It may seem strange that the title of this (last) post is the sub-heading of chapter six in Martin Laird's fine book 'Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation.' Why not something from chapter seven or the epilogue, you ask?
I think Martin does a really nice job of blending and building the chapters onto one another. What, at first glance, may seem as though "Why does he keep saying the same things over and over"... He's really not. There are slight and subtle nuances in depth. Perhaps that's why I was so excited as I finished the book, but it was a bit difficult to convey looking at the separate pieces.
In the end I've determined I simply can't do justice to explaining this to anyone. I'm certain I have yet to grasp it... but there's a sense... like I've caught a waft of fragrance I can't quite place but I'm really quite drawn to. And it may not have drawn me in at other times in my life, but it is now.
That said, I'm merely going to drop some quotes from the last two chapters and offer a brief reflection at the end. Here goes...
CHAPTER 6 - FROM VICTIM TO WITNESS
Most of us live much of our lives caught in the whirlwind of the stories going on in our heads. As our contemplative practice matures we are presented with opportunities to drop the story and to look straight into these thoughts and feelings that lead many of us around by a nose ring. And we see they are without substance. Without the story, they have no power. This insight is behind Mark Twain's famous line. "I'm an old man now and have had a great many problems. Most of them never happened." A lot goes on in our heads that is quite worthless. (115)
CHAPTER 7 - THE LITURGY OF OUR WOUNDS: TEMPTATION, HUMILITY, AND FAILURE
"Through his wounds we are healed." -Isaiah 53:5 (117)
The doorway into the silent land is a wound. Silence lays bare this wound. (117)
The paradox, however, is that this healing is revealed when we discover that our wound and the wound of God are one wound. (118)
God meets the human condition where it stands most in need, in its poverty and brokenness, and as we make our pilgrim way along the path of contemplation, we will certainly meet, as Merton puts it, "what we resent most in ourselves." (120-121)
"My grace is enough for you: for power is at full stretch in weakness" (2 Cor 12:8-9). What Paul wanted was relief from his struggle. What he received instead was God. (121)
The practice of contemplation teaches us how *to be* in this wound. (121)
Our wounds don't strike us as anything but brokenness and failure. But when we enter the silence that is the ground of all, what we make of our brokenness and failure gradually comes to look very different. (121)
Trial, temptation, and struggle are the making of the contemplative. Take away these and you take away tremendous opportunity for growth, depth, and wisdom. (123)
How can the struggle with a temptation have any benefit? In order to see this we must first learn to recognize judging thoughts just as we would any other distracting thought and work it into our contemplative practice. The first step, then, is not magically to decide somehow to avoid judgmental thoughts, but to catch ourselves in the act... (124)
Self-loathing is just another video we've learned to watch. This actually is an obstacle to the humility required to see straight through our wounds into God. (127)
Humility is perfect... when its goal is God alone. Humility is imperfect when its goal is anything else mixed with God. ... We have to let go of everything, even our sense of being a miserable failure. (128-129)
**It is not uncommon to find people with very sensitive consciences and who seem to have a certain attraction, even aptitude, for the contemplative path, but who cannot come to terms with things that have happened in their past. Not only can they not accept divine forgiveness, they cannot forgive themselves. Consequently their self-esteem is too low to accept the fact that failure is part of the search for God.** (130)
* Our wounds are our trophies. ... Our own interior silence will have solved many riddles and opened many doorways before we can stare failure in the face and see not our own face but God's. In the Crucified and Risen One, grace and disgrace have been joined. Because of this, our failure opens onto the luminous vastness of our depths, where Christ silently presides in the unfolding liturgy of our wounds. (132)
EPILOGUE: "WHO AM I?" A TALE OF MONASTIC FAILURE
The ending is so... I don't even know how to describe it. Perfect? There are no quotes for me to pick out. It's a story... almost a parable... that I'm not sure I quite understand... but at the same time it's like the story of... everything.
Sorry, I don't feel it would be right to say anything more about it.
SUMMARY OBSERVATION:
As for the book as a whole... Man. I used to think I was a somewhat contemplative person. Now I feel like I don't know the first thing about it... AND THAT'S A GOOD THING! The double asterisk above hit me squarely between the eyes (and heart).
I guess, in the end, what excites me most about this book is not how good it is, how well it's written, how much I understand it, or maybe even how important it is... In such an odd way, what gives me such hope is... that I'm so bad at this!!! Lol. Yet, it's in this failure that I find solace. And hopefully... you know... ... God.
If you have followed along in these five posts, God bless you! They probably don't offer much help to anyone but me. I don't apologize for that, but I appreciate you being here. Thanks.
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