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THE GIFT OF PRESENCE: THE
ELUSIVE CORE OF THE SPIRITUAL DIRECTION RELATIONSHIP
Part I
nce, at the beginning of a series
of lectures I was attending, the lecturer asked us to introduce
ourselves. "As each person introduces him or herself," he said, "I want
you to be present to that person." A simple request, which had a
profound effect on me. I began thinking of the whole notion of presence:
what it might mean. What constitutes presence to another? What does this
presence look like, feel like?
From this I was led to explore
"presence" as it operates on different levels. There is the mutual
presence of the two persons to each other in the relationship of
spiritual direction. Each comes into the relationship with a unique
history of experiences. They are present in different capacities, one as
director, the other as directee. Therefore what each gives to the
encounter, as well as what each receives from the encounter will be
different. I hope through this reflection to learn how their way of
being together can achieve the aim of their coming together, which is
the spiritual growth of the directee.
Because spiritual direction is
God-oriented, the director and directee strive to remain alert to this
dimension as it reveals itself in their interchange. Openness to this
mysterious presence, it seems to me, is the core of the whole process.
The encounter of God with the human being, the work of God's hands, is
pure gift. Because all experiences of presence in this life are fleeting
and intangible, in the sense that they cannot be grasped, I understand
this presence to be both elusive and precious.
The participants in a spiritual
direction relationship come together to be intentionally open to
mystery. They are together in a contemplative attitude. Therefore, I
believe that this relationship is an ideal locus for understanding the
notion of presence, while, at the same time, gaining an understanding of
the meaning and value of spiritual direction.
I would like to explore how this
notion of presence is connected with the reality of God's presence in
our lives. One of the best places for understanding this is in the
intimacy of a spiritual direction relationship. I begin by examining
this relationship as a way of being present to another. I see the
spiritual direction relationship as one that is open to intimacy, and
therefore a relationship of some depth. This intimacy is expressed in a
reverential attitude and a comfortableness with silence. The presence of
the directee is expressed most typically through the narration of
experience. That of the director is expressed most typically through
listening, through responding with empathy, and in this way enabling the
directee to clarify and enter more deeply into the meaning and challenge
of the experiences shared.
I then take up the understanding of
God as Presence. This present God waits to be gracious through God's
unconditional love or call to the two participants in the spiritual
direction relationship. The director and directee respond to the mystery
through a contemplative attitude within the relationship, and a life of
prayer and surrender to the one who calls. Through their contact with
mystery they are open to God's revelation, often experienced in a
challenge to change and growth.
Presence as a gift to be nurtured. This, I believe,
happens as we become more truly human and therefore more free. I intend
to look at what blocks this development. Here, too, I endeavour to look
at the movement of conversion, with reference to the first week of The
Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. I wish to show how this can lay the
foundation for a transparency on the part of the directee through the
healing and transforming grace of God.
Relationship As Presence
When one is open to God in
creation, one can feel the vibrancy of the Trinitarian presence in
ordinary, everyday things. The yearning to relate to this hidden
presence, to experience the eternal in the now, is a perennial Christian
desire. I hope to look at all these layers of relationship: relationship
expressed in the language of the body, yet communicating soul, and in
this communication reflecting a presence transcending both.
In the Book of Genesis we read that
at the dawn of creation "God's spirit hovered over the water" (Gen.
1:2), and God breathed the "breath of life" into humanity (Gen.2:7).
This "breath" of God, this spirit is profoundly relational. It connects
the human person with God in the depth of being. John Navone says: "The
experience of beauty is primordially spiritual. Beauty itself, the
origin and ground and perfection of all created beauty, is Spirit" (6).
Beauty, especially the beauty of
the natural world, has a way of luring us into the mystery from which we
spring. "God is the ecstasy of Love," says Olivier Clement, "overflowing
outside himself, enabling creatures to share in his life. Through his
life they share the same overflowing force, which we see already
displayed in eros, the love of man and woman, and which is designed to
be perfected in holiness, in conscious fellowship with him who is the
fullness of Beauty and Goodness" (22).
The human being needs to connect
with its source in God. This need to connect rises up from the hidden
depths of humanity in the form of desire. Speaking of this, Clement
says: "Desire is in the first place God's desire for us, to which all
human (or to be exact divine-human) eros is seeking to respond" (22).
God's desire is expressed in the depth of God's life, in the dynamic
relationship within the Trinity. It overflows in a creative energy that
images itself in the human. It reveals itself in that passionate desire
and love which is constitutive of all presence. Clement explains this:
A solitary God would not be "Love
without limits. [. . .] The three-in-One denotes the perfection of unity
[. . .] fulfilling itself in communion and becoming the source and
foundation of all communion.[. . .] "Each heartbeat is an impulse by
which the Father gives himself. These beats send towards us the blood of
the Son, given life by the breath of the Spirit" (Jesus, simples
regards sur le Sauveuer, Chevetogne 1959, p. 144). It is in this
rhythm of the heart that we are called to participate (74-75).
And it is in this rhythm too that we locate the
spiritual. Sandra Schneiders says: "We might define Christian
spirituality as that particular actualization of the capacity for
self-transcendence that is constituted by the substantial gift of the
Holy Spirit establishing a life-giving relationship with God in Christ
within the believing community" (The Catholic Faith 241). Actualizing
the capacity for self-transcendence focuses on the importance of
experience. This is so because we meet God in the actual living of our
lives and in all our relationships.
It would be true to say, then, that
the essence, or core of spirituality is to be in relationship. To
relate, as I see it, is to be in touch, in contact, to communicate and,
at its deepest level, to be in union or in communion. Spirituality
touches all our relationships. Anne Carr says: "Spirituality is
holistic, encompassing our relationships to all of creation. [. . .]
Christian spirituality entails the conviction that God is indeed
personal and that we are in immediate personal relationship to another,
and Other who "speaks" and can be spoken to, who really affects our
lives" (Women's Spirituality 49-50). The
Spiritual Direction Relationship
In this article I am interested in
the specific relationship of spiritual direction. While there can be a
spiritual direction relationship in terms of group, my particular
concern is with the one-to-one relationship. How are we to understand
this kind of relationship? F. Nemeck and M.T. Coombs see it in terms of
call and response: "The formation of a spiritual director-directee
relationship is the result of a twofold call: God calls a particular
directee to a certain director, and vice versa. The spiritual director
and the directee are sent to each other so that united in the same
Spirit they may together listen to God within the directee" (51). Barry
and Connolly state it thus: "we define Christian spiritual direction [.
. .] as help given by one Christian [the director] to another [the
directee] which enables that person to pay attention to God's personal
communication to him or her, to respond to this personally communicating
God, to grow in intimacy with this God, and to live out the consequences
of the relationship" (8).
What both of the above descriptions
emphasize is a relationship which focuses on tuning in to the Spirit's
presence in the directee, and on the role of the director in
facilitating the directee's growth in intimacy with God. In order to
clarify further the nature of the relationship between director and
directee, Barry and Connolly refer to it as a "working alliance" (139).
They expand on the meaning of this by stating that:
Spiritual directors consciously
ally themselves with the indwelling Spirit and the expression of that
spirit in the desire of the directees for "more" in the way of life and
union with God.[...]
A working alliance depends very
much on a mutual agreement between director and directee as to what the
directee wants and what the director can do (140-41).
From all of the above, it can be
seen that there is a clear purpose in setting up this relationship. It
is one to which both feel called: by a sense of vocation or charism on
the part of the director; by a need to discern or to grow in
relationship with God on the part of the directee. Therefore it is
freely chosen between two adults, with some expectations on both sides.
Sandra Schneiders speaks of spiritual direction as "a process." She says
it is "an ongoing relationship characterized by a certain continuity and
consistency." Furthermore, "the primary means used in the spiritual
direction process is personal encounter between the guide and the
directee" (Chicago Studies 125-26).
I would like to look more closely at the nature of
this personal encounter, what Gabriel Marcel calls, "that exchange which
is the mark of all spiritual life" (Homo Viator 50). I consider
presence to be the core and vital component of this exchange. Speaking
of the notion of presence Marcel says: "When somebody's presence does
really make itself felt, it can refresh my inner being; it reveals me to
myself, it makes me more fully myself than I should be if I were not
exposed to its impact" (Mystery of Being 205). Here Marcel refers to the
effectiveness of presence on one who is touched by its manifestation in
another person. In the same vein Ralph Harper says, "all presence has
authority, a force and radiance, unreserved yet unpredictable. One whose
presence makes others come alive is one who is alive and real.
Real life has its marks: immediacy, fullness, and something like the
annulment of time" (On Presence 4).
Presence is therefore
described as elusive yet real. It touches human experience in a vital
way, which can be difficult to put into words. Henri Nouwen says:
“In Jesus, God became one of us to
lead us through Jesus into the intimacy of his divine life. Jesus came
to us to become as we are and left us to allow us to become as he is. By
giving us his spirit, his breath, he became closer to us than we are to
ourselves.
It is through this breath of God
that we can call God "Abba, Father" and can become part of the
mysterious divine relationship between Father and Son. Praying in the
Spirit of Jesus Christ, therefore, means participating in the intimate
life of God himself” (Reaching Out 89).
This is the wondrous exchange by
which humanity is enabled to sense the depth of presence. This presence
is glimpsed in a moment of encounter when one human being is fully
attentive and available to another in such a way that communion in
mystery can be actualized and both are, to some measure, transformed in
the encounter. Openness
to Intimacy:
Relationship as presence is a
relationship which is open to intimacy. In our seeking for wholeness we
reach out to others and to God. Our embodied creation yearns for
completion. Speaking of the sensuous in the writings of the mystics,
O'Donohue says:
The mystics never preach a denial
of the senses, rather they speak of the transfiguration of the senses.
They recognize that there is a certain gravity or darkness in Eros that
can sometimes predominate.
The light of the soul can
transfigure this tendency and bring balance and poise. The beauty of
such mystical reflection on Eros reminds us that Eros is ultimately the
energy of divine creativity. In the transfiguration of the sensuous, the
wildness of eros and the playfulness of the soul come into lyrical
rhythm.
(Anam Cara 3l)
The spiritual direction
relationship is one type of this passionate relational dynamic which has
its source in the intimate exchange within the Trinity. Caught up in
God's intimate love, humans search for ways in which to respond with
enthusiasm and love.
If intimacy is a deep human desire
one can find this intimacy in God, who gives people to each other in
friendship as visible manifestations of divine love. Francis [de Sales]
and Jane [de Chantal] demonstrate that the deepest intimacy among people
is an intimacy that finds its origin and goal in God through Christ.
Affection plays a prominent role in their writings and in all their
relationships. (O'Driscoll 427-28).
To be open to this kind of intimacy
calls for a high level of trust and a readiness to risk. Speaking of the
soul trend O'Donohue continues:
The honesty and clarity of true
friendship also brings out the real contour of your spirit. It is
beautiful to have such a presence in your life.
We are capable of such love and
belonging because the soul holds the echo of a primal intimacy. [. . .]
This original echo whispers within every heart. The soul did not invent
itself. It is a presence from the divine world, where intimacy has no
limit or barrier (26).
Nemeck and Coombs note that the
director-directee relationship is dependent on three factors, the first
of which is that each is able to "arrive at self-intimacy." They explain
what they mean by this:
Self intimacy means being attuned
to whatever promotes in a responsible way our physical, mental,
emotional, spiritual health and well-being. It predicates ownership of
our thoughts, feelings, desires, aspirations and motives.
Self-intimacy facilitates the
discovery and development of our creative potential [. . .]. Yet
self-intimacy confronts us also with the unavoidable truth of our
sinfulness and weakness.[. . .]
Above all, intimacy with self
enables us to face the inescapable solitary dimension of our lives. [. .
.] The discovery of solitude opens us to deeper intimacy with self,
others and God (56-57).
Self-intimacy, then, indicates a
growth towards integrity and holistic self-awareness. It includes a
desire to know God and to know ourselves, and to face up and respond to
the call revealed in this unfolding awareness.
Intimacy involves closeness and to
come close to God calls for communication, for prayer. David Hassel has
observed that "prayer is intimacy, the deepest and most lasting of all
intimacies" (1). In other words, it is important that both director and
directee are persons of prayer, growing into an ever deeper relationship
with God. Intimacy requires also, some level of reflection on their
lives in relation to who that say they are as Christians in relation to
Gospel values. Being thus present to God, the director and directee are
enabled to be present to each other. Their presence to each other
somehow reflects the presence of God.
