TRACTS FOR OUR TIMES - Exploring Christian Faith

Simply written modern Tracts for our Times (some having informed the writing of The Mystery of Faith) which seek to do what it says on the label.  Links to YouTube versions, where available, are provided)

TITLES IN THE SERIES

1.       I Believe in God  (You Tube: https://youtu.be/F-DG9Z_MnDQ)

2.       I Believe in Jesus  (You Tube: https://youtu.be/1QRmD-IdO78)

3.       I Believe in the Holy Spirit (You Tube: https://youtu.be/T8OVQobYyqc)

4.       Deepening Prayer (YouTube: https://youtu.be/RS06Sro6bK8)

5.       The Ministry of Healing  (You Tube https://youtu.be/C3pPPsA7r2Q)

6.       The Sacrament of Confession  (You Tube: https://youtu.be/Je3BvuUr6qs)

7.       Praying for the Departed (You Tube: https://youtu.be/qM-gyh5ruR8)

8.       The Longest Journey – Preparing for Death

9.       Dealing with the death of one we love

10.     Is this a Catholic Church?

11.     Holy Baptism

12.     The Eucharist

13.     First Holy Communion

14.     Reservation of the Blessed Sacrament

15.     Let there be light

16.     A Selection of Prayers and Devotions

17.     The Use of the Body in Prayer

18.     The Use of Incense

19.     Mary and the Saints (You Tube: https://youtu.be/FR1v5oEjVbo)

20.     The Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary

21.     Lent, Holy Week and Easter

22.     Traditional Customs and Devotions

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For a fuller exploration:

The Mystery of Faith, Exploring Christian Belief

(This book is intended for individual and group use. It is divided into 8 sections with discussion questions at the end of each.  For those wishing to use it over 6 sessions, a suggested means to do this is available from jff2209@yahoo.com  Please also email for a copy of any of the leaflets shown above)

INTERCESSION

One of the most difficult questions to answer concerns the way prayer for the well-being of another often appears unanswered. A spouse might pray that their partner doesn’t die or a parent that their child be healed – after all, didn’t Jesus say: ‘I will do anything you ask in my name.’ (John 14.13). But the fact is that many do not find that Jesus does what they ask in prayers they offer. This is something people have grappled with for a long time and in The Mystery of Faith I gave some attention to that question in a number of places, including writing this in Chapter 11 (p.90):

‘Asking for something on behalf of another might be a natural response to a deeply felt need – ‘Oh God, let Mary get better!’ But if we’re going to ask someone for something, it’s best to be in a relationship with them. And when we bring our desires (supplications) to God, we need to trust that God will respond to them in the right way. Our heart might be overflowing with concerns, but we need to let go of them to God otherwise they can become overwhelming:

‘Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.’

Intercession isn’t about getting God to do what we want (no matter how good our intentions); it’s learning to open our hearts to God’s compassionate love, offering our concerns to Christ (because it’s he who prays for us) and then trusting him.’

*           *          *

Many Christians have been led to believe that prayer concerns this matter of asking for things but were never taught of the importance of the context in which intercession is offered – without a context, intercession would seem little more than a ‘penny-in-the-slot’ affair: you offer the prayer and get what you ask for. But, if they thought about it, I imagine few would accept that understanding. If every prayer ‘in Jesus’ name’ were answered exactly as offered there’d be chaos! John might pray for a rainy day and Jill for a dry one; Pedro for Barcelona to win and Johannes for Berlin; Yuri might even pray for success in robbing a bank! But what about that prayer which is offered for the healing of a loved one? Surely, if there is a loving God such a request would be granted? Again, to quote from The Mystery (Chapter 6, p.51):

‘What to make of suffering
But if God is good why should there be suffering? Couldn’t God have created a world where people didn’t hurt each other, where Nature was kindly? The scriptures, especially the psalms, reveal ways in which people have grappled with suffering, even blaming, but always in dialogue with, God (e.g. 22). The Book of Job grapples with this: there you’ll find lament, complaint, accusation – but trust that God will not, in the end, abandon Job utterly. We touched on that in Ch.2, recognising that suffering is part of the mystery of life and can reveal depths of compassion we might not otherwise experience. …

