Taize prayers have meant a lot to me for various reasons for a half of my life now, even though it is a river that I never enter twice.
Yesterday, while praying, or singing, or whatever one may call it, I realised the Taize practice was much like lectio divina. Of course, I had no idea what lectio divina meant 15 years ago, when I first got my taste of Taize in Wroclaw, Poland. But instinctively, I realised even then that the repeating texts somehow penetrate my thoughts, envelope them and then rise above them, taking these thoughts into a prayer, dedicating them to God. Distractions are somehow a very minor problem with a Taize kind of prayer.
What occurred to me yesterday, and what I had no idea of before, is that the practice of lectio divina has exactly the same pattern and purpose - repeating the Word, chewing on it, until it becomes part of you, until it becomes part of your thoughts, the ever-present threads of memory and ideas and realisations. And it shouldn't matter that some of these thoughts have nothing to do with the Word that I medidate on. The whole purpose of the practice is to offer them to God along with everything else, good and bad, to consecrate my whole self by the healing word.
Expressed in words, this all sounds very dry and clinical. I think this is because it is understood by practicing. With the added dimension of music and harmony Taize songs made the practice real and present for those who never felt drawn to institutionalised religion. I could only praise br. Roger's genius...
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Thursday, 1 October 2009
One of my days on Gozo
It is pleasantly hot, nothing like the excruciating August heat. The house I am staying at is gorgeous, neither words nor pictures do it justice. The lower floor is some 300 years old, used to be a manger, with holes in stones for tying the animals still intact. There is a huge roof terrace, a courtyard, an inner well, a balcony onto which two bedroom open, it is a paradise! And in a quiet dead end street lined with plants in huge pots.
Church clocks beat time every quarter of an hour. Technically speaking, I don’t even need a watch here. I think they stop some time during the night and start again at 5 am. Oh yes, from 5 am on, life begins…
I started my first day on Gozo, rather confused yet, and unable to find the right church, with a mass at 10 am. Then prayer in front of the crucifix.
What is it about Malta that makes me prioritize the right things at once? I have only been gone for 5 months, and yet again - people who are important are forgotten, the mass and prayer that should be the centre of all life, of all day, are somehow shoved aside. Not neglected, but just, somehow, not in the centre. Is there too much to do in our over-civilized world? Too many choices? Too much information?
In Marsalforn, I got on a bus, and as the driver was starting the engine, I noticed with my side vision that an elderly lady one row behind me on the other side made a sign of the cross and characteristically kissed the crossed fingers. As much as I was tempted to think of this being directly related to the Gozitan/Maltese driving technique, the recent Scripture came at once - never say or do anything except in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. Yes, it’s that simple, isn’t it?
When I prayed in front of the crucifix in the basilica today (St George), I suddenly thought: “This is where I want to be, yes, exactly in this niche, in this corner tucked away from the world, in this place, in this state of mind”. After a few seconds had passed, I realized this was exactly what Peter wanted to say when he saw Our Lord transfigured on the mount. He wanted them all to stay as they were - in that feeling, in that place, in that moment. The Lord didn’t answer him anything…
Neither did he answer me, of course, but as minutes passed by and I looked at the crucifix again, I almost saw it. Peter couldn’t stay. Neither could Our Lord. He had to go to the cross. As a matter of fact, so did Peter. We all have to follow in the footsteps of our master, and if even he could not remain in that state forever who am I to expect perfect choices in perfect circumstances? I remembered my last evening in Whitland last year and the way I suddenly saw the cross as my own… I suppose, it will only be in heaven that we will actually be able to experience this perfection constantly.
Church clocks beat time every quarter of an hour. Technically speaking, I don’t even need a watch here. I think they stop some time during the night and start again at 5 am. Oh yes, from 5 am on, life begins…
I started my first day on Gozo, rather confused yet, and unable to find the right church, with a mass at 10 am. Then prayer in front of the crucifix.
What is it about Malta that makes me prioritize the right things at once? I have only been gone for 5 months, and yet again - people who are important are forgotten, the mass and prayer that should be the centre of all life, of all day, are somehow shoved aside. Not neglected, but just, somehow, not in the centre. Is there too much to do in our over-civilized world? Too many choices? Too much information?
