Do not walk away from darkness,
Therein lies a greater light;
Deeper beauty, yet unseen
my heart seeks out
thy mystery.
.
Seek not out the road well-trodden,
paths of knowing,
truth revealed.
Embrace, instead, the clouds of silence
Lose thyself in depths
unknown.
Inspired by Richard Rohr, Eager to Love, Chapter 12: Bonaventure
(though I’m not quite sure where this is leading!)
Chapter seven of Growing up to be a child explores a child’s social development, how she learns to relate to other people, and in particular, the importance of attachment relationships:
In essence, attachment refers to a close emotional proximity between one person and another. We see this most clearly between a baby and her mother. The attachment bond provides security for the baby, along with emotional closeness that works both ways. Interestingly, attachment only really becomes significant in the context of separation. Indeed, the very purpose of attachment is to provide a secure base from which the developing child can explore the world; its ultimate goal is to enable independence. This is really quite important.
Continue reading Attachment: a contemplative companion to chapter 7 of Growing up to be a child
In his book, Eager to Love (I am only part way through, but this is fast becoming my number one book of the year), Richard Rohr explores what he refers to as ‘beautiful morality’ in the lives of St Francis and St Clare. In contrast to much of the religiosity of their day (and ours) he sees in Francis and Clare a new self and a new way of living:
The self they became was humanly believable and beautiful, and that also made their moral choices trustworthy and true.
(p63)
Rohr goes on to describe what this beautiful morality looks like:
I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining;
I believe in love, even when I feel it not;
I believe in God, even when he is silent
Take time, in stillness and silence to contemplate the mystery of a God of presence, light and love who so often seems distant, cold and silent.
Click here to go to the contemplative companion to Chapter 6 of Growing up to be a child
A loaf of bread, a sprig of herbs, a bowl of fruit.
Whole, unbroken, waiting.
Hopeful, pregnant, yearning.
Their fragrance trapped, goodness bound,
longing to be set free.
~
Can I step in from the dusty road?
Wash my feet, my face, my hands?
Can I take the knife and break
the bread?
Crush the herbs of bitter pain?
~
Perhaps I, too, will be broken.
No tears spared.
No easy Passover fare.
Greenbelt, 31 August 2015
As a paediatrician, I am often referred young children who are delayed in their development, including those who are slow in learning to walk. When I am assessing a young child’s ability to stand and walk, I need to provide him with support and a stable base so he feels secure.
In this contemplative guide, we take time to reflect on a child’s journey in learning to walk and our own spiritual journeys. Through a prayer of examen or a meditation on scripture, we draw near to our loving creator, who is there to hold each one of us securely in his embrace, giving us the strength and courage to take those first, tentative steps.
Click here to go to the contemplative companion to Chapter 5 of Growing up to be a child.
This contemplation, based on chapter 4 of Growing up to be a child, explores what it means to be a human being.
In his gospel, Luke recounts how the child Jesus ‘grew in wisdom and stature and in favour with God and with the people.’ Luke’s description suggests four domains or areas in which children grow and develop into adults: mental development (‘wisdom’), physical development (‘stature’), spiritual development (‘favour with God’) and social development (‘favour with the people’)…
One of the most powerful aspects of Judaism and Christianity is that all these elements of our humanity are combined in our relationship to God. We are not just spiritual beings temporarily housed in physical bodies. We are human beings: physical, mental, social, and spiritual.
This is reflected in the great Shema prayer in Deuteronomy: ‘Shema Yisrael Adonai eloheinu Adonai ehad’[4] (‘Hear O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one’).[5] The prayer affirms the unity of God and his relationship to his people. It goes on to focus on our response to God: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.’[6] This response comes from the totality of our humanness.
Pause for a while; reflect; celebrate who you are – a wonderful person, body, mind, heart and soul.
Click here to go to the contemplative companion to Chapter 4 of Growing up to be a child.
Our world is fragmented:
creatures disconnected from creation,
nations torn by powerful interests,
families broken by arrogance and addiction,
children crushed by violence and abuse,
nature spoiled by thoughtless consumption.
In this contemplation, while receiving God’s love for ourselves, we cry out to God – Earth Maker, Pain Bearer, Life Giver – for all those who do not or cannot feel that love.
Click here to go to the contemplative companion to chapter 3 of Growing up to be a child
In a wonderful verse in Isaiah, the prophet uses the illustration of a nursing mother: ‘Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?’ Impossible as that may seem, Isaiah contrasts that with God’s steadfast love: ‘Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.’[1]
This image of God as a nursing mother is so, so powerful. It cuts through all our stereotypes of a vengeful, stern judge or an omnipotent, unapproachable creator. Instead we see a different side of God’s character – tender, passionate, caring, vulnerable. It invites us to come to God in such a different way. We come, not so much as miserable sinners cowering beneath ‘his’ judgement and in need of repentance and atonement, but as beloved children invited to nestle into ‘her’ bosom, to be cradled in her arms, to be enfolded in her love. A nursing mother does not place demands on her baby; she takes her up in her arms to love her and cherish her.
This is challenging; it challenges our preconceptions of who God is and what God is like. It also challenges our approach to the Holy One. Can we come to God as vulnerable, newborn babies, willing to put aside our pride and be accepted into her loving embrace? If we can, this move to become like a little child carries with it a wonderful promise of God’s tender, embracing, steadfast love for us.
Click here to go to the contemplative companion to Chapter 2 of Growing up to be a child.
[1] Isaiah 49:15,16.
Kann denn eine Frau ihr Kindlein vergessen, eine Mutter ihren eigenen Sohn?
(Jesaja 49;15)
Es gibt kaum etwas Verletzlicheres als ein Neugeborenes. Als soeben geborener Säugling warst du völlig abhängig von deiner Mutter (und in einem sehr geringen Ausmass auch von mir) Du brauchtest uns für deine Nahrung, um warm und sauber zu sein und um sicher zu schlafen. Die ersten Tage hast du hauptsächlich geschlafen, getrunken und bekamst die Windeln gewechselt. Continue reading Verletzlichkeit