Reading as Spiritual Practice
The SCL Street Library
“What I came to see…is that reading is all about love. The little word–eros, agape, caritas. The trace in us of the Transcendant Other, who loves all creation, who calls us to ever greater self-transcending love for and communion with all. Our reading can display the whole world and universes of people to us for our cherishing. So that maybe when we have put down whatever book we are reading, we will have taken one more step toward finding our true selves, “God in you as you,” as Dunne said; the God who is love. Reading helps us, helps me, to love…”
~Nancy M. Malone, OSU
in “Reading with New Eyes: A Spirituality of Reading,” Sojourners,
December 2004, 8-12.
St. Hedwig and Community Building
At a retreat last week, we were given Stephanie Paulsell’s article “A saint for hard times” to read and reflect on during Sabbath rest. In the article, Paulsell nominates St. Hedwig, a strong and focused woman – a 13th century mother of seven and a builder of communities centered on prayer, learning, and service, as the patron saint for these economic times.
Paulsell writes (emphasis mine):
“Even if our country does come together to mend our broken health care system and improve our struggling schools, many of the institutions we cherish will remain deeply vulnerable. There is no bailout coming for institutions devoted to prayer, learning and service. There is no rescue program for the seminaries where future ministers study, no check in the mail for the churches, shelters and prison chaplaincies that minister to the bodies and souls of those whom society has rendered invisible. Hedwig has a message for us: if we long for communities devoted to prayer and study, communities in which needs are met with compassionate attention, we are going to have to build and sustain those communities ourselves.“
Cross-Posting
In a post last month, I wrote about the new ministry that Jim and I are nurturing. I’m writing about that work, The SCL Street Library, on another blog because it seemed to me, just a few weeks ago, to be distinctly different and separate from the writing I do here. I suppose it seemed more focused and headed-in-a-definite-direction than the more uncertain, meandering path I find myself walking in wonder on this blog.
I was wrong.
It is the same path, the same journey; I have the same sense of following and being led by Inner Voice. Contemplation births and nutures the action, yes, AND action and interaction informs my prayer – makes me more awake and aware and sensitive in contemplative listening: prayer moves me to action which moves me to prayer/listening moves me to service which moves me to listen.
One life. One path. It is always in the One. It is only about the One.
So if you’re reading both blogs, you’re going to notice some cross-posting. I just can’t keep the wondering and wandering words from this contemplative heart and the words about the work to which that heart has been called on separate pages or in different places. Not when every word reflects the experience of this one heart in the One.
Living Grace
A couple of weeks ago, Lynn Bauman posted thoughts about grace:
“Grace is simply loving generosity of spirit. The spirit and temper of Divine Reality is abundance and generosity. God loves to give unstintingly. This is in the very nature of the Divine. To be generous is to be Divine.
You have known generous people, of course, whose hearts and lives simply give and give—such is their inner constitution (their inner nobility). That is grace! That generous self-giving heart and attitude that wants to give itself away for the good of others without precondition or hesitation is grace. And that is the way God is, and that is eternal love always, which is always there for us, and teaching us this grace. It therefore has implications for the way we live.”
Grace is impossible to subdue. Love insists on breaking through even the greatest tragedy. From Dr. Mark Hyman’s post this morning:
“In the park at the center of Port au Prince thousands of people slept outside – sitting talking, laughing, living while death was all around them. There was peace and calm and cooperation and acceptance among the people, even laughter and smiles. And the patients — no homes, no water, no food, nothing at all to soothe them except their humanity. Haitians danced and sang in the streets celebrating life and the human spirit’s capacity to survive. There was nothing to be happy about, and an unimaginable tragedy to mourn. We drove by the collapsed palace and ministries of health. No one was spared. There were 150 nurses still trapped in the rubble of the nursing school building on the grounds of the General Hospital, the epicenter of medical care in this ravaged city.
We arrived at the largest hospital in the country, the General Hospital, and were greeted by Dr. Lassegue, the director — a balding man with a wide toothy smile. He had not slept in three days, or barely eaten or drunken water. Yet he was smiling, happy to see us, happy to be able to serve and help.”
That is grace.
