Living the Lord’s Prayer: The Way of the Disciple
by Albert Haase, O.F.M., 2009
252 pages
Read 5-2012, re-read and reviewed, 5-2013
Father Albert, together with Jessie Vicha (who is a Presbyterian), teaches a spiritual direction training class at the Chiara Center in Springfield, Illinois. Margaret and I are members of the current class.
Thoughts from a parish mission given by Albert Haase, 2-2013:
Traveling to Urbana, Illinois from his friary in St. Francis Village near Crowley, Texas, Father Albert Haase preached the St. Patrick’s Catholic Church parish mission in February to a fuller church every night.
Since the third century, Christians have made the sign of the cross to remind themselves of the closeness of God. Father Albert preached forty-five minutes each night on the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. As he said, our image of God colors everything we think and everything we do.
As God is our Father, then we are all family. “To ignore God in our neighbor is blasphemy.” With God as our father, “no one is left behind in the ditch. My soul is at peace in the night.”
As God is Son, Jesus came to earth as the “divine reminder” of God’s dream for the world. Jesus calls out to us, “Do you think you could come to trust me enough to love me? Do you think you could come to love me enough to give me your heart?”
On Wednesday Father Albert took the congregation back to catechism class for “six minutes” and redefined Isaiah’s seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (Isaiah 11:2-3). Of the most misunderstood gift, the fear of the Lord, Father Albert said, “This is not dread, it’s fascination.” With wonder and awe, we are fascinated at God’s manifestation in our lives, from watching microbes under a microscope, to putting our finger into a Venus flytrap, to gazing at the fingernails of a three-week-old baby.
These gifts of the Spirit are our “vitamin pills, our booster shot.” With them we have “everything we need to carry the dream everywhere we go.” Christian literally means “little Christ.” As little Christs, we are all, like Jesus, dream-keepers. We keep alive what God has always dreamed for the world he created: his mercy, his justice, his love in all things and all ways.
Father Albert is the author of several books, including Living the Lord’s Prayer and Coming Home to Your True Self. He has translated and paraphrased St. Athanasius’ Life of Antony of Egypt. His newest book on spiritual formation, Catching Fire, Becoming Flame, was published, complete with DVD by Paraclete Press in April 2013.
You can hear more of Father Albert, with all his Cajun-accented energy and infectious laughter, as he co-hosts a weekly radio show, “Spirit & Life,” with Sister Bridget Haase. You can listen to or download the show at the Relevant Radio website: http://www.relevantradio.com/
6-1-2013
What follow are quotations from Living the Lord’s Prayer, sometimes drawn together over a few paragraphs or pages. The book consists of a foreword by Gerald Sittser, preface, eleven chapters, conclusion and notes.
Enjoy …
Foreword (Sittser):
There are three reasons why I think this book is compelling. First, Father Albert challenges us to live what we pray. Second, he has read the classics, which is abundantly clear throughout the book. Third, the book is well-written. Father Albert knows how to turn a good phrase. – p. 10
Preface
I consider the Lord’s Prayer to be a trustworthy guide for spiritual formation and a compact handbook for holiness. – p. 14
The prayer offers both interesting insights and practical tips for growing more deeply in our baptismal commitment to become Christian, which literally means “little Christ.” – p. 14
I have chosen not to reflect on the concluding doxology, since it did not come from the mouth of Jesus and was a later scribal addition. – p. 14
Chapter 1. God as Father: Shaping a Healthy Image of God
We do not know exactly when it happened to Jesus. As a child? In adolescence? As a young adult? Sometime during his life, he began to call God by the same name he called Joseph, “Abba!” – p. 17
Jesus was not first to call God Father. But his “nuance of intimacy” suggested a special understanding and closeness to the God of Israel as a loving sustainer and provider. – p. 18
Jesus’ childlike intimacy with the God of Israel must have confounded and challenged people like the scribes and Pharisees, sometimes burdened with external obedience to the law. – p. 19
From Jesus’ perspective, divine closeness and intimacy overshadowed the divine majesty and transcendence advocated by the Pharisees. – p. 19
Jesus might have agonized over whether or not he had deceived himself in trusting in this intimate experience of God as Abba. He prayed Psalm 22, which betrayed his feeling of being abandoned, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Then he continued from Psalm 22, “In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them.” Finally Jesus moved through these feelings and surrendered with trust: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” – p. 19
Our image of God is one of the most, if not the most, important aspects of our spiritual formation. – p. 20
To name God as Father in the Lord’s Prayer is to commit to having a healthy image of God. That is both a challenge and a grace. Such an image brings out the very best in us and helps us to discover our truest identity. It coaxes us to be transparent, to loving open ourselves to every single moment that calls for self-sacrifice and self-forgetfulness. – p. 21
When I was thirteen, my father committed suicide. That gunshot wound not only killed my father, it also shattered the image of God I had been given early in life. The all-powerful, ever-present God given to me by my grammar-school education not only appeared powerless before my tragedy but also seemed coldly disinterested and far away. One day in my mid-twenties, I cried out in prayer to this God. I demanded an explanation. The response was only silence. Cold indifference … but then something happened. Out of the blue I felt myself surrounded by a loving comfort and a protective care I had never before experienced. On this Thursday afternoon of 1981, my personal God – the Abba of Albert Haase – revealed selfless, unconditional love and compassion for me. That experience has radically changed and shaped my personal image of God. – p. 23-24
My new God-image has been carved out of my wound and based on an experience of God’s love and compassion for me. Over the past twenty-five years it has been touched up, refined and reformed. Our images of God change over time and with experience. We outgrow them like we do our clothes and shoes. Over and over again we learn never to be too comfortable with our images, as if to suggest we have captured God or figured God out. – p. 24-25
This is the startling fact: God loves us not because we are good but because God is good. It’s as simple as that. – p. 26
God’s love is not some return for our hard work. Nor is it payment for services rendered, such as acts of charity. Rather, it is literally like the air we breathe in and exhale. – p. 27
Awareness of such extravagant unconditional love calls forth from us selfless acts of sacrificial love for others. – p. 28
Anselm of Canterbury wrote Cur Deus Homo? (“Why Did God Become Man?”) in the eleventh century. He posited a rational necessity for Christ’s incarnation … to appease God’s justice so that divine mercy couild extend to humanity. Anselm’s theory has shaped so much of Roman Catholic and evangelical theology. The image of God embedded in such a logical argument is a God who insists on justice and satisfaction and yet, at the same time, is willing to provide the very means to have both justice and satisfaction rendered. God’s greatest gift to the universe, the Son, is only occasioned by the sinfulness of humanity. – p. 28
Two centuries after Anselm, the great Franciscan theologian John Duns Scotus offered another idea. The incarnation was not a divine after-thought occasioned by human sin. Rather from the beginning of creation, Jesus as the light of the world was already in the mind of God. “God’s Masterpiece,” as Scotus called in incarnate Person of the Son, was always intended. Without Christ, creation would be incomplete. – p. 29
According to Scotus, Christ is the beginning, middle and end of all creation. This is technically known as the “Doctrine of the Absolute Primacy of Christ in the Universe” and demonstrates that God-made-flesh is first and foremost a demonstration of self-effusive divine love. – p. 29
Because human sinfulness did in fact become a reality, the incarnation took place in the mode of a suffering, crucified and glorified Christ who overcame, as one scholar puts it, “the humanly constructed obstacles to achieving God’s first aim: the sharing of divine life and love with creation.” – p. 29
Anyone’s experience of human love is not somehow “like” the experience of God’s love. It is the love of God, though always incomplete and at times even distorted. Loving hearts are the open floodgates of God’s love. – p. 31
The ancient Hebrews did not balk at using feminine imagery to speak of God. Jesus appreciated this history. In the second century Clement described the eternal Word of god as both a father and a mother. Julian of Norwich in the fourteenth century called God our “natural Father” and our “natural Mother.” Pope John Paul I in 1978 said, “God is our Father. Even more, God is our Mother.” The Abba of Jesus is strong, yet tender; loving and compassionate; indulgent, yet protective – the very best of the masculine and the very best of the feminine. – p. 31-33
Sunday after Sunday we go to church. And there we find as many different images of God as there are people in the congregation … That image is framed by the experiences of the past and shaped by our present situation. – p. 34
Reflection question (one of five): How does my present image of God elicit selfless, sacrificial love for others?
