Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all who truly turn to him.
COME unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. St. Matt. xi. 28.
So God loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, to the end that all that believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. St. John iii. 16.
Hear also what Saint Paul saith.
This is a true saying, and worthy of all men to be received, That Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. 1 Tim. i. 15.
Hear also what Saint John saith.
If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the Propitiation for our sins. 1 St. John ii. 1, 2.
The meaning of the English word ‘comfortable’ has changed over the centuries. It's not so much about being put at ease as one might be in a recliner in front of the television or enjoying the breezes of summer in a hammock under the trees. Rather the word comfort, as its etymology suggests, had to do with strengthening and upholding. It's in this light that these words provide comfort: they strengthen and uphold us in our faith.
The first of these comfortable words or sentences we hear at the end of today’s Gospel passage:
“Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
It’s on these words that I’d like to reflect this morning, albeit very indirectly. Today we are in the fifth and final of our so-called Contemplative Days, days of silence with a reduced worship and work schedule that we observe several times in the year. We have found them to be very popular among our friends who are searching for a radical, if temporary, change in the rhythms of daily living. I'm not certain how we ended up naming this practice Contemplative Days. I think it was the invention of a previous guest master who is no longer with our community. It's a catchy name and has a certain cachet. It seems everybody wants to be a contemplative now, at least for a while. The hospitality sector has certainly enticed people on vacation packages with popular images that many associate with contemplation of one sort or another…images of the ultra-thin woman sitting in a yoga posture expensively, if scantily, clad in a tropical setting. Or the couple sitting on a dock staring over the waters, gazing in the middle distance, holding hands. Or the red mountains of Sedona best enjoyed with a healthful probiotic beverage in hand. And truthfully even monasteries have used such visual propaganda. You know the image: the hooded monk sitting under a large tree and holding an enormous volume, preferably printed before 1500.
But it all leaves me wondering: what does it really mean to be contemplative? It may involve silence though not necessarily. It may involve solitude, though not necessarily. It may be a way of praying, but again not necessarily. When push comes to shove, it must somehow be a way of living, of being. If it’s not that, who cares? For me a handful of characteristics mark contemplative living. The first is the demand to live with attention and awareness. One of the Desert Fathers said: ‘Unawareness is the root of all evil.” I think he was right. And it is my own refusal to pay attention to the world and others and to engage in the challenging discipline of honest awareness—about myself, my community, my relationships, my world—that keeps me from living a more fully contemplative life, a more fully Christian life.
I believe that a contemplative life is one lived in time and that takes time seriously. That takes time to do what is necessary and takes time to recognize what is not just unnecessary but an evasion or a dishonesty. The best advice I ever got about contemplative living came from the late Winifred Osta who worked in our kitchen years ago. I was rushing around as was, and is still too often, my wont. And Winifred would simply tell me: Robert, you’re rushing too fast. I know it’s not always a practical or welcome observation nor particularly profound, but for me to act as if I had all the time in the world was a powerful antidote to my penchant to get things done fast and well. When we bless the candle at the Easter Vigil we say:
To God belong at all times and all seasons. They are only lent to us. Until we understand that, until we practice that we will never live contemplatively.
The third mark is the dynamic of work in its broadest sense. To live contemplatively is to work at something with our whole being and to lose ourselves in it, if only occasionally. It may be as simple as preparing a meal for oneself or a loved one or as dramatic as rescuing a child or a nation in peril. Admittedly, for many people, work is drudgery…without apparent meaning or just reward. But to live contemplatively is to learn to see in our own work, however menial or unproductive or limited, and in the work of others a dignity that befits the children of God. At the entrance to our guesthouse is a stone with the Latin motto Ora et Labora…Pray and Work…often used as a handy summary of Benedictine spirituality. Both prayer and work are very ordinary and yet very necessary. Together they constitute a privileged path to sanctity.
The fourth and final characteristic of contemplative living comes directly from today’s Gospel where Jesus says: My yoke is easy and my burden is light. The truth is: we are all yoked. That is, every one of us is connected to each other, to the creation and to God. And we all bear burdens. And if we are fully human, we share each other’s burdens. Our goal as Christians is not to be unyoked or unburdened, but to be furthered yoked and at the same time to welcome and accept the burdens that our rightfully ours, sharing them with others as they share theirs with us. Perhaps we are so weary so often because we are carrying the wrong burdens or laboring under yokes of our own creation and not those that God allots or allows for our true human flourishing. If the true contemplative knows anything, it is this: that we are all in this together. There is no other way.
Attention, time, work, burden bearing/burden sharing: this for me is contemplative living. Simple, ordinary, challenging, holy, life-giving.
Let the final words be those of Jesus as channeled through Eugene Peterson’s popular paraphrase The Message:
"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me - watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."
Amen. Or as Peterson would put it: Oh, yes!
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