountain and river; to note that Christmas is
pohutukawa’s in blossom, BBQ’s on the beach and holidays not log fires and snow;
to encounter God in sunset, mountain grandeur, stillness of dawn or violence of
storm. But we are also right to appreciate and celebrate the Word revealed in
the Bible; to live the story of our own lives in faithfulness to the story of
God in scripture. We do well to heed some wisdom from the Carthusian Statutes
“For they are mistaken, who think that they can easily attain to interior union
with God, while having previously neglected the study of the Word of God, or
later abandoned it altogether.” BOTH Addition AND Subtraction
How I
came to read Irvine Stone’s biographical novel of Michelangelo “The Agony and
the Ecstasy” I don’t remember. Back then as a young engineer art and the
humanities didn’t hold much interest for me and spirituality was mostly about
right belief and conforming reasonably closely to my good Baptist upbringing.
Now some thirty or more years on the contrast between two of Michelangelo’s art
forms is still a powerful paradigm of spiritual formation for me. In the fresco
in the Sistine Chapel the work of art was created on a blank ceiling, built up
little by little by adding a layer of paint and colour here, another layer
there. A long slow process gradually building up layer after layer until the
work of art was complete. Michelangelo’s real love however was sculpture. Here
the process was quite different. The work of art was fully present, in
potential, in the 40 ton slab of marble. All that was required was the chipping
away, the subtraction, of all the bits that didn’t fit! “I saw the angel in
the stone”, Michelangelo said, “and I set it free!” Our spiritual
growth will sometimes be a process of addition, one good thing, virtue, gift,
discipline or victory after another, being added to those already part of us. At
other times the sculptor’s mallet and chisel will have raised clouds of dust,
grit under our feet and broken pieces everywhere! It mostly feels like failure
and loss, desertion and chaos … yet this too, perhaps especially,
is growth. BOTH Contemplation AND Action
Breathing in and breathing out are necessary to survive … in the right
proportion and in the right rhythm. A growing, healthy, spirituality will
include detachment - times for reflection, introspection and personal renewal.
It will also involve involvement - times of engagement with issues, standing for
justice, working for peace. A growing, healthy, spirituality calls for times of
silence and solitude and times for dialogue and solidarity. A growing, healthy,
spirituality requires that we listen … to God, ourselves and others … but also
that we speak … giving a reason for the hope that is in us, bringing
encouragement and prophetic challenge. A growing, healthy, spirituality requires
BOTH contemplation AND action. BOTH Alone AND Together The geographical isolation of New Zealand and the kiwi “do it yourself” attitude intensify the individualism that is prevalent in many western societies. The more communal examples of maori and pacific peoples in New Zealand soften the edges of this pakeha individualism only a little. A significant trend in New Zealand christian culture is the growing number of people who claim christianity but disavow church. The New Zealand fern provides a wonderful national symbol that parallels the body imagery of 1 Corinthians 12. The fern is a fractal - break a small branch off a large one and the small one has the same shape and structure as the big one; break a leaf from the small branch and the leaf has the same shape and structure as the small branch which has the same shape and structure as the whole branch … and so on. “Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” 1 Corinthians 12:27 We may do well to critique and challenge the forms and structures of the church yet a healthy spirituality is one which recognises BOTH the uniqueness and the integrity of the individual’s relationship with God AND the essentially communal nature of christianity with our need for each other.
BOTH Citizen AND Alien
Over
recent years opinions about immigration have been voiced more strongly. More
polarisation can be seen on racial issues. “An Ethic for Christians and Other
Aliens in a Strange Land” is an evocatively titled (and well worth reading)
book by William Stringfellow. We are all aliens in this world; yet we are all
citizens. We are at home here and yet there is a home for which the heart longs.
A healthy, growing, spirituality is at home in, appreciates, nurtures and cares
for the earth, the environment in which we live. At the same time it
acknowledges limitations of time, space and physicality, it enjoys transcendent
moments of grace and yearns for fulfilment yet to come.
To grow
in our spirituality we need openness to other - the one who is different from me
denominationally, theologically. We need openness to other - the one whose
cultural experience of faith and practice is different to mine. We need openness
to other - interfaith dialogue, respect and friendship. A growing healthy
spirituality needs BOTH citizen AND alien and acknowledges that we are
BOTH citizen AND alien. As I conclude this reflection on “BOTH - AND” Spirituality I suggest three ways in which it may be implemented, only one of which is healthy. 1 We can swing between extremes, being full on at one extreme for a while then swinging wildly to its opposite. Feeling as if we are doing the splits, trying to hold together two things that are mutually exclusive. This is a schizophrenic spirituality. 2 We can work intensely at being balanced, always on the alert, moving forward tentatively, struggling for control, trying hard, nervously straining not to fall. This is “tightrope walker” spirituality.