Chapter 2. “Our” Father: Recognizing the Family of All Creation
According to a Zulu expression, a person becomes a person through other people. This belief is enshrined in the concept of Ubuntu, which states that through our interaction with others, we discover what it means to be human. Desmond Tutu says, “My humanity is caught up and inextricably bound up in yours. I am human because I belong.” – p. 36-37
Nelson Mandela continues, “Ubuntu does not mean that people should not enrich themselves. The question therefore is: Are you going to do so in order to enable the community around you to improve?” – p. 37
The first word of the Lord’s Prayer, “Our,” challenges the belief that the Christian life is a quaint little individualistic affair between “me and Jesus.” It also reveals one of the great illuminations in spiritual formation: all creatures, both rational and irrational, are our brothers and sisters. – p. 38
Love of God is expressed in love of neighbor; love of neighbor celebrates the experience of God’s love. They are the two sides of the coin of spiritual formation. – p. 39
The influence of Thomas a Kempis’ 15th century spiritual work, The Imitation of Christ, has been enormous in Catholic and Protestant traditions. More, Ignatius, de Sales, de Ligouri, Therese of Liseaux, John Wesley, John Newton all have testified to its influence. This influence has not all been good: “The greatest saints guarded their time alone and chose to serve God in solitude. As often as I went out among men, I returned less of a man.” This promotes a blatantly dualistic Christianity (God and the world are incompatible). – p. 40-41
But surprisingly, as we mature in our vocation as little Christs, we find ourselves becoming more and more engaged with the world and its struggles. – p. 41
Thomas Merton began his life as a monk who had truly renounced the world. As he matured spiritually he opened the windows of his hermitage and wrote about the scandal of nuclear arms, the Vietnam War and the volatile race relations in the South. – p. 41
Merton prayed with one eye on Scripture and the other on the daily newspaper, “with the world in his bloodstream.” – p. 41
As little Christs, we intercede for the world. Not to change the mind of God, not to do a “rain dance,” but as one of many ways to take a stand against war, to dispel our fear of the so-called “enemy,” actually our brother and sister. Intercessory prayer is an expression of Ubuntu. – p. 42
The absence of the prayer of intercession in our daily devotions is a poignant reminder that we have veered off the way of the disciple. – p. 42
Many people are left, like the man rescued in Jesus’ Good Samaritan parable, behind in the ditch by institutional church, government and society. There is always a group of people marginalized so that so-called Christians consider them “untouchables,” unworthy of Abba’s unconditional love. – p. 43
The Greek verb Jesus uses to describe the mercy of the Good Samaritan is splanchnizein. (It also describes Jesus’ own compassion: Matt 9:36, 15:32, 20:34, Mark 1:41, 6:34; 8:2, Luke 10:33). The verb is derived from the noun for “entrails,” “bowels,” “guts,” as the seat of the emotions. It is occasionally associated with the Hebrew word rechem, “womb.” Compassionate intercession emerges from the place where life begins. – p. 43
Remember your own suffering. It need not be in vain. It can become the womb of compassion. – p. 44
For Jesus, sin originates from the lack of loving relationships or caring involvement in the lives of others, from our unwillingness to perform selfless acts of sacrificial love in response to the love of Abba in our lives, from a loss of Ubuntu. – p. 45-46
On the other hand, in the words of medieval Franciscan Margaret of Cortona, “The way of salvation is easy. It is enough to love.” – p. 47
The essential elements of hospitality are welcome and acceptance. “Don’t forget my friends, we are all family around my table.” – p. 47-48
Francis of Assisi expanded Ubuntu to include not only animate but also inanimate objects. Thus he rediscovered his rightful place amid the family of creation, the original stance of Adam and Eve. But as Adam and Eve looked on the forbidden fruit with desire rather than awe, utility replaced childlike wonder. The mind supplanted the heart. Many descendants of Adam and Eve to this day do not see a tree until they have need of paper. p. 48-49
Some have suggested that the “sixth extinction” (the fifth being when the dinosaurs disappeared sixty-five million years ago) will be caused by human selfishness. Sadly, our oversized, selfish and pragmatic hands have become intruders in the Garden of Eden – the original bull in a china shop. – p. 50
With so much china broken, what are we to do? The great Franciscan theologian St. Bonaventure shows how we can experience creation as a ladder to God. In his short mystical work Itinerarium mentis in Deum (“The Soul’s Journey Into God”), he maps out the journey in six stages, culminating in the seventh stage of ecstatic wisdom and mystical rest. – p. 50
The first two stages deal with the contemplation of God’s vestiges, or “footprints.” Vestiges consist of all created reality. In the first stage, we are led “through” the vestiges to God. Every “footprint” perceived by one of our senses, rather than tying us down here to earth, actually raises us up to God. – p. 51
The second stage challenges us to accept Bonaventure’s thirteenth century theory of sensation: any object perceived by the senses leaves a copy of itself, an “impression,” inside us that evokes feelings and some type of judgment. – p. 51
Bonaventure believes that this process of sensation, impression and judgment replicates in a less-than-perfect way exactly what goes on in the Trinity, and especially the incarnation. The Father and Son behold one another and take the Other in perfectly. This is not a mere impression, as in our human experience, but is, in fact, the total openness of Divinity to Divinity. – p. 51
This second stage reveals God’s essence, power and presence “in” the vestiges, since our senses are lamely doing what the Father and Son constantly and eternally have been doing in a perfect way. – p. 51
Thus our engagement with the world reveals creation to be an epiphany of the power, wisdom and goodness of our Abba. – p. 52
Chapter 3. Who Art in Heaven: Experiencing the Extraordinary in the Ordinary
Our words and images stagger, wobble and stumble before God. Our presumptuous attempts to definitively name or describe God bring us to a dead-end street. When describing Divinity, our language is a straightjacket that confines us to sometimes cruel characterizations rather than accurate expressions. – p. 59
The desire to describe God and the inability of language to do so points to two main currents of mysticism. The first is apophatic spirituality, sometimes referred to as the “negative way,” and its chief symbol is darkness. The divine presence is experienced without using the five senses and without language or imagery. The opposite current is kataphatic spirituality, sometimes referred to as the “positive way.” Its chief symbol is light. This spirituality is very comfortable using words to describe God. – p. 59, 61
Fourth century Gregory of Nyssa is apophatic. He writes, “That which is sought transcends all knowledge, being separated on all sides by incomprehensibility as by a kind of darkness.” This darkness is the ultimate fullness, caused by the brilliance of divine light. – p. 60
People like Francis of Assisi, drawn to kataphatic spirituality, find the use of music, litanies, walks in nature and even the prayers of others helpful for making them aware of God’s presence. – p. 62
Meister Eckhart, fourteenth century Dominican mystic, said that when the poor in spirit pray, they consistently renounce any image or metaphor because they want to avoid idolatry. Such a stance in the life of prayer reveals a profound realism and poverty. On the other hand, we use words to communicate and for prayer; we use images to process reality and for understanding. So there is a constant tension between the kataphatic and apophatic traditions. p. 63
Twelfth century Carthusian monk Guigo II’s four ladder rungs of lectio divina are reading, meditation, prayer, and contemplation. The first three are kataphatic; the fourth is apophatic. – p. 64
Read the Scripture text slowly and attentively. Study it. Then meditate on it, or ruminate, chew, ponder the text interiorly. This meditation can be challenging as we begin to apply the text’s deeper meaning to our daily lives. Thus the text leads us into prayer – praise, thanksgiving, intercession, forgiveness, confession. Then occasionally, our prayer will lead to the gift of silent contemplation. – p. 64-65
