Recovering the root and center of our spiritual tradition

This is a continuation of the preceding post . . . For those who identify with Jesus, spiritual awakening in our times means a recovery of the root and center of the Christian spiritual tradition—a heritage too long neglected but kept alive by monks and mystics (who, incidentally, have generally been poor and most often not very powerful).

Take St. Anthony the Egyptian as a model of the poor, relatively uneducated, and often oppressed, who’s life inspired the Christian monastic impulse that has probably been solely responsible for the durability of the Christian faith in the world. For without the monks and their practices, often hidden from the world, we may well not have a Church today.

I her musing, Mitali hopes "that the contemplative life these days isn’t a luxury enjoyed only by the (relatively) rich and powerful," and wonders if there is a tradition of contemplation among the poor, the oppressed, and the uneducated.

It's a question of vital importance.

The history of Christian spirituality testifies that the life of contemplation and soul-care is no luxury for the rich and powerful—even though Providence is now awakening the affluent to the spiritual life they’ve too long ignored. And Christian clergy like me have largely failed this tribe; we've failed to invite them into this tradition and to find there the spiritual nurture they need. Instead we've pandered to their desire for programs and projects, and given them ideas to believe in without practices that can move faith from their heads to their living hearts.

(to be continued . . . )

Awaken to Advent through this simple spiritual practice

Awakening to the spiritual life after a long, raucous, and wandering path, a life full of many mistakes and painful episodes, a North African named Augustine lamented his spiritual dullness.  Augustine, later acknowledged as a doctor and saint in the truest sense of the word (doctor as healer; saint as holy one), points us toward the only place any of us can really meet God:

"Late have I loved You, Beauty, at once so ancient and so new!  Late have I come to love You!  You were within me, and I was in the world outside myself.  You were with me, but I was not with You."

As the world turns toward the mystery that is Christmas . . . God with us . . . you are awakening.  You are awakening to the God who is as near to you as the beating of your heart.

Here's a simple practice to move you from living all in-your-head, or "in the world outside," and instead into relationship with that "Beauty, at once so ancient and so new":

Quiet yourself, even for a moment before your computer.  Gently follow your breath (click here for suggestions on breathing) and the Breath/Holy Spirit will guide you from "the world outside" yourself and into the inner realm.  Gently repeat, "Come, Oh come, Emmanuel," and let the words ride on your breath.  The breath is the narrow gate into the heart, and the heart is the cradle of Christ, God-With-Us.

You touch eternity.  You brush up against heaven.  Now you know heaven's not up or out or somewhere other than where you are, nor is it waiting for you when you die.

It is in.

It is now.

It is here.

Something is Starting to Catch Fire

A friend calls me a spiritual arsonist.  She says I go around setting fire to peoples’ lives. “That doesn’t sound very safe,” I tell her.

“It’s not,” she says, “but that’s what makes it good.”

There are arsonists everywhere.  You're among them.  There's something starting to catch fire, and this spiritual awakening is reaching a tipping point.  It's a blaze that burns in the darkness and the darkness will never put it out (John 1.5)

Here's another witness to the growing blaze . . .

Signs of Awakening

There are signs of awakening all around us.  And there are people who are daring to give voice to that awakening; they’re trying to find words to put with their experience.  Sarah’s one who’s reaching for words—and she, like so many others, is helping us to imagine the future by doing the hard work of bringing to the light of day what the Holy Spirit is speaking in her during these twilight hours before the Dawn breaks upon us.

“There’s a longing that’s stirring within me—a longing for holiness.  You’re right about the Wal-Mart style of Christianity, and it’s created an experience of deep sadness in me, a disappointment at the overall cheapness of it.

“I long for something of value, something of real goodness that cannot be quantified or made systematic. My longings are hard to explain; it’s more of an I-know-it-when-I-see-it kind of thing, and I know it when I see it because it’s real.  I’ve also experienced the kind of conversations within church communities that sound like they’re on the right track, but they’re not.  People ask each other: ‘what does it look like to be real?  How do we create something authentic?’”

Sarah rightly knows there’s an intrinsic link between holiness and realness.  And she knows there’s something false lurking nearby when realness is used for some other purpose.  The moment real can’t stand on its own as a good thing in its own right, is the moment you’ve come face to face with phoniness all dressed up and looking pretty.

If you’re weary and wary of the charade, chances it’s not cynicism that’s at work in you.  You’re part of a larger awakening.  But it could turn to cynicism if you don’t link up with others who’ve glimpsed the first rays of Christ’s coming dawn.

In my experience they're often nearer than you think.  But knowing each other requires guts; we’ve got to try to give voice to what we’re longing for, and risk speaking it to others.

Into the Silent Land--the Human Heart

Here's an outstanding introduction to the richness of Christian spirituality, interior prayer, stillness, and inner transformation.  A handy little book by Martin Laird: Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation

"This book is different. There are plenty of books on contemplation that feel rather tired--either wordy and labored or unhelpfully smooth and idealistic. But this is sharp, deep, with no cliches, no psychobabble and no short cuts. Its honesty is bracing, its vision utterly clear; it is a rare treasure."

--Rowan Williams, The Archbishop of Canterbury

"Often they say 'you learn how to swim by swimming' but a good coach or swimming manual is essential. Equally, we could say 'you learn how to be contemplative by contemplating' and a good guide or mentor is necessary. Into the Silent Land is just that. I tried it and it works. Try it."

--Archbishop Desmond Tutu, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize