MattAndJojang's Blog

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As we begin talking about God, I need to sound an important warning: We must be careful how we speak of seeking God. It is not the same as seeking some object, say, a new car or a new house. We must not reduce God to the status of an “object” or a “thing,” as if God were something that could be grasped or possessed in the way we possess riches or knowledge or some other created entity. Nor must we seek God outside ourselves…

For God is not an “object” or “thing.” God’s infinity, as the word implies, knows no boundaries; hence we cannot “define” God as we define things in the world… If we are to line up all the beings that exist or ever have existed, God would not be one of them. This is to say God is not one of the beings God created. Rather God is the Source from which all beings derive and the ground in which they are continually sustained.

In a letter to a young Indian student in Cracow, Poland, Merton writes of the naive atheism of nineteenth-century scientism:

“They think that religious people believe in a God who is simply a ‘being’ among other beings, part of a series of beings, an ‘object’ which can be discovered and demonstrated. This of course is a false notion of God, the Absolute, the source and origin of all Being, beyond all beings and transcending them all and hence not to be sought as one among them.”

As soon as we verify God’s presence as an object of exact knowledge, God eludes us.

Now if God is not to be sought among the beings we know in this life, it follows that we cannot know God as we know created things. This makes sense does it not? Yet at the same time it is true that what we know about God we can know only through created things. For created things, insofar as they are real, participate in a limited way in the qualities and perfections of the One who alone is Absolutely Real. There is, as it were, “something of God” in every creature that exists. In experiencing creatures, we experience that “something of God.”

The words we use to describe creatures, therefore, can serve as metaphors or symbols that enable us to have some knowledge of God. As I write this, I can look out the window of my office and through that window I can get some very limited understanding of the universe. Compared to the immensity of the universe, what I know by looking out that window is practically nothing. Even if I looked through many windows and in different directions, the knowledge of the universe I would attain will be skimpy at best. Modern technology has made it possible for astronauts  to see the earth from out in space. Even that is meager knowledge compared to the entire universe, and while their knowledge increases quantitatively (they see more), it decreases qualitatively (they see less clearly). They cannot from their place in space see the earth in detail that I can see through my window.

The ideas, the concepts, the images, the symbols, the metaphors we use to describe God are like those windows through which we look out through the universe. They are images of created things  which, because there is “something of God” in them, can tell us something about God. Thus, in the image we have of a person we call “father” we can see something of God and hence can speak of God as “father.” (though some people have poor experiences of  ”father” and for this reason find it difficult to describe God as “father”). In someone we call “mother” we can also experience “something of God” and, therefore, we can use the name “mother” to describe God. And there are many other images we can use, lover, spouse, guide, helper, to name a few. In a certain sense we can say “the more the merrier,” since each image, each concept, can give a different insight into God we can never know in any total sort of way.

Our language about God, then, is always inadequate. One way of putting this is to say that our experience of God is continually outstripping what we are able to say about the experience. Listen to Merton:

“As soon as we light these small matches which are our concepts: ‘intelligence,’ ‘love,’ ‘power,’ the tremendous reality of God Who infinitely exceeds all concepts suddenly bears down upon us like a dark storm and blows out all their flames.”

At the same time we must not underestimate the value and importance of the rich imagery that the Bible and our culture offer us. The richer the imagery, the more deeply will we be able to know about God through God’s creation. But let us be very clear: there is a huge difference between knowing about God through God’s creation and knowing God as God is in the divine Self. Knowing about God is “mediated” knowledge, that is, we know God through an intermediary. This normally is what we think of when we speak of God. And some would say: This is enough. Short of heaven and the beatific vision, we can only know God through the medium of creatures God made.

But there is a long tradition, the contemplative or mystical tradition – a tradition that was most congenial to Thomas Merton’s approach to spirituality – which claims we can know God immediately. This is to say that we can know the divine reality as It is in Itself, and not simply through the medium of images, metaphors, ideas, concepts. But to do this we have to turn off the lights of our mind, that is, we have to go beyond concepts and ideas. This means going into darkness. For when you turn off light you are in darkness. It also means going beyond words that would try to describe God. But to go beyond words is to go in silence. In darkness and silence the only light we have is faith, whereby we grasp God or rather we are grasped by God. Thus, when all of our concepts and images admit that they cannot truly know God, love cries out: “I know God!”

