Beatiful Jack, thanks for sharing. The initial intimate details are actually quite relevant to me also, so I appreciate your openness and courage.
I believe what you and Saint John are pointing at is that God may not be seen by us unless He chooses to reveal Himself. We cannot see God, but may pray that He will shed His loving glance upon us. It's a descending process. If we strive to ascend on our own strength, we'll just deceive ourselves and end up chasing fantasies and projections, as many do - those who are not patient or brave enough to just sit in darkness and let it sink in completely.
Stillness (nishta in Sanskrit) is an early stage of progress, but already advanced enough to give us our first glimpses - abhas, shadows or reflections - of divinity. Then, we can remember the perspective that this vision will one day be full and complete:
"For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."
So may that stillness come into our hearts, Haribol!
Nanda- Thank you. I can only agree. St. John of the Cross does, by the way, acknowledge exactly what you are saying:
And just as God is darkness to our intellect, so faith dazzles and blinds us. Only by means of faith, in the divine light exceeding all understanding, doe God manifest himself to the soul. The greater one's faith the closer one's union with God.
The deeper our unknowing of God the greater the intimacy, the greater we are sure of his presence. Yes, may God grant us all perfect Stillness.-Jack
I love St. John of the Cross so much. Lorena McKennitt set his poem to music, have your heard it? https://youtu.be/_EaIdzfcbKs
The darkness, the pit, pain, aloneness... they can teach us so much more than light and happiness can. Our God is a broken-hearted God and we share in His broken-heartedness. It won’t kill us. It will set us free.
I actually had heard this song before, but I had no idea it was the poetry of St. John of the Cross. Beautiful.
The past few years have been dark. It seemed like a cruel joke. St. John of the Cross is showing me I had it all backwards. It is a time of letting go of my attachments and agendas. Being emptied trying to stay as receptive as I can to the darkness of unknowing. As Meister Eckhart put it:
"God expects but one thing of you, and that is that you should come out of yourself in so far as you are a created being made and let God be God in you."
Thanks. This reminds me of Weil: ' ‘The absence of God is the most marvellous testimony of perfect love, and that is why pure necessity, necessity which is manifestly different from the good, is so beautiful.’
The Weill quote seems almost like a koan. The paradox fascinates me. A Mysterium tremendum et fascinans. It can lead us on so we don't become complacent in a static understanding. Which is a perpetual risk. Thank you. -Jack
Thanks, Jack. This one spoke to me in a timely way. There is so much to cling to, and to cling to so easily. There is a gravitational pull whether in dreams or whatever is circling round us or in us. God is the counter-pull, though hidden as you say. Yet I would even go a bit further (or in a slightly different direction) and say that God has not been altogether hidden in my own life, and has made his presence powerfully, even miraculously felt, though even with that, my faith and prayerfulness can falter and dwindle or grow petulantly demanding.
Psalm 88 seems to give no answer to this problem, other than the fact the psalmist keeps praying to the God who is hidden and seems to do nothing. Which says something.
I like the analogy you use as God as a force acting upon us. I think he is sometimes a counter-pull but sometimes he works with us too. It's hard to define when this is happening by analysing the events in our lives but I think it can be felt.
I'm not a Christian so I'm not sure about Psalm 88....it makes me a bit uneasy to tell you the truth. As a panenthist I can't connect with it and do not find it a useful guide. I've yet to find anything formal, other than process theology that resonates....not sure I'm ready for reading Alfred North Whitehead yet though!
I would call myself a panentheist as well. I was trying to hint at that near the end of the essay. I hope to elaborate on that in future posts. It is tricky to find a balanced way to express this seeming paradox of a wholly, radically transcendent God, who at the same time is fully present and in all things. Words fail me. Though they always will, I keep trying. -Jack
Funny, I had accidentally misread Naomi’s word as “pantheist” rather than “panentheist”. (My apologies Naomi for my unconscious bias). I would describe my view as panentheist as well: God being present everywhere within the universe and yet distinct and beyond it.
I agree it is a tricky balance. It does seem to me that more Eastern spiritualities tend to emphasize the former meaning, while Western views tend to emphasize the latter. So we end up with ineffable, indescribable Spirit on the one hand, and God as a cosmic watchmaker on the other. There’s probably a brain correlate as well, i.e., left (discrete, logical, sequential) versus right (wholistic, non-linear)…which I think is Iain McGilchrist’s view in The Master and his Emissary (a beautiful big book which I am still too daunted to read).
Anyway, all that said, the balance, yes, how do we get it right? Talking about it will probably (by definition) only give us half an answer.
