Let's Talk Contemplation W/o Debate

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The contemplative life does not rule out the active life. In fact, it completes a Christian’s spirituality. Let’s look at Francis of Assisi. Francis was neither a monk nor a priest. He was a layman. Granted, he became the father of a great religious family and founder of a great spiritual tradition in the Church, but was still an active layman. There were of course priests who left their parishes and joined his fraternity. He also founded an order of nuns, together with Clare of Assisi and an order for secular men and women, some of them secular priests. The only group in his three orders that is not active are the nuns, known as the Poor Clares.

Nonetheless, Francis was a contemplative. While he was an itinerant preacher who went from place to place, he also stopped to create time for silence. In silence he heard the voice of God. He stopped to reflect on the Gospels, in doing so he came to understand the poor and crucified Christ, to the point that he identified with him.

newadvent.org/library/docs_le13au.htm

In the above link, Pope Leo XIII describes Francis in his Encyclical on St. Francis of Assisi. He observes that Francis was indeed a man of action and how he observed (contemplated) Christ’s saving work and sought to imitate it to such a point that Leo refers to him as “the complete model of Christian perfection,” (Parr 9).

How does one become the complete model of Christian perfection? Shakespeare once said that imitation was the best form of flattery. In the English of his time flattery was not meant as something shallow, but as a compliment of something that one had observed and grown to admire to such a degree that one made it personal.

Herein lays the beginning of contemplation, to observe Jesus; to imitate him; to become so much like him that one becomes a model of Christ. Obviously, we do not become Christ for there is only one Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. However, I once heard this said about a nun and I think it applies here. There was a nun who was called the Living Rule. When someone asked what that meant, the speaker responded that if the rule of the order were lost, it could be reconstructed by watching the behavior of such a perfect nun.

If you look at someone like Francis, you can say that if the Gospel were lost, you can reconstruct it by looking at him. He observed Christ, he imitated Christ, and he worshipped Christ in prayer, sacrament and action. Like Christ, he embraced humanity as his brothers and sisters. He embraced nature as God’s gift. Here again we see contemplation, in a life of action. While Francis goes about the world doing what he does, he reminds himself that every man and woman is a child of God. He contemplates (observes) God through each person with whom he makes contact. He stops to realize that God speaks to us through the wonders of nature. Thus he calls it Brother Sun and Sister Moon and so forth. As he watches the sun and the moon move through the sky, Francis realizes that they do exactly what God ordained for them to do. They fulfill God’s plan and they do so in silence, without the chatter and self-centeredness of man. This too is contemplation, to see God’s will for us in the created world. God wills for us to fulfill a plan, without campaigns, without marketing ourselves to the world, and in silence. Just go about your business and do your best.

To contemplate is to begin to see how we can become models of Christ. We do this by stopping to pray, meditate, spend time with scripture, learn what the Church teaches and think about its application in our lives. Contemplation does not require that we give up activity. It requires that we give up our ego and put on Christ, as St. Paul says.

Contemplation begins with an act of faith.
 
The various flavors of contemplation seem to be matched with personalities. I for one, have little appetite for Baroque Spanish mysticism. The Desert Father at Bethlehem Hermitage has been trying to get me into Centering Prayer for 7 years. (Don’t start a shouting match about this; were not talking about navel-gazing or chanting mantras.) But it just doesn’t fly for me.

My preferred path is Lectio Divina. This is the primary way in which I engagage in ‘contemplative’ prayer. I use the word “contemplation” here in it’s most common sense – I do not mean “infused contemplation” or the “prayer of silence” or anything like that, just discursive meditation that glides into attentive silence . . .
Generally, I do this in the middle of the night when the Good Lord wakes me up . . .
I love this. May I borrow it. 👍
 
I love this. May I borrow it. 👍
Sure, you can have it. Just be sure to send the royalty checks!😛

As for your observation earlier that active life does not rule out contemplation, that is absolutely true. The Jesuit model [that’s how I got into the serious prayer business] is a perfect example. I think we sometimes are tempted to use our active life as an excuse to avoid prayer, or to use our contemplative predilections as an excuse for laziness.

