A four-volume set of books, collectively known at the
Philokalia, has attracted my attention for years. Sometime last week, reading in and around the first volume containing St. Hesychios’ “On Watchfulness and Holiness,” I found myself underlining this passage:
Each hour of the day we should note and weigh our actions and in the evening we should do what we can to free ourselves from the burden of them by means of repentance—if that is, we wish, with Christ’s help, to overcome wickedness. (124)
St. Hesychios’ advice is good. After supper in our Evening Prayers, after three or four minutes into Evening Prayer, after we have said or sung the
Phos Hilarion, spoken a blessing upon each other, and joined together in saying a portion of Psalm 141, a small rubric in
our prayerbook asks us to observe “Silence for meditation.”
While I suppose that as the day passes, we are aware, more or less, of how things have been going, the evening silence for meditation is an especially good time for summing up and reflecting on the day’s thoughts and actions. We don’t always observe a long silence (sometimes it’s very short), but most of the time we allow a minute or so to go by. During that silence we reflect on what has happened during the day.
This “summing up” allows us to explore and examine the more subtle forms of egotism to which we are constantly inclined. In contemplative language, our review of these egoistic activities alerts us as to how we have been constructing what Thomas Merton calls a “false self.”
Each of us knows how to construct a bogus, phony, cooked-up, and specious self; that is, we are experts in creating identifies intended to deceive others—and ourselves--as to who we really are. I, for example, am given to suggest that I’m a decent practicing Christian. Writing these sentences is right now a movement in that direction. For example, I like to read novels, poetry, and "Christian" literature. However, lots of times I am tempted to read so that I can underline a quotable passage, a temptation which professional academics find especially fetching. My false self is especially prone to the production of such presentations. I like to associate myself with famous Christians and other writers. In other words, surely you will recognize me by the company I keep. Just take a look at what I write.
My personal tendency towards egotistic actions (often known only to myself) Luther describes as
homo curvatus in se, “the human turning in upon the self.” That is, as a human being, I like to turn my gaze (and, if possible, yours) upon myself. I’m the subtle object of my own (and hopefully your) fascination.
Homo curvatus in se. Here's how it works: although I don’t usually say so emphaticly, I’m personally convinced that my thinking is generally a little better than your thinking; my politics slightly more on target than yours; my spiritual life, especially when seen in the right light, is at least a tad better than most others. And, of course, my use of centemplative silence more productive than yours.
Homo curvatus in se among us humans is insideous. Dangerous. If left unchecked, it marginalizes and eventually discounts as unnecessary or nothing one’s True Self: Christ.
Consequently, although the curve or arch of one's life tends to head in one direction, we need to go in another direction. Curving, arching, and habitually swerving toward one’s self, we need to redirect ourselves—minds, hearts, strength, and soul--toward another destination: Christ.
Such redirection is called repentance. St. Hesychios suggests that "in the evening we should do what we can to free ourselves from the burden of them [that is, the recollection and exact personal location of
curvatus in se] by means of repentance." Daily silence as a part of regular prayer allows for this interior examination of a developing false identity whose scaffolding needs deconstruction. Within daily "silence for meditation" we examine ourselves, locate our movements away from God, acknowledge our waywardness, open ourselves to God's grace, receive God's forgiveness , and move forward toward praising and thanking God for his healing mercies.
After the “silence for meditation” or reflection, our prayerbook, echoing images from Psalm 141, asks us to offer this prayer:
Let in incense of our repentant prayer ascend before you, O Lord, and let your loving kindness descend upon us, that with purified minds we may sing your praises with the Church on earth and the whole heavenly host, and may glorify you forever and ever.
It is then, after repenting for how we have damaged ourselves during the day and opening ourselves to God's grace, that we go on to sing the appointed psalms for the day. Reconstruction and healing follow as we enter the psalms in solidarity with Christ, solidarity with his earthly and heavenly Church, solidarity with our sisters and brothers around the world, and solidarity with the poor and those suffering from injustice. Now we can sing the psalms "with purified minds," glorifying God, trusting Him to help us make possible the kingdom of Jesus.
Image:
For All the Saints, "Evening Prayer," Vol. 1, 498.
Within our small group, a number of us (in addition to praying the Church's Morning and Evening Prayers) practice Centering Prayer and make suggestions to one another that will help us sit quietly before God in patient silence. Yesterday a friend sent me this quotation from Timothy Jones' The Art of Prayer: A Simple Guide (New York: Ballantine Books, 1997); it's worth sharing.
