When 83 000 rugby fanatics fall silent.... En joying the game.

The rugby test against the Irish on Saturday was attended, if I remember correctly, by 83 000 people. What a massive number of people. They gather in an impressive stadium and sing loudly and enthusiastically. The sound overwhelms and touches one deeply.

But it is also a crowd that knows its rugby and notices the smallest detail. When Petersen seemed to have tackled his opponent with a high tackle, the crowd is deeply upset and the boo’s rain over the poor man. This is not how one plays the game, young man....

But then there were the penalties. Each time, whether the Irish or the Boks were kicking, a deadly silence broke out on the field. One “hears,” says the commentator, the silence.

Beautiful.

But also remarkbale – to hear 83 000 people fall into silence so that one can hear a needle drop. And that for a kick.

And, the commentator added, he wished that the people back home in South Africa can also remain so silent with penalities. It is, therefore, unusual – this silence of the Irish crowd.

I also noted the silence. And I reflected about the culture which creates such an attitude of sportmanship. Here, I think, rugby really reigns supreme. It is enjoyed with a sportmanship, but it is also appreciated for its beauty and for its power. The kickers – of both the home team and the visitors – are given a fair chance to entertain, to show what they can do, to bring out the best of their ability.

It is a mature attitude. Sport gives so much more joy when one can experience the best and when the players can perform optimally. The silence allows and gives them space to show the crowds what they can do.

The only thing that impresses more than the silence is the culture behind that silence.

This culture of enjoying, of appreciating sport extends to other aspects of the game. After everything is over the Irish line up to shake the hands of the Boks.

Beautiful.

Is there somewhere some link with the fact that the Irish are traditionally so strongly Catholic? I have to think about this.

Hearing the silence, I realize why sport - even in its minutest of detail - reveals why it has such a great influence on people.

That silence. Of 83 000 people – and that for a kick.

Instruments of power. On our partnership with God.

The story of the Ethiopian official in Acts 8 focusses to a large extent on the interpretation of Scripture. There is in the passage a lot of discussion about Isaiah 53:7-8 (which is quoted in Acts 8:32-33). This focus should not let us underestimate the request of the Ethipian to be baptized (Ac.8:38-39). For Luke baptism was particularly important. In the Lukan context it represents an extraordinary event. At the beginning of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus was baptised, representing his inauguration as the royal Messiah (Lk.321-22). It represents the beginning of his ministry, God’s call to him to redeem and empower humanity. Acts 2 begins with the baptism of the believers with the Holy Spirit and the baptism of all believers (Ac.2:38). It is also the event which inaugurates the proclamation of the Gospel through the world. And, in Samaria the believers were baptized, whereafter they received the Holy Spirit (Ac.8:16). Baptism therefore signifies that amazing transformation of believers from bondage to children of God who live powerfully. The baptism in Acts 8 must be understood in this sense. It is in fact the result of the reading of Scripture: it illustrates how powerfully Scripture changes people and establishes a life-generating relationship with God in Christ.

The baptism of the Ethiopian follows after the brief remark of Philip that Scripture spoke of Jesus (Ac.8:35). He then expresses his desire to be baptized (cf. Ac.2:38). Baptism represents two matters: on the one hand one dies by being immersed in the water. One leaves the old, sinful existence behind. The coming up out of the water represents the new life into which one is born. Paul explained it as follows in Romans 6:4: “We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.” It is a paradox: baptism represents death and life. We die to ourselves. But it also represents newness, power and glory. We are miraculously given a new existence. This is what happened to the Ethiopian. In Christ he is no longer a seeker. He has been united with Christ and has, therefore, been given a new existence. It is a paradox – we need to die in order to live. We need to be liberated from the old order of existence to enter an existence in which we experience joy.


There is, however, another paradox which is closely connected with the Ethipian’s mystical union with Christ in his baptism. In the story of the Emmaus disciples we have a remarkable observation: The two disciples recognize Jesus when he breaks bread with Him. Their eyes were opened (Luke 24:31) after they were kept from recognizing Him (Luke 24:16). But then follows: “he disappeared from their sight.” In the story of the Ethiopian, he is baptized and “the Spirit of the Lord suddenly took Philip away, and the eunuch did not see him again” (Ac.8:39). Philip, who witnessed to the Ethiopian and baptized him, is no longer with him. He is now on his own. What Jesus did to his disciples, happens in the case of Philip, the guide to the new life, with his new disciple. In both stories the main character appears and disappears. The main character is recognized, but is then no longer seen. One can recognize Jesus and then no longer see Him – just as one can see Jesus without recognizing Him.

But note what power is let loose in the life of the Emmaus disciples. They, who were somber and desperate, now become, after Jesus disappearance, powerful witnesses of his resurrection. And the Ethiopian: he who had no one to show him the way (Ac.8:31) and pleaded with Philip to help him (Ac.8:34), went on his way rejoicing (Ac.8:39). He no longer had Philip with him to guide him. The absence of Philip was replaced by the joy of being united with Christ. His life was transformed. His heart was filled with flaming joy – just like the hearts of the two Emmaus disciples were burning and just like their inordinate haste to report their miraculous encounter after Jesus disappeared.

Why is this so remarkable? It is so remarkable because it speaks of the way in which God transforms us from weakness to become partners. Jesus has to go away so that we can live in power.

This empowerment takes place on three levels.

There is, first of all, God’s acts of liberation and empowerment in Jesus. We can live differently, powerfully because of what Jesus once did. God worked powerfully in Jesus to restore to humanity freedom and to give to humanity a life of fulfillment. Without this anchor, our ship will never be secure.

And then, secondly, God co-opts humanity in this process of empowerment. Jesus leaves, goes his way, so to speak. But he also transforms people, his weak, somber and hopeless followers, into witnesses who are instruments of the divine power. His witnesses spread the divine word. They do wonderful, powerful and mighty deeds (Philip; Ac.8:6). God co-opts and shares the task of witnessing.

But this is not the end of the story. The first witnesses do not keep the power to themselves. The witness about the divine Word is spread and the powerful transformation of humanity is, thirdly, continued far beyond the first witnesses. Power is shared, later generations are included and empowered. The Gospel reaches out through the centuries to many generations. What happened to the disciples of Jesus after the resurrection, as it is told in the story of the Emmaus disciples, now happens in the lives of his disciples. They become witnesses of God’s faithfulness and love in Christ. And then, the trust and love of God remains, though one generation of witnesses after the other may disappear from the scene. The witness of Jesus liberated and empowered the Emmaus disciples. The witness of Philip liberated and empowered the Ethiopian. Luke now tells the story of the Ethiopian to inform his readers that God’s mighty deeds are continued from generation to generation to generation. Luke witnesses to his readers about these events so that they can become involved and be empowered. And we read Luke’s story so that it can become our story and empower us. Jesus’ farewell, his disappearance, Luke wants to say, does not mean the end of empowerment. We can actually still experience the divine power. Here we need to remember: our power is not to be found in ourselves. It is to be found in th story which we tell – a story of liberation and empowerment. Because of what we speak and what we live, we become a powerful presence in this world. God is now speaking the divine word through our life and words. The words of God are spoken through us by the Holy Spirit. It is a powerful word. It is a word that brings great joy – we are in a relationship with God which heals God’s world, brings freedom to humanity and empowers humanity to great things.

It is a mystery: in the absence of Jesus lies our power! In telling the story of Jesus, we find power.

It is remarkable to consider how God makes us partners in witnessing liberation and power to our world. We can truly speak words of liberation, words of power. We can.

Long before we longed for God, God longingly reached out to us (Acts 8).

When one reads the story of the Ethiopian in Acts 8, one is struck by his piety. He worshipped God in Jerusalem. He studies the Bible on his way back. Together with Philip he engages in a close reading of the text. He desires to know what the prophet wanted to say. These are all indications of someone who is seeking the deeper things in life. He desires the godly life.

And he is not disappointed. At a certain stage something decisively happens to him and changes his life dramatically. It is the moment of recognition, the revelation of the mystery. At this moment he is transformed, he is baptized by Philip.

One could say that God therefore “responds” to his piety. God recognizes his desire and intense longing for the deeper things. It is this which makes us think that there is a certain pattern in our religion. We thus think that lectio ( the reading of Scripture in verse 28) and the meditatio (the close reading and study of the Bible in verses 32-35) lead to the prayerful response of the Ethiopian and then to his baptism (i.e. to oratio and contemplatio). It is similar to what happened in the case of the Emmaus disciples. They read and meditated on the Bible with Jesus, and all the time, as they say later on, their hearts were burning in them. They felt the desire as they reflected on Scripture. One could argue that the study of the Bible kindles flames of longing for God.

To some extent this is true. When we listen to God and when we meditate on God’s word, we experience a desire for God. And God will fulfill our yearning for divine intervention and fulfillment.

But it would be a mistake to think that God only reaches out when we are good Bible students and when we desire and long for God. It is most remarkable what is being emphasized in the story of the Ethiopian in Acts 8: before we read about the Ethiopian studying the Bible on his chariot and long before God touched him through Scripture and Philip’s witness (verses 27-28), Luke tells, an angel of the Lord told Philip to travel the lonely road to Gasa (verse 26). God’s initiative sets the wheels in motion, so to speak. Right from the beginning, in Luke’s mind, God is steering events. It is the deeds of God which let things happen – like on Pentecost day. And througout the narrative we see the holy presence of the Spirit. Philip obeys the divine command and sets off on his journey. And then again he is told by divine intervention to go to the chariot and to stay there (verse 29). And, finally, after the baptism, God again intervenes and the Spirit takes Philip away (39).