Our forebears, wanting to help us connect our suffering with his, and to show just how much Christ suffered, often showed his wounds in graphic detail. You may have seen the famous 16th century Isenheim Altarpiece by Matthias Grünewald which the monks, who cared for victims of plague, placed in their hospital. I remember being deeply moved on kneeling before an ancient statue of the dead Christ and noticing how his body showed the signs of beating, blood pouring from wounds in his head, hands and feet, and knew that all pain and suffering was to be found here. …

What did God experience as Jesus hung there? God-in-Christ must have known immense suffering in order to fully share in this world-changing moment. Apart from the physical, emotional and spiritual suffering he saw the love of friends and the anguish of his mother – such deep anguish that only a mother can have for her child. He saw the absence of insight in some, the superficiality of others and lack of interest in the onlookers. He saw it all, and more – he saw the depth of his own Heart. Fear was there yet, beneath that and stronger than that, he saw love, love now darkly crowned. And, for one brief moment, he cried in the words of Psalm 22, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27.46) … ‘

*          *          *

Of course, some will say – ‘but if God is good, why didn’t he make a world without suffering?’ Others, as I wrote: ‘seeing so much injustice, pain and suffering, (will) decide that if God does exist then ‘he’ must be very evil to have created such monstrous things. But recognising such complexity Christianity knows that ‘evil’ must co-exist with ‘good’; what appear to be random, sometimes chaotic processes are indispensable if we’re to have the universe we know (and we can’t know any other). If things had been even slightly different, life probably couldn’t have emerged from primordial chaos.’ (Chapter 2, p.15)

It’s a sad fact that, without suffering we would never know the depths of compassion of which the heart is capable, never know what love is able to express – Christianity alone holds this paradox of life and suffering being intrinsically entwined, which is why the Crucified is central to our faith. The question, ‘why doesn’t God heal the one I love’ has no other answer apart from the image of the Crucified; again, to quote from The Mystery of Faith: ‘Here is our God-made-Man hanging on the Cross. Not an all-mighty, ever-powerful Lord but someone naked and vulnerable. That is the uniqueness of our faith – the God in whom we believe, the maker of heaven and earth, who was prepared to know what it is to be human, to be weak, frightened and lonely, just as you and I can be. That’s why people have been drawn to and by this moment. It’s what’s inspired great artists, writers, musicians and poets who identify with Jesus hanging, dying, on the cross’ (Ch. 6, p.58).

Living in a culture where we expect pain and suffering to be cured and where pills and treatments can suppressor even eradicate pain, it’s almost inevitable that we feel suffering, especially ‘innocent’ suffering, doesn’t belong in life. Many expect God to act like the ultimate doctor – but, reading the bible, that’s never been the view of people of faith. When people are taught about intercession it needs to be set in the context of trusting in the ultimate purposes of a God who seeks the good of all Creation. ‘Thy kingdom come; thy will be done’ needs to be the context in which our intercessions are offered. So, long before teaching about this matter of praying-for-healing, we need to understand and believe that God, who suffered and died for us, continues to suffer with us and is leading us to at-one-ness with Him. The Sacred Heart of Christ still bleeds for us but would also enfold us in His mercy and compassion. As a recent theologian has said:

‘To ask for something in Jesus’ name does not mean that we invoke him verbally and then desire

whatever our turbulent, divided heart or our appetite, our wretched mania for everything and anything, happens to hanker for. No, asking in Jesus’ name means entering into him, living by him, being one with him in love and faith. If he is in us by faith, in love, in grace, in his Spirit, then our petition arises from the centre of our being, which is himself, and if all our petition and desire is gathered up and fused in him and his Spirit, then the Father hears us. Then our petition becomes simple and straightforward, harmonious, sober, and unpretentious.

'Then what St. Paul says in the letter to the Romans applies to us: we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us, praying the one prayer, “Abba! Father”! He longs for that from which the Spirit and Jesus himself have proceeded: he longs for God, he asks God for God, on our behalf he asks of God. Everything is included and contained in this prayer. … [If we pray in this way] we shall see that God really answers our prayer, in one way or another. Then we shall no longer feel this “one way or the other” is a feeble excuse offered by the pious, and the gospel, for unanswered prayer.

