Happiness

There is something unique and special about the Sermon on the Mount which Jesus shared with his Jewish audience many centuries ago in such a simple way somewhere in the small, unacclaimed land of Palestine. Words of wisdom which through the ages speak of the divine gift of love to all, without considering their status and worth.

One can simply read the words over and over again, without commenting about them. They carry their power in themselves. No need to explain them.


Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.
Bliss, joy and happiness are here associated with people we do not normally consider to be joyful. The poor, those who mourn, the hungry, the oppressed, the persecuted.


In times of adversity, one can still be happy. Happiness cannot be destroyed by those who criticize and insult. It remains with us in the good and the bad times.

Rejoice and be glad! Jesus calls out to the poor of the land who sit before him, listening to this man of love. Experience the bliss, you blessed ones. What you are as the beloved of God, feel it, experience it, live it. You are the ones who should embrace the joy which God grants you. You are the happy ones, not the kings and the emperors and the powerful in the land and the church.

Joy is intricately connected with our experience that God lives with us and in us. And happiness is even deeper because no one can take it away from us. No bitter word, no angry attack, no sneering remark can cut us off from God’s love which lives in us. Happiness is the experience that there is a space in us where God is present in intimate love.

It is something that should not remain words on paper, words in a speech. It should enter our innermost being and remind us that the One who spoke it, is the One who is still murmuring those words from within our hearts to us. Live the joy.

The open arms...

Peppermint Patty in the Charlie Brown Peanuts strip has always been a favourite of mine.

Here she is down in the dumps. Lying on her arms, depressed, wishing aloud that someone who knows would be with her in her dark night of the soul...

And all the time, next to her, stands the poor Charlie Brown. Christ-like, without a word, he understands her and finally opens his arms to her. To be with her, even though she did not see him as the answer....

He knows....

Schulz never wanted to be sentimental about Christianity. No big deal kicks and easy solutions. His children characters are wonderful illustrations of the spiritual journey. And don't think kids do not know.

They know that faith does not fall from heaven.They know that answers do not always come easily. They also sigh and groan and yearn and yearn.

And sometimes they discover with relief, surprise and joy that the answer is there amidst the dark night of the soul - if one only asks for it and seeks it and yields to it.

Open arms...

The richness of the spiritual life

The spiritual journey and sanctification are often closely linked – and with good reason. Spirituality is about the divine relationship with humanity in which people grow deeper by the day and which means that one lives according to the will of God, as it was expressed, amongst others in the divine commandments. One has to be obedient to God and do what God wants.

But sanctification is but one small part of the spiritual journey. This is clear when we reflect on sanctification as it is used in the Bible. Sanctification is only one aspect of a holy life. One is made holy by the Holy God, God is holy and is also the model of holiness, we live a holy calling, grow in holiness and learn to obey and seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit. And the new life in Christ, we know is also more than about holiness.

We discover the fuller picture when we study the New Devotion as movement from which Thomas a Kempis’ Imitation of Christ was born. The spiritual journey comprised, for example, in the New Devotion of Geert Grote at least four dimensions:

First of all the New Devotion in particular focussed on Christ. The spiritual journey consisted of a continuous consciousness of the intimate relationship with God in Christ. This explains why Thomas a Kempis would write his famous Imitation of Christ. It meant concretely that one’s heart is always focussed on Christ.

The relationship of love with Christ implies secondly that one allocates the primary place in the spiritual journey to texts about Christ. Not church traditions, nor pronounements and teachings of the offices or great thinkers, but the Bible is the source of the spiritual journey. And one does not read the Bible to “know” more. One reads it out of love, for its love and to love more. That is why one lovingly makes the Bible your own, reflects on it and meditates on it. In the time of the New Devotion its members did this as part of a group at at least five specific slots every day, but also on their own, in their quiet time, in a disciplined and ordered manner. The Bible was the book of life, the guide for the spiritual life for the New Devotion. And when they focussed on the Bible as the space of Christ, they broke in a radical way with the spiritual life as it was propagated in the church of their time in which theological speculation and debates were the focal point.

Only then, thirdly, did the New Devotion emphasise the moral life and sanctification. The reading of Scripture brought one to love God and others. Scripture reading transforms one’s life and this is what one should seek. Everything else, all the theological debates and scoring of points, was nothing else but empty talk, a seeking of vain glory, a matter of idle curiosity.

Finally, there was, and this is most intriguing, the desire for interiority. Interiority is a major issue in spirituality. Some say that the motif of interiority is what distinguishes spirituality, others think that it creates problems (google the remarks of Sheldrake on interiority). But interiority is about awareness of God’s presence, praying, being in silence, inner reflection.

Interiority is about withdrawing from daily life for the sake of experiencing the divine presence, inner devotion in silence and prayer, reflection. We could also call it “quiet time.” Our spiritual journey is about the quiet quest for a true worship of God, to await the touch of God.

Sanctification does not happen if God does not touch us, visit us, purify us and heal us. We do not discover and attain holiness. We receive it as a gift and make it our own by interiorising it. The spiritual life is rich with many dimensions. To think of it in a moralising way as the doing of good deeds, is to give up the richness of faith. The New Devotion helps us rediscover our spiritual heritage as much richer than this. It is not only about being holy. We recognise the spiritual journey as a life in the love of Christ, driven by the Biblical message of transformation, to desire to be like Christ (conformation) and the waiting on God’s presence in us. If we remember this, we will not easily fall into the trap of moralising.

The rare birds of our times

Respect for the other is a fundamental virtue. One must have respect for people who think and act differently. It is, in fact, fascinating that people differ so radically from one another.

It is because people are so different that some of the most important changes in the history of our world took place. Because people differ from each other, great strides were made in the history of humanity.

In this regard, we should learn from the past. There are many examples of highly idiosyncratic individuals who stood out from the normal crowds. They were the rare birds of their times. They did not accept the norms and values of the societies in which they lived. They thought very differently than others.

Because of this they were punished, persecuted and even killed.

And often the church was leading the killing mob.

If Galileo simply accepted the “truth” of the church and succumbed to its threats and monolithic abuse of power, we would not have had the Copernican revolution with all the wonderful advantages of our technological age.

And if Luther was defeated by those who hated him so much that they wanted to kill him, if he did not remain true to his deepest inner feelings, we would most probably still burn witches today.

The reformation contributed to the enlightenment of society, educated the masses and questioned authoritarian thinking.

And although Luther was very human, very fallible, even violent in language and behaviour, he set in motion a revolution that would change the face of the world.

Most importantly, the monk from Germany was a brave and fearless fighter for his inner convictions. In this, he sets an example and shows later generations how important it is to test and heed the prophets.

If his voice and the voice of Galileo had been silenced....

It is not merely a matter of tolerating the others who differ from us. It is also a matter of learning from them with interest: let us listen to those who speak differently, strangely, unusually. May they not be speaking truths prophetically?

One may even take this further: let us remind ourselves of the prophets or Hebrew Scriptures who were killed for their truths.

Or, let us reflect on the life of that unique, strange, rare, unusual Jewish bachelor from the silly little town of Nazareth who found out, two millenia ago, how dangerous it was to take on the big shots of his time, those very religious authorities and fathers of the people in Jerusalem.

If we do, we may just be and get closer to the truth...

We are then driven by our love for the deeper insights, the divine truth that comes to us over many years in different ways and through the strange lives of the rare birds of our times. To have respect for the other, to heed the prophets, is an indication of our love for God who wants to keep reforming us and brings us in a closer relationship with the divine.

Fascinating memory - immersed in the Bible

It is only when we get to foreign countries where we cannot read notice boards that we appreciate our culture of reading. In China or Russia, the tourist quickly discovers how frustrating it can be not to be able to read the language. Where is a hotel, the station, the hospital? Often reading can become a matter of life and death.

Books are so obvious and normal to us, that we fail to appreciate those cultures which existed before book printing made books available to most people. We need to defamiliarize ourselves in a similar manner in order to understand previous centuries and how they were educated. The ordinary person in the twelfth and thirteenth century did not have books. It was mostly the clergy and some privileged people who could own books and read them. Manuscripts were expensive. In fact, many monasteries, where hand written books were produced, generated a good income because they produced manuscripts of the Bible and even classical authors and sold their products at high prices to the rich, famous and powerful people of their times.

The paralysing result of not being able to read wass, for example, an important reason why Geerte Grote, the founder of the New Devotion, empowered laypeople in the fourteenth century to read. He wanted most of all for them to be able to live close to Scripture.

