On our plane, a young woman shares a seat in our row with us. She is twentyish and clearly excited to return home. She tells us that she lived and worked for three months in the poorest of poor Kenyan villages. She slept on the floor of a hut without electricity. As the plane touched down at Heathrow, she was clearly overexcited to be safe at home after such a long time.
We disembark, together with masses of other people from many other planes from all over the world. We walk through the impressive terminal 5, the wide corridors, neat and shiny interior, to pass quickly through the burocracies of customs and baggage collection. Then we spill out into the parking areas, the stations, buses and taxi’s to return to the first world homes and offices. And all the while, even though you may look carefully, you will not see poor people around. It it the big world of the have’s, the privileged.
Later on during the day we do some shopping in a supermarktet. Everything is new, shiny, neat and, despite the recession, available in abundance. I see supermarket trolleys filled. The counters at the cash registers are loaded with the products bought by each and everyone.
In Kenya people sleep on the floor of their huts. They do not have electrcial lights in the small villages which they can switch on to read of live in their small places. There is no supermarket, no hospital, no t.v. Maybe, now and then, they would hear the soft droning of an aeroplane, high, high up in the African sky, on its way to London, Paris, Frankfurt.
I keep on thinking about the happy smile of the young woman on the plane. She was so excited, so exuberant. I wish I could be a fly on the wall to listen in as she tells her family and friends of her African experience tonight in the comfort of her first world home.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Travelling with loved ones...
We are on our way to foreign lands. A journey of 12 000 kilometers. To meet our loved ones whom we only see once or twice a year. Exciting. Something to look forward to. We last saw them over the Christmas holidays. A journey is more special if one shares it.
It is not different from our spiritual journey...
It is not different from our spiritual journey...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Spiritualiy as self-improvement? On nothingness....
Watching a program on T.V. on meditation for inmates of a local prison today, I was struck by the way in which a small number of them was being introduced to meditation techniques by Buddhists from their area. The program included impressive, even moving scenes of their meditation, singing, ceremonies, silence, postures and induction. There were also a few interviews in which the inmates spoke of the transformation they experienced since beginning with the meditation. One of them even said he told his father that he did not want to leave prison because, in the hustle and bustle of daily life, would not have the time to care for his inner self and being as he could do in prison!
What intrigued me was how focussed these people were on experiencing something with which they could transcend their past. They applied their minds with intensity to their meditation and rituals. Their hands folded in a posture of prayer, the body siting quietly on the mat, ever so often touching the floor with their head, singing droning, melodic, soft, pleasing sounds, resonating with bodily movements and gestures – all clearly done with attention and dedication.
And yet I experienced in myself distance, almost an apprehension about their focus on the inner self, but especially about the way in which they spoke of meditation as self-improvement. They exert themselves, breathing carefully, aware of the here and the now, but they do it to become more quiet, more at peace, “better” people.
This feeling left me wondering about my apprehension. I was reminded of the element of nothingness which is so central to the mystical experience. The person who is longing for God in prayer, becomes aware, at some stage, of the divine presence. Through his or her experience there is an awareness that his longing is no longer in focus, but there is now in the foreground some form of the divine presence. He or she feels God is moving to the centre of the experience. This presence of the divine becomes so overwhelming that it finally creates a feeling of ecstacy – not necessarily in a sensational way, but simply in the sense of loosing awareness of oneself, moving away from one’s consciousness of oneself. One is no longer bound to the self. In this ecstacy, one is un-bound from the self. It does not really matter who you are. There is an awareness that I should become less, the divine should become more. “I am not worthy to untie” (John 1). God becomes everything, I become nothing. Nothing-ness! I am crucified in Christ. I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. It is a deep desire to exist in God, to return to God, from where one came. To give up one’s reality for the divine reality.
I am intrigued by the discipline with which the inmates meditate and seek self-improvement. To some extent they seek to flee from the past, to reduce the baggage of what went wrong with them. To some extent it may even be an attempt to reduce the past to nothingness and to overcome that burden by entering a new life of self-betterment and self-growth.
And yet, I wonder about the these attempts. True mysticism does not try to present the self in a neat, new format. It leaves it behind, it abandons it for something more valuable, more fulfilling. It implies sacrificing awareness of and the self. It even entails desiring the end of the self.
This happens because one is aware of the graceful love of God. In this bright light of grace, the self, by way of speaking, melts away. The movement towards the divine Presence radiating the glow of true life and joy, releases one from pre-occupation with that which is limited, mortal, temporary. One is involved in a relationship with the Other, face to face with the One who is incomprehensible, yet so intimately involved with us on our spiritual journey. In true mysticism, there is no longer the contemplation of the self, but the contemplation of God, the One who is so different, so incomprehensible, but yet so close. For this Love, one needs to be a space so empty, so completely nothing, that Love can exist in its widest sense of the word in our existence.
What intrigued me was how focussed these people were on experiencing something with which they could transcend their past. They applied their minds with intensity to their meditation and rituals. Their hands folded in a posture of prayer, the body siting quietly on the mat, ever so often touching the floor with their head, singing droning, melodic, soft, pleasing sounds, resonating with bodily movements and gestures – all clearly done with attention and dedication.
And yet I experienced in myself distance, almost an apprehension about their focus on the inner self, but especially about the way in which they spoke of meditation as self-improvement. They exert themselves, breathing carefully, aware of the here and the now, but they do it to become more quiet, more at peace, “better” people.
This feeling left me wondering about my apprehension. I was reminded of the element of nothingness which is so central to the mystical experience. The person who is longing for God in prayer, becomes aware, at some stage, of the divine presence. Through his or her experience there is an awareness that his longing is no longer in focus, but there is now in the foreground some form of the divine presence. He or she feels God is moving to the centre of the experience. This presence of the divine becomes so overwhelming that it finally creates a feeling of ecstacy – not necessarily in a sensational way, but simply in the sense of loosing awareness of oneself, moving away from one’s consciousness of oneself. One is no longer bound to the self. In this ecstacy, one is un-bound from the self. It does not really matter who you are. There is an awareness that I should become less, the divine should become more. “I am not worthy to untie” (John 1). God becomes everything, I become nothing. Nothing-ness! I am crucified in Christ. I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. It is a deep desire to exist in God, to return to God, from where one came. To give up one’s reality for the divine reality.
I am intrigued by the discipline with which the inmates meditate and seek self-improvement. To some extent they seek to flee from the past, to reduce the baggage of what went wrong with them. To some extent it may even be an attempt to reduce the past to nothingness and to overcome that burden by entering a new life of self-betterment and self-growth.
And yet, I wonder about the these attempts. True mysticism does not try to present the self in a neat, new format. It leaves it behind, it abandons it for something more valuable, more fulfilling. It implies sacrificing awareness of and the self. It even entails desiring the end of the self.
This happens because one is aware of the graceful love of God. In this bright light of grace, the self, by way of speaking, melts away. The movement towards the divine Presence radiating the glow of true life and joy, releases one from pre-occupation with that which is limited, mortal, temporary. One is involved in a relationship with the Other, face to face with the One who is incomprehensible, yet so intimately involved with us on our spiritual journey. In true mysticism, there is no longer the contemplation of the self, but the contemplation of God, the One who is so different, so incomprehensible, but yet so close. For this Love, one needs to be a space so empty, so completely nothing, that Love can exist in its widest sense of the word in our existence.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The shocking experience of God's grace and our trusting surrender to it.
Karl Rahner (1904-1984) was one of the outstanding theologians of the twentieth century. He wrote profound works, not always so easy, but certainly focussed on practical matters that affected the life of the church. He stands in the tradition of Ignatian Spirituality, writing abouth the direct, unmediated experience of God.
His was a mysticism of the everyday life which represents a space where the mystical can be experienced. One of his best-known works is his Letter from Ignatius to modern day Jesuits in which he wrote in an Ignatian idiom to contemporary Jesuits.
In this letter Rahner represents Ignatius as saying that he wanted to speak to people about his encounter with God. He refers to the historical Ignatius' two transformative experiences of the divine. This encounter drives him to want to speak to people about God and especially God’s grace, to talk about Jesus as the crucified and risen One who would open up and redeem their freedom into God’s. He had a liberating encounter with God. He experienced the true and living God directly. He does not want to speculate about this encounter through impressive theological arguments or relate sensational, ecstatic experiences.
He simply experienced God, the nameless and unsearchable one, silent and yet so close, so overwhelmingly near. He experienced God in the Trinity that is His turning to me, the incomprehensible God who is yet so near and close. He experienced God-self, not merely human words about God.
This conviction that one had experienced God, may sound innocuous to many, but it is in fact outrageous and shocking in our times and even in our churches.
The church has become a place where we are activist, busy bees, singing with bands, shouting halleluja's and praise the Lords's, organising fetes and care groups and Bible Studies. The church has become a space which we fill with people who meet and greet, who sing and shout, who pray and praise (the church), who run all over the place and never arrive. As Rahner puts it, “people can no longer bear silent solitude before God and instead seek to flee into an eccelsiastical collectivity.” Some use the church “to have nothing to do with God and God’s incomprehensiblity.”
