Being in the St. Thérèse hermitage here at Nada makes me think of the beach on the South Carolina coast. There are miles of sand creeping right up to the door, blowing in through the screened windows and leaving a gritty coating on every surface. It’s difficult to walk in as well. Unlike being at the beach, however, there’s no ocean just over the ridge; no salt smell in the air. Walk as long as you care to, and you’ll come to verdant pastures a lot sooner than you’ll arrive at an ocean shore. Life’s journey is somewhat like that. We become dissatisfied with the sand that banks around our front steps and aggravated at having to sweep and wipe up the grains on the floor and furniture, so we set out to climb the ridge and search for the ocean.
That search, or pilgrimage, is an attempt to travel to sacred places looking for whatever our restless hearts think will satisfy the longing we feel. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, for even great saints like Augustine declared, “God, you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in you." While I think going on a pilgrimage is a wonderful idea, I would like to suggest a different approach. Granted, I traveled quite a distance to discover these ideas—more than half way across the country—but once I was there, I stayed put for thirteen days. Fr. Eric Haarar, a resident priest at Nada says, “Yes, God is present everywhere. But we are not. We are the ones who are so often absent. Sacred times and places do not make God more present to us, they make us more present to God.” Staying put in a small hermitage that had a micro-kitchen on one wall, a desk on the opposite wall, a bedroom large enough for a single bed and table, and a bath was the setting I needed to make myself more present to God.
And, so, I ask myself, “How do I make myself present to the God that I know is present in me?”
While on retreat, I had copious opportunity to read, write, pray, and meditate. I decided to consider what the early church fathers and mothers said about being present to God. For example, Isaac the Syrian said, “The ladder of the Kingdom is within you, hidden in your soul. Plunge deeply within yourself, away from sin, and there you will find steps by which you will be able to ascend.” Gregory of Nyssa said, “All the heavens fit into the palm of God’s hand. And though [he] is so great that [he] can grasp all creation in [his] palm, you can wholly embrace [him]; [He] dwells within you, nor is [he] cramped as [he] pervades your entire being.” God is so big that God is beyond our understanding, rational minds, yet God fills us completely and makes that presence known through the God in us, or the Holy Spirit. St. Teresa of Avila, one of the patrons of the Carmelites said, “Within oneself, very clearly, is the best place to look for God… and it’s not necessary to go to heaven, nor any further than our own selves; for to do so is to tire the spirit and distract the soul without gaining much fruit.”
Maybe that’s why our hearts grow restless. Looking inside oneself can be a struggle because sometimes I think, very often, we don’t think we will like ourselves very much. Morton Kelsey tells a story about a patient of Carl Jung. The man was a minister who was exhausted from overwork. Jung instructed him to limit his work hours and to spend some time alone each day. For a number of evenings the minister went into his study, played the piano, and read books from his library, but several days later returned to Jung feeling no better. Jung asked him what he had done to follow the simple prescription, and when the minister told him, Jung replied, “But you didn’t understand! I didn’t want you with Hermann Hesse or Thomas Mann, or even Mozart or Chopin. I wanted you to be all alone with yourself.” At this the minister looked terrified and gasped, “Oh, but I can’t think of any worse company!” to which Jung replied, “And yet this is the self you inflict on other people fourteen hours a day.”* It doesn’t have to be that way. We can cultivate a friendship with ourselves, and ultimately with the God within. God wants to fill the God-shaped hole, and frankly, only God can do that.
I thought it would be hard sitting in a hermitage with only myself and God for company, but as it turned out, the days went by far too fast. At the end of my retreat, I felt a new freedom and a deep sense of trust that God would lead me where God wants me to be.
(Kelsey, Morton. The Other Side of Silence. New York: Paulist Press, 1976.)
That search, or pilgrimage, is an attempt to travel to sacred places looking for whatever our restless hearts think will satisfy the longing we feel. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, for even great saints like Augustine declared, “God, you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in you." While I think going on a pilgrimage is a wonderful idea, I would like to suggest a different approach. Granted, I traveled quite a distance to discover these ideas—more than half way across the country—but once I was there, I stayed put for thirteen days. Fr. Eric Haarar, a resident priest at Nada says, “Yes, God is present everywhere. But we are not. We are the ones who are so often absent. Sacred times and places do not make God more present to us, they make us more present to God.” Staying put in a small hermitage that had a micro-kitchen on one wall, a desk on the opposite wall, a bedroom large enough for a single bed and table, and a bath was the setting I needed to make myself more present to God.
And, so, I ask myself, “How do I make myself present to the God that I know is present in me?”
