Posts Tagged: Richard Rohr

“Passing Along the Love (and a Link)”

Several years ago, a friend of mine put me onto a daily meditation by Richard Rohr and friends. I don’t read them all the time, but I probably should. They are good! I thought that today’s writing was especially good, and I also figured that this would be a good way to post something. I get into bad habits (like procrastination) so easily. I also get out of good habits (like posting something every day) equally easily. So, perhaps tomorrow, you’ll get something written by me. God is a God of miracles! Consistency is a daily miracle which I need to cultivate.

So, here is the link. Enjoy!

https://centerforactionandcontemplation.forwardtomyfriend.com/d-ikikdkehl-C1E40D6B-euythjt-l-g

Down to Earth Believer

“The Perpetual Discomfort of Love”

“God is love.” “John, in 1 John 4:16)

“Love one another.” (Jesus, in John 13:34)

“Love your enemy.”  (Jesus, in Matthew 5:44)

“Love as I have loved you.” (Jesus, in John 13:34)

“In all their afflictions, he [i.e., God] was afflicted.” (Isaiah 63:9)

“. . . the perpetual discomfort of what love requires.” (Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation,

From the Center for Action and Contemplation

https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox/FMfcgxwChSHbTfsDLWjVHvdPRmchKQSH).

The last quote above is from a guest meditation from Richard Rohr’s website.  Rohr asked a mom and dad to share their thoughts about parenting.  Mom got to go first, which is as it should be.  She spoke of “ . . . the perpetual discomfort of what love requires.”

Yes!

We tend to think that love is a wonderful, pleasurable, joyous thing.  Sometimes, it is.  More often, it is not.

Don’t get me wrong: Love is an adventure.  However, as Bilbo Baggins said, “Adventures are nasty things that will make you late for dinner.”  And who wants to be late for dinner?

Still, we need adventure in our lives—even if we don’t want them.  Especially then.

In Isaiah 63:9, the prophet Isaiah says to people in exile, “God has gone through all the troubles that our ancestors went through.”  The implication is that God is with the exiles, too.  Apparently we have a God who is also willing to endure the perpetual discomfort of what love requires.  Some theologians (of a certain philosophical bent) refer to God as “the unmoved Mover.”  Perhaps they are right in a sense.

But in an even more profound sense, God is precisely the very moved Mover.  It would seem that we have a God who has sought out the adventure of love, no matter how much perpetual discomfort there is for Him in that adventure.

It is the same for us.  Love is an adventure, no matter the perpetual discomfort.  However, if we go on the adventure, we will eventually discover that we have a Great Companion—the God who accompanied Israel in its painful quest, the same God who became flesh and dwelt among us.

“In Praise of Emptiness”

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A good friend put me on to a wonderful (and free!) online resource by Richard Rohr.  You can read today’s meditation (May 12, 2019) at: https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox/FMfcgxwCgfvctSpSWpqGVVcTLTPJTlbX.

In this piece, Rohr speaks of the emptiness of God.  The piece is fairly short and well written.  You should read it!  I won’t try to summarize it, but it has set me to thinking.

Being empty is not usually considered a good thing by most of us, most of the time.  However, what if it is better than we usually are inclined to think?  Sometimes, when “we’ve got nothin’,” that is precisely when good things happen.  Fullness generally isn’t very receptive.  Emptiness can be.

Notice that I said that emptiness can be receptive.  Sometimes it isn’t.  If I am empty, but I’m hiding or denying my emptiness, then I really am empty.  And my emptiness becomes a wasteland where nothing can grow for long, including me.  I become death itself.

But emptiness recognized and admitted is like a garden waiting to be planted.  We just need to be careful that we are planting good, life-affirming things in that empty garden.

Perhaps that is, at least in part, what Jesus meant when he said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied” (Matthew 5:6, English Standard Version).  The tense of the Greek verbs translated “hunger” and “thirst” are in the present tense, which suggests ongoing, repetitive actions.  Apparently, we are blessed if we have a continual hunger and thirst for righteousness.  Note that it is not emptiness itself that is blessed, it is emptiness in search of righteousness.

