Saturday, June 24, 2017

Roots and Blossoms of Centering Prayer: Retreat with Bill Sheehan

A sizable group of seekers and practitioners from near and far gathered at St. Bart’s Church in San Diego on a rainy February morning for a full day retreat with Fr. Bill Sheehan, a guide on the centering prayer path from its earliest emergence in the latter 20th century. Fr. Sheehan has known Fr. Thomas Keating since his days as abbot at St. Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer, Massachusetts; Sheehan was also one of the “original twelve” participants during that ground-breaking 14-day centering prayer retreat at the Lama Foundation in 1983. Drawing on the works of both Thomas Keating and Cynthia Bourgeault, Fr. Sheehan presented a clear, engaging overview of the contemplative Christian journey as it has been elucidated to modern-day seekers.

Fr. Bill Sheehan
Centering prayer is rooted in centuries-old wisdom, including John Cassian’s conferences and The Cloud of Unknowing. Those teachings offered guidance on apophatic practices to individuals undergoing spiritual direction, often in monastic settings. As valuable as these texts are, Keating recognized that modern-day seekers would benefit through an approach to the spiritual journey that incorporated the language and innovations of psychology. Thus, Sheehan points out, Keating’s earlier contemplative teachings (in his books Open Mind, Open Heart, Invitation to Love, and Intimacy with God) examined the psycho-spiritual effects of centering prayer. This silent prayer, Keating explains, reconnects us to the body, which is the storehouse of all our psychological and emotional experiences, both good and bad. From infancy onward, the body absorbs the wounds of a lifetime, and these wounds create blockages to the free flow of God’s love. Through an ongoing practice of centering prayer, God softens and loosens these blocks, allowing previously repressed experiences to be released. On occasion, this “unloading of the unconscious” can be disturbing, even necessitating professional therapy in some cases. However, Keating reassures us that God never brings anything into our consciousness that we are not ready to receive. This “unblocking” is ultimately a deeply healing process initiated through God’s grace and rooted in our prayerful consent to God’s love. This process came to be known as “divine therapy.”

Taking a further look at consent In Invitation to Love, Keating outlines the “four consents” of the spiritual journey (which also correspond to developmental milestones of the psyche): Consent to the fundamental goodness of our being; consent to the gift of our creative and sexual energy; consent to the experience of human limitation (i.e., aging), and consent to the gift of transformation, which entails the willingness to die to self. Part of the conundrum of the human condition is that we generally hesitate to consent to each of these gifts. But over time, with a persistent contemplative practice, Jesus takes us on a kind of “archeological dig” of our inner psychospiritual realm in which we are invited to let go of our hesitancy to consent. As we deepen into releasing this hesitancy, the divine therapy heals and supports the growth of divine life within us.

In 2005, Keating published his book Manifesting God – coming out at about the same time as Cynthia Bourgeault’s seminal work, Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening. Sheehan explains that these texts corresponded to deepening insights about of the practice of centering prayer: “prayer in secret” and “heart perception.”

As Keating has long asserted, centering prayer is scripturally based, patterned on Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 6:6: “If you want to pray, enter your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Abba [Father] in secret. And your Abba who sees in secret will cause you to blossom.” The emphasis here is on an Abba who is tender and loving rather than harsh and punishing, a continuously present God who always nourishes us from within our “secret” (i.e. wordless, silent) prayer, bringing us to fruition. God is the very ground of being in which we are rooted. As such, God is never absent (even when we feel distant from God) and, as Teresa of Avila reminds us, the biggest obstacle on the spiritual journey is praying as if God were not present. “We come from God and we return to God, breath by breath, moment by moment,” says Fr. Sheehan.

In the inner room, praying in secret, a threefold process occurs. First, we are affirmed as God’s beloved in the very core of our being. Second, as we continue to receive this inflow of divine love, it builds up our capacity to trust, and we are able to rely more fully on the One who loves. Third, once there is trust, God begins to heal the wounds that have accrued over a lifetime.

