Whispers to the soul

A review of Cave Refectory Road: Monastic Rhythms for contemporary living, by Ian Adams


This book is a gift (it actually was a gift, free with a subscription to Third Way magazine). It is only a slim volume but has taken me several weeks to read - not because it's a struggle, but because with almost every turn of the page there is so much to ponder and reflect on.

I have often, over the past few weeks, been caused to lay aside the book and respond to God in silent longing, as the Ian Adams takes the essence of common monastic disciplines and breathes fresh life into them, offering a way of being that is accessible and attractive to those of us outside of religious orders.
Adams writes with what I can only describe as words from God. There's a gentle poetic rhythm to his prose that whispers to the soul, inviting engagement with the divine. And while there's a simplicity and economy of language, his choice of words so often speaks of mystery and otherness.
I have given this book 5 stars (Amazon). Not because it's perfect, but because a book that enables encounter with God to such a degree deserves nothing less. Inspired.

Thank you for this is hidden treasure.

Stuff

I'm reminded of a kids' video featuring the Veggietales (Larry the Cucumber, Junior Asparagus, et al), in which Larry (I think) fills his life with 'stuff', material goods, and is challenged by a fellow vegetable:
'How much more stuff do you want, Larry?'
'I dunno,' he responds, 'how much more stuff is there?'
A classic line and one that cuts to the heart.

The reason I bring this to mind is that we're having our loft re-lagged in preparation or winter. We've therefore had to clear said loft of its contents.

Now, as an aside, I should point out that Mrs Pilgrim and I are not the materialistic type, nor do we consider ourselves hoarders. Indeed, whenever I announce my intention to acquire a new book/item of clothing or whatever, Mrs P can be guaranteed to retort: 'Make sure you throw another one out first'. So you will appreciate, we're unlikely to possess more stuff than most other people - in fact I'd guess we'd be in the lowest quartile of British people when it comes to ownership of stuff.

So you may be able to imagine my distress on emptying our loft as I witnessed a room fill with unimaginable quantities of stuff: spare microwave, 'O' level geography notes, baby bath (it's at least 15 years since we needed that), a 50 year old suitcase, miscellaneous rolls of carpet, empty boxes retained for re-packaging precious items when next in transit (the items concerned have long gone), a selection of glove puppets, two multi-coloured hat boxes (we don't do hats), a broken sledge, a set of second hand golf clubs that hadn't hit a ball in 10 years....

Thankfully I've deposited a car load at the local recycling centre, and we'll be dropping off another car load at a charity shop. But there remains an obscene quantity of objects that we feel unable to let go, either because it might come in handy', or 'we can't  throw that away'. And the thought or returning these to the loft after the insulation guys have been distresses me further still.

Ian Adams in his book Cave, Refectory, Road reflects on the realistic application of monastic practice to modern life. Considering simplicity, he says of monastic community: 'There is less of almost everything that most of us surround ourselves with - fewer words, fewer images, less stuff - and more of the things that we sense may enhance and re-imagine the experience of human being - more depth, more stillness, more reflection.'

See me on twitter: KenLivo

Our God is a great big God

At church we sing lots of kids' songs about God being BIG. A bit cringy, but not bad theology.

However, since kids (and the rest of us) need reality to support whatever the adults may tell them, I'm thinking: does the way we live our lives reflect a belief that God is big? Would someone observing the way I live think: 'blimey, he must have a big view of God?'

What would that kind of life look like? Well, I guess it would need to be based on whatever I believed - my beliefs about the world will determine how I live my life; if they don't then they aren't beliefs.

A big God must be bigger than any of my thoughts (to paraphrase Anselm, who defined his belief in the existence of God using the phrase "that than which nothing greater can be conceived"). Yet, too often we constrain God within the limitations not just of our thinking capacities but within something far short of our human imagining, namely doctrinal constructions. In saying that, I'm not being critical of doctrine per se. But, if we're to be faithful to our faith in a 'great big God', we must at least hold lightly to any concepts, ideas or doctrines we may hold; we must be humble in our conception of God.

A big God must also therefore be capable of surprising us. If God does not, there's something wrong with how we're seeing God in our life. The fact is, life is full of surprises, some of them unpleasant, many of them unseen - but we often attribute only a selection of life's events to God's activity, perhaps because our view of God doesn't encompass the other stuff, or because we don't take the time to reflect on the familiar things, and in the process our 'great big God' shrinks still further.

And a big God must surely be capable of greater deeds than his creation, greater love, greater forgiveness, greater mercy, greater goodness. Some of our doctrines don't reflect this - once again we limit God's 'bigness' to the extent of our capacities to love, forgive, show mercy, be good.

And before you know it, our great big God has been reduced to human scale.

No wonder so many of our kids don't believe it.