It's interesting that you should point out the differences between Eastern and Western views; my focus on God being present everywhere within the universe comes from my years of Buddhist practice perhaps? I suppose I put less emphasis on the fact that He is also distinct and beyond as I see this as a kind of 'silent thereness'. Like God is a material on which the universe is built; a canvas if you like. Without Him a universe could not exist, but ordinarily who would notice a canvas without a painting on it? Perhaps that is also why I focus on the brush strokes?
Naomi- I practiced Zen and also Aikido for a time in my life. Both practices have left their mark, so to speak, on me. Truth is truth. St. John of the Cross, and the Cloud of Unknowing, while not Zen, have overlapping Venn diagrams with Zen. I also strive to balance the practice of contemplative unknowing with a sacramental spirit of God's presence in all things. Together one might call the "balance" of the two the Original Harmony (Aikido literally means
"The Way of Harmonizing Energy" or sometimes "The Way of Peace"). -Jack
You're right Jack; it's immensely difficult to express these ideas through our abstracted language. That's why I find myself writing mostly poetry! I'm not sure I hit the spot with that though! Yet for some reason I keep writing...like it's something God wants from me!
Psalm 88 had me a bit concerned. I was hoping you didn't feel abandoned by God. That must be a tough feeling!
Naomi- I don't think the poetic element can be overemphasized speaking of the most important, even ultimate things. In rhetoric I try, and frequently fail, to balance precision and concision. But the rhetorical must be balanced--that word again!--with poetry. Of the two Poetry has the final word. -Jack
P.s. I have felt abandoned by God. This has been my experience over the past few years. This is why what St. John of the Cross is saying resonates with me. The darkness of unknowing is not the same as being forgotten and abandoned. This insight has reinvigorated my prayer life. We shall see what happens. -Jack
I think God is the only pull strong enough to counter-pull the ego. This general view would probably be compatible with many spiritual views. The challenge I have experienced, past and present, is projecting my ego into what I think to be God. Thus I have thought (and known others to passionately think), “I know for sure this is what God wants, I feel it deep down, so why isn’t it happening?” I’m more aware of this tendency but I don’t think I will ever quite escape it. It raises the uncomfortable possibility that my life, at any given point, is not necessarily about what I think it to be about at that particular point.
Peter- This is a far more concise statement of what I was trying to get at. I have so many agendas. Many of which aren't really even fully known to me until things go awry. And then it it is all, "where art Thou, O Lord?" And yet the whole thing transpires solely in my own thoughts. -Jack
From a perspective of interconnection, we are not purely affected by our own will and God's; we are affected by everything around us too. Like a complex web of events all culminating in changes in our own lives. I suppose that can account for the feeling you describe. Neither we nor God can drive changes that the whole of life cannot support. Thank you for your reply I really enjoy contemplating ideas like this....now I will say good night as it's very late here in Ireland!
Thanks for the essay Jack. I had a few stabs at contemplative prayer and failed to even get out of the starting blocks. I look forward to hearing of your experiences. I hope that in a monastery you will be in the right kind of environment.
I have stopped and started contemplative prayer more times than I can count. So often I would metaphorically drive off the road and into a ditch, or worse into a crevasse. But anything worth doing is worth doing badly, as Chesterton put it. So I keep going.
St. John of the Cross puts the contemplative path in better perspective, I think, then simply one of success or failure. I find it helpful. I will try to address this in a future post. -Jack
I will be interested to read that and in the meantime I will put St John of the Cross on my reading list.
I can completey see that it is never going to be a linera process, each day better than the one before. I hope it is rather the case that whatever dead ends or crevasses you meet the day will come when you realise you are looking down from higher ground!
I think that you are right that it isn't a linear process. That's only our human sense of efficiency and of course, the brevity of our lives that gets us trapped in straight lines. I have to wonder whether what seems to us--to me--as a fall into a crevasse, or as a dead end that requires years of apparently pointless backtracking, isn't the quickest route in the end. God's ways are not our ways. Isaiah 55:8-9.
What a wonderful, heartfelt and exploring essay! Continue on, dear one.
Beatiful Jack, thanks for sharing. The initial intimate details are actually quite relevant to me also, so I appreciate your openness and courage.
I believe what you and Saint John are pointing at is that God may not be seen by us unless He chooses to reveal Himself. We cannot see God, but may pray that He will shed His loving glance upon us. It's a descending process. If we strive to ascend on our own strength, we'll just deceive ourselves and end up chasing fantasies and projections, as many do - those who are not patient or brave enough to just sit in darkness and let it sink in completely.
