A Deeper Side

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called, Confessions, defender of the faith, fundamental rigorism, loved, Peace, relationship with God, St. Augustine, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today we speak of St. Augustine, the son of St. Monica for whose conversion she spent her life praying. (See yesterday’s post) Sometimes conversion is such a turnaround that one can only call the about-face a “fierce” change. (See www.franciscanmedia.org – saint of the day) Augustine became a rigorous defender of the faith at a time of decadence which gave him a reputation for “fundamental rigorism.” Such was my impression in my younger days. I was surprised somewhat later to find a more gentle, beautifully expressed side of the man as he wrote of his relationship with God. Here is my favorite example of such a deep and meaningful encounter.

Late have I loved you, Beauty so ancient yet new; late have I loved you. Lo, you were within, but I outside, seeking there for you, and upon the shapely things you have made I rushed headlong, I, misshapen. You were with me but I was not with you. They held me back far from you, those things which would have no being were they not in you. You called, shouted, broke through my deafness; you flared, blazed, banished my blindness; you lavished your fragrance, I gasped, and now I pant for you; I tasted you, now I hunger and thirst; you touched me, and now I burn for your peace. (Confessions, x.27)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Slow Work

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Letters to a Young Poet, mothers, patience, perseverance, prayer, Rainer Maria Rilke, St. Augustine, St. Monica, Teilhard de Chardin, the slow work of God, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Often a saint’s memorial in the Church calendar brings lots of diverse thoughts to mind. Today Christianity celebrates the feast of St. Monica whose son, St. Augustine of Hippo, had much more overt influence on Church practice than she did. Monica has special remembrance, however, in the lives of Christian mothers who trust God to hear their prayers for their children. Monica is remembered for her perseverance in prayer and thereby credited in large part with the conversion of her son. Clearly, the story of their lives is more complex than that and other influences on Augustine (e.g. St Ambrose) had a part to play. Nevertheless, Monica has been a friend of mothers down through the ages.

Today, in considering the steadfast care (sometimes seen as somewhat over-enthusiastic) of Monica for her son, I think once again of the words of Teilhard de Chardin who counseled trust in the slow work of God. Monica prayed tirelessly for Augustine’s conversion to a good, faith-filled life and was rewarded just before she died with his baptism as a Christian. Similarly, Rainer Maria Rilke wrote in his Letters to a Young Poet about the need to “be patient with all that is unsolved in your life…” and “live the questions now.” Monica certainly needed that kind of advice!

Then there are the two children’s songs that help me by making me smile and hold things more lightly when I think I will never come to the end of a task that seems monumental – like clearing clutter or finishing a book I need to read. When those tasks get in the way of seeing the beauty of life I know I can sing: Inchworm, inchworm, measuring the marigolds, seems to me you’d stop and see how beautiful they are…Or maybe even better: Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make this garden grow…

 

 

 

 

 

Starting Again

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A Way Without Words, divine, focus, forced union, grace, improve, interior silence, Marsha Sinetar, regular life, spiritual life, St. Augustine, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Every time there is a holiday or some out-of-the-ordinary event, I find myself taking a deep breath at its conclusion and feel as if new vistas are opening to which attention ought to be given. It’s not as radical as it seems – as in “Whew! That’s over! Now what?” – but rather as if there was something holding the calendar back until it was completed and now “regular life” is resuming for awhile. I felt that way this morning as I moved from the sound of Fourth of July fireworks while drifting off to sleep last night to the familiar sounds of birdsong awakening me and bringing the plan for the day into focus.

I’m not sure that this next is a seamless “fit” with the above paragraph but I read something this morning that was a reminder to be about growth in the spiritual life, specifically about how it is or is not “achieved.” It caught my attention and I felt it wanting to be shared.

As we progress, we realize that forced union with the divine is impossible and that we will not reach enlightenment by checking off a lengthy “to do” list. We do not scrub, wash and launder our way into God’s presence in order to merit transformation. We are hindered by too much concern to “improve,” or to have this or that experience…

As we become receptive to our own interior silence and to the nuances and gifts of grace, we sense that growth into God is inevitable and that this union has always existed. St. Augustine, speaking to God, said, “You were with me, and I was not with you.” Nor would we desire [God] if we were not wanted first. (A Way Without Words by Marsha Sinetar, p. 65)

 

 

 

 

 

Ancient Yet Ever New

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commandment, hunger, John, love, Peace, searching, St. Augustine, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thirst, touched

All the readings are familiar today. That sometimes makes it more difficult for me to find a new “spin” that will be worthy of attention. I think it’s fair to say that one of the most recognizable utterances of Jesus is today’s gospel verse: I give you a new commandment: love one another as I have loved you. (JN 13:34) As is often the case, however, it was one word that caught my eye, the word new. People have been hearing or reading and preaching about that line for centuries; some of us have known it since early childhood. I thought this morning that perhaps we come to know it daily in a different way according to the people and experiences that bump up against our own as we proceed along our spiritual path. One of the best examples of this truth for me is from St. Augustine, whose passionate words on this topic never get old.

