Apple Pies and Sledgehammers

   JoAnne and I have been discussing the difference between contemplation and centering prayer. I know... I don't get it either.
   Centering prayer seems to be a sort of mental-shift from our ordinary way of operating, like, turning off all the appliances in the house in order to sit in a chair and listen to the sound of your own heartbeat. Being quiet on purpose because in that quiet one can hear God speak in a different way.
   People who do centering prayer tell me it's quite wonderful. But I suspect people like myself, who are accustomed to the noise, find it difficult.
   Contemplation, on the other hand, must be very different from prayer. While I hear people talk about "contemplative prayer" I'm thinking it is prayer only in the broadest terms. Contemplation is to prayer what forest is to trees. So maybe the reason we can't get excited about centering is that we don't want to concentrate on a single tree, and miss the forest.
   The reason I bring this all up is that we are going on a contemplative retreat in October. If it's all about centering prayer, we're in trouble.

   While I'm writing this, my cat insists on invading. I won't let her up on my lap while I write--she's too critical. She tries to drop in from the top of my monitor and gets diverted back to the floor. So she jumps onto the narrow ledge between the monitor and the keyboard, standing directly in my way. I send her on again. Not to be deterred, she is back for another try, laying in that same two inches of open space so that she isn't blocking my view. But she's also impossible to ignore.
   And I find myself wishing the Holy Spirit would be like that, getting in my way with such perfect insistence that I cannot ignore it. But I seem to be blind. Blind and numb and deaf and completely insensate. I know with my brain that God is with me and will never leave. And it's a wonderful understanding, with plenty of room to grow. But to have God in my lap, so to speak, and to give God time and attention--those are the purposes of prayer. God doesn't come merely for me to talk to. Someday there must be an experience of talking with. But there seems to be a wall between us. And it hurts.

   People talk to me about prayer and contemplation like the aroma of apple pies on the breeze. I need prayer like a hammer, a big sledge hammer that can break a hole in the wall, break the wall to bits so small it can never go up again. God help me, I want to smash that wall so that it can never come between us ever again, and not only that, when the wall comes down I intend to run--I will run through the widening gap, even as the bricks are coming down, and when I find God on the other side, I will tackle him.
   Someone told me once to form a goal before going on retreat, to make effective use of the time alone with God. Well, God, there it is. Let's knock down the wall. When I come through, please be there to catch me...


Note: I think I mentioned that JoAnne and I are supposed to be journaling, for our Franciscan journey. JoAnne, and others like her, tell me how hard it is for them to write. Not everyone loves to do it. Our Guides, thankfully, aren't making a big deal out of it, knowing that not everyone finds a path there. But as I write I begin to understand that one of the gifts of writing--one of the jobs writers do, perhaps--is that my words can stand and serve for others' need to express the deep things. I can, in a sense, speak for the world.
   It isn't so proud as it sounds. There is a line in the Gospel about "a voice crying in the desert, 'Prepare in the wilderness a straight path for the Lord'..." It's like going out every day and clearing brush so that people can walk more easily. In our hearts, we all want to break through to God. Some people pray, some people serve. I write. And since I've been trying so hard to reach God, and since God seems to encourage my efforts, I'm willing to try harder for JoAnne and you and for anyone else who finds the word-path difficult. I believe everyone should search for and find the path that is theirs. I'm willing to do this one.
   I've been trying to find more time for prayer. I want to do more of the Hours. I've thought about trying centering prayer. Just this morning I was walking back and forth between the chapel and the family room, saying "I have only enough time for one. Which will it be? Prayer or writing?"
   As you can see, writing won the morning. But did praying lose? My understanding of contemplation is "doing that thing in which Christ meets you." What better place than the center of your own heart where you are most real, where you are the person God made you to be?
   For the essence of all prayer is God. We pray because God prays first. We live because God lives first. And we seek, because God has sought us first, from the beginning, and will never stop. God seeks us for ever...

   I have to stop now. Uh... the cat wants me. But I will come again tomorrow. Have a safe and happy journey out there in the wilderness of life. If you come to any walls, knock. If necessary, use a big hammer.