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COMMENT by Andrew Dunn

In this issue of Refresh we continue our exploration of spirituality by offering a wide range of articles, poems and scriptures relating to meditation. We haven’t tried to “iron out” the differences of approach to, or understandings of, meditation. Indeed they are important to encompass the breadth of practice and invite us to explore more widely than our own favoured ways and inherited insights.

The word meditation suggests a process of the mind and heart in which ideas and words, events and stories are pondered and savoured so that discoveries are made, new glimpses of God’s grace in our world are seen or heard and our relationship with God is deepened and enriched.

It is a process in which grace, the energy of God’s loving, is available to us for our refreshment, encouragement, change and growth.

Various ways of meditating include:

-    Sitting in silence, centering, waiting and inviting God’s presence.

-    Use of a verse or passage of scripture, or other helpful book.

-    Use of a repetitive saying or mantra such as  “God is Love”,  “Maranatha – come Lord Jesus”, “Jesus” etc.

-    Reflecting on your life’s events.

-    Examining the events, discoveries, joys and pains of the day.

-    Listening to and making music.

-    Focussing on something in creation, in art or a symbol.

-    Being in creation.

One of the important issues of concern for many believers coming to meditation, at least initially, is whether it’s safe or not. Sheila Pritchard seeks to allay these fears.

Another way of coming at this issue of safety is to ask ourselves how comfortable we are to draw near to God, to sit in the presence of Jesus, to dwell in the holy, to be met by the searching Spirit of God. With disciples from every age entering this school of prayer there is always the challenge of how open and vulnerable we are in meditation.  That is, how likely we are to be challenged, to be taken to the cleaners, to be loved uncomfortably and in out-of-control ways (well out of our control anyway). And perhaps that’s a central issue here – how readily and fully can we give ourselves to the profound and searching gaze of our true, pure, holy, no humbug Creator and Lover? How will our hearts and minds react and seek safer ground when met by the absolute silence of God, the wholefully healing love of pure Agape, the extraordinary expansiveness of Life that invites us out of our safe places built to protect ourselves, the undeniable invitations to go with God wherever we’re led? That’s where it’s really unsafe and often distinctly uncomfortable!

Even then, yes of course it is safe to meditate because, as Ross Miller pointed out at a recent meditation day, in Christian meditation we always meet the risen Lord Jesus Christ! And it is safe because in meditation we expect that we may be strengthened in our inner being with power through the Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in our hearts through faith as we are being rooted and grounded in love. With St Paul we too can pray that we will have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that we may be filled with all the fullness of God (Ephesians 3:16-19). Now that is some prayer!

Another important matter is the distinction between meditation and contemplation. In one sense they are distinct and separate, as in the lectio divina (holy reading) sequence of meditation the meditatio  is a step along the way to the contemplatio. Many of us find this a helpful distinction to keep in mind. However, others find the two blending into one and some writers talk of the two as one and the same. You will note these distinctions in material presented here. One helpful idea for me is Don Ferguson’s  “contemplative meditation”, the title of his booklet published in Whakatane by the Titoki Healing Centre Trust: “In the silence of Contemplative Meditation our aim is to increase our awareness of Christ as ever-present with us, and so to receive His Spirit into our heart and mind that in daily life we may bring His Peace and Wisdom and Love to bear on all we do”  (P.3).

In this issue we touch into a few of the ways of meditating and hope for our readers that these will stimulate a rich discovery of how our meditative/contemplative faculties work – yes, and how fruitful they are for prayer and life.

IS IT REALLY OK TO MEDITATE?   by Sheila Pritchard

Meditation is almost a buzz word these days! It’s something practised by people from all walks of life and many religious traditions. Sadly this very fact makes some Christians nervous or even fearful. Questions arise like: “Is it really Christian?”  “Do I have to empty my mind?” “Won’t I be opening myself to evil forces?” “Isn’t it really ‘New Age’?” Such questions are asked with sincerity and deserve a thoughtful response.

Let’s start with “is it really Christian?” The short answer is a resounding Yes! Psalm 1 tells us that a person who meditates on God’s word is like a tree planted by streams of water, yielding fruit. In season and having leaves that don’t wither. The background to that enticing picture is that in the Old Testament meditation was regarded as an essential aspect of godly living. The Israelites were to ensure that God’s word was repeatedly recalled and remembered in every aspect of daily life.

“Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates, so that your days and the days of your children may be many in the land that the Lord swore to give your forefathers, as many as the days that the heavens are above the earth.” Deut 11:18-21 NIV

In more contemporary language it seems to me that God is saying: “My words are your source of life so soak yourself in them in every way you can. This will involve your heart as well as your mind. Use various kinds of symbols as powerful reminders. Ordinary conversations will help you chew over the implications of my words to daily life. You can ponder them as you walk and write them down so you don’t forget. My words will restore you as you lie down to rest and motivate you as you get up to face the new day. Use all these ways to draw life from me so that your days will be full and fruitful.”

Although the precise word “meditation” doesn’t appear in this passage it covers the many ways in which people were encouraged to “soak up”, “dwell on” and “chew over” God’s words and God’s character. That’s what meditation is about!

Jesus would have been taught to meditate¹ in this way as part of his Jewish upbringing. When he was being sorely tempted in the wilderness the word of God was already in his heart and mind, rooted there by years of meditation and accessible in a time of great stress to enable him not to “wither” under pressure.

Looking at this Biblical background answers some other questions as well. Not only is meditation deeply rooted in our Judeo-Christian heritage but it is clearly not about “emptying our mind” in a way that leaves us open to “other forces”. We are invited to meditate on something – namely the character and word of God. Yes, meditation is practised by people of other faiths  - or none. This tells us that meditation is universally seen as a powerful way to enter into a deep and quiet place to focus on what matters most to the person meditating. What matters most to Christians is being open to the Spirit of God, the word of God and the presence of Jesus. Meditation is simply a process to enable that to happen. Common features of the process include finding a quiet place, having an erect yet relaxed posture, breathing gently and deeply and being open to the chosen focus.

When Christians fear that “meditation is New Age”, my (rather provocative!) response might be: “Yes it is. Isn’t that wonderful!” And after they recover from the shock I’d explain that this shows that those loosely gathered under the “New Age” heading are seeking a deep and personal spiritual experience and are willing to have a disciplined practice of meditation as part of their spirituality. Maybe they can teach Christians a thing or two! How many Christians have a disciplined spiritual practice of meditation? Talking about meditation might be a wonderful way to build bridges and learn from each other.

Of course, as already mentioned, the process of meditation spans many religious traditions and is practised by those who would not describe themselves as “religious” at all (including most New Agers). It has its own universal benefits of quietening the mind, relaxing the body and generally bringing one into a peaceful, centred place. Those are wonderful reasons for meditating anyway, without any particular religious focus.

However, when we come to meditation with the desire to be open to the Spirit of God, we can, I believe, trust God to meet us. After all it was God’s idea in the first place! Jesus told his disciples that one of the roles of the Holy Spirit is to lead us to the truth.² Excessive fear of “emptying my mind in case something ungodly comes in” really doesn’t give much credit to the power of God’s Spirit!

A good place to start if Christian meditation is something you haven’t explored before is to learn the simple steps of “spiritual reading”.³ I call this the bread and butter of Biblical meditation. It follows closely the scriptural injunction from Deuteronomy quoted earlier. In its most simple form the steps are: take a short passage of Scripture, read it slowly and stop as soon as something catches your attention. Chew over the phrase or image that has attracted you, believing that the Spirit has something more to say to you about this idea or sentence. Be curious and open to the connections God may want to make with your life. Don’t hurry on. Stay with it until these few words are imprinted on your heart to bear fruit now or later.

