THE SCENT OF HIDDEN SPRINGS – Some Thoughts About Roots and Flourishing (Introduction)

THE SCENT OF HIDDEN SPRINGS
– Some Thoughts About Roots and Flourishing

_______________________

INTRODUCTION

“What’s it all about, Alfie?”

So sang Dionne Warwick in a famous song, which became a major hit for Cilla Black, by Burt Bacharach way back in 1966.  It was written for the film of the same name – Alfie – and she went on to ruminate about life, what was all about? A moment’s pleasure? Making more than you give? And then asked if it’s it foolish to be kind, wise to be cruel? Does life only belong to the strong? The turning point came when she admitted that she believed there was a heaven above, that there’s much more to life and that even non-believers can believe in love. In one poignant line she sang:

‘Without true love we just exist, Alfie. Until you find the love you've missed you're nothing, Alfie.’

            The song may have been written over fifty years ago but the question remains: what’s it all about? It’s the kind of question that we’re suddenly faced with at times of crisis. Teenagers, when they hit upon that existential phase, often stumble upon it. Lovers wonder at it. As we gaze on nature we find it can ask us – what meaning does life have …? Is it really all summed up as ‘eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you die’?

            This book isn’t meant to be a deeply philosophical tome but a reflection – a meditation, an exploration – into some of the fundamental questions about life and death each of us can find ourselves facing. It’s come about because of the way many of these questions were dealt with in the past is no longer accessible to a generation cut off from its ancient roots, people who have lost interest in religion. Many of these fundamental questions of our being touch on the religious dimension of life and yet, equally, many of us have no time for religion. Of course there are some who will say “I’m spiritual, not religious” but the Christian faith doesn’t seem to have much appeal to the young. And no wonder when, so often, what is reported is the way Christians have abused others, exercised power for their own ends, denied people their sexual rights or refused to accept minorities. Christianity has become seen as homophobic, narrow-minded and bigoted offering simplistic answers to deep and complicated questions. Yet people of other faiths don’t seem ashamed to admit they’re Muslim or Hindu and are able to access the wisdom of their religions and young people aren’t afraid to claim that they are followers of Mohammed or devotees of Shiva, Krishna or Lakshmi. So this book will try to re-connect us with some of the roots of that faith which nurtured and nourished our society for two thousand years yet no longer seems relevant (what an over-used word!) to many. We’re detached from faith – or semi-detached at best – but the house in which we live has unsearched basements and cellars containing vast hordes of wisdom for us to explore. We’ve hidden springs for refreshment, caves containing treasures yet the doorway to these has often been forgotten, is covered in cobwebs or is ignored – “we don’t want to go there, what’s the point?” But if we lose touch with our roots we’re in danger of becoming de-stabilised, a shallow generation that is satisfied by superficialities.

In depth living

            One of the things I do is to sit and listen to people try to make sense of God in their life and explore all the movements that happen within them as they try to give attention to God – it’s called ‘spiritual direction’ and if you want to know more then there’s some notes at the back. Many of the issues that people want to explore and many which seem to be around in society, both sacred but mainly secular, concern matters that the great Traditions of Christianity, for want of a better term, have always addressed. Just because someone may have jettisoned religion, faith, God etc. the questions don't go away. Getting rid of God means we’ve blocked off a source of wisdom and insight and ignoring the Christianity might mean we don’t have to bother with it but it also means that we’ve lost the ability to access that ‘wisdom of the ages’ which has helped people to live and not just survive.  As someone wrote to me:

            ‘As you know I am one of your acquaintances who does not have a faith, is not a believer. Neither am I an intellectual in anyway shape or form. However, I do question where our humanity has gone, I love the wisdom of the ages from those spiritual leaders, be it religious or pagan. I think the past has so much to             teach us; so much in this modern age is being forgotten. Everything is so shallow and meaningless.’

