How to live life . . . an Archbishop's advice

In the Introduction to "Beginning to Pray" by Archbishop Anthony Bloom, the edition I found at a library book sale today, begins with an interview conducted by Timothy Wilson.  He asks Bloom if he has any difficulty communicating since the Christian faith is often not easily understood.  Here is the Archbishop's striking answer:

"What I aim at is to live within a situation and to be totally engrossed in it and yet free from involvement.  The basic thing is that I never ask myself what the result of any action will be--that is God's concern.  the only question I keep asking myself in life is: what should I do at this particular moment?  What should I say?  All you can do is to be at every single moment as true as you can with all the power in your being--and then leave it to God to use you, even despite yourself.

"Whenever I speak I speak with all the conviction and belief which is in me.  I stake my life on what I am saying.  It's not the words themselves that are important but reaching down to the level of people's convictions.  This is the basis of communication, this is where we really meet one another.  If people want to ridicule me, that's fine; but if it produces a spark in them and we can talk, then it means we are really talking about something which concerns us deeply."

This is the kind of communication worth learning and practicing for a lifetime.  Living with conviction, acting with conviction, and connecting deeply with others.

Beginning to Pray by Archbishop Anthony Bloom, Paulist Press, New York/Ramsey, 1970.

"Our Father" A Reading for Christmas Day

“Our  Father” the title is yet all love.  Man whose days

are more brittle than fine-spun glass may pray to Him

whose power moves the stars through ages: “Our Father.”

Man whose deeds are stained with folly may pray to the

Sovereign Will before whom even angels are not blameless:

“Our Father.”   That such a prayer should have been

given by Jesus Christ and understood by blundering men is a

miracle; for it is the assurance that we, despite the devil’s

wiles and our weak acquiescence, are yet in some hidden

center made in the image of God.  God’s authority is stands

eternal, but is yet for our good.  God’s holiness shines

inexorably as light, but is yet intent upon our joy. Nothing

need dismay us, for we have “Our Father.”  His authority

is not broken, His holiness cannot misconceive our well-being;

and authority and holiness are diastole and systole of His

heart of love.

Why are we born?  Because Love must bring forth children—to

live in Love’s devotion.  Why is the earth filled with beauty and

bounty, and with such singular accord as that between eye

and earth and sun?  Because fatherly concern has built the

house and spread the table.  Why is necessity of toil laid upon

us so that we must daily win our livelihood from our friend-enemy,

the cosmos?  Because children grown under responsible endeavor.

Why have the means of travel compressed the world into one

Neighborhood?  Because Hands are round about us constraining

our family nearness.  Why are we stricken by remorse when we

violate our conscience?  Because the holy love of God thus moves

in us, and His grief thus revealed us that we are made, not for

sinning, but for sainthood.

Why pain?  The very question aches and finds no easy answer.

There is enough pain on earth to make any man despair; or,

rather, there would be enough, if man’s awareness of God were

not stronger in all the generations than his awareness of pain.

Pain of itself is the servant of death, as any tortured face or

racked body can show.  But pain made an oblation to God, a

strange and bitter offering, becomes, beyond any easy

moralizing or pious cant, the servant of life  For Beethoven’s

music grew to thunderous praise when it was wrung from his

deafness, and Tennyson’s poetry became apocalypse when he

dipped his pen in tears.  Why must man suffer the inexplicable

yoke of pain?  There is no logical answer.  We should flee the

man who in brash and shallow mind presumes to peddle a

“simple solution” to the “problem of pain.”  Yet earthly

parents thrust their children into cold water to teach them

to swim, and expose them to the politics of grade school to

encourage their growth.  We are but children.  Therefore we

do not know why we should go through this school of life or

ever travel the dark valley; but those who have prayed “our

Father,” and ventured on the prayer, have not lacked secret

tidings that all is well.  They have been persuaded that pain

and death are also his angels.

