contemplation is more than silence: it is compassion unleashed in our ordinary lives...

A new/old narrative is re-emerging from within contemplatives of all stripes, sizes, hues and spiritual traditions - and that is good news for all of us who take the journey inward/outward seriously. A recent meme posted by Center for Action and Contemplation: Radical Grace put it like this:

WHERE IS THE ICON OF THE MYSTIC WITH ONE BABY ON HER HIP, A TODDLER CRYING AT HER FEET, COOKING DINNER WITH ONE HAND AND TRYING TO FINISH HER WORK ON A LAPTOP WITH THE OTHER? BECAUSE THAT'S MY REAL LIFE!

Richard Rohr recently wrote: "After recently visiting Mexico and some of the refugee centers along the Texas border and seeing so many children and babies with their parents, I was reminded that contemplative Christianity’s rather monastic, solitary, silent approach just can’t be adequate to describe contemplation for most people." That is, the time has come to confess that this form of spirituality - long celebrated as the essence of authentic contemplation - is not only just one of the ways we can meet sacred, but a highly privileged and elite practice affordable to the rare few.

(The old way simply can't be the only way) or many of God’s children could never know God. Contemplation (must be re-framed as) simply our openness to God’s loving presence in “what is” right in front of you— which is what I saw these parents do. This presence to Presence can be cultivated in many ways that don’t require sitting on a mat for twenty minutes.

Don't misunderstand: the solitary and silent expression of prayer and trust is precious and will always be true. I have always been attracted to the monastic way of being and find that now, in my retirement from church work, I can live into this practice more thoroughly. But Rohr and others are right: "If we expect the same disciplined practice of twenty minutes of silence twice a day of every one — for example, busy parents of young children — I think we’re setting ourselves up for delusion. (Rather) when you keep allowing love to flow toward you and toward others, that is a contemplative life. It is not as easy as it seems. Many laypeople are far more mature in the spiritual life than those of us who have all the accouterments of celibacy, quiet, and protected solitude."

Last night, for example, not only did I experience a few transcendent moments while playing music in a New York bistro, but there were times when the eclectic crowd did, too. Sometimes it looked like dancing, others times ecstatic applause after a particularly rousing guitar or harmonica solo. And there were times of deep concentration that evoked compassion for the vulnerable and anger at the culture of greed that currently shapes our politics. Emily Sailers of the Indigo Girls and Carlos Santana have told similar tales both about their own encounters with music as contemplation as well as what those gathered to engage their music have discovered as strangers become connected in a sacred secular community in the song.

To be sure, there are those of us who need - and have the context that permits - solitude and silence. But as Rohr concludes: 

Hidden away in the middle of Parker Palmer’s recent book, On the Brink of Everything, is a wonderful, simple definition of contemplation: “Contemplation is any way one has of penetrating illusion and touching reality.” I think that's brilliant. There are things that force you toward a contemplative mind (for example, your mother’s death), because they force you to face reality, and that can free you from lot of illusions. I’m still grateful to the monastic and Buddhist teachers. But sitting in silence isn’t the whole enchilada. Life is the whole enchilada.

My spiritual director in Cleveland - a wise, old saint - used to tell me over and again: "Go slow. One step at a time. Light one candle each day consistently rather than make promises you can never accomplish. A little light is the best we can hope for." Fr. Jim was right - and 30 years later I know it to be true. Not that I always get there, but I know it to be true. And salvific. And sacred. Take it slow...