Thomas Merton on Contemplation: Two Observations

Each week The Merton Institute sends out one or more reflections taken from Thomas Merton's writings. Here is the week's reflection:

True contemplation is the work of a love that transcends all satisfaction and all experience to rest in the night of pure and naked faith. This faith brings us so close to God that it may be said to touch and grasp Him as He is, though in darkness. And the effect of such a contact is often a deep peace that overflows into the lower faculties of the soul and thus constitutes an "experience." Yet that experience or feeling of peace always remains an accident of contemplation, so that the absence of this "sense" does not mean that our contact with God has ceased. Thomas Merton. (New Seeds of Contemplation. New York: New Directions Press, 1961, 211)

You will never be able to have perfect interior peace and recollection unless you are detached from even the desire of peace and recollection. You will never be able to pray perfectly until you are detached from the pleasures of prayer. (New Seeds of Contemplation, 208)

From my chapbook of thoughtful sayings

Benedict Groeschel says, "A saint is just a sinner who is more repentant than most of us."

Getting ready for next Sunday, January 4, 2009

Each Monday morning I receive a weekly essay on the Biblical lectionary by Daniel B. Clendenin. Here's the beginning of this week's essay:

Last month I called Palo Alto's Friends of the Library to help me purge my bookshelves. They hauled away thirty-two cartons — 1,002 books, if I counted correctly. What was interesting was not the books that I gave away, but the ones I kept. When I looked at the few books that I kept, I noticed that a large percentage of them came from the desert monastics of the fourth century. Read more . . . .

Learning to face Facebook

For the past half-year people have been inviting me to Facebook, and in the past few days I've been exploring the phenomenon. For what it's worth, I'm there now, staring at I-don't-know-what and gazing fixedly at the "wall." It's an interesting village! I've found a namber of groups focused variously on Centering Prayer, the Divine Office, The Cloud of Unknowing, and the witness of Tom Merton, among other interesting areas of interest. If you are ever somewhere in the area, whistle "hello!" and show me the way around!
!

Prayer Shawls and Tallits

Danielle is knitting a prayer shawl for a friend who has been diagnosed with a recurrence of breast cancer. As Danielle knits, she is both praying over the shawl for her friend’s restoration to health and asking others to join her so that eventually the shawl is saturated with prayers. When Danielle finishes her knitting, she will give the prayer-soaked shawl to her friend as a gift heavy with hopes and intercessions for healing.

When Danielle asked if I’d like to participate in the praying and preparation of the shawl, my musings about prayer shawls led me to remember that Jesus might well have used and recommended prayer shawls as an aid to “secret prayer” in Matthew 6.6:

But when you pray, go to your private room and, when you have shut your door, pray to you Father who is in that secret place, and your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you.

Here Jesus urges that we enter a private room (other translations call it a “closet,” “a quiet, secluded place,” “chamber,”) to circumvent any ego-driven tendency to ostentatious praying. Some commentaries suggest that Jesus’ word for closet--in the Greek New Testament (τὸ ταμεῖόν, to tameion) is best understood as a reference to the Jewish prayer-shawl, the tallit, traditionally used by observant Jews during prayer. The wearing of the "tallit" (Hebrew: טַלִּית‎, pronounced tal-eet), also called the "tallis" or "prayer shawl," was commanded by God in Num.15:37-40:

God spoke to Moses: "Speak to the People of Israel. Tell them that from now on they are to make tassels on the corners of their garments and to mark each corner tassel with a blue thread. When you look at these tassels you'll remember and keep all the commandments of God, and not get distracted by everything you feel or see that seduces you into infidelities. The tassels will signal remembrance and observance of all my commandments, to live a holy life to God. I am your God who rescued you from the land of Egypt to be your personal God. Yes, I am God, your God."

Lest we forget that Jesus was thoroughly Jewish and that he observed that commandment, it may be helpful to picture Jesus as always wearing his tallit or prayer shawl. Indeed, Jim Gerrish is quite right to remind us that we can be assured that he wore one. Marc Chagall's "The Praying Jew" might well give you the image of Jesus that fits what we know about the way Jesus looked when wearing his prayer shawl.

Had he not done so, he would have broken the very law that he came to uphold. The law concerning the wearing of such garments is found in Numbers 15:37-49. These garments were certainly still worn in Jesus time, because along with the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, a tallit was found almost intact. It can be seen on display today at the Shrine of the Book in Jerusalem.

On one occasion a sick woman came and touched what must have been the fringes (tzitzit) of this garment, and in so doing, she was healed (Mk. 6:53-56). Traditionally the four corners of the tallit are called "the four wings." Perhaps she had in mind that phrase in Malachi 4:2, which speaks of the Messiah as one with "healing in its wings."

The clear implication is that at Matthew 6.6. Jesus is recommending the use of one’s tallit as a closet, inner room, or secret place.

This interpretation is born out when we remember that TALITH contains two Hebrew words; TAL meaning tent and ITH meaning little. Thus, you have LITTLE TENT. Each man had his own little tent. Six million Jews could not fit into the tent of meeting that was set up in the Old Testament. Therefore, what was given to them was their own private sanctuary where they could meet with God. Each man had one! His Prayer Shawl or Talith. They would pull it up over their head, forming a tent, where they would begin to chant and sing their Hebrew songs, and call upon God. It was intimate, private, and set apart from anyone else -- enabling them to totally focus upon God. This was their prayer closet! (The Hope of Israel)

As Danielle knits her prayer shawl for her friend, she is encouraging the revival of an ancient prayer tradition—the use of a tallit; and moreover, remembering Jesus’ encouragement of its use for “secret prayer,” Danielle might also be suggesting a prayer shawl is perhaps an apt aid to Centering Prayer, prayer spoken only to God in secret, deeply interior prayer, prayer that forsakes not only public ostentation but also minimizes as much as possible the interruption of private thoughts, images, imaginative speculations, interior story-telling, and pious perceptions, no matter how "holy" they may be.

Surely we enter our closets by simply closing our eyes. Many, however, also find it helpful to pray in a darkened room or at night. If those practices are helpful, surely the use of a prayer shawl might also be beneficial in that it may help us—as Jesus recommends—to physically close the door to distractions and nearby disturbances.

Personally I don’t own or use a prayer shawl, but in Centering Prayer I sometimes pull the hood of my so-called sweat-shirt up so as to bury my head inside something much like a tallit. Now, however, that Danielle has gotten me interested, I may start actually thinking about using one. Methodist women, like Danielle, seem to be leading the renewal of tallits as gifts, prayer closets, and aids to healing. If you’re interested, you might like to visit one or more of the following:

• Prayer Shawls Become Gifts of Love
• Methodist women minister through prayer shawls
• Prayer Shawl Ministry
• Prayer Shawls

May God bless Danielle's knitting and prayers for her friend.