Sooner or later, the kataphatic has to admit its inability to make sense before God and give way to the apophatic. Contemplation is a grace from God which, Guigo says, slakes our thirst, feeds our hunger and makes us forget all earthly things. Following the angels ascending Jacob’s ladder into heaven, we momentarily bask in the presence of the God in heaven with a profound sacred silence. – p. 65-66
When the God who is in heaven became the God of human flesh, the flesh of every human being was consecrated and made holy. Christ represented the potential of every disciple. – p. 66
Because the God who is in heaven has taken on flesh and blood, we Christians are challenged to adopt a deeply contemplative vision of one another, to see in our neighbor another dwelling place for the Divine, another temple of the Holy Spirit, another incarnation. – p. 66-67
To confine God to an image or metaphor is idolatry; to ignore God in my neighbor is a sacrilege. – p. 67
A whole tradition of spirituality emphasizes the need to become aware of the sacrament of the neighbor. – p. 68
In chapter 53 of his Rule, St. Benedict writes in the sixth century “Any guest who happens to arrive at the monastery should be received just as we would receive Christ himself.” Mother Teresa once said, “I see God in every human being. When I wash the leper’s wounds, I feel I am nursing the Lord himself.” – p. 68
My neighbor is to be embraced and engaged – not simply endured. – p. 68
Incarnation is not only the basic Christian insight but also the basic ministerial priority. Ministry is about people – not paper, processes or procedures. God who is in heaven has taken on human flesh. And that God has the terrible habit of showing up at the most inopportune times. – p. 69
So much of our suffering originates in our lack of attention to the present. We are rarely present where we physically are. Convinced that the real action is someplace else (past or future), we rarely experience just this particular moment, pregnant with its own annunciations. – p. 70
An often repeated dictum of Zen, “After enlightenment, do the laundry,” might more accurately be rendered, “Enlightenment is doing the laundry.” Or perhaps the most accurate, “Do laundry.” – p. 71
The way of the disciple is to return to the hallowed on earth where we experience the God who is in heaven, to the place where the bush burns brightly with the presence of God. – p. 72
Chapter 4. Hallowed Be Thy Name: Walking in the Presence of God
According to the Hebrew Scriptures, name and existence are closely associated. To have no name is to have no existence in reality. To know another’s name is to have knowledge and a relationship with that person. With this in mind we can see how the revelation of the different names of God at different times suggests a deepening relationship between God and God’s people. – p. 74
Up to the time of Abraham God is known as Elohim. Then to the patriarchs, God is known by El Shaddai, perhaps meaning, “God the One of the mountain.” God revealed to Moses a new name that appears 6,828 times in the Hebrew Scriptures. According to Hebrew thinking, Moses’ knowledge of this holy name would serve as proof to the Israelites of his direct experience of God. – p. 74-75
This name was considered so sacred that the Jews never wrote this name in full or ever pronounced it. They wrote, “Yhwh,” and substituted the most distant “Adonai” in public reading. This name became a succinct expression of faith in God as Creator, ruler and liberator. – p. 75
Jesus revealed a new name for God: Abba, which suggested almost scandalous familiarity. Jesus‘ sense of personal intimacy with this God was unparalleled in its time. – p. 76
Jesus invites his disciples to join him in calling God Abba. Now calling God Abba is like meeting Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, and having her say, “Call me Beth.” We would feel uncomfortable and embarrassed by such familiarity. A tension immediately emerges between feeling undeserving and, at the same time, wanting to accept the invitation to intimacy. – p. 77
Adoration (of God) and abomination (of myself) walk hand-in-hand in spiritual formation. This paradox gives birth to the virtue of humility. – p. 77
God’s holiness is the foundation of the seventh chapter of the Rule of Saint Benedict, probably the most famous explanation of the virtue of humility within the history of western Christian spirituality. Using the image of Jacob’s ladder, Benedict reminds us that the way toward God is the way of downward mobility. – p. 77
Benedict says the ladder of humility consists of twelve rungs, which “mark decisions we are called to make in the exercise of humility and self-discipline.” – p. 77
The first rung is living with a sense of awe in God’s presence. The ladder continues with renunciation of our own desires and will. After accepting difficult conditions and acknowledging ourselves as “poor workers” in any given task, we come to the crucial seventh rung: an honest acknowledgment and belief in our inferiority when compared to others. – p. 77-78
The twelfth and highest rung is manifesting in action the humility of our hearts. Benedict notes that humility is a “decision,” an act of the will, a choice made in light of the very first rung: the awareness of being in God’s presence. That awareness comes through the recitation and subsequent hallowing of God’s name. – p. 78
Humility is the paradoxical virtue that, according to Benedict, lifts our spirits toward God by keeping our feet on the ground as we call God Abba. It is the fruit of an honest self-appraisal and self-knowledge that comes by the time we reach Benedict’s seventh rung and acknowledge our inferiority before others. – p. 78
A good way to think of the ego is E-G-O: Easing God Out. – p. 79
The fourteenth century author of The Cloud of Unknowing says, “In itself, humility is nothing else but a man’s true understanding and awareness of himself as he really is.” Or as St. Francis used to say, “What is person is before God, that he is, and no more.” And who we really are before God, as the tax collector reminds us, is a shameful, undeserving creature steeped in the insignificance of our own existence. (Hence, Benedict’s seventh rung) – p. 79
Unfortunately, what sometimes passes as humility is, in fact, a neurotic form of low self-esteem. It deflects all compliments and praise and promotes a tragic sense of worthlessness. Such forms of false humility often implode into self-humiliation. – p. 79
Always putting ourselves down is just as wrong and just as sinful as always raising ourselves up. – p. 80
The first seven rungs of Benedict’s ladder unmask our obsession with being king of the hill and queen for a day, as we are challenged to renounce our desires, our wills, to patiently accept unjust conditions, confess our faults and accept the most menial tasks as “poor workers.” – p. 80
But truly humble people also know the light. They hallow the divine name by recognizing who God created them to be, what gifts and talents God has graciously bestowed on them, and how God has acted in their lives. – p. 81
People often remind me of what I am only too aware: that I have a gift of preaching God’s word; it’s a talent God bestowed on me. – p. 81
To hallow the divine name is to be aware of and stunned by the fullness of God’s grace and action everywhere. It is to remain aware that God is the One who does the speaking and acting through us. – p. 81
Ronald Rolheiser wrote, “To be a saint is to be fueled by gratitude, nothing more and nothing less.” – p. 81
Adoration of the surpassing power of God and the abomination of our earthen vessels are inextricably bound together in the ground of the humble disciple’s path. – p. 82
The name of Jesus has been kept holy by Christians down through the centuries. The early church recognized its power. Theophan the Recluse wrote, “The Jesus Prayer is like any other prayer. It is stronger than all other prayers only in virtue of the all-powerful Name of Jesus, Our Lord and Savior.” Another Orthodox saint wrote, “The Name of the Lord is the Lord Himself. The very Name of God is power.” – p. 83
This hallowing of Jesus’ name has given rise to a way of praying at all times and living continually in the divine presence. The Way of a Pilgrim is the journal of an anonymous nineteenth century Russian Christian that speaks of the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.” The pilgrim is told to limit his recitation of the prayer to three thousand times a day. Then six thousand times a day. Finally, after ten days of laborious recitation, he could increase it to twelve thousand times a day. One day, during this last period of practice, he woke up, and what had been previously a labor for him was suddenly second nature. From that moment on, the Jesus Prayer became the constant prayer of his heart. – p. 84-85
