Weekly Meditations

When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. For God said, “If they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt.”  So God led the people around by the desert road.

Ex. 13:17-18

Desert experiences are an inevitable part of our spiritual pilgrimage.  As disorienting as they are, maturity eventually teaches us to not only anticipate these times of lostness, but to even welcome them as seasons of grace where God, in a unique way, fashions and strengthens our faith.

The desert is a place of God-breathed confusion, a time of disorientation out of which new truths find their footing.  In the desert we lose our bearings.  Without the securities that used to mark our path we become more dependant on God as we seek redirection in our lives.

More often than not, the desert is something thrust upon us rather than something we choose for ourselves. Whether we are prepared for it or not, we suddenly face new variables in our lives, ones that are untried and often unspecific.   Forced to let go of familiar shores, faith becomes our only guide as we advance towards the mystery that lies ahead of us.

One of the more disconcerting features of the desert is that it often closes the door on the past.  Not long after they had set out on their journey, the Israelites pined for the days when they at least knew what defined their lives.  But the Lord made certain they had no choice but to move forward. We too must face the fact that we cannot go back to where we once were.   To the degree that we fail to come to terms with this we will not be able to fully respond to God’s presence in what lies ahead.

Like Abraham in the desert, we must, at times, leave our homeland in order to go to “to the land I will show you.”  And to the degree that we lack peace in trusting God, we will naturally hesitate and try to turn back.  The desert however removes from us the option of return.  It forces us to accept that we don’t know where we are going, or how long it will take to get there, and that we will have to place our faith solely in the fact that God does.

Remember how the Lord your God has led you in the desert for these forty years, taking away your pride and testing you, because he wanted to know
what was in your heart.
Deut. 8:2

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.
Rom 12:15

In his book, The Empathic Civilization, Jeremy Rifkin speaks of mirror neurons recently discovered in the brain that are the basis for human empathy.  Empathy is the capacity we have to feel what others are feeling as though we were experiencing it ourselves. And for Rifkin, the potential for cultivating this capacity is what gives him hope for humanity.

Empathy is the basis for compassion, from which justice and mercy arise.  It gives us solidarity with the plight and the frailties of others.  We cry when we see someone else crying.  Or we empathize with the person who has lost their home, or the child whose feelings are hurt.  It also gives us solidarity with the plight of non-humans.  We feel for the baby seals in Labrador.  Even clear-cut logging can appeal to our sense of empathy for a denuded landscape.

But empathy, according to Rifkin, is not hard-wired.  It can be cultivated or atrophied.  As Jesus warns, our love has the potential to grow cold.  Our hearts can become calloused and lose sensitivity to the needs around us.  With our affections disordered, we no longer feel the way we should for the concerns of others.  But empathy is also something we can cultivate.

For Rifkin, to empathize is to be more fully human.  He envisions the extension of empathy to the whole human race as well as to fellow creatures, including the biosphere.  It is not difficult to imagine such an increase in global empathy.  When, for instance, the earthquakes hit Haiti, within an hour we had You-Tube videos available globally.  Within a few hours of the event the whole world was geared up in empathic response.

Another person for whom empathy provides hope for human potential is the Carmelite scholar Edith Stein who sees it as God’s invitation for us to become more fully human.   Stein recognizes empathy as the very basis for community when she writes,

Empathy comes to life when the “I” of the self and the “you” of the other emerge as a “we” at a higher level. Empathic individuals are thus able to engage a larger world than their own.

All our relationships, to some degree, are the result of empathy.  It’s what allows us to “get into” the other person, to understand and to share experiences with someone else.  For Stein, this “crossing over” to the other person is what takes place in any meaningful communication where we enjoy a moment of shared experience.

Another attribute of our mirror neurons is that they enable us to also experience what the other person feels about us.  Empathy helps us form a more objective opinion of who we are. As Stein puts it,

I get the image the other has of me, a reflection of what I present of myself to them. Such an experience of reflexive sympathy enables me to obtain a better understanding of myself. This new self-knowledge offers a corrective to the illusions I have about myself, allowing me to gain a glimpse of who I appear to be through the eyes of another.

Self-understanding then is made more accurate by what we learn about ourselves from those around us. By becoming aware of the evaluation of others, including our sense of how God feels, we are brought to question our evaluation of ourselves, and led to a more precise and mature self-knowledge.

Whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit.

1Cor. 6:17

Prayer calls us from the periphery of our lives to the center of who we are; from what is superficial in us to the most profound aspects of our being; and from the illusion of autonomy to union with God as our first reality.  It is the crucible where we work out our salvation, becoming more and more conformed to the unity of Christ with His Father.

