On silence
Posted on February 21st, 2017
I went to a Taizé service on Sunday, and these words were read. They echoed very deeply what I’ve been thinking and feeling about prayer for some time, as you’ll see from my last blog post.
“When we try to express communion with God in words, we rapidly reach the end of our capacities. But in the depths of our being Christ is praying, far more than we imagine. Compared to the immensity of that hidden prayer of Christ in us, our explicit praying dwindles to almost nothing. That is why silence is so essential in discovering the heart of prayer.
Although God never stops trying to communicate with us, God never wants to impose anything on us. Often God’s voice comes as a whisper, in a breath of silence. Remaining in silence in God’s presence, open to the Spirit, is already prayer.”
– Brother Roger of Taizé
Some thoughts on prayer
Posted on February 9th, 2017
Since Christmas a church group I’m part of has been thinking about ‘the prayer of our lives’, which is a theme for the whole of 2017, and we’ve had some discussions about a range of topics linked to prayer. I’ve found these discussions interesting on many levels, as is often the way when people share their experiences of faith. To me, every word and feeling inside me is a prayer, whether I’m aware of them or not. I’ve been in situations where I’ve had a thought, or articulated some thoughts in my head, and then felt the desire to pray those thoughts but felt really silly. In those moments, to direct those thoughts and prayers to God would be like making a ca
ke in front of someone and then explaining what I’ve just been doing, which wouldn’t just be pointless but it would also be patronising to the observer! For me, to think of a prayer to then say aloud or silently to God is like saying the same thing twice, because God knows every prayer in our hearts.
On any given day we need different interactions and stimuli in every dimension of our lives, and I think prayer is the same. For some people, praying for the same things together is important, whereas for others a prayer can made by painting or sculpting. One of the saddest things I’ve found amongst religious people is the way some people find it hard to understand the prayers of others. For example, in the Orthodox tradition, icons are used for prayer. “The most literal translation of the word Greek: εικονογραφία (eikonographia) is “image writing,” leading many English-speaking Orthodox Christians to insist that icons are not “painted” but rather “written.” From there, further explanations are given that icons are to be understood in a manner similar to Holy Scripture—that is, they are not simply artistic compositions but rather are witnesses to the truth the way Scripture is. Far from being imaginative creations of the iconographer, they are more like scribal copies of the Bible.” However, there is a debate over whether icons break the 2nd Commandment given by God to Moses, and there is confusion amongst the use of icons in worship and the implications for belief in one God.
It may be naïve, but I have always had the view that if something helps someone feel close to God then it is not for me to judge them. What someone does is between them and God, and it’s not my business to decide how good or bad it is. I suppose that’s why I like studying other religions, because I love seeing the devotion people show for God. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable to see someone worship their God using their language or actions, but it rather makes me more determined to understand my own relationship with God.
Prayer is a tricky thing to understand, and I think that it is more often than not a tool for humans to use to feel closer to God than for any other purpose. Prayers are often a chance for us to develop ourselves, our characters and our futures. If someone chose to pray for an elderly and unwell neighbour rather than for their own happiness, that prayer has provided them the chance to become more selfless; if someone prays for their own happiness it can be a ste
p towards developing love and care for themselves, an often neglected and stigmatised concern. To pray at all gives us the opportunity to show God that we are open to receiving whatever peace, happiness or love God is willing to impart. And for me, prayer is often the opportunity to realise that nothing I can say to God is really worth saying. There have been times I’ve sat quietly to pray or gone to a chapel to spend time in prayer and found myself at a total loss of what to do or say. I often find this a difficult thing to know how to cope with, but then I remember Jesus’s words: “And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Matthew 6:7-8)
I suppose that is why I sing, and why I feel closer to God when I sing than at any other time, because all I have to do is open my heart to receive whatever love and peace God will bless me with. And as St. Augustine said, “To sing is to pray twice.”
I’d like to share a chant with you. It’s by a Jewish group called Temple and is the words Moses prayed to God when his sister was very ill: “אל נא רפא נא לה, el na, refa na la — please, God, heal her.” There is something I love about listening to Jewish music, knowing that it is the tradition Jesus lived in, and this prayer is so simple and beautiful. But the true beauty here for me is the repetition that chanting includes. It’s why I love Taizé chants so much; you don’t have to think of a prayer, you can turn your thoughts off and just open yourself up to singing your prayer to God.
Leave a commentTo become a better person. Again.