'No. Our prayer is answered, but precisely because it is prayer in Jesus’ name; and what we ultimately pray for is for the Lord to grow in our lives, to fill our existence with himself, to triumph, to gather into one our scattered life, the thousand and one desires of which we are made. … To pray in Jesus’ name is to have one’s prayer answered, to receive God and God’s blessing, and then, even amid tears, even in pain, even in indigence, even when it seems that one has still not been heard, the heart rests in God, and that is—while we are still here on pilgrimage, far from the Lord—perfect joy.' (Fr. Karl Rahner SJ)

PANDEMIC RESOURCES

During this pandemic there have been many suggestions as to how we might cope with the awful stresses and strains caused by lockdown.  Frequently the media report on a variety of physical exercises that can relieve gloom and despair; we are reminded that nature is a great healer and that time spent in the countryside, in woods or parks, can be very beneficial.  But few, if any, address the deeper needs that are often forgotten or even unrealised; the need of our inner being, the heart of who we are – that ‘immortal diamond’, interior castle – which needs our attention.  If we’re concerned with our physical well-being, why are we not equally concerned with the centre of our being which determines so much about who we are and how we cope with life.

The Church (of England) has so many resources it could offer people and I hope these simple Exercises might encourage others to share the hidden wisdom of our Faith which can be of such help.  If you have comments you would like to make or additions to the Exercises, do leave a message.

There are various ‘spiritual exercises’ we can undertake, and I want to draw your attention to  a few that can really help in this time which many find to be filled with anxiety and fear.  Firstly, of course, it’s important to acknowledge that we do have an ‘inner-being’!  That we’re more than skin, muscle, brain and bones.  That we have what’s been traditionally called a ‘soul’, our God-given identity, which lies in the heart of who we are.  And, because it is God-given, it is beloved.  We are loved in the deepest part of who we are and no one and nothing can destroy that love because it is of God – we don’t own it, control it or  have it at our disposal.  We need to ‘hear’ that, accept and own it – we are loved in the depth of our being, loved with Godly compassion, so it’s important that we practice sitting in that compassionate gaze which God turns towards us so that we can be enfolded in God’s compassionate love.

Christians realise that Jesus is all compassion, and any spiritual exercises are best practiced with him who – ‘though we cannot see him – is closer to us than our breath.  So, here are exercises you can practice – in the comfort of your chair or, if you have one, using a prayer-stool.  Decide how long you’ll spend – how long would you give to physical exercises?  Fifteen minutes?  Half an hour?  Here are some you might try – but remember, they need to become part of your life if they are to have any effect.

(NB.  You can download these from Google docs. by pressing the 'Download' button)

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BEFORE YOU BEGIN:  A preparation

EXERCISES

EXERCISE 1:  Learning to breathe

EXERCISE 2:  Becoming centred

EXERCISE 3:  Simple exercises

EXERCISE 4:  Natural exercises

EXERCISE 5:  Words of life

EXERCISE 6:  Imagining the Word

EXERCISE 7:  Relishing Life

EXERCISE 8:  At the centre of our being

EXERCISE 9:  The music of the heart

JUST THINK ABOUT

REFLECTION 1:  PSYCHOMACHIA - psycho what?!

REFLECTION 2:  INSHALLAH - as God wills

REFLECTION 3:  CHRISTMAS IS COMING - without the kids?

REFLECTION 4:  LOCKDOWN AND LONELINESS

REFLECTION 5:  LIVING WITH THANKSGIVING

REFLECTION 6:  COPING WITH FEAR

REFLECTION 7:  THE ONLINE 'JESUIT GUIDE' - to the pandemic if not everything ..

REFLECTION 8:  DEPRESSION, DESOLATION AND DARKNESS

REFLECTION 9:  FULLY HUMAN

REFLECTION 10:  CONTEMPLATION IN A TIME OF PANDEMIC

A BOOK: The Mystery of Faith which is introduced here contains helpful information about ... Faith.

If you would like to be advised when other Exercises or Reflections are added, please send an email to: jff2209(at)yahoo.com requesting to be kept in contact.

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John-Francis Friendship TSSF
November 2020

PANDEMIC EXERCISES

THIS POST HAS NOW MOVED TO:

https://francisjon.blogspot.com/2020/11/pandemic-resources.html

John-Francis Friendship TSSF
November 2020

PRIESTLY PONDERING'S (1) - Being beneath the role

This is also available via YouTube:  https://youtu.be/Mk6GeJHV64g

In 2018 I wrote Enfolded in Christ: the inner life of a priest, and it’s been suggested I might offer some further thoughts arising from that, or from my second: The Mystery of Faith: Exploring Christian belief.  So, as we’re in a world-wide crisis at present, I thought I’d go back to something I wrote in chapter nine of ‘Enfolded’ because I think it speaks into something a number of priests might be experiencing.  It’s headed: Beneath the Role and is part of a section on ‘Being in Christ’:

‘While (the) desire for union with Christ is at the heart of our (priestly) calling, I’ve noticed, in directing clergy, that many find it easier to talk about roles and responsibilities. Although ministry may form the expression of our vocation, it’s not its essence, for that can only be found as ‘Cor ad cor loquitur’ – heart speaks to heart.  Vocation concerns the heart of being which our actions express. The demands of ministry can overbalance the call to intimacy and relationship just as doing can easily replace being in our desire for meaning. And while this isn’t unique to priesthood, unless our vocation is rooted in the desire for union with Christ, sooner or later it will wither – and may die.’

Now I’m not suggesting that your spiritual life has died or even withered, but I’ve noticed the way the present coronavirus crisis is causing some clergy to feel a bit lost – or depressed.  Many of the norms which accompany ministry have gone: ‘no church and no congregation’ is causing them to wonder what they’re meant to be doing.  We look at what the media focuses on – doctors and nurses caring for the sick and dying, food banks providing help for those in poverty and people hard at work raising funds for charities and we can easily begin to feel inadequate, or even guilty.  Many people have begun living in ‘virtual reality’ offering online parties and games, and some clergy are turning to the internet to broadcast services.  And whilst much of what’s appearing is helpful, I wonder – I just wonder – if we might be missing something…  If every crisis provides an opportunity, what might this one offer?  What might God be saying to us through it?

One of the reasons, as I mentioned, for writing Enfolded was because I sensed that many clergy live out of their role, something which can easily begin to take over from our vocation.   Many have become very proficient in what they do; they work hard, and their ministry is greatly valued.  But now much of that role seems to have been side-lined.  A century or so ago it was clergy and religious who nursed the sick – Florence Nightingale turned to the emerging Anglican Religious Orders to work in the Crimea, and priests cared for victims of cholera in the slums of 19^th cent. cities, gaining for them the name, ‘Father’.  Now it can feel as if we’re not needed. Yet, many are doing valiant, if hidden, work supporting congregations, helping organise Food Banks and so on.  But the fact that the Archbishops have ‘banned’ clergy from entering their churches to live-stream liturgies feels as if it’s undermined something of great importance and has hit many hard.

I’m one of those who no longer have a parish, or any ‘official’ ministry, and recall the way I, like others, suddenly felt an utter sense of lostness when that came to an end.  My identity as a parish priest had gone, and I suddenly had no idea what meaning life had for me. T. S. Eliot words, in his Four Quartets, captures something of the feeling I had:

‘ … as, when an underground train, in the tube, 
stops too long between stations

And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence

And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deeper

Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about … ‘ (East Coker, III)

That, of course, can be a feeling anyone can have when their job comes to an end – as has happened to thousands of people as a result of the ‘lockdown’ we’re going through.  So, my first reflection is that priests may be sharing the same feelings as many of their parishioners: this loss means we can identify with millions of others.  Like Christ, some of us have suddenly descended into the experience of many – have entered a wilderness that seems endless.  Into a darkness that can be depressive.

Now one of the things I notice about the account of Christ in the Desert is that the first Temptation which came his way was to turn stones into bread; and I then hear his response: “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matt. 4.4).  What might that be saying to the noble attempts of many to offer ‘virtual’ liturgies replicating, as best we can, what happens in church?  If every crisis offers opportunities, what might this crisis offer those who have a responsibility to nurture the spiritual lives of people?  Those who stand at the threshold of heaven?  Of course, many find satisfaction through the familiar and some, consequently, will encounter ‘church’ via the internet for the first time.  But are we missing something? 

In what we call the ‘spiritual life’ there’s a clear correlation between the wilderness and the monastic cell.  You probably know that saying of the 4^th cent. Desert Father, Abba Moses: “Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.”  In a world where many feel lost, might the most important thing we have to share be that simple piece of teaching?  If you’re finding life difficult at present, don’t go looking for distractions – virtual games and sports, chat rooms and so on.  Simply stay in that place of emptiness and listen to what it might teach you – you may never have another opportunity to learn what this solitude, this enforced ‘retreat’ might offer.  And that, of course, means clergy need to do just that.  As Eliot said:

                            ‘I said to my soul, be still, 
                            and let the darkness come upon you

                            Which shall be the darkness of God.’ (East Coker, III)