But what did people do without school books or libraries? They memorised them. People were trained to memorize texts, following rules laid down by classical authors like Aristotle and Cicero. It was a much debated and intensely practiced educational matter. One could even speak of a science of memorising. The training of the memory received as much attention as the training of one’s body in contemporary sport centres and gymnasia.

One could roughly distinguish two phases:

Texts were broken up, firstly, in shorter units, learned and then integrated in a system. Units were numbered in order. Books of the Bible were first learnt word for word, bit by bit. Or to be more precise, they even broke up the words in its syllables and learnt them mechanically by heart. They were then tested and asked to recite the text. They even had to perform the text in reverse order, or to leave out certain units from a section they had to recite. Thus they had to recite, for example, units 11 to 18 without 12 to fourteen. A favourite book was the Psalms, which took an average of two to three years to memorize. Students of the Bible would generally know the Psalms by heart. The main aim of this first approach was for a student to recite a text mechanically in order. It was like in some stages of education where students were asked to learn their tables before they actually did any mathematics.

Then, in a second step, one integrated this first memory with a second one in which one focussed on the meaning of the texts which one had memorised in the first phase. Students then had to combine texts that belong together. The process flows naturally from the first phase. If one knows a text by heart, it soon happens that one understand that the law in Psalm 1 is also mentioned in Psalm 119. Themes like arrogance, the temple, the Exodus would all be addressed in different texts and could then be systematised together. It is in this second phase that one begins to interiorize a text. What one can recite mechanically, is now digested and understood in a deeper sense of the word. One then “composes” a new text, so to speak. It is on this point that one becomes an artist who creatively discovers the “meaning” of a text. The main aim of this second approach was to empower students to move texts around and combine them in terms of what they mean.

When one reads about this praxis of memorising, one understands why someone like Thomas a Kempis’ Imitation of Christ is so steeped in Biblical language. He was educated in this culture of memorising. In such a culture one is deeply immersed in a text. You live with a text for a number of years, are able to recite it almost in your sleep and are constantly reminded of how parts of this text interact and determine each other. Thomas a Kempis was steeped in this culture of memorising. For every moment of his life, he could cite a word from Scripture. It is like in our modern pop culture where people can recall a popular song or even a whole lot of them, for every possible mood they experience. They know the words. Thomas a Kempis had this immersion – the Bible, as his Imitation reveals, was for him the fountain of inspiration. Without it this work would not have been written.

Geert Grote: living a life of love

Thomas a Kempis wrote his Imitation of Christ from within the New Devotion as a movement which sought to renew the believing community in its inner life. Thomas was influenced by the remarkable Geert Grote (1340-1384) and the Brother and Sisters of the Common Life. Some even say he was the author of the Imitation of Christ and not Thomas.

Geert Grote came from a rich family. He studied from the age of fifteen in Paris for many years in what was a leisurely, priviliged lifestyle. He had a wide education in fine arts, theology, medicine and law, but was also interested in astrology and magic. In some ways he was a typical student – not completing his some of his subjects.

He had everything he could desire and he was willing to work hard. He enjoyed a good education, status, possessions – which meant that a promising future awaited him. And then, indeed, at the age of thirty, he was appointed as a professor.

He, however, had a religious experience which changed his life. In 1372 at the age of 32, he became very ill. In fact, he even asked for the last sacraments. The priest refused to give him absolution unless he burnt his books of magic. After this was done, his health was restored.

He gave up most of his possessions, withdrew to a monastery (but without becoming a monk or priest) where he spent three years, reading important theological works.

Then his life ran a course of its own and developed in a rather unexpected manner. He took to the streets with his simple message. Grote is best known for his intinerary preaching in the Netherlands. He worked with laypeople, stressing inner renewal which should be sought with honest passion. No big theology for him.

He seems also to have been reluctant to reflect on mysticism as union with God – as his mystical predecessors. Geert knew all about it, but it was the experience of faith, spirituality in its truest sense that he desired. His was the simple way of practical love. It was, however, not a sentimental love. Geert could use strong language – love, after all, should sometimes also be tough. But his praxis, his involvement in other peoples’ lives proves how much he cared for them.

And his method for the spiritual journey was simple: One should immerse yourself in the life of Christ and then seek to internalise this life in your own life. Two wonderful streams flow together: Interiorisation and praxis.

The response to this simple message was overwhelming. Many found his message so inspiring that they formed groups. Thus began the Brothers and Sisters of the Common Life. No offices, not big shots, no power struggles. Just and simply brothers and sisters who share their lives of faith.

Mystics are not alway popular (see my other blog on this). A mystic who attacks clerics for their wordly lifestyle can expect even less sympathy. And when Geert’s message began to spread like wildfire, the red lights were on. Thus, to no surprise, he was officially banned from preaching by jealous colleagues. He did not oppose the ban, even accepted that and urged his bitter followers to obey it too. It is not certin how long the ban was imposed, but what is clear is that the church authorities resented his popularity, his influence and his authority.

There are so many writings about Geert Grote – Thomas a Kempis wrote a beautiful biography. So why write about it here? Because in my own reading one particular, rather unknown fact came to the fore. Geert Grote was a reader of the Bible. His preaching was Biblical preaching (sometimes twice a day for three hours each!). Scripture was at the very heart of his life. He wanted people to read the Bible.

For him, though, it was not picking up a Bible and reading it – it was also a matter of having a reliable Bible. For this purpose he collected many Biblical manuscripts from churches and monasteries and started drawing up a reliable text. He compared manuscripts, weighed the different readings and selected those which offered the best readings.

Here one sees how his learning and erudition are linked with his faith. Learning, scholarship are not only useful, for the spirtual journey it is essential. Grote was not anti-intellectual. It was because of his influence as a researcher of the Biblical text that Thomas a Kempis had a special attachment with the Bible (cf. an earlier blog). Thomas followed Grote by also copying and writing out a Bible manuscript for his own use. Grote spent hours writing his own manuscript and impressed people with his end product, written in excellent calligraphy. Later on, universities in the Netherlands who contribute important scientific work on the text of the Bible in line with research begun by Grote.

A life of love? In 1383 the plague broke out in Europe. Geert Grote, fearlessly, visits the dying and the sick and nurse them. The following year the plague rages even more intensely. In August he becomes sick and dies shortly thereafter. Only 45 years old. A young man, but a key person in the history of Christianity.



We have no paintings / pictures of Groote, but this is what he wrote:

Happiness

The quest for happiness is ingrained in our human nature. As a result there are many desperate attempts in our societies to be happy. In this regard I keep on thinking about a pronouncement by Bono about his concerts. He said he sees thousands of people at his live performances who pretend to be happy, but he knows deep inside they are desperately unhappy.

His words reminded me of the lyrics of Our Lady Peace – a hugely popular Canadian band who, normally can be tough, but always with a bit of happiness suggested in their lyrics. Their song "Happiness is not a fish you can catch" is a fascinating revelation about contemporary existence:

I confess
Everyone is overweight
And I'm obsessed
Talking is just masturbating
Without the mess
Addiction leaves you sad today
& unimpressed
I can't remember all the names because
Everyone you meet today
Is just so fucking vain

Bored again by happiness
All those friends I've (die) lost in there

I'm upset
Happiness is not a fish
That you can catch
Imagination can't resist
This laziness
That pins you down, get on your knees
Everyone you meet today
Is feeling useless & ashamed

What a song. And what a final "note": “Everyone you meet today is feeling useless and ashamed.” This is the face of our world. But even more striking is the “bored again by happiness.” The sort of happiness we do find, is the fleeting one, the temporary moment, the boring experience which leaves us still sadder and useless and ashamed.

In the quest for happiness we avoid anything which can disturb us or distress us. And for many that includes religion. With its focus on sin, its questioning of things we appreciate, its demand for a virtuous life and love for the neighbour, religion seems to be contrary to happiness. And because we long for happiness and desire it here and now, Christianity with its message about future happiness seems to dope us to remain unhappy in our present existence.

Just as natural as our desire is to be happy here and now, just as natural is it that we are doomed to be unhappy. Our bodies, as Thomas Aquinas also said in his Summa Theologica, alone is a reason why we should not be so romantic about happiness in the here and the now – if I may paraphrase his thougths (the overweight en addiction of Our Lady Peace!). Our imperfect knowledge is the reason for many disasaters, wrong actions. And our lack of virtue causes great distress – not only to others, but mostly to ourselves. Even if we desire it deeply, happiness is by our very nature most of the times simply out of our reach.

