Notes (2) Abhishiktananda Essential Writings

I finished the first two chapters yesterday. They are intense and Abhishiktananda was an intense fellow.

The first chapter is "Benedictine Monk" and gives some excerpts of A's writings before he went to India in 1948. The short snippits under vocation made me pause and think about my own vocation. A seemed to hear God's call clearly and to follow it without hesitation. His one desire was to give himself completely to God. I admire his clarity and simplicity.

In his letter to Fr. Jules Monchanin who was already living in India, A lays out his plans for his mission. His primary idea was to inculturate the Rule of Benedict in India, especially by founding monasteries. He wanted to maintain the "non-clerical" character of Benedict's rule and incorporate Hindu chants into the prayer of the monastery. Adapting the Western monastic lifestyle to that of a Hindu sannyasi while also maintaining the focus on the interior life of the monk was A's vision for a new asceticism. The monks' work was to be both physical and intellectual. A admits that he is primarily attracted to the intellectual work of beginning "a rethinking of Christian dogma in Hindu terms, and a Christian reinterpretation of Hindu thought" (51). This is a task which he seems to embody as well as articulate. A also spells out his desire that any usefulness to the work of the monk or the monastery is simply a fruit of the love of God, and not a goal to be sought for its own sake.

This chapter contains A's thoughts, after living in India for 11 years, on the relationship to Christianity to Hinduism and reflects a "fulfillment theology" where Christ fulfills all the aspirations of Hinduism. The editor notes that this view would soon change,

"However, he was soon to change and to become one of those most sensitive to the realization that there is one inexpressible mystery beyond all names and forms... " (52).

The second chapter "Advaita" presents a profound mystical theology born from the dialogue of Hindu and Christian thought. Advaita or non-duality, has much in common with the via negativa, or negative way within the Christian tradition. I also saw close connections with the theological concept of "communio."

The chapter begins by recounting A's encounter with Ramana Maharshi who taught mainly through silence.

"The way that the Maharshi recommended is essentially positive. It consists in trying to find out at every instant, in every act, who in truth it is that lives, thinks, and acts, and in being attentive to the see-er in the act of seeing, the hearer in the act of hearing, and so forth. It is a matter of constantly, relentlessly pursuing this consciousness of oneself which hides behind the phenomena and the events of the psychic life, of discovering it, seizing it in its original purity before anything else has covered it over or adulturated it" (59).

Ramana Maharshi only recommends one practice which is "to fix the attention on the act of breathing and consciously to follow the process of inhaling and exhaling" (60).

Reading this I was starkly reminded of Merton's teaching on the true self and even of Lonergan's emphasis on attending to experience. This section goes into deep water very quickly. Levels of being, or experience are discussed (69), liberation and detachment are discussed (67-68). The Paschal Mystery of Jesus and the Mystery of the Trinity provide the Christian concepts that are put in dialogue with adviatic thought. At the heart of this experiential teaching is an understanding of eternity and the present moment. "Eternity is not in the time that lasts but in the indivisible moment" (71). The quest for that which is unchanging and eternal finds its fruit in the present moment, the self which discovers itself in God.

I'll conclude these notes with a prayer of "eternal offering" found on p. 71 and excerpted from A's diary.

"Make the offering of this moment and receive the gift of this moment. The gift of this moment to me is the reality no other than the gift to the Son of the eternity springing up from the heart of the Father.

To accept it is to offer it.

To know it is to rejoice with the Bliss of the Spirit.

To accept it: faith;

To know it, rejoice in it, is to love with the Spirit's love.

It is to be fulfilled, to let oneself be fulfilled in the inbreathing of the Spirit,

and to be fulfilled in the Spirit is to fulfill God,

who without fulfillment through us at this moment in the Spirit

could not be fulfilled in himself in eternity, in his Spirit.

For my moment is God's eternity."