3 We can
be secure, calm, well grounded. Choosing the appropriate response from the range
available as discernment indicates. It seems to me that the need of our time is
not for clever men and women, nor even for knowledgeable men and women. Our need
is for wise men and women. This is the spirituality of the sage. As we grow in “BOTH - AND” Spirituality, allowing it to form us then we will see more wise women and wise men in whom the words of the Teacher in Ecclesiastes become incarnate. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven …
by Barbara Sampson
We’d
long been shepherds the three of us
While
others thought us ignorant
If I’d
seen it on my own I would know it as a dream
There
was no shepherd skill we missed
by Andrew Dunn We live in an exciting age when spirituality and spiritual values are not only freely discussed but are expressed in anything from personal beliefs to company statements.
As we
try to make some sense of all this in a world wide open to spiritual things how
do we here in Aotearoa New Zealand make some sense of it? What in our
context gives us a handle on spirituality? Here are a few images of spirituality
that may entice some reflection:
Breathing
- the
word “spirituality” itself comes from the Latin word spirare, meaning ‘to
breathe’, the most basic life-giving action of all human beings. We see it in
familiar words like respiration and inspiration suggesting that like breathing
spirituality is not an optional extra in life. So spirituality is how we
“breathe” as people who are more than animals of flesh and blood, more than
economic units of society, more than doers and producers, who we are and where
we fit in society and culture. Our breathing will depend on our cultural and
inherited spiritual values as well as the fresh learnings from our more recent
and current encounters with God. Are there kiwi ways of breathing?
Undoubtedly. And of course, how we breathe spiritually impacts on our
expressions of faith and on how we worship, and there are many of those in
Aotearoa New Zealand today.
Nourishing
– what nourishes us at the core of our being, in our soul, our “nephesh” (all my
being) are the things to return to again and again. There lies the source of
strength and growth for the whole of life. This happens in many ways and varied
places. How often are there deeply nourishing moments with gatherings of friends
or family around a drink, food and the delights of story telling, recalling and
reliving great moments, so that they too become great moments? How often in
times of celebration and worship? It’s no wonder that at the heart of
spiritualities there are often sacramental or symbolic meals like Passover, Holy
Communion, Love Feast. However, the kiwi dinner party, the hangi, barbie, a fire
on the beach or at the crib or bach, sharing a drink with friends and mates are
nourishing too for many of us, at levels deeper than some of us can name.
Refreshing
– when
there are so many things we do that refresh us - a cup of coffee, a jug of beer,
a bottle of wine, a sip from a mountain stream, a pot of tea with friends,
coffee in the café, sitting in the shade after a busy day, wandering the beach
on a fine evening – it’s clear that a lot more is going on than just a cup or a
sip, a jug or wander. We are refreshed, outside in, head to toe, body and mind
and spirit. Again, it’s significant that so many ways of spirituality use drink
and drinking ceremonies to refresh the soul. “Blessed are you, Lord, God of all
creation, through your goodness we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine
and made with human hands. It will be our spiritual drink” – the ancient Hebrew
blessing Jesus used at the Last Supper. He could boldly say, “I am the water of
life – whoever comes to me will never be thirsty”. Spirituality is about
refreshment and our land has an abundance of suitable images.
Connecting and awareness -
Spirituality also links us together … with others, with creation, with the
universe, with life, with God who made us and holds all things in being.And
spirituality opens in us an awareness of the rich and delicate things we’re
talking about in this paper, dimensions that are as real and true as sight and
hearing and touch. They are the spiritual dimensions of life – taha wairua.
Companioning
–
spirituality is about discovering that we are companioned in life. Con
and panis, breaking bread together is something we do in many ways from
marriage, family, friendship to sport teams, tramping, fishing, art and craft,
music and worship - an abundance of images and examples.
Unfolding
– The koru unfolding from the crown of the tree ferns, the mighty kauri and
totara lifting high, reaching for the sky, the delicacy of the mosses and
lichens sprouting abundantly in the beech forests, the subtle beauty of our
fungi and native flowers let alone the beauty and delights of imported flora –
and so much of it providing rich images of life, growth and beauty and the
wonder of God’s handcrafting ways.