While on retreat, I had copious opportunity to read, write, pray, and meditate. I decided to consider what the early church fathers and mothers said about being present to God. For example, Isaac the Syrian said, “The ladder of the Kingdom is within you, hidden in your soul. Plunge deeply within yourself, away from sin, and there you will find steps by which you will be able to ascend.” Gregory of Nyssa said, “All the heavens fit into the palm of God’s hand. And though [he] is so great that [he] can grasp all creation in [his] palm, you can wholly embrace [him]; [He] dwells within you, nor is [he] cramped as [he] pervades your entire being.” God is so big that God is beyond our understanding, rational minds, yet God fills us completely and makes that presence known through the God in us, or the Holy Spirit. St. Teresa of Avila, one of the patrons of the Carmelites said, “Within oneself, very clearly, is the best place to look for God… and it’s not necessary to go to heaven, nor any further than our own selves; for to do so is to tire the spirit and distract the soul without gaining much fruit.”
Maybe that’s why our hearts grow restless. Looking inside oneself can be a struggle because sometimes I think, very often, we don’t think we will like ourselves very much. Morton Kelsey tells a story about a patient of Carl Jung. The man was a minister who was exhausted from overwork. Jung instructed him to limit his work hours and to spend some time alone each day. For a number of evenings the minister went into his study, played the piano, and read books from his library, but several days later returned to Jung feeling no better. Jung asked him what he had done to follow the simple prescription, and when the minister told him, Jung replied, “But you didn’t understand! I didn’t want you with Hermann Hesse or Thomas Mann, or even Mozart or Chopin. I wanted you to be all alone with yourself.” At this the minister looked terrified and gasped, “Oh, but I can’t think of any worse company!” to which Jung replied, “And yet this is the self you inflict on other people fourteen hours a day.”* It doesn’t have to be that way. We can cultivate a friendship with ourselves, and ultimately with the God within. God wants to fill the God-shaped hole, and frankly, only God can do that.
I thought it would be hard sitting in a hermitage with only myself and God for company, but as it turned out, the days went by far too fast. At the end of my retreat, I felt a new freedom and a deep sense of trust that God would lead me where God wants me to be.
(Kelsey, Morton. The Other Side of Silence. New York: Paulist Press, 1976.)
This quote especially caught my attention: "Sacred times and places do not make God more present to us, they make us more present to God."
ReplyDeleteMany Christians tend to make Sunday morning church attendance a "sacred time and place" ---well, isn't it supposed to be so? Not recently for me. Oh, occasionally the sermon or homily strikes a cord within me, but I am not present to God there right now. So here I am on a Sunday morning in the solitude of my back deck - listening, smelling, feeling, seeing the presence of God.
"The start, middle and end of the spiritual journey is the conviction that God is always present. ..... God is present to us all the time but inaccessible as long as we have preconceived ideas and judgments based solely on the feedback our senses and feelings provide." (Thomas Keating, "The Fruits and Gifts of the Spirit", Chapter 1) Well, the feedback I get in church recently does not illuminate God's presence to me. Why is not yet known to me. Perhaps church worship has become too routine and ordinary, without enthusiasm or encouragement for me. God knows, but I don't seem to be getting the message.
Anyway, if I'm not going to meet God in church, then I need to meet Him somewhere, somehow. In "Running with Expanding Heart," Benedictine Mary Reuter recommends, "Stepping out of the usual ordinary of our lives to open to what is beyond our doing and habitual reacting brings awareness. Our lives can then keep on making more of us." So since church attendance is my usual and ordinary Sundays, I've decided to be "un-churched" for the month of July.
Since childhood, the sacred time and place that makes me most present to God is solitude in Nature. So again, and for now, knowing God may occur in a place beyond theology.
I hope your experiment of being "unchurched" works to help you find sacred space, once again, in the Community of God's people. When the liturgy isn't working for me or when communion is "dry," I still tend to want to be in church for the people who bear God's imprint on their souls.
ReplyDeleteAt Nada, there was no church for most of the time I was there. The hermits were all in a week of solitude which happens once a month. They, too, take a break from the routine of morning and evening workship and Mass at noonday. That happens only on Wed., Thurs, and Fri. Then on Saturday, they have Benediction and Entrance into Sabbath so that Mass on Sunday is a really big celebration. It's also followed by a community brunch. Burnout in our faith practices is a real issue, especially for people who are active in their communities. I think you have come to a good understanding of what you need to do, but don't be surprised if you find some theology on your deck or in the woods beyond the fence.
Solitude can be necessary for me to be at-one with The Holy One. The issue of finding holiness in church or faith-based gatherings is an ironic one at times. Fallible people say/do things that are contrary to what I believe God would have me say/do. This creates a sunburst of questions... How do I love my neighbor when I disagree strongly? Where is The Holy One in another? In myself? The solitude and the community times work best for me in tandem and in balance; they complement each other. I also am in a season of trying to be with God, more deeply... more intimately. I liken the life-faith journey I am experiencing as a labyrinth walk... sometimes I am very close to the center (God) as I walk... other times I am not - in ways more than geographic - but all of the labyrinth walk together creates, informs, nurtures my spirituality. The solitude time tends to enhance my spiritual self while the community tends to widen my perceptions.
ReplyDelete