The truly great understood this. And yet Jesus speaks about a certain kind of happiness that one can experience. He does promise happiness and joy for the future, for sure. But happiness is not a carrot which we have to chase donkey-wise in a fruitless race. Blessed, blessed, Jesus said, are those who... mourn and suffer and are poor. No sentimentality here. No romantic pink roses and white lilies. No boredom. In the hardness of life, in the deep suffering, one can discover inner peace. In the presence of the simple words of Christ, on the mountain of peace and quiet, where life is made calm by his loving nearness. Now, in the poverty of their simple home, in the scorching heat of Palestine, away from the grand temple, now can one come to rest in simplicity of existence away from evil.

Surely Jesus also speaks about future happiness. Jesus spoke to his followers about the coming happiness in the kingdom of the Father – when we shall be in perfect harmony and happiness. We grow towards a greater experience of joy, we live a life of joy amidst suffering, always maturing in our understanding of how frail, but how real happiness can be – even when we have to embrace our suffering. But we also know from the gospel that there will be a time that our joy will be completed in love, given to us in all its fullness. In the meantime, we have to travel, we are involved in a spiritual journey which in itself a happy matter. A treasure hunt. Finding the moments of joy in unexpected and expected places.

All this is not about the happiness of the fleeting, good moments, the “highs” which we have when we experience good things. They are fleeting, they are over – ever so quickly. It is about another kind of joy.

It is the joy of being part of God’s eternal world and holy space. There is a quiet place where we can live in the divine presence. It is the desert of the prophets, where they go to hear the eternal, life creating word. It is the desert of the monks, where they go in retreat to find union with God. It is the harsh desert of our world today which God loves so passionately and which we need to make a place of beauty again. It is a place where love abounds. It is a place of happiness.

The 1,7 million euro Sunday in Regensburg

We were told earlier in the week how special the music in the cathedral in Regensburg is. A famous choir performs regularly there. So, eager for good music, we set out to attend the service in the beautiful old church.

The church is packed. It is a busy meeting with many tourists who attend. They even attend with their bags and leave whenever they want to. Clearly people long for such a setting, they respect the ambience of this famous place, admire its beauty and is inspired by its spirituality.

The organ is special and the music inspiring. The professor of music at the University is the organist and he is clearly a gifted person.

After the service he speaks about the new organ which is being built and for which the church is asking donations to cover the costs (1,7 million euros).

1,7 million euros. For an organ.

Afterwards we head home. We are not in a hurry. We stop at a little restaurant where we buy an Apfeltorte for our Sunday morning tea back home. Then we cycle through the old city – it is a world heritage site.

It is a leisurely trip, beautiful to experience.

But I keep on thinking about the 1,7 million euros.

Relaxed and at peace, we follow our noses. And, as is to be expected, we are soon lost. At a stage we have to trace our steps. We cycle on the sidewalk on the wrong side of the road. From the front a German lady approaches. When she sees us, she calls out that the police have just stopped a group of people who were cycling on that sidewalk. And indeed, we see the group as they stand and wait for their fine to be written out. Thankful for the warning, we jump from our bicycles. I can imagine in this land of law and order that a hefty fine will cut deeply into our budget.

But I keep on thinking about the 1,7 million euros. Spent on an organ in a church.

Whilst milions of people go hungry or die of diseases because of poverty.

But can one deny a first world church the beauty of wonderful organ music? I think of my inspiring visits to the cathedral in Zurich with its amazing Chagall windows. Is it not art which opens our eyes for the deeper values? Is it not the impressive work of Da Vinci (Madonna and child!), Michelangelo, Rembrandt and so many others, paid for by the wealthy, which brings people to understand what humanity is all about?

But 1,7 million euros?

For an organ in a church?

In our times?

Is this where the church wants to be?

And can we point a finger to the church? When we climb into our SVU’s and our aeroplance for our summer holiday vacations in the Caribbean? Whilst millions of people die of hunger?

And I know the German churches are among the most liberal donors to special causes worldwide.


Maybe, I think, this can still be done today when a church that spends 1,7 million euros on an organ at least raises the same amount to alleviate poverty.


And yet, after I have read the mystics for some time now, I wonder.

Driven by love...

There is only one painting of Da Vinci in Germany. It is the Madonna and Child which can be seen in the Alte Pinakothek in Munich.

It is a small painting, but highly regarded because Leonardo used techniques which were innovative.

It is a beautiful painting, with Mary’s braided hair, the striking colours and the wonderful shades of light on the two main characters.

But the painting is so special because it portrays an intimate, loving relationship between mother and child.

In the painting Leonardo managed through intricate techniques to paint a carnation in the middle of the painting.


Note the detail:
























The carnation is a very important symbol. The viewer who knows the symbolism will understand how this carnation changes the message of the painting drastically. The carnation was namely in those times a symbol of Christ’s suffering and passion.

The little baby reaches out to take the carnation held by his mother from her hand.

I listened to the commentary as I look at the painting: Leonardo gave a mystical dimension to his painting when he added the carnation. Later on, I am told, he refrained from such symbolism. As he mastered his art, he wanted to paint what he saw, what he experienced, what can be checked and counter-checked.

How sad. What one sees in Christ is not always what you get. Many may see, as I did, only the little fat baby who is cuddled by a loving mother. One could be impressed by it, even be fascinated by it.

But when you look closer, more intently, you discover the carnation, the passion.

One has to know the deeper dimension, the hidden matters. It changes you and transforms your life.

As one reflects on Christ as the baby, one sees the shadow of the cross falling over his innocent childhood. His incarnation indeed means to be born in suffering – the eternal God presented in the body of humanity. The divine self-sacrifice, the giving up of the heavenly glory, the sharing, the taking on of suffering. And then, still a small baby, reaching out, willingly, with a frail little baby hand, to take on suffering.

Here one recognises suffering written over the existence of even the most innocent of innocent ones.

No one, not a single human, however small, however frail, however innocent is exempt from suffering.

And yet, on closer reflection, we know how love frames suffering into a beautiful painting.

Love changes everything. Divine love is transformative love, love that wants to heal and integrate.

We cope with suffering because we love. We can even embrace suffering out of love. This is the deeper message: everything we do, however extreme, has meaning if it is done in love.

I look at the painting more carefully. The light which illuminates the baby is stronger, brighter. He stands out in his love.

It fascinates me, but I realize it also brings me to stand in awe.

Dürer, Christ and mysticsim.

We visited the Alte Pinakothek in Munich for the first time after four years. This time I am struck by the famous painting of the four apostles by Dürer which he painted in 1526 when he was 55 years old. His mastery is evident. It is probably one of his best paintings. It was probably also one of his last paintings.

Dürer, at that stage already famous, writes humbly in an accompanying letter to the council of Nürenberg to whom he wanted to donate the painting, that he was not always so happy with his paintings - they were insignificant and not so special. He has, however, he adds, not spent so much time and trouble to another of his paintings as on this one.

He evidently felt good about it.

There are several verses from the Bible in this painting. Prominent is the quotation from Revelation 22:18. No one should add anything to the Word - and then understood as the Word of God.

With this painting Dürer wanted to warn against false prophecy, as many commentators say, but especially against authorities who exalt themselves above God's word. Obedience to the word of God is more important than obedience to any authority.

The painting promoted the reformation of Maarten Luther. The quotations in the painting are therefore also from Luther's translation of the Bible.

To support the reformation was a risk. But Dürer admired Luther. He writes that Luther helped to liberate him from many great anxieties. He found peace through the Reformation.

It is, therefore, not without reason that Peter is painted in the background. In front of the left panel, is John the Evangelist. He and Peter are both reading from Scripture! And, to crown all, they are reading John's own Gospel 1:1: "In the beginning was the Word"... No papal authority for Peter here in this painting.

The message was so clear that later, when Maximillian, Bavarian ruler and admirer of Dürer acquired the paintings, he promptly had the verses at the bottom cut off. The message they conveyed was insulting to him as catholic ruler, he claimed. So (fortunately) he sent them back to the council of Nurnberg.

On the right panel stands Paul, also with a Bible and leaning on his sword (a reference to his death) and Mark at the back. They stare in front of them.

It is the position of John and Peter that struck me today in the Alte Pinakothek in Munich when I saw the painting for the third time. They are both deeply immersed in the text, which they are reading. They are lost in the text, oblivious of their surroundings.

