Showing posts with label Mercy as Hospitality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mercy as Hospitality. Show all posts

20 July 2018

On Being Called to Both Solitude and Hospitality (Reprise)

Last Monday's gospel lection was, I believe, one of the pivotal texts which explain and ground the hermit's esteem for and paradoxical sense of having a call to both solitude and hospitality. It also serves as an illustration of every Christian's need to ground ministry in prayer including solitary prayer and to allow prayer to overflow in active ministry which is a gift of self to all. The text was Matthew's story where Jesus, upon hearing of the death of John the Baptist, retires to the desert to be alone with God. He is pursued by hungry crowds --- hungry on so many levels; he is moved by pity for their needs and ministers to them. Eventually his disciples approach, remind him of the coming darkness and ask Jesus to "dismiss" the crowds so they may return to the village to obtain food for supper. Jesus says there is no need to dismiss them and asks his disciples to bring the scant provisions they have on hand to him. What follows is a Eucharistic meal. Christ feeds the crowds with bread and fishes he multiplies, but he also very clearly feeds them with himself --- abundantly; he pours himself out in this way and gives the gift of himself and the fruits of his relationship with God even when his own need for solitude (time with his Abba) may have been primary.

While Jesus' grief may have been a significant part of his turn to solitude (the texts don't actually indicate this) the evangelist clearly wants us to see this time as another instance in which Jesus' own call to minister --- to be emptied of self, to be broken open and to pour himself out for others as an expression of his unique relationship with his Father --- is discerned and acted out in the world without hesitation. For hermits for whom the demands of solitude and hospitality are inextricably wed, this lection is both encouraging and quite challenging; though they must both be observed and cannot easily be teased apart, in this lection hospitality (or active ministry) assumes apparent priority over solitude. What I think we must see, however, is that Jesus' solitary suffering (grief, loneliness) and relationship with his Father (prayer) together bring him to a compassion which is the basis of his entire ministry. It is the foundation of his complete gift of self to and for the world given without conditions or limits while it also defines the very character of this ministry. Matthew says Jesus is moved by pity for the needs of these others. At the heart of everything Jesus is and does is a compassionate, other-centered drive to mercy -- a mercy which is from and of God.

Solitude Empowers Our Paradoxical Gift of Self::

Authentic solitude empowers a kind of presence, an openness to others and their needs which our own needs do not impede much less dictate. In other words it empowers an other-centeredness which welcomes on their own terms those who come to us seeking "a word". Eremitical solitude is the context for listening and thus welcoming with one's heart. It empowers this and, at least for a time, allows one to set one's own needs and concerns aside in order to listen carefully to the mind and heart of the other who has sought us out. It is only when one has really heard these others that one can respond in a way which is truly inspired. More, really hearing the other IS the inspired response. In the literature of the Desert Fathers and Mothers hermits visited their elders in search of "a Word". What they were in search of though is not some abstract bit of eremitical wisdom, not necessarily what is most important to the elder, for instance, or the insight or principle s/he most treasures or is known for; instead they seek an answer to the questions or yearnings of their own hearts and the elder draws on his or her own experience to provide just the right "Word". "The Word" is a symbol of the seeker being truly heard.

But here is where is gets a little tricky too. Solitude prepares one to give oneself in an openness which is capable of embracing and holding the needs and even the very self of the other --- and quite often this embracing or holding (as noted with hearing above) IS the very thing the person seeking one out really needs. It is incredibly paradoxical that a hermit's solitude (time alone with God for the sake of others) prepares and even calls for hospitality --- especially such a radical hospitality --- but that is the truth which hermits have seen from the very first moment they sought God in the wilderness. When, for instance, we spend time in quiet prayer we open ourselves to God in a way which allows him free reign (and free rein!). In my own prayer I empty myself of discrete expectations, specific desires, wishes, and even hopes, and simply give over my heart and mind to God to dwell in (to know!) and to touch in whatever way God wills. This means he will plumb the depths of every thought, desire, wish, yearning, impulse, and hope I have, every potentiality, every fear and defense, every openness to life or obstacle to it. I pour out my mind and heart to God by emptying myself of these as things I ordinarily grasp so that God himself can explore and embrace them even more exhaustively with his love and mercy. I let go of these individual realities so that God may grasp and transform me. And so it is with hospitality.

