‘You are not what you do, although you do a lot. You are not what you have collected in terms of friendships and connections, although you might have many. You are not the popularity that you have received. You are not the success of your work. You are not what people say about you, whether they speak well or whether they speak poorly about you. All these things that keep you quite busy, quite occupied, and often quite preoccupied, are not telling the truth about who you are. I am here to remind you in the name of God that you are the beloved daughters and sons of God, and that God says to you, “I have called you from all eternity and you are engraved from all eternity into the palms of my hands. You are mine. You belong to me, and I love you with an everlasting love.”’[1]
How often do we think about being beloved sons or daughters of God? At times, we may doubt, or not even believe, that we are intensely loved by God, especially when everything seems to be going wrong. Occasionally we may feel that we are downright unlovable. When this happens, we must remember that love is much more than a feeling. Feelings easily change. Happiness and sadness come and go. They are like waves on the top of the ocean that depend on the wind, rain and other transitory elements. At the ocean’s depths is a peaceful stillness. In the same way, when we go beneath the surface of life, we can find a peaceful joy that comes from a deep sense of gratitude for God’s love and care. It can be more accessible when we settle down and relax in the deep still recesses of our soul.
The soul has been called the fairest work of God. It is a haven for his loving, living flame, his Triune presence. When trouble comes, we rest in the words of an old hymn: ‘Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side; bear patiently the cross of grief or pain; leave to thy God to order and provide in ev’ry change He faithful will remain.’[2]
The key to opening the door to the beauty of our soul is holiness. How can we keep holiness at the forefront of our lives? Certain guideposts help in this endeavour. Prominent and ever important is being alert to God’s presence, not only in our heart but, as hard as it may be, in every person’s heart, no matter who they are. God is a presence to be recognised. John of the Cross reminds us, ‘The Father spoke one Word, which was his Son, and this Word he speaks ever in eternal silence and in silence must it be heard by the soul’ (SLL 100).[3] It is up to us to be conscious of this. ‘Be still and know that I am God,’ the psalmist says (Psalm 46:10). We need quiet and calm time to think about God’s love.
But how can this be done during the fast-lane society in which we live? There are many things to do, but we must discern what is most important in the light of God’s love. Being reasonably busy is a good thing, but excessive busyness can be self-destructive as it hampers the ability to see who we really are in the eyes of God. Julian of Norwich is quoted as saying, ‘And we will know the One from whom we have come only to the extent that we know ourselves. God is the “ground” of life.’[4] So it is to the very essence of our being that we look for God.
‘In his shadow I sit. To sit means to be quiet. It is a greater thing to rest in his shadow than simply to live in it, just as it is a greater thing to live in it merely than to exist in it.’[5] Spiritual practices help us rest in the shadow of God. If we do not plan time for spiritual practices in our schedule, they just do not happen. With help from God and others, we can replace excessive or popular activities with time-honoured spiritual practices. The transition from a mad rush through transitory activities to an adventuresome hike through the varied landscapes of Christianity can happen at any time and at any age. Augustine of Hippo urges us on as he prays: ‘Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.’[6]
From the Heart
There are many descriptions for the heart: a muscular pump, a habitat for feelings, the wellspring of intimacy, the core of our being, the place we make decisions and, some say, the housing of our soul. A very important description is the dwelling place of God, who is the life-giving source of our spiritual development. Teresa of Avila’s writing style is allegorical by her use of symbolic representations. She is a master of the interior life. In her spiritual classic, The Interior Castle, she describes the spiritual journey as one from the dark, hideous world of sin to the bright splendorous beauty of God at the centre of our being. She tells us: ‘Let us remember, then, that within us there is a palace of immense magnificence. The entire edifice is built of gold and precious stones. […] Truly, there is no building of such great beauty as a pure soul, filled with virtues, and the greater these virtues, the brighter these stones sparkle. […] In this place the great King lodges, who has been pleased to become your guest. […] He sits there on a throne of tremendous value, your heart’ (WP 28, 9).[7]
A Christian life lived rightly is sustained by an intimate communion with God from the heart. John Henry Newman’s motto was ‘Cor ad Cor Loquitur’, a Latin phrase meaning ‘Heart speaks to Heart’. This phrase invites us to make time to be with God through cherished prayer. We listen to him speaking to our heart and we relax in his love. The more we are responsive to his love, the more we reflect his love to others. The Church continues the mission of Jesus and fosters a way of life that sustains sound morals, purpose, and direction towards that which is most noble, most beautiful, and most sacred to the human person.