That darkness, of course, can feel very dark – a darkness which can feel hellish.  And I’m reminded that Christ entered that darkness on Holy Saturday with the light of the Resurrection – and I want to consider that on another occasion because it is of such importance, yet often ignored.  For now, let’s consider the difference between that feeling of loneliness and the awareness of being alone.  Feeling lonely is about isolation, whereas being alone concerns realising in in-depth at-one-ness with all things.  Just listen to these words of Mother Mary Clare of the Sisters of the Love of God at Fairacres from their pamphlet, Aloneness Not Loneliness:

‘Like the solitary sailor, we deliberately choose our aloneness as part of a personal quest.  We are people engaged on a search.  It is always a search for God, but it is also a quest that brings us to a place of exposure to a deep, heart-searching, listening awareness of the fundamental, crying need of the world.  This is precisely the monk’s or nun’s chief service to humanity.  In aloneness we learn to share in a basic way in the emptiness and lostness that people today often know but also often tried to block out and ignore. … It is essential that we realise the intensely positive use and value of being alone and trying to stop being frightened at the very negative reaction or feeling lonely.’  (Fairacres Pubs. FP002)

I wonder if one of the most important things clergy can do at this time – at any time – is not only to be open to and aware of that basic emptiness and lost-ness, but to encourage people not to run from that primary human condition, the calling to and of God deep within their deepest self – the soul.  Rather than offering people religious ‘distractions’ isn’t one of our primary tasks to enable people to realise they’re called to enter the depths of their being?  Instead of just streaming services, might we also address this primary experience which so many are having but can’t make sense of or seek to avoid – aloneness?  Only the church can do that – the media have no understanding of the deeper reaches of our common humanity.  Doesn’t this crisis offer an opportunity – hopefully, one that won’t be repeated for a long time, but one we need to grasp – the opportunity to encounter ourselves in a creative way.  And to encounter God.   

So, use this time to create a fresh rhythm of prayer.  Make sure you’re having a day offline from time to time – now’s a wonderful opportunity to take an at-home Quiet Day where you can focus on prayer and meditation, a solitary walk and a little light reading. And, if you haven’t already, make sure the Blessed Sacrament is kept in a worthy place at home, a place you can ‘visit’ each day where you can be still before the Lord.  Let’s discover what this time has to offer so we can share with others from our experience.

Do you remember the way, also in 2018, that a group of boys became trapped in a cave system in Thailand for over a fortnight?  Their leader, a former Buddhist monk, led them in various meditation practices which helped them cope with their enforced isolation and kept them sane.  It’s clear many people at present are experiencing great anxiety, and whilst Christian meditation is primarily concerned with opening the eye of the heart to God, it has also been shown to be of great help in addressing anxiety and stress which can lead to depression.  I realise meditation might be difficult if you sense you’re extraverted – you may be finding the loss of human interaction really painful.  But, maybe, this is an opportunity to give attention to your inner life – and to teach others the importance of these practices.  

In a society which judges the church by what it can be seen to do, its actions, might God be offering us an opportunity to reach out to others from the hidden wisdom of our tradition – of the contemplative way?  Might this be a time when we remind the world it has a forgotten soul which needs nurturing?  Isn’t that the meaning behind our role?  Rather than this being a time when the church hardly seems needed, maybe it’s a time when we’re needed even more – we just need to realise what we have and find ways of sharing it with others. 

I said to my soul be still, and wait without hope

For hope would be hope for the wrong thing;

wait without love

For love would be love of the wrong thing;

there is yet faith

But the faith and the love and the hope 
       are all in the waiting.

Wait without thought, 
       for you are not ready for thought:

So the darkness shall be the light, 
       and the stillness the dancing.  (East Coker III)

John-Francis Friendship

April 17^th, 2020

PRAYER FOR VOCATIONS TO RELIGIOUS LIFE

In 2018 the Archbishop of Canterbury wrote, in connection with the founding of the new Community of St Anselm at Lambeth Palace: ‘Unless swift action was taken, some feared that the religious life could vanish from the Church of England for ever.’ 