Meeting
– here’s a central point of spirituality: a sense of meeting and being met. Some
spiritualities focus more on reaching out, striving for, seeking the unknown.
Others focus more on the sense of being met, hearing one’s name called, sensing
that love is near and reaching into us – what Paul Hawker calls “secret affairs
of the soul” (title of his book). The reaching out sort usually require
considerable effort or routine or obedience; the being met sort tend to focus
more on how to respond appropriately when “it” happens. Both focus on mystery
and how God attracts our attention. The first tends to focus more on the
transcendent aspects of God; the other on the immanent, God’s closeness in all
things and at all times. Both can leave us bowled over and often wordless as the
significance of being loved to the core of one’s being sinks in. The
transcendent sort invites deeper silence and solitude with their attendant
listening in awe for the still small voice.
Listening
– As Jesus put it so sharply, “Blessed are those who hear the word of God and
obey it”. In its broadest sense spirituality listens widely and openly for the
voice of God however it comes. In its more focussed sense it listens to the
written word of Scripture and to the voice of the living Word amongst us – and
obeys their invitations to life in all its fullness.
Depthing
– “deep calls to deep” writes a Hebrew poet (Psalm 42:7). For him or her it was
through the harsh events of exile in a foreign land that this occurred. For
anyone searching for deeper things today it is a wonderful image of
spirituality. In an increasingly shallow world spirituality calls to deeper
things, out from the shallows of the shoreline to where the deep blue water is.
Or catches our attention when we gaze into the depths of a backwater pool. It’s
an image of the invitation to the fathomlessness of God. It’s an invitation to
explore God’s deep love and grace. And it’s our own deep hearts that call to
God’s deep heart. Or is it God who calls to us? This depthing becomes an
exploration of our life in God and God in us - regardless of any religious
affiliations!
Quality
of spirit
-
There’s a very useful Russian word to describe spirituality – dukhovnost. “It
refers to a quality of spirit … While referring to the intimate life of prayer,
it also suggests moral capacity, courage, wisdom, mercy, social responsibility,
a readiness to forgive, a way of life centred on love … in short all that
happens in our life when God is the central point of reference”. (Jim Forest –
quoted in the book IONA – the energy of God).
Spirituality always invites us to explore the implications of “breathing” more
deeply for it is never a selfish enterprise nor a self-centred indulgence. It
always has an outward focus on how we live life and serve others in this world
we live in. This means that spirituality has an uncomfortable, sometimes
abrasive aspect to it as we challenge the accepted norms and ask the deep
questions about the central issues of life on planet earth.
These
are some images of spirituality – what others make sense for you? (An earlier version of this paper was published this year in three student newspapers in Auckland tertiary institutions)
by Anthea Harper
An answerphone message. An article request for ‘Refresh’. Something like “What is the place of spirituality in personal maturity?”
My response? A long pause. Then I thought “Well, you know perhaps it’s a bit like asking “What is the place of breathing in personal life”!” And that got me pondering. So here I am thinking and tapping out my longer response to you.
“I once heard a phrase about God being like the air we breathe.”
“Say some more.”
“It’s about God, or Spirit, being the life force, the ruah, the everywhere-for-everyone Presence. It’s about Spirit in the in-spiration, the in-breath and the out-breath, the ebb and flow, the taking in and letting go. You know what happens if we try to stop this natural process?”
“Yes! Blue in the face! Can be fatal!”
“Yes! And even when there is an obstruction, like having a blocked nose, the rhythm in life is inhibited. When the passage for the flow of Spirit is closed we are slow to grow.”
“I’ve heard somewhere that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. Is that what you’re saying too?”
“Yes. And because of that spirituality is the essence of our Divinely created nature. Spirit is available to all - like the air we breathe.”
“Sounds like we just simply couldn’t live without it! So, what’s the connection with maturity?”
“I was wondering that too, and have a couple of ideas. Along the way I have noticed that there are three things needed for change, for growth in wholeness, for maturity. They are awareness, willingness and support.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that unless we are aware of what’s there, we cannot easily and consciously make choices. Our freedom is limited. Spirit within and outside us invites, informs, encourages us to choose freedom, choose life, - in a word, communicates. So, listening is key to awareness. It’s about letting in. Letting in what’s there.