If we sit in a quiet place, close our eyes, and listen to God, we will find beams of love through the exquisite beauty of holiness that is within and around us. The Carmelite Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection, who worked as a cook in his Paris monastery, tells us: ‘It is not necessary to be always in church to be with God, we can make a private chapel of our heart where we can retire from time to time to commune with him, peacefully, humbly, lovingly. Everyone is capable of these intimate conversations with God, some more, others less; he knows what we can do. Let us begin – perhaps he is only waiting for a single generous resolution from us.’[8]
Prayer, Our Bond with God
Daily prayer helps us to maintain the realisation that God is in our heart, and to be vigilant when this realisation is in decline. Prayer is a service of the heart. The cataphatic approach to spirituality and prayer emphasises a positive, active and assertive orientation towards God. Its content consists of words, images, symbols, ideas and analogies. This form of prayer uses methods and guidelines. Knowledge of divine matters comes through our senses and through human efforts such as understanding, comprehending, reason, intellect and study. Ignatian spirituality is basically cataphatic, or active prayer.
Active prayer is the most common and often the mainstay of our prayer life. Gordon Albion’s prayer is a good example of active prayer: ‘Hear me, Lord, on behalf of all those who are dear to me, all whom I have in mind at this moment. Be near them in all their anxieties and worries. Give them the help of thy saving grace. I commend them all with trustful confidence to thy merciful love. Remember, Lord, all who are mindful of me, all who have asked me to pray for them, all who have been kind to me, all who have wronged me, or whom I have wronged by ill will or misunderstanding. Give all of us grace to bear with each other’s faults and to share each other’s burdens. Have mercy also on the souls of our loved ones who have gone before us. Grant them peace and happiness with thee. Amen.’[9]
Active prayer involves activities within the mind that come from knowledge of one truth or aspect of faith to knowledge of another truth or aspect of faith. There is a passage from one spiritual point to another. We may reflect on events that happen in a parable from Scripture or think about the who, what, when, where and why of a particular biblical scene. After pondering the visualisation, we may have a new understanding and integrate it, so that practical conclusions can be drawn from it. Our intellect chooses what is useful and disregards unnecessary points. Prayer is made through the imagination and cognitive processes. Prayers of petition, intercession, contrition, reflection and gratitude are active prayers, as are the Liturgy of the Hours, litanies, novenas, the rosary and the chaplet of mercy. Active prayer requires effort, concentration and a firm resolve. We are actively communing with God through our thoughts and words.
Active prayer helps us appreciate the finer things in life: for instance, the beauty of knowing people beyond what they do, or the wonder of God in nature. Nature’s beauty is an exquisite setting that reflects the presence of God.
I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes,
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.I see his face in every flower;
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but his voice—and carven by his power,
Rocks are his written words.All pathways by his feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His cross is every tree.[10]
The apophatic approach to spirituality and prayer emphasises a negative orientation, but not in the sense of a harmful or depressing mindset. There is no real content, and one’s desire is to empty the mind of words and images and rest quietly in the presence of God without concern for how we feel. The young Carmelite nun, Elizabeth of the Trinity, wrote, ‘What a joyous mystery is your presence within me, in that intimate sanctuary of my soul where I can always find you, even when I do not feel your presence. Of what importance is feeling? Perhaps you are all the closer when I feel you less.’[11] Apophatic spirituality stresses an interior, mysterious, unknown journey and calm prayer without images or words. We enter into the realm of non-conceptuality, a ‘cloud of unknowing’, so to speak. We perceive by closing our eyes to natural faculties. God is described as hidden or secret and is experienced through mental darkness and negation. Carmelite spirituality appreciates cataphatic and apophatic prayer, especially in the sense of the active giving way to the passive; our effort to pray acquiescing to God’s gratuitous action.
Passive prayer is being quietly aware of God’s presence, or sense that we are being held by him, absorbed in him or suspended by him. We are attentive to what God is doing. The cessation of our energies is replaced by a peaceful relaxing in God’s embrace. We rest in his love. God comes as himself: there is no created image of him, and words are beyond any explanation. Passive prayer is a tranquil, internal response where our heart is captivated by God’s divine presence. In passive prayer, God gives to us. No speaking is involved, only attentive listening. It is a prayer of patience and waiting rather than a prayer of energy and need. We allow God to be God in our heart and quietly dwell in his ineffability.