The Roman Catholic Church makes it clear that prayer for vocations to the Religious Life is central to Vocations Sunday, which is observed on the 4^th Sunday in Easter, Good Shepherd Sunday:  ‘The purpose of the World Day of Prayer for Vocations is to publicly fulfil the Lord's instruction to, "Pray the Lord of the harvest to send laborers into his harvest" (Mt 9:38; Lk 10:2). As a climax to a prayer that is continually offered throughout the Church, it affirms the primacy of faith and grace in all that concerns vocations to the priesthood and to the consecrated life.  While appreciating all vocations, the Church concentrates its attention this day on vocations to the ordained ministries (priesthood and diaconate), to the Religious life in all its forms (male and female, contemplative and apostolic), to societies of apostolic life, to secular institutes in their diversity of services and membership, and to the missionary life, in the particular sense of mission "ad gentes".’  (United States Conference of Catholic Bishops)

Excellent resources can be found here:

https://www.worlddayofprayerforvocations.com/

and here:

https://www.dioceseofnorwich.org/application/files/2214/9192/5727/Vocations-Sunday-Resources-Pack.pdf

Vocation was the subject of the sermon at the church I attended on Easter 4 and, quite rightly, the preacher made the point that vocation isn’t limited to ordained ministry.  Whilst I agree it was lamentably noticeable that no mention was made of a calling to Religious Life, and I expect that was the same elsewhere.

It does not appear that such prayer receives any prominence in the Church of England and I wonder why this is so?  If the Archbishop’s statement is taken seriously, then prayer for vocations to Religious Life is urgent and should be at the heart of what we pray for each year. 

At one time there was a Prayer for Vocations to Religious Life, but I cannot find a copy.  Do you know of such a Prayer?

‘RELIGION IS JUST A CRUTCH…’

It’s not uncommon for someone objecting to their partner going to church or attending Mass or say that those who do so are looking for a ‘crutch’ or that religion is a way of avoiding relationships.  It can be very painful to hear that said and can cause real difficulties for anyone who wants to grow in their faith and begins to sense that, to do so, they need the company of others. 

Like the Judaism from which it emerged, Christianity isn’t a solitary religion.  As with many other animals we’re designed to be relational beings – we live in societies; grow through relationships and discover who we are as we encounter others.  But like other religions Christianity goes further, it points out that in order to be fully human we need to be in relationship with something greater than ourselves – with God.  Our need to ‘go to church’ is an aspect of the realisation that, in order to grow, we desire to be with others as they seek God – is that a ‘crutch’?  If it is, then it’s one most of us need, for in order to be myself I need to be in relationship with you, or as one philosopher maintained ¹ – every ‘I’ needs a ‘Thou’ in order to find meaning.  We need to be in ever-deepening relationship.

Some use the church, the People of God, as a means of developing those meaningful relationships when, for good reasons, no other way seems possible and Christians are found to be welcoming, accepting and inclusive.  Sadly, a few look to certain churches to support their prejudices.  Some partners might feel ‘church’ is a threat to their relationship and there are, indeed, those who become too involved and distant from their partner.  But in a similar way, friendships, even hobbies, can either be nurturing of a relationship – we enjoy the company of friends and need to have our own independently of partners – or they can become an escape. 

I need a crutch

I don’t mind admitting that I need a crutch.  I know I’m broken, not whole – are any of us?  I know I need people to help me become the person I’m meant to be; need people who love me, people who will encourage and enable me to grow.   In so many ways life wounds all of us and we need those who will help us heal and become whole.  No one is perfect.  Many are prepared to accept that they are enslaved and need a rescuer – a saviour, a Power greater than themselves to whom they can turn for help in this matter of becoming whole and growing into the fullness of our potential.  Christianity says that we have a godly identity that needs nurturing so we can grow beyond the limits of the self.

In all this the individual seeker, wanting to grow in their faith, beginning to sense that they need to do so in company with others, will need to be sensitive to the feelings of their partner, making sure that they are giving enough ‘quality time’ to them.  For growth in relationship with the God we have not seen is tested by our relationship with those amongst whom we live (1 John 4.20f). 

Growing beyond the church

But this need to be part of the church is only one step along the way and we are not to get stuck.  The point of ‘church’ is not, in the end, to provide friends but to belong to a community of those on a journey into God.  The journey we’re called to make can be hard to undertake alone and we can cease exploring and settle down into a comfortable place and take the eye of our heart off the goal.  ‘Church’ is where we gather to encounter the mystery of God, the Body of Christ on earth – and in heaven.  To be baptised into that Body is to be one with saints and angels ‘standing around the throne of God’. 