But what does “righteousness” mean here?  Many of us in the Protestant tradition tend to think that every time the word “righteousness” occurs in the New Testament, it means “God’s righteousness, which was purchased at the cross for us by God’s Son, Jesus Christ.”  Such an understanding of righteousness does seem to be taught in parts of the New Testament—especially in Paul’s letters.

However, while I believe this is true, it is not the entire truth.  Righteousness also refers to a proper relationship with God that results in proper behavior.  Pennington defines righteousness in the Sermon on the Mount as follows: “In sum, I define ‘righteousness’ in Matthew as whole-person behavior that accords with God’s nature, will, and coming kingdom.[1]

Returning to God’s emptiness for a moment, I must confess that I had never thought of God as being empty.  Quite the contrary: I had always thought of God as full, indeed, as fullness itself.

But God certainly gives.  And God gives fully.  Therefore, there is a sense in which God is always emptying himself.

Always full, and always empty!  That’s what God is and does.  That is what we also are called to be and to do.


[1] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017), 91.

“THE GOD WHO IS EVERYWHERE AND EVERYWHEN”

1 For the choir director: A psalm of David. O LORD, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.

2 You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.

3 You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do.

4 You know what I am going to say even before I say it, LORD.

5 You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.

6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!

7 I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence!

8 If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.

9 If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans,

10 even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me.

11 I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night–

12 but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.” (Psalm 139:1-12, New Living Translation)

Friday, January 5, 2018

This morning, my devotions took an exceedingly quirky turn.  I am going on a personal weekend retreat with my good friend, Jerome, at Gethsemani.  I read the following in my 3-minute retreat from the Jesuits:

“Before you begin, spend several moments in silence. Take a few slow, deep breaths. Allow God’s presence to reveal itself in you.”

These are similar to most of these 3-minute retreats.  However, for some reason, the words “Allow God’s presence to reveal itself in you” riveted me.  I was suddenly overwhelmed with the Reality—the Reality that God was completely, redemptively present everywhere and everywhen in the universe.  He filled my little room, my little self, the most distant galaxies, everything. I was filled with, possessed by, wonder and joy.

And then, I read the following meditation from Richard Rohr (who is a Franciscan and not at Jesuit, by the way):

Week One

Introduction: Image and Likeness

Where Is God?
Friday, January 5, 2018

 

When I was on retreat at Thomas Merton’s hermitage at Gethsemani Abbey in 1985, I had a chance encounter that has stayed with me all these years. I was walking down a little trail when I recognized a recluse, what you might call a hermit’s hermit, coming toward me. Not wanting to intrude on his deep silence, I bowed my head and moved to the side of the path, intending to walk past him. But as we neared each other, he said, “Richard!” That surprised me. He was supposed to be silent. How did he know who I was? “Richard, you get chances to preach and I don’t. Tell the people one thing.” Pointing to the sky, he said, “God is not ‘out there’!” Then he said, “God bless you,” and abruptly continued down the path.

The belief that God is “out there” is the basic dualism that is tearing us all apart. Our view of God as separate and distant has harmed our relationships with sexuality, food, possessions, money, animals, nature, politics, and our own incarnate selves. This loss explains why we live such distraught and divided lives. Jesus came to put it all together for us and in us. He was saying, in effect, “To be human is good! The material and the physical can be trusted and enjoyed. This physical world is the hiding place of God and the revelation place of God!”

Far too much of religion has been about defining where God is and where God isn’t, picking and choosing who and what has God’s image and who and what doesn’t. In reality, it’s not up to us. We have no choice in the matter. All are beloved. Everyone—Catholic and Protestant, Christian and Muslim, black and white, gay and straight, able-bodied and disabled, male and female, Republican and Democrat—all are children of God. We are all members of the Body of Christ, made in God’s image, indwelled by the Holy Spirit, whether or not we are aware of this gift.