“For example, I was visiting a friend in Australia last week who was considering saying ‘yes’ to a job working with indigenous young people in Alice Springs. She has engaged in work of this kind in Mexico and is well experienced and qualified for work like this. Her ‘professional self’ was keen, and vocal on the subject! But as she listened to her thoughts, she heard another voice from within, whispering ‘Please, I need some time and attention, healing and comfort’.
“In her listening she became aware of something long and silent. Now she had two options instead of one demand. Choice was possible.”
“O.K. So, is this where willingness comes in?”
“ Yes. Willingness is our commitment to openness. Here trust is the key. It’s about letting go. Letting go fear. It’s about an assent to the consequences of awareness, a surrender to the constant stirring of Spirit unfolding wholeness within us and around us. My friend declared her willingness, not only to stop, attend, listen, but also to face her fear around taking the journey inwards. She said “yes” to the cry from within. Often Yes to this journey requires more courage than a trip to Alice Springs!”
“And what about support?”
“Up to this point we have been exploring, if you like, the vertical dimension of spirituality. Here we address the horizontal dimension. We all need support from others.
“And what kind? Probably many and varied. For example, having a context where we remember that we are joined to others for the purpose of giving and receiving love. It’s about being accountable, connected. It’s about Spirit embodied for the sake of the earthed unfolding into wholeness as I mentioned earlier. It’s about having a place where respect is paramount, where we can be ‘ruthlessly honest’ with ourselves in the presence of another. It’s about letting a trusted person in on some of our deepest feelings and thoughts. It’s about having our deepest motives probed. It’s about care, incarnated grace, humour, and being ‘held’. Listening to Spirit together ..... My friend shared her emerging awareness with me. She was willing to trust her heart and my love. She voiced her fears. She admitted she needed someone to help facilitate this process of awareness and willingness. She invited my support to do this.”
“Where else do you see this happening?”
“I am aware of Spirit using every ordinary and mysterious opportunity to awaken this awareness and guide our willingness! I guess spiritual direction is a particularly focused form of this kind of support. We need someone to walk alongside, facilitating awareness of what is right here and now, without agenda or judgement, and encouraging the willingness to embrace it.”
“Shouldn’t we just rely on God, though?”
“Ah! Do I hear a hint of what I would call spirit-duality!”
“Spirit-duality! What do you mean?”
“Well, in some people over the years I have noticed a tendency to think we should look only to God for all of our needs. Whilst we all acknowledge that God is the source of all we are and have, it’s the attitude of excluding the human face of the Spirit that concerns me. So, the notion that the truly ‘spiritual’ rely only on the vertical dimension of relationship with God and dismiss God’s vital presence in the horizontal dimension of relating, is a wrinkled and distorted view of Love incarnate, I have come to see.
“That’s why I like the notion of breathing. It brings together the Divine in the human, matter and spirit, into a single integrated whole. All things seen and unseen - in rhythm, connected”.
“Oh! Yes! That reminds me of one of my favourite definitions of intelligence: Intelligence is the ability to make connections! Great, eh!”
“I think that has a whole lot to do with maturity - maturity as the ability to recognise connections. From this comes wisdom - the mark of the mature. There is something I want to underline as we chew the first bite of this discussion apple and that is, something about knowing through experience that the Spirit is at work within us and in our world at all times and in all ways. That we can trust this, surrender to it. At most what we are called and enabled to be is aware, willing, and supported in this adventure of Life.”
by Sue Pickering
Recently I had a day to spare in Dunedin and ventured out with my husband to Otago Peninsula to see the albatross colony, something I had wanted to do for years.
With the sparkling harbour to our left, and a real sense of anticipation, we drove along the coast until we reached the Royal Albatross Visitors’ Centre which catered for tourists and ornithologists alike. We went straight inside and approached the counter to find out when we could join a tour to the viewing area - I couldn’t wait to see the remarkable wingspan and the sheer size of the birds - far bigger than anything I had seen before.
But, in
well-rehearsed and firm tones, the receptionist informed us that the viewing
area was closed! We had arrived at the very time when the area was off limits,
so that the birds could be undisturbed during their courtship, mating and
nesting
WHAT A DISAPPOINTMENT! No amount of realistic renditions of albatross in the various static displays, no award winning video clips showing the ocean from above and below, no photographic records detailing the life of the colony, could make up for the real thing - seeing albatross with my own eyes.