All the human responses to Scripture, all the discussions and events, fit into the framework of the divine initiative. God is on the way to us while we are travelling the lonely road, through the desert (verse 26). As we witness and as we search, we always discover that we are responding to a divine intervention in our lives. It is not our piety which brings us to God. The transformation is a result of God’s initiative and intervention, however closely it is linked with our human activities. We long and desire for God and God touches and fills our heart so that we find fulfillment. But long before this happens, long before our desires are awakened, God desired to be with us and reached out to us.

God responds to our desire and longing for the divine presence. But God does not respond because we desire and long for God. Long before we experience our desire and longing, God has reached out to us. This is all about grace. And this is why Spirituality is about God’s relationship with us (and not the other way round).

The Desire for God's word. On the difference between spiritual hermeneutics and traditional readings of the Bible.

We can never exhaust the meaning of Scripture - the mere fact of milions of sermons illustrates the inexhaustible nature of these texts. They generate meaning over centuries and all over the world. Scripture speaks to us in ever new ways. It mysteries are revealed to us time and again.

Spiritual hermeneutics or the spiritual reading of the Bible share with traditional readings of the Bible the conviction that we have to reflect carefully on Biblical texts in order to understand its meaning for our time and world. In Spiritual hermeneutics this attempt is called "meditatio" or the careful reflection on the text.

But, while traditional Bible reading speaks of "studying" the Bible, spiritual hermeneutics would rather speak of a dialogue with the God's word. God speaks to us in the human witnesses and we enter in a dialogue with them in order to fathom the mystery of the text.

The spiritual reading is not about understanding the "text." It is about a personal relationship. It is not merely a matter of studying letters and phrases and sentences. One is rather listening to Someone, to someone who is communicating with us through a text. It is about much more than understanding a text or its contents. We do not possess a text, we do not determine the meaning of a text. An author speaks with us and gives us clues to unravel the mysteries.

Look at the story of the Ethiopian in Acts 8 again. He is a believer who travels all the way to Jerusalem to pray in the temple. As a believer he then, on his way back, studies the Bible. He clearly desires to know more about his faith.

Luke emphasizes that he read the "prophet" Isaiah. He is not busy determining the contents of a book or a text. He asks in verse 34: "who is the prophet talking about - himself or someone else?" He is trying to understand the prophet.

From this dialogue with the prophet emerges a transformational experience. He takes the initiative and asks to be baptised. His faith is transfomed. What he read, changed his life forever. It is much more than understanding better. His reading set his heart aflame, like Scripture did to the Emmaus disciples (cf a previous blog). He desires to be baptized.

A spiritual reading of the Bible asssumes a relationship of faith with the One who is speaking in it. It is not the reading, but what happens through the reading which is important. The reading transforms, it reveals the mystery of God which creates new life.

The relational aspect is decisive because of what it implies. It is a risk to listen to God's word. It is not something which one can "understand" and which then leaves one unaffected. The Word of God can take one where one never thought one would end up. When God speaks, it can touch our lives in an awesome manner. That is why a spiritual reading assumes and promotes awe in the presence of God's mystery. Where God speaks, one stands in awe. Understanding is important, but it is only one dimension of the process of reading the Bible. More is at stake: what counts is also the "spirit" with which one reads the Bible. And how many ways are there in which we are reading the Bible: we read it "neutrally," "objectively," even patronizingly ("it is now so much more difficult to believe than in more primitive times....", etc).

A spiritual reading understands that the Holy Spirit who represents God's awesome, powerful presence in our midst, is at work the very moment we read the Bible. The Ethiopian had all sorts of questions. But ultimately he desired to be baptized, to be ingrained in the life according to the Spirit. Out of his reading of Scripture, his faith, came a transformative moment, a powerful conversion, which changed his life. No wonder he continued his journey with great joy (verse 39).

A spiritual reading reflects the desire to know more - more than mere knowledge. It reflects the desire to encounter the divine, transformative mystery. It is about transformation, about growing deeper in one's faith, about a closer relationship with God who speaks to us. And it reflects the conviction that the Bible plays a seminal role in this transformation and growth.

Traditionally we study the Bible to know more, to understand better. A spiritual reading would want to respond to this by saying it is not the understanding of the content of the Bible which is so important. What really counts is the difference this understanding makes in one's life and faith. That is why a spiritual reading is deeply linked with the desire to be with a powerful God.

The spiritual reading of the Bible and the established readings of Scripture. On the special nature of spiritual hermeneutics.

The question is often asked whether a spiritual reading of the Bible is really different from our established reading of Scripture. And especially theologians and pastors who are trained to read the Bible responsibly, want to know why their theological training is being reconsidered in Biblical Spirituality and Spiritual Hermeneutics. What is the diference, if there is one at all, between their theologically informed and exegetically refined reading of the Bible and a spiritual reading?

There are more than one way to explain the difference(s). But a key difference will be pointed out by reflecting in some depth on what our traditional readings of the Bible really are. In modern preaching, teaching and in theological and Biblical training, it is underlined that one should “understand” the text. The “contents” and “meaning” are paramount objectives of reading the Bible. And time and again there is a reference to the famous expression of Philip to the Ethiopian: “Do you understand what you are reading?” (Ac. 8:30). So “understanding” and “comprehension” of Bibilcal contents becomes first prize.

It will make much sense to investigate the fascinating story of the encounter between Philip (the relatively unknown apostle who plays such a decisive role in Acts 8) and the Ethiopian. It will help us to understand the special nature of a spiritual reading – or spiritual hemeneutics. It is even more illuminating when one compares this narrative with the Emmaus story in Luke 24 (cf some previous blogs). Both provide special insight in spiritual hermeneutics, but they also share some salient features.

According to Luke 24:27 Jesus explained Scripture and its relationship with Jesus in detail to the two disciples from Emmaus. The same focus on Scripture appears in Acts. The important man, the Ethiopian, sits on his chariot and reads aloud (Ac.8:30) from the prophet Isaiah. This then, is “lectio,” the first step in spiritual hermeneutics. It refers to an involved reading of the text. By reading the text in this way, it resonates with the reader – something that is, for example, prominent in Benedictine spirituality. Here, however, Luke 24:27 underlines also what the Ethiopian is reading.Luke explicitly quotes the passage from Isaiah (verses 32-33). The readers of Luke’s book become co-readers. They, like the Ethiopian, are also “reading” the text. Luke makes sure that they remain involved. Lectio appears in the text, but the text also promotes lectio. Lectio repeated!

But reading is not enough. Philip knows this. This is why he asks: Do you understand what you are reading? (verse 30 – though the Greek does not really use the word “understand”). And the Ehtiopian also knows this is important. He responds: “How can I unless someone ‘explains’ it to me”? The counterquestion underlines the need for explanation. I am quoting the NIV here. It is interesting that the word “explain” is used in this translation – which shows the pre-understanding of the translators of the book and which reflects the cerebral nature of our Bible reading. The Greek says something quite different, which, as we shall see, is decisive for spiritual hermeneutics. The Ethiopian actually said: “How can I if no one shows me the way?” (Later more on this). The Ethiopian knows lectio is not enough. He is reading and reading on his desert journey, but the way is unclear. And he is quick to begin to share his questions on the passage he is reading: “Is the prophet talking about himself or someone else?” (verse 34).


Lectio is important. This man on his lonely journey is on his way back from Jerusalem where he worshipped (verse 27). This is an important word in Luke and indicates dedication and commitment to faith. He worships, even if he does not understand fully. In this sense he is different than the two Emmaus-disciples, who, though close to Jesus, are somber and without hope. Hy keeps on reading and reading.They gave up Jerusalem - he had been worshipping there. But he also has his critical questions – illustrating that lectio is not enough. He wants to know the way. He reflected on what he read. With this a second dimension of spiritual reading is mooted: In his meditation he asks critical questions. Wat is happening in the text? About what or whom is the author speaking? What is meant? (More about this later).

It seems as if the Bible is read here in the same way as we are doing today when we study it with commentaries and with the help of experts. It is being read carefully and by asking critical questions. And, for sure, in this sense there is an overlap between spiritual hermeneutics and critical scholarship or modern Bible reading.

And yet, there is a difference between a critical reading and a spiritual reading, as we shall see. Here it can be noted very briefly that the difference has to dow ith the role of “understanding.” Understanding is important. But is is one dimension of spiritual hermeneutics. It follows after lectio – and this is already an indication that meditatio follows a first important step: one can worship God and still read the Bible with involvement – even if understanding is not immediately present. Though understanding is a condition – and an important one – it is not a pre-condition. Spiritual hermeneutics accounts for this. But more on this later.

Biblical Studies, the big names allege, focus on interpretation and on understanding. Spiritual hermeneutics will want to say: the focus is on spirituality, on faith experienced. That is rather different.

Velasquez: Emmaus

Here is another painting of the Emmaus story - this time by Velasquez. It hangs in the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art. I am presently doing some reading on this and other paintings on Emmaus. It is fascinating reading and I hope to write more about it later here.

Shocked. Rembrandt's early painting of the Emmaus story in Luke 24

In 1628 Rembrandt painted this version of the Emmaus narrative in Luke 24. Again he focusses on the table scene, but this time the portrait is as dramatic as the other one was quiet and intimate (cf. yesterday's blog). The disciple experiences with a shock who his companion at the table really is.

This is something to reflect on. I am busy tracing paintings on the Emmaus narrative. It is a fascinating search. More later.

Rembrandt and the Emmaus disciples

Rembrandt painted more than one version of the two disciples of Emmaus. This one, from 1648 (in the Louvre), focusses on Christ and the two disciples at the table. The figure of Christ is surrounded by and bathed in light, but the light also falls on the table, the place where the meal was served. And Christ is blessing the bread....