Hello, hello, I'm back again

After more than 2 years silence, I'm re-entering the world of blog. Not planning on saying much today, more of a case of putting myself out there again, so I'll feel compelled to continue.

I've just signed up to twitter. At last I can see some value in what had previously eluded me - although I'm not yet a convert - more twittering round the edges. Which is what I do - I guess that's what many of us do - a thought leads to putting one's toe in the water, see what it feels like: is there value in this? why should I invest my time in this? What's the point? That's the kind of stage I'm at with twitter. I'm prepared to admit it may yet turn out to be a complete waste of time, but I'll give it a go.

As ever, I'm mostly interested in what people have got to say about spirituality etc. So far through twitter, I've learnt that Rob Bell is leaving Mars Hill church - may mean little to you - to me it's significant; that the self same Rob Bell is partnering with the producer of 'Lost' to write a movie script; and that yesterday was St Bavo's Day, a 7th century Belgian monk who lived in a hollow tree (courtesy Ship of Fools).

Off now to tweet! (KenLivo on twitter.com)

True to type

I wonder...Just been looking at the blogspot of someone I met briefly at the recent workshop I attended. As I bounced around her site, I found several points of connection: favourite books, films, spiritual leanings, etc. Then I noticed she identified herself as INTJ in Myers-Briggs (http://www.myersbriggs.org/) terms - same as me. Now I know that some people hate such systems with a vengance - I'm not one of them. Over the years I've found Myers-Briggs in particular really useful in helping better understand myself, others (particularly those I find irritating) and the interactions between us.

And I'm wondering just how much our personality profile influences our tendencies - whether for the arts, literature, spirituality.

Now, related but not very. The spooky world of coincidence. In the past 4 days, I've happened upon Myers-Briggs twice, having not collided with it for years. On both occasions the subject was initiated by the other party, and on both occasions the other party turned out to be...INTJ. Now that in itself is hardly very remarkable. However, it is one of a series of five or six coincidences that have drifted across my path in recent weeks - whether hearing the same quote from two entirely different sources, for the first time ever, in a matter of hours; or picking up a book from my stack of 'to be read at some point' tomes, then deciding to also have a look at my shelf full of Penguin Classics (Christmas pressie), most of which I've yet to read - and finding that I'd chosen exactly the same book (totally different cover and format).

This kind of thing hasn't happened to me for ages, but it just seems like I'm in a season of coincidences. Which makes me think I'd like to explore once more 'The Celestine Prophecy'

(http://www.amazon.com/Celestine-Prophecy-James-Redfield/dp/0446671002), which, insightfully, has a fair few things to say about the world of coincidences.

An interesting experience...

I've just returned from a workshop in Sheffield on 'Participation in Church'. Not sure what I was expecting, although it was being led by a team which included two colleagues who I know to be quite radical in their approach. The workshop described itself as: 'a day conference to explore new and innovative ways of ensuring that people are involved in the life, decision-making, shaping and transformation of the 21st century church.'

In a sense, the 'church' bit was neither here nor there. The techniques used can be and are used in all kinds of contexts. The main focus of the day was The World Cafe (http://www.theworldcafe.com/index.htm), an approach that involves discussion around well-framed questions, by groups of people gathered around tables. At the end of each 'round', people move onto another table, considering another question, leaving just one person at each table to introduce the arriving group to the conversation so far. The tables are draped in paper coverings on which people are encouraged to write and draw as part of the process. Thus the discussion of a particular question is considered several times by several groups, each building on the thoughts of the previous group. Potentially some very rich and innovative thinking can develop.

I certainly gained some useful insights into issues around our church, and will be looking for opportunities to apply this approach. I'll let you know how I get on.

To be honest...

Well, I did say I'd report on my experience with silence. To be honest, I've found it pretty hard. Hard to get down to it - as ever, sometimes anything seems preferable to locking myself in a room alone. Yet even when that feels attractive, actually achieving silence is quite a challenge in the context of a family home. And even when the conditions are right, there's a fair chance that I'll come over drowsy and drift through the time, feeling totally lousy about myself afterwards.

But these are just excuses: I'm a free man with plenty of choice over how I use my time, and, if I really want to (if I really, really want to), I can find a place of silence. I may have to go to another room, or even leave the house and sit in the part. I can even stand up, splash my face, or whatever to remain alert. I deceive myself.

The question is, how much do I want to hear God? I find that almost too uncomfortable to even contemplate right now.

I have to say, I'm very glad that it's now February, and as I decided at the start of the year, that means it's time to move on to a new discipline. Feeling the need for greater substance, something to get hold of beyond my own drifting thoughts, I've decided to use Lectio Divina (sacred reading). I've tried this before and found it really helpful, so I'm hopeful of a more positive experience in Feb.