This chapter of Casey's struck me at a very important and vulnerable place.
I have been very skeptical of forms of spirituality that seemed "all about feeling", such as the semi-ecstatic forms of prayer that I experienced in charismatic gatherings for instance. Authenticity has always been important to me, and when I was in such gatherings surrounded by apparently ecstatic people I felt ill at ease. I just did not feel like putting my hands in the air or using the other gestures and mannerisms that I saw others using. And I resented the implication, sometimes put into words, that I "was not open" or "did not possess the Spirit."
As such one of my favorite expressions became "just because you think you feel the Spirit doesn't mean you 'possess' the Spirit. And just because you don't 'feel the Spirit' does not mean that the Spirit is not there."
I still think that strictly speaking that statement is true. But Casey's gentle words lead me into wishing to be more gentle both with others and with myself. He speaks of the classical understanding of the role of "spiritual pleasure", in Latin "delectatio", in a life lived "towards God"--to invite us and lead us into relationship. And I like what Casey says about the source of spiritual satisfaction--that with time, when by God's mercy we acquire the gift and habit of stillness and of listening, prayer begins to spring up from a deep place that is not in fact our "emotions" per se. But in a real relationship there is an ebb and flow of feeling, sensation, including desolation. My friendships and deepest loves have all of these moments and more. Why should my relationship with God have any less depth and complexity and texture?
This chapter is healing in ways that I find difficult to put into words. Perhaps that is part of what the traditional notion of "compunction" is--to be pierced, and moved from indifference to caring.
1 comment:
Hmmm....feelings and prayer. As I read these chapters I keep thinking that I've been praying "all wrong" -- even though I now that's not possible. Casey keeps inviting me to a stronger contemplative form, and let's face it, I'm just too antsy and task-driven.
But it makes me wonder if I'm missing out on something that could be really wonderful. Quieting the mind because prayer is subtle. God is subtle. This form of meditation that doesn't require blanking out the mind or emotions. The possibility of experiencing feelings enlivened by God for my own healing. And not just feelings generated out of some personal history or unresolved wounding. And these feelings from God may be felt very differently than what I produce on my own. I want to think more about Casey's observation that our feelings have been ravaged and trivialized by the culture -- how has that affected me and my experience of myself and God? How can I minimize the effects of this?
I must say I'm a bit reluctant to experience compunction. Even though I know the aftereffects would be good. It's just hard work to remain "tender-hearted in the presence of God and not fear to be acted upon and moved in our prayer." This is a great act of surrender to God and a great trust that I will be cared for. Risky business...as are all transformative relationships.
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