To put this another way, in contemplation we come to know that our very being is penetrated through and through with God’s love. God is the hidden ground of love in all that is. Hence as Merton puts it:

“Our knowledge of God is paradoxically a knowledge not of God as the object of scrutiny, but of ourselves as utterly dependent on his saving and merciful knowledge of us… We know him in and through ourselves in so far as his truth is the source of our being and his merciful love is the very heart of our life and existence.”

Knowing God in the darkness of a love that goes beyond all that human reason can know is the greatest joy and happiness  possible in this life.

~ William H. Shannon

[Kyria; May, 2010]

“Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances” (I Thess 5:17)

Have you ever wondered what St. Paul was talking about? How can a person pray constantly? Yet this wasn’t the only time St. Paul urged his hearers to constant prayer.

“Rejoice in your hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer” ( Romans 12:12).

“Pray at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance” (Eph 6:18).

“Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving”  (Col 4:2).

If he took the trouble to say this to four different communities, he must have thought it was important. And he must have thought it was possible. He wouldn’t have kept urging his hearers to do something that was completely beyond their capability.

In the 2^nd through 5^th century, men and women began going out into the deserts of Palestine and Egypt to devote themselves wholly to prayer. They are known as the Desert Fathers and Mothers. They wanted to find a way to be in constant communion with God, as St. Paul had urged.

They soon discerned that the reason it’s hard to be in such communion is the ceaseless inner flow of wandering thoughts: old memories, desires, fears, criticism of others, any number of aimless thoughts that disrupt the mind and keep it unsettled. These are not the constructive thoughts used in problem-solving, but the wandering thoughts of a mind seeking something to “chew on.” Since the impediment came in the form of thoughts, the cure was a substitute thought—a single, simple thought of prayer. After experimenting with various short scriptures and petitions, this is the form that emerged: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.” It called the Jesus Prayer.

The prayer is drawn from Gospels, from passages where people called on Jesus for mercy: the ten lepers  who cried, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us” (Luke 17:13), the Canaanite woman who said , “have mercy on me, O Lord, son of David.” (Mt15:22), and blind Bartimaeus, who said,  “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (Mk 10:47). In Jesus’ parable, the publican “would not even lift his eyes to heaven but beat his breast, saying, ‘God be merciful to me a sinner!’” (Luke 18:13). These requests for mercy aren’t like a criminal begging a judge for lenience, but are stories of people in need asking for the Lord’s tender mercy.

I’ve been saying the Jesus Prayer for fifteen years now, and have found that it has greatly increased my ability to sense the presence and voice of the Lord. Mostly, it gets rid of the clutter. Instead of being blindsided by thoughts that carry me away into the past or future, I am able to size up the thought and decide whether or not I want to give it my time. The Jesus Prayer strengthens the part of your mind that observes your mind, building an entryway, as it were, where thoughts must prove their validity before being invited in. At all times, the inner you rests in the presence of our Lord, the light that drives away all darkness.

As we said, the goal is to pray constantly, but you can’t begin by doing anything all of the time; you have to begin by doing it some of the time, and gradually build up. The advice about acquiring the habit of this Prayer hasn’t changed for 1500 years. Set aside a bit of time each day when you will do nothing but say the Prayer—even just ten minutes a day. Sit quietly, close your eyes, and begin repeating the prayer inside. The ancient sources speak of “bringing the mind into the heart,” but you must keep in mind that “mind” and “heart” don’t mean “reason” and “emotion” in the ancient texts. (As best I can tell, the notion that we are divided into “head” and “heart” arose in the West in the Middle Ages. It’s not biblical and, I’ve become convinced, not true.) In the ancient writings about the Jesus Prayer, the “mind” is the receptive intelligence, the understanding or comprehension. It is always hungry for something to take in, and restless. During prayer practice, discipline that hungry mind to keep returning to gaze at the Lord. Deny it anything other than the words of the Prayer to think about. As St. Paul said, “Take every thought captive to obey Christ”  (2 Cor 10:5). You will find this impossible at first, but very gradually you will make headway. Those who stick with it report that, over time, there is a nearly physical sensation of the prayer activity move from buzzing around the top of your head, to being lodged securely at your physical center, the chest or heart. (This has nothing to do with emotions; the Prayer is a mental exercise, but it does, of course, produce better control over negative emotions.)

