Contemplation

Contemplation is life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is spiritual wonder. It is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being. It is gratitude for life, for awareness, and for being. It is a vivid realization of the fact that life and being in us proceed from an invisible, transcendent, and infinitely abundant Source. Contemplation is, above all, awareness of the reality of that Source. It knows the Source, obscurely, inexplicably, but with a certitude that goes beyond reason and beyond simple faith. . . . It is a more profound depth of faith, a knowledge too deep to be grasped in images, in words, or even in clear concepts. . . .
Contemplation is also the response to a call: a call from Him Who has no voice, and yet Who speaks in everything that is, and Who, most of all, speaks in the depths of our own being: for we ourselves are words of His. But we are words that are meant to respond to Him, to answer to Him, to echo Him, and even in some way to contain Him and signify Him. Contemplation is this echo. It is a deep resonance in the inmost center of our spirit in which our very life loses its separate voice and re-sounds with the majesty and the mercy of the Hidden and Living One. . . .
It is awakening, enlightenment, and the amazing intuitive grasp by which love gains certitude of God’s creative and dynamic intervention in our daily life. Hence contemplation does not simply “find” a clear idea of God and confine Him within the limits of that idea, and hold Him there as a prisoner to Whom it can always return. On the contrary, contemplation is carried away by Him into His own realm, His own mystery, and His own freedom.

FROM NEW SEEDS OF CONTEMPLATION, Thomas Merton

quoted

“Life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be lived.” Contemplation, as Thomas Merton writes of it, is not a solution to any of our problems, but a way of praying. Contemplative living is a way of being present to our experiences that appreciates the adventure and gift of being alive. Contemplation is not a series of techniques whose aim is to achieve self-calming, although contemplation cannot begin unless one develops a taste for quiet and periods of solitude. Contemplation is experiencing a “still-point” that allows us to recognize the “one thing necessary” for our lives that makes us more deeply joyful and courageous human beings. When we live contemplatively we take a stance on life that enables us to focus and “see” that both simplicity and complexity of experience are equally good and beautiful. Living a life that is contemplative opens us to ourselves, our neighbors, and, at deeper levels that we do not often experience, to God who, Merton would say, has been present to our lives and experience all the time.

Can You Drink the Cup?

"Can we hold our life, lift our life, and drink it, as Jesus did? In some of those around me, there was a sign of recognition, but in myself there was a deep awareness of truth. Jesus' question had given me a new language with which to speak about my life and the lives of those around me. For a long time after that simple morning Eucharist, I kept hearing Jesus' question: "Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?" Just letting that question sink in made me feel very uncomfortable. But I knew that I had to start living with it." Using the cup as a metaphor, Nouwen reflects on three images - holding, lifting and drinking - to articulate basics of the spiritual life. Writing with the insight and clarity that has characterised his numerous best-selling books, Nouwen draws stories from his own life and ministry to illustrate his main themes. Henri Nouwen. Can You Drink the Cup? (1996) Ave Maria Press. Some excerpts: Holding the cup of life means looking critically at what we are living. This requires great courage, because when we start looking, we might be terrified by what we see. Questions may arise that we don't know how to answer. Doubts may come up about things we thought we were sure about. Fear may emerge from unexpected places. We are tempted to say: "let's just live life. All this thinking about it only makes things harder." Still, we intuitively know that without looking at life critically we lose our vision and our direction. When we drink the cup without holding it first, we may simply get drunk and wander around aimlessly. Holding the cup of life is a hard discipline. We are thirsty people who like to start drinking are once. But we need to restrain our impulse to drink, put both of our hands around the cup, and ask ourselves. "What am I given to drink? What is in my cup? Is it safe to drink? Is it good for me? Will it bring me health?"
Just as there are countless varieties of wine, there are countless varieties of lives. No two lives are the same. We often compare our lives with those of others, trying to decide whether we are better or worse off, but such comparisons do not help us much. We have to live our live, not someone else's. We have to hold our own cup. We have to dare to say: "This is my life, the life that is given to me, and it is this life that I have to live, as well as I can. My life is unique. Nobody else will ever live it. I have my own history, my own family, my own body, my own characters, my own friends, my own my of thinking, speaking, and acting-yes, I have my own life to live. No one else has the same challenge. I am alone, because I am unique. Many people can help me to live my life, but after all is said and done, I have to make my own choices about how to live."
It is hard to say this to ourselves, because dong so confronts us with our radical aloneness. But it is also a wonderful challenge, because it acknowledges our radical uniqueness. But now I know that my sorrows are mine and will not leave me. In fact I know they are very old and very deep sorrows, and that no amount of positive thinking or optimism will make them less.