This must be countered by redirecting the Church;s focus. Everything the church teaches, the whole process of spiritual direction aims at drawing attention to the encounter with God. The most important thing that can happen is that God and human beings can really meet mutually.
This is an experience that Luther had (says Rahner, the catholic theologian). He encountered God directly with no intervention or intermediation through the church. He had the liberating experience of a God who loves, who fills one with joy, who releases one from anguish and suffering, who comes close, near and fills one with a glorious divine presence.
So Rahner appeals to the Church: remember to pursue this one task relentlessly: the aim of spiritual care is not to fill people with a theology that dumps endless words on others and make them obey the church. Help people to move beyond the visible, the tangible, the external matters or clever insights. Care for people should reflect the passion for their encounter with the divine who graciously spends immeasurable joy and love, not only in this desperate life, but also in death.
Where one stands before God in solitude, true life is imparted. This is what spirituality means. It is time for the Holy Spirit to empower the faithful to stand in the presence of God.
His was a mysticism of the everyday life which represents a space where the mystical can be experienced. One of his best-known works is his Letter from Ignatius to modern day Jesuits in which he wrote in an Ignatian idiom to contemporary Jesuits.
In this letter Rahner represents Ignatius as saying that he wanted to speak to people about his encounter with God. He refers to the historical Ignatius' two transformative experiences of the divine. This encounter drives him to want to speak to people about God and especially God’s grace, to talk about Jesus as the crucified and risen One who would open up and redeem their freedom into God’s. He had a liberating encounter with God. He experienced the true and living God directly. He does not want to speculate about this encounter through impressive theological arguments or relate sensational, ecstatic experiences.
He simply experienced God, the nameless and unsearchable one, silent and yet so close, so overwhelmingly near. He experienced God in the Trinity that is His turning to me, the incomprehensible God who is yet so near and close. He experienced God-self, not merely human words about God.
This conviction that one had experienced God, may sound innocuous to many, but it is in fact outrageous and shocking in our times and even in our churches.
The church has become a place where we are activist, busy bees, singing with bands, shouting halleluja's and praise the Lords's, organising fetes and care groups and Bible Studies. The church has become a space which we fill with people who meet and greet, who sing and shout, who pray and praise (the church), who run all over the place and never arrive. As Rahner puts it, “people can no longer bear silent solitude before God and instead seek to flee into an eccelsiastical collectivity.” Some use the church “to have nothing to do with God and God’s incomprehensiblity.”
This must be countered by redirecting the Church;s focus. Everything the church teaches, the whole process of spiritual direction aims at drawing attention to the encounter with God. The most important thing that can happen is that God and human beings can really meet mutually.
This is an experience that Luther had (says Rahner, the catholic theologian). He encountered God directly with no intervention or intermediation through the church. He had the liberating experience of a God who loves, who fills one with joy, who releases one from anguish and suffering, who comes close, near and fills one with a glorious divine presence.
So Rahner appeals to the Church: remember to pursue this one task relentlessly: the aim of spiritual care is not to fill people with a theology that dumps endless words on others and make them obey the church. Help people to move beyond the visible, the tangible, the external matters or clever insights. Care for people should reflect the passion for their encounter with the divine who graciously spends immeasurable joy and love, not only in this desperate life, but also in death.
Where one stands before God in solitude, true life is imparted. This is what spirituality means. It is time for the Holy Spirit to empower the faithful to stand in the presence of God.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Imitating Christ?
Some time ago in a discussion about Thomas a Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ, a theologian friend complained to me, How could, he asked with some indignation, someone claim to imitate Christ? Yes, obviously, it makes sense to follow Christ as disciple. But to attempt to do what Christ did? To imitate the divine Son?
I suspect that he thought of Thomas’ book in terms of its title, “Imitatio Christi,” which some, with a limited knowledge of Latin, could misunderstand as he did as meaning an arrogant attempt to claim for oneself a status far beyond what one can ever attain.
Except that this book, the most widely read book except for the Bible, does not even vaguely consider imitation as an arrogant attempt to be like Christ.
In the very first chapter, Thomas begins with a quotation from John 8:12, “he that follows me, shall not walk in darkness.” Our “chief endeavour,” he then writes, should be to meditate upon the life of Christ. We ought to imitate his life and manners. Which may sound arrogant – except if one reads further.
But this meditation is not to find out what Christ did so impressively and to then also do it. The meditation upon Christs life is not about moralizing, about excelling in good deeds and producing works of merit.
We need to meditate upon the life of Christ, so that we can be liberated from the blindness of our heart. Our existence consists of desiring all the visible, material and corruptible matters like power, fame and pleasures. We have no vision of what really matters.