Desire and the presence of God

I remember the first time I saw Chagall’s stained-glass windows in the cathedral in Zürich, Switzerland. They were breathtakingly beautiful. I was moved in a simple, very ordinary manner by what I saw: the yellow, green, blue colours. The flowing forms. The Biblical motifs. All coming together in a special moment in which one feels a special desire to be with God, the One who is Beauty, who is Holiness. I experienced a desire to pray. I felt the need to dwell, to remain in this space. Even though my words and thoughts were completely inadequate to express the desire I felt, I knew that what I saw was preliminary, material, concrete – and yet I experienced immortality and Spirit and desired to have more.

Gradually I began to realize that my response with its desire to be with God was because of what God was doing to me. God was touching me. It was as if my eyes were directed to the windows, as if the windows said to me: “Look here!” Yellow, green and blue colours caught and held my eye. The flowing forms took me and lifted my heart skywards. God spoke to me in the Biblical motifs. Ultimately, it was not really about me looking at the windows. God was entering my life in this way and my desire was awakened because of the divine presence. Responding to the divine touch, I desired to know more, understand more, find words to speak about this, to fathom the Mystery of what is happening to me.

It is like a moth drawn to the Light – as if one wants to lose oneself in what is pure Light. It is looking in a mirror and seeing a mystery – and desiring the one day when one will see clearly, from countenance to countenance. It is ultimately all about the divine Presence.

On the presence of God in our lives. Contemplation in Luke 24.

The two books of Luke – the Gospel and Acts – are very concrete stories about Jesus and the apostles. But they are hugely symbolic. Both speak of the great journey – of the gospel of the earthly Jesus, and of the journey of the good news about the exalted Jesus in the lives of the apostles. In this greater journey there is the smaller journey of these two disciples on their way to Emmaus. They travel somberly, without hope. Theirs is not a triumphant journey.

I can imagine how they must have felt as they walked the lonely road to Emmaus.

And yet, they were not alone. While they were on the road, Jesus followed them. This smaller journey of the two disciples which frames their story in Luke 24, reveals, for me, the deepest dimension of the narrative. On the one hand there is the serious discussion between the two: they even question each other on the events that took place among them (verse15). It is journey which does not take place in silence. It is not a journey of people who are on their way to a funeral – silent and speechless. Theirs is a journey full of questions, talking, speaking – expressing their deep, inner feeling. According to verse 15 they questioned each other.

Luke wants to portray them as two people who were yearning for answers, struggling to find closure. They were talking about their deepest desires.

And, then, Jesus joins them. Later on, they would recognize him (verse 31). But the answer came to them much earlier. The story begins on a high note right at its beginning in verse 15 with the appearance of Jesus among them. The dramatic reversal sets in the moment Jesus approached them and walked with them.

One of the most pregnant moment of the mystical experience is the mystical antiphrasis: we yearn for God, we earnestly seek answers by praying to God. Already in our yearning, God is present.

Luke says that Jesus came to them and walked right into their discussion: “what are you talking about?” He is there, the one about whose absence they were talking so somberly and intensely. He follows them and immediately becomes a presence as they express their deepest feelings.

We can talk much about the absence of God. We think our journey is lonely and that we have been abandoned. And all the tims, Jesus saw us leaving, he heard us crying and he followed us. He was there – we just did not recognize Him.....

How sad that we do not recognize how our deepest yearning for God is already an indication of God’s presence in our lives.

Oratio: responding prayerfully to the touch of God. The Emmaus disciples 4.

I am still intrigued by new dimensions which I see in the story about the two disciples of Emmaus in Luke 24. Luke often associates deep symbolic meaning with his concrete narrative. He does so especially when he speaks of the actions of the two disciples of Emmaus after Jesus explained Scripture to them.

When they arrive in Emmaus, Jesus acted if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly: Stay with us, for it is nearly evening: the day is almost over” (verse 29).

This verse is related to what is said about the two disciples in verse 32. There they explain how their hearts were burning in them while Jesus talked with tehm on the road and opened the Scriptures to them. They had a special experience even though their hearts were slow to believe the prophets (verse 25). And yet, these slow hearts were burning hearts!

At their home in Emmaus, the two disciples invite Jesus into their homes. They “urge” him “strongly” to stay with them. The same word for urge is used in Acts 16:15 where Lidia, after her conversion, insists urgently that Paul stays over in her home. She “forced” them to stay there. The two disciples in Emmaus requests Jesus in a similar urgent manner to stay with them. Even though they do not recognize hims, even though they are foolish (verse 25), this is how they respond to what turned out to have been the divine touch on the road.

They respond with their burning hearts by inviting the One who spoke so powerfully, to remain with them.

This request was in reality yet another symbol of their prayer, of oratio. In our dark night, they are saying through this request, we want to be with You.

Something mystical was happening to them – and it had them praying. With this a fundamental dimension of mysticism is spelled out. The mystical experience cannot take place without a prayer of desire and yearning. It is all about oratio.

The most complete mysticism... On Brother Lawrence, the French mystic

Evelyn Underhill’s book, “The mystics of the church” has a wonderful two-page section on Brother Lawrence, the 17th century French mystic. I have revisited her remarks about this man several times because they are so fascinating.

She describes him as “the best known and loved of the French mystics” who wrote the “simple” book, “Practice of the Presence of God.”

Father Lawrence does not reveal any of the stages and disciplines of the other mystics. His mysticsm is much more simple, sober, natural.

As an 18 year old, he experienced a conversion after which he simply decided to leave behind the world. He had no self-interest.

This conversion experience also filled him with the love of God. He had a period of four years in which he suffered much because of various reasons, but then he “passed to a perfect liberty and continual joy.”

As I read these remarks, I get the feeling to add: "Just like that!" He simply became like that, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

Brother Lawrence simple mysticism was accompanied by an even simpler lifestyle. He joined a monastery where he did hard, manual work.

And, to crown all, the manual work which he disliked so much, never kept him from contemplating God.

Underhill writes. “Such freedom and suppleness of soul – a characteristic on which Francois de Sales and Lawrence lay equal stress – means in practice a level of spirituality which is less startling, but far more complete, than the entranced contemplations of the ecstatic withdrawn from active affairs.”

Lawrence wrote how he once went to buy wine for the convent where he worked as handyman and how he said to God that it was God’s business the was about to do. Shooping for wine as God's business... And after he bought the wine, he was proud of how well he did it....

This, Underhill writes, witness to a real transfiguration of human personality, completely transfused by the Divine power and love.

I keep on thinking about this transfiguration of one’s personality so that it is completely transfused by Divine power and love. It seems the right thing to do, the straightforward option: live in God's love - it is after all the most precious gift one can desire.

And, I wonder, why, then, do we not all do so? What keeps us from being always in this love?

I know people who are living completely and fully in God's love as if it is the most natural thing to do.

Underhill quotes a letter which Brother Lawrence wrote about himself in which he notes that he grew so accustomed to the Divine Presence that it succours him at all times. He is so filled with joy – so continually and sometimes so transcendent that he is forced to use means to moderate them and to prevent their appearing outwardly!

So, I wonder and marvel, one can become carried away by the divine love!

When, sometimes, he gets too busy with his manual work, he observes, God recalls him. He feels this and he promptly answers to those inward drawings. He would then say such phrases like, “My God, behold me, wholle Thine; Lord make me according to Thy heart.” And then it seems to him as if God, satisfied by these words, resposes again and rests in the depth and centre of his soul.



This is beautiful. Natural, sober mysticism of love. Complete new, fulfilled life in the divine love.

The Visio Dei: We can only know ourselves in the light of our experience of God

Calvin’s Institutes, which represent his theology and spirituality, begins with the way in which we experience our faith – which is really what spirituality is all about. He focusses on how we see ourselves and contrasts with this how we should regard ourselves. It is striking to see what significant role contemplation of God plays in Calvin’s institutes in this regard.

Calvin was critical about the way in which we overestimate our own importance, wisdom, righteousness, holiness and merit. In this hubris and self-pride, we lack true self-knowledge.

The only way we can arrive at a true understanding of ourselves is by contemplating the face of God. He therefore writes in the second paragraph of his opening chapter on our lack of self-knowledge which he says we need to overcome by looking at the Lord. Several times he underlines how important it is for us to experience God’s presence – only then will we be able to live faith. “We need,” he writes, “to raise our thoughts to God.”

This is how he formulates it (note how he repeatedly refers to the need to experience God - to have a visio Dei:

“2. On the other hand, it is evident that man never attains to a true self-knowledge until he has previously contemplated the face of God, and come down after such contemplation to look into himself. For (such is our innate pride) we always seem to ourselves just, and upright, and wise, and holy, until we are convinced, by clear evidence, of our injustice, vileness, folly, and impurity. Convinced, however, we are not, if we look to ourselves only, and not to the Lord also —He being the only standard by the application of which this conviction can be produced.... If, at mid-day, we either look down to the ground, or on the surrounding objects which lie open to our view, we think ourselves endued with a very strong and piercing eyesight; but when we look up to the sun, and gaze at it unveiled, the sight which did excellently well for the earth is instantly so dazzled and confounded by the refulgence, as to oblige us to confess that our acuteness in discerning terrestrial objects is mere dimness when applied to the sun. Thus too, it happens in estimating our spiritual qualities. So long as we do not look beyond the earth, we are quite pleased with our own righteousness, wisdom, and virtue; we address ourselves in the most flattering terms, and seem only less than demigods. But should we once begin to raise our thoughts to God, and reflect what kind of Being he is, and how absolute the perfection of that righteousness, and wisdom, and virtue, to which, as a standard, we are bound to be conformed, what formerly delighted us by its false show of righteousness will become polluted with the greatest iniquity; what strangely imposed upon us under the name of wisdom will disgust by its extreme folly; and what presented the appearance of virtuous energy will be condemned as the most miserable impotence. So far are those qualities in us, which seem most perfect, from corresponding to the divine purity.”