So this book sets out to look at matters such as what it means to be human and why we’re here, why doesn’t God go away, what gives meaning and purpose to life, why we resonate with ‘spiritual’ things, why people suffer, how we can become more beautiful and, perhaps most poignant of all, aging and death. And throughout I’ll try to look at what the ‘wisdom of the ages’ might have to offer us for religion, down the ages, has looked at all these matters, and more, and tried to make sense of them. At its best religion doesn’t attempt to provide answers but to shine a light on the path that leads into the heart of our being where we can discover the truth of who we are and how we connect – and realise ourselves, with our unique wonder, as part of a vast whole which finds itself embraced in a mystery. You know, religion doesn’t just offer rules (and, when it does, they’re meant to be for human flourishing – like ‘do not murder’, ‘love your enemies’ ‘don’t put your trust in money’ etc.) but it offers wisdom that needs our attention, insights that require us to extract the gold that lies within and practices designed to help us be more fully human. Of course, there will always be times when we need to use our reasoning faculties to critique what has been passed down especially as advances in science occur.

            Now that many of us have not been brought up with the language and rhythms of faith we’ll find that some practices of prayer and worship may not seem natural but we need to be open to the potential they have to help us reach beyond the heights and depths of life. Sometimes, of course, these have an instant appeal (or not) but, at their best, worship invites us into another world of encounter. Perhaps you’ve walked into a cathedral or shrine and just had that sense of ‘otherness’ which has made you stop and sit down for a moment and relish the silence (hopefully the place hasn’t been too noisy) and savour the smells of old stone, incense and candle wax. Perhaps, for a moment, you’ve had a sneaking feeling that there’s another dimension to life. You may think you’d given up on worship – hymn singing etc. – but we will always have a propensity to worship something greater than ourselves and that can open us to immense possibilities some of which, unfortunately, can be quite dangerous. Perhaps holy places should have a sign at their entrance saying: ‘Danger, God at work’.  There’s a wonderful story of a French priest, St Jean-Marie Vianney, who often found an old farmer sitting in church gazing at the altar on which was a beautiful tabernacle (a sort of box) containing the presence of Christ under the form of bread. And when, in the end, St Jean-Marie asked what he was doing there the old farmer simply said: “I look at Him and He looks at me and we tells each other that we love each other.” I must admit that when I first heard that story it reduced me to tears. It can still do that.

            So it’s sad that many have simply given up on sacred religion (… they might not realise how secular religion – capitalism, communism or nationalism has its teeth in them) and simply live on the surface of life, content to be carried by whatever currents we encounter or unaware of anything deeper than the glints and flashes reflected from what the eye can see. But there’s always the distant rumble of something greater, the feeling that we may have had the experience but missed the meaning. And when something shocking happens, something that jolts us out of our easy living, where do we turn to find the resources we need to cope?

Has religious faith any appeal?

            Now it goes without saying that Christianity, like any religion, isn’t exempt from corruption, misuse or a fundamentalist interpretation. Something which offers a way of life which can unite us with that which is most noble and creative in our humanity can be, and has been, abused and used as a means of control over others. Yet its transcendental appeal remains and it still tugs at the hearts of many, in-spite of a chorus of cynical disapproval. It’s certainly not cool to be a Christian, or even to talk about Jesus, God, the Saints, prayer (spirituality is OK), worship and so on. But Christianity has rarely been popular; as G. K. Chesterton wrote: ‘The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.’ (‘What’s Wrong with the World’, Part I, Chapter 5) Yet the heroic lives of saintly men and women continue to have an appeal; they are like beacons shining in the dark. Of course, sportsman and women and ‘celebrities’ can have an instant and greater glow about them but, have you noticed that their appeal is often passing? The appeal of true holiness, that which takes us out of ourselves so that we are living in the light of the Other, lasts and we can continue to savour it long after a holy one has disappeared from this earth.

Religion re-invented    

            What I find so fascinating is the way that so much of our religious past hasn’t actually disappeared but has been taken over – Advent calendars now offer us chocolates rather than insights into waiting for the birth of the man who can lead us to life in all its fullness; All Saints now offers fashionable clothes rather than being men and women clothed in holiness; Halloween isn’t a way of lovingly remembering the dead but a chance to go a bit mad. Incense is now a costly perfume to enhance our bodies rather than a mystical aroma which announces the presence of holiness, of God; and the ability to make your Confession is now rewarded with a TV fee rather than the ability to find absolution. And we’ve drained the great mysteries of the Faith – the birth of Christ and his death and resurrection – into times of excess governed by the gods of commerce, holding out nothing more than a plastic Santa or chocolate bunny. Can these satisfy our real needs, our deepest needs? Or are they part of a culture which has to make us feel we need ever more and more to make us happy and find … contentment … but is basically about making a profit for shareholders? Yet all the while, dimly maybe, behind it all and almost masked by the deafening clamour of commerce and entertainment can you hear that quiet voice asking: ‘What do you seek? What do you seek?’