For this type of depth to occur in
the relationship I believe two qualities are required; an ease with
silence and an attitude of reverence. To reverence is to have a spirit
of profound respect mingled with a sense of wonder. Robert Morneau says:
"The ability to cut through the outer appearance and to perceive and
feel intuitively the inner sacredness and dignity of life is the gift of
the reverent person" (105). One of the ways reverence is shown in fact
is by listening or by an awed silence in the presence of God and of the
other. John O'Donohue says: "One of the tasks of true friendship is to
listen compassionately and creatively to the hidden silences. Often
secrets are not revealed in words, they lie concealed in the silence
between the words or in the depth of what is unsayable between two
people" (Anam Cara 112). This is the atmosphere in which the
spiritual direction encounter takes place. Directee's
Presence
The directee's presence is felt
perhaps most profoundly through the narrative he or she recounts. Janet
Ruffing points out:
In spiritual direction, people
frequently tell stories about experiences which are religiously
significant to the narrators. These stories either have to do directly
with God or with other people and life experiences which are illuminated
by God's presence [. . .]. Storytelling recreates the experience for the
narrator and the audience with emotional power. This reliving of the
experience through the narrative affords an opportunity for the
storyteller to appreciate the experience more fully and to reenter the
presence of the mysterious other originally encountered in the
experience (97).
It is important to note that the
"mysterious other" encountered in the re-telling of the experience
touches the director as well as the directee. Ruffing notes:
The directee's sharing of faith
experience through story can become a moment of communion in the same
reality disclosed by the story.
In recounting stories of faith, the
directee [. . .] relives the experience and witnesses to it. The
director imaginatively participates in this story and can at the same
time experience, in and through the directee, God actively present
within the direction setting (139).
In the mutual presence of director
and directee there is the experience of the breaking in of the divine
presence. Jesus has said it very directly: "Where two or three meet in
my name I am there among them (Matt. 18:20). Consciously meeting in the
name of Jesus, there is an awareness (unlike in the therapeutic
setting), that director and directee are experiencing a sacred moment in
the presence of the one who draws them. Through a willingness to be
profoundly open the directee allows the deeper reality to shine through
his or her narrative. However, this openness is no easy task, and
demands a singular courage, as Nemeck and Coombs point out: "When
directees open their heart to the director they stand exposed before
him/her in naked truth. To stand before another just as God sees them is
a formidable risk. It is to let go of all facades and defenses" (72).
The challenge here for the directee
is to let go of all falseness and dissembling, to be present in his or
her total reality, strengths and weaknesses. Only then can the truth be
revealed and the moment of encounter become a revelation of God's truth.
"This degree of self-disclosure," according to Ruffing, "is possible
because the director plays the role of a trusted intimate. This sense of
privacy and even more importantly trust in the confidentiality of the
narrative situation supports the directee's tentative efforts to express
himself or herself non-defensively in the narrative process" (117-18). Director’s
Presence:
The director's presence is revealed
in his or her response to the sharing or the narrative of the directee.
The director is most profoundly present in the way he or she listens.
"Be still and know that I am God" (Ps. 46:10). This, I believe, is where
the listening of the director begins. In order to be present to the
directee, the director must first meet him or herself in the presence of
God. In this opening to God the director becomes present to his or her
own deepest self. Nemeck and Coombs point out that "listening is
unconditional surrender to Abba. Listening is a giving of our deepest to
him whose depth has no end" (62). When the director listens in this way
he or she is enabled to be open and the directee is encouraged to share
the depths of his or her experience of faith. Through listening, then,
the director is an encouraging presence. O'Donohue observes:
There are people whose presence is
encouraging. [. . .] When someone encourages you, they help you over a
threshold you might otherwise never have crossed on your own. [. . .]
The sense of encouragement you feel from them is not simply their words
or gestures; it is rather their whole presence enfolding you and helping
you find the concealed door. The encouraging presence manages to
understand you and put itself in your shoes. (Eternal Echoes 63).
Here, O'Donohue touches on what it
means to listen with empathy, to be an empathic presence. One is present
when one is fully there, focused, and alert to the directee. This level
of presence involves a kind of loss. In the field of counselling Carl
Rogers says: "To be with another in this way means that for the time
being you lay aside your own views and values in order to enter
another's world without prejudice. In some sense it means you lay aside
yourself" (143).
This is reminiscent of Jesus'
saying in the Gospel: "I tell you most solemnly, unless a wheat grain
falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it
dies, it yields a rich harvest" (John 12:24). How is this loss, this
"death" evident in the spiritual director? The presence of the director
is expressed first of all through active listening, with its concomitant
skill of attending. To really listen like this, directors, for the
duration of the session, leave aside, "die," to their own needs in order
to be fully present and attentive to the directee. This transcending of
their own needs and desires is the cost of being truly present to the
other. However, it is a cost that can bear fruit. Being present in this
way in Christ, they support the directee's entrance into the depth of
self where they too may face the "death" which can lead to new life, and
so attain the "rich harvest."
Janet Ruffing enlarges on this
point when she says: "In this kind of interchange between a directee who
is telling a valued part of experience within the horizon of faith and a
director who may be very silent, the directee may learn to listen to the
story he or she is telling and to perceive what God is doing and how he
or she is responding" (101).
Listening together in this way to
the "still small voice" (1 Kings 19:13) the directee is helped to
discern the call of God in the ongoing journey of life. In the
experience of being listened to with respect in the midst of his or her
hesitancies and uncertainties, the directee can feel accepted and
understood and thus grow in trust. As Tilden Edwards says: "The director
imposes nothing but seeks to listen for and evoke the unfolding image of
God, the fullest, called-out humanity of the person" (Spiritual Friend
99). This kind of listening requires what, in the counselling context,
Gerald Egan calls an "intensity of presence." He says: "Helping and all
other deep interpersonal transactions demand a certain intensity of
presence. Attending, or the way you orient yourself physically and
psychologically to clients contributes to this presence" (62).
This is true, too, of the presence
of the spiritual director. Later, I will refer to other ways in which he
or she is present to the directee. I wish to say a brief word here on
the importance of bodily presence and awareness of body language. I
believe this is intimately connected with the act of listening.