Praying the name of Jesus in this way, the pilgrim rediscovered creation’s original purpose: the glory and praise of God. He embraced a contemplative hospitality toward inanimate objects. – p. 85
The pilgrim wrote, “The calling on the name of Jesus Christ comforted me on the road; all people seemed good to me and I felt that everyone loved me.” His faithful recitation led the pilgrim to the heart of spiritual formation: performing selfless acts of sacrificial love for others in response to the experience of God’s love in his life. – p. 86
Periodically, the divine presence commands our attention. So we stop what we are doing and momentarily bask in the presence of God. Or we continue what we are doing but with the conscious awareness that we are doing it in God’s presence. In either case, we have reached the first rung of Benedict’s ladder of humility, which is the awareness of the divine presence. – p. 87
Scheduled, set prayer times when we make deliberate use of techniques such as the Jesus Prayer hopefully provide us with a deeper sensitivity to and awareness of God’s presence when we are not praying. This opens us to receive the graced gift of unceasing prayer. – p. 87
Unceasing prayer is never dissociated from respect for creation, hospitality toward others or the the sacrament of the present moment. Finally there comes a point when our prayerfulness makes us aware of a startling reality: at every single moment, no matter where we are or what we are doing, Abba is contemplating us with the wonder and awe of a father or mother gazing on the beloved firstborn. – p. 87-88
The experience of God as the constant subject – not object – of prayer is the blossoming of unceasing prayer. We forget ourselves and enter into communion with the very prayer life of God. – p. 88
Chapter 5. Thy Kingdom Come: Promoting God’s Intention for the World
As Augustine preached, “When you say, ‘Thy kingdom come,’ you pray for yourself, because you pray that you may lead a good life.” The kingdom comes to realization when each one of us individually engages the world and brings peace, love and justice to it. That’s why Jesus challenges us to “seek first the kingdom of God” (Matthew 6:33). – p. 93
The kingdom becomes reality whenever and wherever we commit to being a little Christ – to be the hands, feet, eyes and body of Jesus, one person and one moment at a time. – p. 95
A short, non-exhaustive list of the habits of keepers of the kingdom: 1) Awareness of God’s love, 2) love of others in a manner appropriate to one’s lifestyle, 3) surrender to the present, and 4) peace and joy.
1) Awareness of God’s love: keepers of the kingdom know in their bones that they are first and foremost the beloved of Abba. This grounds them in the present moment because this love is the very air that surrounds them and gives them life. This awareness drives them deeper into the world, and each moment has the potential to be an annunciation; each creature, a ladder to God; each person, a sacrament of the Divine. – p. 98
In the third century, Origen suggested that the Song of Solomon, the Song of Songs symbolized the relation between Christ and each individual soul. This elevated the Song, writes Bernard McGinn, “to the mystical text par excellence in Christian history.”
The experience and awareness of God’s unconditional love frees us from emotional need to prove ourselves, gain attention, or make a name for ourselves. – p. 100
2) Love of others in a manner appropriate to one’s lifestyle: acceptance of others, hospitality and love are the “fingerprints” of these people. – p. 100
Authentic love moves us beyond our feelings; it is truly selfless and focuses on the other without counting the cost. The measure of authentic love is the degree of self-forgetfulness. – p. 101
Our sexuality often reveals the depths of our selflessness or our selfishness. Singles, celibates and spouses know this reality. – p. 101
3) Surrender to the present: as described by Jesuit Jean-Pierre de Caussade in the eighteenth century, this is a continual self-surrender to every single circumstance of every single moment of our lives. With startling simplicity, he writes, “What God arranges for us to experience at each moment is the best and holiest thing that could happen to us.” – p. 105
Caussade writes, “There is never a moment when God does not come forward in the guise of some suffering or some duty, and all that takes place within us, around us and through us both includes and hides his activity.” – p. 105
Caussade again: “We must be active in all that the present moment demands of us, but in everything else remain passive and abandoned and do nothing but peacefully await the promptings of God.” – p. 105
We trust that Abba’s love comes to us at every single moment of our lives. Holiness is not found somewhere else than the present moment, or in some more dramatic or specifically spiritual practice. – p. 106
Caussade: “Let us realize that all we have to do to achieve the height of holiness is to do only what we are already doing and endure what we are already enduring, and to realize, too, that all we count as trivial and worthless is what can make us holy.” – p. 106
De Caussade is adamant that feelings, the five senses and intellectual reason are utterly useless as guides in this mysticism of everyday life. Faith and faith alone is the guide and light – though at times it seems like a blinding darkness. – p. 106
With utter simplicity he writes, “There is nothing safer and less likely to lead us astray than the darkness of faith.” – p. 106
Fostering this kingdom characteristic is just like learning how to float in water. The more we actively try to float, the more we sink. Our need to be in charge of the floating is our greatest obstacle. Floating requires trust and surrender. We give ourselves over to the water. This is the way of the disciple. – p. 108
This selfless, loving abandonment rooted in the confident belief of God as a loving Abba is enshrined in the famous prayer of Charles de Foucauld. Assassinated in 1916 at the doors of his hermitage in the Algerian Sahara, Charles is the inspiration behind the religious community called the Little Brothers and Little Sisters of Jesus:
“Father, I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you: I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures – I wish no more than this, O Lord. Into your hands I commend my soul; I offer it to you with all the love of my heart, for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself, to surrender myself into your hands without reserve, and with boundless confidence, for you are my Father.” – p. 108-109
4) Peace and joy: The amazing thing about keepers of the kingdom is that they are unflappable. in Journey to God Bonaventure considers this tranquility to be the sixth and highest stage in one’s progress in the love of God. He is “as if in Noah’s ark where tempests cannot reach.” – p. 109
As the fourteenth century English mystic Julian of Norwich wrote, “All will be well, and every manner of things will be well.” – p. 110
As these characteristics of the kingdom keeper arrange their lives, even in the slightest of circumstances, the words “Thy kingdom come” promotes God’s intention for the world. – p. 110
Chapter 6. Thy Will Be Done on Earth as It Is in Heaven: Making Faith-Based Decisions
“How do I know if God wants me to do this? That is probably the most frequently asked question I hear in my ministry as a spiritual director. – p. 113
Jesus’ daily spiritual nourishment and ministerial momentum came precisely from knowing that the will of God was being accomplished in his life and ministry. – p. 113
Paul suggested to the church at Rome that God’s will consists of three characteristics: “what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2). – p. 115
The Christian tradition uses the word discernment in reference to the discovery of God’s will. My experience with discernment is that it is, in actual fact, making a faith-based decision rather than “figuring out the will of God.” – p. 116
Authentic discernment is the concerted effort to think beyond the selfish narcissism of the ego and decide in favor of the common good, to do what is good and acceptable and perfect so that our web of relationships continues to be fostered and strengthened. – p. 117
New Testament Greek has two words for time, chronos and kairos, which, though not strictly distinguishable, do suggest two different experiences of time. Chronos is used when time is thought of as a quantity. Kairos is time thought of in terms of quality. It is sacred time, transformative time, time that calls for a decision or response. – p. 118