Perhaps we might give attention to going to Mass rather than ‘going to church’ – going to that celebration in which we seek to be open to the activity of God in word, sacrament and through the body of believers both seen and unseen.  As with the first Christians, we’re called into relationship with God in Christ through attending the Eucharist – and then living out of that relationship and seeking to deepen it through our personal daily prayer, acts of loving kindness, listening to God’s constant call that our heart might reflect His – and deepening our love for those to whom we are committed.

Imprisoned but not alone

There will always be those who, for whatever reason, cannot ‘go to church’.  The housebound through sickness or age; those unable to feel they can ‘belong’; those denied the opportunity because of their circumstances or because they are forbidden.  And there will be those imprisoned.  Back in the 16^th century the great Carmelite mystic, S. John of the Cross ², was cast into a tiny prison cell by his brothers because they objected to the reforms he wanted to make to their Order.  He spent eight months in appalling conditions, yet this was the means for him to compose some of the greatest mystical poetry.  Instead of making him bitter and angry the very privations he experienced were the means for him to escape by way of love.  Drawing on the biblical Song of Songs his heart sang in the darkness as he sought the One he loved:

                          Upon a gloomy night,

                                    With all my cares to loving ardours flushed,

                                    (O venture of delight!)

                                    With nobody in sight

                                    I went abroad when all my house was hushed. ³

Even when denied the company of others, he found a way of reading the Divine Office and, in the darkness, meditating on the love of God so that his heart was open to the movement of the Spirit and he was united with his beloved.  Today we have Apps to help us! ⁴

We must pray for our partners, that they will also be open to God; show that our faith is deepening our love for them, and be prepared to explain that ‘going to church’ helps us develop our desire to be more fully human – more fully the person I am meant to be – and then pray that our hearts might be open to that Love which gives life to the world.

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¹  “That you need God more than anything, you know at all times in your heart. But don’t you know also that God needs you—in the fullness of his eternity, you? How would man exist if God did not need him, and how would you exist? You need God in order to be, and God needs you—for that which is the meaning of your life.”  (Martin Buber, I and Thou, Simon and Schustner, 2000)

²  A sketch of Christ, made by St John of the Cross, was shown to Salvador Dali in 1949 moving him to paint his great work Christ of St John of the Cross.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfN67C9XLCM

³    Roy Campbell, Poems of St John of the Cross, The Harvill Press Ltd., 1951

⁴ Pray as You Go; https://pray-as-you-go.org/; Laudate, Prayers, Daily Readings and Various Devotions: https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/laudate-1-catholic-app/id499428207?mt=8

THE CLOUD OF UNKNOWING – summary of the teaching

Lift up your heart with humble love; and mean God and not what you can get out of him. [3]

Hate to think of anything but God himself so that nothing occupies your mind or will but God himself. [3]

Try to forget all created things. Let them go and pay no attention to them.  Do not give up but work away. [3]

When you begin you find only darkness and a cloud of unknowing.  Reconcile yourself to wait in the darkness as long as necessary after him who you love. [3]

Strike that thick cloud of unknowing with the sharp dart of longing love, and on no account think of giving up.  [6]

He may well be loved but not thought. By love he may be caught and held, but by thought never. [6]

You are to reach out with a naked intention directed towards God and him alone.  Mean God who created you, and bought you, and graciously called you to this state of life. [7]

Let some such word as ‘God’ or ‘love’ or some other word given to you, be fixed to your heart so that it is always there, come what may. It will be your shield and spear in peace and war alike.  [7]

If God leads you to certain words my advice is not to let them go, that is, if you are using words at all in your prayer. [7]

If any thought should intrude itself in the darkness, asking what you are seeking, and what you are wanting, answer that it is God that you want: ‘Him I covet, him I seek, and him alone.’ [7]

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Just as this cloud of unknowing is, as it were, above you and between you and God, so you must put a cloud of forgetting between you and all creation. Everything must be hidden beneath this cloud of forgetting.  Indeed, if wed may say so reverently, when we are engaged in this work it profits little or nothing to think of even God’s kindness or worth, or of our Lady, or pf the saints and angels, or of the joys of heaven.  It may be good sometimes to think particularly of God’s kindness and worth, yet in the work before us it must be put down and covered with the cloud of forgetting. [5]

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When you have done all, you can to make the proper amendments laid down by Holy Church, then get to work quick sharp! [31]