Such lofty thoughts are easier to grasp with the help of good imagery, and St. John of the Cross has provided us with a beautiful metaphor of this evolution towards unity in the image of a burning log.   In the same way that fire dries out a wooden log so that it can more deeply receive the flame, so too are we being carefully prepared for increasing union with God through the purification of our hearts.

John of the Cross likens the early stages of our spiritual life to a damp log that is thrown onto the fire.  Before the fire can claim the wood for itself it must first dry out the log.  He writes,

The fire, at first, acts on the wood by driving out all its moisture.  Very slowly, it expels from the wood everything that is inconsistent with the nature of fire.  It then starts to burn on the outside until at last it transforms the wood into fire.

The whole of our spiritual life can be seen as a preparation for the soul to receive more deeply the love of God.  And, in the same way that a dry log catches fire more easily than a wet one, so the soul responds more immediately to the impulse of God the more prepared it is by the Holy Spirit.  As St. John of the Cross writes,

In the prepared soul, the love of God enters immediately, for at each touch the spark catches fire in the dry tinder.  It seems to such persons that every time this flame shoots up, it raises them up to the activity of God in God.

John of the Cross describes the experience of unity as that of an inflamed heart caught up in the fire of God’s love.  Such congruence can only take place in a soul that has been purged from all that, in John’s words, is “irrelevant and immature.”  It is the excessive humidity in a log that prevents the wood from catching fire as readily as it should.  Similarly, the excesses of self prevent us from recognizing and responding to the movement of God within us.

This process of drying is something that, at first, we resist.  But we soon recognize its benefits in producing in us a greater conformity to God.  We become more united to Gods’ action within us.  As John of the Cross writes, the effect of this unity is that “it stirs the heart so deeply as to make it dissolve in love.”  The word “dissolve” means to loosen and set free.  It also means to combine, as in a solution.  Such is the experience of those whose hearts melt, or dissolve, in the unity of God’s presence.

And lastly, as the log becomes one with the fire, it takes on not only the properties of fire but also its ministry.  As John of the Cross explains,

In this way the wood loses all its own properties, and acquires all the properties belonging to the fire.  Once it is dry, it dries other things.  It acquires the heat of the fire and then produces heat itself.  It takes on the bright flames from the fire and then reflects that light itself.  This is all performed by the properties of the fire now that the log has been conformed to these.

Since the log no longer resists the flame, it now receives the fire deep within.  And, as the fire transforms the wood into itself, it makes it more directly a part of its ministry.

Make every effort to add to your faith, . . . for if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

2 Peter 1:5-8

I had lunch this week with Ray Simpson who is a pastor and founding member of the celtic Community of Aidan and Hilda at the ancient monastery in Lindisfarne, England (see http://www.aidanandhilda.org).  It is a dispersed community with members living in many places around Britain and the world who are joined in fellowship by shared values and practices of the spiritual life.

One of the things Ray spoke to us about was the “Way of Life” that members adopt as a sign of their pilgrimage together.  They pledge, among other things, to a commitment to justice, to regular retreats, to lifelong learning and to a rhythm of prayer in their day.  They also commit to meeting periodically with a soul friend—what the celtic tradition calls an anam cara—as a way of maintaining their relationship to these pledges.

Since we at Imago Dei are also a dispersed community I thought that both the idea of choosing a “way of life” as well as that of finding a soul friend with whom to share the hopes we have for our spiritual life would be of benefit to us.  With this in mind I am reprinting a section from my book, Fan the Flame, on “Cultitvating the Spiritual Life.”

Consider this list of recommendations below for your own life.  Consider as well someone with whom you might partner as soul friends.  Share honestly with each other the “ways of life” that you already enjoy as part of your spiritual practice.  Then take opportunity to consider other practices that you feel God inviting you to grow in.  Feel free as well to add other expressions of the spiritual life not listed here.

Recommendations for cultivating the Spiritual Life

These rules, or “ways of life,” are divided into two sections: general (ongoing) and particular (daily).  The phrase, “as you can,” which precedes each rule suggests that you should freely accept the limitations of your life at this time.

General Rules of Life

As you can, meet regularly with a small group of people who know and share your deepest desires for relationship with God. Enjoy prayer together, communion, meditations on Scripture, and worship. Share your experiences of the journey of faith as you commit to encourage each other in your spiritual longings.

As you can, live a simple and uncluttered life. Have time for hospitality with everyone you meet in your day, especially God. Invite others into your life, your home, your journey.

As you can, meet regularly with a spiritual director or a friend who can help you remain objective about your spiritual life. Be cautious about overly assessing your sense of spiritual progress, or setbacks, on your own.

As you can, find a regular outlet through which to offer your time, money or labour for the sake of others. Volunteer to serve with a mission or some other help group. Visit the sick, care for the poor, remember the elderly and befriend those around you who are needy in any way.