In Marsalforn, I got on a bus, and as the driver was starting the engine, I noticed with my side vision that an elderly lady one row behind me on the other side made a sign of the cross and characteristically kissed the crossed fingers. As much as I was tempted to think of this being directly related to the Gozitan/Maltese driving technique, the recent Scripture came at once - never say or do anything except in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. Yes, it’s that simple, isn’t it?
When I prayed in front of the crucifix in the basilica today (St George), I suddenly thought: “This is where I want to be, yes, exactly in this niche, in this corner tucked away from the world, in this place, in this state of mind”. After a few seconds had passed, I realized this was exactly what Peter wanted to say when he saw Our Lord transfigured on the mount. He wanted them all to stay as they were - in that feeling, in that place, in that moment. The Lord didn’t answer him anything…
Neither did he answer me, of course, but as minutes passed by and I looked at the crucifix again, I almost saw it. Peter couldn’t stay. Neither could Our Lord. He had to go to the cross. As a matter of fact, so did Peter. We all have to follow in the footsteps of our master, and if even he could not remain in that state forever who am I to expect perfect choices in perfect circumstances? I remembered my last evening in Whitland last year and the way I suddenly saw the cross as my own… I suppose, it will only be in heaven that we will actually be able to experience this perfection constantly.
Sunday, 20 September 2009
Whitland, day 5
Time is somehow of a relative significance in a monastery, as you grow to live and fight day by day, but I can't help remembering St. Mary of Egypt, who lived alone in the desert for 47 years, and yet managed to keep track of all of them, despite (or because of?) the fight of the first 17. She was obviously totally awake and alert all of this time.
Today, a lot of local people came to Mass. One of them, a 91-year-old gentleman, who is still not ruling out the possiblity of getting married once again (but it will have to be love at first sight, you see), knew our late bishop Gran when he was a monk at Caldey. Now Caldey is a place everyone else here - except me - visited at least once. It is a beautifull island off the cost of Pembrokeshire, Wales, not far from Whitland, where Cistercian monks live. I keep hearing stories about Caldey, one lady translated the poems of a monk from there, another wrote a book... When I voice how inadequate I feel in this welcoming environment, I only hear that we all started somewhere.
My irritation at the fact that I am more welcome in a place I am visiting for a second time than in a place I have lived and worked in for 9 years is apparently obvious, because I am constantly being asked, why on earth do you live in Norway? I don't know the answer to this question, because I have pondered it for all those nine years, and, admittedly, there was always something the Lord was accomplishing in my life. So, I guess, the answer is, because it was God's will. He has always made a point of reminding me I am only a pilgrim on this earth.
Now I am part of another fellowship of pilgrims who share one thing in common - neither of us can stay in a place the charism of which we belive we share, and we have to find ways of taking this charism to our respective homes and living it out. While this part of my pilgrimage is yet very personal and I am not prepared to discuss it in depth even with myself, the place to live part is somewhat more open to discussion. Not rushing things, I would like to hope that one day, indeed, I will get to live in a place where I can speak English daily. Since 1997, the answer to this prayer has always been NO - and there was always a reason for it, so it yet remains to see whether my wishes are at all reasonable and good. But, at the very least, it is good to know you are welcome someplace you love...
Today, a lot of local people came to Mass. One of them, a 91-year-old gentleman, who is still not ruling out the possiblity of getting married once again (but it will have to be love at first sight, you see), knew our late bishop Gran when he was a monk at Caldey. Now Caldey is a place everyone else here - except me - visited at least once. It is a beautifull island off the cost of Pembrokeshire, Wales, not far from Whitland, where Cistercian monks live. I keep hearing stories about Caldey, one lady translated the poems of a monk from there, another wrote a book... When I voice how inadequate I feel in this welcoming environment, I only hear that we all started somewhere.
My irritation at the fact that I am more welcome in a place I am visiting for a second time than in a place I have lived and worked in for 9 years is apparently obvious, because I am constantly being asked, why on earth do you live in Norway? I don't know the answer to this question, because I have pondered it for all those nine years, and, admittedly, there was always something the Lord was accomplishing in my life. So, I guess, the answer is, because it was God's will. He has always made a point of reminding me I am only a pilgrim on this earth.