Spirituality and sin

Calvinism is often described as a heavy, somber tradition with much emphasis on sin. It is true that Calvin wrote much about sin. And it is also true that certain forms of Calvinism have a very somber character. And it is equally true that one can become unbalanced and even pathological about sin and its dark hold on one’s life.

But then one should understand Calvin’s comments on sin within his spirituality. It happens, for example, that one may “knows” about one's sin without challenging it. Often believers live with sin, accept it, rationalize it and even accommodate it in some way or other. We tend to play down the destructive role of sin in our lives.

It is in the nature of sin that it makes one “hard” or “insensitive” for that which separates us from God.

Against this relativizing of sin, Calvin stresses that one should not only have an awareness of sin, but one should also feel contrition and remorse. One can talk much about sin without being transformed from it. Spirituality reflects an awareness of one’s own lack of holiness and of one’s own sinfulness. From this perspective, one cannot reflect enough about sin.

Whilst one can have an unhealthy, even pathological fascination with sin, one can also fall in the trap not to understand how one's inner worth is being destroyed by forces of evil which one allows in your life.

The infinite sweetness of the divine goodness – the notion of God in Calvin's spirituality

In my reflection on Calvinist spirituality, it struck me how much Calvin emphasizes God’s power. In his Spirituality the aim of faith experience and of sanctification is to bring to God all the glory because of God's mighty deeds and works.

In my further reading on this I came across an article in the Brittanica in which it is said how Calvin did indeed speak about God's power, but that he, in addition, also carefully wanted to depict God as a loving father.

This contributed to the misunderstanding that Calvinism is one of the most patriarchal forms of Christianity. And yet, the article continues, Calvin wrote movingly about how we experience God as a mother, as “mild, kind, gentle, and compassionate.” He wanted to stress this side of God's character because he he was upset that some of his contemporaries overemphasized the fear of God. God must not be portrayed as a God who must be dreaded.

The article continues, “Human beings can never praise him properly, Calvin declared, ‘until he wins us by the sweetness of his goodness.’” Calvin’s understanding of Christianity is thus in many ways gentler than has been commonly supposed.

I follow this insight up with some further research,also checking Calvin's own pronouncements. And it strikes me how often he speaks about the sweetness of the divine goodness (e g in his commentary on John 11). In a work on Psalm 119 he also writes about the divine sweetness which brings us to love God. And it is this sweetness which also inspires us to sanctification.

I want to think more about this. As we stay close to the "sweet" word of God, the God of love and compassion, we are filled by this love. It flows over into us and nestles in our hearts. If we are found by this love, Calvin writes, we will be able to resist temptation.

It is true that we often chase things which we think will give us love and fulfillment. Only to discover that these earthly, fleshly desires leaves us cold, unfulfilled, unclean.

Calvinist spirituality

Calvinistic spirituality is the one form and tradition of spirituality which is not often discussed. In 2009 Calvinists celebrate the 500th birthday of Jean Calvin, the Genevan reformer who had such a huge influence in Switzerland, France, The Netherlands, Scotland, the U.S.A. and South Africa.

Calvinist spritiuality has many forms – a.o. Presbyterian, Reformed, Dutch Reformed and several others. And yet one can say that this spirituality displays certain common characteristics.

There is the conviction that God took the initiative in the divine-human relationship and that God played a decisive role in the salvation of humanity. God does not only begin, but also completes and realizes salvation. Even faith is ultimately a gift of grace from God.

The Latin phrase: “soli Deo gloria” therefor represents one of the fundamental convictions in Calvinism. To God alone belongs the glory and honour for the good that is happening in this world and in humanity.

Calvinism did not lapse into speculative theology. God is consistently seen as a God who reaches out in love to humanity. God desired salvation for humanity.

Closely linked with this is another feature of Calvinist spirituality, namely its awareness of human sinfulness. God plays such a decisive role because of the complete inability and corrupt nature of humanity. In some forms Calvinism would display a dark, somber attitude towards human potential. Salvation as God’s grace is given to humanity. Humanity is totally depraved. The sinfulness of humanity is experienced intensely. In Calvinist worhsip, for example, confession of sin is one of the first elements: one cannot but approach God with a sense of sinfulness and of one's transgressions.

But closely linked with this inner conviction of human sinfulness there is also the firm confession that through Christ alone salvation is granted to humanity. It is a key conviction that confession of sin should always be linked with the celebration of God's grace and forgiveness as they were expressed in the life and ministry of Jesus. Reconciliation takes place between God and humanity exclusively through Christ. Through faith in Christ the power of sin is broken and humanity is given a new status.

With that one is brought to Calvinist perspective on the Holy Spiritu. Those who have received forgiveness of sin, has to live a life of gratitude. Through the Holy Spirit humanity is empowered to serve God – not only in its personal life, but in all relationships.

It is this life of gratitude, the challenge to respond to God’s love and grace in Christ, which is a seminal aspect of Calvinist spirituality. What one believes, should be lived. There is no interiority without exteriority. Calvinism is about doing, making a difference, living faith.


These are a few introductory remarks. It will be worthwhile to develop some of them in more detail. In short then, like all forms of Spirituality, Calvinist spirituality speaks about the relationship of God with humanity. Typical is that the transformation that happens in this relationship is completely and totally God's work. Humanity can only respond in gratitude to the divine intervention and action - and even this response is a matter of grace. Finally, it is typical of Calvinist sprituality that it emphasizes that faith must be experienced, must be lived in a life of gratitude.And this life of gratitude must be lived in terms of the whole existence of humanity and creation.

When human experience and the divine word interact. On yearning for God.

Spirituality is about faith experienced. It can also be described as “lived” faith.

But the word experience may be misleading, because it could easily deceive people to think that Sprituality is about emotions or feelings. And this creates apprehension, because we know too well that feelings can be misleading – that what one feels at moments of ecstacy may disappear the next moment when one experiences dark and unhappy feelings.

Spirituality is not about emotional faith. It is about experienced faith which may include emotions. It is not about feelings, but about involvement, commitment, self-implication in which feelings may play a role.

Spirituality surely includes emotions, but the experience in spirituality is about much more than emotions. The two disciples in the Emmaus episode are involved with all their feelings in what overfalls them after the message about the empty grave. They are deeply immersed in their mutual conversation. In Luke 24:17 they respond to Jesus’ question abouth what they are discussing by standing still with somber faces. They then talk with Jesus – not about their feelings so much as about their experience. But indirectly we see also how they felt about Jesus. They recount the past moments they experienced with Jesus. It is a story which reveals how deeply committed they were to Jesus and how they experienced Him as a powerful messenger of God. “He was powerful in word and deed,” a “prophet.” They admired Him for his piety, his journey with God, his spirituality. They were impressed and astonished by all these things. They experienced Him as the hope for Israel’s salvation. He was for them the embodiment of all God’s promises to God’s people of all ages. Not only their feelings, but all of their experiences and encounters with Jesus fill their memory and their faith.

And then the disaster of the cross and the empty grave overfell them (verses 20 and 24) – with, the greatest setback: Jesus is nowhere in sight.

So they share their emotions, but also their wider experiences with Jesus. They speak about their hopes when they were with Jesus, but also about their disillusionment when He was no longer to be seen. All their experiences of their years with Jesus are shared with the stranger who walks the way with them. Jesus touched their hearts, formed their lives, shaped their expectations, inspired them with hope, but now their hearts, previously so committed to his cause, were broken, in pieces, shattered. They are without hope, shocked, but they also experience that they no longer know what to think. They had seen the Light, but now they are in darkness. They hoped, but now they are leaving all their aspirations and expectations behind to return to their previous, old existence. They have experienced for years the power of Jesus’ presence among them, now they travel without Him, with empty hearts, with only their empty words which they share with each other.

What an “experience – these ups and downs, these light and dark moments in the spiritual journey!” One does not wish this nightmare with the bitter end, their disillusionment, even to one’s enemies. It must have been cruel to them as intimate disciples of Jesus. After the intensity of the divine presence in the live and person of Jesus, there is this void, this loneliness. They are experiencing the valleys of despair after the mountain – moments of glory. This is their “experience.” They are not speaking vaguely about some events among them. They are speaking about what happened to them, how deeply they were aware of the divine acts and presence in their recent experiences. They share their spirituality with Jesus: how they experience their faith and how they are experiencing it, also in this desperate journey to Emmaus.

But, see the other side of this picture. The conversation is not only about their experiences. We see this already in their report about Jesus. They are involved in what they are saying about Jesus, but all the time they are still speaking about Jesus. They are meditating, speaking, reflecting about Jesus, holding on to their memory of Him. They remain focussed on Jesus. It is all about their experience, but then the experience of the divine Presence and involvement in their lives as something and Someone outside themselves. They are still, in this dark moment, looking at the divine intervention in their existence.

Here two poles intersect – the divine and the human pole. They are somber, sad and without hope. But they also have been changed by the divine touch, by something, Someone outside themselves. They are still reflecting on God, Jesus, intimacy, power, hope, life.

There is this polar tension between the divine and the human. This is, then, what spirituality is all about – about the polar tension in the relationship between God and humanity. What we experience and what God does are often in a painful conflict.

Jesus does not make it much easier for the two disciples in this tension. He gives no miraculous self-revelation to them. He does no miracles or does not reveal that He is the resurrected one.