Images: Marc Chagall (Russian-born French painter, 1887-1985), "The Praying Jew" (1923, copy of 1914 work), oil on canvas, 116.8 x 89.4 cm, Art Institute of Chicago; The blessing of shawls made by Methodist women

Monastic Skete

Found a good blog this morning: Dan Phillip's Monastic Skete (a skete is a settlement of monks or ascetics). Dan is wise Baptist pastor who likes Tom Merton. You need to meet him, and so I'm adding Monastic Skete to our list of places to visit so you can tromp on over now and then when you come visiting here. To give you a preview as to what sorts of things Dan is up to, here's a poem that Dan wrote and posted on December 16:

FIRST CORINTHIANS 13 (paraphrased)

CHRISTMAS VERSION

If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows,
Strands of twinkling lights and shiny balls,
But do not show love to my family,
I'm just another decorator.
If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies,
Preparing gourmet meals and arranging a beautifully adorned table at
mealtime,
But do not show love to my family,
I'm just another cook.
If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home
And give all that I have to charity,
But do not show love to my family,
It profits me nothing.
If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and
crocheted snowflakes,
Attend a myriad of holiday parties and sing in the choir's cantata,
But do not focus on Christ,
I have missed the point.
Love stops the cooking to hug the child.
Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband.
Love is kind, though harried and tired.
Love doesn't envy another's home
that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens.
Love doesn't yell at the kids to get out of the way,
but is thankful they are there to be in the way.
Love doesn't give only to those who are able to give in return,
but rejoices in giving to those who can't.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures
all things.
Love never fails.
Video games will break, pearl necklaces will be lost, golf clubs will
rust....
But giving the gift of love will endure.
You can give without loving, but you cannot love without giving.

BRO. DAN AND THANKS ROGER WILLIAMS

December 26-31: The Witness Days

On the six days between Christmas Day and its Octave on 1 January, we remember five persons who have in various ways, by martyrdom or otherwise, born witness to the truth of the Christian faith.(Note that the word martyros in pre-Christian Greek simply means "witness," and that it is not always clear whether early Christian uses of it (as in Revelation 2:13) ought to be translated broadly, as "witness", or in the narrow technical sense as "martyr", that is, someone who has explicitly chosen to die rather than to deny Christ as Lord.)

On December 26th, we remember St. Stephen, first member of the early Christian church to be put to death for his faith -- see Acts 6,7. He was "a martyr in will and deed."

On December 27th, we remember St. John the Evangelist, one of the Twelve Apostles. It is commonly believed that, although he was imprisoned and beaten for his adherence to Christ, he lived to old age and died a natural death. He was "a martyr in will but not in deed," meaning that he was willing to lay down his life for his Lord, but was not called on to do so -- See M 20:20-28 = P 10:35-45.

On December 28, we remember the Holy Innocents, the children of Bethlehem who were slaughtered by command of King Herod lest one of them prove a danger to his throne -- see M 2:16-18. They were "martyrs in deed, though not in will," and their deaths are a disquieting reminder that suffering on behalf of a good cause is not always restricted to those who have a choice in the matter.

The witnesses commemorated on these first three days are all from New Testament times. On the two days following, we commemorate witnesses from a later period in Christian history. Taking them in reverse order of days --

On December 31 we commemorate Sylvester, bishop of Rome from 313 to 335 -- that is, roughly from the Edict of Toleration issued by the Emperor Constantine to the death of the said Emperor, and thus the first bishop of Rome in the days after Christianity ceased to be an illegal and persecuted religion. With his term of office, we enter an era when to become a Christian is no longer to place oneself in automatic danger of being put to death by the government. However...

On December 29, we remember Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, slain in his own cathedral in 1170, for his defiance of King Henry II. The death of Thomas reminds us that a Christian, even when safe from pagans, can be in danger from his fellow-Christians.Two recent additions to the Calendar are John Wylcif (31 Dec), a pioneer of Bible translation; and Josephine Butler (30 Dec), who came to the assistance and defense of women whom society had, in effect, declared outside its protection. Neither was (in the technical sense) a martyr. Both are witnesses.

In recent years, it has become the practice of some groups of Christians to give the First Sunday after Christmas precedence over the observance of these days, and so to postpone by one day those commemorations falling on or after that Sunday.

Again, presumably to avoid commemorations close to Christmas (just as we avoid them within seven days of Easter Day), some Christian groups have adopted alternate dates for some of these celebrations.

Thomas the Apostle: 3 July
Stephen the First Martyr: 3 August
John the Evangelist: 6 May
The Holy Innocents: 11 January (after the Magi on 6 January)
Thomas a Becket: 7 July

On January 1st, we celebrate the Circumcision of Christ. Since we are more squeamish than our ancestors, modern calendars often list it as the feast of the Holy Name of Jesus, but the other emphasis is the older. Every Jewish boy was circumcised (and formally named) on the eighth day of his life, and so, one week after Christmas, we celebrate the occasion when Our Lord first shed His blood for us. It is a fit close for a week of martyrs, and reminds us that to suffer for Christ is to suffer with Him.

Text source: The Witness Days

Source of images: St. Tom's Players

Christmastide

As we all know, the Feast of Christmas is not simply a one-day affair; it's a nearly two-week, twelve-day celebration of the Incarnation. It's really a "tide," "tidings" of days; and so remembering that the "tidings" (perhaps from Old Norse tīdhendi, events as "news events") of Christmas cannot be told in a mere day, the Church has extended its celebration for a whole row or days, making sure that we have plenty of time to receive the Lord Jesus in many ways, throughout many days. That's why we call the coming days Christmastide.

That, of course, is not to diminish the importance of Christmas Day, the Feast of the Nativity. As Christians, we surround that day with lights and candle-burning, with carols and cantatas, with church drama and creches, with parishes providing special services, and with exceptionally beautiful provisions for Morning and Evening Prayer. Take, for example, our local Episcopal parish in Covington, Georgia. This morning there is Eucharist at 11:00; then later at 5:00 p.m. and at 10:00 p.m., two more Eucharists! The Church of the Good Shepherd wants to make sure--no matter the work schedule (whether it's baking home-made cookies, driving a tractor-trailer, preparing for family gatherings, or working as a server in a restaurant)--that everyone has an opportunity to kneel at the manger and receive the Lord Christ. And at Faith Lutheran Church in Lexington, KY, Andy's home parish, there will Christmas Even Eucharists at 4 and 11 p.m. (with music 20 minutes before the services begin). And on Christmas Day, another Eucharist at 10 a.m. Everywhere we Christians all over the world are praising God for the gift of Jesus Christ.

As we worship our way through Christmastide, I'll be sharing my thoughts with you. For now, however, if you're attending an especially beautiful celebration of the birth of Christ, leave us a comment and tell us what your parish did in response to the love of God in Mary's Son.

Some Photographs

Dr. Joe King, who is going to Haiti with a group of us in January, has introduced me to a place where I can share some of my photographs with you. If you'd like to see them, go to http://harnacka.zenfolio.com/. I'll put up a more-or-less permanent link to my photographic work on this and the other blogs I try to maintain.

Stethoscope

You might like to watch (and listen) to this one.