Kairos occurs in our personal lives as we are challenged to make decisions that will have major implications for our lives. Kairos also occurs in the life of the world as we confront major issues such as global warming. – p. 118-119
AWARENESS: When we become aware of a kairos moment, the first challenge is to distance ourselves from our ego, or obsession with self-concern, self-image, self-preservation and self-gratification. We also need to call to mind commitments we have already made – vows to God, family and friends. At this time we need to make a concerted effort to attend to the less perceptible world “within.” The interior level of the intellect has a balanced wisdom that readily facilitates coming to a faith-based decision. – p. 119-120
ASSESSMENT: Having established a sense of freedom and objectivity and with an ear inclined to our interior wisdom, we begin the second movement of discernment, prayerfully deliberating, reflecting and thinking through a decision. – p. 121
Integrity first deals with the fundamental direction of our lives. Do we make deliberate choices for God, or for the ego? Ignatius’ rules for discernment address this question. If our fundamental stance in life is narcissistic, we will constantly be focused on the candy offered to us by the powers of evil. However, if we are listening on the interior level of the intellect, our conscience will expose the ruse. – p. 121-122
The powers of evil tend to work in our imagination and fantasies while the Spirit of God works in our conscience through the rational power of moral judgment. Consequently, a guilty conscience can sometimes be a wise guide in waking us up to our truest identity. – p. 122
If our fundamental option in life is to be faithful to being keepers of the kingdom, we might experience the powers of evil trying to rattle our cage with external obstacles, second-guessing or doubts that have no basis in reality. – p. 122
In Scripture we can consult the Ten Commandments, the teachings of Jesus and especially his Sermon on the Mount, Scripture’s exhortation for us to love one another, Paul’s description of love in 1 Corinthians 13, and the mission statement of Jesus found in Isaiah 61. – p. 124-126
Dialogue with the wider Christian community and important individuals in our lives is indispensable. Ask good questions, be open for the answers. There is something inherently suspicious about trying to discern alone, without the wisdom and input of others. – p. 126-127
Finally, where is our energy and passion? Do we emotionally “connect” with one particular option? “Trust your gut – but use your head.”
ACTION: Decisions made prematurely can miss the transformative grace that distinguishes kairos from chronos. – p. 128
Never take action during spiritual desolation, when a storm swirls within us or when we are feeling off-balance and non-centered. The best decisions are made when our feet are firmly planted on the ground. – p. 128
There seems to be a misconception among some people that the final step in the process of discernment is a revelation by God. But I view discernment as making a faith-based decision and not “picking God’s brain.” The final act of any discernment process is our own choice and action made in light of the kingdom of God. – p. 129
Faith-based decisions are often blessed by God. However, that should not be a prerequisite for action. Often it’s a gift in hindsight and not foresight. – p. 130
THE QUARTERLY REVIEW OF LIFE
- Check-in
- Call of the kingdom – reflecting on how we have measured up to our responsibility to be keepers of the kingdom in action and attitude?
- Scriptural foundation for the way we are living our life right now
- Read, reflect and listen through the Scripture that seems most appropriate for the situation. Imagine yourself into the scene or story, learn all you can from every character in the story
- Respond to this process and put practical flesh and bones on our ideas, create strategies to change where change needs to occur
- Make a faith-based decision for change for the next quarter of the year
This review process can be done between two or three spiritual friends. It can also provide the format for a monthly meeting with a spiritual director. – p. 130-133
Chapter 7: Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread: Becoming What We Receive
We are not independent, self-sufficient beings. We come into the world, live and die as people who are dependent and in need. To be human is to be in need. To pray, Give us this day our daily bread” is to recognize our absolute dependency and existential poverty before God. – p. 135
The essence of humility is proclaiming everything as a grace: looks, personality, friends, talents, our ability to perform acts of penance and devotion. Through the selfless, sacrificial love of Jesus, Abba the divine Almsgiver transforms our poverty and dependence into the experience of life in abundance. – p. 136
In teaching us to pray for something as ordinary as bread, Jesus also teaches us that nothing is too trifling for Abba’s concern. Nothing is inappropriate to place before God. If it is a worry or a problem or a concern for us, it is also a worry or a problem or a concern for God. – p. 138
A key to holiness: never to grow up, never to outgrow God. Children have no illusions. They know they are helpless and dependent. Though they may be unable to verbalize it, children instinctively know they are totally dependent on their parents. – p. 140
Perhaps no other person in the history of Christian spirituality lived this out in a more profound way than Marie-Francoise-Therese Martin, known by man y as Saint Therese of LIsieux or “the Little Flower of Jesus.” She spent the last decade of her life behind the walls of a cloistered Carmelite monastery in northern France. Therese died in 1897 of tuberculosis at the age of twenty-four. – p. 140
In 1997 Pope John Paul II made her the thirty-third Doctor of the Church, only the third woman. He said, “She counters a rational culture so often overcome by practical materialism, with the disarming simplicity of the “little way” which, by returning to the essentials, leads to the secret of all life: the divine Love that surrounds and penetrates every human venture. – p. 141
When asked about spiritual formation in the last year of her life, she said, “It is the way of spiritual childhood, the way of confidence and abandonment to God. Throw at Jesus’ feet the flowers of little sacrifices, win Him through our caresses.” – p. 141
To remain a little child, Therese said, “means that we acknowledge our nothingness, that we expect everything from the good Lord, that we worry about nothing, that we remain little, seeking only to gather flowers, the flowers of sacrifice, and offer them to the good Lord for His pleasure … finally, it means that we must not be discouraged by our faults, for children fall frequently. – p. 142
She mentioned that she was looking for a “very straight,very short, a completely new little way” to heaven.” Thinking of the newly invented elevator she wrote, “I would also like to find an elevator to life me up to Jesus, because I’m too little to climb the rough staircase of perfection.” – p. 143
Responding to Proverbs 9:4 and Isaiah 66:-12-13, she wrote to her sister Marie, “The elevator that must lift me up to heaven is Your arms, Jesus! For that I do not need to become big. On the contrary, I have to stay little – may I become little, more and more.” – p. 143
The independent, self-sufficient approach to life is the fundamental sin of so many of us. It is the refusal of grace, the denial of Ubuntu, that we need one another to come to know who we truly are. It ignores the common good. But luckily, it can take us only so far. – p. 144
We run up against a brick wall. We get a sudden glimpse into our existential self-deficiency. We finish eating the apple and discover, a few hours later, that we are hungry again. We come to recognize our dependency. – p. 144
Preaching has always come easily to me. I spent the first ten years of my ordained ministry promoting my talent. Booked ahead for two years at a time, I crisscrossed the country – and several continents – three weeks of every month. I enjoyed the lifestyle of a jet-setter. Met wonderful people, saw places I never dreamt I would see, and touched a lot of people along the way. – p. 144-145
So why did I give it all up? Because I gradually came to realize that I was not preaching the gospel; I was preaching myself. I began to feel like a fraud, and one day it smacked me right in the face: all my self-promotion had gotten me was life in a pigpen – in business class at 37,000 feet! – p. 145