Although I have deep respect for the hermit life (I DID mention the DF at Bethlehem Hermitage as a longstanding acquaintance), the more deeply I engage in prayer, the more I see it not only as the pillar that holds up the sky (or rather, the pillar that holds ME up TO the sky), the less I see it as an isolated phenomenon. The “famous” hermits of history have all been dragged kicking and screaming out of the desert and back into the fray: Elijah, Jerome, Bruno among them.
 
St. Augustine said, “We go to God not by walking, but by loving.”

Our Lord to Gabrielle Bossis,“give yourself a rest from saying prayers so that you may enjoy My love.”

I think gratitude is at the heart of contemplation, which leads to Agape. It is a love story, the truly grateful soul sees “the universe in an Acorn,” as Julian of Norwich declared. Once gratitude reigns in the heart, then, the soul thirsts so much for God that it is painful…ie Teresa’s “wound of Divine Love.”

Then one feels starved for silence. Just to be with Him, nothing more, no relvelation, no requests, just “being.”

I think the mystic asks each of us the following question:

What melody haunts the quiet eddies of your soul? Whose voice inevitably seeps through the barriers of your busyness? What truth screams, to shake you free in moments of tragedy and despair? It is the noiseless whisper of our God.

The Song of Songs is probably the best scriptural passage, which gives us a taste of this intense longing for the Beloved, and how Agape is actually experienced in the soul.
 
Hi Jim,

Thanks for your thoughts. I have a question about the prayer of quiet. Isn’t that not only ‘conducive’ to contemplative prayer, but actually the beginning of contemplative prayer?

-Rob
Yes, but contemplative prayer, isn’t contemplation, but rather, the method of quiet prayer, where we open ourselves up to God, who brings us into contemplation. It is the resting in the presence of God.

St. Teresa says that those who only do, discursive prayer, can be and have been given the gift of contemplation, but its rare and she doesn’t know how. My take from her is that, it wasn’t her experience, so she wouldn’t know how to talk about it.

Jim
 
Hi JReducation!
The contemplative life does not rule out the active life. In fact, it completes a Christian’s spirituality. Let’s look at Francis of Assisi. Francis was neither a monk nor a priest. He was a layman.
St. Francis was the first contemplative I came to know in my spiritual journey. However, St. Francis went away on his own, to be in contemplative prayer, often, especially in the early days when he was still alone. His favorite place was the cave on Mt. Subasio. There in that cave, he prayed in silence and meditated. Even after he had a group following him, he would get away from retreats, by going to his cave.

Without contemplation, St. Francis probably would not have been moved to do what he did. It is through contemplation, that we are transformed into spiritual union with Christ. Through the transforming grace given to us in contemplation, we are transformed to love as Christ.

St. John of the Cross says that just as the lover takes on the traits of the beloved, so do we, who love Christ, take on the traits of our Beloved.

Jim
 
There are different spiritual styles, which all lead to contemplation. Thats why we have Carmelites, Franciscans, Benedictines, etc.

All, have their own spirituality, but all are directed toward contemplation, which is union with Jesus Christ.

Each person will be led to the spirituality which the Lord will use to bring them closer to Him. Our aim should be, not rejecting any particular spirituality, but being open to the one God has drawn us toward.

My take is that it has to do with each person’s own personality type.

In fact, a book I read years ago, “Who You Are is How You Pray,”( which I don’t believe is in print anymore, and I don’t recall the authors name at them moment,) has you look at your own personality type, through a Myers-Briggs, type evaluation, and match your own personality type, with the form of prayer that would be most conducive for you. I remember mine was directed toward St. Teresa of Avila. So, I ran out and purchased a copy of “The Way of Perfection,” and I didn’t understand a word of it. Years later, after doing contemplative prayer, I joined the Secular Order of Discalced Carmelites, and the words in the book spoke to me, very profoundly. Caremelite spirituality matches my personality type, very well.

Jim
 
Yes, but contemplative prayer, isn’t contemplation, but rather, the method of quiet prayer, where we open ourselves up to God, who brings us into contemplation. It is the resting in the presence of God.

St. Teresa says that those who only do, discursive prayer, can be and have been given the gift of contemplation, but its rare and she doesn’t know how. My take from her is that, it wasn’t her experience, so she wouldn’t know how to talk about it.