           

What do we seek – what’s it all about?

            Have you ever thought of that?  Isn’t it such an important question and doesn’t it often get ignored – what do I seek in life? It’s another way of wondering ‘what’s it all about’? Does my life have any meaning or purpose or am I just a creature of evolution waiting to disappear off the face of the earth to be forgotten in a generation or so (if that)? Those aren’t the sort of questions that often get aired on TV or discussed in the pages of the tabloids (or, come to that, the broadsheets) but aren’t they important questions to ponder? But where do I go to explore them? And do I want to?

‘The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honourable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.’ (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

           

            It has been the task of religion to help us do that, to open us to those questions and explore the meaning and purpose of life. For some, that purpose is to be happy; no one, normally, wants to be un-happy. For others it might be to live with a close and loving family or find a satisfying career (which is OK until that comes to an end. Then what?) But, and here is the question again, is that all I seek? There's a famous affirmation by someone called St Augustine, who was born in what is now Algeria, north Africa in the 4th century AD which somehow seems to get at the nub of all this: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”

            Now as a general principle Christianity holds that we are made in the ‘image’ of God. In saying that it doesn’t mean that we’re all designed to look like an old man with a white beard but rather that we have about us, in the deepest part of our being, the potential for greatness, beauty and wonder. Of holiness. Just consider that for a moment. Close your eyes and, in a minute of silence, consider “I am made in the image of God – the image of divine beauty which is so much deeper than the eye can see. I have the potential to be – Godlike.”  Just be quiet and mull over that.

I am made for love and creativity;
I am part of the whole cosmos in which I have always existed.
I have something inside me that unites me with the past and present and future. I am part of – God.

           

Now it’s the task of religion to help each of us grow into this fullness of life but somethings got in the way and managed to palm us off with thinking all we need is a better car, bigger house or a win on the Lottery. That a make-over will, somehow, answer our needs. Tosh! Unless we’re re-making the heart of who we are anything else is like playing with the deckchairs on the Titanic.

"Love is a one-way street.  It always moves away from self in the direction of the other.  Love is the ultimate gift of our-selves to others.  When we stop giving we stop loving, when we stop loving we stop growing, and unless we grow we will never attain personal fulfilment; we will never open out to receive the life of God.  It is through love we encounter God.”  (Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Where there is Love, there is God, p. 26)

 Do I realise that I am made for love and to be love for others? As one of Jesus’ closest friends said: ‘let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love.’ (I John 4.7) So, might love be the way whereby sacred and secular are joined? Might it be that it is as we learn more about love that we are drawn out of ourselves to encounter the mystery of the other – and of the Other (the greatest Other)? Well, there’s nothing new in that reflection: "We become what we love and who we love shapes what we become” declared St Clare of Assisi way back in the 13th century, “If we love things, we become a thing. If we love nothing, we become nothing. Imitation is not a literal mimicking of Christ, rather it means becoming the image of the beloved, an image disclosed through transformation. This means we are to become vessels of God´s compassionate love for others." And St Thomas à Kempis, who lived just over a hundred years later, wrote in his famous book ‘The Imitation of Christ’: ‘Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing stronger or higher or wider; nothing is more pleasant, nothing fuller, and nothing better in heaven or on earth, for love is born of God and cannot rest except in God, Who is above all created things.’  So we come to the point, I hope, where believer and unbeliever have arrived at common ground and can agree with what that remarkable woman Julian of Norwich, the first of her gender to write in the English language, said in her book, ‘Revelations of Divine Love’: ‘Understand (this) well: love was his meaning. Who showed it to you? Love. What did he show you? Love. Why did he show it? For love. Hold yourself in this truth and you shall understand and know more in the same vein.’ (Ch.86)