Another wonderful way to meditate on the character of God as revealed in Scripture is to take any Gospel story where Jesus is interacting with someone and put yourself in the scene. Don’t just read the story, be part of it. Hear the sounds, smell the smells, see the scenery, imagine it as fully as you can. Then step into it as a member of the crowd or a key person in the story and notice your own reactions to Jesus. Are you joining Peter in stepping out of the boat, or hanging back wanting to watch someone else go first?⁴ Do you push through the crowd to touch Jesus’ cloak or do you give up because you think he wouldn’t have time for you?⁵

There are deep and wonderful things to discover about our own relationship with Jesus by meditating in this way. Too often we only read the story as someone else’s experience. Meditating on the story takes us right into a personal encounter with Jesus.

Jesus demonstrated yet another focus for our meditation. He often used creation as a starting point for meditating on the character of the Creator. Well known examples include “Consider the lilies of the field…”⁶  “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing…”⁷ “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed.”⁸  Jesus didn’t want people to stop at seeing creation superficially. He wanted them to go deeper, to meditate on what the creation says about the Creator.

In essence meditation is about taking time and making space for something important to go deeper. Whether it is a verse of Scripture, an encounter with Jesus or an aspect of creation, meditation is one of the best ways to take seriously the life-giving resources God offers us.⁹ After all if meditation is the way to let our roots go deep into springs of living water maybe the question should be: “How could anyone not meditate?” !

¹   Matt 4:1-11

²  John 14:16-17, 26

³   Often known as Lectio Divina from its Monastic origins.

⁴   Matt 14:22-32

⁵   Luke 8:40-48

⁶   Matt 6:28

⁷   Matt 10:29

⁸   Matt 13:31

⁹   For a fuller description of these and other types of meditation see The Lost Art of Meditation by Sheila Pritchard (Scripture Union, 2003)

JESUS AND MEDITATION

What some writers are suggesting:

James D. G. Dunn

… we can conclude meaningfully that a boy brought up in Nazareth in lower Galilee in the early years of the first century CE is properly described as a ‘Jew’. That description would presumably have included a pious upbringing by his parent(s) and education in Torah at the local village assembly/synagogue. Whether he could read for himself or not, Jesus’ knowledge of and familiarity with Scripture indicated in the Synoptic tradition is entirely plausible, even for the son of an artisan. … he would have been familiar with the Temple and its functionaries, priests who served locally as teachers and magistrates, and the requirements of tithing and purity. He no doubt said the Shema (Deut. 6.4), probably as a daily obligation, (cf Mark 12.29-30) and prayed, probably two or three times a day (cf. Josephus, Ant. 4.212). We can also assume that the adult Jesus observed the Sabbath, attended the synagogue, and ‘gave every seventh day over to the study of our customs and law’ (Josephus, Ant. 16.43), even though only Luke 4.16 indicates that synagogue attendance was his normal custom. The references to the ‘tassels’ of his garment suggest that he himself was a pious Jew who took his religious obligations seriously (Matt. 9.20/Luke 8.44; Mark 6.56/Matt. 14.36).

Jesus Remembered.
Eerdmans 2003. 315-317

Margaret Magdalen

There was obviously something very special about the prayer life of Jesus that led the disciples to say, ‘Lord, teach us to pray.’ What he taught them and what they have recorded for us of his own practice have been left for us as clues he invites and intends us to pick up, ponder, share and appropriate in our own path of prayer.  … we come to see Jesus the mystic, Jesus the contemplative, Jesus the intercessor, Jesus the faithful son of Abraham, recipient of the Hebrew scriptures and liturgy of his faith, Jesus who wept in prayer and cried out in bewilderment to his Father, …

Jesus Man of Prayer. 15.  Hodder 1987

Peter Toon

Jesus certainly meditated. How could he do otherwise when the classic portrait of the godly and righteous person in the Hebrew Scriptures includes meditation day and night upon God’s law! Yet the modern, Western reader of the four Gospels does not see any obvious references to Jesus actually involved in meditation. …

When we carefully read and reflect on the recorded teaching of Jesus in the four Gospels, we cannot avoid the conviction that Jesus was throughout his ministry constantly meditating on the Scriptures. He clearly loved, knew, and had memorized the contents of the Hebrew Bible, but his lively use of the sacred text and his profound development of its teaching reveal much meditation. Cf. Matthew chaps 5-7, and the parables in Matthew 13. …

Jesus encouraged meditation in all kinds of ways, even though he did not present a method of meditation to disciples. … some of these teachings (are):

His call to “Consider”
– Matthew 6:26, 28.

His call to “Hear”
– Matthew 7:24.

His call to “See” and “Understand”
– Mark 4:11-12; 8:14-21.

The Call to “Read”
– Mark 11:17; 12:10, 26, 35-37.

His Call to “Remember”
– Luke 22:19.

We may say that Jesus taught meditation not by a spoon-feeding method but by arousing the spiritual curiosity and aspirations of his disciples. He left it to others to provide methods by which genuine meditation could begin, continue and flourish (emphasis mine – Ed.)

From Mind To Heart – Christian Meditation Today. Baker 1987

Selections from Chapt. 2 – The Example of Jesus.

PRAYING THE SCRIPTURES by Andrew Dunn

People who have sensed that God is meeting them, calling them, loving them, have always found great value and nourishment in meditating on the word of God. Here are some of the ways this has been done over the centuries. They can be wonderfully fruitful and encouraging today and we suggest using each of them from time to time as ways of keeping meditation fresh and fruitful.

“Meditating on the law of the Lord” day and night (Psalm 1) suggests constant repetition, a ‘persistent murmuring’ (Joyce Huggett). Helpful descriptions for meditation are: ruminating, chewing it over and over, seeing new light, drinking water, the rocking of the heart (Cassian), like clothes tumbling in a dryer (Margaret Magdalen).

However meditation occurs, there is a sense of being met and spoken to that changes and deepens us.  “We can only be formed by entering into a relationship with God, who alone has the power to transform us. Reading the scriptures prayerfully is one way we may seek God face-to-face” (Timothy Kelly). Here are five simple ways of meditating on Scripture.

1. LECTION DIVINA

- Holy Reading

It comes from the 4^th century AD and was used by Benedict of Nursia in his Rule and is a rich treasure for today from Benedictine spirituality. It is reflected in some of the Bible reading methods offered today.

The sequence is:

Select your piece of Scripture for the day (Worship Lectionaries are a rich source of suitable material)

Ask for God’s illumination as you read and meditate.

1.  Read  (lectio) – slowly. Pause when something grips you and …

2.  Meditate (meditatio) - ponder, ruminate and enjoy.

3.  Pray  (oratio) – active prayer springing out of what we see, hear or glimpse.

4.  Contemplation (contemplatio) – a gift of God’s presence and love. Dwell here!

5.  Repeat the process as time allows and journal your discoveries. Stay with the same passage for as long as the water flows!

2. EVANGELICAL PRAYER

When Augustine of Hippo heard the words “Take and Read” he read Scriptures which spoke directly into his situation and he became a Christian. The ancient text speaks in lively ways into our lives and experiences so that we too can say that we hear God, Jesus comes to us, the Spirit catches our attention. It is the immediacy of the Scriptures speaking into our lives and contexts that is good news to us – hence the title “evangelical prayer” or Augustinian Prayer.