He takes the long road and opens the Bible. Let us trace the footsteps of God through the history of salvation. Look back at the divine deeds of God throughout the ages. Reflect on the divine actions long before you were even aware of Jesus. Remember, always remember that this is your salvation – that you are part of God’s great, great deeds throughout all times, part of the community of saints whose collective wisdom speaks about the mystery of God’s powerful, though often inexplicable involvement in human existence. Always live close to this collective wisdom, this understanding of the divine revelation by the many saints of all times. By engaging with them as they speak of God, you will be receiving new life, you will be initiated into the deeper wisdom, entering in ever intenser manner the mystery of God’s relationship with humanity. This is how Jesus travels with them on their spiritual journey in the new dispensation after his resurrection. If you want your broken hearts to be healed, reach out to the witnesses who spoke previously out of their experience of God’s faithfulness and love. After all, it is not “my” will, but the Father’s will which needs to be done. Bitter. The Father’s will can so often transcend our understanding. But so does, thankfully, the divine peace as well – which comes to those who live according to the divine will.

Later, the two understood this better. Then they realized why this difficult road was the better one. As they listened and meditated with Jesus on God’s word, Scripture once again set ablaze a desire in their hearts: “were not our hearts burning in us when He talked to us and opened up Scripture?” Their experience of Jesus before the resurrection and now their experience of the witness of the ages brought about a new mystical experience in them: fire burned in them. They desire for God was rekindled. They were empowered to pray, to reach out to God who has been talking to them in Scripture.

This is, then, what happens when Scripture as the witness of wisdom meets our experiences. What we have encountered in so many of our experiences, gets tested and challenged by what we read in Scriptures, in the words of wisdom, in the words of life. We reflect about who we are and what is happening to us in the light of the wisdom of all ages. And then, often, we begin to see how God really acts. And we begin to realize with awe how differently God often acts – against all expectations, even against our own will. We understand that our despair is the result of our own shortsightedness and our own servility to our will. And, as the flame of desire burns in us, we realize that our salvation is not to be found in our experiences, or in what we want, but in the divine Love who enters our experiences and opens our eyes for the new life which God gives, for the different, compassionate and unusual new ways in which God often acts. Without this light of Scripture, without the wisdom of the saints of all times, we will not survive.

Our faith is irrevocable and intricately linked to the powerful words of wisdom which God has given us as the light on our spirituality journey. Through them we are empowerd, we are given new hope, our desire for the divine Presence is rekindled. When we have come to the end of the road, in a mysterious way, God touches our innermost being and brings us to pray.

When human experience and the divine word interact. On yearning for God.

Spirituality is about faith experienced. It can also be described as “lived” faith.

But the word experience may be misleading, because it could easily deceive people to think that Sprituality is about emotions or feelings. And this creates apprehension, because we know too well that feelings can be misleading – that what one feels at moments of ecstacy may disappear the next moment when one experiences dark and unhappy feelings.

Spirituality is not about emotional faith. It is about experienced faith. It is not about feelings, but about involvement, commitment, self-implication.

Spirituality surely includes emotions, but the experience in spirituality is about much more than emotions. The two disciples in the Emmaus episode are involved with all their feelings in what overfalls them after the message about the empty grave. They are deeply immersed in their mutual conversation. In Luke 24:17 they respond to Jesus’ question abouth what they are discussing by standing still with somber faces. They then talk with Jesus – not about their feelings so much as about their experience. But indirectly we see also how they felt about Jesus. They recount the past moments they experienced with Jesus. It is a story which reveals how deeply committed they were to Jesus and how they experienced Him as a powerful messenger of God. “He was powerful in word and deed,” a “prophet.” They admired Him for his piety, his journey with God, his spirituality. They were impressed and astonished by all these things. They experienced Him as the hope for Israel’s salvation. He was for them the embodiment of all God’s promises to God’s people of all ages. Not only their feelings, but all of their experiences and encounters with Jesus fill their memory and their faith.

And then the disaster of the cross and the empty grave overfell them (verses 20 and 24) – with, the greatest setback: Jesus is nowhere in sight.

So they share their emotions, but also their wider experiences with Jesus. They speak about their hopes when they were with Jesus, but also about their disillusionment when He was no longer to be seen. All their experiences of their years with Jesus are shared with the stranger who walks the way with them. Jesus touched their hearts, formed their lives, shaped their expectations, inspired them with hope, but now their hearts, previously so committed to his cause, were broken, in pieces, shattered. They are without hope, shocked, but they also experience that they no longer know what to think. They had seen the Light, but now they are in darkness. They hoped, but now they are leaving all their aspirations and expectations behind to return to their previous, old existence. They have experienced for years the power of Jesus’ presence among them, now they travel without Him, with empty hearts, with only their empty words which they share with each other.

What an “experience – these ups and downs, these light and dark moments in the spiritual journey!” One does not wish this nightmare with the bitter end, their disillusionment, even to one’s enemies. It must have been cruel to them as intimate disciples of Jesus. After the intensity of the divine presence in the live and person of Jesus, there is this void, this loneliness. They are experiencing the valleys of despair after the mountain – moments of glory. This is their “experience.” They are not speaking vaguely about some events among them. They are speaking about what happened to them, how deeply they were aware of the divine acts and presence in their recent experiences. They share their spirituality with Jesus: how they experience their faith and how they are experiencing it, also in this desperate journey to Emmaus.

But, see the other side of this picture. The conversation is not only about their experiences. We see this already in their report about Jesus. They are involved in what they are saying about Jesus, but all the time they are still speaking about Jesus. They are meditating, speaking, reflecting about Jesus, holding on to their memory of Him. They remain focussed on Jesus. It is all about their experience, but then the experience of the divine Presence and involvement in their lives as something and Someone outside themselves. They are still, in this dark moment, looking at the divine intervention in their existence.

Here two poles intersect – the divine and the human pole. They are somber, sad and without hope. But they also have been changed by the divine touch, by something, Someone outside themselves. They are still reflecting on God, Jesus, intimacy, power, hope, life.

There is this polar tension between the divine and the human. This is, then, what spirituality is all about – about the polar tension in the relationship between God and humanity. What we experience and what God does are often in a painful conflict.

Jesus does not make it much easier for the two disciples in this tension. He gives no miraculous self-revelation to them. He does no miracles or does not reveal that He is the resurrected one.

He takes the long road and opens the Bible. Let us trace the footsteps of God through the history of salvation. Look back at the divine deeds of God throughout the ages. Reflect on the divine actions long before you were even aware of Jesus. Remember, always remember that this is your salvation – that you are part of God’s great, great deeds throughout all times, part of the community of saints whose collective wisdom speaks about the mystery of God’s powerful, though often inexplicable involvement in human existence. Always live close to this collective wisdom, this understanding of the divine revelation by the many saints of all times. By engaging with them as they speak of God, you will be receiving new life, you will be initiated into the deeper wisdom, entering in ever intenser manner the mystery of God’s relationship with humanity. This is how Jesus travels with them on their spiritual journey in the new dispensation after his resurrection. If you want your broken hearts to be healed, reach out to the witnesses who spoke previously out of their experience of God’s faithfulness and love. After all, it is not “my” will, but the Father’s will which needs to be done. Bitter. The Father’s will can so often transcend our understanding. But so does, thankfully, the divine peace as well – which comes to those who live according to the divine will.

Later, the two understood this better. Then they realized why this difficult road was the better one. As they listened and meditated with Jesus on God’s word, Scripture once again set ablaze a desire in their hearts: “were not our hearts burning in us when He talked to us and opened up Scripture?” Their experience of Jesus before the resurrection and now their experience of the witness of the ages brought about a new mystical experience in them: fire burned in them. They desire for God was rekindled. They were empowered to pray, to reach out to God who has been talking to them in Scripture.

This is, then, what happens when Scripture as the witness of wisdom meets our experiences. What we have encountered in so many of our experiences, gets tested and challenged by what we read in Scriptures, in the words of wisdom, in the words of life. We reflect about who we are and what is happening to us in the light of the wisdom of all ages. And then, often, we begin to see how God really acts. And we begin to realize with awe how differently God often acts – against all expectations, even against our own will. We understand that our despair is the result of our own shortsightedness and our own servility to our will. And, as the flame of desire burns in us, we realize that our salvation is not to be found in our experiences, or in what we want, but in the divine Love who enters our experiences and opens our eyes for the new life which God gives, for the different, compassionate and unusual new ways in which God often acts. Without this light of Scripture, without the wisdom of the saints of all times, we will not survive.

Our faith is irrevocable and intricately linked to the powerful words of wisdom which God has given us as the light on our spirituality journey. Through them we are empowerd, we are given new hope, our desire for the divine Presence is rekindled. When we have come to the end of the road, in a mysterious way, God touches our innermost being and brings us to pray.

When human experience and the divine word interact. On yearning for God.

Spirituality is about faith experienced. It can also be described as “lived” faith.

But the word experience may be misleading, because it could easily deceive people to think that Sprituality is about emotions or feelings. And this creates apprehension, because we know too well that feelings can be misleading – that what one feels at moments of ecstacy may disappear the next moment when one experiences dark and unhappy feelings.

Spirituality surely includes emotions, but the experience in spirituality is about much more than emotions. The two disciples in the Emmaus episode are involved with all their feelings in what overfalls them after the message about the empty grave. They are deeply immersed in their mutual conversation. In Luke 24:17 they respond to Jesus’ question abouth what they are discussing by standing still with somber faces. They then talk with Jesus – not about their feelings so much as about their experience. But indirectly we see also how they felt about Jesus. They recount the past moments they experienced with Jesus. It is a story which reveals how deeply committed they were to Jesus and how they experienced Him as a powerful messenger of God. “He was powerful in word and deed,” a “prophet.” They admired Him for his piety, his journey with God, his spirituality. They were impressed and astonished by all these things. They experienced Him as the hope for Israel’s salvation. He was for them the embodiment of all God’s promises to God’s people of all ages. Not only their feelings, but all of their experiences and encounters with Jesus fill their memory and their faith.