Some thoughts on the Gospel lesson for the Fourth Sunday in Advent

The appointed Gospel reading for the Fourth Sunday in Advent is Luke 1.47-55; in many churches during worship we'll listen as the pastor or lector reads the Song of Mary, what many know as The Magnificat--what many sing or say every afternoon and/or night during Evening Prayer. Although you may know it well, look at it again:

And Mary said,

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed;
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
He has mercy on those who fear him in every generation.
He has shown the strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel,
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our father,
to Abraham and his children forever.

If, however, we read several verses before coming to the Song of Mary, we have this context for her Song :

In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

[The Song comes here!]

And Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home.

Thomas Keating in The Mystery of Christ: The Liturgy as Spiritual Experience shares his understanding of these contextualizing verses this way:

What is Mary's first response to the gift of divine motherhood? She goes to see her cousin Elizabeth who happens to be having a baby and who needs help with whatever you do when you are getting ready for a baby: making diapers, preparing
the bassinet, knitting little socks and bonnets. That is what she figured God wanted her to do. It never occurred to her to tell anyone about her incredible privilege. She simply did what she ordinarily did: she went to serve somebody in need. That is what the divine action is always suggesting: help someone at hand in some small but practical way. As you learn to love more, you can help more.

Mary did not go to counsel Elizabeth; she did not go to evangelize Elizabeth; she went to prepare the diapers. That is true religion: to manifest God in an appropriate way in the present moment. The angel had said that Elizabeth was soon to have a baby. Mary said, "Is that so? She must need help; I'll go at once." She went "in haste," manifesting her eagerness to be of service without any thought about her own condition, including, I presume, what Joseph or her mother were thinking about her unexpected pregnancy.

As the title of his book suggests, Keating is responding to what he hears during Advent when he attends the Church's communal eucharistic worship. In his reflections, Keating reminds us that all of us listen and pray within many environments: those times we set apart for the Daily Prayers of the Church, Sunday morning worship, private praying, support-group meetings, short bursts of thoughts to God during any time of the day, and personal Centering Prayer. Using all these (and more) resources of the Church, the Holy Spirit works the will of the Father upon and in us all.

The Scripture in several places tells us that Mary spent a good deal of her time pondering, musing, and wondering about the activity of God in her life. She was often, I think we can safely say, practicing "centering prayer" although two thousand years ago she didn't describe her "listening in stillness" that way. For Mary is was simply "quiet time" with God. As Keating suggests, this quiet time extended itself into all avenues of her life. Such Mary-like "resting in God" will also prompt us to be more responsive to everyone, urge us to help someone whenever the occasion arises, and recommend to us creative ways to show our love for everyone, including family members, in-laws, and neighbors.

As you worship, read, intercede, praise God, give thanks to the Father, come to the Lord Jesus in Holy Communion, and listen to his voice in centering prayer, you too will find yourself "in haste" to make a visit, speak to a friend, spouse (or disgruntled neighbor) in love, write a letter to someone who'd like to hear from you, visit someone in the county jail, and say hello to your server at Bob Evans with an appreciative smile. You'll let the Blessed Virgin Mary be an example on how to re-enter ordinary living after prayer.

Christmastide Reading

During our Monday evening conversation, we said that we'd like to read Thomas Keating's Open Mind, Open Heart: The Contemplative Dimension of the Gospel in preparation for our late January meeting. Here's what http://www.amazon.com/ provides as information for ordering:

Open Mind Open Heart: The Contemplative Dimension of the Gospel by Thomas Keating (Paperback - Dec 30, 2006), Buy new: $10.85, 37 Used & new from $9.38.

I have often found that after reading this book, my entrance into centering prayer naturally follows.

About our February Benedictine Retreat

Sr. Judy, Prioress at The Monastery on Mount Tabor, in Martin, Kentucky, called this morning to say we have reservations for eight-to-ten of us for February, 2009: February 27 (Friday evening) through March 1 (Sunday afternoon). When our Daily Office and Centering Prayer Support Group meets again in late January, we'll fill each other who are committed to going on the details of minimal cost, what to take, transportation needs, and so on.

One little surprise: Sr. Judy tells me that I will be able to make my promises and be received as an oblate with the community while we're there.

A Delightful Surprise in the Daily Office Today

This morning when June and I were preparing for Morning Prayer, we discovered in our prayerbook that the fourth appointed reading for today comes from a sermon by Johannes Tauler (1300-1361). What a surprise, especially so because it relates so nicely to the discussion on Centering Prayer that a few of us had last night in our living room.

I happen to like Tauler a good deal; many of his sayings are worth slipping into one’s chapbook of quotations, worth remembering. Here are three samples:

A good meditation, even when it is interrupted by occasional nodding, is much more beneficial than many outward religious exercises.

As a good wine must be kept in a good cask, so a wholesome body is the proper foundation for a well-appointed inner ground.

In the school of the Spirit man learns wisdom through humility, knowledge by forgetting, how to speak by silence, how to live by dying.

In the fourteenth century, of course, Tauler didn’t know that his contemplative prayer is now often called “Centering Prayer." He simply called what he did prayer, and he frequently preached wonderful sermons about doing contemplative or centering prayer. Here following is the excerpt the editors in my prayerbook appointed for today’s reading. To help you see how it is a commentary on or explanation of what we now call Centering Prayer, within brackets I've provided some editorial comments. As you read the excerpt, it’s also important to know that in this sermon, Tauler refers to a medieval legend which suggests that when the Holy Family fled to Egypt, the idols of the Egyptians crumbled whenever Joseph, Mary, and the infant Jesus passed by.

Should God speak, you must be silent; should He enter, created things [thoughts, perceptions] must give way. When our Lord entered Egypt (Matthew 2.13-15), all idols crashed to the ground; those are our false gods [again, our thoughts, ruminations, abstract thinking, imagining, and so on], everything that hinders the immediate generation [birth] of the divine Word [God] in the soul, however good and holy it may seem [in other words, don’t mistake thinking about God for dwelling in the Presence of God]. Our Lord tells us that he had come to bring a sword to cut off all that clings to man, even mother, sister, and brother. For that with which you keep intimate company [your thoughts and perceptions] without God, that is hostile to you. The multiplicity of images [again, thoughts] conceals the divine Word and prevents its birth in you, although the inner stillness [the “still point” in Centering Prayer] may not be entirely removed. Though it [that is, the inner stillness] may sometimes desert you, it should nevertheless become a fertile ground for the divine birth. Cherish this deep silence within, nourish it frequently [twice a day is recommended], so that it may become a habit, and by becoming a habit, a mighty possession . . . . It is habit which creates skill [in living out the Christian life]. May God help us to prepare a dwelling place for Christ’s noble birth, so that we may attain spiritual motherhood [that is, giving birth of Jesus in our hearts].

Isn’t that wonderful! Can you imagine a pastor or preacher describing prayer like that from a pulpit today? Well, not likely. To be reminded of this kind of praying, we now need to help of those who know our Christian tradition well, folks like Thomas Keating, Basil Pennington, and William Menninger. You can be sure that they recognize Johannes Tauler as a good friend!