So, to be transformed from such an empty lifestyle, we need to conform our lives to the life of Christ. It is when we reflect on Christ that we discover the love of God.
This does not mean that we can explain or understand Christ. We do not meditate upon Christ’s life to develop intricate theological systems. Arrogance is evident in the lives of those who think “profoundly” about Christ, to produce deep thoughts about the Trinity, to argue carefully about the nature of contrition. One can know the whole Bible by heart and be steeped in philosophical thought, without living the mind of Christ, without feeling contrition in the divine presence, without a shred of love in one’s heart.
We arrogantly embrace vanities of the world, “except to love God and to serve Him only.” This is the real point of his introductory chapter. Not Christ, but Christ’s role in directing us to God’s love and inspiring us to serve God is what really matters. Christ brings in us an awareness of the invisible things, of the grace and goodness of God, of the divine presence.
Imitating Christ means wanting to sacrifice everything in us and around us, all the visible things that stand in the way of God presence.
Ultimately this is what Thomas’ book is about. He writes, encourages, reprimands so that we can enter into the presence of God, liberated from our arrogance and our empty claims.
By seeking conformity with Christ, we are transformed into the divine presence. Transformation is thus mediated by Christ.
I suspect that he thought of Thomas’ book in terms of its title, “Imitatio Christi,” which some, with a limited knowledge of Latin, could misunderstand as he did as meaning an arrogant attempt to claim for oneself a status far beyond what one can ever attain.
Except that this book, the most widely read book except for the Bible, does not even vaguely consider imitation as an arrogant attempt to be like Christ.
In the very first chapter, Thomas begins with a quotation from John 8:12, “he that follows me, shall not walk in darkness.” Our “chief endeavour,” he then writes, should be to meditate upon the life of Christ. We ought to imitate his life and manners. Which may sound arrogant – except if one reads further.
But this meditation is not to find out what Christ did so impressively and to then also do it. The meditation upon Christs life is not about moralizing, about excelling in good deeds and producing works of merit.
We need to meditate upon the life of Christ, so that we can be liberated from the blindness of our heart. Our existence consists of desiring all the visible, material and corruptible matters like power, fame and pleasures. We have no vision of what really matters.
So, to be transformed from such an empty lifestyle, we need to conform our lives to the life of Christ. It is when we reflect on Christ that we discover the love of God.
This does not mean that we can explain or understand Christ. We do not meditate upon Christ’s life to develop intricate theological systems. Arrogance is evident in the lives of those who think “profoundly” about Christ, to produce deep thoughts about the Trinity, to argue carefully about the nature of contrition. One can know the whole Bible by heart and be steeped in philosophical thought, without living the mind of Christ, without feeling contrition in the divine presence, without a shred of love in one’s heart.
We arrogantly embrace vanities of the world, “except to love God and to serve Him only.” This is the real point of his introductory chapter. Not Christ, but Christ’s role in directing us to God’s love and inspiring us to serve God is what really matters. Christ brings in us an awareness of the invisible things, of the grace and goodness of God, of the divine presence.
Imitating Christ means wanting to sacrifice everything in us and around us, all the visible things that stand in the way of God presence.
Ultimately this is what Thomas’ book is about. He writes, encourages, reprimands so that we can enter into the presence of God, liberated from our arrogance and our empty claims.
By seeking conformity with Christ, we are transformed into the divine presence. Transformation is thus mediated by Christ.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Mistakes in our spiritual journey.
Making mistakes is part and parcel of our daily experience. As human beings we know that we are fallible, prone to do wrong.
We often console ourselves with the popular wisdom that the important thing is not to not make mistakes, but to learn from our mistakes.
But sometimes we make mistakes that we regret so deeply that we cannot forgive ourselves for them. We ban the memories of such mistakes deep into our inner being where they often fester like sore wounds.
We remain aware of them. They are deeply painful, so much so that we often cannot bear even to think of them.
And, whilst we may be loving people, caring in our behaviour towards others, even to the point that we may forgive them for the worst of their bad mistakes, we often refuse to reconcile ourselves with our own mistakes of the past. We are hard on ourselves, unforgiving. We lack compassion. We love others, but we fail to heed the words that we should love ourselves. As a result we are stuck in the past, chained by the destructive.
The solution is to show compassion for ourselves. We should care for the wounds which we inflict on ourselves.
We show compassion by accepting what went horribly wrong.
It may be that we should make a conscious, simple decision to leave the bad mistakes behind by accepting them and move on with our lives.
Or showing compassion may mean to embrace them by recognising how they contributed to our spiritual progress, made us understand the deep forces in our lives and the need to live differently, closer to God.