Our guide tells us: this is meditation. This is immersion in the Bible. Dürer, the great and famous artist of the Reformation knew well that the Bible was not merely an intellectual book with historical and theological information, telling us what to believe about God. The Bible becomes the living Word of God, claiming us so completely that we forget about everything (ec - stacy). It is the source of life which fascinates us, renews us and mediates the presence of God in our lives. It binds us with Christ, the One who reflects the divine presence. In this Dürer was strongly influenced by Luther, who had a special appreciation for the Gospel of John since it focusses so strongly on Christ.


I see this meditative posture for the first time in this painting.

The thoughts remain with me as I wander through the Alte Pinakothek. And my fascination is increased by the self-portrait of Dürer in the same hall. It is an impressive painting, but here too, the religious message is hard to overlook. There is a strong theory that Dürer wanted to depict a Christ-like figure here. It is painting which reflects deep maturity. Dürer, the master, reflecting on his own image, somehow discovers the presence of Christ in his life, in his looks, in his person.


I am overwhelmed by the light in the painting - by the light on the hands and the face, the head as understanding, the hands as praxis, as creating, as symbolising artistry, esthetics, doing, involvement, transformation. It reflects integration. Spirituality as a complete, comprehensive experience of the divine in one's life. Union with God. Mysticsim.


I wander through the museum. Only to return again to these paintings. To have a last look. To enjoy. And to feel the mystical experience they convey as paintings. It is fascinating to see how a great religous renewal in the church inspired the best of our artists in the history of humanity. How they became personally involved. The faith of the reformation became Dürer's faith, his mystical experience of God's renewing work.

Mystics and passionate love

Mysticism has to do with union with God.

In a simple way one could also speak of the mystical experience people have when they realize that and how God loves humanity and creation without any reason or condition.

Mysticism is then simple and merely about the divine love for what has been created.

Whatever the condition of humanity and creation, whatever the chaos in this world and among people, mysticism seems to grow in its feeling of God’s passionate love for nature and those who inhabit creation.

Although people seem to forget God or regard the notion of God as passe, mystics recognize a divine presence in the world. They see what few others seem to see.

As a result and because of this love, mystics in our time are people who fight injustice. They cannot tolerate the forms of evil and chaos. They therefore fight for a humane society, where everyone has a place in the sun and is accepted as a full human being. They see something special in others and in creation – which no one is allowed to destroy. They care for nature, its beauty. And they vehemently fight against its destruction and abuse. Simply because they understand how passionatly God loves nature.

Mystics are people who live God’s passionate love.

Memento mori: life is precious

Mystical texts often asks their readers to remember and consider their death. This is done through discussions of the memento mori motif.

Thomas a Kempis, for example, in his book 1.23, has “a meditation on death.” He writes that time is precious. One should be intent to use time optimally. This implies, amongs others, that we live according to priorities. One should engage in activities which will not bring fear when one ultimately has to face death.

To think of one’s death means that one does not wast life, does not live a progidal life. Time is short, opportunities are limited. To live wisely, means to understand the consequences of one's deeds in the sense that one will not always have unlimited chances to undo wrong or to do right, to live close to God and to seek the spiritual life. Dramatic and irreversible change may take place any moment: a stroke, a heart attack, an accident. But even if we live our lives to a ripe age, we may still not experience fulfillment.

This obviously does not mean that one should always only read the Bible or pray.

Life is about simple things, about joy, about hard work from 8 to 5, about relaxing, about loving, about hiking, travelling, going to school, an evening out with friends, the party, the Christmas holidays, the book to read, the letter to write, the film to see. But all these matters can be a heavy burden. They can be frustrating, boring, irritating and lifeless.

Or every moment, considered in the light of eternity, can be a moment to feel the beauty of being able to breathe, to enjoy open spaces, to be close to family and good friends, to appreciate kindness, to remain healthy. Then all one’s activities are fulfilling.

Maybe some people will find it is a bit morbid to keep on thinking about one’s death. And obviously it can become a bad, obsessive habit.

But memento mori has nothing to do with obsession. We need to experience and live every moment prayerfully. Which makes me think why prayer is so important: Lord, give us today our daily bread. Let our normal activities, what we eat, let it be to us a gift from you. Let us consider every moment in the light of your love. It is then that life yields beauty and joy.

Care for ourselves

I keep on reflecting on the remark (see a previous blog) that sin often is about injuring and hurting others without us even being aware of it.

We normally argue exactly the opposite: we think we sin only when we consciously hurt someone. To think that sin can also be seen as acting destructively even without us being aware of it. It, as I wrote, cautions us to be really sensitive to the consequences of what we think and do.

We should not think that we cannot be that evil. We have little light in us, writes Thomas a Kempis in his book 2.5 and we neglect the little light which resides in us. We underestimate the darkness in us and find easy excuses for our evil deeds. We are indeed able to act destructively - often not even aware of it.

I also keep on reflecting on the thought that we can be unforgiving towards ourselves when we have done something wrong. We often refuse to accept that we made mistakes and are fallible.

What does all this mean? It practically means that we must care for our inner being just as we look after ourselves by cleaning our house and our body. Our interior live must be clean, a place where love lives, where destructivity cannot catch root. We should not neglect ourselves.

What then? On the one hand we underestimate evil in us, whilst, on the other hand, we become victims of the evil and mistakes we did in the past.

Something special happens when we realize how frail we are, how easy evil invades our interior life and gets a hold on us. Something happens to us when we care properly for ourselves.

To our amazement we then often see how weeds come up where we have thought the garden is clear and beautiful. And then we realize that every one of us, all of humanity, are involved in this struggle against evil in its overt and covert forms. And this brings us to act gently and not to act in any way to allow evil to invade our interior life. There is enough evil in this world. Let us be doves and snakes in the words of Jesus - that is extraordinarily careful about what we do and what we harbour in us.

It is then that we understand how we need to reach out to others as fellow pilgrims in our struggle against evil. We fail. We are by times not even aware that we are destructive in our actions. The more we seek to care for ourselves, to strive for our inner being to be pure and constructive, the more we shall resist becoming instruments of evil who destroy the lives of others. We shall then become servants who are trustworthy in ths smallest of small tasks.

A quiet summer's evening in old Bavaria

We were given an authentic German, Bavarian treat this evening. In a beer garden, where beer has been brewed and served for more than seven hundred years we enjoyed the interesting company of our hosts, the excellent locally brewed beer and a German umpah band.

The locals drink the beer out of half a liter glasses, but my host tells me things are not the same. A few years back they were still drinking out of one liter glasses!

The beer drinking goes back to the fast in monasteries when priests were allowed to drink, but not to eat. The pope, sceptical about the drinking of beer, ordered some beer to be sent to him so that he could make a better judgment whether it was acceptable. By the time the beer reached Rome, it was so sour that the pope is said to have observed that it is completely acceptable since no one would want to drink such sour beer.

On the way back, we walked across the 700 year old bridge over the still flowing Danube towards the beautiful old city of Regensburg. The bridge is one of the best of its kind in Europe from medieval times. It was not damaged in the war. But, lately, no traffic is being allowed. Time is beginning to tell on this bridge of stone...

The evening was beautiful, a perfect end to a summer's day.

Time to walk back home, thinking of everyone in our own country. Our own traditions. Our own customs and all the wonderful things about our own history. And yet, time moves on, things change, even if it is from one liter to half a liter in 700 years. Time then to consider what remains forever, what is not affected by time. Wonderful to consider God's love on a day like today.

Time to remember all those far and near to us - who need and ask for God's presence and blessing in their lives. The inner peace which is God's gift to us is as beautiful as this quiet summer's day in Regensburg. But it is ours for every daywithout end, to remain with us, unaffected by time, throughout our spiritual journey and througout eternity.

Regensburg: a family outing on a Sunday

Sunset in Regensburg - next to our place for the next three months





























The cathedral in Regensburg.


















The Danube - three minutes from our home.






















We swim in the Danube - it is high summer.



















Death in his little nook in Regensburg, with a banana in the mouth...









Boetie and Regensburg flowers. Like a rainbow....

Poverty as a spiritual challenge: on conformity in Christ

I keep on reflecting on the conditions in which Thomas a Kempis wrote his famous Imitation of Christ.

When I consider his difficult times, I realise that poverty is not necessarily shameful. Times of difficulty need not destroy the light in our lives.