I wondered at first how it was possible to be praying all the time when I had so many other things to think about and accomplish. I found that it works by utilizing a layer of your awareness, not your entire awareness. It is like having a friend along as you go through your day. The presence of your silent friend wouldn’t limit your ability to concentrate and handle the demands of daily life, but it would give them a different color or flavor. In this case, the best of Friends provides tranquility, perspective, love for the unlovely, patience, and good humor.

But the purpose of the Jesus Prayer is not tranquility or inner healing; the purpose is to bring you into the presence of Christ. He is all our joy. I think it is wise that the Prayer asks for mercy, to remind us of the necessity of humility, rather than the narcissism that can accompany the self-designation “spiritual.” So the Jesus Prayer is not an end in itself, but a way of training the mind to remain always in his presence, no matter what else life brings. As the anonymous pilgrim says, in the 19^th century Russian text The Way of a Pilgrim, “Sometimes my heart would feel as if it were bursting with joy, so light was it and full of freedom and consolation. Sometimes I would feel a burning love towards Jesus Christ and all of God’s creatures…Sometimes, by invoking the name of Jesus, I was overcome with happiness, and from then on I knew the meaning of these words, ‘The Kingdom of God is within you.’”

~ Frederica Mathewes-Green

Albert Einstein sailing his boat on Saranac Lake. (courtesy of The Fantova Collection, Princeton University)

Albert Einstein’s famous equation, E=mc², remains difficult for me to grasp fully. But I feel I have come to understand something of the man — his expansive spirit, his relentless curiosity, and his reverence for the beauty and order of nature and thought. I was daunted as I began, but delving into Einstein was a delight.

And there is a logic of sorts to that, as humor was an aspect of Einstein’s genius. Freeman Dyson suggests that his ability to make light and to laugh, even at himself, was one key to the magnitude of his scientific accomplishment. Science is often about failure. Einstein himself proposed that he made so many discoveries because he was not afraid to be proven wrong, repeatedly, on his way to all of them. But Einstein also employed humor to philosophical and ethical effect, weighing in trenchantly on mankind’s foibles.

Einstein held a deep and nuanced, if not a traditional, faith. I did not assume this at the outset. I’ve always been suspicious of the way Einstein’s famous line, “God does not play dice with the universe,” gets quoted for vastly different purposes. I wanted to understand what Einstein meant as a physicist when he said that. As it turns out, that particular quip had more to do with physics than with God, as Freeman Dyson and Paul Davies illuminate.

Einstein did, however, leave behind a rich body of reflection on the “mind” and the “superior spirit” behind the cosmos that has never made its way into popular consciousness. He didn’t believe in a personal God who would interfere with the laws of physics. But he was fascinated with the ingenuity of those laws and expressed awe at the very fact of their existence. Throughout his life, he thrilled to all he could not yet understand. He was more than content with what he called a “cosmic religious sense” — animated by “inklings” and “wondering,” rather than by answers and conclusions. Here is a passage that comes close, I think, to a concise description by Einstein of his quintessential “faith”:

“A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty — it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man. I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the type of which we are conscious in ourselves … Enough for me the mystery of the eternity of life, and the inkling of the marvelous structure of reality, together with the single-hearted endeavor to comprehend a portion, be it ever so tiny, of the reason that manifests itself in nature.”