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me and now I burn for your peace. (The Confessions of St. Augustine)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wait For It…

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children of God, church, Gospel of Thomas, Luke, Pope Francis, Romans, something is happening, spirituality, St. Augustine, St. Paul, suffering, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton

In conversations lately about spirituality or Church, I have often heard – and occasionally said myself, “It feels like something is happening…” That’s a rather bland statement that is generally followed, however, by examples of an energy that cannot be easily explained but is felt as a growing thing – where people are gathering to discuss the newly recognized convergences of science and spirituality or a discovery of something Thomas Merton said 50 years ago that now makes sense or an exploration of the Gospel of Thomas…It is the same hopeful sense that St. Augustine had almost 2,000 years ago, that God is closer to us than we are to ourselves. Wanting to participate in that nearness of God is likely what drew millions of people to the streets to see Pope Francis pass by in Washington, DC and New York City and Philadelphia. It touched people in the Congress, the United Nations Assembly and the families chosen to represent us in Philadelphia. It brought tears to the eyes of people watching those events on television as surely as if the Pope were in their living rooms. Clearly we want more of God in our lives and in our world.

This is the same arising that I think Paul knew when he said to the Romans and to us this morning,  “I consider the sufferings of the present time are as nothing compared to the glory to be revealed for us. For creation waits with eager expectation for the revelation of the children of God.” (ROM 8:18-25) I am disappointed in that text which used to say that “all of creation stands on tiptoe to see the children of God coming into their own.” Jesus knew it could happen – this bursting forth of the Kingdom of God in the world – when he compared it to a mustard seed or yeast, small and imperceptible at first but in the end the largest of all the trees or the impetus for the dough to rise to full capacity. (LK 13:18-21) Where are we now? How close to the revelation of God in our time? What are we doing to “bring it on?” Have we forgotten how to be so eager as to stand on tiptoe to see it revealed?

Passion for God

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breathing in God, called, Confessions, deafness, God is within me, hunger, passion for God, Peace, St. Augustine, St. Monica, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thirst

Having considered yesterday the life of St. Monica, today we meet her son. “Whether acclaimed or condemned in our day for what can be seen as his ‘fundamental rigorism’ against the decadence of his own time” (http://www.americancatholic.org), Augustine’s passion for God cannot be denied. In perhaps his most famous writing, Confessions, his address to God is unsurpassed in depth of feeling and worthy of our reflection today.

Late have I loved You, O Beauty so ancient yet ever new! Late have I loved You. You were within me and I outside…You were with me but I was not with You. Things held me far from You – things which, if they were not in You, were not at all…You called and shouted and burst my deafness. You breathed and I drew in breath – now I pant for You. I tasted and now I hunger and thirst for You. You touched me and now I burn for Your peace.

Rest Much?

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24-7, deep breath, grand silence, Jesus, Mark, Pharisees, rest, Sabbath, silence, St. Augustine, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

In my early days of religious life, we didn’t talk much. Occasionally at meals, each evening for the hour after dinner, as necessary in our college classes…but silence was the order of the day, so that we could be “recollected” – always mindful of God. There were degrees of silence as well. During the nine o’clock hour at night we observed “strict silence” as we were preparing for bed and from 10:00PM to morning prayers we entered into the “Grand Silence” which was total and profound, where God was our only companion. Even then, however, should there be an emergency (a real and serious emergency like the “call an ambulance” type) we were dispensed from what seemed the most hard and fast rule.

The gospel for this morning (MK 2:23-28) calls for that same kind of discernment. One of the laws of the Sabbath, the day of the week commemorating God’s rest after the work of creating, was a proscription against picking grain on that day. Obviously the point was to refrain from usual labor for one day a week. But the Pharisees, ever the sticklers for the rules, remonstrated with Jesus who, it seemed to them, never paid attention. The response could have been a simple “They were hungry” but Jesus gave a broader lesson in his explanation. “The Sabbath,” he said, “was made for [man], not [man] for the Sabbath.” That sounds like the rationale for “breaking grand silence” and is clearly logical.

My sense of what has happened over these many years, however, in our culture where stores are open “24-7” and workplaces sustain three shifts of eight hours, is a gradual loss of silence and the meaning of Sabbath. On many days I meet people in whom I experience a growing hunger for some sort of return. Where might we find the silence that we seek – and when? Church or temple is a start…but turning inward, taking a deep breath or two that encompasses the vast reaches of our consciousness, might be just the thing to begin again to find God in the silence, not just on one day of the week but always. “God is closer to us than we are to ourselves,” St. Augustine said. Why not close our eyes and rest in that presence?

…and the Complex Son!

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dignity, relationship with God, responsibility, St. Augustine, St. Monica, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Yesterday I spoke of St. Monica, whose steadfast attention and prayer is generally seen as the impetus for the conversion of her son who became St. Augustine. A brilliant character, Augustine did everything with rigor – wild living no less than the intensity of religious fundamentalism after his conversion. One commentator speaks of him this way: “Augustine is still acclaimed and condemned in our day. He is a prophet for today, trumpeting the need to scrap escapisms and stand face-to-face with personal responsibility and dignity.”

Wherever one stands – whether critic or supporter of Augustine’s teaching – it must be acknowledged that in his writings that speak of his relationship with God, his sincerity and love are profound. Here is my favorite:

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new; late have I loved you! You were within me and I outside…You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and now I burn for your peace.