Thomas a Kempis’ famous Imitation of Christ was written in times of widespread poverty and suffering. It was written in the Netherlands in a difficult period when the spiritual life of the church was not inspiring. Thomas lived in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries (cf. previous blog). It fascinates me more and more that a book like the Imitation can be written in such a dark time in the history of humanity.

These centuries were the times of the black fever which killed many people and destroyed whole villages. Agriculture was hit hard by natural disasters like floods which destroyed produce and cause widespread famine. In addition there was the Hundred Years war, with decades of fighting between the important nations in Europe. It was a time of need, of war, of poverty, illness and destruction.

There were sharp contrasts between groups of people. The aristocracy had immense power and wealth. Church leaders were often on their side, on the side of the poweful and mighty, with clergy who were hugely influential. The church offices were often bought by wealthy and influential people.

As as result the church was more interested in power than in spiritual matters. On the other hand there were the great masses of the poor. They were exploited by the aristocracy, but also had to pay taxes to the church. They were often denied education, held captive by superstitious beliefs and treated shamefully.

And yet there was in these times a significant group next to these wealthy and powerful people who thought of their calling in terms of conformity to Christ. They knew and experienced Christ as the Poor One. And they wanted to be poor like Christ was. One can, they argued, be poor, but divine. They did not think of poverty as a fate, but set it up an desired it as an ideal: one gives up material possessions and enjoys bliss.

In this way there came into existence the famous notion of the “poor of Christ” (paupures Christi). This was an inspiring vision which lead to the formation of various groups. There were the beguines, women who proclaimed the divine love, but worked among the poor (there were also a male version). One can be poor, but can live in solidarity with those who have less. Part of this movement was a group who wrote spiritual books which they disseminated among the poor. One can be poor, but need not be uneducated.

The Imitation of Christ is to be understood within this group of dedicated people who wanted to live in conformity with Christ. For them there was holiness in poverty. They were experiencing God’s love in simplicity. Where one sees the face of a loving, simple Christ who liberates one from the trappings of worldly power and outwardness, one experiences true freedom. Those in bondage are not the powerless, but those who sleep lightly and restlessly in their castles and high offices.

Poverty need not be shameful. Adversity need not be destructive. It all depends on how close one lives to Christ. To be rooted in Christ’s love can generate sheer beauty in our lives.

Waiting on God. On the nature of Christian spirituality.

How kan I encounter and experience God? It is a question that still keeps people busy. It represents our deepest yearning and desire, to be with the Divine in peace and in fullness.

The question is often answered by focussing on discipline, concentration and hard work. What is needed, we are told, is to apply some techniques to transcend ourselves. Through meditation techniques one can break through all earthly, suffocating limitations and transcend oneself. One then shares, for example, in a divine spirit that restores humanity to its full potential. One moves beyond one’s own limitations, one evolves and grows into greater personhood. In this way one fulfills one’s full potential and becomes what one is supposed to be. In some cases, people use drugs to induce this experience. They claim that incredible religious experiences can be found through, for example, the use of LSD and that such experiences make them into peace-loving people.

This may be true. By training one’s body and mind, it is possible to develop a feeling of well-being and become a better, mature person. A positive outlook on life, an appreciation of other people, care and love for our world, a healthy body and concentration techniques can do wonders. I would not want to vouch for LSD. My spirituality tells me that the use of drugs is dangerous and stupid.

In Christian spirituality something more is at stake. Concentration, meditation, focus, retreat in silence and application of techniques prepares one for something deeper than a self-fulfiling experience.

These dimensions lead one to a place of holiness. It is a space where one lives in love.

This is mystical: in this space of holiness, the divine encounters a human being. This is the place where God reaches out, where we become aware of the Other presence in our lives which transforms us completely. We meet Love, we are liberated from our pre-occupation with ourselves. In Christian mysticism what matters is not so much what we do or how we prepare ourselves, but that ultimately we are touched by the Mystery, by the Other, by transcendent Love – and this Love purifies us.

All this has profound implications for our spiritual journey. If we prepare ourselves in loneliness and in retreat for God’s encounter with us, it brings us in an intimate, close relationship with the Other. We no longer live for ourselves. In Christian mysticism, other than in Eastern mysticism, this implies that I sacrifice myself for the Other. It is better to give than to receive, said the One who lived in an intimate, close relationship with his Father. His way to God, his longing for God – in the desert, on the mountain of transfiguration, in the garden of Gethsemane and on the cross happened on our behalf – so that we may receive the Holy Spirit of love and so that we can reach out to others in power. The end of our spiritual journey is not about ourselves, but about God, about the Other who liberates us, thankfully, from ourselves, our all too human love for ourselves. We experience a divine relationship.

What is mystical about this, according to Christian mystical authors, is that we have no power over this process. We cannot manipulate God’s encounter with us. Not technique, no drugs, no concentration will generate or bring about this encounter. We can only wait on it. We have to be ready for it, await it, yearn for it, desire it.

We are on holy ground here. We have moved out of our own space, out of our own world, in the divine sphere where we are touched and transformed so that we can experience our world and space in a new, transformed way. We discover something bigger than ourselves, Someone more important than we are.

True joy

Our societies with its culture of performance drive us to search for recognition, awards and praise from others. And we are misrable without it. Our world focusses strongly on merit and performance. We feel good and experience joy when we are rewarded or praised for having excelled in some way or other. We feel deeply depressed when we think that we are not accepted by others or are being regarded as inferior.

The irony is that people who excell or who is praised a lot, also have their misrable times.

Spirituality nurtures a completely different attitude than this desire for rewards and recognition. Spirituality authors help us to understand why praise and rewards for our performance do not really give us more joy and fulfillment. And they help us to realise that pure joy can be experienced in the simplest times of our existence.

Thomas a Kempis writes about true joy in book 2 chapter 6 of his Imitation of Christ. A good conscience will reward one with true joy, even in adversity. One can glory in tribulation, for example, because one then glories in the cross of Christ. Here he takes up Galatioans 6:14 where Paul writes, “But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.”

Praise and glory from other people provide only brief joy.

Real joy can be found only in God. To have joy in God means that one understands the true role and place of temporal things in your spiritual life. They are truly “temporal.”

In contrast, God is eternal. The person who finds happiness in temporal matters is someone who still has to learn to love God. Such a person has not yet discovered what is truly fulfilling and enduring. Thomas continues, “S/he has great tranquility of heart who cares neither for praises nor the fault-finding of people. S/he will easily be content and pacified, whose conscience is pure.”

He then adds this special remark, “You are not holier if you are praised; not the more worthless if you are found fault with... neither by words can you be made greater than what you are in the sight of God.”

We are great in the sight of God. In our spiritual journey this precious experience gives us real joy. God accepts us for who we are. There are not more or less important people in God's sight.

The mind of Christ - on conformity with Christ

I am always intrigued by the practical nature of mysticism. Throughout the ages mystical texts display a pastoral concern and care. This concern is evident in the simple and direct manner in which it supports people on their spiritual journey. It is also seen in mystagogy, which represents the spiritual direction of believers and which is of great signficance in the mystical tradition. Mystagogy is not about theological training, but about the art of life. It is not about cerebral scoring of points, but about wisdom. In texts, especially those with a strong Christ mysticism, the concrete focus is developed though the many references in mystical texts to “conformity” in Christ.

I found this also in Shusako Endo’s book, Silence, about the cruel persecution of Christians in fifteenth century Japan (see the previous blogs) which ends tragically with the denial of Christ by the main character, Rodrigues. The aweful martyrdom of Christians brings him to the point where he too is forced to trample on a fumie, a picture of Christ’s face.

Endo refers repeatedly throughout the book to Rodrigues’ medititation on the face of Christ. In his most difficult times, he sees the loving face of Christ before him. It sustains him and keeps him from denying Christ.

It is therefore unthinkable when Rodrigues who relates so deeply in his inner being to the face of Christ, symbolising his loving relationship with humanity, finally steps on that very face and tramples it under foot. Endo describes this moment as follows, “The priest raises his foot. In it he feels a dull, heavy pain. This is no mere formality. He will now trample on what he has considered the most beautiful thing in his life, on what he has believed most pure, on what is filled with the ideals and the dreams of man.” To see Christ, is to see the deeper things, the profound truth of God. To look at Christ, is to look into the divine heart and at the same time to catch a glimps of one’s own heart as well. Christ is the face of the divine outreach to and the divine longing for humanity.

