Whether it is baking bread as a spiritual discipline, playing music, walking in the woods, or sitting in quiet Centering Prayer meditation, two truths have been constants for me when it comes to spiritual disciplines: 1) the more I practice, the deeper I trust God's grace; and 2) I am a consistently inconsistent contemplative. I am restless, easily bored, full of myself, addicted to thinking, prone to fretting, often distracted, profoundly grateful, and deeply in love with the One we call Holy. I wander a lot in the wilderness. I get lost a lot, too yet God always finds me. More often than not these days, my heart grows homesick quickly. As I learn to be a little more still and wait upon the Lord, God comes to me. I don't find God, as Henri Nouwen writes: God finds me. The more I give my self to practices of centering, the more I am open to receiving God's love that will not let me go. Nouwen adds:
Looking at my journey thus far, I can clearly name five practices that have given me a measure of attentiveness that pushes back at all the absurdities and softens my hard heart: I think of them as the Five Cs.
+ Contemplation: practicing silence and solitude. This practice has at least three distinctive parts. First, the solitude of restoration: resting like the Holy One on the Sabbath and relaxing like Jesus at the end of a long day. Second, the solitude of exploration: wrestling with our demons like Jesus in the desert or ancient Israel on the path to the land of milk and honey. And third, the solitude of formation: study, training and personal reflection like St. Paul's time in the desert after his Damascus Road experience.
+ Compassion: simple acts of service. Jean Vanier wisely told Krista Tippett that the best way to overcome despair is to share simple acts of tenderness and mercy where we live. He called it the "10 Foot Rule" where those who see a need respond to it in ways we can touch. Bring food to the hungry, visit the lonely, clothe the naked in your own community and any sense of futility evaporates. My experience tells me Vanier was right.
+ Challenge: consciously saying "no" to empire. Richard Rohr speaks of this as the "quiet refusal" of Jesus to "participate in almost all external power structures or domination systems." How do I use my cash? My credit? My time? My leisure habits? What food do I buy? Or coffee? Or tea? Or chocolate? How are my retirement funds invested? None of us can fully unplug from empire, but we can do a lot more than we think with intentionality and a commitment to the Beloved Community.
+ Celebration: feasting in community. Once again Vanier is my guide and each L'Arche home my teacher. At the close of every day - and whenever a birthday or anniversary pops up - individuals are celebrated with gusto by the whole community. Good food, good drink and lots of laughter follow as the party teaches us we are beloved. Much of the ministry of Jesus took place around a common table and in our all too busy lives we can reclaim our humanity by doing likewise.
+ Camaraderie: publicly acts of solidarity. To combat alienation and oppression I sense people of faith are called to stand up in public for the wounded and the powerless. This is not "noblesse oblige," but rather the recognition that we are all sisters and brothers of one human family regardless of race, tribe, gender, religion or class. Pastor Niemoller's poetic lament is an honest articulation of our shared destiny: "If they come for me in the morning, they will come for you at night. Remember: first they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me." They came for the LGBTQ and Roma communities, too and no one spoke out as well as those with physical and intellectual disabilities.
We live in a dangerous and absurd time. To strength our commitment to trust and tenderness, we need practices. Maybe mine can help.
+ Contemplation: practicing silence and solitude. This practice has at least three distinctive parts. First, the solitude of restoration: resting like the Holy One on the Sabbath and relaxing like Jesus at the end of a long day. Second, the solitude of exploration: wrestling with our demons like Jesus in the desert or ancient Israel on the path to the land of milk and honey. And third, the solitude of formation: study, training and personal reflection like St. Paul's time in the desert after his Damascus Road experience.
+ Compassion: simple acts of service. Jean Vanier wisely told Krista Tippett that the best way to overcome despair is to share simple acts of tenderness and mercy where we live. He called it the "10 Foot Rule" where those who see a need respond to it in ways we can touch. Bring food to the hungry, visit the lonely, clothe the naked in your own community and any sense of futility evaporates. My experience tells me Vanier was right.
+ Challenge: consciously saying "no" to empire. Richard Rohr speaks of this as the "quiet refusal" of Jesus to "participate in almost all external power structures or domination systems." How do I use my cash? My credit? My time? My leisure habits? What food do I buy? Or coffee? Or tea? Or chocolate? How are my retirement funds invested? None of us can fully unplug from empire, but we can do a lot more than we think with intentionality and a commitment to the Beloved Community.
+ Celebration: feasting in community. Once again Vanier is my guide and each L'Arche home my teacher. At the close of every day - and whenever a birthday or anniversary pops up - individuals are celebrated with gusto by the whole community. Good food, good drink and lots of laughter follow as the party teaches us we are beloved. Much of the ministry of Jesus took place around a common table and in our all too busy lives we can reclaim our humanity by doing likewise.
+ Camaraderie: publicly acts of solidarity. To combat alienation and oppression I sense people of faith are called to stand up in public for the wounded and the powerless. This is not "noblesse oblige," but rather the recognition that we are all sisters and brothers of one human family regardless of race, tribe, gender, religion or class. Pastor Niemoller's poetic lament is an honest articulation of our shared destiny: "If they come for me in the morning, they will come for you at night. Remember: first they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me." They came for the LGBTQ and Roma communities, too and no one spoke out as well as those with physical and intellectual disabilities.
We live in a dangerous and absurd time. To strength our commitment to trust and tenderness, we need practices. Maybe mine can help.
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