Jim
Each time I’ve re-read this I’ve come closer to what you mean, but I think if I just ask one or two questions you’ll clear it up for me.
  1. Are you just making the distinction, in the first paragraph, that contemplation is an infused prayer, and thus not something we do, but God does to us?
  2. In the second paragraph, are you just saying that contemplative prayer does occur, rarely, to people who have not ceased discursive prayer (a la St. John’s scheme)?
-Rob
 
One more question.

St. John, in the Dark Night, near the end of ch. 10 in Bk. 1, says this:
All that is required of them here is freedom of soul, that they liberate themselves from the impediment and fatigue of ideas and thoughts, and care not about thinking and meditating. They must be content simply with a loving and peaceful attentiveness to God, and live without the concern, without the effort, and without the desire to taste or feel him. All these desires disquiet the soul and distract it from the peaceful, quiet and sweet idleness of the contemplation that is being communicated to it.
I suppose I’m just confused with what he means by “loving and peaceful attentiveness to God.” How can one be attentive without focusing one’s attention on something, which of course, would obviate everything he wrote in the rest of the paragraph?

I suppose it’s just such a leap from discursive meditation that I’m not quite getting it. When I try to be ‘attentive’ to God in discursive meditation, what I am trying to do is both to push away distractions and to focus on what I’m meditating on. Since the quiet prayer is so totally unlike discursive meditation, I have a feeling that I won’t “get it” until I quite literally get it.

-Rob
 
I might as well add one more question on to it.

I continued from chapter 10 to chapter 11, of bk. 1 in the Dark Night.

In it he says, “the fire of love is not commonly felt at the outset.” He says that “individuals generally do not perceive this love in the beginning.” “Instead of this love which is enkindled afterward, they harbor, in the midst of the dryness and emptiness of their faculties, a habitual care and solicitude for God accompanied by grief or fear about not serving him.”

Fair enough. But I’m getting so confused by St. John’s prerequisites for giving up discursive prayer and letting oneself enter into quiet prayer. In the Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. II, ch. 13, he says that the third and decisive sign for this transition is that the person likes to remain, “alone in loving awareness of God.”

I doubt St. John is contradicting himself, but I’m not sure how to reconcile the necessity of this as a sign to pass into quiet prayer with the inability of people who are making the transition to experience this. There must be, then, a period when one makes the transitions without first having the ‘general loving awareness.’

Your thoughts would be appreciated, again.

-Rob
 
I might as well add one more question on to it.

I continued from chapter 10 to chapter 11, of bk. 1 in the Dark Night.

In it he says, “the fire of love is not commonly felt at the outset.” He says that “individuals generally do not perceive this love in the beginning.” “Instead of this love which is enkindled afterward, they harbor, in the midst of the dryness and emptiness of their faculties, a habitual care and solicitude for God accompanied by grief or fear about not serving him.”

Fair enough. But I’m getting so confused by St. John’s prerequisites for giving up discursive prayer and letting oneself enter into quiet prayer. In the Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. II, ch. 13, he says that the third and decisive sign for this transition is that the person likes to remain, “alone in loving awareness of God.”

I doubt St. John is contradicting himself, but I’m not sure how to reconcile the necessity of this as a sign to pass into quiet prayer with the inability of people who are making the transition to experience this. There must be, then, a period when one makes the transitions without first having the ‘general loving awareness.’

Your thoughts would be appreciated, again.

-Rob
Does that have anything to do with the night of the sense? orednet.org/~jflory/night_of_sense.htm Tim
 
Does that have anything to do with the night of the sense? orednet.org/~jflory/night_of_sense.htm Tim
Ah, that’s beautiful. Thanks TOP. I’m not very sure about what name corresponds to what, but I do know John is talking about the transition from discursive meditation to quiet in prayer, exactly what Keating’s excerpt is talking about.

I was unaware the Living Flame of Love spoke of this (not having read it, it doesn’t surprise me that I didn’t know about it). This “Collected Works” of St. John is sure handy for browsing. Does he cite a particular portion of the Living Flame of Love? I didn’t see it there, but perhaps someone with a hard copy of the book knows. I suppose it would be near the beginning. Sounds like a very good passage.

-Rob
 
I’m home sick with a horrible ear infection, so this has been a great opportunity to spend some quiet time for me. Everything that I’ve seen posted is great stuff. It all points in the same direction. Whether you subscribe to Carmelite, Franciscan, Benedictine or Eastern Orthodox or other form of Christian spirituality, isn’t it interesting how it all points to a love affair with God.