Can you see the image of Christ in the least of your brothers and sisters? This is Jesus’ only description of the final judgment (Matthew 25). But some say, “They smell. They’re a nuisance. They’re on welfare. They are a drain on our tax money.” Can we see Christ in all people, even the so-called “nobodies” who can’t or won’t play our game of success? When we can see the image of God where we don’t want to see the image of God, then we see with eyes not our own.

Jesus says we have to love and recognize the divine image even in our enemies. Either we see the divine image in all created things, or we don’t see it at all .Once we see God’s image in one place, the circle keeps widening. It doesn’t stop with human beings and enemies and the least of our brothers and sisters. It moves to frogs and pansies and weeds. Everything becomes enchanting with true sight. We cannot not live in the presence of God. We are totally surrounded and infused by God. All we can do is allow, trust, and finally rest in it, which is indeed why we are “saved” by faith—faith that this could be true.

Gateway to Presence:
If you want to go deeper with today’s meditation, take note of what word or phrase stands out to you. Come back to that word or phrase throughout the day, being present to its impact and invitation.

These “coincidences” during my devotions strike me as hardly being coincidental.  In any case, they invite me to think of God (and everyone and everything else in the universe) differently.

I am not so good at recognizing God everywhere, everywhen, and in everyone.  However, I’m working on it!

 

 

“THE RESTORATIVE JUSTICE OF GOD”

Many people associate the word “justice” with the penal system and retributive justice. Yet the prophets and Jesus clearly practiced what we now call “restorative justice.” Jesus never punished anybody. He undercut the basis for all violent, exclusionary, and punitive behavior. He became the forgiving victim so we would stop creating victims. He “justified” people by loving them and forgiving them at ever-deeper levels. ”  (Richard Rohr, from his September 22, 2017 post, “Nonviolence: Healing Our Social Wounds,” at https://cac.org/category/daily-meditations/, italics mine.  The entire post is well worth your time to read.)

A justice that restores, rather than punishes!  Sounds like a wonderful dream, doesn’t it?  It also sounds like a pipe dream.

Right after Rohr’s quote above, he writes the following lapidary paragraph:

“Punishment relies on enforcement and compliance but does not change the soul or the heart. Jesus held out for the heart; he restored people to their true and deepest identity. When the church itself resorts to various forms of shaming and punishment for “sin,” it is relying upon the retributive methods of this world and not the restorative methods of Jesus. We have a lot of growing up to do in the ways of Christ.”

Many of Jesus’ teachings, as well as his encounters with people, were exercises in restorative justice.  The story of the prodigal son—which should really be called “the story of the loving father and his two messed-up sons”—is about restorative justice.  (See Luke 15:11-32 for further details.)  The story of the Pharisee and the publican (Luke 18:9-14) is about God’s restorative justice, too.

In fact, I will make a bold, sweeping statement: Virtually everything Jesus said and did can be understood through the lens of restorative justice.  It could be said that Jesus’ first name is “Restorative,” and his middle name is “Justice.”

While that may be all very well and good in the case of Jesus, can regular people practice this restorative justice?  That is a very fine question indeed!

I have known a few people in my life who have practiced restorative justice.  I am thinking of my mom.  She was pretty good at restorative justice.  I remember a time when I was going through a very wild, lost period in my life.  She and I had some harsh words about my drinking, which was (of course) not really out of control—according to me.  I spent the night out drinking with a friend, and then passed out at his house and spent the night.

The next day, we were all supposed to get together at my brother’s house for lunch.  I almost didn’t go.  Partly, I was too sick from the liquid flu.  Partly, I did not want to face my mom.  But I went.

Mom and I hardly spoke.  My brother asked Mom to pray before we ate.  She asked God to bless the food, but then she began to cry and said, “And forgive us . . . forgive me . . . when I am unkind to others.”

Anger can be resisted.  But how do you defend yourself against humble kindness?

And then there is my wife.  She has practiced restorative justice many times with me.  She doesn’t even realize how rare and wonderful that is.  The fact that she doesn’t realize it makes it even more wonderful.