The idea of my fulfillment in some way fulfilling God is a challenging concept to understand. It is disturbing to my sensibilities of God's sovereignty and freedom. However, I am not quite ready to dismiss it. I think it does point to God's love for us and desire for our completion in Him. For true communion to be complete, both parties must be fulfilled. Hmmm. He gives me much to think about.

Notes: Swami Abhishiktananda Essential Writings

I was struck with the picture on the cover of the essential writings of Abhishiktananda. There is something about the picture, maybe the small grin on his face or the tilt of his head or the wisdom in his eyes. This man is joyful. The obvious poverty (I was reminded of the pictures of the dustbowl) does not destroy but uncovers an inner joy to this man.

Reading the story of his life that begins this volume revealed a man who was exceptionally passionate and sensitive. He loved everything good, true, and beautiful and was willing to hold the tension that this love required. Instead of solving these tensions superficially and being satisfied with that, Abhishiktananda allowed this tension to drive him deeper into his own soul. It was the inner conflicts and tensions that shaped this man. He was trying to live the VCII teaching of rejecting nothing that is true and holy in other religions (NA 2) before VCII proclaimed it. It was the tension of loving the other, in this case other religious traditions, that drove Abhishiktananda's spirit.

I am also fascinated by the mysteriousness of A's call to India. It seems like there was no obvious thing to attract him except a deep, inner call. Much like Mother Teresa's strong sense of call, A seemed to have a clarity that few of us have about where we are to go and what we are to do.

I'm excited to read A's actual writings. Reading the first entry I found this beautiful sentence in a letter to his friend in France.

"You make me dream, relive those things which I usually push into the background in order to be able to live my life in peace." (p. 43)

A never stopped loving something he once loved. He refused to compromise. Writing of his monastic calling he wrote,

"a monk cannot accept mediocrity; only extremes are appropriate for him."

I hope that I can catch some of this monastic passion.

Engaging the "Modern Spiritual Masters"

The practice of spiritual reading goes back to the origins of Christianity. So does the idea of sitting at the feet of a spiritual master. In the 4th century, John Cassian went searching for a teacher of prayer and spirituality in Egypt. I've decided to use this blog, "Exploring the Kingdom" to engage in the practice of these ancient spiritual explorers (while still exploring the Kingdom in other ways).

Orbis books, beginning in 1998, produced a series of books called the "Modern Spiritual Masters."This series brings a great variety of spiritual authors ranging from well know authors such as Henri Nouwen to nearly unknown spiritual figures such as Mother Maria Skobtsova. Also included in the series are authors I would not have classified as "spiritual writers" at all like Flannery O'Connor and G.K. Chesterton. Not all of the authors are Catholic or even Christian (Thich Nhat Hanh and Gandhi being examples).

The writings are chosen because they address the "concerns of our age." These concerns include "modern science, religious pluralism, secularism, and the quest for social justice." I am excited to begin this exploration at the feet of the Modern Spiritual Masters.
You can find reviews of each of the books, as I finish them, at Exploring the Kingdom's sister blog EKTreviews at:

http://etkreviews.blogspot.com/

The Landowner is the Key (Mt. 10:1-16a)

I have always been puzzled by the reading for this Sunday (Mt. 10:1-16a) but I ran across this commentary on the reading in Magnificat.

What is most striking about the landowner is the relentless way he himself goes out to find the laborers (five times), his willingness to hire the "rejects," and his desire to pay them a full day's wage. Jesus tells us that the kingdom of heaven is like this landowner. The love of heaven takes the initiative in seeking us out. The love of heaven chooses us despite our utter unworthiness. And the love of heaven is lavish in its self-gift to us. To love the kingdom of heaven is to love this landowner and the way he acts. The temptation is for us to measure our life and "the way things should be" by a standard at odds with God...

The parable is about the landowner, not about me. Life is about the landowner, not about me, only I just can't get my mind around that.

