unless ye become as a child...

If it happens enough, with regularity and intentionality, maybe I should pay attention: do you think? I'm talking about the on-again/off-again request for what some call spiritual direction but which I choose to think of as spiritual accompaniment. John O'Donohue's term, Anam Cara (Gaelic for Soul Friend) rings true for me, too. In a culture that is too fast and too shallow; in an era of too many words without adequate space for listening or silence; in a high-tech milieu that forsakes and forgets high-touch human relationships that move only at the speed of the soul: my sense is that all types of people are aching to be loved. Taken seriously. Valued and cherished rather than used and discarded. Jean Vanier teaches that the essence of the human condition is a yearning to belong - and I think he's right.

There isn't a week that races by that I don't encounter some person who is hungry to be heard. It could be standing in line at Wal-Mart. Or the clerk at the grocery store. Sometimes its at the library or in my favorite coffee shop. All it takes is a quiet smile or the tip of my head and people start telling me their stories. Or their fears. Or their worries. Vanier has discerned that within us all is a lonely and insecure child aching to be loved.

Every child, every person needs to know that they are a source of joy; every child, every person, needs to be celebrated. Only when all of our weaknesses are accepted as part of our humanity can our negative, broken self-images be transformed.

No wonder Jesus told us that unless we become like a little child, the realm of God's grace and love will elude us. Owning our wounds, our vulnerabilities, reconnects us to living like a child in the world. The liturgy I often use at a baptism tells of a time when people were bringing their children to Jesus for a blessing. Thinking the Lord ought not be bothered with little ones, the disciples rebuked the parents and their children - which angered Jesus. "Let the children come to me, do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly I say to you: whoever does not receive the realm of God like a child shall not enter it." (Luke 18: 17) 

Another passage from Mark 9 has Jesus saying: "If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea." And my favorite from Matthew 11 is where Jesus returns prayers of thanksgiving to God for the trust of little one: “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will...Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Vanier notes that when we open our hearts to God and one another, we become
as a little child - and this is how we move towards healing. For a long time, I resisted returning to the metaphor of childhood as a spiritual practice. While in Tucson a woman said to me, "You know what I really want? To become an adult of God, not a child. I am grown and want to know more about being an adult of the Lord." That made sense to me then and in some ways still does: none of us want to be diminished by a religious hierarchy or infantilized by a spirituality of control. Oppression and the call to autonomy is what shaped the contemporary women's movement to reject the word "surrender" in the 12 Step process. Surrender is about losing - being forced into submission by an overwhelming power - and there are just too many problems with such imagery. Some of us have now prefer the word relinquished as it honors autonomy while recognizing the need to let go, too. These days, however, I find myself returning to the childhood metaphor as a way of understanding my own spiritual ripening. It evokes tenderness and unknowing as much as needing guidance and love. Vanier puts it like this:

A tiny child needs not only food and shelter but something more… much more… a feeling of love, that someone cares for him, ready to die for her, that she is really loved, that he is important… precious. And so (that child) begins to live and begins to sense the value of his/her being. And so it is that life rises in this child so that she grows in confidence and in the possibilities of life and of creation.

Using the imagery of childhood development keeps my life grounded in small realities. "Let us not put our sights too high. We do not have to be saviors of the world! We are simply human beings, enfolded in weakness and in hope, called together to change our world one heart at a time.” (Vanier) We can do little things - do few things but do them well sings St. Francis - take your time go slowly. Very childlike. Not childish, mind you, but like a child, one step at a time.

Those words, "one step at a time," keep popping up the more I sit and listen to others. Yesterday, I spent four hours with a young clergy person discerning crucial next steps. Today I was in the hospital for prayer with a young family needing to take one step at a time. "Now we see as through a glass darkly," kept running through my mind. "Later we shall see face to face." Now we take one step at a time; later we can run with perseverance the race set before us. Now we live and move and have our being as God's tender and vulnerable children. Later... well, as Revelation 21 puts it, later we shall see:

... a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among us. God dwells with and within them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; wiping every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things will have passed away. Then one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.”

In a new/old way I am realizing once again that part of my calling in retirement is to be available for spiritual accompaniment like a new/old child. Anam Cara. Listening carefully and sharing small acts of love, tenderness, and welcome one heart at a time.