Embracing one's mistakes by meditating on their role in the process of being pilgrims, can be therapeutic. We are often transformed through what we fail to do or through the hurt we cause. And to recognise the negative process of transformation, is in itself transformative.
We often console ourselves with the popular wisdom that the important thing is not to not make mistakes, but to learn from our mistakes.
But sometimes we make mistakes that we regret so deeply that we cannot forgive ourselves for them. We ban the memories of such mistakes deep into our inner being where they often fester like sore wounds.
We remain aware of them. They are deeply painful, so much so that we often cannot bear even to think of them.
And, whilst we may be loving people, caring in our behaviour towards others, even to the point that we may forgive them for the worst of their bad mistakes, we often refuse to reconcile ourselves with our own mistakes of the past. We are hard on ourselves, unforgiving. We lack compassion. We love others, but we fail to heed the words that we should love ourselves. As a result we are stuck in the past, chained by the destructive.
The solution is to show compassion for ourselves. We should care for the wounds which we inflict on ourselves.
We show compassion by accepting what went horribly wrong.
It may be that we should make a conscious, simple decision to leave the bad mistakes behind by accepting them and move on with our lives.
Or showing compassion may mean to embrace them by recognising how they contributed to our spiritual progress, made us understand the deep forces in our lives and the need to live differently, closer to God.
Embracing one's mistakes by meditating on their role in the process of being pilgrims, can be therapeutic. We are often transformed through what we fail to do or through the hurt we cause. And to recognise the negative process of transformation, is in itself transformative.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Transforming the deadly drudge of everday life
What is transformation?When does it take place? How does it look?
Our most mundane experiences can be transformed. There is no experience, no place or space which God cannot touch and change.
We often suffer through our days. Often we despair, caught up in a deadly, bleak routine, so to speak gasping for breath. The pace is tough, the outlook not promising. There is an inner tiredness. We dread the next day, the next week, what is waiting for us.
The mystic would say to those caught up in this tiring and tired lifestyle: find God in this deadly, depressive drudge.
This search for God in our lives practically means to search for a place of rest, to seek green pastures where one can lay down in quietness.
Literally it could mean to withdraw, to go somewhere to a place of separation, a quiet room where one can pray, where one can find peace, where one can have a quiet time of meditation and reflection.
Or, even more simple, it could simply mean to close one's eyes, or to look out of the window, or to glance up at the sky to think of God, just for that one short, brief moment of meditation, asking God to take the drudge, sanctify it and anchor one’s heart to inner peace.
Just that one fleeting moment of moving with my soul out of and away from the drudge.
It will not remove our drudge or rid us from it. But it will empower us to find the rest and quietness that we need to live life fully, meaningfully as we live through our drudging days.
It is that one moment of inhaling fresh, life-giving spiritual air, of opening oneself to the Holy Spirit in order to be sanctified - especially in our darkest despair.
This is one example of transformation.
Our most mundane experiences can be transformed. There is no experience, no place or space which God cannot touch and change.
We often suffer through our days. Often we despair, caught up in a deadly, bleak routine, so to speak gasping for breath. The pace is tough, the outlook not promising. There is an inner tiredness. We dread the next day, the next week, what is waiting for us.
The mystic would say to those caught up in this tiring and tired lifestyle: find God in this deadly, depressive drudge.
This search for God in our lives practically means to search for a place of rest, to seek green pastures where one can lay down in quietness.
Literally it could mean to withdraw, to go somewhere to a place of separation, a quiet room where one can pray, where one can find peace, where one can have a quiet time of meditation and reflection.
Or, even more simple, it could simply mean to close one's eyes, or to look out of the window, or to glance up at the sky to think of God, just for that one short, brief moment of meditation, asking God to take the drudge, sanctify it and anchor one’s heart to inner peace.
Just that one fleeting moment of moving with my soul out of and away from the drudge.
It will not remove our drudge or rid us from it. But it will empower us to find the rest and quietness that we need to live life fully, meaningfully as we live through our drudging days.
It is that one moment of inhaling fresh, life-giving spiritual air, of opening oneself to the Holy Spirit in order to be sanctified - especially in our darkest despair.
This is one example of transformation.
Friday, July 24, 2009
"I am in a relationship": About a key aspect of Spirituality
Cindy Davis: The Bride
In popular religion, the bond between God and humanity is often experienced as a contract: God is thought to demand, someone then responds and God acts according to this response. In our legalistic society this is almost a normal way of experiencing religion. We organise our religious lives as our secular existence in terms of rules, regulations, obligations, demands and contracts as binding agreements. We have the inclination to think of religion in terms of “We pray, so You pay.” And often we associate the “you pay” with God who will shower us abundantly with gifts and rewards. I tithe regularly, writes someone in a recent blog, but now my business is in a mess...," implying the question: where is my reward?