Vatican and Evolution

"No to a closed evolutionism, yes to a theory of evolution which is itself evolving," was the way one of the organizers described the point of view of a conference coming up organized by the Gregorian University in Rome and the University of Notre Dame. This conference is also co-sponsored by the Pontifical Council for Culture. This conference, entitled "Biological Evolution: Facts and Theories" will be held in March at the Gregorian in Rome in conjuction with the 150th anniversary of Darwin's book, The Origin of Species.

It is good to see some sanity prevailing on this issue which has become part of the "culture wars." At a press conference Archbishop Gianfranco Ravasi, President of the Pontifical Council for Culture stated, "I want to affirm, as an a priori, the compatibility of the theory of evolution with the messagae of the Bible and the church's theology."

For the full story, read John Allen's excellent article at:
Genesis isn't a science book: Vatican to study evolution; Benedict's trip to France; and Pius XII National Catholic Reporter Conversation Cafe

I am excited to see the church clearly advocating a return to dialogue with science and calling for converstaion rather than polarization. Fides it ratio, faith and reason, working together.

If faith and science can begin to learn from one another, is there hope for our politics?

Saintly Humor

St. Francis de Sales and his brother Jean-Francois (also a bishop and living with Francis) were dining together one night.

... Jean-Francois was surprised at his brother's silence. "What were you thinking about?" he suddenly asked.

"Well," replied Francis, "if you want to know I will tell you. I was thinking that there was one lucky woman in the world."

Jean-Francois innocently asked whom he had in mind and suggested some names.

"I'm afraid you don't understand," Francis said smiling. "The lucky woman I am thinking of is the one you did not marry."

- From Saintmaker, Micahel de la Bedoyere

Who says saints don't have a sense of humor?

The Power of Gentle Words

I couldn't resist sharing this poem by Thich Nhat Hanh found at the beginning of his book "Calming the Fearful Mind: A Zen Response to Terrorism":

Promise me,

promise me this day,

promise me now,

while the sun is overhead

exactly at the zenith

promise me:

Even as they

strike you down

with a mountain of hatred and violence;

even as they step on you and crush you

like a worm,

even as they dismember and disembowel you,

remember, brother,

remember:

man is not our enemy.

The only thing worthy of you is compassion --

invincible, limitless, unconditional.

Hatred will never let you face

the beast in man.

One day, when you face this beast alone,

with your courage intact, your eyes kind,

untroubled

(even as no one sees them),

out of your smile

will bloom a flower.

And those who love you

will behold you

across ten thousand worlds of birth and dying.

Alone again,

I will go on with bent head,

knowing that love has become eternal.

On the long, rough road,

the sun and the moon

will continue to shine.

How is my suffering transformed into compassion?

This power in powerlessness is one of the unmistakable signs of the Kingdom. As I continue to walk this "long, rough road," may the sun and moon continue to shine in acts of compassion.

Behold, the Kingdom!

Amazement, Sorrow... Then What?

Jesus' father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, "Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted and you yourself a sword will pierce so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." (Lk 2"33-35)

Today is the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. I cannot help but see the progression of emotions that Mary experiences in this reading. I can relate to her
experience. Thankfully it is more than sorrow!

Mary is first amazed at what is being said of her son, of his potential and his promise. Sorrow quickly follows as the realities of the path that leads to that promise is revealed. Fortunately, we know the rest of the story and know that sorrow is not the final word but merely an unavoidable step on the journey to joy. It is a step that makes the joy more beautiful.

I can relate to Mary today. The amazement and the initial excitement of the move and all its promise is wearing a little thin today. I am feeling the sorrow in the reality of being separated from 2/3 of my family and not knowing where God is leading us. Buying our first house is enough to throw me into a sorrowful place :).

But, while I don't know the rest of the story, I can trust that this is a step toward a deeper joy. My family will be reunited. A job will come through. A mortgage isn't the end of the world. After the initial amazement and the sorrow comes the real beauty... and the sorrow of today makes it all the more beautiful when it comes.