Over the next two years I rediscovered my passion for the Chinese culture and language and ended up in China for eleven years. There I lived most of the time like a child as I struggled to learn how to speak again. – p. 145
Now I am only too aware that it’s not “my” preaching ministry but God’s. As I travel from venue to venue, I find myself more and more dependent on God. – p. 146
Growth in the spiritual life is measured by our awareness of our absolute dependence on Abba and our continual petition for daily bread. A great paradox in the spiritual life, indeed: to mature is to become a child. – p. 146
Thomas Merton once distinguished between two ways of spiritual formation. The first way, based on the first three Gospels, is characterized by active faith: We “do” things in response to God’s gifts and graces. We go to church. We read Scripture. We fast, we read. We share our time and treasure with those in need. The second – more contemplative, more mature and more childlike – is based more on the words of Jesus in John, the fourth Gospel, where Merton says the person stops “floundering around and thrashing around and doing this and that.” One is content simply to wait for the Lord, expect the Lord and then abide in the Lord. – p. 146-147
But to pray: “Give us this day our daily bread,” is not simply an act of humility and childlike faith in God’s providence. It is also an adult commitment to become daily bread for others. – p. 148
To receive the Bread of Life is to make the commitment to become the Bread of Life for others. It has profound social consequences. It is truly a “comm-union” from the Latin meaning a “union with.” – p. 149
When we do not intend to become the Eucharist for others, when we do not intend to become daily bread for another person, when we have no intention of giving ourselves totally and breaking our bodies and pouring out our blood for the salvation of this world, the the Eucharist is reduced to a mere sentimental, empty action. The Bread of Life becomes the appetizer for apathy. – p. 152
In John’s Gospel, the humble, selfless act of foot washing replaces the Eucharist. In a sense it is a vivid reminder that for at least the first hundred years of Christianity, the Eucharist was considered first and foremost an action, not an object. Every day, in some way, shape or form, we are challenged to forget ourselves in selfless acts of sacrificial love. – p. 152-153
Reflection questions: 4) Is my life truly Eucharistic? How? When? Is the Eucharist a devotion or a challenge for me? and 5) In what ways and what situations am I challenged to wash the feet of others? How do I know if I am washing feet selfishly or selflessly? – p. 154
Chapter 8. Forgive Us Our Trespasses: Running Into a Father’s Open Arms
Focused on “me,” the ego can be excruciatingly more demanding than God as it demands nothing less than perfect contrition evidenced in external behavior that never quite measures up. This obsession blankets the soul with a devastating and debilitating (false) guilt. – p. 156
Shackled by shame and paralyzed by remorse, we are virtually incapable of repentance, and we become like the living dead, counting off the days remaining on death row. – p. 156
But there is a guilt that inspires rather than incapacitates. Healthy guilt is a wise teacher and trusted companion in spiritual formation. It runs a halfway house of compassion where we are taught to honesty admit our sins, examine their roots and causes, learn from them, and move on. Such guilt challenges us never to forget that God has the final word. – p. 156
In the Hebrew Scriptures, the primary verb salah, “to forgive,” is used only of God: forgiveness is therefore a divine prerogative. A synonym for this verb, nasa, means “to bear, to remove, or to carry away.” And so, when God forgives, God “carries away” the sin. – p. 157
The divine prerogative of forgiveness throws the ego’s case against us out of court. Hence we are to be as merciful and forgiving with ourselves as Abba is. – p. 158
God takes the initiative, runs down the road , lights a lamp and leaves the others in order to enter our sinful world with the alms of mercy and forgiveness. All we need to do is accept what we are freely offered, to allow ourselves to be found. – p. 159
God asked Adam, “Where are you?” So much of spiritual formation is about coming out of hiding and standing in the light, moving from remorse to repentance. – p. 159
The sacred heart of Jesus has been the iconographic image for the loving mercy of Christ. The scriptural basis for its devotion is John 19:34: “One of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once blood and water came out.” – p. 165
Ambrose stated that as Eve had come forth from the side of Adam, so the church was born from the pierced heart of Christ. Augustine wrote that the side wound was the “door of life” thrown open, from which flowed the sacramental life of the church. – p. 165
In the twelfth century, the side wound was associated with imagery from the Song of Solomon, the cleft in the rock, the opened portal through which the beloved entered the bridal chamber of divine love, the heart and nest of the dove. This laid the groundwork for a “mysticism of the heart,” a prayerful union of our hearts with the heart of Christ, or in the case of Catherine of Siena in the fourteenth century, a mystical exchange of her heart for the heart of Christ. – p. 166
In the seventeenth century Francis de Sales stated that the divine love contained in Christ’s heart peers through the side wound on our hearts. Christ would be willing to suffer and die again for our sins. The Sacred Heart represents the divine initiative and investment in our lives. – p. 166
Chapter 9. As We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us: Seeing With the Eyes of Compassion
Of all the teachings of Jesus, it was his teaching on forgiving one’s neighbor that could rightly be deemed counter-cultural. Traditional Judaism saw revenge, as long as it respected the law of equivalence, as a way of ensuring that justice was done: “life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe” (Exodus 21). – p. 173
This teaching of Jesus is the one and only human activity mentioned in the Lord’s Prayer. – p. 174
Worship of God who is Abba is only authentic when there are peace and reconciliation among the members of the family, when we share with others what God has given to us. – p. 175
An attitude of acceptance and respect for the other permeates any act of forgiveness. This attitude develops as we put God back where God belongs, recognize how we ourselves have enjoyed the free gift of God’s forgiveness and make the decision to renounce any arrogance and self-righteousness. – p. 176
Disciples live with an awareness of their own sinfulness. They do so not to be tied into the straightjacket of debilitating guilt but to keep their feet on the ground and overcome the temptation to self-righteously judge and condemn others. – p. 177
Our eyes bestow mercy. Francis wrote: “I wish to know in this way if you love the Lord and me, His servant and yours: that there is not any brother in the world who has sinned – however much he could have sinned – who, after he has looked into your eyes, would ever depart without your mercy, if he is looking for mercy. And if he were not looking for mercy, you would ask him if he wants mercy. And if he would sin a thousand times before your eyes, love him more than me so that you may draw him to the Lord; and always be merciful with brothers such as these.” – p. 181
What an abundant alms it is to preserve the dignity of the person by offering forgiveness, whether requested or not, with our eyes, when life for whatever reason has robbed the other person of the ability to ask for it with words. – p. 181
God’s grace touched Corrie ten Boom, asked to forgive her Nazi captor. She was frozen, when “the current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bring tears to my eyes. “I forgive you, brother! I cried. “With all my heart.” For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely as I did then. “ – p. 184
Sometimes we need the dynamite of God’s grace. – p. 184
In spiritual direction I ask people who are staying angry two questions: What are you gaining by keeping the grudge alive? What need is it satisfying in you? – p. 185
Hostility toward others is really a projection of our inner wound. Lack of self-acceptance, the absence of a loving parent during the formative years of childhood, scars of sexual abuse, living in the shadow of a talented sibling – these wounds never really heal. But they do stop bleeding. They no longer need to condemn us to our past. – p. 185
Our wounds paradoxically become proclamations that “death has been swallowed up in victory” (1 Cor 15).