The same happens when our religion means “believing the truth” and when it consists of angrily rejecting those who teach falsely or differently from what we believe. In this case religion is about listing facts. But, then, one can name many facts about God without it making any difference in your life.
It seems so pious, so innocuous, to think of God in terms of blessing us with gifts where we worship God. But this attitude subtly shifts religion away from what it is.
One of the key elements of Spirituality is that it is about a relationship of God with humanity. We celebrate our experience of this relationship in our religion, because we have received the great gift of not being alone, having been made an Adam with Eve, of not being abandoned, having experienced resurrection after death.
And how important are relationships to us! On Facebook the “In a relationship” is a key phrase: it says something about your life. “I just got engaged” the beaming young woman announces to her colleagues. Suddenly, her life is changed, different, new.
Spirituality does not view the divine relationship in terms of a contract with rewards and punishments. Obviously God’s relationship implies that one lovingly seeks to live according to the divine will and that those who harm the relationship will feel the destructive consequences of their actions. And by times, God can spell out the destructive consequences to the relationship strongly, strictly and even vehemently. Spirituality strives to know the truth, but the truth is not merely about listing cold, hard facts. The truth is to be found in faith in the loving God that changes everything.
But all this is done to bring us to cherish our relationship with God. There is no other alternative, because it makes us truly human. The deep longing of a human being for intimacy, for belonging, is fulfilled in the divine outreach to us. And that alone is enough. That is what life is all about. Rather poor and in love, than rich and without love as life’s most fulfilling experience.
In Biblical Spirituality the link between the divine and human is relational: God, traditionally thought of as God the Father, Son and Spirit is as divine person relating to a human being as person. It is, in the words of Levinas, a face to face encounter. God stands before humanity, bringing us to ponder on the mystery of a loving, unselfish God who wishes to embrace the other in a fulfilling, transformative relationship. We see, in Christian Scriptures the face of this loving God: a Father who reaches out to a prodigal son, a Teacher who washes the feet of disciples, a Seafarer, stilling storms and removing fear, a Revealer who reassures those in anguish of paradise where tears are wiped off tired faces, a Prisoner who forbids angry retaliation and heals an ear. The divine relationship asks only love, for humanity to be loving like this loving God. This relationship brings us to stand in awe and love before the face of the Other.
How crude, then, to think of God in terms of a contract: I have rights and they imply that the other party should perform. You have obligations to which you will adhere. If this was so, why did the loving God always call for repentance and sanctification? We are not engaged in studying and applying contracts. We are on a spiritual journey with the One who reaches out to us and spurs us on, all the time, to become more human, more loving, more aware of how precious it is to live from face to face.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
To experience God's presence. On spirituality and transformation
On being conscious of transformation
An artist takes a piece of clay which has no form. It is a big, heavy blob, without form and pattern. The artist looks at it, feels it, forms it and creates a sculpture from it. The clay can do nothing at all in this process of its transformation. It is being transformed.
Spirituality as faith experienced brings about an awareness that this is exactly how humanity is being transformed. The prophet is told in Jeremiah 18 to see how the potter forms a clay pot. Yahweh then says to Israel – “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so ae you in my hand, O Israel.”
Meister Eckhart (1260-1328) was one of the most sophisticated mystics of the Christian era. He underlines the immense gap between God, who is so totally different and exalted, and humanity. We cannot fathom God and our language is completely inadequate to describe God. And yet, he can also speak of the intimate relationship that God establishes with humanity. He writes that something in his deepest inner being tells him that no one and nothing is so close to him as God is. He is in his inner being completely dependent on God. His whole existence depends on God’s closeness to him and the divine presence in him. Of course, he adds, God is also there for a stone and a piece of wood. But a stone and a piece of wood is not aware of God’s presence. If only they knew it, the rock and the piece of wood would have been more blessed than angels.
Bricks and blocks do not know that God transforms. People with hearts of stone also do not know this. (And therefore create gods of stone and wood in their own image). It is only when one allows God’s voice, that you come to experience this. You cannot find this on your own. It must be brought to your attention. Softly, gently God speaks about this: listen, hear this, pay attention: you are renewed, peace will enter your heart, love will inhabit your heart if only you acknowledge your Maker, the One who Forms you into the divine image.
A firm part of Spirituality is transformation. But transformation has to be appropiated. We need to experience the mystery that God transforms us. It is only then that the great interaction takes place, that the spark ignites our soul and we experience the Divine Presence in us.