How To Pray This Way:

Choose a passage. Ask God to apply it to your life. Read it carefully and note its message for you. Meditate on these discoveries and assimilate them into your life and faith. This simple way of praying Scripture lends itself to relaxing with the Psalms, a few chapters of the Gospels, a New Testament or Old Testament book or passage. Journal your insights.

3. IMAGINATIVE PRAYER

Using our imagination to step back into the biblical stories enables us to participate in the action, to hear the words spoken by Jesus, to be encountered back in the text itself. Ignatius of Loyola in the 16^th Century  was profoundly touched like this and it often bears his name. But it has been a way of entering the biblical stories from the beginning.

Praying this way:

Select a passage of Scripture, an encounter story or a narrative. In your imagination place yourself into that passage, encounter or story and be an observer or participant. See what is going on, hear the sounds and what is being said. Experience the scene, action and teaching as applicable to you. You might be the one Jesus speaks to, touches, forgives, heals, looks or smiles at. Let Jesus be for you who he wants to be. Revel in the discoveries and thank God for them. Become a more dedicated and convinced disciple of His. Journal your experiences.

4. PRAYER FOR THE “THINKING” PERSON

Some people naturally have a more questioning, thoughtful approach to faith, to Scripture and their journey with God. We can use this gift as a basis for prayer by doing a study of a Scripture passage, using all our skills, knowledge, lexicons and commentaries to break open the meaning of words, ideas and passages. Meditate on the discoveries, journal them and use them to feed you and expand and deepen your relationship with God.

5. THE JESUS PRAYER

From very early in the Christian Church people took the words of blind Bartimaeus when he called out to Jesus for help, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me” (Luke 18:38).

It became, in the Eastern Orthodox churches, a rich way of keeping in touch with Jesus and is a treasure used more widely today. It can be expanded by using any rich verse of Scripture, biblical words, names for Jesus. This is especially useful when under pressure, when time is short or the pain and darkness profound. Suitable words of joy and delight can also be used very creatively.

It is an excellent way of keeping in touch with Jesus when other forms of prayer have grown empty, when we are ill, or doing menial tasks. It is a rich way of focussing and drawing near again. And no one knows you are praying!

From Praying The Scriptures, Oasis Brochure No. 5. 1994

‘MY SOUL THIRSTS FOR YOU’
Meditation and the Psalms by Anne Hadfield

What is it about the Psalms which captivates us and endures? People who rarely attend a church choose to read Psalm 23 at family funerals. Boney M turns Psalm 137, By the waters of Babylon, into a pop song winner. Is it because the book of Psalms is not sentimental but poetry which captures the guts of universal human experience? Such poetry about the real world transcends history and culture. It touches us and verbalizes what we struggle to express.

There is always a psalm which captures my current situation. I may be feeling lonely and criticized by those I have sought to love. ‘It is not enemies…but you my equal, my companion, my familiar friend¹(Ps 55). Like the psalmist I may be brought to a similar devastating feeling of betrayal.   Or I may be aging and realizing my old bones are not as reliable as before (Ps 71). I may be fearful or in danger, walking through the darkest valley (Ps 23) or  joyful and exhilarated and wanting to praise God ( Ps 148). Perhaps what I feel today is that enigmatic space in my soul which longs for God as a deer longs for flowing streams (Ps 42).

The Psalms also put my little ego in perspective. As the psalmist contemplates nature he is reminded that all of life is interconnected. I too am one of God’s creatures in the midst of many others of God’s creatures in God’s vast universe. Contemporary Quantum Physics is realizing that behind every new discovery there lies another question, another mystery. There are limits to human knowledge and power and it is good to be reminded of this.  When I look at your heavens the work of your fingers…what are human beings that you are mindful of them (Ps 8).

A third quality of the Psalms which calls me to prayer is their expression of our total dependence on God. The warrior may have become King and won many battles but in the end is dependent on God’s mercy to liberate him from guilt and wrong doing. Create in me a clean heart O God and put a new and right spirit within me (Ps 51).²  This heartfelt prayer reminds me that God’s grace is central to my ongoing transformation.

The Psalms have therefore been regarded as a rich treasure chest of prayer down through the centuries. They still provide the foundation of the monastic Office or regular prayer of  religious orders. One who practiced this form of prayer was Thomas Merton. He commented that All good meditative prayer is a conversion of our entire self to God.³

This is reinforced when we examine the Psalms for content about meditation. There are several Hebrew words⁴ translated as ‘meditation’ in the English version of the Book of Psalms. Higayon is used in Psalm 19:14 as prayer. Some preachers preface their words with these words: Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord my rock and my redeemer.

This kind of  meditation or musing is  to be found in Psalm 1:2 where the pray-er is assured that so deep will be its effect that s/he will be like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in season and their leaves do not wither. The soul of the pray-er will be satisfied as with a rich feast and burst into praise as s/he meditates in bed at night. In Psalm 143:5 the poet is meditating on the works of your (God’s) hands and this causes him to stretch out to God in a plea that his soul’s thirst might be quenched. The dynamic between meditation and the soul’s need for God is one of ebb and flow. Meditation both satisfies and creates a deeper longing for that which alone can satisfy, the Source of all life. 

A second root Hebrew word, Sahchah and its variations is translated as ‘meditation’ in English. It has several shades of meaning but each expresses an element of acknowledging one’s own humility before God. These vary from voluntary obeisance to being humbled or cast down. In the words, My mouth shall speak wisdom; the meditation of my heart shall be my understanding the poet is recognizing that it is in the practice of meditation that he receives further understanding and this gift enriches his words beyond intellectual scholarship or understanding (Ps 49: 3).

The passion of the psalmist for meditation on God’s word overflows in Psalm 119. The poet seeks God through meditating on the Hebrew tradition through its precepts (v 15), the law Torah (v 97) and its decrees (v 99). The whole psalm conveys the feeling of a love affair: Oh how I love your law! It is my meditation all day long (v 97). This really is prayer without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:17). Such prayer expresses not only passion about the Word but has become internalized. It has passed from a conscious remembering of the text to become a living script which often emerges to consciousness and at other times is praying within the pray-er.

One of my earliest experiences of the power of such a living script was when I was expecting my first child. Due to circumstances I was left alone in a small hospital while a woman screamed in the next room and the medical staff rushed to an emergency. Panic arose inside me and threatened to overwhelm me. I began hyperventilating but managed to say shreds of Psalm 23 in my mind. Gradually I calmed and my breathing became normal. At that moment a midwife came into the room to check my progress. Suddenly it was all action as I was wheeled into the delivery theatre and shortly afterwards a healthy daughter was born.  

Meditation using the Psalms can be a simple but profound exercise. First of all choose a Psalm which has resonance with your present situation. You may wish to first of all study something of its background and purpose. Then memorize it or a few relevant stanzas. It is important to let the Psalm become part of you by saying it daily for a period of time. Now it is time to approach the Psalm with the heart. One way to do this is to use part of it as a mantra for meditative prayer. For example if Psalm 62 is chosen I might choose verse 1: For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation. A mantra is more easily remembered if it is less than seven syllables so I might abbreviate the verse to God alone or my soul waits. Then say the words on every in breath and as you exhale allow all worries and rush to exit. When you find your mind distracted, gently draw it back to the mantra again. Signal the end of the time of meditation in some way such as with the sound of a chime bar or by blowing out a candle.