In mysticism meditation plays a seminal role. Meditation of Scripture, of characters in the Bible, of Jesus and of death (momenti mori) is well known. Thomas A Kempis writes in the first chapter of his Imitation of Christ that our chief endeavour should be to meditate upon the life of Jesus Christ. By doing this, we have the Spirit of Christ. One must “conform” one’s life wholly to the life of Christ.

I can understand why Endo is so fascinated by the face of Christ – especially in the light of Levinas’ thoughts on the face. A face reveals who you are. Your life can be read from your face. To see the countenance of Jesus is, for Endo and for believers, to see absolute beauty, complete purity. We recognize in the look of Christ his heart of love. In his quiet appearance we meet a vulnerable saviour. We see God’s “ideals” and “dreams” for us, in the words of Endo.

When we live in conformity to Christ, we are tuned in on who Christ is, what he said and how he lived. We live the mind of Christ (Rom.8:6). In our spirituality we seek an intimate relationship with Christ when we allow everything we read about Christ to permeate our inner being, to follow Christ and to love him. This is God’s grace then – that we are given Christ to follow, to imitate. We remain close to him, we live in conformity with him, we give up all the vanities of the world, as Thomas writes, so that God’s grace kan enter our life, became part of us and sanctify us. It has nothing to do with pride and merit that we have this as our “chief endeavour.” It is, rather, amazing grace. We can read the Bible endlessly, speak about it, think about it, but if the Bible does not bring us in the mind of Christ, we have read it in vain.

What I have learned from Endo’s book is how concrete this conformity to Christ could become. One sees Christ’s face, look him in the eyes, stand before him in complete trust and love. The incarnation has obtained new meaning for me through Endo’s book. God granted us the word in the flesh, so that we can see God’s love in the face of Christ.

The New Devotion

I always found it fascinating to think that the great new religious reformation of the second millenium which culminated in the reformation of Luther and Calvin actually had roots in one of the smallest countries in Europe. It all began in the Netherlands, and, of all places, not in its famous and influential Amsterdam, but in a number of small cities to the east.

The famous “Imitiation of Christ” cannot be understood without taking into consideration these Dutch cities in which Thomas a Kempis lived and worked. In his time the Hanseatic confederation of towns in the eastern parts of the Netherlands consisted of such towns like Zwolle, Kampen, Zutphen and Deventer. In the fourteenth and fifteenth century at the time The Imitation of Christ was being written, these cities were among the wealthy commercial centres of the country. Though they were not as big as cities like Amsterdam, they were prosperous. And they valued their independence.

Through their trade they developed links with other countries. The exchange of trade is always a two-sided affair. It benefits both parties involved in business transations. As a result of the international contacts, the intellectual life of these cities developed fast. Preachers from over the world visited to work in these cities. Members of well-known orders in the then hugely strong and influential Roman Catholic church lived in these cities and helped with the education of the locals. They were also involved in social upliftment and support of the poor.

It was in this time that many members of the orders began to feel the church was in need of reformation. Monasteries were criticized for their irreligious behaviour and their superficiality. At the same time there was a common drive to bring people to a deeper experience of their faith. The goal was to guide members of the church to live a life of piety. The time, they felt, was right for a new piety, a new devotion. With time this movement actually began to be described as “The New Devotion.” It produced Geert Grote as one of its greatest representatives and someone who had a huge influence on Thomas A Kempis.

The New Devotion is a result of these developments. In this movement the focus was on the practical experience of faith. They rejected speculative and intellectual hair splittingallyh . More important was the traditional Biblical wisdom which promoted the unity with Christ. The New Devotion held the meditative reading of the Bible in high regard. The prayerful reflection on Scripture was at the heart of this movement. It developed into Lectio Divina.

It is especially the focus on the person in the street that strikes me. The New Devotion did not regard the faith of the religious as the more important issue. Also the person in the pew had to grow in their spirituality. Spiritual growth is not only for the religious, but for everyone. The church is not about some of the people with a special calling, but about every believer. Some of the theologians who describe this period, talk about the process of democratization that characterizes it. In fact, one may find some of the roots of modern day democracy already in this phenomenon.

The important point of all this detail is that Thomas A Kempis represented the face of a movement that began before his time. He is one of many individuals who experienced a time in which the church and theology had, in many regards, failed faith. It is sad. But it is not the first and it will not be the last time in history that the church who should be a space where people live their faith, in fact stifle and stand in the way of faith. And it is remarkable that after a time in which Thomas Aquinas, considered by many as one of the most learned theologians of all times, wrote his works of extreme erudition, many believing souls simply thought that theology had nothing to offer them. They desired something else, yearned for something deeper and asked for something fulfilling.

Makes one think. Makes one think deeply. History has a tendency to repeat itself....

God's liberating touch....

Over the years thre women spent much time with our family to help us care for our children. They shared intimate moments with us: they listened to us talking about normal things, but also about dificult topics. They saw us as no one else - how we lived in our home, how and with what we dressed, how we set up and lived in our rooms, they knew what kept us busy, who visited us, what we bought, how the kids went to school, to university, how they got married - all those special events in the life of a family. They shared our joys, the special moments, but they also experienced our losses, the deaths of our dearest ones.

Celia was the last one of the three to help us in our home. She was a big woman. She could not always keep up the pace - which we understood and accepted. But she was someone with a big heart. She was reliable, friendly, quiet, a reassuring presence to all of us.

At the same time, like many of her peers in apartheid South Africa, she was a strong woman, who raised her kids on a limited salary to study at a university.

But not everything was always sunshine and roses. For some reason or other, Celia managed to break some of our more precious items while she did the washing up. We did not believe in buying extravagantly, but we had collected a few special items – among which a beautiful, almost irreplaceable set of crockery. Over a number of months, Celia regularly came to us with a broken piece from this set and told us that she had broken it.

We never really said anything about her accidents. In our family we accepted that such things happen. We also never really wondered what she thought about it, it was of such little consequence to us.

When we finally moved to another city and had to say goodbye to her, she thanked us, in her quiet, almost graceful manner. And then she made a remark which I never forgot. She explicitly mentioned how grateful she was that we never shouted at her – not even, she added, when she broke our precious crockety pieces.

For some reason or other, I cannot forget her words. They remain with me because they reveal to me how sensitive she was about her accidents. And, as time goes by, I understand more and more why she came to us with the pieces in her hand, each time, to tell us what happened and to inform us quite openly and honestly that she was the responsible person. It was for her, from her background, difficult to experience that she caused us to lose what were special items in our household.

Recently, as I reflected on her remarks again, I wondered if her words of farewell do not help me to understand God’s grace better. We often are guilty of breaking the most beautiful of beautiful things in our life. We fear God’s response - God's demand that we should compensate, or God's anger at our failures. Only to discover that God is a forgiving God, a loving God who understands perhaps better than we do ourselves, how much pain we already experience in our failures. Sin is so humiliating because it makes us realize how frail, how vulnerable we are, how we destroy precious things.

But God’s grace time and again sets us free from the pain that we cause – mostly and especially to ourselves.

How wonderful and liberating is it to experience that God does not blame us. If only we stand before God, coram Deo, with the broken pieces of our lives! Our standing before God is ausserdem an indication of our realisiation that we are innerly broken as well. We are pained by the thougth that we have brought shamwe over ourselves....

God does not reciprocate, does not make us pay. God, seeing us in our shame, liberates us to become as full of grace as Godself is. It is then, as we continue to experience the unfathomable and inexhaustible grace of god, that we begin to live so deeply in God’s grace, that grace flows out of us to others. We can share grace, give it freely to others, as if it is a matter of course.

We can live like this because we recognise in the other who harm us, our own image: fallible, yet desperately in need of forgiveness and understanding. And as we see the inner brokenness of the others, our gift of grace and forgiveness becomes an instrument of healing.

God liberating touch never ends in us. It flows through us to humanity...

Love for the Bible

One reads a lot of the immense popularity of Thomas a Kempis’ Imitiation of Christ. But this was not his only book. He wrote almost fourty books, amongst others three biographies on well-known figures in the New Devotion (Geert Groote, Florens Nadewijn and St. Lydwine of Schiedam).

But one underestimates his life if one does not take into account his involvement in the reading of the Bible. He was immersed in reflecting on the Bible through the daily readings on his own and in the liturgy. There are beatiful stories about Thomas’ involvement in the liturgical reading of the Bible. He lost himself in the reading of the text, to such an extent that other people near to him sometimes joked about his love of Scripture. It is said that he almost always spoke about God and Scriptures in his discussions with other people. If you’ve read a book, thank God for its wisdom and then place it carefully back on the shelf – in its proper place, he insisted.