With Paul Davies, I was able to pursue how Einstein changed our view of space and especially time, a subject that has always intrigued me. Before Einstein, as Davies describes it, human beings thought of space and time as fixed and immutable, the backdrop to the great show of life. But we now know they are elastic and intertwined, part of the show themselves. Einstein described our perception of time as an arrow — traversing linear and compartmentalized past, present, and future — as a “stubbornly persistent illusion.” Such language is evocative from a religious standpoint. As Davies discusses, it echoes insights that run throughout Eastern and Western religions and ancient indigenous cultures. Davies finds an affinity between Einstein’s view of time and the religious notion of a reality “beyond time,” and of “the eternal.” And because he speaks as a person conversant in current advancements of Einstein’s science — cosmology and the Big Bang, black holes, even the search for life beyond this galaxy — his insights carry for me a special weight of authority and, yes, wonder.

I came across many wise and touching pieces of writing by the spiritual Einstein while preparing for these conversations. Einstein was a passionate letter writer. He wrote to fellow scientists, friends, and strangers. He loved responding to the letters of schoolchildren. One of his correspondents for a time was Queen Elisabeth of Belgium. He had struck up a warm friendship with her and her husband, King Albert, just before World War II. In one tragic season in the midst of already tumultuous political times, her husband died suddenly, as did her daughter-in-law. Einstein wrote to her:

“Mrs. Barjansky wrote to me how gravely living in itself causes you suffering and how numbed you are by the indescribably painful blows that have befallen you. And yet we should not grieve for those who have gone from us in the primes of their lives after happy and fruitful years of activity, and who have been privileged to accomplish in full measure their task in life.

Something there is that can refresh and revivify older people: joy in the activities of the younger generation — a joy, to be sure, that is clouded by dark forebodings in these unsettled times. And yet, as always, the springtime sun brings forth new life, and we may rejoice because of this new life and contribute to its unfolding; and Mozart remains as beautiful and tender as he always was and always will be. There is, after all, something eternal that lies beyond the hand of fate and of all human delusions. And such eternals lie closer to an older person than to a younger one oscillating between fear and hope. For us, there remains the privilege of experiencing beauty and truth in their purest forms.”

I emerged from these discussions with a new sense of Albert Einstein — not just as a great mind, but as a wise man. He was fully human and flawed, certainly in his intimate relationships. But he was undeniably an original, and not just as a scientist. If past, present, and future are an illusion, as he said, none of us ever really disappear. We all leave our imprint on what is now. I have a profound sense of Einstein’s imprint, and it comforts me. I suspect that if he heard he was the subject of a program called Speaking of Faith more than 50 years after his death, he would make a funny, kindly, self-deprecating joke. But if he could listen with twenty-first-century ears, he might be intrigued by how his generous, questioning, “cosmic” religious sense is deeply kindred with the religious and spiritual yearnings of our age.

~ Krista Tippett

Photo: Peter Grima/Flickr

At an early age, I learned that God was a being who dwelled in a place far from where I ever stood. I learned to commune with the transcendent God of the above, not the immanent divine within. But over the years, as I let go of childish thinking and took responsibility for my spiritual life, my perception of God changed dramatically. I am guided now not so much by teachings that were handed down to me, but by ideas that have risen up from within — a shift that began 30 years ago when I was a young postulant nun in a religious order taking my first theology class.

The priest looked dismayed. “That’s it?” he asked.

“Yes, Father.”

“Sit down,” he barked, looking around for the next hand.

Up it went, and the next brave soul stood up saying, “In God there are three divine persons, really distinct, and equal in all things — the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

I nodded again, and the priest frowned. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Yes, Father.”

Next,” he yelled, as she took her seat, looking around in wonder.

By now, we’re all confused, but one more raised her hand.

“God can do all things, and nothing is hard or impossible to Him.”

“Sit down,” he said.

He rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and surveyed the whole group of us with a kind of silent disdain. By now, I’m feeling anxious and blood is rushing up my neck. I feel hot and sweaty. My first anxiety attack.

“How could he do this?” It seemed so mean. He asked for our ideas about God and yet, when we said them, it felt like he took a sledge hammer and smashed our beliefs into a thousand pieces. A tear rolled down my cheek.