And then the disaster of the cross and the empty grave overfell them (verses 20 and 24) – with, the greatest setback: Jesus is nowhere in sight.

So they share their emotions, but also their wider experiences with Jesus. They speak about their hopes when they were with Jesus, but also about their disillusionment when He was no longer to be seen. All their experiences of their years with Jesus are shared with the stranger who walks the way with them. Jesus touched their hearts, formed their lives, shaped their expectations, inspired them with hope, but now their hearts, previously so committed to his cause, were broken, in pieces, shattered. They are without hope, shocked, but they also experience that they no longer know what to think. They had seen the Light, but now they are in darkness. They hoped, but now they are leaving all their aspirations and expectations behind to return to their previous, old existence. They have experienced for years the power of Jesus’ presence among them, now they travel without Him, with empty hearts, with only their empty words which they share with each other.

What an “experience – these ups and downs, these light and dark moments in the spiritual journey!” One does not wish this nightmare with the bitter end, their disillusionment, even to one’s enemies. It must have been cruel to them as intimate disciples of Jesus. After the intensity of the divine presence in the live and person of Jesus, there is this void, this loneliness. They are experiencing the valleys of despair after the mountain – moments of glory. This is their “experience.” They are not speaking vaguely about some events among them. They are speaking about what happened to them, how deeply they were aware of the divine acts and presence in their recent experiences. They share their spirituality with Jesus: how they experience their faith and how they are experiencing it, also in this desperate journey to Emmaus.

But, see the other side of this picture. The conversation is not only about their experiences. We see this already in their report about Jesus. They are involved in what they are saying about Jesus, but all the time they are still speaking about Jesus. They are meditating, speaking, reflecting about Jesus, holding on to their memory of Him. They remain focussed on Jesus. It is all about their experience, but then the experience of the divine Presence and involvement in their lives as something and Someone outside themselves. They are still, in this dark moment, looking at the divine intervention in their existence.

Here two poles intersect – the divine and the human pole. They are somber, sad and without hope. But they also have been changed by the divine touch, by something, Someone outside themselves. They are still reflecting on God, Jesus, intimacy, power, hope, life.

There is this polar tension between the divine and the human. This is, then, what spirituality is all about – about the polar tension in the relationship between God and humanity. What we experience and what God does are often in a painful conflict.

Jesus does not make it much easier for the two disciples in this tension. He gives no miraculous self-revelation to them. He does no miracles or does not reveal that He is the resurrected one.

He takes the long road and opens the Bible. Let us trace the footsteps of God through the history of salvation. Look back at the divine deeds of God throughout the ages. Reflect on the divine actions long before you were even aware of Jesus. Remember, always remember that this is your salvation – that you are part of God’s great, great deeds throughout all times, part of the community of saints whose collective wisdom speaks about the mystery of God’s powerful, though often inexplicable involvement in human existence. Always live close to this collective wisdom, this understanding of the divine revelation by the many saints of all times. By engaging with them as they speak of God, you will be receiving new life, you will be initiated into the deeper wisdom, entering in ever intenser manner the mystery of God’s relationship with humanity. This is how Jesus travels with them on their spiritual journey in the new dispensation after his resurrection. If you want your broken hearts to be healed, reach out to the witnesses who spoke previously out of their experience of God’s faithfulness and love. After all, it is not “my” will, but the Father’s will which needs to be done. Bitter. The Father’s will can so often transcend our understanding. But so does, thankfully, the divine peace as well – which comes to those who live according to the divine will.

Later, the two understood this better. Then they realized why this difficult road was the better one. As they listened and meditated with Jesus on God’s word, Scripture once again set ablaze a desire in their hearts: “were not our hearts burning in us when He talked to us and opened up Scripture?” Their experience of Jesus before the resurrection and now their experience of the witness of the ages brought about a new mystical experience in them: fire burned in them. They desire for God was rekindled. They were empowered to pray, to reach out to God who has been talking to them in Scripture.

This is, then, what happens when Scripture as the witness of wisdom meets our experiences. What we have encountered in so many of our experiences, gets tested and challenged by what we read in Scriptures, in the words of wisdom, in the words of life. We reflect about who we are and what is happening to us in the light of the wisdom of all ages. And then, often, we begin to see how God really acts. And we begin to realize with awe how differently God often acts – against all expectations, even against our own will. We understand that our despair is the result of our own shortsightedness and our own servility to our will. And, as the flame of desire burns in us, we realize that our salvation is not to be found in our experiences, or in what we want, but in the divine Love who enters our experiences and opens our eyes for the new life which God gives, for the different, compassionate and unusual new ways in which God often acts. Without this light of Scripture, without the wisdom of the saints of all times, we will not survive.

Our faith is irrevocable and intricately linked to the powerful words of wisdom which God has given us as the light on our spirituality journey. Through them we are empowerd, we are given new hope, our desire for the divine Presence is rekindled. When we have come to the end of the road, in a mysterious way, God touches our innermost being and brings us to pray.

Kierkegaard, the mystic: on the source experience in Spirituality.

The famous author, Kierkegaard (1913-1855) is one of the great figures in the history of Western thought. Hy is known as philosopher and theologian, but is also regarded as a mystic - although his mysticism is not always spelled out.

After a long period in which he was invoved in a life of debauchery, he returned home as a 25 year old. On 19 May 1838 he wrote about the following remarkable experience.

Hy notes that that morning at 10h30 something happened with him and then writes:

“There is something like ‘inexpressible joy’ which glows inexplicably through us just as Paul wrote rather unexpectedly: ‘Rejoice, I repeat, rejoice.’ It is not a joy about this or that.. but it is the soul which cries out with the mouth and tongue and from the depths of its heart. I rejoice over my joy, through, in, with, on and over my joy,’ – a divine refrain which interrups our other singing, a joy which cools and refreshes like a breath of air. A wind which blows from the plains of Mamer to the eternal home.”

Kierkegaard refers here to Paul's remarks about joy in Philippians 4:4, but it seems as if he finds it difficult to express these special moments in his life. It is moments which defy language. It is, though, about joy – an intense, overwhelming moment which reminds him – of Scripture – and – of one single verse in Paul’s letter to Philippians. (Which gives one a special new insight on that verse!). And its sets a fire going: joy "glows" in him. It is something which touces him in his innermost being and makes him cry out from the depths of his heart.

This experience transformed him completely. He was reconciled with his father. And two months later he took the unusual step - for a Lutheran – to go to confession, whereafter he took holy communion. This was how he brought his mystical experience to closure. But it was the beginning of his career in which he became a prolific author of very influential books.

In spirituality we talk about a "source experience." This religious experience which he recounts in his diary was Kierkegaard’s source experience. It is that fundamental moment, the life changing moment, in which one stands before God and feels the divine, awesome touch. And, in Kierkegaard’s case, it brought him infinite joy which permeated his whole being. This special moment becomes the source and foundation of a new life.

It is sheer beauty which confronts us here. The beauty of God reaching out and setting our hearts aglow, bringing new life.

This story reminds one of the mystical experience which Pascal, the other famous author, also had (cf. my blog on that).

Fear of God or in awe before God?

We often read about the "fear of God". Many people dislike the word “fear”, because they associate it with anxiety and distress. It is a word which, they feel, has a threatening tone.

But the Biblical word “fear” evokes the meaning of “awe” more than it refers to anxiety. Spirituality often reflects on God as the One who initiates our transformation, who is powerful and strong to change us and who guides us powerfully, through the Spirit, in this process of transformation. It is all about Power, the Spirit, tongues of fire.

Spirituality therefore speaks of the touch of God which changes our lives irrevocably. It is an awesome touch. It consumes evil like fire a piece of paper. It restores us to new life. We stand in awe before the powerful work of God in our lives and in world.

If we stand in awe before God, it brings about feelings of respect and love in us. As awesome as the touch it, so gentle is it as well. And awe brings admiration and worship. We do not cringe before a God for whom we are afraid. We do not worship fearfully. We participate in adoration. Our spiritual journey is filled with trust and love for a God before whom we stand in awe and who is a God who changes everything. We celebrate the divine initiative and power. God is almighty, strong, powerful. That is why we trust and love God. And when we love God, we do not act like servants. We heed the divine commandments because we experience awe, respect and love. God, the Powerful one, is the one who grants the power to us, so that we can become lovers of God, so that we can become friends of God. We are truly privileged to be granted this gift. And for that we, once again, and, mystically, stand in awe.

Fear if God can never be without love of God.

The Spirit speaks through Scripture: On Protestant Spirituality

Spirituality is in many ways a difficult term to understand for laypeople. It is a term which has been used mainly in recent years to express how faith is experienced.

Many people are uncertain about its meaning, they even have problems pronouncing it when they hear it for the first time. And, as is to be expected, they feel uncertain, even threatened by it, with, as a consequence a negative feeling.

It is helpful to recognise the word "spirituality" as a word which focusses on the “Spirit" and thus the Holy Spirit. Spirituality has to do with a life in the Spirit. Hermeneutics, the science of interpretation or understanding, which every theologian and pastor know as an important part of their training, becomes within Spirituality, “spiritual hermeneutics” which is interpretation with a spiritual character.

Among Protestants there are reservations because some confuse it with spiritism – the communication with the dead, which is certainly not what it is. Or others think it has to do with an excessive emotionalism, with ecstatic, uncontrolled experiences or with a work righteousness which reflects a sanctimonious attitude.

But Spirituality is nothing of this kind.