Hoping that you are finding practice of Centering Prayer helpful, let’s remember one another in our intercessions and plan to meet again at the end of January, 2009. In the meantime, listen to Keating’s advice: just sit quietly, twice a day if possible.

Image: Fuite in Egypte [The Flight into Egypt]

Monday, Dec. 15. The Psychology of Centering Prayer

Tomorrow evening at 7:00, we'll meet again in our home to listen to Thomas Keating speak on "The Psychological Experience of Centering Prayer," practice Centering Prayer, and close with a brief discussion. All are welcome to come. Here are directions to our home:

1. Go to Exit 87 (the intersection of I-75 and the EKU By-Pass)

2. Go west on Barnes Mill for 2.3 miles to Crutcher Pike.

Crutcher Pike is the first crossroad past The Corner Store.

3. Turn right onto Crutcher Pike.

4. Go .5 miles to Mule Shed Lane.

5. Turn left onto Mule Shed Lane.

6. Go .8 miles to Marengo Drive.

7. Turn left onto Marengo Drive.

8. Go .3 miles to 281 Marengo Drive, the brick house on the crest of the hill after you enter the left-turning curve of Marengo Drive.

We'll have the porch light on for you.

A Hidden Wholeness: The Zen Photography of Thomas Merton

Although I've not been able to confirm things by a phone call, I'm given to believe that there's a exhibition of Thomas Merton's photographs in the Great Hall, Special Collections Library, in the Margaret I. King Building at UK, from November 23, 2008 to January 15, 2009. If so, June and I plan to visit the exhibit sometime early this coming week (before the 19th). If you'd like to travel with, let us know. Maybe we can have lunch and Merton together. The library is open from 8:30 a.m. to 5:00, Monday through Friday.

Photograph by Thomas Merton, "The Only Known Photograph of God"

Advent Conspiracy

Marlene Bertke, one of my Benedictine friends, asked me to visit the video below. Well, I did and then thought I'd like to share it with you. More to come in a day or so!

Thomas Merton Memorial, KET Broadcast Planned

A service in Louisville tomorrow will commemorate the 40th anniversary of the death of Kentucky author-monk Thomas Merton on Dec. 10, 1968. A brief "Prayer for Peace Remembering Merton" is being planned for Wednesday at 9 a.m. at "Merton Square" -- the intersection of 4th and Muhammad Ali. The ceremony includes readings of words by Merton calling for world peace. The intersection was the scene of another Merton anniversary ceremony earlier this year -- 50 years after Merton's visit to downtown Louisville on a routine errand prompted him to reflect that he wasn't isolated in the monastery but connected to everyday people and their problems.

Other ceremonies are being planned around the world. In one, Paul Pearson of Louisville's Thomas Merton Center will be speaking in his native England, with the main address given by Anglican Archbishop Rowan Williams.

Morgan Atkinson's documentary, "Soul Searching: the Journey of Thomas Merton," will air on KET1 on Sunday at 10 p.m. It tells the dramatic tale of Merton's conversion from a dissolute young life to his conversion, his entrance into the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky and his pursuit of greater spiritual knowledge and greater connection to the urgent social crises of his day.

Upcoming Airdates:
KETKY: Sunday, December 14 at 1:00 pm EST
KET1: Sunday, December 14 at 10:00 pm EST
KETHD: Sunday, December 14 at 10:00 pm EST
KET2: Monday, December 15 at 2:00 am EST
KET2: Tuesday, December 16 at 4:00 am EST
KETKY: Thursday, December 18 at 6:00 am EST
KETKY: Friday, December 19 at 7:00 pm EST
KETKY: Saturday, December 20 at midnight EST
KETKY: Saturday, December 20 at 2:00 pm EST
KET2: Sunday, December 28 at 10:00 pm EST

Source of Information

Centering Prayer: Reflections on Our First Gathering

Last evening six of us--Mason, June, Stephen, Danielle, Pat, Harry, and I--met to talk about Centering Prayer and watch Thomas Keating present "The Method of Centering Prayer." From what I surmise, our discussion went well and our initial practice of Centering Prayer proved itself helpful as we are coming to understand something of the apophatic prayer tradition in the life of the Church. Encouraged to practice Centering Prayer during the coming week, we plan to meet again next Monday on December 15, once again in my home at 7:00 p.m. In the days to come, I'll be posting thoughts and comments that others have made about their practice of centering prayer. Please feel free to post any comments you may have concerning your contemplative prayer life.

Musings about our Holy Baptisms

Last night—in the middle of Evening Prayer, of all things!—June and I had a discussion about baptism. My wonderful June is a Southern Baptist, who, in marrying me, managed to get a Lutheran as a husband. June was baptized as a sixteen-year-old young adult (fifty-six years ago), and I was baptized as a five-week-old baby (seventy-one years ago) on St. Andrew’s Day, November 30, 1937. With June I now attend worship at her First Baptist Church in Barnesville, GA, and she attends worship with me at Faith Lutheran Church in Lexington, KY. We also worship at First United Methodist Church in Richmond, KY, and at The Church of the Good Shepherd, Episcopal, in Covington, Ga. Even though June is basically Baptist in her thinking and soul-thoughts and I’m a hard-shell liberal Lutheran in my theological outlook, one might also describe each of us as post- or trans-demoninational. In short, we get around, visiting and worshipping with the Body of Christ here and there. It’s a wonderful life!

But, as you might expect, because of our early years and experience in the Church, we sometimes share differences about our approaches to Christian doctrine and teachings, often and notably about Holy Baptism. We gave expression to our differences last night during Evening Prayer, and although we finished our prayers in good spirits, I felt a lingering dissatisfaction with our conversation and spent a good bit of the night pondering over the meanings and significance of Holy Baptism for both of us as we articulate and live them out life in Christ in our daily lives.

Hence, these musings:

Every day in Morning Prayer June and I pray the so-called Benedictus Dominus Deus (“Blessed Be the Lord”), the song of thanksgiving sung by Zechariah on the occasion of the birth, circumcision, and naming of his son, John the Baptist. Many prayer books—including the one June and I use daily--are sure to include it as one of our Morning Prayer canticles; one of my prayerbooks, The Daily Prayer of the Church, which I use when June is not with me, provides me with a beautiful melody for the canticle that I often sing while out walking in the morning.

The text for Zechariah’s Song and the story surrounding its singing is in Luke 1.68-79. According to Luke, Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth have just been to the temple to have their little boy circumcised and given his name: John. Then, holding his little baby in his arms, Zechariah, “filled with Holy Spirit” sings a psalm-like Song as he looks down on the infant who will become the Forerunner of Jesus. Towards the end of his song, Zechariah chants (I always imagine it in a raspy voice because he’s been speechless a good while) this Song:

You, my child shall be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way, to give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins.

Sometimes, however, when I sing Zechariah’s “Blessed Be,” a painting about John the Baptist comes to my mind’s eye: it’s Matthias Grunewald’s famous painting of crucifixion in the Isenheim Altarpiece wherein John stands on the right side of Christ (as you view the painting) and, holding the Old Testament in his left hand, points to Jesus while our Lord is dying. Next to John’s left foot is a white lamb, reminding viewers that we are seeing the Lamb of God, Jesus, dying sacrificially for us.

