[[Dear Sr. Laurel, I have a question that has been nagging at me for some
time. . . . There is one funda-mental slant/ viewpoint/ position/ conception
which may well underlie much of what you say, but nowhere have I yet found it
expressed explicitly, and it is this: what is the value of contemplative
prayer? Why should a life of contemplation, which is open to the hale and
hearty as well as the feeble, aged, sick, sinful, fearful, disabled, and
everybody else, be worth just as much as, say, the builder of homeless shelters,
the missionary, the priest?
An image which speaks to me was called "God's
Transmitters" by Hannah Hurnard, an eccentric but apparently sincere and
certainly devoted lover of God. As I understood her simile, the contemplative
just stands there like an electrical transmitting tower, taking in and sending
out signals. One of the transmitters' most important functions is NOT to move
around and try to accomplish anything. Just being there, by remaining faithful
to its "vocation" as a transmitter, can it do what it was made to do. . . . What do you believe about the per se value of prayer, with no "works" to
accompany it? No publicity, no recognition? The Jewish belief that there are a
certain number of people who hold up the universe just by existing? Moses
"standing in the breach?" This may not make any sense! I'm sorry to
bother you, but this is a fundamental question to me: what is the absolute
value of prayer FOR THE WORLD?]]
Thanks for your comments and questions. I think I have answered this question in part, mainly by talking about why this
vocation is not selfish or by referring to the gift quality genuine solitude is
in a world fraught with isolation and alienation or by writing about the
vividness with which the chronically ill are called to proclaim the Gospel. All
of these are attempts at answering your questions though from differing perspectives or vantage points. The basic answer or the
common thread in each of these is that human beings are truly human only insofar
as they are in relationship with God, and only insofar as they in their weakness
and dependence allow God to be the ultimate source of validation and meaning in
their lives. Contemplative prayer is simply the purest expression of this
dynamic, I think. I guess, as you say, I have just never said that explicitly.Also, in my eremitical world the redemption of isolation and the reconciliation of estrangement is a ministry --- a share in the ministry Christ gave us all to hand on. We do that first of all by being reconciled and witnessing to its possibility at a more foundational level than that of "works" or social justice and pastoral ministries, etc. In a sense then, contemplatives witness to the truth others are trying to proclaim and accomplish in all the standard pastoral ways but they do so at a different or more fundamental level. (I suspect too this is why Religious congregations generally and the Dominicans more explicitly, for instance, describe their ministries or apostolates as rooted in contemplation.) Contemplatives also serve to check on or "criticize" these and any ministries; they encourage or even demand that they really flow from a deeper reality.
Prayer is a work, but primarily it is always and everywhere the work of God. Most
fundamentally it is not a human work at all. For that reason it reminds us that
none of our own works --- no matter how sincere or well-meant --- are the most
essential and absolutely they are never the primary thing. Apostolic or ministerial folks remind us that faith always
issues in works of love and compassion. Contemplatives remind us that faith, which is the state of
being grasped by God's wonder, beauty, truth, love, etc, must ground all ministry.
Hermits go a step further and remind us additionally that our most foundational community is with God
and, paradoxically, that isolation is inhuman and individualism is destructive of
humanity. Additionally of course, contemplatives witness to a number of other values, not least persistence, faithfulness, simplicity, etc. Each of these reflect a continuing, ever-renewed commitment to allow oneself to be loved and to love in response in season and out. It seems to me that a life lived in this way is an immense gift to the world, not least because it witnesses to the great dignity and challenge of the communion we identify as human life.