As you can, continually equip yourself for the sake of others. Study, learn new skills or cultivate the gifts you have so that others may be blessed by them. Endeavour to walk each day as close to God as possible so that the integrity of your spiritual life will encourage this in others as well.

As you can, plan dedicated times for spiritual retreat throughout the year—a day, a weekend, or a week away in silence with God. If you are married, help your spouse get away for times of renewal and recovery of spiritual focus.

Particular Rules of Life

As you can, start each morning thanking God for all that will happen in the day ahead. Anticipate goodness and the Lord’s love for you in all that will take place. Seek the Lord’s purpose in everything that happens as God works in and through you in your day.

As you can, start each day with 20-30 minutes of silent prayer, remembering the ground of who you are, and of who God is in your life. Do this as a way of preparing the disposition of your heart before you apply yourself to your day. The quality of prayer that you bring to your day will determine your effectiveness within it—how you respond, how you interpret, and how you contribute to the events of your day.

As you can, recall throughout the day one of the seven petitions of the Lord’s Prayer.  Let the unique character of each of these prayers impress itself deeply on the character of your day. (see  http://imagodeicommunity.ca/category/the-lords-prayer .)

As you can, practice Lectio Divina each day—a time of slow spiritual reading and study that has as its purpose the conversion of the heart more than the accumulation of knowledge. Read a short passage of Scripture, or from a journal of spiritual wisdom you have gleaned from others (if you don’t have such a journal, begin one). Let this wisdom enter deeply as the foundation of your life.

As you can, take 5 minutes between the prolonged activities of your day in order to recollect your soul before God. Let times of rest be among the many activities of your day.

As you can, in the evening, spend another 20-30 minutes in silence before God. Review the events of your day, especially noting times of spiritual enthusiasm or of spiritual difficulty.  From what God reveals to you in these times, try to adjust your life accordingly. (see http://imagodeicommunity.ca/category/awareness-examen ).

As you can, end each day in gratitude for all that has happened—for what has been given to you, and for what God has given to the world through your life, your thoughts, your prayers. Be grateful for the simple fact of life and for the invitation you have each day to play a constructive part in the incredible story of Christ’s presence unfolding in this world.

All night long on my bed I looked for the one my heart loves; I looked for him but did not find him.    Song of Solomon 3:1

In his book, Love’s Endeavour, Love’s Expense, William Vanstone explores the virtues of God’s love by first outlining the characteristics of false love.  He lists three marks which identify love as false and then contrasts these with the perfect love of Christ.

The first sign that love is false is the mark of limitation.  Authentic love implies a totality of giving.  Anything less than a complete offering falls short of the love demonstrated by Christ.  As Vanstone writes,

The falsity of love is exposed wherever any limit is set by the will of the person who professes to love.  However much is given it is known that something is being withheld.

The second mark denoting love as inauthentic is any form of detachment by which the one who loves remains unaffected by the person they love.  True love touches the person who loves.  It creates a vulnerability in them that wasn’t there before.   As Vanstone writes,

Love is vulnerable in and through the beloved in the sense that, in the beloved, its completion or frustration, its triumph or tragedy are at stake. The one who loves surrenders into other hands the outcome of what his or her love aspires to.

Signs of such vulnerability are most important to the person who is being loved.   The common question, ‘Do I really matter?’ is the question of whether I have power to affect the person who professes to love me.

The third mark that identifies love as false is that of control or manipulation of the other person.  In love that is freely given there can be no guarantees with regards to how, or if, the other will respond.  Authentic love risks the possibility that the love offered may fail to bridge the gap.   Vanstone anticipates this failure when he writes,

Love may be frustrated.  Its most earnest aspiration may come to nothing.  Or the greatness of what is offered in love may be wholly disproportionate to the smallness of what, if anything, is received.  Herein lies the poignancy of love, and its potential tragedy.

When it comes to love, our best intentions offer no guarantee of success.  Much may be expended and little achieved.   But love must remain precarious if it is to be genuine.  And the precariousness of love s most experienced in the passivity of ‘waiting.’  This necessity of waiting also highlights the precariousness of God’s love—the lack of final control over the object of His love.  It is left to us to determine whether God’s initiative of love results in triumph or tragedy.

From these three marks by which the falsity of love is exposed we can better appreciate the authenticity of God’s love. In the kenosis, or self-emptying of Christ, nothing is held back, nothing unexpended (Phil. 2:7).  In this we recognize God’s love as unlimited.  God’s love is also vulnerable.  The Lord risks rejection at the hands of His own creatures and is pained by our refusal to accept love.  And lastly, God’s love is precarious.  By the humble condescension of the Lord, we have power to determine whether His love succeeds or fails in its communication, or its intended effect.

I thought you would call me ‘Father’
Jer. 3:19