In conclusion I would like to say that I perceive the Psalms as wonderful poetic expressions which encourage us to create psalms which are grounded in our own environment in Aotearoa New Zealand. Let feathered psalms soar skyward says Michael Stevens and I immediately visualize a coastal panorama of blue sea and golden toi toi waving in the breeze. Joy Cowley’s psalms have struck such a chord in us that they have been reprinted many times. At a recent parish retreat at Stella Maris overlooking Whanganui a Tara, Wellington harbour, members of Ngaio Union Church composed this psalm collectively. It became the focus of their prayer for the next few days. May it also inspire you to meditate using the psalms.

     Lord, we are the people of Whanganui a Tara,

     The blue harbour cradled by hills,

     Hills of green, gold and purple.

     Stately pine trees look down,

     Water sparkles with fun and laughter.

     Your wind stirs our spirits.

     We thank you for all these gifts, this diversity.

     Even when the mist envelopes us

     You are there.
 

1       All Bible quotes are from the New Revised Standard Version.

2       Attributed to David after he had committed adultery and murder.

3       Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude, 1981.  (New York: Farrar, Stauss & Giroux) P.48

4       I am grateful to JoEllen Duckor for help with the Hebrew etymology.

BEING WITH YOU
Meditation on the Run by John Franklin

“More love, more power, more of you in my life.” So goes the popular worship song. More of you in my life. Sounds good. But how…?  On the run.  That’s how.  Mobil does it.  So can we. On the run I can have more of you in my life. Well, there can be more conscious invitation, awareness and reflection in the midst of everything else that’s going on.  So let’s try it.

I wake, and the sky is blue.  “Nice job. You are the light waiting for me.  Good morning.”  I pause and welcome you before my mind races off to remind me of what I am supposed to be doing, delivering and being today. “Be my light.”

Feet to the floor.  You are my rock, my standing place.  And off to the gym.  You got there first and I sense your presence as I pray, “Come, Lord Jesus,” while pedalling furiously to get the heart going.  Heart. Yes, give me heart. And bless the next person who gets on this bike with heart for the day.  Now weights.  62kg upward press.  I am choosing this, but your yoke, your burden is light if I choose it.  I am carrying a lot. Thanks for the reminder that I do not need to lift it alone. I see those two guys are helping each other with the weights.  Co-operation. They may know you too.  There is something light and wholesome about them.  Let them know the empowering weight of your hand on them today.

Shower.  Cleanse me, Lord.  Scrub me down. Exfoliate the dead stuff off me. Freshen me up. Yes, I am baptised!  I have identity in your streams of living water that make all things new.  And I’m feeling good with all the endorphins the exercise releases.  But you are more than feel-good factors.  You are my very life. My happiness lies in you alone, the Psalmist reminds me. Countless millions have found the same thing over three millennia. I do indeed have a goodly heritage that both holds me and asks for my faithfulness (Ps 16).  And thinking of the masses, what shall I wear?  Clothe me with your righteousness.  Dress me with your presence so my presence in the day bears witness to you. I choose to be sharp for you.

Into the traffic.  I wonder where all these people are going and what they are doing.  You know. You are sovereign over all.  Direct all the choices that these people will make for the good of the community.  Especially him!  Doesn’t he know that the speed limit is 50?  Not 45!  We’re running late.  Stupid old… Shouldn’t be allowed to drive!  Oh dear…  Sorry.  I guess I keep people waiting too.  And what’s a couple of minutes when the billboard tells me I have all eternity to be dead.  I’m not planning to see you too soon.

The music is a bit loud. Life FM.  Live it Loud! Sure. As soon as I drop her off at Girl’s High, I’ll see what’s on the Concert Programme.  Old people’s music, my son tells me.  Ageism!  No.  May he grow to value his heritage. And here is your Spirit pervading us more than radio waves.  “Where can I go from your Spirit?”  Nowhere, obviously.  But how well tuned am I?  Am I actually listening, or are you just another background noise.

And home to morning prayer.  Hello again. You beat me.  You go ahead and prepare a place for us, I recall (Jn 14).  Please go ahead and wait for me in next week’s rather heavy responsibilities.  And right now, to be honest, I don’t have the energy to ‘pray’.  You know it all anyway.  I will just sit with you for a while and be open to “the fullness of joy in your presence” (Ps 16).

Five people to see today.  A ministry of presence; a ministry of listening with suspended judgement; a ministry of deep listening to you and the person you put before me. “God be in my head and in my understanding,” and may my welcome signal your hospitality.  She laughs with delight.  His tears surprise me.  Clarity, waffle, focus, depth, wonder and chat.  It’s all here. And here you are at work again showing me that your grace is greater than my tiredness.  I marvel several times at what you are doing.  We struggle constantly to find meaning, significance and belonging and find that our lives are mysteries over which we have no ultimate control.  So reassuring to remember that you “are acquainted with all my ways” and you will “lead me in the way everlasting” (Ps 139).  Another good reason to attend to you on the run.

The day moves inexorably on.  And it is still sunny.  Nice job thanks.  I love the mellowness, the colour, and the unexpected warmth of your autumn.  I guess I am in life’s autumn afternoon with hair falling (but not as fast as leaves!).  Jesus tells me you know how much there is left (Matt 10).  Not too excited about the colour change though.  “Wear it as a badge of achievement” says Kevin my hairdresser.  That’s a good spin.  Which raises the question of who is informing my narratives.  Who is the editor or the critic?  The Spirit within is praying with sighs too deep for words says Paul (Rom 8).  Well, Holy Spirit, why don’t you up the volume a bit and help me hear what God is saying to me about me?

Dinner.  What shall we eat?  Our ancestors may have ploughed the fields and scattered, harvested and stored.  I go to Countdown.  “Give us today our daily.”  And it all has a price, which implies an income and financial management.  You are indeed the provider.  I want to be smart with your provision.  And as I walk through the grocery store, I wonder who the people are behind everything on the shelves.  So many lives, so many stories.  And you so loved the world that you came and ate with us to remind us that bread alone is not enough.

And around a dinner of Thai chicken green curry, we live it loud again.  Extraverted or introverted preferences on the MBTI don’t count here.  It’s all out there competing for space.  I sense your laughter in it all.  This is life.  It is a now event.  This moment is every bit as important as the ‘serious’ stuff.  “Do you like the chicken, Lord?”

And off to choir.  “Come into his presence with singing” (Ps 100).  Yes, I will sing to you in company with a parade of mothers and fathers who have sung you well.  There are words that push past our reasons, melodies that move us into deeper waters, cadences that locate us in faith’s home, and tunes that can move us beyond the need to fix and solve things, that move our futures from despair to hope.  Well, I prayed something to that effect in church last Sunday night and I am still with it.  I’m listening, to join your song, the song that the birds and the insects know, the mountains and streams know, and the stars and the planets know.

Day ends, never to be repeated.  Thank you. You are the faithful one.  I commit all of its words and actions and reflection to you.  Tomorrow will be another day on the run.  “Save us, Lord, while we are awake; protect us while we sleep; that we may keep watch with Christ in the midst of it all, and rest with him in peace.”

The Lord grant us a quiet night and a perfect end  -  not to mention a robust and engaging experience of life on the run with you tomorrow.  Amen.

MEDITATION IN TIMES OF TRANSITION by Andrew Pritchard

When I write an article I usually allow the topic to percolate (I’m a ‘real’ coffee drinker!) for several weeks before putting fingers to keyboard. I am sure that this is based on the sound foundation of experience and self-knowledge that knows that there are wells of inner knowledge to be tapped but that will only yield to contemplative space. I am equally sure that, despite having a strong J preference (planned, organised) I often work best when a deadline looms or is just passing!

