SPACES


    Every relationship entails an ability to create a space for the other in one’s heart. The ability to do so highlights a maturing but questioning discernment, which reminds us of the need not to presume truth and, worse, love. The intended spaces can either strengthen or weaken our discernment: to bridge with others or barricade ourselves from them. Dialogue distinguishes between the two.  

    A principle highlights Christian discernment: “He must increase; I must decrease” (John 3, 30), which clarifies my intentions as I speak of the Magister. Surpassing an intellectual assertion or a fleeting emotion, the Johanine affirmation recalls an intimacy defined by love because “whatever is honestly done out of love and in accordance with love can never be blameworthy” (Abbot Isaac de l’Étoile).

    Love challenges us to renew our understanding of life: its credibility. Our spaces are accosted by a decision to let the Magister illumine my path because he is my way, my truth, and my life (John 14,6). His light ensures that I don’t walk in darkness (John 8,12) so that my spaces are now addressed by my being Minorem as I affirm the Magister as my Majorem.

    Failure to integrate this insight entraps us in an unbroken viciousness of our own making, where truth reflects our untruthfulness. Hence, “Do not accept anything as love, which lacks truth” (Edith Stein). Truthless love transforms us into a monster reminiscent of Kafka’s metamorphosis (Franz Kafka, Die Verwandlung) because we cannot distinguish the Magister from our conjectures. Our only hope is to trust in his faithfulness:  to sincerely recognise our failures when we speak of discernment: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1John 1,9). 

    Understanding our fragility bridges the spaces that separate us from others, permitting us to understand rather than to judge others. Love is not abstract: truthfulness underlines its credibility. Recognising ourselves sustains its truthfulness as the ‘me’ transforms into ‘us’ – a fellowship, which allows us to stand beneath the cross as we proclaim His Resurrection. The cross defines our spaces, inviting us to contemplate its significance by stepping silently in its shadow to stand silently beside Mary (John 19,25-30). 

    The significance of Mary’s silence can be misinterpreted as weakness: a mother helplessly distraught and crippled by grief. This portrayal lures our sympathy because it evokes shared emotions, but does it do justice to Mary? 

    Mary standing under the cross enlightens our spaces by inviting us to contemplate all that is antithetical to the crucifixion: forgiveness, self-emptying, committed love, conversion, gentleness, wholeness (Shalom), light and life. Instead of transmitting its injustice, anger, hopelessness, cruelty and death, Mary’s standing under the cross invites us not only to transform them but to integrate these values into our spaces as a bridgehead to witness the Resurrection. We do not do this alone; the faith community provides us with the natural milieu. Lacking this comprehension, the ‘oil’ quickly runs out, and darkness seals our fate (Matthew 25,1-13). 

    Our spaces, indicative of a maturing self-understanding focused on Divine compassion, are not idiosyncratic: an excuse to foster exclusiveness focused on emotional needs or prejudices, which transform us into a frigid cage lacking love’s warmth. 

    Our spaces are indicative of pathways to healing where heart and mind connect with other hearts and minds in witnessing the Magister through our fellowship. This insight entails an understanding of who we are in God’s eyes and the realisation that we are His bridge!

 

Martin



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