When someone seeks me out they are rarely really looking for the "diocesan hermit" or the "theologian" or even the "spiritual director" --- though all of these dimensions of myself may be of help in one way and another and may also be the ostensible reason someone comes to me. Most fundamentally though they are looking for the person who may also BE these things. What I also mean in saying this is that they are not primarily seeking me out for MY sake --- so that I may BE a diocesan hermit or theologian or spiritual director, etc. They are seeking me out so that THEY may BE themselves. They are seeking a place, a sacred space created not only by the hermitage's silence but more especially by a heart and mind that are open to them and to all they need, yearn and hope for. They are seeking me out in the hope that I can truly set myself aside for the time being and make them "at home."  And some hermits or directors or other ministers may forget this; it is a tragic error when they do.

To the extent I can set myself aside so that those who seek me out may be at home, to the extent my time in solitude has prepared me rightly, to the extent I can become transparent to God rather than being about "being a hermit" or a "contemplative", or merely giving "spiritual advice" or instructing the person ABOUT God, to this extent they will be fed and nourished, held, healed, and freshly commissioned to transform the world with God's love far beyond anything I might be capable of empowering myself in any of my usual "roles" or "competencies". That is the hospitality hermits and contemplatives offer others: the hospitality of selflessness and an open heart and mind which are all transparent to God and are formed and nourished in eremitical solitude. Only then will our own competencies and specific gifts be really helpful and the specific "Words" we might be able to say to the person be truly helpful.

Monday's Gospel Text Again:

So Jesus went apart to spend time with his Abba and people sought him out; Jesus, moved with pity, ministered to them. These two impulses, to solitude and to hospitality are inextricably related in Jesus' life and in the life of contemporary hermits --- just as they are in the great commandment. Are there dangers to be avoided, confusions and misunderstandings which are common and must be corrected or avoided? Yes, absolutely --- and it is important for hermits to live disciplined lives while reflecting on and sometimes even writing about these. But solitude and hospitality are two sides of the same coin and we never have one without the other. Nor can one hand another person only one side of a coin. It is the whole coin or it is nothing at all.  Recently I read a blog post which said essentially: [[ If the folks who turn to me, even those who are concerned with how I myself am doing, don't want to hear a message from a hermit about Christianity or the spiritual insights I have gleaned from my mystical experiences, then let them leave me alone!]]

Additional comments gave me a sense that the blogger believed the people turning to Jesus were doing so for petty (merely "temporal") reasons and interrupting Jesus' prayer and solitude for a bit of trivial "conversation". In all of this I was reminded of some soup kitchens where people in real need and hungry on so many levels were  promised a meagre bowl of soup and sandwich only if they listened to a bad preacher with his pre-packaged spiel ABOUT (his version of) Jesus. And I wondered if those ministering to the folks in the soup kitchen realized what those folks really needed was a decent meal in which they encountered God in Christ as someone who shared their table and was truly vulnerable to them. Was there a minister present asking to eat with or have a cup of coffee with them in order to really be WITH and hear THEM? To make neighbors of them? To really love them as a revelation of God? Because of the soup kitchen's focus on pre-packaged messages ABOUT Jesus -- or the blogger's focus on her insights and spiritual "gifts"? I sincerely doubt it.

But the truth is if we are truly hermits (or contemplatives or Christians of whatever stripe or role) then, relatively rare though these encounters may be, it is in meeting us as persons healed and enlivened by a love which makes us truly open and vulnerable that another will meet and hear God in us, not in lectures, or "edifying accounts of mystical experiences" or a litany of spiritual principles and lessons gleaned in a selfish solitude. We meet God in the silence of solitude so that others may meet God in and through us. Even more, we meet God in the silence of solitude so that we may ALSO clearly recognize and reveal God in the other who needs us to do this. It is not the easy way; it is personally costly and thus it is neither bloodless nor without risk, but it is the way of Jesus, and the way of both monastic and eremitical solitude and hospitality.

06 August 2016

Monday's Gospel and the Hermit's Call to Hospitality

Last Monday's gospel lection was, I believe, one of the pivotal texts which explain and ground the hermit's esteem for and paradoxical sense of having a call to both solitude and hospitality. It also serves as an illustration of every Christian's need to ground ministry in prayer including solitary prayer and to allow prayer to overflow in active ministry which is a gift of self to all. The text was Matthew's story where Jesus, upon hearing of the death of John the Baptist, retires to the desert to be alone with God. He is pursued by hungry crowds --- hungry on so many levels; he is moved by pity for their needs and ministers to them. Eventually his disciples approach, remind him of the coming darkness and ask Jesus to "dismiss" the crowds so they may return to the village to obtain food for supper. Jesus says there is no need to dismiss them and asks his disciples to bring the scant provisions they have on hand to him. What follows is a Eucharistic meal. Christ feeds the crowds with bread and fishes he multiplies, but he also very clearly feeds them with himself --- abundantly; he pours himself out in this way and gives the gift of himself and the fruits of his relationship with God even when his own need for solitude (time with his Abba) may have been primary.