According to Ruffing: "Narratives can only be produced through bodily
instrumentality. The communication which takes place between director
and directee is always immediately embodied. [. . .] Facial expression,
physical movement, voice, eye contact, physical sensations related to
affect all contribute to the communication process" (71). Therefore, the
way in which the director is alert to the whole person of the directee,
and the way in which the director is wholly present in all his or her
dimensions contributes to the quality of presence in this relationship.
Through body language the soul expresses itself in
the human exchange between director and directee. As both open
themselves to the experience of this depth shining through their
interaction they are expressing their faith in that greater reality -
the intimate exchange of love within the Trinity, the creative source of
human life. God draws us into intimate communion with himself so that in
touching that ground, we too may reach out in intimate communion with
one another and with all creation.
Edward Sellner sums up what this
soul friendship looks like:
People long for relationships of
genuine intimacy, stability and depth. Being accepted and loved by
another person is to be cherished, and not taken for granted - as is the
experience of being heard when one is not even sure what it is one is
trying to say. Soul friendship is a relationship that acts as a
container, a cell in which we can face the truth of our lives without
fear. Soul friendship is a place of sanctuary where the worst part of us
can be acknowledged, so that genuine change can begin to occur. Soul
friendship is also a relationship, a place where our joys and
accomplishments can be celebrated wholeheartedly. Healing and the
integration of mind and heart happen where there is mutual honesty and
trust (417).
This kind of relationship is
possible and desirable because it reflects the mysterious source of all
relationship. To this mystery I now turn. Mystery as
Presence
The spiritual direction
relationship is of its nature one open to the eternal, to mystery. It is
a relationship entered into because of mystery and it is sustained by
mystery. What is the meaning of this mystery? How can we refer to the
mystery of presence? How, in fact, is it experienced in the spiritual
direction relationship? I now turn my attention to these issues.
Karl Rahner sees the human as a
"being oriented towards God" (44). For him "the concept 'God' is not a
grasp of God by which a person masters the mystery, but it is letting
oneself be grasped by the mystery which is present and yet ever distant"
(54). The mystery of God, then, is a presence which attracts the human
person, who may accept or reject God's offer. Rahner points out that we
know the mystery "in the experience of subjective transcendence" (64).
He speaks of the mystery which "presents itself to us in the mode of
withdrawal, of silence, of distance, of being always inexpressible, so
that speaking of it, if it is to make sense, always requires listening
to its silence" (64). Here, I believe, he touches on our human
involvement with mystery through contemplation. And when this
contemplation takes place we can speak of the closeness as well as the
distance of God. According to Rahner, "the Christian interpretation of
the transcendental experience of God consists in the fact that the holy
mystery is present not only as a remoteness [. . .] but also in the mode
of an absolute and forgiving closeness and of an absolute offer of
himself" (86).
All through the Hebrew Scriptures and into the New
Testament we encounter a God who reaches out to humanity in this way.
This is the mysterious God we come to know in Jesus Christ, the Word who
became flesh and lived among us. (John l:14). In Jesus the mystery draws
near. In him we come to know the God who "emptied himself, taking the
form of a slave" (Phil. 2:7).
Rahner sums up the meaning of
incarnation:
The mystery of 'God becoming man.'
Here lies the center of the reality from out of which we Christians
live, and which we believe. It is only here that the mystery of the
divine Trinity is accessible to us, and only here that the mystery of
our participation in the divine nature is promised to us in a definitive
and historically tangible way.
[...] This mystery is
inexhaustible, and compared with it most of the other things we talk
about are relatively insignificant (213).
God's gracious self-communication
God's graciousness is expressed in God's desire to
enter into communion with humanity even "while we were still sinners"
(Rom. 5:8). God is always waiting to be gracious to us. God created us
in love and in love communicates himself to us. Rahner says this
"self-communication by God to a creature must necessarily be understood
as an act of God's highest personal freedom, as an act of opening
himself in ultimate intimacy and in free and absolute love. Christian
theology therefore understands this self-communication as absolutely
gratuitous" (123).
Here Rahner points out that not
only is God the giver, God is also the gift. The God who opens himself
in ultimate intimacy is the God who is available to humanity. This is
the God who reaches into history and forms a covenant with his people:
I shall maintain my faithful love
for him always,
My covenant with him will stay
firm. (Ps. 89:28)
In this covenant God's love is
expressed in a concrete and lasting way for humankind. Speaking of
God's presence through covenant, Samuel Terrien observes: "It is the
peculiarly Hebraic theology of presence which explains the importance of
covenant in Israel's religion and not the converse. The motif of
presence is primary and that of covenant is secondary" (3).
This covenant of love reflects the
bonds between God and God's people. Presence has a palpable quality, and
gives the sense of power, aliveness, "heart," to the covenant. In fact
it is the presence of the living God which gives meaning to the
covenant. This is true of the God revealed in the Old and New
Testaments. This is a God who is elusive, longed for by his people. This
is, at the same time, an unpredictable God. Terrien says:
The religion of the Hebrews, of
Israel, of post-exilic Judaism, and of the early Christians is permeated
by the experience, the cultic recollection, and the proleptically
appropriated expectation of the presence of Yahweh among men. [. . .]
Divine intervention in human affairs is generally, if not exclusively,
represented as sudden, unexpected, unwanted, unsettling, and often
devastating (28).
He goes on to say that this
presence of Yahweh was revealed in Jesus of Nazareth. It was only
through "the shattering impact of their faith in the risen Jesus as
'Lord' that the early "Christians were enabled to formulate a new
theology of presence" (29).
In this theology we experience the
mysterious God who comes close yet remains mystery. In Christ we are
invited, by our baptism to be participants in this mystery. The mystery
as Paul says is "Christ among you, your hope of glory" (Col. 1:27).
Jesus showed us the way. He was at the service of God's word and at the
service of all to whom this word was to be addressed. During his public
life, Jesus came to understand his task as the proclamation of God's
kingdom: "The kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the
Good News" (Mark 1:15). This kingdom of love and compassion was embodied
in his life. It was expressed in new patterns of relationships,
relationships built on love, on the inclusion of all, especially those
whom society of the time rejected. According to Walter Kasper, "Jesus [.