Now I am part of another fellowship of pilgrims who share one thing in common - neither of us can stay in a place the charism of which we belive we share, and we have to find ways of taking this charism to our respective homes and living it out. While this part of my pilgrimage is yet very personal and I am not prepared to discuss it in depth even with myself, the place to live part is somewhat more open to discussion. Not rushing things, I would like to hope that one day, indeed, I will get to live in a place where I can speak English daily. Since 1997, the answer to this prayer has always been NO - and there was always a reason for it, so it yet remains to see whether my wishes are at all reasonable and good. But, at the very least, it is good to know you are welcome someplace you love...
The simplicity of forgiveness
There is something I have come to feel very strongly about, that much of the mistakes of the past four month, much of the turbulence of these months, would have never occurred - had I chosen the road of unconditioonal forgiveness from the beginning. I am not at liberty to discuss any details of this period, but I am totally convinced that much of the struggle could have been avoided by unconditional forgiveness on my part - for my own sake.
The only way to advance, and, at times, to survive spiritually, is to live a life of forgiveness. It should not depend on the matter in question, its gravity or how the other person or people or organisations feel about it. Nor does it mean to condone or justify what has been done to you, because of course people do terrible things to other people, that can never be justified or accepted. The problem is, if I do not forgive - it is my heart that becomes hard, it is my life that becomes a compromise, it is my prayers that become hollow, my health, my sanity, my spirituality that suffers. So for me, living in a state of grace, means, first of all, to accept God's forgiveness, which in turn leads me to forgive, unconditionally and at once, whatever wrong may have been done to me.
I suddenly realised again the utter stupidity of trying to be God and instead somehow punishing myself for what has already been done to me. Well, I suppose, that is the value of silence I am living in now, isn't it...
The only way to advance, and, at times, to survive spiritually, is to live a life of forgiveness. It should not depend on the matter in question, its gravity or how the other person or people or organisations feel about it. Nor does it mean to condone or justify what has been done to you, because of course people do terrible things to other people, that can never be justified or accepted. The problem is, if I do not forgive - it is my heart that becomes hard, it is my life that becomes a compromise, it is my prayers that become hollow, my health, my sanity, my spirituality that suffers. So for me, living in a state of grace, means, first of all, to accept God's forgiveness, which in turn leads me to forgive, unconditionally and at once, whatever wrong may have been done to me.
I suddenly realised again the utter stupidity of trying to be God and instead somehow punishing myself for what has already been done to me. Well, I suppose, that is the value of silence I am living in now, isn't it...
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
The readings this week have been really special, and isn't it strange how things you think you know by heart suddenly come alive? I will side with those who say they never actually read their Bible the way they started to when they became Catholic.
It is as if I saw with my own eyes the rich young man who approaches Jesus and asks him what does he have to DO to have eternal life. Why is Jesus so dismissive, why doesn't He reveal Himself? The young man's question echoes another question from John 6, when the people asked Jesus - what MUST WE DO to do the works of God? Remember His reply, "This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent."
To the young man, Jesus replies that only God is good. He doesn't say anything about faith, but he urges him to keep the commandments. This is a paradox in what I see to be a teaching on the grace of God as opposed to futile human efforts. The paradox is somewhat illogical because, when the young man says that he has already been keeping the commandments, Jesus suddenly makes an outrageous proposition. But God is above our logic. And Jesus saw right through the young man's self-righteousness. Not that he didn't work in the Father's vineyard - Jesus didn't denigrade his efforts. But the young man's salvation lies with Jesus and He is right there - His Lord and His God...
This time, when I was reading these passages, I noticed the young man's question, "what do I still need to DO?" He seems to be aware he lacks something, there is a longing he cannot satisfy by his undoubtedly moral and exemplary life. I think Jesus's eyes were softly smiling when He was saying "Go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven". And then your heart will be at rest, and you will be free to follow what I am offering you. "THEN COME, FOLLOW ME".
What did these words mean to the young man? Did he realize he wasn't really saving himself by trying to look good, to please his own ego? I think Jesus cut him to the heart with these words. Impossible to follow, and that was precisely the point. The word of God is life, and obeying the commandments was to give life to the people, but here before Him stood the Word incarnate, offering him life, and the man couldn't accept it. He grew to trust his own efforts to the point he could not accept the grace of God.
It was an offer of a life with no security for tomorrow, an offer that defies all logic and experience, a burden that is light one day and seems impossible to bear for five more minutes another day. They will spit in your face and throw you out of the synagogue you love so much - and I will ask you to love them and forgive them from the heart. There is no certainty and no effort of yours you can rely upon - because every step will seem impossible until you actually make it. And what is worst of all - in the depths of your heart you know this is the only thing you need...