Now, the troubling thing is that having followed my normal practice for both of the above reasons, the word that sits like a big stone blocking the mouth of the well is the word DON’T! … and somehow I know that I must write about that first if anything else is to flow.

So, what is it about the theme “Meditation in Times of Transition” that causes the word DON’T to resonate so loudly for me? What is the message? What is the word DON’T saying? Clearly it is not saying literally “don’t meditate when you are in times of transition.” Rather what it is saying is that the time of transition is not a good time to begin to meditate or to learn to meditate or to turn to meditation as a way out.  It is saying that the practice of meditation, to be fruitful, especially in times of transition, is best when it is a practice grounded in the routines of life, learned in times when we don’t “need” it, comfortable, familiar, a home base that we know instinctively and well. A base that evokes memories of presence, insight, revelation, of experiencing God’s love, comfort, challenge, affirmation and correction.

There is a wonderful story told in Brennan Manning’s book, Abba’s Child. It is about a free-spirited Jewish boy named Mordecai whose parents are concerned that his free-spirit should be balanced by self-discipline. The story closes with

“Mordecai himself grew up to become a great man. People who were seized with panic came to him and found peace. People who were without anybody came to him and found communion. People with no exits came to him and found a way out. And when they came to him he said, “I first learned the Word of God when the Great Rabbi held me silently against his heart.”” (Emphasis mine.)

Here it is! In the practice of meditation and other forms of contemplative prayer we experience being held silently against the Great Rabbi’s heart. Out of this lived experience will flow the fruits that we and others are needing in times of transition: peace to replace panic, communion to replace loss and aloneness, a way out where there is no exit. But the being held silently against the Great Rabbi’s heart is an experience to cultivate for the whole of life, not a panacea to be grasped for in the midst of turmoil and transition.

Two examples of transition from my own life experience may help us to explore the topic more deeply.

The first ambushed me in my early 30’s, when I was fully enchanted by the rush of young adult, male achievement. I was a husband and father of a primary schooler, a toddler and a baby. I was on a rapid rise professionally, lecturing in Telecommunications and Computers, Head of School in a large Technical Institute with a staff of over 30, all older than me, seconded to another Government Department on a national project for 2 days a week. Our church had a shared leadership, 6 of us, all working in other jobs, sharing leadership, preaching and pastoral roles in our ‘spare’ time. You can guess the rest! …. Burnout and dark depression. These were things I had only read about, been aware of vaguely at safe arm’s length in others, but never remotely experienced. Now here I was in the midst of them.

This was certainly transition! One week in church, leading, preaching, praying with people, the next struggling unsuccessfully to hold back tears, wanting to look at and be looked at by nobody. Hearing and seeing little but the darkness inside. Going from leader to ‘cot-case’, pray-er for others to medicated by anti-depressants and in a charismatic church at that! I must say that the other leaders were wonderful, none more so than my friend and mentor, Tom Marshall. I still remember the huge relief when he returned from overseas and came straight around. The relief that he knew and was there was enormous. He didn’t say much, really only that he knew that the tunnel was black, with no light right now, but that the light would come and that I would emerge from it in time. The faithful, unconditional love and support of my wife Lynn and other close friends were key to me through this time of transition.

But what of meditation? In this transition, on my part, there was none, or at least very little. For a start in the depths of depression I could barely think, let alone meditate. Emotionally there was nothing there. While at a very deep core, the ‘knowing’ that God cared, loved and was at work never deserted me, there was mostly no motivation or energy to read or to pray. Furthermore, at this stage of my spiritual journey, I had hardly encountered contemplative spirituality and the resources I was used to for nurturing spiritual growth were largely limited to bible (and other) reading, intercessory and petitionery prayer and participation in church. So meditation in any common usage of that word was both foreign to me and would have been beyond my reach at that time. What did help was rest, ‘doing’ nothing but ‘being’ dependent on God, and walking in the beauty of creation. Looking back, from the vantage point of twenty plus years, I see of course that all of these have meditative and contemplative roots! The other major element was that when I could not pray the family and faith community prayed on my behalf.

A second more recent transition also ambushed me, but, in relation to prayer and meditation, was very different. Some seven years ago, in the midst of considerable work responsibilities and stresses I was concerned that my energy levels were so low that I may be approaching burnout again. A visit to my GP showed abnormal blood tests, which some 12-18 months later had me in surgery for bowel cancer. (This turned out to have originated as cancer of the appendix, so rare that I am written up in a medical journal!) Now I was in hospital as a patient for the first time since I had my tonsils out as a child. Trusting my body and all its functions to surgeon and nurses. This too was major, unchosen transition. But radically different to the earlier one.

The intervening years had seen meditation and contemplation become a vital part of my spiritual disciplines. They were familiar practices that had become a natural part of me. So, for example, as awareness returned when I surfaced from the anaesthetic I was praying the Jesus Prayer, or perhaps it was praying itself in me! The Jesus Prayer was to be the main intentional vehicle of prayer and meditation for me over many of the following weeks.

At this stage I had neither energy, concentration nor stamina for reading. Annie Dillard’s “Tinker at Pilgrim Creek”, which had given delight and insight and been a source of rich dialogue with God a day or two earlier, was as inspiring as a foreign language dictionary now. But the Jesus Prayer was like breathing – natural, refreshing, life-giving, instinctive. In the depths of pain and desertion the day after the operation when the epidural didn’t work properly and my mind was still floating in anaesthetic the Jesus Prayer was my real connection with God and in it I knew I was not alone.

In the somewhat better days that followed, when the pain was more controlled but most of my systems were obstinately refusing to function, I became my own case study. I experimented with altered states of consciousness (I was on an epidural not morphine so I’m not talking drug induced!) where I shut down most of my awareness of what was happening around me and could largely block out the pain that leaked through from the still only partially successful epidural. At the same time I engaged in interior dialogue with God that was rich and, when I was well enough to reflect and journal a month or so later, contained significant insights.

Music was another helpful, and growthful vehicle for meditation. The beautiful and sensitive singing and guitar playing of friends who visited was healing and bathed me in peace. The inspiring music that I listened to and communicated deeply with God through was not Christian music. That was too familiar and had too many associations, that for me, were unhelpful. The music that helped my psyche and spirit to soar when my body would barely move was Simon and Garfunkel, particularly material performed on tour in Africa! The beauty of the music, and the fresh and prophetic depth of the lyrics, evoked in me a response of praise and gratitude to God and was the catalyst for significant times of meditation and dialogue with God.

So, meditation in times of transition, what are the major lessons based on this statistical survey of one!

In transition our resources and creativity are limited.

•    Only what we are familiar with and know intimately may be accessible to us. So disciplines we have used and grown into faithfully during the routine, less remarkable  times, will be important.

•    Sometimes we may not even be able to draw on or find nourishment in these. Then the spiritual life of our community of faith may be vital. If this is so then the current trend, where  many people feel less nurtured by and connected to ‘church’ and withdraw to a more individual faith journey, needs the balance of new forms of living connection with other pilgrims, faith community.

•    Externally structured disciplines, praying the Daily Office for example, or using a Bible reading notes may be helpful.

In transition we may feel as if we have lost our faith.

