Skip to main content

True Spiritual Work

“...by the work of contemplative love man will be healed.”


The Cloud of Unknowing


It is work, there should be no mistake about that. One of my biggest misconceptions about the spiritual life--before I actually started living it--was that it shouldn’t involve much effort. Even prayer, which I understood I should be doing regularly, I didn’t think of as work. What “work” I did conceive to be part of spiritual living was more along the lines of a to-do list: read scripture, attend regular religious services, pray. If I checked these things off the list often enough, I was doing alright. If I didn’t, I wasn’t. I had no idea of what true spiritual work looks like--the work of meditation, for instance, in which I try every day to train my unruly mind to attend to the thoughts I choose. Or the work of forgiveness, that searching, humbling effort to see myself in the one I resent, or at least to see that their hurtful actions come, as mine do, from ignorance or busyness or fatigue and not badness. This work is good work. It is, as the author says, healing work. And it takes all the effort we can muster.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Heart of Religion

Yesterday I read a short reflection in Plough  magazine about a woman who, according to the author, "was a neighbor...to every person who crossed her path." This woman's example impressed on me the idea that the sources of one's devotion--religious doctrine, methods of prayer and meditation, forms of worship, theological convictions--are peripheral to the work of love to which all human beings are called. One implication of this idea is that if my particular form of devotion is not making me a better neighbor (or parent or partner or friend or community member), then it is not worth pursuing. I am reminded of Jesus's Parable of the Good Samaritan , narrated in the Gospel of Luke. Part of the point of that parable is that the good Samaritan was a Samaritan , and not a Jew. The source of his devotion, his religious milieu, differed greatly from that of Jesus and his listeners. Yet Jesus insisted that this religious outsider grasped the heart of religion more clearly...

Cultural vs. Divine Love

I heard a short sermon once in which the preacher said something to the effect that eternal life was equivalent to knowing God. It brought to mind what John says in his first epistle to the early Christian church: the proof that we know God is that we love, and love of God is best demonstrated in love for others (I John 4:7-12; 19-21). My takeaway from all this was: eternal life = knowing God = loving God = loving others. I wrote the preacher after the service to share my thoughts. He agreed with my equation and added an important caveat. Since we are all of us creatures of our culture, he said, we tend to understand love the way our culture presents it, which doesn’t necessarily jibe with the reality of the divine love that Jesus--or, I would add, the Buddha, or Sri Ramakrishna, or Swami Ramdas, or Peace Pilgrim--embodied. Because of these competing and often contradictory concepts of love, it is essential that we maintain a healthy self-criticism and not blithely assume that what w...

Books That Have Rescued My Faith

I am reading a moving book by Father Gregory Boyle, a Jesuit priest and founder of Homeboy Industries, which works to educate and employ gang members in Los Angeles. Boyle’s book, Tattoos on the Heart , is a beautiful testament to what the kingdom of God can look like in the twenty-first century. In the book, Boyle sprinkles his heartful stories with quotes from various Christian writers. Reading these quotes, all gathered in one place and in such a spiritually powerful context, I realized how much these same writers have done to rescue Christian faith for me, sometimes gently and sometimes forcefully retrieving it from the confines of the fundamentalist package in which I originally received it and giving it new life and meaning. Yesterday, as I read another of these quotes from Boyle’s book, a surge of gratitude welled up in my chest. I lifted my face and thanked God for these beloved teachers, without whom my relationship with the religion of my childhood, of my culture, would...