So, what will you and I do today?  Will we practice restorative justice today?  I’m certain we will have opportunities to do that.  The world is plum full of people that need restorative justice.  Keep your eyes peeled and your heart open!

“NAKED TO THE NOW”

 Today, by God’s grace, I will choose to live in the NOW.  I will enjoy the NOW as much as is possible, but endure whatever pain or discomfort there is in the NOW when necessary.  (My personal 12-step affirmation for July 1, 2017.)

It [i.e., prayer] offers itself naked to the now . . . .”  (Richard Rohr, meditation for June 30, 2017.)

I had crafted and sent my personal, 12-step affirmation to my sponsor before I read Rohr’s meditation for June 30.  I was quite struck by his emphasis on “the now,” especially in light of my affirmation.

Being naked is not an easy thing to be.  I have certainly never been comfortable being “naked to the now.”  I remember being nostalgic when I was nine years old.

And of course, the future is a huge distraction.  I used to wonder if I would be a success in the future?  I have no clue about that.  (On second thought, maybe I do have a clue: My wife said last night that she loved me more than ever.  How can I possibly be anything but a success, when my lady says she loves me more than ever?)

We sometimes speak of someone “facing an uncertain future.”  My question is, who doesn’t face an uncertain future?

But as painful as my own past choices and their consequences are, and as uncertain as the future is, I still try to avoid the now.

Why?

Perhaps I need to figure that out.

So, in the now, I am writing this post, sipping coffee that is swiftly getting cold, and watching the trees bending in occasional breezes.  The sky looks like rain.  My wife and I are going for a day trip, and I need to fix us some oatmeal.  What’s wrong with any of that?

Dear readers, I hope you can either endure your now or enjoy it.  I wish you an enjoyable and endurable NOW!

 

“BEYOND HOLY WILLFULNESS: LOVING GOD BECAUSE GOD LOVES ME”

Richard Rhor wrote some much-needed words for me in a post I read of his this morning.  (Okay!  So perhaps Rhor did have me particularly in mind, but it feels that way!)

In the Franciscan reading of the Gospel, there is no reason to be religious or to “serve” God except “to love greatly the One who has loved us greatly,” as Saint Francis said. . . .  Religion is not about heroic will power or winning or being right. This has been a counterfeit for holiness in much of Christian history. True growth in holiness is a growth in willingness to love and be loved and a surrendering of willfulness, even holy willfulness (which is still “all about me”).

Yes, I fear—and more than half suspect— that even my “holy willfulness” . . .  is still all about me.  So, is my willfulness really even holy?  The question answers itself.

Many years ago, my mom said to me, “Sometimes, I think that you think too much about improving yourself, and not enough about other people!”

I have heard it said that, if you throw a brick at a bunch of dogs and one of them yelps, it means you hit it.  When Mom said that, I definitely yelped.  (I am not advocating, by the by, throwing bricks at dogs!)

I am going to let Rohr have the last word.  “Doing anything and everything solely for God is certainly the most purifying plan for happiness I can imagine. It changes the entire nature of human interaction and eliminates most conflict.”  (For his entire meditation, see his website and the meditation for June 22, 2017, accessed 06-22-2017.)

“ACTION AND THINKING”

 

“One of the CAC’s Core Principles is: ‘We do not think ourselves into a new way of living, but we live ourselves into a new way of thinking.’”  (Richard Rohr, https://cac.org/category/daily-meditations/, accessed 05-29-2016).

. . .

“Franciscan alternative orthodoxy doesn’t bother fighting popes, bishops, Scriptures, or dogmas. As stated in another of CAC’s core principles, ‘The best criticism of the bad is the practice of the better. Oppositional energy only creates more of the same.’ This alternative orthodoxy quietly but firmly pays attention to different things—like simplicity, humility, non-violence, contemplation, solitude and silence, earth care, nature and other creatures, and the “least of the brothers and sisters.”  (Richard Rohr, https://cac.org/category/daily-meditations/, accessed 05-29-2016).