When one speaks with Protestants they always claim certain important acts of piety as typical of their tradition. They speak, for example, in quite a natural manner of sanctification. To live holy, is to live a life in obedience to the Spirit. In a simple manner this means one has “quiet time” each day in the morning and/or evening. People do this in their rooms as personal Bible study or also with their families. Then one reads the Bible first, reflects on it and prays. One would also go to church on a Sunday where much is made of preaching the “Word.”

In all these cases there is a focus on The Word of God. This is an important feature of Protestant piety or spirituality. although there are many others. In Protestant Spirituality one could translate these acts of piety as meaning that the Spirit speaks to believers through the Word of God. Therefore one has respect for the Bible and takes it as a guideline for one’s life.

Though Spirituality is a new word, it actually reflects very important traditions – of which only one example has been named here. Spirituality is then about how the relationship between God and humanity changes people over a period of time. It includes sanctification, but it is also more than this. In Protestantism this process of transformation is typically and closely linked with Scripture as the exclusive and only source of sanctification. In other traditions similar thoughts are found, but they are expressed differently.

Spirituality is a modern term which refers to one of the deepest dimensions of human existence.

A sad farewell. The role of nature in our lives.

This afternoon, as I returned from my daily exercise, I heard the screeching noise of chain saws. A team of tree cutters were felling a huge oak tree right in front of the church in the heart of Stellenbosch - one of the most famous landmark of our town.


We live among oak trees of which some are 200 years. To lose them is a disaster. I often walk past them and touch them, like one touches a picture of someone special who is not with you any more. These trees are also sick. They are not indigenous and therefore attacked by fungi. So we care for them and we see them go with deep sorrow.



As I was taking pictures, I appreciated the remaining trees. But I know that the small tree, planted next to the one which died today, will need decades and decades to take is place.


Here are some pictures:





















And then, as a small consolation, I saw the beautiful white flowers in the garden opposite the church. Looking at the white, I understood a bit more why white clothes are symbolic of the righteous.

Scriptures makes the heart burn with desire: on Oratio as a seminal moment in our spiritual journey. (The Emmaus discipels 3)

When we meditate on Scripture, Guigo said when he wrote about lectio divina, it is like a cow ruminating food. The food, the words of Scripture, gets “rechewed”, over and over again. In the story about the two disciples form Emmaus, this happens when Jesus travels with them and gives them a "Bible study" on the road.

So many times during his ministry Jesus had spoken to his disciples about himself in terms of Scripture, ruminating about God’s word for his life. The two disciples understood a bit of this: they speak of Jesus as a “prophet” and of Him as the “hope of Israel” (Lk 24:19-21). They understand the link with the past. But Jesus finds it necessary to let them “rechew” Scripture again. He ruminates the food he gave them so many times before: In verses 25-27 he once again explains “what was said in all Scriptures concerning himself.” Together with them, he meditates on Scripture.

Their sadness and despair is reason enough for Him to bring them to hear, to read, to listen to words of God. Their human experience of their relationship with God had to be tested again in terms of the divine words. Their spirituality is brought back to the heart of the matter – that is, to what God wants and says. To meditate, to reflect on the deeper meaning of life, to be liberated from our somberness, we need to go to the divine words.

Jesus’ Bible study contains a short message: Scripture, He says to them, tells that the Christ “has” to suffer these things. But there is much more: he suffers so that he may “enter in his glory.” The word “glory” reminds one of the Old Testament motif of kabod, which symbolizes the overpowering, glorious Presence of God. The disciples heard of the vision given by angels that Jesus “was alive” (verse 23). Now they hear that Scriptures spoke about this as entering into the glory of God. His is now the life of glory, in the Presence of God.

One need not speculate how they felt about this “lesson” from Scripture, this “rechewing” of Jesus' message of old, this meditatio on the road to Emmaus. We hear from their own mouths what they say about their unusual Bible study: when Jesus, at the end of this episode, had left them, they asked each other: “Were not our hearts burning within us when he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” (verse 32). Listening to Jesus on the road, set a fire ablaze in their hearts. Listening to the Word of God, they were touched by it in their innermost being (within us!), they now testify among themselves. The Words of Scripture had been “opened” up, their somberness and despair are being addressed. The Word of God was busy transforming them, was planting a deep desire in them.

And to desire is to pray. Their hearts burnt in prayer. This prayer is all about oratio as a key element in spirituality and in our spiritual reading of God’s word. Where one meditates on Scripture and where Scripture enters one’s innermost being, the heart breaks open and out in prayer.

So many times before they heard the message from Jesus. But here, on the way to Emmaus, it sank into their hearts in a unique manner, stirring them so deeply that they had to be with Jesus at all costs. So their prayerful invitation to Jesus to stay with them, reflects the prayerful response to the words of Jesus. And how intense is the language of their prayer: “They urged him strongly, ‘Stay with us...’” (verse 29). Slowly, gradually, they move from despair to prayer, from somberness to worship.

And so strongly Jesus had moved to the centre of their existence whilst he was talking to them in their Bible lesson, He, when they served the meal in their house in the little village in Emmaus, took over the role of host. He, in reality the guest, was the One who served and broke the bread.

In this story We recognise the words of Peter: Lord not only my feet, but my whole body. The version here is: “Lord, give us more than a lesson in Scripture. Do not let us alone in this night of ours. Stay with us.... Be our host in our own home.” Their rechewing, the rumination has empowered them and began a process which could no longer be stopped. It is unleashing a life creating power in them, reversing their somberness and giving them new hope.

These two disciples faced an existential crisis. Their world had fallen apart. They were overwhelmed by sadness and by despair. In a gesture of grace, they were given the gift of the divine presence – almost unrecognised by them – and yet, so clearly spelled out in the person of Jesus and in the Words of Scripture. In this dark night of their soul, in their darkest moment, a spark ignited and set their hearts alight in prayer. “Give us more.” “Stay with us.” “Do not leave us, even though night is falling over our world of despair.”

The Spirit often teaches us to pray when we are not able to utter the right words. And the Spirit does this in unexpected ways. When we stay close to God, so close that we can hear God speak to us even though we think God is absent, there is only an empty grave left without someone in sight, the Spirit will touch us in our innermost being and we shall pray without even knowing that we are praying....

Upset and desperate before God’s word. On God’s presence among us in times of darkness.

Luke places the discussion between them and Jesus in the centre of the story about the Emmaus disciples. They talk with Jesus and he responds to them in a wonderful, but highly ironical dialogue. Think about this situation: two disciples who shared the most intimate moments with Jesus over months and months. And here they are, explaining to the very same Jesus what happened to Him as if He knows nothing of them or of Jesus.

And they are well informed. The discussion of the two disciples focusses mostly on “the things that happened in these days among us.” They even know how fast the news spread. It is the talk of the town. Everyone is thinking about what happened– only a stranger would not know of it (Lk.24:18). Once again the story is highly ironic: Jesus, their master, the living one, is experienced as a stranger. Jesus who taught them so much, is now being taught by them.

And see how much insight they have: They patiently recount events and at the same time explain them so neatly to the stranger. They use theological language. They understand the divine action in the Jesus events. The Nasarene who was God’s prophet, worked among them with extraordinary power until he was crucified by their own leaders. These are the powerful events which took place. They were impressed by them and followed Him as a prophet. And they know all about eschatology. They are informed about the future hope for Israel and even relate how they thought Jesus embodied that hope.

And then they relate, in the second part of the speech, what happened that morning and especially how it affected them. Women found his grave empty and the apostles confirmed it. This, they say, startled and amazed them. If the ministry of Jesus impressed them, his death and the empty grave brought them to the brink of despair.

This is how they “read” their situation with knowledge, but without understanding. And it is not really a spiritual reading at all. God gives them a Word through the Prophet Jesus, but they do not retain much trust in that word. And there is still another reading they discuss with Jesus: an angel told the women that Jesus lived. But they do not read this event with much more understanding. For them the angelic “vision” is also not impressive, for “they did not see Jesus.” How often we have a Word of God to read. Time and again God speaks to us. We “experience the Word.” When Jesus ministers among us, when he works with power. When angels gives us visions. When we see an empty grave. And yet, we “read” these things so badly. Instead of worshipping, we are startled. Jesus, our leader and intimate friend can become in a matter of days a stranger in Jerusalem.

But then there is the contemplative moment: to think that at this late stage they were still able, or still allowed to talk about their sorrow and desperation! Jesus gives them an opportunity to talk, seekingly, yearningly, about their innermost feelings. When it looked as if they reached the end of the road, they were really on the way with God – the highest irony. When they were speaking about the divine absence, they were experiencing the divine Presence. The antiphrasis. In our desperation, God is there. In our sorrow, God is reaching out to us, hearing our cries. Jesus knows. That is why he is with them. Long before they started talking to Him, he set out, followed them into sunset, to be with them when they thought he was no longer there. He knows. After all, only a day or what earlier he called out in the same way: Why did You forsake me? Even in our darkness, in our desperation, in our sorows, in our yearning, God is saying: Jahwe. I am who I am. Immanuel. I shall be with you...

To see Jesus without seeing Him. On the Emmaus disciples (2)

The story of the Emmaus disciples is beautiful in more than one way. Luke as a masterful author knew how to compose his text.