Stillness (nishta in Sanskrit) is an early stage of progress, but already advanced enough to give us our first glimpses - abhas, shadows or reflections - of divinity. Then, we can remember the perspective that this vision will one day be full and complete:
"For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."
So may that stillness come into our hearts, Haribol!
Nanda- Thank you. I can only agree. St. John of the Cross does, by the way, acknowledge exactly what you are saying:
And just as God is darkness to our intellect, so faith dazzles and blinds us. Only by means of faith, in the divine light exceeding all understanding, doe God manifest himself to the soul. The greater one's faith the closer one's union with God.
The deeper our unknowing of God the greater the intimacy, the greater we are sure of his presence. Yes, may God grant us all perfect Stillness.-Jack
When you wrote "suspension of rationality" I thought of Catherine Doherty's phrase "folding the wings of the intellect".
Well done!
It is we who are hiding (Genesis 3:9) behind the lies we believe - and from which He has once and for all set us free.
Hebrews 2:14-15
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B487M8KEkpHZcU9ibzhZMDV4SXc/view?usp=sharing&resourcekey=0-9RjjjQTYcnAs9ZRD1mFmRw
I love St. John of the Cross so much. Lorena McKennitt set his poem to music, have your heard it? https://youtu.be/_EaIdzfcbKs
The darkness, the pit, pain, aloneness... they can teach us so much more than light and happiness can. Our God is a broken-hearted God and we share in His broken-heartedness. It won’t kill us. It will set us free.
Eleanor-
I actually had heard this song before, but I had no idea it was the poetry of St. John of the Cross. Beautiful.
The past few years have been dark. It seemed like a cruel joke. St. John of the Cross is showing me I had it all backwards. It is a time of letting go of my attachments and agendas. Being emptied trying to stay as receptive as I can to the darkness of unknowing. As Meister Eckhart put it:
"God expects but one thing of you, and that is that you should come out of yourself in so far as you are a created being made and let God be God in you."
Good to have you here. -Jack
Thanks. This reminds me of Weil: ' ‘The absence of God is the most marvellous testimony of perfect love, and that is why pure necessity, necessity which is manifestly different from the good, is so beautiful.’
The Weill quote seems almost like a koan. The paradox fascinates me. A Mysterium tremendum et fascinans. It can lead us on so we don't become complacent in a static understanding. Which is a perpetual risk. Thank you. -Jack
The absence of God or the Living Divine Reality is hell-deep terrifying!
Reality Itself Is All The God There Is.
Happiness is the now-and-forever Mystery that IS the Real Heart and the Only Real God of every one.
Thanks, Jack. This one spoke to me in a timely way. There is so much to cling to, and to cling to so easily. There is a gravitational pull whether in dreams or whatever is circling round us or in us. God is the counter-pull, though hidden as you say. Yet I would even go a bit further (or in a slightly different direction) and say that God has not been altogether hidden in my own life, and has made his presence powerfully, even miraculously felt, though even with that, my faith and prayerfulness can falter and dwindle or grow petulantly demanding.
Psalm 88 seems to give no answer to this problem, other than the fact the psalmist keeps praying to the God who is hidden and seems to do nothing. Which says something.
I like the analogy you use as God as a force acting upon us. I think he is sometimes a counter-pull but sometimes he works with us too. It's hard to define when this is happening by analysing the events in our lives but I think it can be felt.
I'm not a Christian so I'm not sure about Psalm 88....it makes me a bit uneasy to tell you the truth. As a panenthist I can't connect with it and do not find it a useful guide. I've yet to find anything formal, other than process theology that resonates....not sure I'm ready for reading Alfred North Whitehead yet though!
Naomi- Psalm 88 is a tough one, that is for sure.
I would call myself a panentheist as well. I was trying to hint at that near the end of the essay. I hope to elaborate on that in future posts. It is tricky to find a balanced way to express this seeming paradox of a wholly, radically transcendent God, who at the same time is fully present and in all things. Words fail me. Though they always will, I keep trying. -Jack
Funny, I had accidentally misread Naomi’s word as “pantheist” rather than “panentheist”. (My apologies Naomi for my unconscious bias). I would describe my view as panentheist as well: God being present everywhere within the universe and yet distinct and beyond it.
I agree it is a tricky balance. It does seem to me that more Eastern spiritualities tend to emphasize the former meaning, while Western views tend to emphasize the latter. So we end up with ineffable, indescribable Spirit on the one hand, and God as a cosmic watchmaker on the other. There’s probably a brain correlate as well, i.e., left (discrete, logical, sequential) versus right (wholistic, non-linear)…which I think is Iain McGilchrist’s view in The Master and his Emissary (a beautiful big book which I am still too daunted to read).