•    The transitions I have described were life events which certainly challenged my faith, but they were not initially faith transitions. Some transitions are primarily changes in our faith. Our ways of understanding and relating to God no longer make sense, don’t work, no longer bring peace and fulfilment but agitation and anxiety. No wonder we feel as if we are losing our faith – in a real sense we are. The old familiar ways of relating to God are slipping away and we have no stability and comfort in what will emerge to replace them. In these times trust is important, our activity, even in meditation less so. For the time being we may have lost God, but God has not lost us. The image I have in these times is of “being in the place where God can find me”. Rather than choosing to hide from God as Adam did in the creation account, I choose to put myself in places where God can find me, continuing spiritual disciplines – prayer, meditation, scripture reading, meeting with others – even when a mausoleum has more life in it!

God is found in transition and in stability. May the disciplines of prayer and meditation that we follow in times of stability form us well for times of when we may not be able to meditate.

MEDITATING ON LIFE
Lectio Divina in daily life by Faye Johnson rsm

Cardinal Newman once stated that a life not reflected upon was a life wasted.

To assist in the task of reflecting on life events, the four-step process of lectio divina can be very helpful.  Lectio divina, or sacred reading, has its roots in Judaism and evolved into its classic Christian form in monasticism.  Today, it is practised widely by people from many different spiritual backgrounds who share a desire to discover the presence of the divine in their lives.

The first step in the process is Paying Attention.  If we examine our lives as a sacred text, we will view them differently, perhaps with a new freshness, with increased faith, hope and appreciation of the divine life moving within us.  Such may have been the experience of Etty Hillesum, the young Jewish woman, who drew strength from a patch of blue and could write:

 “I know not what may lie in wait for us….

Yet I find life beautiful and meaningful.”

The second step in the process of sacred reading is Pondering.  As we ponder on the events of our lives many paths of reflection are opened to us.  Our memory may be stirred and throw light on current events.  Our imagination may be awakened and we may gain insights about our lives and resolve upon steps needed for change, for growth or for action.  We may just want to ponder and follow the impulses we sense within us and stay with the process as faithfully as we can.  We may just want to carry them around with us for stretches at a time without any specific response.

In the third step of this process, we offer a Response to the One whose voice we have heard.  Our response comes spontaneously and it will depend on what we have heard.  We may be joyful or sad, angry or enthused.  Our aim in this movement is not a particular type of response;  it is to recognize our heart’s desire in response to the “word” and to express it in a personal way. 

In the traditional method of sacred reading, this step was called prayer, expressing perhaps praise or gratitude, seeking help, or asking forgiveness.  If we encounter the divine presence in ourselves, we may wish to respond to that presence in our own words.  We may find that the best way to respond is not verbally but physically – in art or dance, by playing music or going for a run.  Whatever form the response takes, it is not so much a matter of seeking a final resolution as a way of summing up the inner movement of our spirit and carrying it forward.

The traditional name for the fourth step is contemplation.  Contemplation begins where all our efforts at meditation and prayer end and we find ourselves caught up in the movement and presence of God.  Such an experience is a gift, not something we can cause or accomplish.  We can engage in spiritual practices that open us to such experiences, but we cannot create them.  All we can do, as the mystics say, is dry the wood and stack it carefully so that when the match is laid, it catches fire.

This step is called Surrendering.  We may find a word or a phrase which serves as a mantra that can carry us through the day or the week and help us to cultivate a contemplative awareness and in doing so enable us to surrender our hearts to the One who has called us.¹

¹ Robert M. Hamma, Earth’s Echo, (Sorin Books), Notre Dame, IN. 2002, p.26

LEARNING TO MEDITATE by John Main

To learn to meditate we have to learn to be humble… What does it mean to be humble? It means to begin to acknowledge that there is a reality outside ourselves, that is greater than ourselves and that contains us.  Humility is simply learning to find your place within the greater reality and…learn to live in our place.  The first thing to understand is that you are your own place.  To come to terms with all reality, we must first come to terms with our own reality.  It is in the stillness of meditation, the stillness of body and spirit which reveals the unity of body and spirit, that we enter the experience of knowing really that we are.  We come to know this with absolute clarity and absolute certainty.  Only then are we ready to go to the next step which is to go beyond ourselves, to rise beyond ourselves.  The tragedy of the egoist is that the egoist does not know his or her place.  The egoist thinks that he is at the centre of everything and sees everything…only in relation to himself.

Meditation and the constant return to it, every day of your life, is like cutting a pathway through to reality.  Once we know our place, we begin to see everything in a new light because we have become who we really are.  And becoming who we are, we can now see everything as it is and so begin to see everyone else as they are.  The truest wonder of meditation is that we even begin to see God as God is.  Meditation is therefore a way to stability.  We learn through the practice and from the experience how to be rooted in our essential being. We learn that to be rooted in our essential being is to be rooted in God, the author and principle of all reality.  And it is no small thing to enter reality, to become real, to become who we are, because in that experience we are freed from all the images that so constantly plague us.  We do not have to be anyone’s image of ourselves, but simply the real person we are.

Meditation is practiced in solitude but it is the great way to learn to be in relationship.  The reason for this paradox is that, having contacted our own reality, we have existential confidence to go out to meet others, to meet them at their real level.  And so the solitary element in meditation is mysteriously the true antidote to loneliness.  Having contacted our conformity with reality, we are no longer threatened by the otherness of others.  We are not always looking for affirmation of ourselves.  We are making love’s search, looking for the reality of the other …

Meditation is demanding. We must learn to meditate whether we feel like it or not, whether it is raining or snowing, or the sun in shining or whatever is on television or whatever kind of day we have had.  In the Christian vision of meditation…we find the reality of the great paradox Jesus teaches: If we want to find our lives we have to be prepared to lose them.  In meditating, that is exactly what we do.  We find ourselves because we are prepared to let go of ourselves, to launch ourselves into the depths …which soon appear to be the depths of God.

John Main. The Heart of Creation. Continuum. pp9-10

 
MEDITATIVE COMMUNION
Eucharist worship space by John Hebenton

About 20 years ago I was invited to my first silent communion service. It was a straight forward Anglican liturgy, yet it was profound. We each had a service sheet with the words on it, including the bible readings, and the movement from one part of the liturgy to the next was marked by the ring of a bell. I had never been to anything like it.

At a retreat at Muriwai beach 2 years ago I redid the service sheet so that it had a lot more actions, rather than mostly sitting and reading the words. I thought it went really well, but one of the retreatants asked some helpful yet disturbing questions. Why was it so long? Why did everyone have to move at the same pace? Could it be more flexible.?

I spent a few months wondering how to answer her. The result was a Eucharistic (Communion) Worship Space. With some fear and trembling I tried it out last year. I wondered if it would be Anglican enough? (it was for a group who were training for  Anglican  ministry) Would people get into it? Would they find it helpful? I was amazed at the depth of the experience for myself, and the feedback I received then and when I ran it again in another setting.

So what is a Eucharistic Worship Space and how does it work?

It is offered as a space to be with God both corporately, and as individuals.  It is also offered as an experimental space, both in the style of worship offered, and for those taking part to experiment with different ways of worshipping than normal.

Seven stations are offered in which to meet Christ. They are:

1.   A space to “be” with God in contemplation.

2.   A space for confession. Tissue paper is offered on which to write with a felt pen those things that separate us from God, from others, from ourselves. The tissue is placed in a bowl of water. As the writing dissolves those participating are invited to find an action to acknowledge the forgiveness that God freely offers.

3.   A space to “hear” the word of God, and to respond to that word. A sheet with  four choices of “praying scripture” is made available, Participants are invited to choose one, and to be bold in that choice.

4.   A space to intercede.  A slide projector and slides are offered as a visual aid to evoke concerns, passions, compassions for this world in which we live, and those who live within it.