If memories of your past actions keep coming between you and God, or any new thought or sinful impulse, you are resolutely to step over them because of your deep love for God.  Try to cover then with the thick cloud of forgetting.  And if it is really hard work you can use every dodge, scheme and spiritual stratagem you can find to put them away.  Do everything you can to act as if you did not know that these thoughts were strongly pushing in between you and God.  Try to look over their shoulders, seeking something else – which is God, shrouded in the cloud of unknowing. [31]

(freely translated by Fr. Robert Llewellyn form the Clifton Wolters translation)

THE PHYSICALITY OF PRAYER: Bp. Rowan Williams

The Christianity I was originally formed in was not very ritual-minded: it was both intellectually alert and emotionally intense – the best of a style of Welsh Nonconformity now almost extinct – but tended to look down on physical expression of belief (other than singing, which I suspect was regarded as not really physical). Only when the family joined the Anglican Church when I was in my early teens, after we’d moved to another town, did I discover a sense of worship as a physical art, involving gesture, movement and colour. I still have a vivid memory of my first experience of a solemn Mass with procession at Easter, when I was, I suppose, about 12 – the awareness of a deliberate strategy of involving the senses at many levels.

The mild High Church atmosphere of those years was, for me, an environment that made strong imaginative and emotional sense, and indeed is still the kind of setting where I feel most instinctively at home, rather than in more simply word-oriented styles, or in the heated atmosphere of “charismatic” worship, repetitive song and unstructured prayer – although I’ve learned to be nourished by that, too, in many circumstances. But the ritual that is most significant for me apart from the routines of public worship and the daily recitation of the fixed words of morning and evening prayer owes more to non-Anglican sources.

Readers of Salinger’s Franny and Zooey will recall the somewhat unexpected appearance there of an account of the traditional Greek and Russian discipline of meditative repetition of the “Jesus Prayer” (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner”). Practically every Eastern Orthodox writer on prayer will describe this, and many in the tradition also describe some of the physical disciplines that may be used to support it – being aware of your breathing, sitting in a certain way, focusing attention on your chest: “bringing the mind into the heart”, as the books characterise it.

The interest in uniting words with posture and breath is, of course, typical of non-Christian practices also; and over the years increasing exposure to and engagement with the Buddhist world in particular has made me aware of practices not unlike the “Jesus Prayer” and introduced me to disciplines that further enforce the stillness and physical focus that the prayer entails. Walking meditation, pacing very slowly and co-ordinating each step with an out-breath, is something I have found increasingly important as a preparation for a longer time of silence.

So: the regular ritual to begin the day when I’m in the house is a matter of an early rise and a brief walking meditation or sometimes a few slow prostrations, before squatting for 30 or 40 minutes (a low stool to support the thighs and reduce the weight on the lower legs) with the “Jesus Prayer”: repeating (usually silently) the words as I breathe out, leaving a moment between repetitions to notice the beating of the heart, which will slow down steadily over the period.

The prayer isn’t any kind of magical invo­cation or auto-suggestion – simply a vehicle to detach you slowly from distracted, wandering images and thoughts. These will happen, but you simply go on repeating the words and gently bringing attention back to them. If it is proceeding as it should, there is something like an indistinct picture or sensation of the inside of the body as a sort of hollow, a cave, in which breath comes and goes, with an underlying pulse. If you want to speak theologically about it, it’s a time when you are aware of your body as simply a place where life happens and where, therefore, God “happens”: a life lived in you.

So the day begins with a physically concrete and specific reminder that your own individual existence is breathed through by a life that isn’t your possession; and at moments of tension or anxiety during the day, deliberately breathing in and out a few times with the words of the prayer in mind connects you with this life that isn’t yours, immersing the anxiety and dispersing the tension – even if it doesn’t simply take away pain or doubt, solve problems or create some kind of spiritual bliss. The point is just to be connected again.

The mature practitioner (not me) will discover a steady clarity in the vision of self and world, and, in “advanced” states, an awareness of unbroken inner light, with the strong sense of an action going on within that is quite independent of your individual will – the prayer “praying itself”, not just human words but a connection between God transcendent and God present and within. Ritual anchors, ritual aligns, harmonises, relates. And what happens in the “Jesus Prayer” is just the way an individual can make real what is constantly going on in the larger-scale worship of the sacraments. The pity is that a lot of western Christianity these days finds all this increasingly alien. But I don’t think any one of us can begin to discover again what religion might mean unless we are prepared to expose ourselves to new ways of being in our bodies. But that’s a long story. 

(New Statesman: 8th July 2014)