I joined a contemplative apostolate recently in the hopes of deepening my prayer life, growing in virtue, and becoming more charitable through the community. Maybe God is "preparing the soil" for a new vineyard to be planted in my life, and part of that new planting is pruning out some of the old that is taking up space.
One way I feel the Lord is calling me "into the deep" is through more solitude. I am pretty social by nature (an "extroverted introvert"), and though I discerned a contemplative monastic vocation for ten years in my twenties, it was clear that marriage and family was my calling. I have never doubted that decision, as the peace was apparent (unlike in discerning monastic life, where I likened it to finding a great shirt at a thrift store but it's a size too small, so it always chaffs under the arms and is just a little too tight around the chest; it just never quite fits right). So, I have to live out my calling as a married man and father, and balance that solitude with my family and work responsibilities, and I'm trying to figure out how to best do that in accordance with God's will.
Without a spiritual director, I try to K.I.S.S. (keep it simple) for the time being--attending Sunday Mass, daily rosary, half hour of mental prayer per day, reading scripture each morning, reading the works of the saints, regular confession, First Friday/Saturday, regularl Adoration, remaining in a state of grace, etc. I also try to go on a three day retreat in solitude once a year at a hermitage about three hours from us. I have to trust that God will provide the grace for those who desire to be united with Him, even if they don't have all the "resources" to attain the heights of perfection.
I find solitude can be a teacher, as it is said in the stories of the desert fathers, "sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything" (Abba Moses). But for most of living in the world, it is like a salt or seasoning--like our Lord who retired to a lonely place, but then was called back to the work of his ministry.
What I find in solitude is that there is no toleration for lying--eventually, you see yourself as you really are. This can be hard to bear. Even in our prayer life and spiritual life, sometimes in community we can compare ourselves to others, find fault with ourselves or others, or paint ourselves in a certain (best) light. We need holy friendships, but I find the words of Thomas a Kempis in the 20th chapter of The Imitation of Christ ring very true:
"The greatest Saints used to avoid the company of men (Heb.11:38) whenever they were able, and chose rather to serve God in solitude. A wise man once said `As often as I have been among men, I have returned home a lesser man. (Seneca,Epist.VII) We often share this experience, when we spend much time in conversation. It is easier to keep silence altogether than not to talk more than we should. It is easier to remain quietly at home than to keep due watch over ourselves in public. Therefore, whoever is resolved to live an inward and spiritual life must, with Jesus, withdraw from the crowds(Mark 6:31).
No man can live in the public eye without risk to his soul, unless he who would prefer to remain obscure. No man can safely speak unless he would gladly remain silent. No man can safely command, unless he has learned to obey well. No man can safely rejoice, unless he possesses the testimony of a good conscience."
And so, I'm balancing this need for spiritual (and physical) community with this growing need to withdraw, to stay hidden, to close the door and commune in the "secret place" more intentionally, yet without going astray in the process.
I call to mind an obscure American artist named James Hampton, who lived, worked, and died in obscurity as a janitor. His religiously-themed “The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations’ Millennium General Assembly” (photo below) took him a laborious 14 years to complete, and was created from...trash (scavaged aluminum foil and light bulbs, cardboard boxes and coffee cans, jelly jars and wood scraps, etc). His focus was not on being famous or being discovered, but on simply creating beautiful art. “The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations’ Millennium General Assembly” was discovered in a D.C. storage unit posthumously by his landlord and transferred to the Smithsonian. Hampton died from stomach cancer in 1964 in relative obscurity.
Although this is a secular example, it speaks of a single-minded purpose and a willingness to devote oneself, without cause for fanfare or recognition. I find some of the hardest lessons for me in my spiritual life is learning to listen rather than speak, finding comfort in solitude rather than chaffing, and dealing with the temptations towards vaniglory and spiritual envy that can sometimes come with community. I obviously have to do it within my state in life, but I find as hard as solitude is to bear sometimes, it is an exacting master that has a lot to impart when we make time for it.
I also have a lot to learn with keeping spiritual gifts hidden for the Lord's eyes only, not to show off to others or make a name for oneself or treat it like another type-A endeavor to master. We know the great saints like St. John Vianney who the Lord called to labor tirelessly in the public vineyard. But few of us have as great a devotion to the nameless peasant farmer John Vianney found in his church, whom we know nothing about; when the great saint asked the farmer what he does when he stared at the tabernacle, he replied "I look at him, and he looks at me." This is the essence of the hidden spiritual life I hope to grow in, may the Lord will it. I have a long way to go!
(photo credit, wikicommons: Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millenium General Assembly, by James Hampton. Folk art in the Smithsonian American Art Museum (National Portrait Gallery), Washington, DC, USA.)
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