It was a moment of devastating loss, incomprehensible sadness. I felt as if everything I believed in, everything on which I had based my life, was now being challenged. We sat there, 30 of us, for what seemed an eternity, reckoning with the obliteration of God as we had known Him. What if everything we believed wasn’t true? Did Father Grabys know something we didn’t know?

Finally the priest spoke. “You should be ashamed for having nothing more than catechism answers to this question. Are you just a bunch of parrots, repeating everything you’ve been taught? Hasn’t anyone here gone beyond the Baltimore Catechism in your thinking?”

The air was thick with silence. Hands were folded, eyes cast down. Tears cascaded down my face. I prayed he wouldn’t call on me.

“You must come to know what is true about God from your own experience,” said the priest. “If you are to be a nun worth your salt, you have to arrive at a faith that is deeper than your learning, one that is rooted in your ultimate concerns and rises up from the nature of who you are.”

I looked up at him, wondering how in the world to build a faith from my human nature. Wasn’t faith something I was born into — something I inherited from the outside?

I was a Catholic by default. They told me everything I was supposed to believe. That was the point, wasn’t it? I was just lucky to be born into the one true faith. I certainly didn’t have anything to say about it. That’s what infallible popes were for.

I raised my hand and asked him how someone could create a faith from the inside out, and why we even needed to since we knew what we needed to know from the catechism.

“What you believe, that is religion,” he said. “Who you are, what you live for — that is faith. And that is what we are here to explore, to create, and to declare — our faith and spirituality. You can let go of your beliefs for awhile as you learn how to create a faith that will see you through everything.”

I didn’t want to let go of any beliefs. They were all I had. And they were enough. I didn’t need anything more, or so I thought. As we continued on in the class, the biblical paradox that says we must lose our lives in order to find them suddenly began to make sense. Taking responsibility for our own spirituality was a painstaking process that lasted the entire semester as we worked to find and define our own commitments and ultimate concerns — a task that was supremely challenging for young women who had been taught all their lives what to think, but not how to think.

We never looked at another catechism, never recited another memorized belief, but step by step we built a new spirituality for ourselves that was deeply personal and rooted in our ultimate concerns. And every day during meditation there was something new and profoundly elegant to contemplate: myself as the creator of my own spiritual path.

~ Jan Phillips

“For which of these are you trying to stone me?”

~ John 10: 3

Do you ever feel like you have to live with other people’s expectations? I do and it can really be stressful.  I remember after coming from mass the woman beside me whispered to me,

“You know these people are wrong (pointing to those praying in the Blessed Sacrament) I saw some of them. They don’t know how to make the sign of the cross…” and then she gives me this whole lecture as to how it should be done with matching actions.  I kept quiet the whole time she was talking. Just nodding my head, to be polite. But in my mind, I felt that she was wrong, and not those people she was referring to. Why judge? God sees the heart…

Jesus experienced the same judgmental attitude. He was performing good works – healing the sick, casting out demons, teaching people to forgive, etc. But people were not grateful for what He did. Instead, they stoned Him for these good deeds. Because they said, he was making himself God, and yet He was just man.

It’s easy to see the mistakes of others. But how hard to see that we are human enough to commit mistakes as well.

When we are not ruled by our expectations of others, we become more accepting of other’s weaknesses. And perhaps, life will be better because we live our lives out of the box.

~ Jojang

Photo: Freddy Adams/Flickr

Contemplation is the highest expression of man’s intellectual and spiritual life. It is that life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is spiritual wonder. It is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being. It is gratitude for life, for awareness and for being. It is a vivid realization of the fact that life and being in us proceed from an invisible, transcendent and infinitely abundant Source. Contemplation is, above all, awareness of the reality of that Source.

- Thomas Merton

Jojang & Matt

Dear Family and Friends,

It was a stormy day. In fact, the fog was out almost the whole day. People were advised to stay home.   We both chose to follow.