One has to be aware, in wonder and amazement, of the divine transformation. The dull, heavy heart will not be transformed. It will remain heavy like a blob of clay and hard like a block of wood.
Transformation has to be contemplated,reflected, appropriated. The sparks of the new divine life cannot fly if there is no connection....
An artist takes a piece of clay which has no form. It is a big, heavy blob, without form and pattern. The artist looks at it, feels it, forms it and creates a sculpture from it. The clay can do nothing at all in this process of its transformation. It is being transformed.
Spirituality as faith experienced brings about an awareness that this is exactly how humanity is being transformed. The prophet is told in Jeremiah 18 to see how the potter forms a clay pot. Yahweh then says to Israel – “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so ae you in my hand, O Israel.”
Meister Eckhart (1260-1328) was one of the most sophisticated mystics of the Christian era. He underlines the immense gap between God, who is so totally different and exalted, and humanity. We cannot fathom God and our language is completely inadequate to describe God. And yet, he can also speak of the intimate relationship that God establishes with humanity. He writes that something in his deepest inner being tells him that no one and nothing is so close to him as God is. He is in his inner being completely dependent on God. His whole existence depends on God’s closeness to him and the divine presence in him. Of course, he adds, God is also there for a stone and a piece of wood. But a stone and a piece of wood is not aware of God’s presence. If only they knew it, the rock and the piece of wood would have been more blessed than angels.
Bricks and blocks do not know that God transforms. People with hearts of stone also do not know this. (And therefore create gods of stone and wood in their own image). It is only when one allows God’s voice, that you come to experience this. You cannot find this on your own. It must be brought to your attention. Softly, gently God speaks about this: listen, hear this, pay attention: you are renewed, peace will enter your heart, love will inhabit your heart if only you acknowledge your Maker, the One who Forms you into the divine image.
A firm part of Spirituality is transformation. But transformation has to be appropiated. We need to experience the mystery that God transforms us. It is only then that the great interaction takes place, that the spark ignites our soul and we experience the Divine Presence in us.
One has to be aware, in wonder and amazement, of the divine transformation. The dull, heavy heart will not be transformed. It will remain heavy like a blob of clay and hard like a block of wood.
Transformation has to be contemplated,reflected, appropriated. The sparks of the new divine life cannot fly if there is no connection....
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The divine transformation.
Spirituality has transformation as a key word. In Spirituality we reflect on the divine touch which changes humanity. Very often we identify this transformation as an experience of being born again. We then use all the well-known terms like repentance and acceptance of Jesus as one's Saviour.
But transformation is a word with many dimensions. The story of creation begins with God who creates and transforms a formless and empty earth (Gen.1:2!)into a beautiful universe with a garden as its centre. The beauty is time and again underlined through the refrain: God saw that it was good.
God's transformative actions are therefore seen in creation right from the very beginning of our existence. Long before any human being repents, God reaches out, touches, forms, fills, creates and brings about sheer beauty.It is a process, it is transformation. It is renewal.
Creation reflects God's life-giving touch,God's life-giving transformation of our world into existence.
But if Biblical Spirituality places transformation at the beginning of time and creation, it also speaks of human life as a product of transformation from the start. In Psalm 139:13-16 the Psalmist praises God for creating his inmost being. He was "in a secret place" (vers 15), in the depths of the earth (verse 16). His body was "unformed" (verse 16). Yet, despite being there, God saw him (vrse 16). What no one else could see, God did not miss. And then God knit him together in his mother's womb (verse 13). And again, in verse 15, "I was woven together." God transforms the unformed.
The spiritual journey is underway long before we are aware of it. We are being transformed long before our repentance. God touches us when even our mother is not aware of our existence.
Transformation is a divine gift. Repentance, proclaiming Jesus as Saviour, is a faltering, frail exclamation on our part with which we try to celebrate the unfathomable love of God for us even in our unnoticed unborn state. It is a love which begins before we exist and which happens long before we even think to repent. It is a love which forms us into a beautiful canvas, planned, prepared and finally painted by God. Our very existence, our creation, is God's transformation of us.
One stands bewildered before this mystery "I am feafully and wonderfully made" (verse 14). God's works are wonderful (verse 14), also because "all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be" (verse 16).
Sprituality is about transformation. Transformation seems to be such an easy word, almost like "repentance" which we often use so glibly. But the Biblical material about creation teaches us to think deeply about transformation. There is a depth to transformation that surpasses all our understanding. Spirituality wants to make us aware of the mystery of transformation. As a mystery, it is permeated with grace. Transformation is God's free gift to humanity, driven by divine love.