Rev. Cynthia Bourgeault, a student of Keating’s and a journeyer-teacher in schools of inner awakening, expresses this process from a different point of view. For her, prayer in secret entails “dropping from the head into the heart.” Many of us have “head” addictions – attachments to thinking and analyzing that give us a false sense of power and control. The heart, our magnetic center, is our true organ of spiritual perception – that deeply listening capacity within us that integrates body, mind, and spirit; it is also the avenue for the blossoming of creativity, intuition, wisdom, and compassion.

For Bourgeault, the contemplative journey entails going “beneath” the ego-identified self and becoming centered in the heart, where we can realize and act on our connection to divine being. However, as Sheehan explains, Bourgeault recognizes that there has been some confusion about the terms “ego” and “false self.” False self is a term that Thomas Merton coined to describe that part of our being that takes itself as the whole and lives as if it were separate from God. Keating later adapted Merton’s term to his own teaching, describing the false self as: “the self-image developed to cope with the emotional trauma of early childhood … basing its self-worth on cultural or group identification.” In reaction to its wounds and its painful sense of separation from God, the false self develops overweening attachments to safety and security, affection and esteem, and power and control, chasing after a happiness that it can never attain.

The false self and the ego are not the same thing, however, and Sheehan points out that many people today mistakenly use these terms interchangeably. This is problematic, as the ego is a necessary part of our humanity: the seat of our personality, the conscious decision-maker, the learner and developer of talents and skills. We need a functioning ego to move about in the world and relate with others; thus, it is counterproductive to think of “getting rid of the ego” as some kind of spiritual goal. The “false self” is meant to be understood as a wounded component of ego, but it is not the entire ego itself. Furthermore, as we continue along in the spiritual journey, we become more deeply unified in the mind and heart of Christ, which transcends both the false self and the ego.

Around 2008, Sheehan explains, further clarifications about the spiritual journey emerged through prayer, reflection, and dialogue within the Christian contemplative community. Keating, for example, refined his ideas about the method of centering prayer by observing its psychological aspects from “within” the inner room where we pray in secret. Beholding this, one of the richest fruits of centering prayer becomes evident: the contemplative journey is deeply incarnational.

In essence: As we continue to walk the contemplative path, the indwelling God heals our wounds and cultivates the seeds of our divine potential, awakening the heart and activating our capacity to become conduits for God’s dynamic presence. Through grace, we become infused with the divine. Motivated by the heart-level realization that we are called to live out the beatitudes, we manifest the love of Christ in the world. The ego willingly serves the heart, empowering us to embody the Gospel in our day-to-day lives. Thus, we take action on behalf of justice. We become healers and peace-makers. We do hidden, humble tasks that unexpectedly bring blessing to others. In all variety of ways, small and large, we share the gifts of faith, hope, and love in solidarity with and service to others. Herein lives the incarnational hallelujah: Contemplation and action, being and doing, are like the in-breath and out-breath – necessary and complementary to each other -- and the kingdom of heaven is here and now, within and among us. 

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

The Love by Which We Are Loved and Love

"The ultimate miracle of divine love is this, that the life of the risen Lord is given to us to give to one another. It is given to us through our own human loves. It is no violation of our simple human nature. It is not something which must be cultivated through a lofty spirituality that only few could attain; it does not demand a way of life that is abnormal, or even unusual; it is not a specialized vocation.

It is to be lived at home, at work, in any place, any circumstances. It is to be lived through our natural human relationships, through the people we know, the neighbors we see. It is given to us, if we will take it, literally into our own hands to give. It is the love of human lovers, of man and wife, of parent and child, of friend and friend. 