In the Gospel for the Second Sunday of Advent, Mark 1.1-18, we are introduced to the work and witness of this same John the Baptist. Mark tells us John is a “voice” who proclaims the coming of the Messiah, who comes over the hill while John is baptizing repenting Jews. Obviously John knows his cousin Jesus quite well; their mothers were kin, they’ve grown up together and attended numerous family reunions. I have no doubt that John and Jesus played together as kids, hung out together as teens, and stayed in touch during their young adult lives. When in his early thirties, John (who decided to live monk-like in the Judean desert) tells his listeners that Jesus, who comes over the hill into view, is a man with tremendous power, power so great that John cannot now imagine himself daring even to untie his cousin’s sandal strings. Obviously John is now astonished at who Jesus has become. He tells the gawking crowd standing around that here is Someone who will baptize them with no one less than the Spirit of the Most High God.

That said, something remarkable happens. As I imagine it, Jesus sits down, takes a good look at John, unties his own sandals, and bare-footed clambers down the rocky bank of the Jordon to wade into the waist-deep river. Without a lot fuss (at least in Mark’s Gospel), John then either immerses Jesus, pours water over his body, or somehow makes sure that Jesus gets really wet; that is, he baptizes and washes his cousin. We don’t know what John says; we know only his actions. Then, with his clothes dripping and head wet, Jesus sees the “heavens torn apart, the Spirit, like a dove, flying down around and on him, and an announcing voice declares, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; my favor rests on you’.” Then, just as quickly as he came forward and got himself baptized, the wet Jesus who is baptized with the Holy Spirit is driven into the desert by that same Spirit. Quite a story! It's been "written" and told again by many Orthodox "writers" of icons; my favorite is The Icon of the Feast of Theophany which depicts the baptism of Jesus with artfully perceptive insight.

Advent reminds us that we are never to forget the two-fold, yet single, message of John and Jesus. First, we are to “change the way we think about life” and our culture (Repent!) and then unite ourselves to Jesus (Trust him!) so that we enter his witness, death, and resurrected life by a baptismal beginning. Sometimes our solidarity with Jesus begins when we are baptized as infants (as I did) or children when God adopts us into his Family, the Church; sometimes our solidarity with Christ takes places when we step into a river or tank full of water (as June did) to announce publicly that we believe in Jesus our Savior and that we want to be immersed into God’s Name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. When we are baptized, either as infants, children, or adults, we enter into Christ’s life as Paul tells us in Romans, Chapter 6:

When we were baptized into Christ Jesus, we were baptized into his death. So by our baptism into his death we were buried with him, so that as Christ was raised from the death by the Father’s glorious power, we too should begin living a new life.

For most of us, Christ in and with baptism as already come into our lives (as infants or as adults) as God's beloved Advent. Now (often over the span of decades and years later) he keeps on coming, every morning, moment-by-moment, day-by-day, until he will come finally, either at our deaths to take us the Father by the power of the Spirit, or at his final Great Descent when he comes in glory to claim all the worlds as his own. Either way, by daily repentance and renewed trust, we are always in solidarity with Christ. Seeing all of life with his eyes, all hearing with his ears, all touching with his hands, all walking with his feet, all singing with his voice, and all thinking with his mind, we are wet behind the ears with His baptism, ready to let the Spirit be our guide.

While I wish that the Holy Scriptues were more explicit about the kind of baptism we ought clearly to affirm and practice, the Holy Spirit has decided to leave the Church divided (and sometimes tragically opinionated) about a preferred mode of baptism. Importantly, however, both infant-baptism and adult-baptism seem to work well with God. C. S. Lewis, for example, was baptized as an infant and became a great witness to the truth of the Gospel and the vitality of Christian living; Billy Graham was baptized as an adult and become an equally great witness to the power of God to work miracles in the lives of men and women. Clearly, the baptisms of both men have proven themselves worthy of God’s blessing and effectiveness. God surely seems to bless both kinds of baptism: infant and adult. For this reason, June respects my infant baptism, and I honor and respect her young adult baptism. Paul says there is “one faith, one baptism, one Lord,” and he’s right. Although there are two kinds of baptism practiced in the Church, there is in the final analysis only one baptism, the baptism that unites us to Christ.

So June and I rejoice in our baptismal unity, and we strive to live out the meaning of our baptisms by walking in newness of life every day. As baptized persons, we want to think with the mind of Christ, to walk with the feet of Jesus, to see with the eyes of the Savior, to hear with the ears of our Lord, and to imagine the world with the vision of God's Beloved Son. In short, we want to live resurrected lives. The challenge is not so much to find out who is right about the how and when of baptism; the challenge is rather how to live united with Christ now that we are in solidarity with Christ. It's quite an adventure!

A wonderfully artful Advent calendar

During Advent Christianity Today is providing a wonderfully artful Advent calendar. Copyright restrictions prevent me from providing you with an image, but (trust me) it's worth a daily visit!

An Encouragement from Thomas Merton

As we begin to introduce ourselves to Centering Prayer, we will often make mention of Thomas Merton. Each week I have the privilege of receiving a short quotation from Merton’s writing, selected and sent by The Merton Institute of Contemplative Living. As they arrive, I’ll post them; here is this week’s reflection:

Puritas cordis [purity of heart] means much more than moral or ascetic perfection. It is the end of a long process of spiritual transformation in which the soul, perfect in charity, detached from all created things, free from the movements of inordinate passion, is able to live absorbed in God, and is penetrated from time to time with vivid intuitions of His action, intuitions which plumb the depths of the divine mysteries, which "grasp" God in a secret and intimate experience not only of Who He is, but of what He is doing in the world. The [person] who is pure in heart not only knows God, the Absolute Being, pure Act, but knows Him as the Father of Lights, the Father of Mercies, Who has so loved the world as to give His only begotten Son for its Redemption. Such a [person] knows Him not merely by faith, not by theological speculation, but by intimate and incommunicable experience.

Thomas Merton. Bread in the Wilderness (New York: New Dimensions, 1953): 20-21.

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Advent: Talk 1

A talk delivered by Brother Bruno Clifton, OP on the first Wednesday of Advent, 6 December 2006 in Blackfriars, Oxford.