Anyway, all that said, the balance, yes, how do we get it right? Talking about it will probably (by definition) only give us half an answer.
It's interesting that you should point out the differences between Eastern and Western views; my focus on God being present everywhere within the universe comes from my years of Buddhist practice perhaps? I suppose I put less emphasis on the fact that He is also distinct and beyond as I see this as a kind of 'silent thereness'. Like God is a material on which the universe is built; a canvas if you like. Without Him a universe could not exist, but ordinarily who would notice a canvas without a painting on it? Perhaps that is also why I focus on the brush strokes?
Naomi- I practiced Zen and also Aikido for a time in my life. Both practices have left their mark, so to speak, on me. Truth is truth. St. John of the Cross, and the Cloud of Unknowing, while not Zen, have overlapping Venn diagrams with Zen. I also strive to balance the practice of contemplative unknowing with a sacramental spirit of God's presence in all things. Together one might call the "balance" of the two the Original Harmony (Aikido literally means
"The Way of Harmonizing Energy" or sometimes "The Way of Peace"). -Jack
You're right Jack; it's immensely difficult to express these ideas through our abstracted language. That's why I find myself writing mostly poetry! I'm not sure I hit the spot with that though! Yet for some reason I keep writing...like it's something God wants from me!
Psalm 88 had me a bit concerned. I was hoping you didn't feel abandoned by God. That must be a tough feeling!
Naomi- I don't think the poetic element can be overemphasized speaking of the most important, even ultimate things. In rhetoric I try, and frequently fail, to balance precision and concision. But the rhetorical must be balanced--that word again!--with poetry. Of the two Poetry has the final word. -Jack
P.s. I have felt abandoned by God. This has been my experience over the past few years. This is why what St. John of the Cross is saying resonates with me. The darkness of unknowing is not the same as being forgotten and abandoned. This insight has reinvigorated my prayer life. We shall see what happens. -Jack
I think God is the only pull strong enough to counter-pull the ego. This general view would probably be compatible with many spiritual views. The challenge I have experienced, past and present, is projecting my ego into what I think to be God. Thus I have thought (and known others to passionately think), “I know for sure this is what God wants, I feel it deep down, so why isn’t it happening?” I’m more aware of this tendency but I don’t think I will ever quite escape it. It raises the uncomfortable possibility that my life, at any given point, is not necessarily about what I think it to be about at that particular point.
Peter- This is a far more concise statement of what I was trying to get at. I have so many agendas. Many of which aren't really even fully known to me until things go awry. And then it it is all, "where art Thou, O Lord?" And yet the whole thing transpires solely in my own thoughts. -Jack
From a perspective of interconnection, we are not purely affected by our own will and God's; we are affected by everything around us too. Like a complex web of events all culminating in changes in our own lives. I suppose that can account for the feeling you describe. Neither we nor God can drive changes that the whole of life cannot support. Thank you for your reply I really enjoy contemplating ideas like this....now I will say good night as it's very late here in Ireland!
Thanks for the essay Jack. I had a few stabs at contemplative prayer and failed to even get out of the starting blocks. I look forward to hearing of your experiences. I hope that in a monastery you will be in the right kind of environment.
Rick- Thank you. I hope it is right as well.
I have stopped and started contemplative prayer more times than I can count. So often I would metaphorically drive off the road and into a ditch, or worse into a crevasse. But anything worth doing is worth doing badly, as Chesterton put it. So I keep going.
St. John of the Cross puts the contemplative path in better perspective, I think, then simply one of success or failure. I find it helpful. I will try to address this in a future post. -Jack
I will be interested to read that and in the meantime I will put St John of the Cross on my reading list.
I can completey see that it is never going to be a linera process, each day better than the one before. I hope it is rather the case that whatever dead ends or crevasses you meet the day will come when you realise you are looking down from higher ground!
Rick- Amen to that. I hope the same for you.
I think that you are right that it isn't a linear process. That's only our human sense of efficiency and of course, the brevity of our lives that gets us trapped in straight lines. I have to wonder whether what seems to us--to me--as a fall into a crevasse, or as a dead end that requires years of apparently pointless backtracking, isn't the quickest route in the end. God's ways are not our ways. Isaiah 55:8-9.
Thank you. -Jack
https://twitter.com/ajsawyer716/status/1546460761043632128?s=20&t=jByvzLxiiFT6RL0NZdHkpw