I sometimes think that Descartes was responsible for a lot of the evil in the world - I don't believe he intentionally put us on this path, but I do believe that he set something in motion a few hundred years ago which has resulted in the all pervasive notion in the West that the individual is at the centre of everything. (actually I think that personal computers and mobile phones are a direct consequence of Descartes!); he was very much a man of faith, schooled by the Jesuits, (the order founded by St Ignatius) - but the statement "I think, therefore I am" has pervaded our western culture and sensibilities to such an extent that we have exalted the individual above all, to the detriment of seeing ourselves more widely connected and responsible as part of a larger "community".
Reading the gospels I'm ever more aware of the cultural differences between ourselves today in the west and the experience of Jesus in the middle east at the beginning of the 1st century. We've lost something of what it is like to live in community to be aware of "the other".
Reflecting more on my last post about what we can do to live in a way that is much more concerned for and orientated towards others, I came across a story related by Mother Teresa;
"I will never forget the night an old gentleman came to our house and said that there was a family with 8 children and they had not eaten, and could we do something for them? So I took some rice and went there. The mother took the rice from my hands and then divided it into 2 and went out. I could see the faces of the children shining with hunger.When she came back I asked her where she had gone. She gave me a very simple answer: "They are hungry also". And "they" were the family next door and she knew they were hungry. I was not surprised that she gave, but I was surprised that she knew...I had not the courage to ask her how long her family hadn't eaten, but I was sure it must have been a long time, and yet she knew - in her suffering...In her terrible bodily suffering, she knew that next door they were hungry also."
The African theologian replies to Descartes - "I am, because we are."
Jesus taught us to pray "Give us this day our daily bread" - the prayer is for our bread, it includes our neighbours.
Kenneth E Bailey writes;
"Bread is a gift. the one who prays this prayer affirms that all bread comes as a gift. It is not a right and we have not created it. Such gifts are in trust for the one who gives them. All material possessions are on loan from their owner; the God who created matter itself. This perspective on the material world is critical for the joyful life commended in the gospels."
Monday, 15 February 2010
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Imaginative Contemplation
One of the features of Ignatian spirituality is imaginative contemplation. To use the imagination in contemplating scripture is to turn the stories of Jesus into an experience. It is about the "application of the senses" to a passage. By picturing our self in the scene and by listening and looking we find ourselves touched and changed from the encounter.
It's not that we let our imaginations run wild, but rather we enter into the passage with the guidance of the Holy Spirit and allow him to speak to us and show us something new or surprising; something which speaks to our heart or emotions. I find this a challenge as I'm very drawn to the cerebral - to thinking and using my mind, to applying my intellect. But Ignatius encourages us to allow God to speak to us in our inner most being. The journey is an interior one.
One of the passages I was meditating on a few weeks ago was the passage where Joseph is warned in the middle of the night to get up and take the child and his mother and flee. To feel the emotion of the situation, to enter into the fear, to the sense of having to leave everything in the dark of the night and flee for your life and the life of your child; to go to a strange land. And to then to enter into the passages about the children being slaughtered, the horror, the anguish, the grief, the disbelief; Joseph's fear on returning from Egypt, to learn that the land was now ruled by the son of the man who was seeking to murder your child.
The feelings have stayed with me for these past weeks - it's almost as if there is a residue.
I was thinking about the fact that in many, many places in the world people live like this all the time. They have no security, they are fearful for their children, they live in countries where the government is corrupt and their lives are insecure, not knowing what will happen next, displaced and hopeless.
And I was reading psalm 147 which says
And I am so conscious of how blessed we are in this country. We might moan about the weather, or the rubbish on telly, or the the traffic driving to work. But we really don't understand how blessed we are. We are secure, well fed, our children are educated and have so many opportunities; and most of the time we are not even conscious of it.
How do we Christians in the West live in a way that really makes a difference to the poor and displaced and fearful and that also fully comprehends how incredibly blessed we are?
It's not that we let our imaginations run wild, but rather we enter into the passage with the guidance of the Holy Spirit and allow him to speak to us and show us something new or surprising; something which speaks to our heart or emotions. I find this a challenge as I'm very drawn to the cerebral - to thinking and using my mind, to applying my intellect. But Ignatius encourages us to allow God to speak to us in our inner most being. The journey is an interior one.
One of the passages I was meditating on a few weeks ago was the passage where Joseph is warned in the middle of the night to get up and take the child and his mother and flee. To feel the emotion of the situation, to enter into the fear, to the sense of having to leave everything in the dark of the night and flee for your life and the life of your child; to go to a strange land. And to then to enter into the passages about the children being slaughtered, the horror, the anguish, the grief, the disbelief; Joseph's fear on returning from Egypt, to learn that the land was now ruled by the son of the man who was seeking to murder your child.
The feelings have stayed with me for these past weeks - it's almost as if there is a residue.
I was thinking about the fact that in many, many places in the world people live like this all the time. They have no security, they are fearful for their children, they live in countries where the government is corrupt and their lives are insecure, not knowing what will happen next, displaced and hopeless.
And I was reading psalm 147 which says
He has made your city secure,
He blessed your children among you,
He keeps peace at your borders;
He puts the best bread on your tables.
And I am so conscious of how blessed we are in this country. We might moan about the weather, or the rubbish on telly, or the the traffic driving to work. But we really don't understand how blessed we are. We are secure, well fed, our children are educated and have so many opportunities; and most of the time we are not even conscious of it.
How do we Christians in the West live in a way that really makes a difference to the poor and displaced and fearful and that also fully comprehends how incredibly blessed we are?
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