5.   A space to receive the bread and wine from Christ himself, As the participants eat and drink, they are invited to use all their senses to experience the fullness, (texture,  taste, feel, smell) not only of the bread and wine, but of all God offers.

6.   A space to give expression or respond to the worship experience through art and writing.

7.   A space of blessing as you take this experience of God, and live Christ in the world beyond.  As they leave, participants are invited to cross themselves with water, both as a symbol of their reacceptance of their baptismal call to be Christ’s love in the world, and that God both blesses them and journeys with them in that call.

Each person attending is given a sheet of instructions. We usually gather outside the worship space and enter together. They are welcomed, given some brief instructions. The welcome includes an abbreviated prayer of great thanksgiving, so that it is as far as possible a “real” Communion service. Then those attending are free to go where they wish. They do not need to visit all of the stations, but only those that seem right. Nor do they need to visit these stations in any particular order. They are invited to spend as long as they like at each station, and in the worship space itself.

I have been fascinated to see people beginning at every station (but the last). One persons stayed for half an hour. Others have stayed for over an hour and a half. What has intrigued me most is the real sense of being in this space with this community of people. While on my own journey, I know that these others journey with me, and that we are in this together. I think this real sense of community is one of the reasons why there is such a deep sense of God’s presence. I look forward to the next time I can offer this space, both for myself, and for those who will worship with me.

 
SYMBOLS AS A WAY OF FOCUSING
Creating an atmosphere for meditating by Shirley Fergusson

“Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”  Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. (1Kings 19)

The contemplative tradition encourages awareness and possibility of encounter with the mystery that we name “God”.   Encounter is a gift of God – but, like Elijah, we can enhance the opportunity for experiences of wonder, awe and reverence which leave us feeling that what we have experienced is a deep sense of the reality of God.

Elijah seeks the symbolic place where God has been made known to Moses – he discovers there an atmosphere in which God’s presence may more easily be experienced, but God is not in these wonders of nature, but through and beyond them in the stillness, in the silence. 

The use of symbols in our devotional life can help to create an atmosphere which can enhance an attentive awareness, an interior stillness, in which we become open to the mystery of God.  Creating an atmosphere in which we can become still and centred by using an object, words, sound, scent, touch, activity and/or mental images as a base to centre our attention in the present, allows us to free our minds and wandering attention, to become still and empty before God, ready to become aware of the whisper of the Holy Spirit in the silence.  

The use of symbols as a base to bring our attention back from all the past and future experiences usually going on our minds concentrates and calms and deepens our attention so that we may experience God in and through the present moment and more fully experience the fleeting eternal “now”.   Symbols give us something for our wandering minds to return to.   They are a stepping-off place for the freedom and openness that may enable us to be aware of God, the reality beyond all images and objects.  To become aware in that open simple present of God the Creator, the life-giving Spirit at work within us, enabling us and urging us to allow ourselves to grow.  We become more open, more discerning of God’s Spirit, more in touch with our own inner depths, the centre of our awareness, or our “beingness”. 

The word “symbol” derives from the Greek sum-ballein – to throw together.  It was used in ancient times as a means of identification.  One common way to make a sum-ballo was to take a piece of pottery and break it – if the two pieces match the person is who they say they are.   The piece of broken pottery is not me, yet it identifies me.  There is in symbols a power and depth which enables them not so much to represent reality as to disclose it by making it present.  A symbol points to a reality while uniting us with it, bringing us and it together, relating us.   

A word of caution though.   It is important to choose a symbol that will allow your mind to become focussed and then still.    A snapshot of an enjoyable holiday, or the painting your tutor has just been critiquing at art class will only invite your mind to begin remembering, or analysing – this kind of symbol will simply become a distraction.

Noticing an object which demands our attention, which “speaks” to us of God, which draws us into the “eternal now” is what is helpful.    Almost any object – a flower, a weed, cloud formation, a pebble or shell off the beach, a leaf, a candle, water, a picture – provided it does not have the kind of associations that will be distracting – can serve to focus the attention until our awareness is free and we are open to the “still, small voice within”.    My Journal contains a number of photographs – a chair in the bush, a beautiful sunset – occasions on which I have been able to “lose myself” and become centred, open to the reality of God in the present.  These can re-create for me at atmosphere in which I can move from the symbol to a fuller awareness of the present and to God’s Spirit, but they are always just a base to come back to – a stepping off place to openness.

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour. 
(Blake, Auguries of Innocence)

A BENEDICTINE VIEW OF CONTEMPLATIVE PRAYER by Ross Miller

The Benedictine monastery of Christ the King in North London has a meditation centre to which anyone may come, and in the entrance hall are these words from Mother Julian of Norwich:  Utterly at home, He dwells in us for ever.  This is precisely where the Benedictine understanding of contemplative prayer starts.

The first word in the 6^th century Rule of St Benedict is “Listen…” 

Listen carefully…and attend…with the ear of your heart.¹  

Monks should diligently cultivate silence at all times.² 

Nothing in Benedictine spirituality is more important.  Not only monks and nuns, but oblates around the world, all who follow this contemplative path, are taught by Benedict that both prayer and work start and end in silence and attention.

In silence and stillness we listen to ourselves, to what life is making of our breathing and metabolism, aches and pains, memories, relationships, here in this place and here at this moment.  We listen to the world and to other people, their threats and their menace, the love and goodness we know of.  And we listen to God, God’s word in scripture and wherever we find it, and the Spirit in our hearts. 

But contemplative prayer is not discursive prayer.  We are not going through any mental agenda, however worthy.  Rather, we develop the skills of being fully present to ourselves, to the world and to God, in the present moment, with “the ear of the heart” open.

And since this seems huge, we may simplify it as much as we can by attending in prayer to one word or phrase, our “mantra”.  We say it “interiorly” from the start to the finish of our time of silence, gently returning to it every time we realise we have become distracted by “thinking about” things, planning, daydreaming and so on.  The mantra starts to resonate through the rest of life, the times when we are not, cannot be silent – and it produces, as it were, a context of silence and stillness in which we seek to do everything. 

Joan Chittister writes:

Prayer in Benedictine spirituality is not an interruption of our busy lives, nor is it a higher act.  Prayer is the filter through which we learn, if we listen hard enough, to see our world aright and anew, and without which we live life with souls that are deaf and dumb and blind.³

At a recent contemplative school, time was taken for a brief ceremony to admit a couple of us as Benedictine Oblates.  Others present who practise Christian Meditation were intrigued by this direct reference to the Benedictine Order, and one man found and thumbed through a copy of the Rule of St Benedict.  He came to me later and said, “There’s not a word about prayer in it!”  Well no – except that the entire thing is about prayer. 

The Rule sets out a way of living together in peace, love and order, and this way depends entirely upon contemplative silence and stillness.  Much of the Rule is indeed about the ordering of worship, the Daily Office, about humility, about care of the tools and goods of the monastery, about dealing with faults, about food, and so on.  Benedict calls it a little rule for beginners;  he says there is to be nothing harsh, nothing burdensome – and he lays it down that by far the worst offence in the monastery is grumbling (Latin: urmuration).  Benedict sees grumbling as the opposite of both fellowship and devotion to God – an insight which may have some relevance in parish life!.  But over all, at all times, is the discipline of silence, until silence, stillness, listening become not only a requirement of the community but also a continuing personal interiority. 