While Jesus' grief may have been a significant part of his turn to solitude (the texts don't actually indicate this) the evangelist clearly wants us to see this time as another instance in which Jesus' own call to minister --- to be emptied of self, to be broken open and to pour himself out for others as an expression of his unique relationship with his Father --- is discerned and acted out in the world without hesitation. For hermits for whom the demands of solitude and hospitality are inextricably wed, this lection is both encouraging and quite challenging; though they must both be observed and cannot easily be teased apart, in this lection hospitality (or active ministry) assumes apparent priority over solitude. What I think we must see, however, is that Jesus' solitary suffering (grief, loneliness) and relationship with his Father (prayer) together bring him to a compassion which is the basis of his entire ministry. It is the foundation of his complete gift of self to and for the world given without conditions or limits while it also defines the very character of this ministry. Matthew says Jesus is moved by pity for the needs of these others. At the heart of everything Jesus is and does is a compassionate, other-centered drive to mercy -- a mercy which is from and of God.

Solitude Empowers Our Paradoxical Gift of Self::

Authentic solitude empowers a kind of presence, an openness to others and their needs which our own needs do not impede much less dictate. In other words it empowers an other-centeredness which welcomes on their own terms those who come to us seeking "a word". Eremitical solitude is the context for listening and thus welcoming with one's heart. It empowers this and, at least for a time, allows one to set one's own needs and concerns aside in order to listen carefully to the mind and heart of the other who has sought us out. It is only when one has really heard these others that one can respond in a way which is truly inspired. More, really hearing the other IS the inspired response. In the literature of the Desert Fathers and Mothers hermits visited their elders in search of "a Word". What they were in search of though is not some abstract bit of eremitical wisdom, not necessarily what is most important to the elder, for instance, or the insight or principle s/he most treasures or is known for; instead they seek an answer to the questions or yearnings of their own hearts and the elder draws on his or her own experience to provide just the right "Word". "The Word" is a symbol of the seeker being truly heard.

But here is where is gets a little tricky too. Solitude prepares one to give oneself in an openness which is capable of embracing and holding the needs and even the very self of the other --- and quite often this embracing or holding (as noted with hearing above) IS the very thing the person seeking one out really needs. It is incredibly paradoxical that a hermit's solitude (time alone with God for the sake of others) prepares and even calls for hospitality --- especially such a radical hospitality --- but that is the truth which hermits have seen from the very first moment they sought God in the wilderness. When, for instance, we spend time in quiet prayer we open ourselves to God in a way which allows him free reign (and free rein!). In my own prayer I empty myself of discrete expectations, specific desires, wishes, and even hopes, and simply give over my heart and mind to God to dwell in (to know!) and to touch in whatever way God wills. This means he will plumb the depths of every thought, desire, wish, yearning, impulse, and hope I have, every potentiality, every fear and defense, every openness to life or obstacle to it. I pour out my mind and heart to God by emptying myself of these as things I ordinarily grasp so that God himself can explore and embrace them even more exhaustively with his love and mercy. I let go of these individual realities so that God may grasp and transform me. And so it is with hospitality.

When someone seeks me out they are rarely really looking for the "diocesan hermit" or the "theologian" or even the "spiritual director" --- though all of these dimensions of myself may be of help in one way and another and may also be the ostensible reason someone comes to me. Most fundamentally though they are looking for the person who may also BE these things. What I also mean in saying this is that they are not primarily seeking me out for MY sake --- so that I may BE a diocesan hermit or theologian or spiritual director, etc. They are seeking me out so that THEY may BE themselves. They are seeking a place, a sacred space created not only by the hermitage's silence but more especially by a heart and mind that are open to them and to all they need, yearn and hope for. They are seeking me out in the hope that I can truly set myself aside for the time being and make them "at home."  And some hermits or directors or other ministers may forget this; it is a tragic error when they do.

To the extent I can set myself aside so that those who seek me out may be at home, to the extent my time in solitude has prepared me rightly, to the extent I can become transparent to God rather than being about "being a hermit" or a "contemplative", or merely giving "spiritual advice" or instructing the person ABOUT God, to this extent they will be fed and nourished, held, healed, and freshly commissioned to transform the world with God's love far beyond anything I might be capable of empowering myself in any of my usual "roles" or "competencies". That is the hospitality hermits and contemplatives offer others: the hospitality of selflessness and an open heart and mind which are all transparent to God and are formed and nourished in eremitical solitude. Only then will our own competencies and specific gifts be really helpful and the specific "Words" we might be able to say to the person be truly helpful.

