In Spiritual Growth, Q is for Quotidian Mysteries

quo·tid·i·an, adjective 

     1. of or occurring every day; daily.
    2. ordinary or everyday, especially when mundane.

mys·ter·ies, plural noun

     1.  the condition or quality of being secret, strange, or difficult to explain.
     2.  a religious belief based on divine revelation, especially one regarded as beyond human understanding.

I love these two concepts together; ordinary and secret. And the idea of being altogether too “difficult to explain.”

This issue came up in a spiritual direction session just this week. I was asked, “As Christians, shouldn’t we stand out, do something important, be remarkable? Most of my days, are filled with the ordinary and mundane tasks that everyone fulfills. But I can’t leave my job and my family to serve those in need.”

I admit it, I’ve felt this way too. I remember the first hint. I had just left the corporate world, to begin a life as a stay-at-home mother. I loved what I was doing, but it was hard, physically and emotionally. I found great support in a women’s Bible study at a local church.

In this Bible study, I learned about the exciting events of the early church; miracles, shipwrecks, foreign cultures. But I was bound to the daily grind of diapers, bottles, and temper tantrums. I felt that my gifts were meant for more than managing the bodily functions of two active boys.

I recall a specific moment, rocking my colicky son, gazing longingly out the window, I thought, “Surely God, I’m meant for more that this?” And in that moment, God gave me no such assurance.

“Actually Lisa, you are meant for exactly this, at this time. This IS your mission field.”

Not what I was hoping to hear, but an idea that has been a significant motivation for how I do, what I do.

In monastic communities, there is a person selected to fill the role of “Cellarer.” The cellarer is in charge of the storeroom (cellarium), and is called to a wide range of responsibilities, including the distribution of goods, and the care of kitchen vessels and other ordinary items. Although having a rather boring role to fulfill, the cellarer has always been highly esteemed in monastic communities. In the Rule of St. Benedict, the cellarer is charged to “look upon all the vessels and good of the monastery as though they were the consecrated vessels of the altar.”

I like this idea, even the most ordinary objects of the monastery are to be treated in the same fashion as the sacred altar objects. This is something I can imitate. Every diaper changed, every dish washed, every memo sent, or spreadsheet created … every boring, mundane act, can be performed as a sacred act of worship.

Most of us are not called to a life in a far away, exotic place. Most of us are called right where we are, in the middle of the mundane, everyday life we’re leading. And like the Benedictine cellarer, we can enter the mystery of the Quotidian, and see the redemption of all things, even our daily tasks.

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In our efforts to Grow Spiritually, it is foundational that we understand who God really is.

A tool I have used in teaching about God is he THREE famous “omni” statements; Omniscience, Omnipresence, and Omnipotence. I’m sure you’ve heard of these:

• Omniscience – that part of God that is all-knowing. A comfort during time of or own uncertainty.
• Omnipresence – that part of God that is everywhere, at all times.  A comfort when we feel like God might be busy, somewhere else, with more important things than our situation, and finally,
• Omnipotence – that part of God that is all powerful! A comfort when life is overwhelming, and we feel like we have no control.

It was just this week that I learned a new Omni-attribute about God, Omnibenevolence. Doing a little research, I find a big, duh.

Omnibenevolence; from Latin omni meaning “all”, bene meaning “good”, and volent meaning “willing”

A new word to me, but certainly not a new concept. God is the source of all good things, but our ideas about “goodness” might vary from His.

As a Spiritual Director, I have found that this issue is the source of a lot of contention for a lot of us, as we attempt to understand God.

We’ve all asked, “If God is the source of all goodness, why does He allow, ______________?”  fill in the blank with your concern.

Spiritual Growth is all about the willingness to wrestle with these the contradictions. Contradictions between what we know about God and what we see around us. God’s shoulders are broad enough to take on your biggest questions. If you were to fill in the blank above, what would you say? Leave me a comment below!

It took me some time to actually sit down and read Merton. Honestly, I was intimidated by his reputation. I thought he might be too advance for me, so I began by trying to take in some of his quotes. Here’s a few of my favorites:

He wrote a lot on love:

“Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love, and this love itself will render both ourselves and our neighbors worthy.” 

He wrote a lot on silence and solitude:

“The world of men has forgotten the joys of silence, the peace of solitude which is necessary, to some extent, for the fullness of human living.” 

And he also wrote a lot on suffering:

“The more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt. The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most.” 

Years ago, I was invited to a retreat at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, in Conyers, GA. They had a beautiful exhibit all about the history of the monastery. I was surprised to find Brother Louis (Merton’s monk name) pictured among the monks who built the monastery. It was fascinating to see him, just one of the community, working to lay brick, or cut wood. It peaked my curiosity, and I began researching his life.

I noticed some time ago, it is difficult for me to learn from any theologian unless I experience them in the context of their life. Their story teaches me as much as their theology. Merton’s life story was no different. I found him to be a real person, with a real life. Complete with struggles, failures, and small triumphs, just like myself.