(So We Believe So We Pray, The essence of our Christian faith,

by George A. Buttrick, Abingdon-Cokesbury Press, New York,

Nashville, 1951, pages 138-141.)

Leading with Outstretched Hands

As he concludes In the Name of Jesus, Henri Nouwen leaves us with a powerful image: the leader with outstretched hands, who chooses a life of downward mobility. This is the image of the praying, vulnerable, trusting leader.

Following his move from Harvard to a communal life among mentally handicapped people and their assistants at L’Arche, Nouwen discovered that every day was full of unplanned events and surprises.  He writes, “The people I came to live with made me aware of the extent to which my leadership was still a desire to control complex situations, confused emotions, and anxious minds.”

Leadership requires a willingness to be led

Nouwen describes his discovery that “leadership, for a large part, means to be led . . . I am learning  . . . not just about the pains and struggles of wounded people, but also about their unique gifts and grace.  They teach me about joy and peace, love and care and prayer—what I could never have learned in any academy.”

After reviewing the abuse of power by Christian leaders in the church over the centuries, he asks:           “What makes the temptation of power so seemingly irresistible? Maybe it is that power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love.  It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love life.”

The challenge of Christian leadership in the 21^st century

Jesus’ vision of maturity, Nouwen writes, “is the ability and willingness to be led where you would rather not go . . . the servant-leader is the leader who is being led to unknown, undesirable, and painful places.  “The way of the Christian leader is not the way of upward mobility . . . but the way of downward mobility ending on the cross . . . the downward-moving way of Jesus is the way to the joy and the peace of God, a joy and peace that is not of this world.”

21^st century Christian leadership “is not a leadership of power and control, but a leadership of powerlessness and humility in which the suffering servant of God, Jesus Christ, is made manifest.”

The call for real theological reflection

Here, Nouwen affirms the discipline of theological reflection as an essential component of such a leader’s life and ministry.  “Just as prayer keeps us connected with the first love and just as confession and forgiveness keep our ministry communal and mutual, so strenuous theological reflection will allow us to discern critically where we are being led.”  He defines real theological thinking as thinking with the mind of Christ.

“To be such a leader, it is essential to be able to discern from moment to moment how God acts in human history and how the personal, communal, national, and international events that occur during our lives can make us more and more sensitive to the ways in which we are led to the cross and through the cross to the resurrection.

“Christian leaders have the arduous task of responding to personal struggles, family conflicts, national calamities, and international tensions with an articulate faith in God’s real presence . . . they have to say no to every form of despair in which human life is seen as a pure matter of good or bad luck. 

“They have to say no to sentimental attempts to make people develop a spirit of resignation or stoic indifference in the face of the unavoidability of pain, suffering, and death.  In short, they have to say no to the secular world and proclaim in unambiguous terms that the incarnation of God’s Word, through whom all things came into being, has made even the smallest event of human history into kairos, that is an opportunity to be led deeper into the heart of Christ.”

Discovering the hidden presence of God

“The Christian leaders of the future have to be theologians, persons who know the heart of God and are trained—through prayer, study, and careful analysis—to manifest the divine event of God’s saving work in the midst of the seemingly random events of their time.

“Theological reflection is reflecting on the painful and joyful realities of every day with the mind of Jesus and thereby raising human consciousness to the knowledge of God’s gentle guidance.  This is a hard discipline, since God’s presence is often a hidden presence, a presence that needs to be discovered.”

Nouwen challenges seminaries to become centers where people are trained to discern the signs of the time.  We would add local churches, home groups, and Bible studies as additional settings where women and men can learn together how to practice spiritual discernment.

“This cannot be just an intellectual training,” Nouwen writes.  “It requires a deep spiritual formation involving the whole person—body, mind, and heart . . . to the degree that such formation is being sought for and realized, there is hope for the church of the twenty-first century.”

By studying the lives and writings of countless women and men through more than two thousand years of history, we can encourage one another in the practices that lead to transformative spiritual formation.