I suggest to spiritual directees that they develop their own method of inner healing based on five important principles:
- The continuing presence of a loving, compassionate Christ: Always present, He is the one who heals, comforts and consoles.
- A review of the past event: We rarely do this head-on, but we need to. Otherwise, we live our lives around our wounds. Many will claim that “dragging up the past” is fruitless and wastes precious time on things that are best forgotten. Nothing could be further from the truth. Emotional wounds are like physical wounds: they do not heal if they are neglected; they only become infected.
On the other hand, we must wait until we are ready to face our problem. Healing is not an achievement; it is a gift. When the time is right, the memory will “float up” to the level of conscious awareness. That is a sign that it is time to begin the healing process. In the meantime Abba has given us our defense mechanisms precisely so that we can protect ourselves from the very issues or wounds that we are not yet ready to confront.
- The “step of compassion”: In this third step of inner healing we momentarily step through our pain, anger and hurt to place our feet in the shoes of the betrayer, to understand the heart of the betrayer. This is exactly what Jesus did as he hung on the cross and asked God’s forgiveness for those who executed him.
We can ask: Out of what emotional wound was the betrayer living? What pain filled the heart of the betrayer that would cause a person to react to us or treat us in the way the betrayer did? How emotionally healthy is the betrayer? Pondering these questions, we begin to enter into the flames of the betrayer’s hell.
Thomas Merton writes, “If we forgive others without humility, our forgiveness is a mockery; it presupposes that we are better than they. We must forgive them in the flames of their own hell, for Christ, by means of our forgiveness, once again descends to extinguish the avenging flame. He cannot do this if we do not forgive others with His own compassion” (No Man is an Island, p. 163).
The wound left by my father’s suicide began to dry up as I became more and more aware that he was probably doing the best he could on that day. If he could have done better, he probably would have. But on October 22, 1968, that was all he was capable of. Inner healing begins to blossom when we realize that most of the time, most people are doing the best they can.
Crippled people cannot walk without a limp. And life being as it is, we are all limping.
- Calling on the healing ministry of Christ: Now we turn to Jesus and ask him to minister to us. The risen Christ is both the physician and the balm. We allow the healing light that shines through his glorified wounds to (slowly but surely) penetrate the deep recesses and caverns of our broken hearts. Life comes forth as Jesus calls down the wounds of our past, “Come out!”
- The proclamation of new life: Though we cannot help but look at the world through the wounds and hurts that have shaped us, we begin to realize that it is not nearly as hostile as we originally suspected. An emotional shift occurs, and we begin to walk on equal ground with other broken people who are sometimes in need of our forgiveness again. We also find ourselves reaching through our wound to extend a helping hand of compassion to those suffering the same pain or hurt that we once endured.
When we pray “As we forgive those who trespass against us,” we are actually praying for the grace to share with others what God has already given to us: mercy, compassion and forgiveness. This grace goes far beyond a simple action to a deeper nonjudgmental attitude that seeks to truly understand the betrayer. That understanding helps to set us free from the inflicted wound and leads us to a personal experience of the resurrection.
Reflection questions: 2) In a recent act of forgiveness, what did I learn about my betrayer? 4) When have I experienced someone forgiving me with their eyes? How did I react?
Chapter 10. Lead Us Not Into Temptation: Refusing to Dance With the Devil
What is this power of evil? The Hebrew noun for “adversary” or “accuser” is often transliterated into English as Satan. It is found in only three places in the Hebrew Scriptures, all of them post-exilic (Job 1-2, 1 Chron 21:1, Zech 3:1-2). In these passages, the adversary is a member of God’s court who accuses human beings before God. The idea that Satan was an enemy of God or the embodiment of evil had not yet developed. – p. 194
Over time Satan did develop into a celestial ruler of the powers of evil who had an army of demons. He represented the personification of all the influences that tempted Israel from living up to God’s intention for herself and all creation. In the late post-exilic period the devil, or Satan, came to be identified with the “serpent” found in the third chapter of Genesis. – p. 194
At the time of Jesus Satan was believed to have a kingdom that stood in direct opposition to the kingdom of God that Jesus had come to establish (Mk 3:23-26). The satanic forces were understood to be the cause of physical and mental sickness as well as natural calamities. Giving in to the temptations of these forces led to human sin and misery. – p. 194
The book of Revelation describes Satan’s demise as one in which the devil is thrown into a lake of fire and sulfur and tormented for all eternity. – p. 195
Thomas Merton told his students, “Behind the attractions and the surface of things in the world there is a force at work to deceive people – a force of deception.” Language is inadequate to describe this force, but “if you go horsing around with it, you are in trouble.” – p. 195
The process of thinking promoted by the power of evil is sometimes coldly logical and cruelly detached from emotion – and disruptive of any sense of Ubuntu. Merton wrote that the decision to fire nuclear weapons will be made by “sane people” who “have perfectly good reasons, logical, well-adjusted reasons, for firing the shot. They will be obeying sane orders that have come sanely down the chain of command … When the missiles take off, it will be no mistake.” – p. 195
I am more embarrassed by my temptations than my sins. To sin takes a split second. But I usually spend a lot more time planning, “horsing around” with the temptation. The longer I fiddle, the more difficult it is to walk away. – p. 196
In John Cassian’s fourth century Institutes and Conferences, he describes eight thoughts Satan confronts us with in the spiritual life. Awareness of, wrestling with and overcoming these thoughts are basic spiritual disciplines. – p. 196
|
Tempting Thought |
Saving Virtue |
| Food (Gluttony, Addiction) | Self-control |
| Sex (Lust) | Chastity |
| Things (Greed) | Generosity |
| Anger | Patience |
| Dejection | Diligence |
| Acedia | Perseverance |
| Vainglory | Humility |
| Pride | Charity |
Greed: Today’s enough is never enough as we buy and hoard for an illusory future. – p. 200
Lives bloated with knickknacks, trinkets and superficial possessions betray a deep spiritual hunger that is being malnourished with “junk food.” – p. 200
Patience is the deliberate, measured response of an accepting heart that allows a situation to unfold in its own way. – p. 202
My spiritual director became aware of my tendency toward self-absorption in depressing thoughts and feelings. He suggested that I practice the virtue of diligence. Simply put, diligence is doing a particular task, such as washing the dishes or folding the laundry, with full attention and deliberateness; nothing else matters nor am I thinking about anything else but the task at hand. I focus on the sacrament of the present moment and the present duty before me. – p. 202
Cassian’s sixth thought, acedia is often identified as spiritual laziness or sloth. Rather, these thoughts attempt to throw the cold water of lethargy and indifference on our spiritual formation and make us feel spiritually weary. When we don’t see desired results we not only become discouraged but also are tempted to discontinue. In the desert, a novice monk might be full of zeal and enthusiasm at dawn but become bored and listless by noon. No wonder acedia was referred to as the “noonday devil.” – p. 203
Acedia’s thoughts promote half-hearted lives that are sluggish and slow and stagnant. We could also refer to this temptation as the “midlife devil,” since we are especially tempted to renege on lifelong promises and important responsibilities as we journey through our forties and fifties. – p. 203
Perseverance, the virtue that challenges acedia, is rooted in awareness that spiritual formation is a lifelong, ongoing process. Perseverance is the persistent openness to God’s grace and the spirit of endurance that never ceases to respond. – p. 203