Exaltation of the Cross

Today is the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross and we are challenged to look at what is killing us. To do what a Buddhist might call "deep looking" or a Christian could call a "contemplative gaze," or "a long, loving look at what is real." Whatever we call it, we are challenged to recognize what ails us and see that it is exactly by looking at what ails us that we are redeemed.

In the first reading (Nm 21:4b-9), Moses has led the people into the desert and they start complaining. The journey is taking too long. They can only see the "wretched food" in front of them and fail to recognize the gift of freedom they have been given. Their complaints, like all poisonous words, bring death. This time it comes in the form of saraph serpents.

The people do not know what to do. They recognize that something has gone dreadfully wrong but don't know how to respond. They are frightened and powerless in the face of the serpents.

They ask Moses what to do. The very one they had been complaining against becomes the vehicle of healing!

Moses prays and is told to tell the people to gaze at the fruits of their evil. Peer into the deadly consequences of their bitter words. And in that simple look, healing occurs. A loving glance would set them free of the serpents poison. It was that simple. Clear vision healed the people of the fruits of their own sin.

The Gospel (Jn 3:13-17) presents a similar message. Looking with compassion at a crucified human being, being confronted with the fruits of our own fear and violence, is the way to eternal life. That's one aspect of the grace of the cross. After looking at the violence around us, we cannot pretend we are saints. We know otherwise. There is a dark part of us which is capable of horrors. The cross reveals this darkness. It redeems the darkness by exposing it.

We are a few days past the anniversary of the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. Our country is still ailing. There is plenty to complain about and plenty of serpent bites. The horror of humanity is exposed again raising questions, not providing answers:

• Do we have the courage to look deeply at these serpents?
• Will we gaze on our brothers and sisters who are suffering and be moved to compassion?
• Will our inner violence be transformed by peering into the eyes of the suffering?
• Can we allow our darkness to be redeemed?

There is hope. "… God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him."

We are standing at a place of transformation. Our violence is exposed once again. There is another way. Jesus has shown us a way beyond violence. In his teaching, he shows us the way of peace and nonviolence. In his Spirit, he empowers us to love. It is not an easy way, this way of love, but now that the cross has exposed our violence we know that Jesus' way is our last, best hope for peace.

Beginning in Vulnerability

Why is the blank page so scary (or even the “empty field” of a blog post)?

Writing the first word is terrifying, even if it is a trite cliché or a quote. Staring at the blank page is paralyzing…

There is a certain purity and beauty to the blank page. How could my words improve upon the simplicity and the silence of the page? That is what paralyzes, at least what paralyzes me. The marks on the page are flaws, blemishes on the simple beauty of the blank page.

Yet the page calls out for writing. Its blankness exists to be marked. It waits for the pen. It waits for meaning. The page is pure potential that begs to come into actuality. The beauty of the page is an incomplete beauty. The page exists to be marked.

It is this tension between the purity and safety of the blank page and the call of the page that makes the act of writing so difficult and yet so rewarding. Julia Cameron says,

“Writing is like breathing, it’s possible to do it well, but the point is to do it no matter what.”

I agree. Writing, like breathing has its rhythm and there are times when the pen must be put to the page or the fingers to the keyboard. Communication must happen and, like breathing, if it is held in too long, the writer in us will die.

Beginning to write is like any beginning. It is a risk. It makes us vulnerable like an infant. Yet, one must begin as an infant. It is the only way, unless you are a Greek god like Athena who sprang fully grown out of Zeus’s head. We are not ancient deities. For us, vulnerability is the only way. Everything begins with vulnerability.

John writes, “In the beginning was the Word…” This Word is Jesus, who becomes a vulnerable infant and places himself in our hands. Jesus breaks the silence of God and becomes helpless. God risks everything. He is not content to rest in his simplicity but takes the chance of loving and communicating that love to us. All beginnings can be acts of love if they begin in vulnerability. I hope that as I begin to write I can write with love and vulnerability. May my pen (and my computer keys) be blessed with gentleness, joy, and gratitude.