The cup of Sorrow

The adolescent struggle to find someone to love me is still there; unfulfilled needs for affirmation as a young adult remain alive in me. The deaths of my brother and many family members and friends during my later years cause me continued grief. Beyond all that, I experience deep sorrow that I have not become who I wanted to be, and that the God to whom I have prayed so much has not given me what I have most desired.

Now I look at the man of sorrows. He hangs on a cross with outstreched arms. It is Jesus, condemned by Pontius Pilate, crucified by Roman soldiers, and ridiculed by Jews and Gentiles alike. But it is also us, the whole human race, peopole of all times and all places, uprooted from the earth as a spectacle of agony for the entire universe to watch. "When I am lifted up from the earth," Jesus said, "I shall draw all people to myself" (John 12:32). Jesus, the man of sorrows, and we, the people of sorrow, hang there between heaven and earth, crying out, "God, our God, why have you forsaken us?"

Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?" Jesus asked his friends. They answered yes, but had no idea waht he was talking about. Jesus' cup is the cup of sorrow, not just his own sorrow but the sorrow of the whole human race. It is a cup full of physical, mental, and spiritual anguish. It is the cup of starvation, torture, loneliness, rejection, abandonment, and immense anguish. It is the cup full of bitterness.....

Why then could he still say yes? I can't fully answer that question, except to say that beyond all the abandonment experienced in body and mind Jusus still had a spirtual bond with the one he called Abba. He possessed a trust beyond betrayal, a surrender beyond despair, a love beyond all fears. This intimacy beyond all human intimacies made it possible for Jesus to allow the request to let the cup pass him by become a prayer directed to the one who had called him "My beloved." Notwithstanding his anguish, that bond of love had not been broken. It couldn't be felt in the body, nor thought through in the mind. But it was there, beyond al feelings and thoughts, and it maintained the communion underneath all disruptions. It was that spiritual sinew, that intimate communion with his Father, that made him hold on to the cup and pray: "My Father, let it be as you, not I,would have it" (Matthew 26:39) .Jesus didn't throw the cup away in despari. No he kept it in his hands, willing to drink it to the dregs, This was not a show of willpower, staunch determination, or great heroism. This was a deep spiritual yes to Abba, the lover of his wounded heart. );

Now I look at the man of sorrows. He hangs on a cross with outstreched arms. It is Jesus, condemned by Pontius Pilate, crucified by Roman soldiers, and ridiculed by Jews and Gentiles alike. But it is also us, the whole human race, people of all times and all places, uprooted from the earth as a spectacle of agony for the entire universe to watch. "When I am lifted up from the earth," Jesus said, "I shall draw all people to myself" (John 12:32). Jesus, the man of sorrows, and we, the people of sorrow, hang there between heaven and earth, crying out, "God, our God, why have you forsaken us?"

"Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?" Jesus asked his friends. They answered yes, but had no idea waht he was talking about. Jesus' cup is the cup of sorrow, not just his own sorrow but the sorrow of the whole human race. It is a cup full of physical, mental, and spiritual anguish. It is the cup of starvation, torture, loneliness, rejection, abandonment, and immense anguish. It is the cup full of bitterness.....

Why then could he still say yes? I can't fully answer that question, except to say that beyond all the abandonment experienced in body and mind Jusus still had a spiritual bond with the one he called Abba. He possessed a trust beyond betrayal, a surrender beyond despair, a love beyond all fears. This intimacy beyond all human intimacies made it possible for Jesus to allow the request to let the cup pass him by become a prayer directed to the one who had called him "My beloved." Notwithstanding his anguish, that bond of love had not been broken. It couldn't be felt in the body, nor thought through in the mind. But it was there, beyond al feelings and thoughts, and it maintained the communion underneath all disruptions. It was that spiritual sinew, that intimate communion with his Father, that made him hold on to the cup and pray: "My Father, let it be as you, not I,would have it" (Matthew 26:39) .Jesus didn't throw the cup away in despair. No he kept it in his hands, willing to drink it to the dregs, This was not a show of will power, staunch determination, or great heroism. This was a deep spiritual yes to Abba, the lover of his wounded heart.


In the midst of th sorrows is consolation, in the midst of the darkness is light, in the midst of the despair is hope, in the midst of Babylon is a glimpse of Jerusalem, and in the midst of the army of demons is the consoling angel. The cup of sorrow, inconceivable as it seems, is also the cup of joy. Only when we discover this in our own life can we consider drinking
it.