Both Marys and Marthas

As we come away from this busy Thanksgiving weekend, perhaps you, like me, found ourselves unusually busy, roasting turkeys, cooking, traveling, welcoming guests, attending family reunions, and (if possible) slipping off to our local parish for worship. Perhaps it became quite difficult to pray both Morning and Evening Prayer as usual. Time for Centering Prayer may have been compromised. Time within your lectio divina may have been shortened. William Menninger in The Loving Search for God: Contemplative Prayer and The Cloud of Unknowing, (New York: Continuum, 1998) gives us insightful words of wisdom as we ponder what we have experienced during the last three days:

My friend, in our loving search, we are neither Martha nor Mary. We are both. There are times when we are called to be loving God in the union of contemplative prayer, and there are times when we have to be busy about many things serving our brethren. Yet we must admit that Jesus, while certainly recognizing the need for both of these aspects, gives a preference to the loving, to Mary. This, he tells Martha, is the better part. There is, of course, a good reason for this and we have already spoken to you about it. The loving is primary and the activity must proceed from the loving. Remember, I told you that activity proceeds from being. Certainly there are times when Mary must work in the kitchen--but not when God calls her to some special time in the loving search, sitting at his feet in contemplative prayer. Martha, too, must do this, if her service is to be truly loving. The place of this loving prayer will be different in the lives of different people and it will even differ in the life of one person from time to time, depending upon where he or she is in the lovingsearch. (23)

Image: Sitting with Mary at Jesus Feet

November 30: The First Sunday in Advent

Tomorrow we begin a new Church Year, with the First Sunday in Advent. The Gospel to be read in many of our churches will be from St. Mark, Chapter 13: 24-37:

But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven. “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to
you I say to all: Keep awake.”

As we listen to our Lord Jesus describe the coming of the Son of Man, the time of his coming, and his admonishment to us that we should be on the alert, I thought about the fig tree growing outside my study window here at the lakehouse. A few days ago I took a good look at it as I was mowing and mulching the leaves fallen over the grass around it. It's branches are bare now, but in a few months, along about mid-April, it will begin to "put forth its leaves," and once again I'll know that summer is coming. But today, in late November, Jesus asks us not only to remember the way our fig trees announces summer's coming, but also to remember that he is coming too. Surprisingly, even Jesus (so He tells us) doesn't know, by way of prediction, the exact time; only the Father knows. It's for this reason that we must all be on the alert.

But what does it mean to be on alert? As Jesus tells it, being on alert is like waiting for a door knock. While it’s hard for me to imagine myself as a slave who’s waiting for his returning master to knock on the door, I do know a bit about waiting for other similar kinds of door-knocks. In 1976, after receiving my Ph. D., I had sent out over 800 resumes and applications to universities and colleges for a new job. I desperately needed employment. Every day I was on the alert to see what the mail might bring; every time the phone rang, I was alert, hoping it might be someone calling to tell me that I had a job. Eventually the right envelop arrived. In 1992 I was very much on the alert as I waited to hear whether or not I might be able to adopt Chelsea—on pins and needles, really! And just recently I’ve been put on alert to watch my blood pressure; it’s been rising incrementally now, and every day I have to take a reading to see how I’m doing; even to the point of keeping a daily log so that in the event the numbers jump, I must make haste to tell my physician right away. In short, like you, I know what it means to be on the alert.

Being on the alert means keeping one’s eyes wide open, making sure one’s calendar is fitted for new possibilities, reminding oneself that good habits often make one ready for new information and necessary adjustments. Be mentally, spiritually, psychologically, and physically open to the in-coming Kingdom of God. This is the kind of alertful, watchful living that Jesus wants us to cultivate.

In the second reading from First Corinthians, Paul opens the watchful eyes of our hearts and points out what we see when our eyes are wide open:

Just think—you don't need a thing, you've got it all! All God's gifts are right in front of you as you wait expectantly for our Master Jesus to arrive on the scene for the Finale. And not only that, but God himself is right alongside to keep you steady and on track until things are all wrapped up by Jesus. God, who got you started in this spiritual adventure, shares with us the life of his Son and our Master Jesus. He will never give up on you. Never forget that.

O, yes, our culture will tell us to look at stuff and things a’plenty in the next few weeks. Bombarded by discounts, incentives, and come-ons (not to mention nearly constant contradictory economic advisories and political anxieties) , we’ll be tempted to shut the door, turn the key, and disremember that Jesus is a door-, mind-, spirit-and heart-knocker. He’ll be tapping and jiggling the latch often during Advent, especially as he makes his rounds among the unemployed, the lonely, the poor, and the suffering. (Remember last Sunday's Gospel reading from Matthew 25.) If you make sure your door bell rings loudly or that the door-knock on your life is a real banger (loud enough to be heard over a good bit of noise), you’ll find the Master returning, again and again. Say hello to Him when He arrives! Greet Him with a “Come on in, Lord! So good to see you again!"

Image: Holman Hunt, The Light of the World

Introducing Centering Prayer to Richmond, Kentucky

On December 8 and 15, two upcoming Mondays, a group of us will be meeting at my home in Richmond, Kentucky, to begin an introduction to Centering Prayer. Using Thomas Keating's Open Mind, Open Heart as our foundation text, we'll also listen to Keating talking about Centering Prayer on two DVDs: The Method of Centering Prayer and The Psychological Experience of Centering Prayer.

As promised, now and again, I'll be posting what others say about Centering Prayer and sharing some of my own personal experiences. Here, for example, is a gift from William A. Menninger, a friend of Thomas Keating and Basil Pennington, who also helped many of us come to know the beautiful mystery and dynamics of Centering Prayer.

When we practice the simple meditation of contemplative prayer, we love God for Godself alone. We have no other motive. We seek no personal favors, no consolations. We do not pray for anything, not for the church, not for our friends, not for sinners. Simply, Nothing. Nothing. Nothing--but loving God. When we do this, dear friend, something very interesting happens. When we seek to love God above all things with our whole mind, heart, and strength, as Jesus tells us, that love spills over and we soon discover that we are also in God, loving our neighbor and ourselves. This is why when Jesus was asked what was the one great commandment, he had to give two commandments. He said, 'The second commandment is like the first: love your neighbor as yourself for the love of God.
(27)

Meninger, William A. The Loving Search for God: Contemplative Prayer and The Cloud of Unknowing. New York: Continuum, 1998.

Thanksgiving Day, 2008

In the middle of our travels this week, driving from Kentucky to Georgia and preparing for our family gathering at the lakehouse, June and I have not managed our time as well as we hoped. We did not avail ourselves of a Thanksgiving Service either in Kentucky or Georgia. O, yes, a dozen or so of our family will gather together here at Jackson Lake tomorrow, and in preparation June has been cooking and baking all day. I raked up the leaves this afternoon, and I'll be sticking the turkey in the oven sometime around 3:00 a.m. so that it'll be fully roasted by time we sit down around noon tomorrow. To my way of thinking, however, this more or less traditional Thanksgiving falls a good bit short of what Thanksgiving might mean. Somehow a big meal prefaced with a "holding-hands" grace doesn't seem up to the challenge of the Gospel.

Some in my extended family will, however, be doing another sort of Thanksgiving. To them, I say "Thank you for your distinctly Christian witness and worship." If perhaps, you like to join them in spirit, listen and watch Pastor Ron Lewis as he invites us to consider stirring up our Kingdom imagination this and every Thanksgiving by focusing on the guests and not necessarily the menu.

Image: Fritz Eichenberg, The Last Supper

Getting Ready for November 23, The Feast of Christ the King

This coming Sunday is a really big day because on November 23, many Christians—especially those who live within the commemorative rhythms of the Church Year--will be worshipping Jesus on the Feast of Christ the King, the last Sunday of the liturgical year.