Part of its beauty is to be found in the way Luke balances the story:

The story begins and ends with a description of the two disciples on the road to and from their home village. In verse 13 we find the first remark: they travel on the day of the resurrection (“that same day”) to their village, seven miles “from” Jerusalem, talking all the way with each other. It ends with the similar remark, but now in a reverse order. They return “to” Jerusalem (verses 33 to 35). They leave “from Jerusalem” and return “to Jerusalem,” but now, at the end, they are not talking to each other in despair. They talk or witness to the disciples about their meeting with Jesus. With this beginning and and, neatly balanced, Luke describes to us two disciples who were “on the road” (verse 32) and who had an experience of Jesus “on the way” (verse 35). This is the first, outer “frame” of the episode: we have two travelling disciples. Once again, this fits in well with Luke’s Gospel and with Acts. In the Gospel Jesus travels from Luke 9:51 to Jerusalem “to be taken to heaven” – which finally happens in Luke 24:59. So, Luke’s story of the Emmaus disciples, read in context, is framed by a travel narrative which tells the reader a deeper story, that is, that the two has given up on Jesus. He was going to Jerusalem, as we read in Luke 9:51, for his ascension. They, at the moment this special moment was about to take place after the resurrection, gave up on it. Read from the perspective of Acts in which the disciples leave Jerusalem for the ends of the earth with the message of the resurrected Jesus, they almost missed out on the empowerment of the disciples to become world missionaries (Ac.1:6-8). This episode of the two disciples is one of the many travel stories in Luke-Acts, but it is a dramatic story of people who journey in darkness and despair – who give up on God. It is hard not to see this as symbolic of the spiritual journey of the disciples, and, through them, of our own spiritual journey. When we experience shock in recognizing our own faces in the faces of the two disciples, we now know more why we are shocked. We are often travelling away from the One who is our hope. We often give up on God.

The story then contains a further, inner frame: this frame tells about Jesus joining them, but without being recognised by them (verses 15-16). There is the strange observation: “they were kept from recognizing him.” The second part of the frame is found in verses 31-32 and it is in a neat balance with verses 15-16: During the breaking of the bread, their eyes were opened. They recognised Jesus, but he disappears.

There is still a third frame which is found within the second frame: At a certain point in the journey, Jesus asks them about their discussions. He takes the initiative. Then the two of them stop, their faces somber (vese 17). In verse 28-29, Luke inserts a description which balances with this part: this time, though, the two disciples take the initiative. Jesus wants to travel further, but they approach Jesus and asks him to stay with them. They then sit at the table where Jesus breaks bread for them.

In the middle of the story is a direct conversation: the two disciples are now engaged in a discussion with Jesus. It is highly ironic: they talk about the absent Jesus in the presence of Jesus! The reader is amazed: how is it possible that they can speak with Jesus without recognising him? And they keep on talking with Jesus for a long time. From verse 19 to verse 24 they speak about Jesus, and especially about the resurrection. Half or their little speach is about the empty tomb. The speech ends even more ironical: they tell of the visit to the tomb and add, “but him they did not see.” Jesus then responds by explaining the Scriptures – something he did so many times before. The Word of God is explained. With them, Jesus meditates on the meaning of the Word (verses 25-27).

So, looking at this neatly composed story, we have a narrative about two disciples, travelling from the place where the divine events were revealed to them, speaking intensely about the resurrection as they were approached by Jesus – whom they do not recognise. They talk with Jesus about Jesus. They are taught by Jesus about Jesus from Scripture. And yet, they fail to realise what is happening here. They are given one last opportunity as Jesus leaves: He tests them by creating the impression that He will continue with his journey without them. And, they invite him to share communion with them. In the night, in their darkness, Jesus responds to them. He gives them a further symbol: they experience the breaking of the bread. And, finally, their eyes are opened – only to experience Jesus’ absence again. Now, however, they return with the news that they had seen Jesus when he broke the bread for them.

From this composition we can determine the purpose of the Emmaus episode in more depth. Previously the other disciples saw an empty tomb. They were not transformed by that experience. They did not see Jesus (verse 24). Now the story of Jesus is finally concluded: the two disciples have experienced Jesus, unlike the other disciples. The two saw him on their way from Jerusalem, but even this encounter did not transform them immediately. The moment of transformation happened only later when they “recognised” him. They had to move beyond talking, beyond seeing, to recognising.

By meditating on the composition of this episode, we begin to understand something more about our shock at our own unbelief. We do not believe – we are the two disciples, because we see Jesus without “recognising” him. One can live with Jesus for years, hear of such wonderful things as his resurrection from the dead. And yet, one can be without Jesus. Something more must happen to those who believe than merely speaking about Jesus or seeing him.

By reading Scripture so closely, by looking at how carefully Luke composed this story, we are brought to contemplate contemplation. What is it that brings us to that point that we no longer merely “see” Jesus, but “recognise” Him, encounter Him, experience Him as the divine Presence?

Shocked by a reading of Luke’s story of the Emmaus disciples (Luke 24).

The story of the Emmaus disciples in Luke 24:13-33 has intrigued me more and more in recent times. Luke was a gifted author. He wrote the classical parable of the prodigal son – one of the most beautiful stories in world literature on love and the lack of love. And he alone told the story of Jesus encounter with Zacchaeus. His birth narratives are unique, not to mention his fascinating story of the lives and ministries of the first apostles. And these are but a few examples of his mastery.

The story about the two disciples on their way to Emmaus, may be his greatest story. Which is quite a claim to make. But there are several reasons why I say this:

First of all, it is a resurrection story – and as such is closely related with the climax of Luke’s gospel. It is only one of four episodes in the post-resurrection life of Jesus and of these four it is by far the most intense and longest episode.

Secondly, Luke uses this story to bring his book to closure. Wih it he rounds off his book about his spiritual encounter with Christ. It is therefore a story which he must have regarded as extremely important.

It is, thirdly, a simple story. Even a child would be able to follow it. We know that all the famous story tellers excell in the simplicity with which they present their narrations. And yet, it is masterly constructed and composed – as we shall see. One should not be deceived by its simplicity, because it is finely structured and clearly the product of someone who understood the impact of what he was writing.

It is, fourthly, so masterly in its detail. Even by merely reading it, (lectio) one is touched by it and drawn into it in an irresistable manner. For example, as I read through it again today, I was struck by the small, seemingly insignificant detail which contributes to the special atmosphere of the story. By simply “reading” the story, one is drawn into an atmosphere of perplexity: it strikes me how Luke describes the two disciples in verse 17 as involved in “earnest” discussion and over which they are so “sad” ("What is the subject," He asked them, "on which you are talking so earnestly, as you walk?" And they stood still, looking full of sorrow.” WEY) . They respond, believe it or not, with sadness and seriousness to the resurrection (verse 23). Jesus lives – we know, but they are sad. They have heard that Jesus had appeared to some disciples. And now, at the culmination of their journey with Jesus, they still fail to understand : they are “foolish” and “slow of heart.” We read this description with unease and we can feel the perplexity of these two people as they hurry home – leaving Jerusalem, leaving Jesus behind, abandoning everything they stood for previously.

We “read” this story and is struck by it – this is the moment for which everyone was waiting, the denouement of Jesus’ ministry. And Luke, the master narrator, helps us to “feel” across many centuries, almost if no time separates us from the original event, that journey of 12 kilometers from Jerusalem. We are walking here in the company of two people, believers, close followers of Jesus, who are confronted with a mystery – and they, we read, cannot fathom this mystery. It is a mystical journey, the journey of walking in darkness, walking in faith – they are, after all, disciples.

And as we “read” the story, gradually we experience with a shock a special moment of recognition – a mystical moment in which our reading also eliminates the distance between us and the characters. We begin to understand why we are uneasy about the two characters. They are, in fact, quite familiar to us, we think. The two disciples, we discover with dismay, with somber, sad faces, are us: everything we always heard from Jesus, which Jesus himself told us, which we heard from the Biblical authors, from Moses, the prophets (verse 27), everything we read in the learned interpretations of later expositors, from our parents, our spiritual directors, our friends fail to transform us. We remain sad in the face of mystery, perplexed in the presence of the Unknown. We are the two disciples, we, the saints, disciples of Jesus, fail to experience the greatest moment of our lives.

It is, therefore, a mystical experience to “read” the text (do not distinguish too facilely between lectio and contemplatio). We are, then, even more drawn into the story. Because it revives in us some memory of previous parts of Luke’s famous book on Jesus. We turn the pages back, the Spirit wants us to do so, and we “read” Luke 1. A “spiritual” reading is after all never merely “lifting” passages out from Scripture as if they can stand on their own. We share Luke’s spirituality, his whole and complete story about his Jesus experience in its totality and we have to read the story as a whole. And we are taken back, right to the beginning of his book, to where he tells us that he wrote this book carefully, with much thought, “so that we may know the certainty of things we have been taught” (Lk.1:4). Luke wanted to much more than providing us with insight in what “happened.” We are Theophilus, the beloved of God, who fails to experience the Mystery, who are uncertain and with whom Luke engages so that he finds fulfillment in his spiritual journey.

We “read” him and we see how people “experience” the mystery of Jesus. And we see how, in such a human way, they worry, are sad and talk a lot about this mystery. And we forget that Luke told us that their uncertainty, narrated so simply in his story, is the entrance to certainty – to an experience of the Mystery in all its fullness (antiphrasis). So as we “read” the story of the two disciples with their somber faces, we realise with a shock: here we walk. Here we talk. Here we are sad. Most of all, shockingly, here we are uncertain before the Mystery of the divine Presence.

And all the time, it is because we are before a mystery before whom (!) we are outsiders.

So we are drawn deeper into the story. What now? What do we do with our shock? Now we are taken further to reconsider our own spiritual journey - an experience which coalesces with that of the two on their way to Emmaus. We are Ratlos before the Mystery. We need to meditate about this episode Luke writes, to pray about it and to contemplate it so that we could experience the certainty and the transformation this book is all about. Hopefully we can do that in the next few blogs.

To “read,” to understand, is just the beginning. The journey is about much, much more.