Father Laird describes the ideal contentment that can be gained through prayer: “The practice of contemplation does not acquire for us some thing. Contemplative practice proceeds by way of the engaged receptivity of release, of prying loose, of letting go of the need to have our life circumstances be a certain way in order for us to live or pray or be deeply happy.”
Contemplation trains us by grace to release, to surrender, to rest no matter what our present circumstances. The Apostle explains this contentment by saying, “for me to live is Christ and to die is gain.” I’ve known this passage from Philippians 2 for many, many years, yet this form of contentment has seemed unrealistic and unattainable. The writings of Fr Laird give us a path forward to move into and to dwell within this silent land, this sunlit absence, or his the metaphor of his third book, this ocean of light.
If you struggle to imagine this kind growth today, you are not alone. It’s been a struggle for me too.
My own struggle to pray during this time of shelter in place reveals that I am not yet firmly anchored in a contemplative practice, not as anchored as I thought I was. I am aware of my need for times of quiet trust to sit patiently in God’s presence, yet contemplation is not yet where my attention is drawn. It is not my first or even my second instinct.
First, I think of food. Second, I think of entertainment, the internet. Third, I think of sleep….and so on.
Since the beginning of quarantine in March, my days have less and less structure and discipline. I confess I attend to contemplation irregularly. Yet gracefully, I’m aware of the consequences of my lack. I’m not blindly or naively ignorant of what is missing. The question here after making a confession, is how we cooperate with grace. When we stray from Jesus as our first love, we should feel the sting of conviction. However, there is no condemnation for those of us who are in Jesus. The Holy Spirit does not respond to our confession with shame.
Shame is the vocabulary of our dark enemies. Shame is the fruit of our false ego. If I pretend to be something I am not, falling short of that false self will unleash all kinds of demonic voices of empty, fruitless guilt, a guilt that causes us to hide from God. The false guilt causes us to quit our prayer.
Instead, again by grace, I delight to consider how much further removed from hope, love, and God’s presence if I did not already have years of prayer practice, if I didn’t already have my irregular prayer. I recall the delight of the prayer and am inspired to return.
No matter where you are in your prayer this summer, you have not wandered too far away. Prayer is always an invitation to return and to begin again.
“Come let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds.” Hosea 6:1
Part IX of our journey through Fr Martin Laird's A Sunlit Absence takes us into chapter four which is also titled, "A Sunlit Absence." This is the thickest and most challenging chapter of the book, so before diving into chapter four I spend ample time reviewing why we are bothering with contemplation especially in our present, painful time of pandemic and political strife.
The pursuit of contemplative practice is at times bewildering and challenging, but with patience and persistence we will gain the reward of God's presence and friendship.
Below is an assortment of other sections of chapter four for your prayer and consideration.
Peace & Love to you! Amen,
Josh
“The soul is vast, spacious, plentiful. This amplitude is impossible to exaggerate. The Sun at the center of this place radiates to every part.” St Teresa of Avila
This vast inner space, an abyss, is completely open and porous to God. “Indeed Lord, to your eyes, the abyss of human consciousness is naked.” St. Augustine
Awareness, consciousness, watchfulness is this vast inner space radiating everywhere. It is not an object rather all objects, physical objects or internal objects like thoughts and feelings they appear and disappear in this awareness, a “sunlit absence.” To adapt Seamus Heaney, always luminous but never quite pinned down. This sunlit absence suffuses and embraces all as open to the luminous ground, as air to light. “In your light Lord, we see light.” Ps 36:10
St Hesychios identifies three moments in this process in which awareness becomes increasingly ungrasping, expansive, and luminous. “While we are being strengthened in Christ Jesus and beginning to move forward in steadfast watchfulness, he at first appears in our intellect like a torch which, when grasped by the hand of the intellect, guides us along the track of the mind. Then he appears to us like a full moon circling the heart’s firmament. Then he appears to us like the sun, radiating justice, clearly revealing himself in the full light of spiritual vision.”
Watch a video invitation to this new series