. .] laid himself open completely to the reign of God and became a
completely vacant and empty receptacle for God's living presence" (204).
Jesus revealed a God of compassion
who loved human beings so much that he identified with them and opened
himself to the cruel cost that loving unconditionally in a sinful world
entails. God's gracious gift reached its high point in the paschal
mystery of Christ's death and resurrection. Through the outpouring of
the Spirit humanity was enabled to open up and respond to God's gift. Response
to the Gift
In looking at the human response to
the mystery, I will refer to our response in prayer and contemplation,
then to how this response is reflected in the director, and in the
directee, and in their relationship. First of all I will point to some
general patterns of response.
God, as we have seen, opens himself
in love to humankind, who may accept or reject God's invitation to life.
For the Christian the roots of response are in baptism, and all of our
Christian life is a call to respond ever more deeply to the initial
grace of baptism. Incorporated into Christ by this initiation, our
life's journey is toward a more and more complete surrender to the
mysterious one who dwells within us. On this journey we meet many
obstacles blocking our way from within and from without. The invitation,
the grace is given. Our task is to answer; this is our spiritual quest.
Dick Westley says:
We should stop talking about the
"spiritual life:" We should talk rather about "life" and of our God who
is incarnate there, revealing to us in our experience all we need to
know, in order to, like God, be truly present to one another and to our
world. For if there is such a thing as Christian spirituality, it is a
spirituality of presence, and it is readily available to everyone
regardless of state or station. But we must never forget that we can
only be present to God and to one another through our bodies. This is
what it means to be human, to be an incarnate spirit (15).
With Westley, I believe the work of spirituality is
a work of liberation into our true humanity. We are gradually liberated
through our communion with the Mysterious Author of all freedom. I wish
now to reflect on this communion. Prayer
Dyckman and Carroll understand
prayer as "a growing interaction with our own life in and through the
Life who is God, an interaction that is 'response' because God initiates
and sustains the process [. . .]. Prayer is 'radical' in the sense that
[. . .] it gets at the very roots of our life, uprooting us, creating
the new person of the Gospel" (Inviting the Mystic 43-44). Here the
emphasis is on life, both human and divine. Prayer cannot be divorced
from the reality of our lives. In fact, through contact with God in
prayer we are uprooted and challenged to transformation, so that our
true self emerges. In this upheaval of prayer we come to know ourselves,
a process emerges whereby we are led outward to love and serve others,
and are drawn back again into solitude.
God communicates himself to us, and
it is our part to be alert to this communication. Doris Grumbach relates
one such experience. Her husband and children had gone to a nearby town
and she, 27 years old at this time, was sitting on the steps of her
home. She tells us:
Sitting there [. . .] listening to the quiet, I was
filled with a unique feeling of peace, an impression so intense that it
seemed to expand
on, second after second, so
pervasive that it seemed to fill my entire body. I relaxed into it,
luxuriated in it. Then with no warning, and surely without preparation
or expectation, I knew what it was: for the seconds it lasted I felt,
with a certainty I cannot account for, a sense of the presence of God.
You cannot understand how
extraordinary this was unless you understand that I was a young woman
without a history of belief, without a formal religion or any faith at
all. (3-4)
This young woman without belief was
surprised by God's revelation of himself in her experience. This is the
God who waits to be gracious to us, even before we know God's name. It
is interesting to note the setting of this encounter. Listening to the
quiet, she reminds us of Rahner's reflection on mystery (cited above) as
presenting itself to us "in a mode of silence." Entering into,
"luxuriating" in this mystery, her awareness deepened and she knew
without doubt that she was in the presence of God. When we pray we enter
consciously into this presence.
To the early Fathers of the Church
life without prayer was unthinkable. Speaking of prayer, John Chrysostom
says: "By prayer I mean not that which is only in the mouth, but that
which springs up from the bottom of the heart" (162). For him prayer is
not merely something vocal. It is an entering into the depths, the
heart, which is seen as the seat of God's dwelling within. Olivier
Clement observes: "Since human beings are in the image of God and this
image is restored in them and activated by baptismal grace, the presence
is already in them, in their 'heart,' in that most central of centers,
that deepest of depths, which is also openness to transcendence" (204).
The task of prayer, then, is to journey to the center, to find the
treasure within where God dwells. It is a choice to keep one's eyes
fixed on the One in whose image we are made, and into whose image we are
called to grow. This encounter in the depths of one's heart, this
relationship with God is a central focus in spiritual direction.
Harper says, "to be fully human and to be a
presence, a man or woman must have some equivalent of contemplation,
some experience with reflection or meditation that can give time for the
inner self to expand [. . .]. Out of the depths of the communion with
Being itself come riches that do not really belong to us and are not
ours to withhold" (On Presence 52). For someone who assumes the task of
guiding or companioning another on the spiritual journey this inner
expansion and communion with Being must be given priority of place. The
riches received in this communion are not merely for oneself but a gift
to be shared, a call to be responded to.
Contemplating the Mystery
In the Confessions, Augustine gives
us an insight into his understanding of contemplation. Conversing with
God he says:
And in all these things over which
I range as I am consulting you I find no secure place for my soul except
in you, and in you I pray that what is scattered in me may be brought
together so that nothing of me may depart from you. And sometimes
working within me you admit me to a state of feeling quite unlike any I
am used to, a kind of sweet delight which if it were perfected in me
would be something not of this world, not of this life. (Book X. 40,
159)
Reflecting on the meaning of
contemplation, William Shannon says: "It is a way of making oneself
aware of the presence of God who is always there.[. . .] In
contemplation I put off my false self, my empirical ego, and find my
true self in God. While that true self is distinct from God, in the
sense that I am not God, it is inseparable from God: it cannot be apart
from God" (209).
Allured by mystery, the human
being, the Christian, is drawn beyond him or herself to seek the true
self in God. This growth in awareness takes place only in the real
world, in the quiet of one's heart. This is seen in Jesus' life when he
went away to lonely places to be with his Father (Mark 1:35).
Christians, too, must go to the lonely place within, and in that empty
space meet the presence who calls them to communion. The call is to
communion in love. Evelyn Underhill describes contemplation as "an act
of love, the wooing, not the critical study, of Divine Reality. It is an
eager outpouring of ourselves towards a Somewhat Other for which we feel
a passion of desire; a seeking, touching, and tasting [. . .] of the
beautiful and true wherever found" (104).