Vainglory tries to seduce us into thinking we can accomplish anything or everything on our own. Pride, on the other hand, tempts us to go one step further and actually believe we have made it, and that we are better than others. It rationalizes away a hundred special requirements that should be met in light of our magnificence. The temptation toward pride is the afterglow left behind by vainglory. – p. 204-205
Charity takes the focus off self and breaks the narcissistic mirror of pride. – p. 205
Three facts help us deal with temptation: 1) we are NOT our superficial thoughts and the resulting desires they sometimes open up inside of us. 2) These temptations and the feelings they elicit do not offer or invite any sense of fidelity or commitment. They come and go. And 3) These thoughts and desires disappear and move on if we choose not to dance with them. – p. 207
Refusing to dance with the devil presupposes that we live with an awareness of what is going on inside of us. Within the Eastern Orthodox tradition of Christianity, this is called nepsis, the practice of mindfulness and vigilance to what is going on in the mind and heart. – p. 208
Practicing nepsis, we make a concerted effort to let go of every thought that sails down the stream of consciousness. We do not actively “fight against” the thought, since that becomes a form of engagement with it. Rather, we simply let it go. This simple exercise, practiced while waiting at a stoplight or during a period of prayer when our attention is focused on the divine presence (centering prayer, for example), helps to build up resistance to the seduction of tempting thoughts. – p. 208
We also make a concerted effort to be vigilant toward the impulses, desires and passions of the heart. We pay careful attention to every feeling and scrutinize its motivation. This helps to short-circuit the natural tendency to respond to any feeling of self-concern, self-image, self-preservation and self-gratification. And when we notice those feelings, we make the deliberate choice not to feed them, not to give them any attention whatsoever. – p. 209
Once this becomes a regular part of our spiritual practice, we can begin practicing a deeper form of nepsis. This is learning to be aware of what situations elicit what thoughts and feelings, of my triggers. – p. 210
The fact is, we never outgrow temptation. And so we pray, daily, “Lead us not into temptation.” -p. 210
Though we never outgrow temptations, we do grow in the ability to say no to the devil’s dance request with awareness, mindfulness and vigilance, and we approach the state of apatheia, a “state of self-mastery and attention from which one cannot be dislodged by distractions or by the kinds of outbursts of spiritual energy that express itself in anger and resentment.
Chapter 11. Deliver Us From Evil: Embracing the Cross
“Deliver us from evil” is a plea to be set free from our obsession with self-concern, self-image, self-preservation and self-gratification. – p. 215
Like Jesus, most of us have experienced at least one trial or tragedy when we asked, “Where are you, God? Have you forgotten me?” – p. 216
Jane Frances de Chantal experienced the feeling of abandonment by God for three decades. Paul of the Cross’s spiritual trial was even lengthier, but he was granted relief toward the end of his life. The final eighteen months of Therese of Lisieux’s short life were consumed with physical, emotional and spiritual suffering. – p. 216
Perhaps the longest documented experience of feeling abandoned by God was in the life of Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu, know to the world as Mother Teresa of Calcutta. In 1946 she had a mystical experience of Jesus that led her to begin the Sisters of Mercy. For the next year or so, she experienced a deep union with Jesus. And then, suddenly, it all came to a grinding halt. A profound spiritual darkness and feeling of being abandoned by God came over her. – p. 217
Her dark night would continue for the next fifty years until her death. Before she died, she made peace with the darkness. Mother Teresa’s experience reminds us of an important principle of spiritual formation: Feelings are NOT a trustworthy guide in the spiritual life; they can be misleading and deceptive. – p. 218
Feelings of desolation – of sadness, grief, and disappointment – can falsely indicate that the God who is as close to us as a father to his children has abandoned us. The opposite is also true: feelings of consolation – of peacefulness, joy, contentment and happiness – are no sure indication that God is closer to us than God is to others. – p. 218
In fact, in times of desolation and times of consolation, God is still like the air we breathe. – p. 218
But we do need to make some sense of our trials. It’s clear that Mother Teresa only came “love the darkness” once she came to understand her dark night as a “very, very small part of Jesus darkness and pain on earth,” as the “spiritual side of her work.” – p. 219
One way of understanding dark nights and spiritual trials is that they are forms of purification, of “discipline” (Hebrews 12). But the flip side of purification is transformation into the “holiness” of god. Trials can help us become who we are called to be, namely little Christs. – p. 220
Blind faith is the torch we carry as we walk through the dark night. Paul says, “For we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5). The very essence of faith is a radical trust that sometimes can only fumble and stumble through the darkness. In his own darkness, Jesus said, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” Indeed, the feeling of abandonment by God is a challenge to make an act of abandonment to God. That’s putting blind faith into action. – p. 222
Saint Francis says true and perfect joy is found in our acceptance of the trial of betrayal, in our surrender to the tribulation of rejection. – p. 223
The ego has the emotional need to stand and fight, draw battle lines, defend itself. “Deliver us from evil” is a prayer to be delivered from the evil that we ourselves impose on the world. – p. 224
The way of the disciple knows only too well that some truths speak for themselves and have no need of justification. And it is quite content to absorb the evil of another. – p. 225
Some forms of frustration and suffering are the price we pay to keep the ego alive and thriving. But other forms of suffering confront the ego head-on, unmasking its illusions and purifying us of its lies. – p. 225
In the last two years of his life, Francis of Assisi went into a depression. He prayed for hope and patient endurance. Francis heard these words in response from God, “Brother, be glad and rejoice in your illnesses and troubles, because as of now, you are as secure as if you were already in my kingdom.” Hearing these words, Francis cast aside his self-pity and stopping fighting against sickness, his blindness, and even the mice. – p. 226
Francis renounced the temptation to control and change the situation. From that quiet stance, he suddenly became aware of the divine presence that surrounded him like the air he breathed. The blind saint saw creation in all its ordinariness and sacramentality. It became a ladder leading him to God. – p. 226
It was on this very day that Saint Francis composed the “Canticle of the Creatures,” which begins: “Praised by you, my Lord, with all your creatures, especially Sir Brother Sun, who is the day and through whom you give us light. And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor and bears a likeness of you, Most High One.” He recognized the family of creation – Sister Moon, Brother Wind, Sister Water, Brother Fire, Sister Mother Earth, and he gave praise to Sister Death, whom he no longer feared. – p. 226-227
The “Canticle of the Creatures” is Saint Francis’ resurrection song in the face of his own Calvary. Agony become adoration, pain became praise, and suffering quite literally became song. – p. 227
“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). That is a requirement Jesus places on anyone who wishes to follow the way of the disciple. The Gospels repeat it five times (Matt 10:38, 16:24, Mark 8:34, Luke 9:23, 14:27). – p. 227-228
God’s divine lavishness and generosity set the benchmark for a disciple’s behavior and response. We live lives of selfless, sacrificial love as we claim everyone as family; we live lives of humility as we claim everything as alms from the divine Almsgiver. We dedicate ourselves to bringing about the fullness of the kingdom by working for peace, love and justice. We allow our baptismal commitment to influence every decision we make, and we forgive those who trespass against us. We resist temptations and live virtuously. Aware of God’s abiding and continual presence, we surrender with trust and hope to every cross that comes our way.- p. 236-237
Not a method or technique, this prayer is truly “an abridgment of the entire Gospel,” as Tertullian said in the late second century. To live the Lord’s Prayer is to walk the way of the disciple. – p. 237
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