Posted on October 31st, 2012
After a conversation yesterday and watching ‘Bloody Sunday’ this evening, I’ve been prompted to meditate on this thought again. For those who haven’t seen ‘Bloody Sunday’, it’s about the events around the deaths of 13 people in Derry, Northern Ireland in 1972. The discomfort I felt whilst watching it (and not for the first time) made me want to make a difference, to help the world become a safer, happier place. But yesterday I had a conversation with a friend who has just returned from visiting Auschwitz, who said that when people were stating that visiting the death camp made them want to be ‘be a better person’ he responded with scepticism (to put it mildly). I could really relate to both sides of that – when I visited Auschwitz two years ago I wasn’t upset as I was expecting to be, but rather determined that I didn’t want it to happen again. I left feeling positive, that I could make a change and help the world heal and become more peaceful. And in response to my friend’s doubts about the longevity of such a desire, I’m sad to say that I think I have failed.
As some of you will remember, I am an RE teacher as well as a singer. People are invariably shocked when they find out that my faith is such a deep part of me as it is because I am (in their words) ‘normal’. I’m not entirely sure how to feel about that, but it must mean that people feel they can be honest with me and talk about things which they perhaps wouldn’t discuss in front of a ‘typical’ Christian. I’m cringing as I write this!!! But my experience is that people will come and confide in me things which they then feel embarrassed about when they learn of my faith – and this is the best way I can describe what I mean.
I often think that I want people to know that I am a Christian by the way that I act, not by the things that I say. Slowly I think I’m getting better at portraying myself in the way that I would like to, and I am happy enough to ask God for help with this and depend on Him. And I think that in many ways I do help – the education I help to provide, the support I give and the guidance I can offer as a teacher as well as the peace and serenity that I try to create with the music that I sing as all ways I can measure my progress in this. But it all seems so futile, sometimes.
This evening the wind was blowing so hard and the rain was falling so heavily that I was genuinely concerned about the future of this world that we live in. If we in the south-west of England are feeling the effects of Hurricane Sandy’s fury then I can scarcely imagine the fear being experienced by those who are being touched directly. We take so much for granted, and I am especially guilty of clinging onto security in whatever form it appears. A part of me loves the idea of physical security being taken away from us so that we can become closer and closer to the pure love of God, but the larger part of me remains terrified.
I know I’ve said it before, but what if suffering exists only to give us the desire and opportunity to do good things? Is it enough to continue with life as it is, offering each other the little kindnesses that make us smile on a daily basis and comfort us when we need to be comforted? Or should we leave our lives and follow Jesus as he called his disciples to do? If we were to all do that, I’m not sure how long we’d last because to do so is to rely on those who have not left everything behind to follow God. So surely God means each of us to serve in our own way?
This makes a lot of sense to me, but then the question remains: how do you become the best person you can be in your current position? ‘Love thy neighbour’ is the simplest commandment to understand but perhaps the hardest to follow.
And the answer to these thoughts which keeps coming back to my mind is so simple:
Stay with me, remain here with me, watch and pray.
Leave a commentThe Relationship between Trust and Forgiveness
Posted on August 17th, 2012
In discussing trust at Taizé, we found it very difficult not to digress and begin discussing forgiveness. A lot of the conversation centred around people trusting someone until that trust was betrayed, and then they would not trust them any more. One member of my discussion group was very emphatic about her belief that trust must be earned and when it is broken, it is our right to withhold trust in the future. We inevitably ended up talking about forgiveness as this seemed key to allowing trust to be created again.
There’s a section of the well known poem Desiderata which has fascinated me for a long time. I’ve put the whole poem below for those of you unfamiliar with it, but the line which particularly intrigues me is ‘as far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all people’. Take a moment to read the poem.
This idea of surrender is a really interesting one. I was once hurt by someone so deeply that I thought I would be angry forever. It took me several years to come to terms with my feelings and reaction, and I realised that I really hated this person. This didn’t sit particularly well with me – I don’t like the idea that I hate someone and it made me unhappy to know that despite my beliefs I was unable to work on this particular issue.
One of the reasons I found it so difficult to forgive this person was because I felt that if I forgave them it would condone their actions, it would mean that my pain was unjustified; but having realised that this was a problem I suddenly let it go. The person in question had very much moved on, so who was my hate hurting? Me, and God.
So I came back to this line again: ‘as far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all people’. I think there’s a really key point here, which came back to me during the discussion with my group in Taizé about forgiveness. One of the girls was adamant that forgiveness had to be earned and it could be withheld at each person’s discretion. When I quoted Matthew 21-22 (Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”) she reacted very strongly and said that this wasn’t practical. In many ways I agree with her, but perhaps our understanding of forgiveness needs to be expanded.
A question I find very important is about prisoners. If someone has been to prison to pay for a crime, shouldn’t we treat them the way we treat those who have never been to prison when they are released? Surely the point of prison is to repay society for the crime they have committed. If I go overdrawn on my bank account and am charged interest, that interest doesn’t carry on being charged once I’m back in credit! But human beings are so much more complicated. We find it so hard to forgive and so hard to trust, and the more I think about it, these two so often go hand in hand with each other.