This passionate love affair with
the 'Somewhat Other,' with the Mystery, is an on-going and deepening
relationship over time. It is reminiscent of the words of that most
passionate of love songs - The Song of Songs. Speaking to his Beloved
the bridegroom says:
Come then, my beloved my lovely one, come.
For see, winter is past,
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers are appearing on the earth.
The season of glad songs has come [. . .]
Come then, my beloved,
my lovely one, come. [. . .]
show me your face,
let me hear your voice;
for your voice is sweet
And your face is lovely. (Sg. 2:11-14)
The goal of all contemplation,
then, is the yearning of the heart to be united with the beloved in
love. It is only by allowing the unconditional love of God to touch and
to heal us that we are enabled truly to minister to others in our
Christian calling. This personal communion with God is vital to the
ministry of spiritual direction. Confronting him or herself before God,
the director can gradually become emptied of all the inner dross and
defensiveness, making room for the life of the Spirit to flow through.
In this surrender the director can become a channel for God's love,
shining forth to those who come seeking a deeper relationship with God. The
Contemplative Attitude
To say that presence is the core of
the spiritual direction relationship is another way of saying that
mystery is at its core. Speaking of the connection between presence and
mystery, Gabriel Marcel explains:
We have, in fact, real grounds for
stating that we discern an organic connection between presence and
mystery. For [. . .] every presence is mysterious and [. . .] it is
very doubtful whether the word 'mystery' can really be properly used in
the case where a presence is not, at the very least, making itself
somehow felt" (Mystery of Being 216).
Therefore, to be truly present to
the one who comes, the director has to keep in contact with mystery, to
lay hold of that "organic connection" through a development of the
contemplative attitude. Shaun McCarty expresses it thus:
'Mystery' is about personal
experience of God and the inexhaustible riches of ever-unfolding meaning
available through God's self-revelation [. . .].
Mysteries of faith are
elusive. The God of Biblical experience invites our reach, but eludes
our grasp. Mysteries defy domestication. (10)
The spirit in which the director
approaches the relationship with directees then, must be one of awe.
Unlike the therapist, who endeavors to help the person sort out or
clarify problems, the spiritual director has his or her gaze fixed
elsewhere. The director's gaze is fixed on the mystery of God unfolding
in the life of the directee. In order to be attentive to this unfolding
mystery, the director's horizon is broader and deeper than the field of
vision which is bounded by the view of the person before him or her.
What this means in practice is stated well by Max Woolaver when he says:
The director must learn the art of
paying close attention to his or her own sense of presence before God
while listening carefully to the directee. As paradoxical as this may
seem, the director's attentiveness to this sense of presence to God
becomes the root of the director’s sense of attentiveness to the
directee. I would go so far as to say that this attentiveness to God
ultimately constitutes the only open way by which the director is
enabled to pay close attention to the directee and the moment at hand.
(13)
From this we realize that it is not
only in his or her everyday times of prayer and special meeting with God
that the director attends to the mystery, but it is also at the very
moment of dialogue with the directee that this attitude of contemplative
attention is realized in action. For the act of listening and the act of
responding on the part of the director must be infused with the presence
of the One who loves us first. Then, out of this presence in love, the
director can respond to the real need and desire of the directee for the
"more" which is the Source of the call to growth in faith, hope, and
love. Gerald May gives us further insight into this attitude:
During the course of any spiritual
direction session, the director needs to keep remembering the reality of
what is happening. A constantly repetitive reminding of oneself may be
necessary here. It helps to begin the session with quiet prayer and with
a silent plea for grace to help one truly be a channel of God's truth
and love for the other person. During the session itself it is usually
necessary to keep re-orienting oneself towards God. There are times when
this happens easily and naturally [. . .]. But there are many other
times when it is not so easy.(116)
Anyone who has tried to pray
consistently knows how difficult it is to keep a single, undivided
attention on God. Translated into a spiritual direction session with the
added elements of human interaction - dialogue, listening, responding,
as well as the psychological components of ego and self-image - it would
seem to be almost an impossible expectation. May recognizes these
difficulties and asserts that "it is neither possible nor desirable to
rid ourselves entirely of such distractions" (119).
However, May helps us see how it
might be possible to keep this attention to the divine to the forefront
during the session. He does this through an explanation of what happens
in contemplative prayer. He says:
We experience an opening of
attention. The blinders around our eyes fall away, and we are granted a
panoramic view that is inclusive rather than selective. As this vision
expands, it is impossible to avoid sensing the reality of God. At the
most open point, we can no longer even identify ourselves as the seers.
Instead, it all becomes a oneness, a co-inherence that excludes nothing,
yet is fascinated by nothing [. . .]. The totality is all that exists,
and one knows and feels immediately, without any need for inference or
thought, that God is vitally and comprehensively present. (121-22)
In all of this discussion a word
which keeps cropping up is that of "attention." Linking this with the
whole notion of contemplation, I would like to highlight two components
of this attention which I consider integral incarnational aspects of the
director-directee relationship - gazing and listening.
The contemplative gaze is evident
in Jesus' encounter with the rich young man. We are told that "Jesus
looking on him loved him" (Mark 10:21). To gaze is to "look fixedly, it
is an "intent look" (339). This suggests to me an attentive absorption.
To gaze, therefore, has a passive as well as an active dimension. When
one gazes one has a sense of being drawn in, and in this way being held
by someone or by something. Speaking of the glory of God in nature, the
author of Ecclesiasticus concludes: "who could ever be sated with gazing
at his glory?" (Si 42:26). Gazing is an activity which takes time; it
cannot be rushed. It needs space; there must be some element of distance
if one is to gaze, to contemplate. Perhaps there is a paradox here, of
being absorbed in and, at the same time apart from.
Gazing, or looking intently with the "inner eye" of
the heart is central to the contemplative attitude in spiritual
direction. It is a look which "sees" the hidden mystery in the
encounter, while at the same time being alert to the real person of the
directee. One can hear someone more deeply and more accurately in all
dimensions when one is aware through a reverent gazing, of facial
expression, of gesture, of body language in all its forms.