We should not claim too much for ourselves or be too proud of repentance. Perhaps we need to be more restrained, aware of the miracle of transformation. It should bring us to more praise and less pride about our own spiritual excellence.
Transformation overwhelms us, because it is given to us from before the beginning of time and our existence, before we are aware that we are being transformed. It is a miraculous gift which inspires us to admire the powerful presence of the divine in creation.
But transformation is a word with many dimensions. The story of creation begins with God who creates and transforms a formless and empty earth (Gen.1:2!)into a beautiful universe with a garden as its centre. The beauty is time and again underlined through the refrain: God saw that it was good.
God's transformative actions are therefore seen in creation right from the very beginning of our existence. Long before any human being repents, God reaches out, touches, forms, fills, creates and brings about sheer beauty.It is a process, it is transformation. It is renewal.
Creation reflects God's life-giving touch,God's life-giving transformation of our world into existence.
But if Biblical Spirituality places transformation at the beginning of time and creation, it also speaks of human life as a product of transformation from the start. In Psalm 139:13-16 the Psalmist praises God for creating his inmost being. He was "in a secret place" (vers 15), in the depths of the earth (verse 16). His body was "unformed" (verse 16). Yet, despite being there, God saw him (vrse 16). What no one else could see, God did not miss. And then God knit him together in his mother's womb (verse 13). And again, in verse 15, "I was woven together." God transforms the unformed.
The spiritual journey is underway long before we are aware of it. We are being transformed long before our repentance. God touches us when even our mother is not aware of our existence.
Transformation is a divine gift. Repentance, proclaiming Jesus as Saviour, is a faltering, frail exclamation on our part with which we try to celebrate the unfathomable love of God for us even in our unnoticed unborn state. It is a love which begins before we exist and which happens long before we even think to repent. It is a love which forms us into a beautiful canvas, planned, prepared and finally painted by God. Our very existence, our creation, is God's transformation of us.
One stands bewildered before this mystery "I am feafully and wonderfully made" (verse 14). God's works are wonderful (verse 14), also because "all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be" (verse 16).
Sprituality is about transformation. Transformation seems to be such an easy word, almost like "repentance" which we often use so glibly. But the Biblical material about creation teaches us to think deeply about transformation. There is a depth to transformation that surpasses all our understanding. Spirituality wants to make us aware of the mystery of transformation. As a mystery, it is permeated with grace. Transformation is God's free gift to humanity, driven by divine love.
We should not claim too much for ourselves or be too proud of repentance. Perhaps we need to be more restrained, aware of the miracle of transformation. It should bring us to more praise and less pride about our own spiritual excellence.
Transformation overwhelms us, because it is given to us from before the beginning of time and our existence, before we are aware that we are being transformed. It is a miraculous gift which inspires us to admire the powerful presence of the divine in creation.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
What is spirituality?
Spirituality is a buzz word which can mean many things.
In its simplest form, spirituality is about a living faith. It is faith experienced. This description reflects an awareness that faith is much more than believing some facts about God. With this description spirituality is approached from the perspective of the one who believes.
This simple description can be expanded by filling in more detail and by allowing for more perspectives. Spirituality thus can be seen as the divine encounter with humanity. God reaches out to establish a relationship with humanity. The result is that humanity is transformed. But Spirituality is about an ongoing process of transformation.
Each and every spirituality will fill in these perspectives in a specific manner. People will experience God differently (as a judge, as Love, as Righteousness, etc.). People will be transformed in various ways: Mother Theresa and Franciscus reach out to the poor, Thomas Merton becomes a Trappist monk. The process will be different: some will experience deep anguish and stress throughout their spiritual journeys. Others, like Paul, became successful proclaimers of the Word and moved from place to place.
Faith changes everything. Forever. And it moves you to places you never dreamt of. More about this later.
In its simplest form, spirituality is about a living faith. It is faith experienced. This description reflects an awareness that faith is much more than believing some facts about God. With this description spirituality is approached from the perspective of the one who believes.
This simple description can be expanded by filling in more detail and by allowing for more perspectives. Spirituality thus can be seen as the divine encounter with humanity. God reaches out to establish a relationship with humanity. The result is that humanity is transformed. But Spirituality is about an ongoing process of transformation.
Each and every spirituality will fill in these perspectives in a specific manner. People will experience God differently (as a judge, as Love, as Righteousness, etc.). People will be transformed in various ways: Mother Theresa and Franciscus reach out to the poor, Thomas Merton becomes a Trappist monk. The process will be different: some will experience deep anguish and stress throughout their spiritual journeys. Others, like Paul, became successful proclaimers of the Word and moved from place to place.
Faith changes everything. Forever. And it moves you to places you never dreamt of. More about this later.
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