I agree that St. Teresa’s point on discursive prayer was that this was not her experience, but she didn’t rule it out.

The Eastern Fathers were very emphatic on Agape love, which in the experience of Catherine of Siena would be akin to the Mystical Marriage, heavy stuff.

I don’t know if I failed to mention it or not; but, yes Francis of Assisi built in a great deal of time alone. During his early stages he seemed to spend a great deal of it at Mt. Subasio. Which by the way, I visited several years ago and I can understand why it would be an attractive place to look for God. It’s one of the most beautiful places that I’ve ever been to.

Catherine Doherty, a contemplative of the 20th century who spent most of her life just outside of Toronto built an entire community of secular men and women that centred around the postinia (sp?), which is a hermitage. Some of you may have heard of Madonna House. It’s not just a place, it’s a movement. The point being that one takes time from one’s active life to stand alone before God and let God be God.

The notion that spirituality and personality is a match is very Thomistic. St. Thomas Aquinas probably borrowed from Aristotle’s teaching on the moods which was his way of describing human personality.

In essence, which ever road one takes, if it is truly evangelical, it always leads to a deeper knowledge and love of God. Of course, with that comes the desire to do God’s will. Nonetheless, contemplation doesn’t just pop up. One must order or structure one’s life to exclude those things that make it difficult to hear the voice of God. This is why the Fathers went to the desert; Francis went to Subasio and Alverno. Even if it’s just for short periods one must exclude all other preoccupations and interests. It is equally important that in this process of seeking silence and solitude one distinguish between exclusion and irresponsibility. The parent is still a parent. The priest is still a priest and the worker is still a labourer. God does not call us to abandon our responsibilities. He calls us to union with him so that we can approach our duties, whatever they are, filled with his divine life. If we examine the Gospels, we see Jesus actively engaged in ministry, but breaking away to be alone with the Father.

I liked the fact that someone used the term the Beloved. Henri Nouwen wrote a book by that title. I’m not sure if it’s in print. But he describes contemplation as spending time with the Beloved. We see in the Gospel, Jesus constantly takes time for the Beloved, to commune with him, to discern his will, to praise him, to pray for the world. I’m moved by Gethsemane where scripture tells us that at the end he submits to the will of the Beloved (The Father). This is the sign of true contemplation, when one sees the will of the Father and takes a leap of faith, as Jesus did, “Your will be done, not mine.”

We also see Jesus in the desert fasting and praying. We see him tempted. This too is part of the way. Just because we find the space and time to be alone with God, does not mean that all of our attachments are behind us. In fact, the draw of those attachments intensifies. We have to be cleansed (purgation). We see Jesus use fasting and prayer. Acts of discipline (asceticism) and prayer go hand-in-hand. What is so beautiful is that in the end, the scriptures tell us that the angels came and ministered to him.

Obviously, Jesus did not know sin and had no reason to do penance or repent of anything. I believe that he takes this course as part of his ministry to the world. He is modelling the beginning of all people’s journey to the Father. One must begin with detachment, silence, solitude. There will be temptations. For some it will be the temptation to drop the whole thing. For others it can be the temptation to procrastinate, because this is not a good time or there is much to do. For others it can be self-doubt. We believe that we can’t achieve union with God, and so forth. What the evangelists make clear is that while at first the soul feels very much alone (spiritual dryness) and at the mercy of temptation, as Jesus appeared to be, in fact God is always there. What is beautiful to observe is that at the end of the experience, the angels minister to Jesus. I believe this is what the great mystics are talking about when they tell us that in the end, God takes over and reaches out to us.

I love to paraphrase the scripture, SHUT UP AND YOU’LL KOW THAT I AM GOD! :newidea:

What do you folks thinK?
 
Ah, that’s beautiful. Thanks TOP. I’m not very sure about what name corresponds to what, but I do know John is talking about the transition from discursive meditation to quiet in prayer, exactly what Keating’s excerpt is talking about.

I was unaware the Living Flame of Love spoke of this (not having read it, it doesn’t surprise me that I didn’t know about it). This “Collected Works” of St. John is sure handy for browsing. Does he cite a particular portion of the Living Flame of Love? I didn’t see it there, but perhaps someone with a hard copy of the book knows. I suppose it would be near the beginning. Sounds like a very good passage.