Matt tinkered on his computer, while I busied myself pottering around the house. Matt donned a long sleeve shirt and jogging pants. I, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt. I put the fan “on” yet in spite of the storm and efforts to cool myself, it still felt hot! If you are thinking what I’m thinking… yup, you’re right. Hot flushes! I turned fifty last March.

When I was a little girl, I thought that people who were fifty years old were ancient. Now that I have reached this age, I realize we’re not. In fact, we can be hip. And life can still be exciting.

Anyway, this is our usual year-end Christmas letter. Like, I said earlier, this year I turned fifty! As I look back on my fifty years in existence, I cannot help but see that the Lord has really been good to us. Amidst the trials and vicissitudes of life, He has always been with us. Guiding and loving us, every step of the way.

Matthew, on the other hand, struggled with his health especially during the first three quarters of the year. Having been hospitalized three times this year. Last July, Matthew and I stayed for three weeks in Manila. He remembered his grandparents that used to bring him to Manila (or Pampanga) whenever he would have very bad asthma attacks. And true enough, his health significantly improved. We were sure that warm weather helped (the Doctor said that oxygen is thin at high altitudes and thick at low altitudes).  But the very clean environment was surely a major factor too. We stayed at my friend’s place – thanks to Dave and Wawi Dellosa and family for the hospitality, generosity, warmth and loving kindness – where Matthew’s health improved by leaps and bounds. There, he was able to take strolls and even go to Mega mall. Something he has not done in years.

As the year ends, we look forward to the year ahead with hope in our hearts. We place our life in God’s hand. He has always been taking care and providing for our needs. And we believe that He will always continue to do so.

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Grace Filled New Year ahead!

- Jojang

Photo: Forti Suarez

I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage;

yea, wait for the Lord!

- Psalm 27: 13-14 (RSV)

I think of faith as a kind of whistling in the dark  because, in much the same way, it helps to give us courage and to hold the shadows at bay.

- Frederick Buechner

A man was sleeping at night in his cabin when suddenly his room filled with light and the Savior appeared. The Lord told the man he had work for him to do, and showed him a large rock in front of his cabin. The Lord explained that the man was to push against the rock with all his might.

This the man did, day after day. For many years he toiled from sun up to sun down, his shoulders set squarely against the cold, massive surface of the unmoving rock, pushing with all his might. Each night the man returned to his cabin sore, and worn out, feeling that his whole day had been spent in vain.

Seeing that the man was showing signs of discouragement, the Adversary decided to enter the picture by placing thoughts into the man’s weary mind: “You have been pushing against that rock for a long time, and it hasn’t budged. Why kill yourself over this? You are never going to move it.”

This gave the man the impression that the task was impossible and that he was a failure. These thoughts discouraged and disheartened the man. “Why kill myself over this?” he thought. “I’ll just put in my time, giving just the minimum effort and that will be good enough.”

And that is what he planned to do until one day he decided to make it a matter of prayer and take his troubled thoughts to the Lord. “Lord” he said, “I have labored long and hard in your service, putting all my strength to do that which you have asked. Yet, after all this time, I have not even budged that rock by half a millimeter. What is wrong? Why am I failing?”

The Lord responded compassionately, “My friend, when I asked you to serve me and you accepted, I told you that your task was to push against the rock with all your strength, which you have done. Never once did I mention to you that I expected you to move it. Your task was to push. And now you come to me, with your strength spent, thinking that you have failed.

But, is that really so? Look at yourself. Your arms are strong and muscled, your back sinewy and brown, your hands are callused from constant pressure, and your legs have become massive and hard. Through opposition you have grown much and your abilities now surpass that which you used to have. Yet you haven’t moved the rock. But your calling was to be obedient and to push and to exercise your faith and trust in My wisdom. This you have done. I, my friend, will now move the rock.”

At times, when we hear a word from God, we tend to use our own intellect to decipher what He wants, when actually what God wants is just simple obedience and faith in Him….By all means, exercise the faith that moves mountains, but know that it is still God who moves the mountains. Just P.U.S.H! (Pray until something happens).

- Patrick Kelly