“Jesus sends us out to be shepherds . . . He asks us to move from a concern for relevance to a life of prayer, from worries about popularity to communal and mutual ministry, and from a leadership built on power to a leadership in which we critically discern where God is leading us and our people” (In the Name of Jesus, Reflections on Christian Leadership, Crossroad, 1989, pages 73-93).

Confession and Forgiveness and Loving Support

Christian leaders must be “always willing to confess their own brokenness and ask for forgiveness from from those to whom they minister.” 

In practice, however, the leader may hide his or her vulnerability.  As Henri Nouwen observes: “There is so much fear, so much distance, so much generalization, and so little real listening, speaking, and absolving that not much true sacramentality can be expected.” 

He then asks two questions that every Christian community must consider: First, “How can priests or ministers feel really loved and cared for when they have to hide their own sins and failings from the people to whom they minister . . . ? 

We are called to nurture communities in which all are comfortable practicing both confession and forgiveness.  As Nouwen observes, we must recognize that “ministers and priests are also called to be full members of their communities, are accountable to them and need their affection and support, and are called to minister with their whole being, including their wounded selves.”

Second, “How can people truly care for their shepherds and keep them faithful to their sacred task when they do not know them and so cannot deeply love them?”  In practice, only a few wise and trusted friends can listen attentively and fully to a leader’s personal struggles. But every priest and minister needs a truly safe friend or group of trusted friends.

 

“They need a place where they can share their deep pain and struggles with people who do not need them, but who can guide them ever deeper into the mystery of God’s love.” 

Nouwen found such a place in the community at L’Arche “with a group of friends who pay attention to my often-hidden pains and keep me faithful to my vocation by their gentle criticism and loving support.

“Would that all priests and ministers could have such a safe place for themselves” 

(In the Name of Jesus, Crossroad, 1989, pages 64-70). 

A year is a long time to go without a post . . . for me the past year has been a time of transition . . . the changes go on, and I plan to resume posting . . . and may try some other experiments . . . enjoy.  Read on!

No Lone Shepherds

Henri  Nouwen provides a wise perspective on the role of pastors and shepherds in the Christian community in his chapter on “The Task: ‘Feed My Sheep.’”   Here Nouwen emphasizes the value of working together, as members of a community, when providing pastoral care, guidance, and teaching.

“When Jesus speaks about shepherding, he does not want us to think about a brave, lonely shepherd who takes care of a large flock of obedient sheep.  In many ways, he makes it clear that ministry is a communal and mutual experience.

“First of all Jesus sends the twelve out in pairs (Mark 6:7).  We keep forgetting that we are being sent out two-by-two.  We cannot bring good news on our own.  We are called to proclaim the Gospel together, in community.  There is a divine wisdom here. ‘If two of you on earth agree to ask anything at all, it will be granted to you by my Father in heaven.  For where two or three meet in my name, I am among them’ (Matthew 18:19-20).  You might already have discovered for yourself how radically different traveling alone is from traveling together.

“I have found over and over again how hard it is to be truly faithful to Jesus when I am alone.  I need my brothers or sisters to pray with me, to speak with me about the spiritual task at hand, and to challenge me to stay pure in mind, heart, and body.  But far more importantly, it is Jesus who heals, not I; Jesus who speaks words of truth, not I; Jesus who is Lord, not I.  This very clearly made visible when we proclaim the redeeming power of God together.  Indeed, whenever we minister together, it is easier for people to recognize that we do not come in our own name, but in the name of the Lord Jesus who sent us.

“Ministry is not only a communal experience; it is also a mutual experience.  Jesus, speaking about his own shepherding ministry, says, ‘I am the good shepherd.  I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows we and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for my sheep’ (John 10:14-15).  As Jesus ministers, so he wants us to minister.  He wants Peter to feed his sheep and care for them, not as ‘professionals’ who know their clients’ problems and take care of them, but as vulnerable brothers and sisters who know and are known, who care and are cared for, who forgive and are being forgiven, who love and are being loved.