I moped about a bit, reluctant to give up the prospect of seeing a real live albatross, until John persuaded me to explore the path leading down towards the cliff edge at the end of Otago Peninsula. I hung onto my hope - perhaps I would see a wingéd one sailing the skies above - and I scanned the view in front of me with longing in my heart. BUT - no amount of searching the clouds and sea stretching out to infinity produced a glimpse of the hoped-for albatross. There was only the occasional spotted shag or common seagull pottering diligently about against a background of waves pounding the rocks far below.
Only the ordinary… ONLY the ordinary?
Gradually I set aside expectation and disappointment and started to look, really look at what was there in front of me and I saw, really saw :
Once I slowed down long enough to see what was before me, the disappointment melted away and I found myself surprisingly blessed by the ordinary as I saw glimpses of God’s beauty, power and faithfulness.
I left that place refreshed.
As we made our way back to our car, I thought of the person whose foresight and dedication had nurtured countless albatross and established this sanctuary. The question of the value of one individual’s contribution to the world was something God knew I had been struggling with for some time. This man’s example reminded me that one person’s commitment and vision can indeed make a difference and through that awareness God answered my unspoken prayer.
What is ‘albatross’ spirituality ? For me it has something to do with the liberating expansiveness of God’s love, rather than the life-denying weight of old habits and addictions around our necks.
It has to do with attitudes and preconceptions and how these affect our experience of God’s presence in our lives.
It reminds me of the need for stilling and focusing, the slow settling into an interior silence, the need for a receptivity of spirit.
It speaks to me of longing and thirst for personal experience, the disappointment of unmet expectations, the value of persistent searching,
the
invitation to take a ‘long loving look at the real’, until we experience the joy
of being surprised by God’s grace, revealed to us in the ordinary things of
by Joyce Rupp
Leader: God who sings in our hearts, as the flute needs openness to receive the breath of melody, we pray to be open to the many ways that your symphony of love plays in our lives.
All: Thank you for the way that your enlivening Spirit touches us and moves through our beings. Remind us often that each one of us is a special instrument of yours. Together we create the wondrous music in your concert of love.
Leader: You stand at the door of our hearts, asking for an entrance. You desire to come in and share the intimacy of your presence with us. (Rev.3:20)
All: Behold, we open the door of our minds and hearts. We welcome your entrance and long for deeper union with you. Come and make music through our lives. Dance through our days and sing in our hearts.
Leader: We have days when we resist your movement and message. We seek you in stillness, but forget you in busyness. We yearn for fullness, but miss you in emptiness. We welcome you in joy, but reject you in sorrow. We rejoice in the harvest but struggle with the planting.
All: Open our inner eyes so that we may know you in all the dimensions of our lives. Help us to trust you in the numerous ups and downs, to believe that your song can happen in all aspects of our existence.
Leader: God of courage and strength, we are waiting to receive your loving energy in the empty corners of our hearts. It is your power working through us that can do more than we can ever ask or imagine. It is your enlivening breath moving through us that enables us to overcome anxieties, fears, doubts and misgivings (Eph.3:20).
All: Breathe through us, Music Maker, and let your song weave a melody through all we are and do. May we acknowledge your power at work in us and open ourselves to this blessing.
Leader: You are a God who accepts the uniqueness and beauty of every individual. You love us as we are while you yearn for us to be more. You invite us to extend this kind of love to those who challenge our compassion and our patience. Your love within us will give us the strength to love them as we ought.
All: Nudge us and encourage us to accept those people who are alien to our love. May your song of kindness and patience be sung through us. Fill our attitude toward others with notes of understanding and nonjudgment.
(Taken from Out Of The Ordinary c2000 by Joyce Rupp. Used by permission of Ave Maria Press. All rights reserved).
SPIRITUALITY IS A LOT LIKE THAT by Maggie Smith
I was walking, last week, on the Port Hills which overlook the city of Christchurch on one side and the harbour of Lyttelton on the other … on a track to Taylor’s Mistake, a great beach for surf. High cliffs are pockmarked with hundreds of tiny caves and ledges – nesting places for sea birds in August to October. Year after year they return to their own piece of real estate – safe from predators and storms, plentiful food and marvellous uplifting air currents to practice flying and gliding, to strengthen young wings for the journeys of life.
Spirituality is a lot like that.
It is that natural returning instinct.