Move a muscle, change a thought.”  (Twelve-step saying.)

Having mused yesterday about my tendency to overvalue and too narrowly define “productivity,” I want to come in with a good word for action, especially in relation to thinking.

I often fall into the trap of thinking that thinking precedes action.  In a sense, that is true—or, at least, it should be true.  I do indeed need to think before I act.

However, I also need to remember that action often needs to come first.  I remember many years ago participating in a class that was built on an action-contemplation model.  We were supposed to do ministry tasks, and then contemplate what we had done.  I hated the class!

But why did I hate the class?  Perhaps I hated it because I would much rather sit around and think (and talk!) about things, rather than actually doing something.  I remind me of the definition of a committee: “A committee is a group of people talking about what they should be doing.”  I am a one-man committee!

What would happen, if I were to put action first?  I might do some better thinking, for one thing.  For another, I might get more done.

Of course, the truth is that I need to do both, moving back and forth between the two.  Better action leads to better thinking, which leads to better action, and so on.

The name of Richard Rohr’s organization is “The Center for Action and Contemplation.”  I suspect that, Like Rohr, I need to put action first and contemplation (and thinking) second.

Sorry to cut this post off abruptly, but I need to go do something!  I’ll think about it and contemplate later.

 

 

 

“Paul’s Way of Thinking and Writing”

Thanks to a good friend, I am now receiving the meditations of Richard Rohr.  He is very good!  Rohr’s works suggest to me that the daily struggles are also an opportunity for daily growth.  According to Rohr, Paul was a both/and thinker, rather than an either/or thinker.

I think that Rohr is right.  I call Paul’s means of communication as “BOOM! and back off.”  What I mean by this is that the Apostle Paul will communicate a truth to his reader.  It will be very strong.  Indeed, it is often a categorical statement—almost too strong.  In other words, “BOOM!

But then, immediately, Paul will make a balancing statement.  That is the “back off.”

Perhaps a couple of examples will illustrate what I mean.

Philippians 2:12b: “Work hard to show the results of your salvation, obeying God with deep reverence and fear.”  (“back off.”)

Philippians 2:13: “For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him.”  (“back off.”)

Galatians 2:20a: “My old self has been crucified with Christ.”  (“BOOM!”)

Galatians 2:20b: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.”  (“back off.”)

Of course, I could also say that Paul tends to be more balanced than he is often thought to be.  However, “balance” is such a boring word.  And whatever you think about Paul, there aren’t many folks who would call him boring.

On the other hand, Paul’s vivid communication style can and does lead to misunderstandings.  Some of us tend to hear the first statement and ignore the second one.  Some reverse the order of what we hear.  Some hear only one side of what Paul says and radically disagree.  Others hear only one side of what Paul says, and agree.

As in every case of human communication, there is always a high probability of miscommunication.  Alan Greenspan is reported to have said, “I know you think you understand what you thought I said but I’m not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant.”  The same might be said of those of us who think we understand Paul.

I’ll close with these wonderful words concerning Paul from Rohr:

“He now knows that he is both sinner and saint, as we too must trust. Once the conflict has been overcome in you, and you realize you are a living paradox and so is everyone else, you begin to see life in a truly spiritual and compassionate way, which demands that you let go of your too easy dualisms.

Paul often presents two seemingly opposing ideas, such as weakness and strength, flesh and spirit, law and grace, faith and works, Jew and Greek, male and female. Our normal, dualistic thinking usually wraps itself fully around one side and then fully dismisses the other—thinking this is truth—when it is much more just a need for control or righteousness. Like Jesus, Paul invites you to wrestle with the paradox. If you stay with him in the full text, you’ll see he usually comes to a reconciliation on a higher level, beyond the conflict that he himself first illustrates. Many readers just stay with the initial dualistic distinction he makes and then dislike Paul. It seems you must first seek an often dualistic clarity about the tension—but then grace takes you to a higher level of resolution instead of just choosing sides.  Some of us call this “third way” thinking—beyond the usual fight or flight responses.”

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