Monday's Gospel Text Again:

So Jesus went apart to spend time with his Abba and people sought him out; Jesus, moved with pity, ministered to them. These two impulses, to solitude and to hospitality are inextricably related in Jesus' life and in the life of contemporary hermits --- just as they are in the great commandment. Are there dangers to be avoided, confusions and misunderstandings which are common and must be corrected or avoided? Yes, absolutely --- and it is important for hermits to live disciplined lives while reflecting on and sometimes even writing about these. But solitude and hospitality are two sides of the same coin and we never have one without the other. Nor can one hand another person only one side of a coin. It is the whole coin or it is nothing at all.  Recently I read a blog post which said essentially: [[ If the folks who turn to me, even those who are concerned with how I myself am doing, don't want to hear a message from a hermit about Christianity or the spiritual insights I have gleaned from my mystical experiences, then let them leave me alone!]]

Additional comments gave me a sense that the blogger believed the people turning to Jesus were doing so for petty (merely "temporal") reasons and interrupting Jesus' prayer and solitude for a bit of trivial "conversation". In all of this I was reminded of some soup kitchens where people in real need and hungry on so many levels were  promised a meagre bowl of soup and sandwich only if they listened to a bad preacher with his pre-packaged spiel ABOUT (his version of) Jesus. And I wondered if those ministering to the folks in the soup kitchen realized what those folks really needed was a decent meal in which they encountered God in Christ as someone who shared their table and was truly vulnerable to them. Was there a minister present asking to eat with or have a cup of coffee with them in order to really be WITH and hear THEM? To make neighbors of them? To really love them as a revelation of God? Because of the soup kitchen's focus on pre-packaged messages ABOUT Jesus -- or the blogger's focus on her insights and spiritual "gifts"? I sincerely doubt it.

But the truth is if we are truly hermits (or contemplatives or Christians of whatever stripe or role) then, relatively rare though these encounters may be, it is in meeting us as persons healed and enlivened by a love which makes us truly open and vulnerable that another will meet and hear God in us, not in lectures, or "edifying accounts of mystical experiences" or a litany of spiritual principles and lessons gleaned in a selfish solitude. We meet God in the silence of solitude so that others may meet God in and through us. Even more, we meet God in the silence of solitude so that we may ALSO clearly recognize and reveal God in the other who needs us to do this. It is not the easy way; it is personally costly and thus it is neither bloodless nor without risk, but it is the way of Jesus, and the way of both monastic and eremitical solitude and hospitality.

13 July 2014

Feast of St Benedict: Hospitality as a Synonym for Mercy

When, while reflecting on Friday's readings two years ago, I told the story of the Nickel Mines massacre, I mainly focused on the theme of forgiveness and how it is that the Amish were capable of forgiving Roberts and also extending that forgiveness to his widow and larger family. When Matthew tells us not to worry about what we are to say in such crises because the Holy Spirit will  provide us with whatever that is, it reminded me of the Amish practice of forgiving routinely, consciously living from the Gospel, and thereby creating habits of the heart which do indeed enable them (and us) to speak and act as Christians empowered by the Holy Spirit in even such terrible situations. My point two years ago was that we are called as Christians to hand on the Gospel of reconciliation and the Amish show us vividly what that means.

But those daily readings have to do with more than just forgiving those who hurt us. Again and again references are made to a richer or broader concept than forgiveness as we ordinarily understand it. That broader concept, that reality is the mercy of God. As I reflected and meditated on these readings I was reminded once again of how inadequate our common notion of mercy actually is. Too often we see it as "letting someone off the hook" or as "the opposite (or at least the mitigation) of justice." Too often I have the impression we see mercy as a form of sentimentalism or weakness and we say that God's mercy must be balanced by his justice (or vice versa).  But Pope Francis, Walter Cardinal Kasper and others (including myself in some of the things I have written here) are clear that God's mercy is his justice. It is in being merciful that God sets things right and establishes a Kingdom (a Divine realm of sovereign empowerment) we can hardly imagine. Friday's readings along with the tragedy at Nickel Mines help us understand how that is the case.

Each of the readings speaks of forgiveness but they also convey the more expansive and challenging idea that when God is merciful it means that he gives us a place to belong, a place in his own life, a place where we are safe and free to be ourselves, a place which is free from fear and where vulnerability is not a dangerous to us but is an altogether (if still risky) human and normal reality.  When God forgives it means God extends his mercy to those who are sinners, those who are strangers or aliens, those who have offended him and injured those most precious to God (including themselves!). After all a sinner is one who quite literally has made herself alien to God, a stranger whom God does not know in that intimate Biblical sense of the term. In each of the readings there are references to being offered such a place, being made to be other than orphans or sinners, being shown compassion and having a place in God's own life.