Since then I have read Merton’s work with a fresh perspective. I have found his most profound writing in a collection of his Journals, “Entering the Silence: Becoming A Monk and Writer,” edited by Jonathan Montaldo.

These personal reflections touch quiet places within me, and I find myself no longer in the presence of a man’s whose reputation intimidates me. No, I find myself in the presence of fellow traveler, on the same path to God as myself. He, obviously, is bit further on the road than me.

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Tomorrow, N is for NOUWEN
(who was also influenced by the writings of Thomas Merton)

It wasn’t until I began to understand God’s kindness towards me, that I began to extend that kindness to myself.

I found a quote from C.S. Lewis, that I customarily transferred into the opening page of each new journal I began – I did this for years, until the quote stuck fast in my heart,

The hardness of God is kinder than the softness of men.  – C.S. Lewis, “Surprised by Joy.”

I grew up viewing God as continually disappointed with my lack of perfection. Something, I’m sure carried over from my childhood. Born in the late 50s, I was raised in the post WWII era, where everything in life, was tied – somehow – to my ability to live in response to the wonderfulness of my culture. A culture that had been protected by great, hardworking people. Many of them, gave their lives to protect me from the tyranny of Communism. I owed them my best.

Born with a temperamental inclination towards rule following, I mostly did a good job of being perfect, at least in my parents’ view. I was able to hold up the façade for some time.

Then the first big failure in college – then a series of choices, that compounded the failure – then the oppression of hiding my lack of perfection. And so, the ball of self-judgment and disappointment began to roll. It was easier to hide from God (and my parents) than admit my imperfection.

Then a season of desperation, and I returned to God in humility. In my weakness, I found Him to be a loving, forgiving God. A God that gently smiled when I explained the events that took me down the road, away from His light. He never beat me up, and has kindly guided me along my way.

Why are we so hard on ourselves, when God isn’t? Why do we insist on pursuing the image of who we think we’re supposed to be? I think the problem is that there’s still a little bit of the Garden of Eden in us. I think the problem is perfectionism.

When you think of it, perfection is in our DNA. We were created perfect, and designed to live in a perfect place, experiencing a perfect relationship with our Creator. Deep inside we KNOW perfection is the goal. But here’s the truth, we’re all on a journey to that GOAL. In theology, it’s called the Process of Sanctification. And here’s the kicker, God knows. He gets it.

At this writing, we’re right in the middle of Holy Week. The events of Christ’s betrayal, torture, and death, are upon us. As we walk through the ancient ritual of remembering what was done on our behalf, I believe we are required to show ourselves kindness. If God thought we were worth Christ’s great sacrifice, shouldn’t we live people who believe it too?

This week, ease up on the pressure, be kind to yourself, and rest in God’s love.

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“For me, reason is the natural organ of truth; but imagination is the organ of meaning.” ― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Great quote from C.S. Lewis about the importance of the imagination. I love Lewis, not because he was a great theologian, but because he had an incredible imagination. Through his imagination, he made complex ideas and thoughts, real and understandable.

In my own study of God, little of what I read in the Bible meant much to me until I started thinking in terms of stories. Using my imagination to understand the people I found there.

I knew facts about Jesus, but He didn’t come alive until I spent time contemplating how he interacted with people. How He met each person where they were, how he treated them, how he showed them his love and acceptance.

As I started putting myself in their shoes, I gained a greater understanding of myself, and Him.

The story of the “Woman at the Well” has been a transformative story for me. I imagine how the woman must have felt. Busy with her mundane life, carrying water so that she can complete her domestic tasks. I imagine her back hurts, as does mine. I marvel at her ability to verbally spar with Jesus – and I marvel that He permits it.

Not having tools to draw water from the well, Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.”

Knowing her lowly state in life, and that she’s usually ignored or harassed, she retorts back,

“How is it that You, being a Jew, ask a drink from me, a Samaritan Woman?”

When we hear that word Samaritan, we think on the story of the “Good Samaritan.” It’s a good thing, right? To be a Samaritan? Actually, no, it isn’t a good thing, especially to a Jew.

Jesus continues, almost teasing her,

“If you knew the gift of God, and who is it who says to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.”

She volleys back, I hear a bit of my own sarcasm in her response,

“Sir, You have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep. Where then do You get that living water? Are You greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well, and drank from it himself, as well as his sons and his livestock?” She forms a solid argument.

Jesus is about to unload some heavy theology on her, “Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.”

She takes the bait,

“Sir, give me this water, that I may not thirst, nor come here to draw.” She is tired.

Their back-and-forth gives me permission to spar with Jesus about my own issues. She shows me I don’t have to be afraid to confront the contradictions I see. Through my imagination, I identify with her, and I learn about myself, and Christ.

As you work to grow Spiritually, don’t neglect your imagination. Reason and imagination are both necessary to progress in the spiritual life.

Years ago, I learned about a modality that helps sharpen your imagination to the Gospel Stories. I created a worksheet that explains the process. It’s called Ignatian Contemplation. If you’re interested in giving it a try, use the box below, and I’ll send you a copy.

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PS – I recently wrote about the difference between Meditation and Contemplation, you can read that here if you missed it.