Listening, too, opens us to communion with the one
we seek. Nemeck and Coombs describe this contemplative listening as it
relates to both director and directee:
In the context of spiritual
direction [. . .] listening is the basic stance of the director and the
directee towards God [. . .]. Together they must listen to God himself
giving the directee spiritual direction. Listening establishes communion
with God wherein both remain attentive to him in dark faith, complete
trust, unconditional love. Listening is a waiting together on God in
vigilant expectancy, sheer receptivity and unrestricted openness,
irrespective of particular words, thoughts, gestures or feelings. (63)
This is a level of openness and
detachment that can only be developed over time. Listening to God's
spirit and surrendered into God's hands, the director realizes that the
real spiritual director is the Lord, and that he or she is an instrument
in God's hands. Revelation
Mystery both conceals and reveals
the presence. Our gracious God will always be a hidden, while at the
same time a revealing God. To seek God is, in a sense, to come to the
realization that one has already been found by God. "The desire to go to
God, to open to His presence within us," says Thomas Keating, "does not
come from our initiative. We do not have to go anywhere to find God
because He is already drawing us in every conceivable way into union
with Himself. [. . .]. To consent to God's presence is His Presence"
(46). To consent to this presence is to receive life, the "abundant
life" Jesus came to give us (Jn.10:10).
Encountering Jesus, we come to know
God and to know ourselves. For Jesus reveals a God whose love is
unconditional. In Jesus we encounter a God who loves us in our
unloveableness, who reaches out to us in our sinfulness and failure. The
loving God, in revealing himself to us, reveals us also to ourselves.
Speaking of our experience of the sacred, Eugene Kennedy says:
The sacred opens a person to all
that faith expects of him even as it consolidates the kind of growth
which faith has already achieved.
The sacred stretches us to greater
possibilities of growth. It never gives us an experience that ends only
in itself. It breaks us out of ourselves, then, into a new awareness of
the social demands of Christianity [. . .]. The person who faces the
complete truth about himself, as it can be understood only by the light
of the Spirit, is a growing person, not a finished one. He is a man on
pilgrimage and he manifests the signs of the Spirit's presence as he
works at becoming actually himself (83).
Through receiving spiritual
direction, the person is facilitated to become more aware of the
insights revealed in his or her contact with God. We are encouraged to
meet the God who "stretches us," drawing us beyond self-preoccupation
into the Gospel love which reaches out to the 'least.' This probably
happens most effectively through the directee's realization that he or
she is first of all the "least," loved into life yet wounded, called at
the same time to healing and to reach out in love to other wounded human
beings.
Our very ordinary lives are the
place of the meeting with the mysterious Other. It is in the very
ordinary events of our lives, too, that growth and change occur. When
one enters into a relationship of spiritual direction, one is aware,
however vaguely, of one's need to grow. Growth is not a straightforward,
linear process, but a journey of many twists and turns. The
possibilities for self-deception are endless. So, too, are the
opportunities to meet the One "who called us out of the darkness into
his own wonderful light" (1 Peter 2:9); called us in such a way that we
are empowered to grow into our true selves. Nurturing
Presence
And all shall be well and
all manner of thing shall be well
By the purification of the motive
In the ground of our beseeching
(Eliot 57).
We already observed that presence
is a gift - God's gracious gift to himself to us in Jesus. Partaking in
this mysterious gift, life given for us, and life given to us, we are
empowered to share with each other something of this presence which has
embraced our lives. I would like to reflect a little on how this
presence may be nurtured. Presence, a gift, precious, elusive, and
fragile needs to be respectfully nurtured, so that it may be allured
into the light and come alive in the unfolding of life's experiences.
As already noted, the spiritual
direction relationship is concerned with the faith development of the
directee, with his or her growth in intimacy with God. The desire is for
ever deeper openness to the Presence within. The director-directee
relationship provides a climate which supports and encourages this
openness and development, in fact, a climate in which it is actively
promoted. Schneiders says: "The requirements for effective ministry in
the area of spiritual direction are determined by the final end of the
process itself, namely, the spiritual maturity of the directee.
Spiritual maturity is a fully-integrated life with God characterized by
freedom, fidelity, and fruitfulness" (130).
In order to nurture this
development, it is important for both director and directee to be alert
to the goal, or final end, of the process. This alertness includes an
awareness of the fact that one arrives at spiritual maturity by way of a
journey. It is not a once-for-all achievement, but something that takes
place step by step. As with any journey there are hazards along the way,
as well as moments of arrival, and the realization that there is still
more ground to be covered. Richard Byrne observes: "The spiritual
journey is at the heart of human wayfaring [. . .]. The Christian life
is a movement of ongoing conversion or transformation. It is a journey
during which the Christian is 'being transformed' into the image that we
reflect in brighter glory; this is the working of the Lord who is the
Spirit (2 Cor. 3:18, JB)" (565).
The task of the Christian wayfarer
is to cooperate with this work of the Lord. This movement of conversion
is achieved over time and by various means. One of the most effective
means is the nurture and support given by one's soul friend. Both the
searcher and the soul friend are human beings on the way, pilgrims who
have yet to arrive. In their interactions both can further the goals of
the process. Both can also hinder the process.
Asking questions, reflecting back feelings, the
director helps the directee grow in self-knowledge. This is a gentle and
gradual process, which can be fruitful only to the extent that the
director is empathically engaged in the experiences the directee shares.
It can also only be fruitful to the extent that both are committed
members of a faith community, which is, at the same time, a source of
nourishment and a call beyond the self to love, and service, and care
for all creation.
Barry and Connolly say that it is
necessary for the director to have "a surplus of warmth." They go on to
say that this is especially needed because of the risks directees take
in entrusting their deepest secrets and concerns to the spiritual
director. Unsure whether their own thoughts, feelings and experiences
make sense, directees need to know that the one who accompanies them is
a warm and understanding and truly human person. (126-27) Those who seek
direction are unlikely to entrust themselves to someone who gives little
evidence of really caring for them.
When the director loves in this way - when in
candour and truthfulness he or she can both affirm and challenge the
directee - the reality of his or her presence addresses the real
presence of the directee, and in that exchange both are enabled to touch
together the Ground of their relationship.