-Rob
I was informed about this by DBT, another forum member who is insightful on this stuff. I’m on the other side of the wall, experiencing, but not understanding and I don’t seem to want to understand all at this time. I can relate to what I read, but the timetables are all mixed up because of an intervention. I seem to be stuck in a rut I don’t understand at this time. Tim
 
In my opinion John of the Cross is saying that if you limit yourself to discursive meditation, you are always “doing” something. A part of every period of prayer should be, "Be still, and ‘know’ that I am God.

What is involved is a certain ‘detachment’ from (your) desires. Just be still, and “be.” If Our Lord takes you into infused contemplation, that is His will. If He does not, you have still gained spiritually.

When one attempts to be still with no attachments, he is bound to experience little ‘flirty’ (I don’t mean sensually) random thoughts that are distractions. One must be ‘detached’ from them as well. Let nothing ‘bind’ you. If they come, don’t become too exercised about them, let them float away and rest in a trustful ‘blindness.’ God’s light is blinding to we mortals, the only way to give the self to Him, is this total detachment from all things.
 
In my opinion John of the Cross is saying that if you limit yourself to discursive meditation, you are always “doing” something. A part of every period of prayer should be, "Be still, and ‘know’ that I am God.

What is involved is a certain ‘detachment’ from (your) desires. Just be still, and “be.” If Our Lord takes you into infused contemplation, that is His will. If He does not, you have still gained spiritually.

When one attempts to be still with no attachments, he is bound to experience little ‘flirty’ (I don’t mean sensually) random thoughts that are distractions. One must be ‘detached’ from them as well. Let nothing ‘bind’ you. If they come, don’t become too exercised about them, let them float away and rest in a trustful ‘blindness.’ God’s light is blinding to we mortals, the only way to give the self to Him, is this total detachment from all things.
I must apologize, for not giving wider context. I didn’t because at first I was only addressing Jim directly, who I assumed would know the context. It’s not fair to all the other readers to leave them in the dark (no pun intended :)).

In the context, St. John is discussing a definite transition in prayer from spiritual childhood, using a “remote means” of union to God, to more spiritual maturity in quiet prayer, which allows one to approach God by a “proximate means”-- by faith.

The only thing that really worries me is how much emphasis he puts on getting it right. Let me give some more excerpts. From Bk. II, ch. 13 in the Ascent
To avoid obscurity in this doctrine it will be opportune to point out in this chapter when one ought to discontinue discursive meditation (work through images, forms, and figures) so that the practice will not be abandoned sooner or later than required by the spirit. At the proper time one should abandon this imaginative meditation so that the journey to God may not be hindered, but, so that there is no regression, one should not abandon it before due time. For though the apprehensions of these faculties are not a proximate means to union for proficients, they are a remote means for beginners. By these sensitive means beginners dispose their spirit and habituate it to spiritual things, and at the same time they void their senses of all other base, temporal, secular, and natural forms and images.
Hence we will delineate some signs and indications by which one can judge whether it is the opportune time for the spiritual person to discontinue meditation.
and:
To leave safely the state of meditation and sense and enter that of contemplation and spirit, spiritual persons must observe within themselves at least these three signs together.
I totally agree with your point about infused prayer-- only if it is His will, and His gift.

-Rob
 
I must apologize, for not giving wider context. I didn’t because at first I was only addressing Jim directly, who I assumed would know the context. It’s not fair to all the other readers to leave them in the dark (no pun intended :)).

In the context, St. John is discussing a definite transition in prayer from spiritual childhood, using a “remote means” of union to God, to more spiritual maturity in quiet prayer, which allows one to approach God by a “proximate means”-- by faith.

The only thing that really worries me is how much emphasis he puts on getting it right. Let me give some more excerpts. From Bk. II, ch. 13 in the Ascent

and:

I totally agree with your point about infused prayer-- only if it is His will, and His gift. -Rob
Rob

As I was reading your post I couldn’t help but admire your insight into John of the Cross, because at times he is very difficult to follow. I believe that part of the difficulty lies in the fact that the man is not only a mystic, but also a poet.

If you can read Spanish, I would strongly recommend that you read his writing in his native tongue. Believe it or not, they are much easier than the English translations. I had the good fortune of being able to read them in Spanish. They were still deep and required much thought and discussion. I remember our classes on St. John; we always walked out with a headache, LOL. However, as we followed the flow of the poetry and the cadence, his words made more sense.

