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blind faith, concentration, God's will, Helen Daly, perfect love, seek God, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton, tranquility, trust in God, wisdom seekers, wisdom way
Today I am up before even a hint of sunrise, getting ready to travel again to New Hampshire just for today to celebrate the life of Helen Daly, friend and benefactor. Helen, her friends agree, died much too early but gifted the world with a legacy of wisdom. The Sophia Center is just one recipient of grants over the past six years that have seen the creation and continuance of programs for “Wisdom Seekers” far and wide. Before her passing from this world, I was blessed by her light over six years and since I have continued to sense that light that cheers us on in the work we have been blessed to share with others. I invite you who read this blog to give thanks today for Helen and other generous people everywhere who understand the importance of God’s call to seek and serve in the Wisdom Way.
Here is what Thomas Merton has to say about wise people like Helen.
This is what it means to seek God perfectly: To have a will that is always ready to fold back within itself and draw all the powers of the soul down from its deepest center to rest in silent expectancy for the coming of God. Poised in tranquil and effortless concentration upon the point of my dependence on God, to gather all that I am, and have all that I can possibly suffer or do or be, and abandon them all to God in the resignation of a perfect love and blind faith and pure trust in God, to do God’s will.
It’s raining again. This week we have had a taste of the destruction that has been rare for us, caused by soaking rains and flash-flooding. It’s as if the earth cannot take any more pain. Having cried too long, her tears now overflow in a mud bath on the streets and structural damage to homes and other buildings near our two rivers and the many outlying creeks. Today the rain feels soft and my desire is to go outside and stand, then walk in it, to listen and accept what is happening, to be washed clean of all distress and the insidious doubt that can invade the soul at times like this.
There is much to say about St. Benedict, whose feast is today, known the world over as the man who brought monasticism to the western world. Although Benedict lived 1,500 years ago his influence is still felt and one might say is being proliferated more broadly than ever before because of a movement called “monasteries without walls.” Lay people who are interested in deepening their spiritual life often turn to The Rule of St. Benedict for guidance and a way to live his principles in secular society.
I believe that I understand at this moment what Thomas Merton wrote at dawn on a day a half-century ago about waking up. It is totally silent inside my house; everyone is sleeping still or again. (The coffee is made so someone was up before sunrise.) Outside is a different story. The mourning doves punctuate the conversation that is constant and loud – some would say cacophonous – among all the other birds large and small. And through it all the rooster reigns, splitting the silence with a voice that carries to the river and back again calling us all to wakefulness. “It is like the first morning of the world,” Merton writes, “when Adam, at the sweet voice of Wisdom, awoke from nonentity and knew her…” Only in silence, I think, is it possible to have such an experience. And so I will dress and go into the day, carrying with me the pure sounds of praise in the natural world, hoping to know the wakefulness that is available to me this day.
Here’s a little quote from Thomas Merton’s New Seeds of Contemplation that needs to be breathed out one clause at a time to give us a whole day of reflection. See where it takes you.
Yesterday I had one of those mornings when waking early turned into an amazing blessing of silence and recognition. I chose to leave my computer packed away and just sat looking out a giant window in New Hampshire at the mid-point of my journey to Wisdom School. (See Saturday’s post). Fortified with the coffee and an invitation to quiet from by ever-hospitable friend, Bill, I spent an hour reflecting on the feast of Corpus Christi (the Body of Christ) as it appeared to me on the calendar, in nature and in my own self as a cell in that universal body of love. Here’s what I scribbled in pencil at one point so that I would recall the experience – a great beginning to this “wisdom week.”
This morning the psalmist cries out: My soul is thirsting for you, my God! The whole of Psalm 63 is a passionate expression of what it means to be on a spiritual journey and is as relevant today as it was in the lifetime of Jesus or of the Israelites in the desert. Each of us is called, as we wake up to the necessity of relationship with something greater than ourselves, to search for what slakes that thirst. Some of us “go it alone” but most find companions on the way whose desire mirrors our own.
I sit this morning in the quiet moment where nothing stirs except the very energetic birds and where the light came as quickly just now as if someone had flipped a switch to begin the day. Everything is still outside while in my head the thoughts and plans that woke me at 4:30 begin to dissipate so I can notice and embrace the silence…
Although there are many people now in our country whose work lives do not fit the traditional Monday through Friday schedule, the majority still head to work this morning, hopefully somewhat refreshed from the weekend. The challenge for many is to bring a positive attitude into the workplace. It sometimes takes conscious effort to put one’s best foot forward, so to speak, depending on the work itself, our fitness for it and the companions we encounter there. It helps if we can take God along on the bus or the highway, especially on Mondays, with the understanding that our spiritual/inner life is not separate from the outer/busy life in the world.
Having nothing of merit to say on this Tuesday of Holy Week, I search Thomas Merton for a worthy word. Although he never disappoints, I find myself looking unsuccessfully for something soothing to counteract the sorrow of what is to come as this week progresses. I settle for an admission of God’s greatness (the only safeguard for us in distress) and the necessity of surrender if we are to take up our role and responsibility in concert with God.