It is flying-home to the place of my true identity and purpose – the “I am” place. Only from that place can I live life to the full – in all its abundance. Only from that place can I be strengthened for the journeys of life.
An image I warmed to, as the birds circled and dived with such joy and freedom and ease. It helps to use an image … for spirituality is a mystery that cannot be defined even as God is a Mystery who cannot be defined.
“St Lynas was quietly reading an old theology book somebody had given him, and was ploughing through chapters about the nature of God. The brothers in the room were startled when he suddenly stood up, and with great force threw the book through the open window. ‘This book should not be laid aside lightly,’ he said vehemently, ‘ but thrown with great force!’ ‘What’s the matter with it?’ they asked. ‘The fellow’s grammar is all wrong!’ said St Lynas. ‘God is a verb, not a noun.’” (The Gospel According to St Lynas. Frank Pagden)
I am a spiritual being … that is me … my true and deep me. - the me God meets in the relationship we call prayer - the spontaneous moment of wonder and delight – aware of the hand of the Creator - the devotional moment of receiving bread and wine in remembrance - the moment of gratitude – a silent thank You - the moment of grief – sorrow shared with the One acquainted with grief - formal prayer – familiar, well-loved words - informal prayer – words tumbled and tangled … or no words at all
Prayer – being together – I am me meeting I Am God.
Perhaps that is the noun part of spirituality.
The spiritual quest is a journey without distance. You travel from where you are right now to where you have always been … spirituality … is only a matter of becoming. (Anthony de Mello). That’s the verb part.
Noun and verb together have this instinctive longing –
the desire of deep to deep
That’s the Grace part.
by Warren Deason
To speak of the spirituality of Jesus is to speak of Jesus’ way of attending to and living out of his experiential relationship with the I AM WHO I AM, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the Holy One of Israel, and whom he embraced as Abba, his own dear father.
It is speaking of the way Jesus nourished his inner life, it is speaking of his experience of God’s presence and the consequences of this for his life and ministry and his view of the world. So what were its essential elements?
First of all it was a spirituality that had its roots in Judaism. This may seem obvious but it is important to remind ourselves that Jesus was first and foremost a Jew. It’s important, because in reading the debates and controversies in the gospels, we can easily assume that Jesus was set on founding a new religion rather than trying to persuade his contemporaries to return to what he believed lay at the heart of the Jewish faith and to form a movement to renew that faith from within.
Today Jesus is being viewed very sympathetically by many Jewish scholars and much of the debate hinges around the nature of Jesus’ controversies with the religious authorities.
Any resolution seems difficult as the Jewish side tends to downplay the record of any major departure from Jewish tradition as a Christian interpolation and the Christian side tends to emphasise it as a genuine innovation.
We can however reasonably expect that Jesus observed most of the pious practices of Judaism, valuing the law and encouraging others to do the same. However, he was concerned about what lay at the Law’s heart and when questioned about this quotes the Shema – “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength”. This comes first and out of it flows a commitment to love your neighbour as yourself.
Jesus’ spirituality was charismatic. For Jesus, God’s authoritative presence, God’s Spirit of power, was a living experiential reality. His ministries of healing and exorcism were signs that he believed in the power of God’s Spirit to be instrumental in bringing about the reality of the kingdom in people’s lives. Everything that stood in the way of God’s dream for the world was being swept aside.
Jesus’ vision was shaped by the words of the prophet in Isaiah 61:1. The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me, because God anointed me. He sent me to preach good news to the poor, heal the heartbroken, announce freedom to all captives, pardon all prisoners. (The Message. 2002)
The other profound sense of God’s presence that Jesus had was of an intimate experience of God as Abba. This seemed to be Jesus’ favourite way of addressing the Holy One of Israel. Jesus sensed that he could relate to God in the way a child might respond to a loving parent.
This distinctive sense of sonship was a key element in Jesus’ spirituality. This was a lively intimacy that Jesus enjoyed. He expected and experienced the care and love of God as Abba - Father and in response offered respect, dedication, obedience and self-giving service.
The robust experiential nature of this relationship has even led Jesus to be described as a Jewish “mystic”. New Testament scholar Marcus Borg approvingly quotes William James’ assertion that for Jesus the experience of the Divine was a “first hand” rather than a “second hand” religious belief.
This is highlighted by the gospel accounts of Jesus’ baptism at the hands of John. Whatever Jesus, or indeed the crowd, “saw” or “heard”, there was for him a profound internal sense of the Father’s approval and acceptance.