An unknown contemplative nun offers her plea for passive prayer: ‘Beloved Lord, I offer my soul to you as your hiding place, your haven of concealment. Possession of the depths that I cannot see or feel. Let the silence there be a place to rest your voice, let my dry longing be your comfort and welcome. I want to be altogether yours. I ask that you make my soul your own possession. I willingly offer it to you that you may occupy my soul permanently. Hide there, conceal yourself there, and let me carry you to others in that concealment. Speak to others in your voice with the words that I pronounce; speak as well in the silence that encloses my life. It matters not at all what fruits I perceive in the days to come as long as you are acting. I expect to see little, it is better that way. I have become accustomed to your preference in using me without my knowledge. Your action is more effective when your hiddenness remains. The more ignorant I am, the more you are present in fruitfulness.’[12]
The Fountains
Teresa of Avila gives us a lovely description to illustrate the difference between natural and supernatural prayer, which can be understood as active and passive prayer. There are two fountains. Both have a basin filled to the brim with cool, refreshing water. In one fountain, the water comes to it through many miles of pipe. The source of the water is a long distance away. Much effort is involved in getting the water to the fountain. This fountain is like active prayer. Something from the outside is initiating prayer. Inspiration comes through the senses and brings the desire to pray from the outside to the inside. These sources can be myriad: a spiritual book, a flower in bloom, church bells, chanting, the natural scent of a pine forest, or written prayers or holy cards. God in heaven also implies distance. Like the water source, active prayer implies a distance and a ‘giving to’. The effort in active prayer is in responding to the flow of graces that come from different sources, and in offering prayers to God. It parallels the water working its way to the fountain.
The second fountain has its water source very close. The water flowing into the fountain comes from a spring right under the fountain. The water from the source is one with the water in the fountain. No energy, labour or technology is used to bring the source of the water to the fountain. The two waters blend as one. There is no difference between the water from the source and the water in the basin. This fountain resembles passive prayer. It is an awareness of God being within us that cannot really be explained. God knows fully what is in the deep recesses of our being. His presence within us is like a spiritual oasis that we can retreat to and where we can rest with him.
To be United to Jesus
Isaac of Stella wrote, ‘See how secretly he [Christ] prays, [Christ] who taught us to pray in secret to the Father (Matthew 6:6). [You too], make for yourself a hidden place within yourself, in which you can flee away from yourself and pray in secret to the Father.’[13] To be a Christian is humbling and awesome. Regular prayer is our staff of life that gets us through the day. We become habituated to prayer; and as we do so, our friendship with Jesus deepens. We need to spend time in his company. He is nearer to us than our own heart. He knows us better than we know ourselves. Teresa of Avila reminds us: ‘We need no wings to go in search of Him but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon Him present within us’ (WP 28, 2).[14] ‘[Granting that] we are always in the presence of God, it seems to me that those who practise prayer are [in his presence] specially so, because they can see all the time that He is looking at them; whereas others may be in God’s presence for several days without ever remembering that He can see them’ (Life 8, 2).[15]
Time spent pondering God’s love can be the best part of our day. We find peace and rest in his love that can never be equalled or ended. We sit in a quiet place, and in silent prayer we absorb the remarkable beauty, knowing that we are uniquely loved by God. It is beyond description, a time of tranquil awe and wordless wonder. When these times are over, we are left with a strong sense of union with God and of being a part of his mystery. As Augustine said, ‘You have made us for yourself O Lord, and our hearts find no peace until they rest in you.’[16]
We do not think of ourselves as better than others, because God loves each one in his family. However, we are more conscious of God’s love if we schedule a fifteen-minute break in our day, preferably at the same time, to sit, do nothing, and let God move within us. Elizabeth of the Trinity reminds us: ‘Believe that He loves you, that He wants to help you in the struggles which you have to undergo. Believe in His love, His exceeding love.’[17] We are made for union with God. This lovely old hymn leads us into the quiet, ever embracing mystery of God’s wondrous love.
Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts,
Thou Fount of life, thou Light of men,
From the best bliss that earth imparts,
We turn unfilled to thee again.Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood;
Thou savest those that on thee call;
To them that seek thee thou art good,
To them that find thee all in all.We taste thee, O thou living Bread,
And long to feast upon thee still;
We drink of thee, the Fountainhead,
And thirst our souls from thee to fill.Our restless spirits yearn for thee,
Wherever our changeful lot is cast;
Glad when thy gracious smile we see,
Blessed when our faith can hold thee fast.O Jesus, ever with us stay,
Make all our moments calm and bright;
Chase the dark night of sin away,
Shed over the world thy holy light.[18]
[1] A quotation attributed to Henri J M Nouwen. See Henri Nouwen Society’s ‘You are loved by God’ (24 February 2024). https://henrinouwen.org/meditations/you-belong-to-god-2-2/
[2] An eighteenth-century German hymn composed by Katharina Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel. It began appearing in German hymnals in 1752 and was translated into English in the 1800s.
[3] SLL = The Sayings of Light and Love. See The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross. Translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD and Otilio Rodriguez, OCD (Washington, DC: ICS Publications, 1991), p. 92.
[4] Julian of Norwich. Showings, Chapter 62 (long text). See Revelation of Divine Love. Translated by Elizabeth Spearing (London: Penguin, 1998), p. 145.
[5] See Bernard of Clairvaux, SC 48.8; SBOp 2:264 quoted in Michael Casey. Coenobium: Reflections on Monastic Community (Ohio: Liturgical Press, 2021), p. 64.
[6] See Book X, number 38, in The Works of St. Augustine: A Translation for the 21st Century, Volume 1: The Confessions. Transl. Maria Boulding, OSB. Ed. John E Rotelle, OSA (New York: New York City Press, 1997), p. 262.
[7] This is an unpublished translation of this excerpt. The reference given here is the closest in translation. WP = Way of Perfection. Cf. St. Teresa of Avila. The Way of Perfection. Transl. Benedict Zimmerman, OCD (Illinois: TAN Books and Publishers, Inc., 1997), p. 163.
[8] Cf. Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection. The Practice of the Presence of God. Fourth Letter (To a Woman in the World). Transl. Donald Attwater (London: Burns & Oates, 1977), pp. 68-69.
[9] Gordon Albion. Christians Awake (Longmans, Green, 1957), cited in the Sunday Newsletter (March 14, 2021) of Parish of St Wilfrid, Burgess Hill and St Edward the Confessor, Keymer.
[10] Joseph Mary Plunkett. The Poems of Joseph Mary Plunkett. 4th edition. Ed. Geraldine Plunkett (Dublin: Talbot Press, 1919), p. 50.
[11] This is an unpublished translation of this excerpt from Letter 48 to Marguerite Gollot (April 18, 1901). The original French text can be found in Oeuvres Complètes – Élisabeth de la Trinité [Complete Works of Elizabeth of the Trinity]. Critical Edition prepared by Conrad de Meester, OCD (Paris: Cerf, 1996).
[12] Prayer by an unspecified author and retrieved from an old personal bookmark.
[13] See Sermon One: ‘For the Feast of All Saints’, paragraph 9 in Daniel Deme (ed.), The Selected Works of Isaac of Stella: A Cistercian Voice from the Twelfth Century (Hants: Ashgate Publishing, Ltd., 2007), p. 87.
[14] WP = Way of Perfection in The Complete Works of St. Teresa of Jesus, volume 2. Transl. and Ed. E Allison Peers (London and New York: Sheed and Ward [The New Ark Library Edition], 1963), p. 114.
[15] Life = The Book of Her Life, in The Complete Works of St. Teresa of Jesus, volume 1. Transl. and Ed. E Allison Peers. (London and New York: Sheed and Ward [The New Ark Library Edition], 1963), p. 49.
[16] See Book I, Chapter 1 in St Augustine. Confessions. Transl. Benignus O’Rourke, OSA (London: Darton, Longman and Todd Ltd, 2013), p.21.
[17] The Greatness of Our Vocation, in Elizabeth of the Trinity. The Complete Works, Vol. 1. Transl. Aletheia Kane, OCD (Washington DC: ICS Publications, 1984), # 11, p. 128.
[18] Twelfth-century hymn, ‘Jubilus rithmicus de amore Jesu’, attributed to St Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153). The selection of the five stanzas for use in this hymn and the translation are the work of Ray Palmer (1808-1887). See canticasacra.org.