In the original Spanish one gets a different perspective. He doesn’t come across as emphatic on getting it right, as much as warning the individual to look for the signs that one is ready to transition. My take on it was that he was warning the reader not to rush through this process, but to let the Spirit guide you. A phrase that he uses in Spanish, loosely translated into English, don’t get ahead of yourself.

When you couple him with Teresa, the message is much clearer. Basically, God does the leading, as in two people dancing. One leads and one follows. The approach to prayer requires a detachment, even from the way that we pray, such as words, imagination and other. They are there for our use as beginners and we should not be afraid to use them, but we should not be afraid to let go of them either. At some point the Spirit will draw us further along the path, if we’re open to his guidance.

Teresa clarifies it a little better than John. I guess she’s more practical and he’s more the poet. She reflects on her own experience as having to let God do his work. To achieve this point she had to learn to accept the quiet moments and even the dry moments. This is probably the most difficult trial in prayer. We have to allow for silence.

Also, in the Spanish version, the importance of faith over feeling is very carefully explained, not as abandoning feeling, words or imagination, but as surrendering them to God who uses them to communicate with us. He uses very poetic allegory which translates poorly into English as we don’t have some of those words in our language. As best as I can translate it, it’s the traditional teaching of St. Thomas, graces building on nature. I’m not a scholar in Spanish Literature, so take my interpretation with a grain of salt.

Finally, both John and Teresa agree that infused prayer is not what we should be deliberately looking for, as this only happens to some and only by the grace of God, which you alluded to at the end of your post.

A note of caution to all: The path down the contemplative life should always be guided by one who is an expert in the spiritual life. There have been individuals and movements in the Church of people who thought that they could achieve some kind of union with God, without the benefit of a Spiritual Director and the benefit of the Church. They ended up in serious spiritual trouble, because they ended up in an old version of what we call New Age Spirituality, which is actually a recycled version of an old cult to mysticism, rather than a relationship with God.
 
Hi Rob -

I think ontologysue summed things up very well in her last post. 🙂

While it all might sound very complicated when reading the Saints, the transition from meditation to contemplation is actually quite simple and natural. It is the shift in our prayer from ‘doing’ to ‘being.’ Part of this transition is our effort; part is God’s.

As we all know, in meditation we apply our minds to explore a particular mystery and its application in our life. The application of our intellect in this manner is what I mean by ‘doing’ for we are exerting the effort. But as you rightly stated, meditation is not a proximate means to union with God . . . for we can never grasp Him with our mind alone. Union with God, in the contemplative sense, means letting go of our thoughts and the activity of our mind to be with God as He is - in silence and solitude. And this, in a nutshell, is the “experience” of contemplation.

Here’s how the Saints describe how this transition typically occurs. Let’s say in the course of one’s meditation, the soul feels drawn to lay down its book to simply gaze at Him in the tabernacle. No particular thoughts go through your mind . . . you simply “look at Him while He looks at you.”

St. Teresa would call this recollection. St. John, in your earlier quotes, called it a “peaceful loving attentiveness.” But it is a vastly different kind of attention to God than in meditation . . . for now, in our simplicity, we are not indulging in any “big thoughts” but we are simply gently resting in Him . . . or just ‘being.’ Sure thoughts might enter our minds at such a time but they are not the focus anymore. Rather, these thoughts flow by like background noise while we are occupied in loving Him in an increasingly wordless, imageless, formless and non-conceptual way.

From this recollection the soul is literally on the cusp of infused contemplation, God willing. Perhaps, after a period of time of this simple gazing upon Him, the soul might instinctively feel an even deeper pull. As St. Teresa describes in Chapter 28 of “Way of Perfection” the eyes close and the soul begins to withdraw within itself “like a turtle drawing its head into its shell.” In this “place,” the soul feels profoundly at one with God . . . yet even here distractions can intrude in the form of unwanted thoughts, feelings or mental images. This is the Prayer of Quiet you asked about earlier. When these distractions cease entirely (i.e. suspended by God) and the soul is no longer aware of any thoughts at all - or even time itself - then the soul has been brought to the Prayer of Union.