This is well exemplified in the ancient contemplative discipline of Lectio Divina.  Lectio is a way of daily attention to the bible, but also to other suitable spiritual writings,⁴ in which we lay aside for the moment the need to “study”, sift, evaluate, compare, refine understanding, decide whether we agree or not.  This discipline, when I first encountered it, was hard; I have been raised and trained in a scholarly approach to the biblical material and languages, and found it a very curious thing indeed to be simply present to these writings, available to “receive” them, as we used to say in Presbyterianism, simpliciter, and thus to encounter the voice of God – not as a general message, or something for others, and certainly not to be mentally filed away for use later in some sermon or teaching, but for me, now.  Note pads and highlighters are really out of place in Lectio.

The Psalms, for instance, have leapt to new life.  Even the “difficult” imprecatory Psalms, and the ones in which there seems to be a bland assumption that if I am righteous all will go well, have mysteriously come back for me as a gift of grace.  Often they seem stunningly apposite to the deep realities of the present moment.  The discipline of Lectio teaches that, in reading, we pause when we encounter a word of God in the present moment, making sure we are receiving that – and we may in fact read nothing else that day, but live with what God is saying now, existentially. 

My point however is that Lectio is an integral part of contemplative prayer and life, in Benedictine understanding.  It requires the same stillness and silence, attention, and openness to conversatio mori, daily conversion.  In Benedictine practice there is rarely if ever prayer without Lectio.  Neither should be seen as any sort of intellectual discipline or agenda.

Soon after I moved in to stay in a Benedictine monastery in Montreal for a few weeks, some years ago, they assigned me to daily kitchen duties.  This was something I knew all about, as an experienced house husband.  After the morning “offices” I would make my way down to the kitchen and get ahead on the vegetables for the main midday meal, including the confounded swede turnips they seemed to get cheap in vast quantities from the city market.⁵  But one morning one of the monks whispered to me that it was inappropriate to be wandering around and working while all the monks were doing their Lectio.  Turnips came after Lectio.  So they should, of course, and so I stopped pretending to be Brother Lawrence.

In this gentle but rigorous discipline of simplicity, silence and stillness we find ourselves coming to some very serious insights and lessons.  For instance, as another writer, Esther de Waal, points out: 

I (may) have to recognise that the tensions I find within myself may not be resolved after all, and that perhaps I have to learn to live with the contradictions and try to see that at their heart lies the mystery of God…⁶

This allows me, she adds,

to live with the muddle, the untidiness, the incomprehension. I no longer expect there to be some neat pattern in things, a wonderfully fulfilling coming together… In the end there is only mercy, the most perfect expression of God’s love. I hold on to the promise of the Rule, “Never to despair of God’s mercy” ⁷.

It is not a path to Nirvana.  It has much more to do with the kind of spirituality we find in St Paul, for instance, in II Corinthians 12: 7ff. 

John Main, one of the luminous teachers of the contemplative path in our day, was a Benedictine monk.  So is the current leader of the World Community for Christian Meditation, Fr Laurence Freeman.  Through such teachers there is growing up a “monastery without walls”, in many countries, in which thousands of people are learning the practices of contemplative prayer and life, and some come to offer themselves as Benedictine Oblates.⁸

¹  Rule of St Benedict, Prologue, 1.

2  42:1

3  Chittister: Wisdom Distilled From The Daily – Living The Rule Of St Benedict Today [HarperSanFrancisco, 1991], p.17.

4  Benedictines traditionally confine Lectio to the bible and to the writings of the “apostolic fathers”, although I think there is a rather more liberal interpretation of that these days.

5  In a monastery the occasional combined odour of incense and boiling swedes can put a presbyterian right off high festivals, and even heighten the use of the imprecatory Psalms.

⁶  Esther de Waal: Living With Contradiction – An Introduction to Benedictine Spirituality (Morehouse 1997), p.136.

7  op.cit. p.136-137. 

8  The WCCM website is http://www.wccm.org.  The Australian WCCM website is http://www.christianmeditationaustralia.org. 

 
ART AND THE RELIGIOUS ENCOUNTER
A theoretical teaser by Matthew Jack

If you are sitting in front of an artwork, feeling that, somehow, it has enhanced or facilitated your experience of God, then you are experiencing what millions of Christian people before you have felt.  You are also on the edge of some very complicated tensions.  From the earliest times of our faith, people have felt that God has been warning them away from idolatry, and the making of religious images.  Particularly within the Protestant tradition, there has been a great reluctance to give sanctuary space, or devotional space, to artworks.  Nevertheless, people have filled their churches with stained glass images, beautiful music, poetic liturgies, and the ubiquitous flower arrangements.  Even though we obediently believe that artworks can be a distraction to our worship, we can’t stop ourselves bringing artworks into our devotional life.  (It is worth noticing that even the Dutch Calvinist Church, which shares its founder’s extreme suspicion of art, allows decorations to be painted on its organ shutters, pointed windows to be installed in its church buildings, and various other embellishments to be made to liturgical spaces.  It is interesting to note, further, that when Calvinist reforms were instituted in Holland, and religious artworks were outlawed in public sanctuaries, there was an explosion in the commissioning of religious pictorial art for private homes.)  Human beings, even when committed in intellectual principle to the rejection of art within religious life, seemed deeply attracted to appreciating artworks, and reluctant to let such appreciation go.  When Jeremy Begbie noted that religion and the arts had had a “persistent relationship”, he was saying nothing beyond what many people easily observed over the years.

Recently I have given some thought to this persistent partnership.  Assuming both that God exists, and also that the purpose of our various religious and devotional traditions is to bring us into an awareness of the presence of God (that is, to have a “religious experience”), I have been asking after what role an artwork might play within our coming to apprehend God.  It seems to me that if we are trying to work out what the artwork might do within our becoming aware of God, we will need to work out what we think is actually happening to us as we become aware of the presence of God (that is, as we have our experience of God).

Aquinas, of course, said that we don’t so much experience God, as much as we experience God’s work, and extrapolate, by reason, that there must be one who is behind the work.  If this model were right, then art’s role would seem to be to present us with God’s work (creation and redemption), or to enhance our tools of reason, such that we might be inclined to extrapolate from the beauty of the work to the work’s creator, and again to the supreme Creator.  (This doesn’t provide much of a role for art, though, since the best expression of God’s own creativity would surely be creation itself, rather than its rendering by anyone else.  Any artwork would be derivative and distracting from God’s original work.  We’d be better to go for a walk in the bush.)  Calvin said that experience of God was something that came to us, not by way of the regular five senses, but by way of an almost completely ruined, special sixth-sense – the sensus divinitatis.  (Given, however, that artworks deal in five-sense-qualia, there is no clear role, under this theory, for artworks to play in religious experience – which might explain why Calvinist churches are, in general terms, anti-art.)  A promising recent theory of religious experience, which values the role of the artwork, is that of American philosopher William Alston.  Alston maintained that experience of God was essentially a perceptual event.  We just saw God, and interpreted what we saw by drawing on beliefs we already held about God and the experience of God.  In like ways, we just saw (or heard or touched) artworks, and interpreted them by drawing on various beliefs we already held about the sorts of things presented in the artworks.  Art and religion were both about the presentation and interpretation of things.  If God was presented in an artwork, then that artwork had facilitated our apprehension of God.

Serious art-philosophical problems descended on Alston though.  If art was about the presentation of God, then you should be able to explain where God was in any particular artwork.  You should also be able to declare non-representational artworks as being of no spiritual use.  Clearly, though, abstract artworks and various other non-representational works are of devotional use.  The devotional usefulness of the artwork cannot, therefore, singly lie in its power to represent God, or to conv