To be a Christian is a hard job. We’re asked to love everyone (Matthew 22:36-40) and forgive everyone (Luke 6:37). We’re asked to let go of worldly possessions (Matthew 6:19-20) although the world around us is obsessed with ownership. We’re asked to trust God even though we can’t see God (Proverbs 3:5). My students often tell me that they think it’s impossible to love unconditionally, as Jesus taught. A part of me believes that they’re right, but that doesn’t mean that I give up trying. I watched some of the rowing during the Olympics and felt so impressed by the athletes who were clearly going to finish last but who carried on going anyway. Surely God sees us the same way – we may not manage to live up to the ideals set out in the teachings of Jesus, but we try our best and God is there rooting for us just as I was rooting for the rowers at the end of the race!
I know how hard it is to forgive, and I’m certainly not judging anyone for saying that they don’t want to forgive someone who’s hurt them. Everyone is different, and forgiveness can seem impossible. But without forgiveness, can there ever be trust? And without trust, can there ever be peace?
Bóg jest miłością, miejcie odwagę, żyć dla miłości; Bóg jest miłością, nie lękajcie się – God is forgiveness, dare to forgive and God will be with you; God is forgiveness, love and do not fear.
1 CommentTrust – Theme at Taizé 2012
Posted on August 16th, 2012
Brother Alois, the prior of Taizé, wrote his letter for 2012 under the title, ‘Towards a New Solidarity’ (http://www.taize.fr/IMG/pdf/120enletter.pdf) and the theme for the Bible study and discussion groups was trust. While the 17-24 year old groups spent a lot of the week playing trust games, the 25-35 year old groups cracked on with some fairly hefty conversations!
When I arrived in Taizé on the Sunday it was after a long journey. I’d been travelling for 19 hours and hadn’t slept, so I wasn’t in the best frame of mind for the inevitable queueing that constitutes the arrival at any place like Taizé! So, in tiredness I looked around at the big groups of happy, laughing people and felt very out of the loop. I suppose I felt quite insecure and out of place, as did many people. In fact, Brother Paolo, the British contact brother, welcomed us on the coach with ‘don’t worry about Sunday, it’s chaotic – tomorrow will feel better!’ and several other people said that they just wanted to get back on the bus and go home the same evening we arrived! Not ideal.
So when we had our first Bible introduction with Brother Matthew on the Monday morning, I had to laugh at the theme of the week – trust! I found myself thinking that the beginning of the week had demanded that I trust the community, trust the welcome teams, trust myself (especially with my tent erecting skills!) and trust God that all would be well. And it was so worth it!!!
My discussion group was a really diverse group of people, made up of one Polish, one Swedish, one Dutch, one other English, three German and one Spanish. As you can imagine we were all coming from different backgrounds and our discussions reflected this. I’ll write some reflections on these discussions over the next few blogs, but I thought I would start with an overview before getting started.
For now, have one of the chants we sang every day over the week. Truly beautiful! It means: ‘All life long, for the Lord I will sing; while I live, I will praise my God. My joy is in God.’
Leave a commentMy week in Taizé!
Posted on August 15th, 2012
It’s been a long time since I wrote a blog, sorry everyone! I’ve been doing so many different things it’s been hard to find the right frame of mind for writing.
I’ve just got back from a week at Taizé, which was amazing. It’s the first time I’ve been to Taizé since 2004, so it was quite a significant experience. As those of you who know my music will remember, the chants sung at Taizé are my inspiration and my experience of Taizé when I was 17 was the beginning of my path with God.
On the Friday evening the community has a prayer around the cross. When the evening prayer is finished, the monks place the icon of the cross on the floor and then move aside. The congregation queues up and then take their place around the cross, putting their forehand or hands on the icon of Jesus crucified.
During the week this was the first time I felt really moved beyond a general happiness to be there and interest in the discussions we were having. It was the first time I felt a presence of God, and I spent quite a while writing. I will write up what I wrote on that evening as an introduction to some Taizé-inspired blogs.
The church is filled with the chant ‘Jesus Remember Me’. 5,000 voices calling out to God. 5,000 people whose hearts are crying out to be welcomed into the arms of the Father. And Jesus hears every single voice and knows every one of their names. Human and deity are united by a mutual longing for each other. ‘Man is never more fully man than when he gives himself totally to God; and God is never more fully God than when he gives himself totally to man.’ We try to meet God in a way we can understand – we place ourselves at the foot of his cross, but God’s work is so much more deep. As we welcome Him one again into our lives he once more opens our hearts to a love that is beyond description, even beyond comprehension.
All differences forgotten, all divisions ignored, we come to Him each as fragile and broken as each other. And as a loving mother and father, God welcomes us. For this short time, all voices are one, calling out to the love and grace of our Lord. And God comes to us, no matter what we have done and no matter what we’ve thought. He welcomes us and welcomes us, healing our bruised hearts with his outpouring of divine, never-ending, unconditional love.
God loves us. God loves us. God loves us.
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