Remarkable also is his involvement in writing the Bible. He copied the whole of the Bible and praised the activity of producing manuscripts of the Bible. He was crticial of people who did not respect and read the Bible with the necessary attention and devotion. Many readers of the Imitiation recognise how it is saturated with Biblical language. Thomas was so deeply involved in reading the Bible that he came to speak and write in Biblical language.

Thomas was a deeply religious person who impressed others with his practical piety. He was a book worm. He wrote that he only found peace when he read and reflected on the Bible in his cell.

Thomas’ piety needs to be understood in the light of his context. He was born in 1379, towards the end of the fourteenth century. This was a difficult time for the church. In the previous century, Thomas of Aquinas wrote his theological writings in which he constructed an impressive theological system which had a lasting influence. Soon his work was heavily disputed in intense debates about the relationship between God’s revelation and human reason. The initial leaders were Duns Scotus and William of Occam. As a result theology became more and more a matter of intellectual debates. Debates about the understanding of Scriptures were in focus rather than living a life of faith. Faith was debated rather than experienced.

It was also a time of vulgar and popular religious activity. People were indiscreet in their religious observances. It was a deeply pessimistic age, driven by a feeling of gloom. The symbol of the cross was in the centre of attention. Church leaders were more interested in politics than in religion. They sought material gains and made light of their religious duties. Individuals lost their trust in these leaders and sought religious fulfillment outside their sphere of influence. When one reads The Imitation of Christ, one recognizes in his prouncements how he responds to these difficult times.

Sin as wounding the other

In Shusako Endo’s book (Silence – cf. the previous blog), a recurring motif is the feeling of a believer that God is silent in the midst of suffering. The motif of silence is therefore mentioned repeatedly in it. At a certain stage the priest is arrested and locked up in a hut. He loses all sense of time. He experiences this negatively because it means that he cannot celebrate the important religious festivals. He tries to pray, but his prayers feel empty and hollow. His attention is drawn by laughter and conversation of the guards outside his hut. Their laughter and talking make him feel that they are completely indifferent to his fate. This makes him think that sin is not what people normally think it is. Sin is not to steal and lie. It is “for one man to walk brutally over the life of another and to be quite oblivious of the wounds he has left behind.”

These comments of the character made me think deeply. We are aware of how we harm others consciously. But sin is much deeper than this. To avoid sin, one has to be sensitive, aware, think twice, guard you words, to be loving so that one does not even harm the other without being aware of it.

This is what we need for a holy lifestyle. This is what we need so that we do not even unconsciously do something that wounds others. The priest’s thoughts on sin reminded me of the wise words spoken so many centuries ago to those on the mountain. Count your words, be aware how you can wound the other (Raka!). And do not think that you will not face the consequences of harming others. “Be watchful!” is an expression which Jesus often uses.

And immediately after this description of sin by the priest, Endo writes the next sentence, “And then for the first time a real prayer rose up in his heart.” When one recognizes sin, it brings you in the presence of God.

Wonderful book with fascinating insights about suffering and sin.

And yet we are searching

There has been strong interest in Eastern mysticism in zen, yoga and Chinese wisdom in Western societies and especially in meditation techniques. The meditation brings the body in line with the spirit and gives a feeling of balance and harmony. Some oppose meditation vehemently, arguing that it is alien to Christianity. Others feel there are lines of convergence. Self-control, it is said, is basic to both. Both brings about peace beyond all forms of conflicts and leads one to a special experience of self-fulfillment. Both promotes a lifestyle which is thoroughly humane and underlines the value of humanity. Both finds in mysticism the highest form of religion.

All this depends on how one understands Eastern forms of mysticism. They are diverse. It is clear that Christianity should reflect on why its tradisional forms of religion are no longer enough for Westerners. Especially striking is the way in which people seek for practical, concrete and bodily forms of mysticism. Yoga, reiki, aromatherapy and dances are forms of experiences that people find important and that they want to integrate in their search for meaning. The role of music in our society underlines how important the senses are. It is not enought that people have a good, comfortable existence. They are looking for more.

The West is a paradise in terms of information. We know all and see all. And yet we are searching. By noting what Eastern mysticism offers people, we can become aware of answers to questions which were given long agon in our own religious traditions. The days of our cerebral religion are counted and over. We need to return to some of our mystical forebears. We will be surprised at the answers we find in their works – it may inspire us to new experiences.

"I feel great love for that face." On mystical love.

I am reading the book “Silence” by the well-known Japannese author Shusako Endo who has often been nominated for the Nobel Prize. His history as a Japannese catholic has been discussed in a fascinating book by Philip Yancey. (Japan's Faithful Judas; cf the discussion in http://michellan.multiply.com/journal/item/26.)

Endo’s book is about the cruel and successful persecution of catholic priests and christians in Japan in the sixteenth and seventeenth century that led to the almost complete annihilation of Christianity in the country. In the first chapter, one of the priests who is returning to Japan to look for one of their own who has been said to have apostasized, Sebastian Rodriguez, describes his feelings on a stop in Macao just before they would begin their dangerous journey in Japan.

He reflects on Jesus instruction to his disciples to go out in the world, preach the gospel and baptize all people. “And now, as I obey this injunction, the face of Christ rises up before my eyes.” But, he then asks, “What did the face of Christ look like?” The Bible does not answer the question. Early Christians thought of him as a shepherd with a short mantle, holding a lamb and a staff. “That was hoe the earliest Christians envisaged the gentle face of Christ.” In the Eastern Church Christ was given an Eastern look with a long nose, curly hair, a black beard. Medieval artists painted a face of Christ resplendent with the authority of a king. These faces are not the one he wants to see in his anxious night. That night he recalls the face of Christ he saw for the first time as a young seminarian. “Christ has one foot on the sepulchre and in his right hand he holds a crucifix. He is facing straight out and his face bears the expression of encouragement it had when he commanded his disciples three times, ‘Feed my lambs, feed my lambs, feed my lambs...’ It is a face filled with vigor and strength.”

It is the last words in this reflection on the face of Christ that struck me. Endo writes, “I feel great love for that face. I am always fascinated by the face of Christ just like a man fascinated by the face of his beloved.”

Endo’s book is a fascinating read and contains awful descriptions of the history of Christianity and the perseverance of the faithful in times of utmost persecution. But what struck me more than the contextual information, is the book’s spirituality. Endo’ characters are very human: they are anxious, irritated, suspicious, but they also have a tender relationship with Christ. It is a relationship of love. “I feel great love for that face.” This love is experienced in a face to face relationship. One, as a believer, is encouraged by the face of Christ that looks you straight in the eyes and says: “Feed me....” It is a face that evokes deep love, as deep as the love between people who are united in love.

It is so much more poignant to link this book with Endo’s personal history of rejection and persecution because he was a Christian and his rejection in France in the second world war by Christians because he was a Japannese. Alienation is a key term in his books. One lacks a home, a place of security. But in the dark night of the soul, amidst the storm of anxiety about the consequences of our faith, we experience that gentle, but strong face of the One who looks us lovingly and encouragingly in the eyes. And then we reach out to feed Him, feed Him, feed Him, by talking about this gentle, strong face to those who oppress and persecute us.

In the midst of rejection, one cannot apostasize. One cannot, though you try, give up your faith. There is, as in Endo’s case, the mystery that draws you back and this mystery is the loving face of Christ. It is in many ways a unique face, now and then seen also in the face of believers. But despite human treason, human apostasy, the face remains with us, the loving relationship is not given up by the One who grants love. “I feel great love for that face.”

There is one scene in the Bible that I recalled when I read this part of Endo's book. It is where Peter, having denied Jesus, turns and looks Jesus in the face. That is when he bursts out in tears... I see his face of love and I recognize my treason and failures when I see the face of love.

"I feel great love for that face."

Cordial hardness

Vienna is a first world country. That became visually clear to me as our plane landed on the airport in a lusch, well-maintained part of the city. The airport is not large, but well organised. The traveller is given the best possible reception. Neat airport, excellent restaurants, clear indications of facilities, banks, information counters, trolleys, efficient baggage delivery and all the luxuries one expects from a first world country. The facilities are impressive. The train, according to the huge advertisement, will take you to the city center within 16 minutes for ten euro. With the bus you pay six euros, but the journey takes you three times longer.