As June and I have been reading the appointed lections for the final two or three weeks in this Church Year, we've noticed that the Church is now deliberating thinking, praying, and acting eschatologically; that is, we're moving toward the Final Act while at the same time learning to make present everything that is to come. Living eschastologically means that we live not only with a hope for the “Eschaton” (from the Greek ἐσχάτου = last, final), but that we also wake up each morning already living well within the Ending. Biblically, the End began with birth of Christ, as St. Peter reminds us, "[Christ] was foreknown before the foundation of the world, but has appeared in these last times for your sake" (I Peter 1.20). Ever since the Incarnation, we are already living within God's trajectory toward the great Summing-Up, within what will be God's climaxing of the world. We're like surfers riding within the curl of a Great Wave, God's work in Christ.

As Chrstiains, to put it another way, we're really pilgrims going to the "Great Cathedral." God has started us out on our pilgrimage with Holy Baptism, and now we’re tramping along as people who have set out but not quite yet arrived at our goal. We live “inbetween,” betwixt the Starting Out and the Getting There. This means that we have entered the tension between what is already given and what is not yet given. As a consequence, our experience of salvation is interestingly ambiguous; paradoxically, we already have it and nevertheless we still don't have it yet. We have been saved, but we have been saved in hope. We already live--in Christ, in the Spirit--but we don't yet live fully. By living eschatologically we pray and work by “living inbetween,” inbetween the First Step and the Final Arrival.

So we have a clear orientation in life, even if it does not give us all the answers ready made. God has given us a basic stance or direction, like iron filings in a magnetic field. The future is set; liberated, we are moving toward wonderful freedom. Whatever we are confronted with and engaged by in life, we will always look beyond it to God, from whom and for whom we exist. We live in “the energy field of the future." We do our Scripture reading and lectio divina with “a hermeneutic of hope”; we allow the sacraments to establish and confirm us in “a praxis of hope,” and trusting that God is able to bring to completion “what God in his infinite wisdom and unfathomable grace, has begun,” as Christian Mostert describes us in Hope: Challenging the Culture of Despair (Australian Theological Forum Press, Adelaide, 2004).

Last Sunday as we prayed the collect for the 27th Sunday after Pentecost, the Church reminded us that before the Beginning and after the End, God is the One we may count on:

Almighty and ever-living God, before the earth was form and even after it ceases, you are God. Break into our short span of life and let us see the signs of your final will and purpose, through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

During the Eucharist on the Feast of Christ the King, we will hear Jesus tell us one story about the Great Summing-up as Matthew has remembered it in Chapter 25. We want to look at it now as we ask ourselves about our standing in the Summing-up:

34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, 'Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35f or I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.' 37 Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' 40 And the king will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family (Greek: adelphon mou –– my brothers), you did it to me.'

Now living "in-between" and moving toward the Great Summation, you may also wish to pray the collect for the Feast of Christ the King:

Almighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things to your beloved Son, whom you anointed priest forever and king of all creation: Grant that all the people of the earth now divided by the power of sin, may be united under the glorious and gentle rule of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Image: James B. Janknegt, Cast Our Crowns

November 16: The 27th Sunday after Pentecost

June and I are about to wind up our two-week stay in Santa Fe (we fly back to Nashville tomorrow), and it’s fair to say that we both have found it quite good for our souls. It's a great town for strolling. In spite of the myriad number of shops, bistros, cafes, malls, jewelry stores, bookstalls and stores, galleries, and assorted tourist traps, we've found the town saturated not only with lovely crafts and arts, but also with a quiet sacredness. Perhaps that’s because we’ve visited so many churches, some of which are the oldest in our nation. The city of Santa Fe was founded in 1610, and El San Miguel (St. Michael's) Mission Church was built between 1610 and and 1628. The Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, for example, will soon be celebrating its 400th anniversary; while we did not worship at St. John’s United Methodist Church, we have been told that its worship is vibrant, liturgical, and stunningly beautiful. Our Sundays at Christ Lutheran Church and First Presbyterian Church were Spirit-soaked, Christ-centered, and Father-directed. Our trips to the Monastery of Christ in the Desert and the Taos Pueblo were real treats. So, in due time, I’ll be adding these sacred places to our list of parishes and sanctuaries to visit.

I’m not quite sure what church we’ll visit when in Nashville on Sunday; surely it’s June’s turn to make a choice for us. For those you attending a church that observes the reading of the lectionary, you may want to visit Journey with Jesus to preview the readings.

One of the books I bought at the Monastery of Christ in the Desert yesterday is The Pocket Thomas Merton, ed. with introduction by Robert Inchausti (Boston: New Seeds Pocket Classics, 2005). Although I don’t usually buy such little books, I found this one quite attractive, the sort of book I can easily carry around and read in the odd moments of the day. Quite frankly I’m pressed with the quality of selections Inchausti had made and would like to share some of them with you in the days ahead. Here’s a starter:

The deep secrecy of my own being is often hidden from me by my own estimate of what I am. My idea of what I am is falsified by my admiration for what I do. And my illusions about myself are bred by contagion from the illusions of other men. We all seek to imitate one another’s imagined greatness. If I do not know who I am, it is because I think I am the sort of person everyone around me wants to be. Perhaps I have never asked myself whether I really wanted to become what everybody else seems to want to become. Perhaps if only I realized that I do not admire what everyone seems to admire, I would really begin to live after all. I would be liberated from the painful duty of saying what I really do not think and acting in a way that betrays God’s truth and the integrity of my own soul. (No Man in an Island, 125-26)

Yesterday June and I took a drive up US Route 84 to the Monastery of Christ in the Desert. Working off a map from the Santa Fe's tourist office, we managed to get close, but then found ourselves a bit confused, unable to find a clear marker to the monastery. After getting some directions from a telephone lineman parked near Ghost Ranch, we headed out on a dirt road, not quite sure for a good while whether we were still on the right track. More than once we wondered if we should turn back. Finally we found a lone driver along the way who assured us that in three more miles we would arrive at the monastery. So after a 13-mile drive along a sometimes winding one-land road, we got there. Quite a ride; quite a monastery. Although we not able to stay for the afternoon office of Sext (we need to head back before the canyons darkened too much), we were able to visit the gift shop where Andy bought a few books.

Do visit the monastery online; your pilgrimage will give you a good idea as to what awaited us after our long drive.

Poem of the Week: George Herbert, "Prayer (I)"

PRAYER. (I)

PRAYER the Churches banquet, Angels age,

Gods breath in man returning to his birth,

The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,

The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth ;

Engine against th’ Almightie, sinner's towre,

Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,

The six daies world-transposing in an houre,

A kinde of tune, which all things heare and fear ;

Softnesse, and peace, and joy, and love, and blisse,

Exalted Manna, gladnesse of the best,

Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest,

The milkie way, the bird of Paradise,

Church-bels beyond the stars heard, the souls bloud,

The land of spices, something understood.