This was probably a very clumsy explanation . . . but experience will show show that there is a very natural flow in all of this: meditation to recollection to quiet and perhaps even union itself.

Well, sorry for another rambling post. But hopefully something here helped. 🙂

Dave
 
Hi Rob -

I think ontologysue summed things up very well in her last post. 🙂

While it all might sound very complicated when reading the Saints, the transition from meditation to contemplation is actually quite simple and natural. It is the shift in our prayer from ‘doing’ to ‘being.’ Part of this transition is our effort; part is God’s.
Sounds great.
As we all know, in meditation we apply our minds to explore a particular mystery and its application in our life. The application of our intellect in this manner is what I mean by ‘doing’ for we are exerting the effort. But as you rightly stated, meditation is not a proximate means to union with God . . . for we can never grasp Him with our mind alone. Union with God, in the contemplative sense, means letting go of our thoughts and the activity of our mind to be with God as He is - in silence and solitude. And this, in a nutshell, is the “experience” of contemplation.
Sounds pretty neat. (I guess that’s an understatement.)
Here’s how the Saints describe how this transition typically occurs. Let’s say in the course of one’s meditation, the soul feels drawn to lay down its book to simply gaze at Him in the tabernacle. No particular thoughts go through your mind . . . you simply “look at Him while He looks at you.”
St. Teresa would call this recollection. St. John, in your earlier quotes, called it a “peaceful loving attentiveness.” But it is a vastly different kind of attention to God than in meditation . . . for now, in our simplicity, we are not indulging in any “big thoughts” but we are simply gently resting in Him . . . or just ‘being.’ Sure thoughts might enter our minds at such a time but they are not the focus anymore. Rather, these thoughts flow by like background noise while we are occupied in loving Him in an increasingly wordless, imageless, formless and non-conceptual way.
From this recollection the soul is literally on the cusp of infused contemplation, God willing. Perhaps, after a period of time of this simple gazing upon Him, the soul might instinctively feel an even deeper pull. As St. Teresa describes in Chapter 28 of “Way of Perfection” the eyes close and the soul begins to withdraw within itself “like a turtle drawing its head into its shell.” In this “place,” the soul feels profoundly at one with God . . . yet even here distractions can intrude in the form of unwanted thoughts, feelings or mental images. This is the Prayer of Quiet you asked about earlier. When these distractions cease entirely (i.e. suspended by God) and the soul is no longer aware of any thoughts at all - or even time itself - then the soul has been brought to the Prayer of Union.
This was probably a very clumsy explanation . . . but experience will show show that there is a very natural flow in all of this: meditation to recollection to quiet and perhaps even union itself.
Well, sorry for another rambling post. But hopefully something here helped. 🙂
No, I thought it was very good Dave. Obviously you aren’t going to be able to explain the unexplainable, but I think you’ve filled in the deficiencies in my understanding which may have been technically correct in some ways, but with the wrong spirit of understanding, as I think you, sue, and JR all pointed out (rightly).

Being able to just gaze on Him lovingly without all that labor sounds… so beautiful. I know, of course, that one must not seek contemplation. It is my lot to apply myself to living like Christ, and to be patient and persevere in prayer. But, that type of “sabbath rest” sounds like a nice thing. I like crunching things out with my intellect, but… well… that’s why it sounds all the more appealing.

“experience will show,” God willing, DBT. Being on this side of prayer (not having crossed out of discursive prayer), it’s hard for me to understand. I will have to redouble myself in patience and in purity of intention.

Speaking of patience, I couldn’t help laughing earlier when I read this quote. First St. John criticizes some beginners for “unhumble impatience” (hehe, not that I would know anything about that… “they want to become saints in a day,” lol). But at the end of the paragraph he says,

“Some, however, are so patient about their desire for advancement that God would prefer to see them a little less so.”

God bless,
-Rob
 
RobNY
  1. Are you just making the distinction, in the first paragraph, that contemplation is an infused prayer, and thus not something we do, but God does to us?
Yes, contemplation is the union of the soul to Christ. It is the action of His grace, not the method of prayer we use.
  1. In the second paragraph, are you just saying that contemplative prayer does occur, rarely, to people who have not ceased discursive prayer (a la St. John’s scheme)?
Not me, but St. Teresa who said this, although I agree with her. I don’t have the “Way of Perfection|” with me, or I would quote her.

Jim
 
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