I wait at the information counter for a woman to help me with information to reach my hotel. She is still youngish, neatly, even stilishly dressed. I wait as she speaks with a woman of Near Eastern appearance, a Muslim, given her head cover. The scarfed woman asks her questions haltingly, but clearly. She clearly needs the help. And yet I can see that the communication is limited. Her questions receive one sentence replies.

When it is my turn, the atmosphere changes. The woman is exceptionally helpful. She picks up information brochures, give me extensive indications, sells me a train ticket in a most friendly manner and gives me more information than I bargained for. I feel good. Reassured about my pending journey into the great city.

And yet I leave a bit disturbed. I have just witnessed something sad. The alienation between people upsets me.

As I travel on the bus, my mood does not improve. I seen many similar people and my heart keeps on asking me how they live in this first world country. The city is full of labourers with Near Eatern appearances. They drive taxi’s, clean the buildings, serve customers and fulfil menial tasks that no one else seems to be willing to do. I see families with the father and his brothers walking in front, children in the middle and the wives with head scarfs at the back.

It was one of them who reached out to another women to ask simple questions, who wanted help. It was one of them who got the luke-warm response, the shortest of replies, all under the guise of cordiality.

It made me think of the Parable of the Samaritan. Those who should recognize the need of others, who should reach out to them, are often the ones who are the hardest and the merciless ones. It is, in this case, even more disturbing. The people that you rely on to keep your country’s basis infrastructure running, are the ones whom you do not trust, whom you treated cordially, but with the minimum of communication. They are the strangers at your front door, Lasarus, the foreigners in your land. How deeply rooted are our prejudices, our fears, our lack of mercy – mostly of those who need our care most.

The woman behind the counter is most probably also a mother, a respected neighbour, a religious person who is active in her church. But she sees another woman not as a person. Under her cordial attitude she conceals negativity, sharing the minimum which she is allowed to share.

Xenophoby is rife in our world. It lives in our hearts. It tears our societies apart. It sows hatred and reaps violence. And it begins, seemingly innocuous, at a counter where the outreaching hand of those in need is discarded. Not in a disrespectful, violent manner. But in sophistication, under a layer of civilized cordiality, the other is turned away. Was it no Foucault who wrote about how our prison system became more cruel as we developed more sophisticated means to punish criminals?

The Samaritan saw the victim who had been assaulted. He kneeled at his side, gave him his time, cared for his needs, bound his wounds, carried him to a safe place and saw that he would be cared for. It was a face to face meeting which brought healing.

And as we listen to this story, it makes us recognise who we are, what we are busy doing – often in the name of religion. It is a mystical story that brings us to contrition. It draws us into transformation. We can never look at those in need in the same way as we did previously.

Or is it just another goody-goody reflection that underestimates the harsh realities of our times? But what then, will break the cycle of violence in our world and where will peace come from?

The woman at the counter paused for a moment, as if she was going to say something again. I saw she needed more information. But then, in her moment of hesitation, she seemed to realise that she should not bother the cordial assistant behind the counter again. She turned and left to become part of those in the big, first world city who, though the city would fall apart without them, still lived a life of need.

He believed what he taught....

I am in a discussion with a colleague who teaches New Testament at a university in the U.K. We discuss the state of our discipline, how helpful the historical approach to the New Testament was to overcome fundamentalist abuse of the Bible and how much information had become available through careful historical and textual studies. We talk about the value of literary studies. It helped us to understand more about the Bible as text which displays typically rhetorical features of his time. We understand better than before that Paul wrote his letters to churches in Asia Minor to solve specific problems. But literary theory and postmodern insights also made us aware of the constitutive role of the reader in interpreting texts. A married woman in Kenya, Africa will interpret the Bible differently in many ways than a professor in Biblical Studies at a Ivy League University in the United States.

All these approaches and insight have changed the face of our discipline over the last century or two. And yet, it seems as if there is something fundamentally missing. My colleague who was trained at a well-known university, tells me how he, as a student, was so impressed by one of his teachers who spoke about his subject with conviction. He lectured to them like “someone who believed what he was saying.” What impressed him was that his conviction somehow transcended pious, superficial ramblings about the message of the Bible and managed to reflect the transformative thrust of Biblical texts. His lectures represented a spirituality that seemed to reflect something of the claims in the Bible itself and the huge influence of the Bible through the ages. His lectures differed from those of his colleagues whose presentations created the impression that they were factual, informative, though uninvolved material about a distant past.

My colleague did not talk about this from a theoretical perspective. For him it was a matter of a successful professor who succeeded to communicate well with his students – the “Mr Chips” of British schools who managed to stir some interests through his enthusiasm from the thickest of thick pupils.

And yet this discussion is of special relevance for our discipline. For a long time we argued that a Biblical scholar should not interfere with the material he or she is teaching by “imposing” his or her personal convictions on it. He or she needs to teach “objectively” so that can present his materially as trustworthy as possible! We know better now that even the so-called neutral position is driven by ideological convictions. No individual can exclude his or her own convictions from determining. A scholar who was trained in the Lutheran tradition in Germany often read certain parts of the New Testament differently than an Anglican researcher in the U.S.A. Equally clear is that our asssumptions about the Bible – whether it is a historical book or a book with a transformative communication will determine the outcomes of our readings of the Bible. Except for our academic presuppositions our spirituality also determines our reading of the Bible.

We have thought much about reception theory in Biblical Studies. The reader plays a decisive role in interpreting a text. Two people will not interpret a text in the same manner. The question now is: what do we mean by the “reader?” Surely, it also includes the spirituality of the reader. The spiritual interests, concerns, prejudices, convictions of the reader do not only determine his or her attitude towards the text, but the text also forms and nurtures these matters. But how can this be investigated and analysed in an adequate and responsible matter? These are some of the issues that must be determined in Biblical Spirituality. This is important in the light of the Bible’s claims that it has transformative value.

These remarks will be controversial. They need to be motivated in order to avoid misunderstanding. But ultimately it has to do with how we teach our discipline. Do we believe what we teach?

Love in a lonely world

A local church leader warns that the internet depersonalizes people and brings them to withdraw in their small world in which they lose social skills and manipulate or violate others. We lose ourselves in our virtual world where we stand in the centre and care nothing for direct, healthy and healing person-to-person communication.

Mysticism as encounter with God creates an intimate bond and unity between God and humanity is sometimes thought to contribute to such subjectivity. Some complain that this is often too individualistic and represents uncontrolled subjective experiences.

Against this understanding of mysticism, many authors underline that mysticsim is closely linked with social justice, care for others and concern for God's creation. Karl Rahner, for example, insisted that our present world should develop a political sanctification which nurtures concern for others, especially those on the fringes of society. Mysticism does not create solipsism.

And yet, it remains true that mysticism is always related to a highly individual experience. One can have experiences of the divine in liturgy, in bible study groups, in spiritual meetings and in group contexts. But, as Rahner insisted, ultimately mysticism is about being in the presence of God in solitude and silence. It is about an experience in which one becomes aware of the divine love which one cannot fathom intellectually or express fully in human language, but which touched one's heart and transformed one's existence. It is an experience that purifies one, illuminates and sanctifies one to become part of a spiritual journey.

Once again, though, one shares this individual experience with the rest of humanity to whom God also relates in love. One becomes part of a spiritual community whose members are characterized by their loving relationship with the divine and with one another.

Why is this special, individual relationship so important? In our world people are becoming supra-individualistic or solipsistic. They are driven back in their own private little spheres of lfe because of complete loneliness. In our massive world people sometimes act desperately to attract attention because they are so alone and on their own. They seek the fifteen minutes of fame, act anti-socially or dress up in unorthodox ways. In some cases it can be pure fun - being different or challenging prejudices. But very often it reflects deep unhappiness and loneliness. Then people are no longer individuals who are part of humanity, but they distance themselves from others. They no longer share the experience of a loving relationship with the Other, but feel threatened by the others. They live for themselves and care only for themselves.

Mysticism breaks open this closed world view by implanting love in the human soul and making humanity aware that this is a divine, graceful gift which one shares with and for God’s creation.

Mysticism is not narcism or mere self-love. It liberates one from self-involvement and self-centredness by involving one in a loving relationship with the divine. Mysticism purifies one from the lonely, self-centred solipsistic existence. In the mystical experience one grasps how abundantly love is given and finally, in the mystical experience one seeks to grow deeper into this love for the divine and God’s creation.