It is through his risen life in us that Christ sends his love to the ends of the earth. That is why instead of startling the world into trembling adoration by manifesting his glory, he sent the woman who had been a sinner to carry the ineffable secret, and sent the two disciples who had been bewildered by their blind inability to reconcile Scripture and Calvary, and sent the friend who had denied him, to give his love to the world, and to give it as simply as a whispered secret or a loaf of bread. So it is that we, sinners, wranglers, weaklings, provided only that we love God, are sent to give the life of the risen Christ to the whole world, through the daily bread of our human love."

--Caryll Houselander, 1901 - 1954. British artist, writer, mystic, and poet

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Tickle Me, Jesus

I am not blogging much lately -- my days are very full because I am pushing to finish my medical transcription practicum while carving out moments for writing. However, a friend shared this on a social network today and I wanted to preserve it here for future laughter-as-medicine needs.

I myself love daylight saving time, which has recently returned. But I sympathize with those who long for that lost hour -- and an hour with light at that -- at the beginning of the day. ( I always miss that light at the end of the day when things change again in the fall).

Just check out the video in the post below, and you will be healed.





Thursday, January 8, 2015

Centering Prayer: "A monastery without walls"

Here is a fine short article on centering prayer by Sidney Callahan from the Jesuit magazine America. In one section, he points to how centering prayer might appeal to those who define themselves as "spiritual-but-not-religious" or "nones" --

"One: Centering prayer is a completely lay and democratic movement with no need for hierarchical church oversight. It has been called 'a monastery without walls.' Or perhaps the growth of contemplative practice can be likened to the sea of faith's incoming tide.

Two: Centering prayer is a self-validating practice that experientially changes its practitioners from within over time. Those drowning in babble and trivial distractions find healing in silence.

Three: Centering prayer and contemplation is non-doctrinaire and ecumenical. It can be seen as related to Buddhist and other valued forms of meditation and mindfulness."

(emphases mine)

Read the full article here.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Laniakea: "Immense Heaven" Is Our Home



I love this article (and the beautiful accompanying Nature video) on Laniakea -- the name given to the recently identified supercluster of galaxies in which our own Milky Way galaxy is suspended:

"This discovery clarifies the boundaries of our galactic neighborhood and establishes previously unrecognized linkages among various galaxy clusters in the local Universe. 

'We have finally established the contours that define the supercluster of galaxies we can call home,' said lead researcher R. Brent Tully, an astronomer at the University of Hawaii in Manoa. 'This is not unlike finding out for the first time that your hometown is actually part of a much larger country that borders other nations.'" 

To read the article and view the video, click here. 




Saturday, June 7, 2014

Seeing God


A man came up to Jesus and complained about the hiddenness of God. "Rabbi," he said, "I am an old man. During my whole life, I have always kept the commandments. Every year of my adult life, I went to Jerusalem and offered the prescribed sacrifices. Every night of my life, I have not retired to my bed without first saying my prayers. But . . . I look at the stars and sometimes the mountains -- and wait, wait for God to come so that I might see him. I have waited for years and years, but in vain. Why? Why? Mine is a great grievance, Rabbi! Why doesn't God show himself?"

Jesus smiled and responded gently: "Once upon a time there was a marble throne at the eastern gate of a great city. On this throne sat three thousand kings. All of them called upon God to appear so that they might see him, but all went to their graves with their wishes unfulfilled.

"Then, when the kings had died, a pauper, barefooted and hungry, came and sat upon that throne. 'God,' he whispered, 'the eyes of a human being cannot look directly at the sun, for they would be blinded. How, then, Omnipotent, can they look directly at you? Have pity, Lord, temper your strength, turn down your splendor so that I, who am poor and afflicted, may see you!'

"Then -- listen, old man -- God became a piece of bread, a cup of cool water, a warm tunic, a hut, and in front of the hut, a woman nursing an infant."

"Thank you, Lord," the pauper whispered. "You humbled yourself for my sake. You became bread, water, a warm tunic and a wife and a child in order that I might see you. And I did see you. I bow down and worship your beloved many-faced face."

--From The Last Temptation of Jesus (1960), by Nikos Kazantzakis