The young man went away sorrowful. I am imagining the insane situation of him selling all his posessions and running joyfully after Jesus, to embark on a life of a penniless vagabond, and later a martyr. But there is one important word here - JOYFULLY.
As one anonymous man wrote, I thought if I didn't indulge my habit, I would die. And when it turned out that I didn't die, I was shocked to find out it was possible to live without it. But he never would have found out, would he, unless he denied himself the very thing that held him captive... And I think it is only when someone dares to let go that they find out what it means to live by grace. Is it easy? Oh no, it is the most difficult thing in the world! And the worst part is that you have to do it daily :-) :-) :-)
It is as if I saw with my own eyes the rich young man who approaches Jesus and asks him what does he have to DO to have eternal life. Why is Jesus so dismissive, why doesn't He reveal Himself? The young man's question echoes another question from John 6, when the people asked Jesus - what MUST WE DO to do the works of God? Remember His reply, "This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent."
To the young man, Jesus replies that only God is good. He doesn't say anything about faith, but he urges him to keep the commandments. This is a paradox in what I see to be a teaching on the grace of God as opposed to futile human efforts. The paradox is somewhat illogical because, when the young man says that he has already been keeping the commandments, Jesus suddenly makes an outrageous proposition. But God is above our logic. And Jesus saw right through the young man's self-righteousness. Not that he didn't work in the Father's vineyard - Jesus didn't denigrade his efforts. But the young man's salvation lies with Jesus and He is right there - His Lord and His God...
This time, when I was reading these passages, I noticed the young man's question, "what do I still need to DO?" He seems to be aware he lacks something, there is a longing he cannot satisfy by his undoubtedly moral and exemplary life. I think Jesus's eyes were softly smiling when He was saying "Go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven". And then your heart will be at rest, and you will be free to follow what I am offering you. "THEN COME, FOLLOW ME".
What did these words mean to the young man? Did he realize he wasn't really saving himself by trying to look good, to please his own ego? I think Jesus cut him to the heart with these words. Impossible to follow, and that was precisely the point. The word of God is life, and obeying the commandments was to give life to the people, but here before Him stood the Word incarnate, offering him life, and the man couldn't accept it. He grew to trust his own efforts to the point he could not accept the grace of God.
It was an offer of a life with no security for tomorrow, an offer that defies all logic and experience, a burden that is light one day and seems impossible to bear for five more minutes another day. They will spit in your face and throw you out of the synagogue you love so much - and I will ask you to love them and forgive them from the heart. There is no certainty and no effort of yours you can rely upon - because every step will seem impossible until you actually make it. And what is worst of all - in the depths of your heart you know this is the only thing you need...
The young man went away sorrowful. I am imagining the insane situation of him selling all his posessions and running joyfully after Jesus, to embark on a life of a penniless vagabond, and later a martyr. But there is one important word here - JOYFULLY.
As one anonymous man wrote, I thought if I didn't indulge my habit, I would die. And when it turned out that I didn't die, I was shocked to find out it was possible to live without it. But he never would have found out, would he, unless he denied himself the very thing that held him captive... And I think it is only when someone dares to let go that they find out what it means to live by grace. Is it easy? Oh no, it is the most difficult thing in the world! And the worst part is that you have to do it daily :-) :-) :-)
Saturday, 15 August 2009
I rejoiced when I heard them say - let us go up to the mountain of the Lord...
It is amazing how time flies. Four and a half months from now I will be leaving for Jerusalem. A pilgrimage in a way, yes. And God willing, something more than that. A desert, perhaps? Or a land of milk and honey? I don't know... The only thing that is certain - if I get there, that is - I will not be a tourist. Not a sightseer. I will be living for three months in a convent in a Muslim quarter of the Old City, trying to feel it with my skin and see it with my eyes - and describe it with my words.
I have been preparing for this for two years. I'm not 18 anymore, so I can't just grab my two bags with all my belongings and take the first bus out of here, as I used to. There are loans, and jobs, and stuff, and bills... Endless array of things to arrange. Sometimes I wonder if I have fallen prey to what I was trying to escape -materialism, love of things, being stuck in one place full of expensive crystal and never knowing what life really is about. I am going to Jerusalem to find out.
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." Mark Twain
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