In the Gospel lection Matt is dealing with a community being torn apart because of the new faith; it is a community in which the people are asked to continue to proclaim the Good News in the face of all opposition and to offer mercy and make neighbors and even family of strangers and aliens on a level which was not common otherwise. Both the Nickle Mines Amish and St Benedict, whose Feast day was yesterday, help us to understand this mercy in terms of doing justice and making the world a different place -- the world of neighbors, not aliens. The word that ties all three dimensions together, forgiveness, mercy as offering people a place to truly belong, as well as the stories of the Amish and St Benedict, is hospitality. What I came to see in reflecting on the readings, the original story of Nickle Mines and my own Benedictine Tradition is that hospitality and mercy stand as synonyms in the Christian Tradition.

In the Nickle Mines massacre the Amish offered forgiveness almost immediately and I told that story two years ago. But there was more to the story, more that I did not know until I read the book, Amish Grace. Forgiveness would have allowed the participants in that story to move forward without holding grudges. It would have allowed a more or less easy peace with the world of the "English" and especially with Robert's (the gunman's) wife, children, and larger family. But this was not sufficient for the Amish. They literally welcomed the gunman's family into their lives. Not only did they allow Robert's wife and mother to visit the victims regularly, but, as I may have noted, his Mother came weekly to the most badly injured child and read to her, sang to her and sometimes bathed her. Robert's parents held pool parties for the children and had teas for the parents. They were welcome in one another's homes. Indeed the Amish children were reported to have said to Robert's Mom, you haven't come to read or sing to us yet; when will you come and visit us? Everyone involved spoke of "the new normal" they had to get used to --- there was no going back to the way it was or pretending it had not happened! But additionally, they worked hard to create a "new normal" in which strangers became neighbors and neighbors became family. In short, they showed mercy as well as forgiveness and changed the nature of their world for everyone involved.

It is more than a little appropriate then that the Church asks us to revisit these readings and I choose to revisit this story on the feast of St Benedict. Benedictines know that hospitality is a key virtue and very high value in the Christian life. In the Rule of St Benedict we are reminded that everyone who comes to our door is to be treated as Christ. All monasteries have guesthouses and most do a wonderful job of accommodating guests as they would Christ himself. But hospitality is about more than providing someone a place to sleep or a seat and plate at our table. It is about learning to see the face of an individual in place of that of the stranger; it is about overcoming the stereotypes and bigotry that are parts of our own hearts and ways of seeing reality. It is about facing the fears within us that are triggered by our encounters with those who are different than we are and in so doing, making of the world a place which is truly more just and safer for everyone. To be merciful to another is to do the same. It is to allow them a place in our lives, yes, but even more it means to let them into our hearts.

When the young man asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus doesn't point to any single group. Instead, he tells the story of the good Samaritan, the quintessential alien who cares for a man (an enemy) who has been mugged and who then ensures that "enemy's" future care at a local inn as well.  Neighbors, Jesus tells us in this way, are simply strangers we do not allow to remain strangers. They are strangers whom we allow to genuinely belong in our own lives and world, aliens we make at home. In Jesus' parable, the Samaritan makes a neighbor of a stranger while the religious leaders who are this man's neighbors treat him as an alien and make a stranger of him. The Samaritan makes of the world a place that is a bit safer and looks a bit different to the man who was mugged. Of course, it takes preparation and practice to do such dramatically compassionate acts. The Amish practice forgiveness and mercy/hospitality every day of their lives. In this regard at least, their hearts were readied in a significant way for the crisis that befell that awful day in Nickel Mines, PA. When Jesus/Matt tells the community not to worry about what they are to say on their own day of crisis he points to the Holy Spirit who will speak through them --- if, that is, their own hearts are readied as well.

My prayer this day is that each of us will look at the ways in which we fail to have mercy, fail to offer hospitality, fail to make a neighbor of the stranger, choose to remain aliens, or to treat others thusly and act in some way to change those things. For God, having mercy and offering a place in his own life is the same thing. It is in loving that God mercifully does justice and makes the world a hospitable place. May we draw these realities a little closer together in our own minds, hearts, and lives as well --- and may our world be made more merciful, more hospitable, and more just in the process. I also pray especially for those Dominican Sisters in Iraq who have made it their own mission to make neighbors of the stranger and to break down the stereotypes and walls of bigotry (especially religious bigotry!) that keep their world broken by alienation and hostility. May our own efforts at hospitality be the Christian response and counter movement and dynamic to hostility. (cf also The Homeless Jesus)