“We are not the healers, we are not the reconcilers, we are not the givers of life.  We are sinful, broken, vulnerable people who need as much care as anyone we care for.  The mystery of ministry is that we have been chosen to make our own limited and very conditional love the gateway for the unlimited and unconditional love of God” (In the Name of Jesus, Crossroad, 1989, pages 57-63).

Learning About Shared Ministry

After six years of seminary training, Henri Nouwen writes that he felt “like a man sent on a long, long hike with a huge backpack containing all the things necessary to help the people I would meet on the road” (In the Name of Jesus, Crossroad, 1989, page 51).

He also carried another weighty expectation--that ministry was essentially an individualistic pursuit.  Nouwen reports that this approach was radically challenged when he was called to live and minister in the L’Arche community for handicapped women and men in Montreal, Canada.

“Living in a community with very wounded people, I came to see that I had lived most of my life as a tightrope artist trying to walk on a high, thin cable from one tower to the other, always waiting for the applause when I had not fallen off and broken my leg” (In the Name of Jesus, page 53).

“When you look at today’s church, it is easy to see the prevalence of individualism among ministers and priests . . . You could say that many of us feel like failed tightrope walkers who discovered that we did not have the power to draw thousands of people, that we could not make many conversions, that we did not have the talents to create beautiful liturgies, that we were not as popular with the youth, the young adults, or the elderly as we had hoped, and that we were not as able to respond to the needs of our people as we had expected.  But most of us still feel that, ideally, we should have been able to do it all and do it successfully.

“Stardom and individual heroism, which are such obvious aspects of our competitive society, are not at all alien to the church.  There too the dominant image is that of the self-made man or woman who can do it all alone” (In the Name of Jesus, page 56).

Today’s church is not looking for tightrope walkers.  But there are unlimited opportunities for committed followers of Jesus—servant-leaders who are willing to pray, serve, live, love, work, and grow in communities of faith.  

Contemplative Prayer for Christian Leaders

Perhaps “mystic” is one of the most misunderstood descriptions of a prayerful Christian. But Henri Nouwen simplifies the meaning with this clear definition: “a mystic is a person whose identity is deeply rooted in God’s first love.”

For Christian leaders, becoming people of prayer will be a lifetime pursuit. As Nouwen writes, Christian leaders both today and tomorrow will need to learn the discipline of contemplative prayer “dwelling in the presence of the One who keeps asking us, ‘Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me?’”

“Through contemplative prayer we can keep ourselves from being pulled from one urgent issue to another and from becoming strangers to our own heart and God’s heart. Contemplative prayer deepens in us the knowledge that we are already free, that we have already found a place to dwell, that we already belong to God, even though everything and everyone around us keep suggesting the opposite.”

While it is well and good for laypeople, priests and ministers to be moral, well-trained, eager to help others, and able to respond creatively to the burning issues of the day, that is not the heart of Christian leadership says Nouwen.

“The central question is, Are the leaders of the future truly men and women of God, people with an ardent desire to dwell in God’s presence, to listen to God’s voice, to look at God’s beauty, to touch God’s incarnate Word, and to taste fully God’s infinite goodness?”

Christian leadership “must be rooted in the permanent, intimate relationship with the incarnate Word, Jesus, and they need to find the source for their words, advice and guidance. Through the discipline of contemplative prayer, Christian leaders have to listen again and again to the voice of love and to find there the wisdom and courage to address whatever issue presents itself to them.

“When we are securely rooted in personal intimacy with the source of life, it will be possible to remain flexible without being relativistic, convinced without being rigid, willing to confront without being offensive, gentle and forgiving without being soft, and true witnesses without being manipulative” (In the Name of Jesus, Henri Nouwen, Crossroad Publishing, New York, 1989, pages 42-47).