Being in love with God, the
director is open to grow in that increasing relatedness and increasing
transcendence (referred to by Tillich). In the session, through
interaction which actively promotes the encounter with God, the director
nurtures the possibility for the development of these same qualities in
the directee. When these qualities in the director meet with an openness
and willingness on the part of the directee to engage the Lord in
prayer, to be open to grow in self-knowledge and love, and to stay with
the process, no matter what the cost, then a very positive climate is
there for the growth of that freedom which is the goal of all spiritual
life. However, no relationship in this life can hope to make the journey
without facing limitations and setbacks. I will now reflect on these
blocks as they impinge on this relationship. Hindrances
Entering into relationships,
especially relationships of any depth, bring great rewards, but also
highlight our vulnerability. This is true of our relationship with God
as well as of that relationship which sets out to foster growth in
relationship with God - that between director and directee. Our
vulnerability can open us up to tremendous joy. It can also close us off
in fear of reality and keep us apart from the Presence that draws us.
Because of this, obstacles to achieving the very purpose of spiritual
direction can enter into the relationship.
It would be impossible in an
article such as this to focus on all the possible areas of disturbance.
I will concentrate on what I consider to be perhaps the most common, and
often the most serious areas. Resistance
From the point of view of the
directee, one of the ways he or she can hinder the process is through
resistance. Part of the cost in spiritual direction is the willingness
to trust someone enough to share with him or her one's deepest, and
perhaps most feared, secrets. Barry and Connolly point out: "Resistance
often crystallizes around some kind of secret: There is something I
don't want the Lord, or my director - or frequently enough myself - to
know about. The resistance begins to occur when the 'secret' gets close
to the surface of awareness. Obviously there is no way around the
difficulty; the secret must eventually be shared with the Lord" (99).
From the foregoing we realize that
resistance is, of its nature, unconscious. As a form of self-protection
against what is unknown or threatening, it is a normal part of human
growth. However, it is necessary to bring this material to awareness,
and to own it in order that the person may flourish and grow. With the
directee, resistance to growth and change is no different from
resistances in other areas of life. Defense mechanism, such as
avoidance, intellectualization, rationalization, etc., are very readily
used against the emergence of painful insights, or challenges that must
be faced.
This is a reminder of the
importance of praying for the person that he or she may open to the work
of grace. It also points to the importance of the director experiencing
direction in his or her own spiritual journey. Then, having experienced
it in his or her own life, the director will be wise enough to expect
and to perceive this resistance in the directee. The director needs also
to be alert to his or her own resistances and areas of unfreedom as they
emerge in the relationship. Being willing to engage these resistances in
his or her own life, the director will learn that, in fact, resistance
can be paradoxical. If not faced it "obstructs the listening process"
(Nemeck and Coombs 73). It may block all movement forward on the
spiritual journey. At the same time awareness of its presence can be a
healthy sign that some truth is seeking the light, and that with much
patience, and care, and empathic listening the resistance can be
breached and new life may blossom. Arthur Robbins says: "Presence gives
us the ability to touch someone in the deepest core of where they live
and ultimately may be the most effective agent to help someone overcome
their stubborn resistance to change" (156).
Transference
Another problem which commonly
hinders the goal of the direction encounter is that of transference.
Barry and Connolly note that "one of the most effective ways to resist
growth in the relationship with the Lord is to distort the reality of
the director." This distortion or transference they define as "a
reaction based on the assimilation of the director to an image derived
from one's childhood" (157).
Transference, which is mostly
unconscious, can be positive or negative. In the feelings of the
directee the director becomes a caring mother or kindly father, and the
directee is more concerned with pleasing this "parent" than with his or
her self as it emerges in relationship with the Lord. Or the director
can be perceived as an authority to be placated, and therefore the
directee will steer clear of any controversial issue which may "rock the
boat," staying grounded in the false and fearful self. In transference,
then, the presence becomes distorted, both the presence of the director
and the presence of God.
Gerald May says: "One of the most
helpful ways of recognizing transference is to notice feelings of
countertransference." Among these feelings he notes confusion on the
part of the director, talking too much during the session, trying to put
things right; attractions, repulsions, undue worry about the directee;
movement away from transparency in the interchanges and so on. However,
he concludes: "Just because transference creates problems in spiritual
direction does not mean that it cannot be a graced event. Just as God
works through our personal unconscious craziness, God can also work
through distortions in relationships" (129-31). Further
Hindrances
Another risk of all helpers, and
spiritual directors is the need to be the savior. Because he or she is
uncomfortable with pain expressed by the other, the director can spend
his or her energy trying to "solve" the directee's "problems." A
director may be uncomfortable with the expression of anger at God. He or
she may project this negative attitude in such a way as to effectively
block the directee from expressing anger in this way. The director may
also be inclined to impose a way of prayer on the directee, without
fully taking into account whether it is suitable for this person at this
time. In all of these "temptations" it is helpful for directors to
reflect on the following: "The purpose of spiritual direction is to help
directees help themselves be helped by God. Rather than fostering
dependency, we seek to assist the directee in becoming more mature,
responsible and free" (Nemeck and Coombs 94).
Conclusion
In this article I have explored the
notion of relationship as one of intimacy, emerging from the passionate
communion within the Trinity. Rooted in this divine relationship through
a life of prayer and service, two people are drawn together into the
exchange known as the soul friend relationship. I have referred to these
two people as director and directee because of the role each assumes in
the relationship. Both are united in their desire to help the directee
discern the direction in which God is leading him or her. This is with a
view to enabling the directee live his or her life in an authentically
Christian way.
The encounters between these two
persons are carried out in a contemplative atmosphere, which is an
atmosphere consciously open to the eternal Presence we call Mystery or
God. Informed by this mystery each is able to be more fully present to
the other. Active listening and silence play a vital part in allowing
this presence to emerge; honesty and transparency are key elements in
its growth.
In a world where we are tempted to anaesthetize
ourselves against reality with a constant barrage of noise, the quiet
constancy of communion in presence is a deep-seated need, though not a
popular choice. In a world where 'doing' swallows up our restless hours
and days, a presence that centers on 'being' has become a profoundly
necessary counterbalance.
In order to live one's life out of
these values - which are basically Gospel values - one needs to remain
close to the Source of all presence through a life of prayer. One would
be will advised not to go it alone, but to have a wise companion on the
journey, a soul friend who appreciates one's deepest inner longings and
encourages one to live from the center.
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