Jesus’ spirituality embraced silence and solitude. Following his baptismal experience he spent several weeks in the desert wilderness wrestling with the implications of his profound sense of connection to God.
During his ministry Jesus often withdrew to what the gospel writers refer to as “lonely places” in order to pray – often for whole nights alone or sometimes very early before others were awake. It seemed Jesus would often withdraw in such a way when he faced difficult or critical moments in his ministry. The Gethsemane accounts reflect Jesus’ prayer as an intense struggle - a passionate and painful engagement with Abba. A struggle born out of a sudden sense of disruption to the intimate sense of care and love that he usually experienced.
How much Jesus’ piety embraced the usual forms of corporate worship in synagogue or temple and the three set periods of prayer each day we do not know from the gospels. We can only assume that Jesus as a pious Jew probably would have shared in such practices and indeed some of his sharpest encounters with authority and his preaching took place in synagogues.
Jesus’ spirituality had a contemplative edge. “Consider the lilies of the field”, he told his followers, so you might appreciate God’s gracious providence and care. Jesus would often use such everyday scenes and events to raise “working”, sometimes uncomfortable, questions in the lives of his hearers. In fact Jesus’ spirituality often involved seeing the world in a different way - a way he spoke of as “the kingdom”; a way that would often turn conventional ways of seeing upside down and challenge accepted wisdom. Ways of seeing that asked people to look at others in new ways. Ways of seeing that invited people to see themselves in new ways. These were not ways reserved for some indefinite future. They were ways that could be embraced in the here and now as followers of Jesus.
This gave for many, a disturbing edge to Jesus’ ministry. Jesus charismatic spirituality embraced the prophetic. If God’s kingdom is God’s dream, the way things are when God is king, then what does that say about existing orders and structures? What about structures that are based on power and wealth and the domination of others? How does God see it when religious systems and values become caught up in these structures and are used to perpetuate them rather than challenge them?
Another strong feature of Jesus’ spirituality was his sense of God’s inclusiveness. This is perhaps nowhere more apparent than in the many fellowship meals recorded in the gospels. The fact that Jesus chose to eat with those regarded as “outcasts and sinners” sent a strong message about how he understood the nature and love of God. The web of regulations surrounding the consumption of food was based on the concept of purity. What you ate, where and how you ate it and with whom, were all vital issues.
The Holy One was seen as distinct and separate, not to be associated with anything unclean. By implication God’s people must also maintain this stance toward their lives. No detail of life was too small to be subjected to this requirement. Unclean things and unclean people were out of bounds and to be avoided. It was these boundaries that Jesus challenged. His experience of God as Abba gave him a deep sense of God’s compassion for all things. “Be compassionate as God is compassionate”.
Jesus said that this compassionate and generous God welcomed home the outcast. In fact this God would be so overtaken with joy that he would run out in ungainly and undignified fashion to embrace them. This was a compassionate God who subverted the usual conventions about performance and reward.
Jesus’ spirituality invites us to be in relationship with the compassionate, gracious God we too may name as Abba; to be captivated by God’s dream of transformation and change and open to having our own lives and priorities disrupted and challenged; to have our hearts softened by God’s mercy and enlarged by God’s inclusiveness; to become more deeply contemplative as we increasingly discover God at the heart of all things.
FRUITS OF SILENCE AND STILLNESS by Ross Miller
…the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. (Mark 4:27)
On one occasion while I was hanging about idly, a four-year-old decided to engage me in conversation about Batman. My knowledge of Batman is not extensive, and this became apparent. The child looked at me and asked, Do you only know a few things? Smart kid. Spotted it right off.
But not knowing, so often, is not what we want at all. We were raised on Beliefs, which we like to see confirmed in experience. We assume that God has a purpose for us, and we like to see that purpose working out, as we say. We have always understood that some things are true and some things are not, and we generally expect to be able to know what is and what isn’t.
I have noticed that not many contemplatives get involved in this kind of debate. Contemplative prayer and life brings us into the realm of not knowing, or no longer knowing as we did; indeed of unknowing, not needing to know, calling in question even basic things we thought we knew.
Or rather, it might be more accurate to say, the contemplative acquires “knowing” at another level, more direct and intuitive – and not very communicable. St Paul wrote of the eyes of your heart being open, that you may know… (Eph. 1:18) |
