TAKING OFF THE LID

   The insistence 'to babbling like pagans' (Matthew 6,7) tempts us: it is freely embraced when God’s graciousness no longer suffices, and the cross is downplayed. Following St. Bernard, the disciple desires the Magister rather than his gifts, but this entails the cross as a key to understanding one’s integrity. 

    The cross is God’s therapy that enables us to encounter our fears and frustrations by recalling us to its silence and how this contributes to the formation of our conscience (CCC 1783-1785). This silence sustains a dialogue of love: ignoring its need reflects an unconscious or perhaps not, attempt to hide our hearts from God: unless God searches our heart, we are frustrated because, as Jeremiah warns, 'You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart' (29,13). While our hearts are restlessly caught up in a whirlwind of frustrating desires, this endeavour is unrealistic. 

    Prayer is expressive of our willingness to expose our hearts to God: not to compile deceptions or pretences, but to discern what underlies our relationship with God, projected as a dialogue of love. This entails journeying into the wilderness and learn to undress ourselves in the footsteps of our Magister: ‘Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil’ (Matthew 4,1-11) and allow the angels to minister our wounds. 

    Despite the beautiful words, persistence in one’s inconsistent ways is not uncommon as we imitate the ‘saqiyah’: a waterwheel powered by a donkey condemned to roaming in circles, its eyes covered, fantasising about arriving! Illusions disappoint, especially when they are confused with genuineness. It is, therefore, necessary to understand things objectively because subjectivity is a great fabricator of illusions. 

    The best way to prevent illusions is to live what delineates discipleship: in other words, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3,3). This is a fundamental insight, summarising a learning experience that permits God’s flame to enkindle our hearts with His wisdom: 'As I mused, the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue: ‘O LORD, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am' (Psalm 39,3)! This expressed longing recaps Touchstone’s consideration: 'A fool doth think himself wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool' (William Shakespeare, As You Like It, V.1).

    Enkindled, the heart’s wakefulness is sharpened. As it does so, a need arises to make room for the Magister’s presence in my heart. However, it proves wise to understand the significance that underlies this need: it is associated with childlikeness and pureness of heart and surpassed muddiness now renewed by the Spirit of truth experienced in ‘Metanoia’ (conversion) that finds its expression in ‘self-emptying’ (Kenosis), expressive of ‘committed love’ (Agape).

    Nothing should be taken for granted because an invasive complacency readily reduces our ability to enjoy the fruits of the Spirit: 'committed love, joy, peace, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control' (Galatians 3,22-23). These qualities are acquired slowly through our choices and a willingness to deepen and refresh insights into what it means to be human. The hitches and struggles encountered help us to better understand others without the need to judge them: an insight enriched by an intimate dialogue experienced in prayer.

    Our fragility serves as a springboard to witness the Magister’s reassuring presence and reach other hearts seeking His restfulness: a shared experience that recalls the Magister’s invitation, 'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest' (Matthew 11,28). 

Martin


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