Source: Herbert, George. The Poetical Works of George Herbert.New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1857. 61-62.

Visiting Santa Fe Parishes

A week ago Sunday June and I worshipped at Christ Lutheran Church in Santa Fe, and yesterday we joined the people of First Presbyterian Church, located only a few blocks from where we’re staying. Both parishes describe themselves as “reconciling communities”; for Lutherans this means designation as a Reconciling in Christ congregation of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and for Presbyterians a shared ministry in the Reconcilling Ministries Network.

Listening to NPR on the radio this morning, I heard Garrison Keillor read Wendell Berry’s “How to be a Poet.” As one of Kentucky’s own, Berry is surely a favorite, and this poem one I’ve loved to read and muse upon often. In many ways (though not all), it might be retitled “How to Practice Centering Prayer.” Give it your thoughtful reflection. Who knows, maybe you are both a prayerful person and a poet; after all, God graced the lives and witness of John of the Cross, Thomas Merton, and Charles Wesley in such fashion.

How To Be a Poet

(to remind myself)

Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill—more of each
than you have—inspiration,
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your work,
doubt their judgment.

Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air.
Shun electric wire.
Communicate slowly. Live
a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places.

Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.

"How to be a Poet" by Wendell Berry from Given. © Shoemaker Hoard, 2005. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

November 9: The Twenty-sixth Sunday after Pentecost

The week has gone by so quickly, and only late last night did it dawn ("midnight"!) on me that I had forgotten to remind ourselves that we might look forward to today’s lectionary readings by taking a look at Daniel B. Clendenin’s commentary at Journey with Jesus. So now that we’re only hours away from listening to the readings during worship, perhaps we might consider Clendenin’s considerations something like “after-we've heard" reflections. At any rate, take a look if you’re inclined. I’ll do my best to post Clendenin’s musings for next Sunday sometime tomorrow.

When it appears as though nothing happens in Centering Prayer

June and I are staying for two weeks in the Villas de Santa Fe near the Palace of the Governors in central Santa Fe. As nearly always, I awoke about 5:00, fixed a cup of strong coffee, sat down comfortably in a somewhat overstuffed chair, turned out the room light, closed my eyes, and began centering prayer. Not much happened during the next twenty minutes. When my internal alarm let me know that twenty or so minutes had gone by, I opened my eyes; the room was filled with a grayish early morning light, letting me know that it was cloudy outside. Importantly, I was aware that not much had happened while in centering prayer. And while I felt rested, that in itself is not unusual. Indeed, it is often not unusual that not much happens while one is centering in prayer.

It's here that Thomas Keating's words in Intimacy with God provide us with some clarification as to what is going on:

The sense of rest is relative, so we have to deduce our deep absorption in God through other signs. One of these is the swift passage of time. We sit down and thoughts keep going by. Since we have not learned to ignore all prerecorded commentaries, the thought comes, "This isn't much of a prayer today." And yet as the beeper goes off at the end of our prayer period, it seems like we had just sat down. When we do not notice the passage of time or when it seems very short, we must have been in a deep place. Time is the measure of motion, of particular objects going by. When there are a lot of thoughts, prayer seems long. When we are aware of a lot of thoughts and prayer still seems like a short time, then we have been firmly centered. Remember the great gospel teaching: the Kingdom of God is not in grandiose experiences, but in the passage of ordinary time. This is where the seeds of grace are growing. God intervenes in our prayer, but not so we would notice it. The deeper our prayer actually is, the more it habitually drops out of our ordinary awareness. When we experience spiritual consolation, this is our interpretation of the divine action within us. Hence it is conditioned by our cultural background, temperament, and personal history." (95)

As Keating often reminds us, we enter centering prayer without expectations; we enter only with our intention to be with God. And with God, we can be assured that his healing is often done quietly, without fanfare, ever so gently in the silence of his love.

Image: R. C. Gorman, Angelina II

A Prayer for our President-elect, Barak Obama

Almighty God, most holy Father,

we pray today for President-elect Barak Obama, asking
that You, the infinite font of wisdom, might grant him wisdom daily;

that You, the loving God of all, might grant him love for you and for others, including our enemies;

that You, the holy and righteous God of justice, might empower him to do what is right in all that he does;

that You, the Lord, might grant him the charisma of insight to lead in this turbulent world and time;

that You, the Healer, might grant him the grace of reconciling damaged relations in this country and in the world about us;

that You, the God of Life, might grant him a commitment to act for all -- the unborn and born, the young and old, the civilian and the soldier -- to preserve life and honor that each of us is fashioned in the image of God;

that You, the Father, might grant him the time and wisdom to father his two young daughters and love Michelle, his wife;

and that You, the God of all comfort, might grace him and his family as they mourn the loss of his grandmother.Lord, hear our prayer;

through Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. A men.

[This prayer was originally posted by Scott McKnight on Jesus Creed and has been lightly edited.]

Lectio in the pocket

As some of you may notice, our blog has recently been expanded to include posts and commentary on Centering Prayer. This morning we begin also to include observations and notes on Lectio Divina, another practice that many who pray the Daily Office find exceptionally helpful in the formation of their life in Christ.

For some time now I’ve been doing what I call “lectio in the pocket,” a simply way of extending lectio throughout the day. Usually I practice lectio with a cup of coffee almost immediately after waking up in the morning. On most mornings, after taking a “pre-viewing” look at one of the lectionary readings for the day, I settle on one and slowly begin to read. I don’t necessarily read it all the way through, but often just enough to note something that the Holy Spirit suggests as important, perhaps a word, a phrase, maybe a sentence, sometimes a verse or two. After a few minutes of quiet consideration, I then write out the word, phrase, or sentence onto a little piece of paper and stick it in my pocket so that I can carry it with me during the day. As a consequence, I find that I often am reminded of it throughout the day. When I reach in my pocket to get my car keys, there it is: ready for reflection again. When I look for some change to buy a newspaper, I find it again and then find myself reconsidering its importance. When I work around the house and put something else in my pocket—a pencil, a receipt, a grocery list—I find it again. And again I reflect on what the Holy Spirit is suggesting, recommending, asking me to pray over and act upon.

I've taken a photo of this morning's "lectio in the pocket"; tonight's third reading is from Luke 13, and it begins at verse 18. I read only verses 18-19. That was enough for the Holy Spirit to say, "Stop right there, Andy, and mull over what Jesus is saying here to you throughout the day. Write his words down and put them into your pocket. Mull over them today; see what Jesus is saying to you. Listen to Jesus' words to you today and put them into practice as best you can with the Spirit's guidance." At the end of today's lectio, I will scribble a few words or thoughts on the back of Jesus' words for me. Maybe tomorrow I'll share them with you.

My “lectio in the pocket” scribbling is often pretty bad, and sometimes I do a bit of doodling; but it’s good enough for me to decipher, and often I’m glad I took the moment or two to write out the day’s lectio and stick it into my pocket, usually my left-front pants pocket because I’m left-handed. You may want to give it a try, no matter how “handed” you are.