Logs on a Fire

Charlotte Ostermann

 

            When we barely have time for conversations with friends, it can seem impossible to find uninterrupted stretches of time to converse with God.  When I do sit down to pray, it takes a while to become truly still – housekeeping, chauffeuring, shopping, sideline cheering, and the rest all demand constant movement.  My mind actually gets more active when I take time to be quiet – making lists, arranging logistics, watching interior ‘movies’ and fleeing from focus on God.  In all this noise of mental and physical activity, how are we to hear the still, small voice, much less dialogue with it?  Taking advice from St. Teresa of Avila on this question at first seemed to me like having a first-grader take a graduate class, but I found one image at the heart of all her writing that seemed to simplify it all for me.  The image of the interior chamber literally ‘brought home’ to me her experience of simple hospitality toward God.  Ah, I know how to welcome a friend, how to prepare and give pretty much undivided attention.  With each special friend’s arrival, I go over my mental ‘show and tell’ list of topics to be sure to cover before she has to leave.  This, I can do! And talk?  There is never enough time for all the conversation friends wish for. 

          According to St. Teresa, if I could learn to simply welcome Him as a dear friend into that interior ‘home’ of mine, our love would thrive.  I trusted her experience, though she went fathoms deeper yet into the life of prayer, because she had such a battle herself against the distractions of her very active mind.  Rather than learning to quiet the intellect, she learned to ignore it as you might ignore a child who wanders disruptively through your cocktail party – don’t give it the attention it wants, and it will sit down and listen or wander away.  She helped me realize that the interior chapel is a place apart from the chattering mind, and one big enough for both my quiet focus on God and the annoying prattle and fuss of a brain on overdrive.

          I tend to lose this awareness – to become ‘flattened’ – as I go about my daily life, but  her explanation of three interior faculties helps me to keep hold of the three-dimensional nature of this ‘prayer chamber’ – able to retreat into the presence of God throughout even the busiest day.  She describes the ‘soul’ as the innermost core of our being, which can feel deeply quiet and delighted even when the outer layers are in turmoil. The intellect is the most superficial faculty.  The will is the go-between, which can love and turn toward the Trinity at the center and attend to the Presence undistracted by the wanderings of the mind. 

          Seen in this way, the movement of the soul, described by St. Teresa, from the early beginnings of prayer in mental attention to vocal prayers, to the prayer of recollection – simple attention to the Presence of God with, perhaps, the assistance of a visual image, to meditative prayer – chewing mentally on spiritual reading material with the help of the Spirit, to the prayer of quietude in which the will takes in the sweetness of God’s interior gifts as a baby sucks to receive mother’s milk, can be better understood.  Too often, she says, we contest with the distractions of the mind to make God the object of its attention, instead of turning our face by an act of free will toward God and waiting expectantly for Him to come and give us an understanding that goes beyond the faculty of intellectual apprehension.  St. Teresa speaks of this as a suffocation of the fire by putting on too much wood. 

            The Church, in its communal prayers has words through which even beginners-at-prayer may enter the Presence of God just by becoming mentally present to the words recited in the liturgy, the Divine Office, the rosary, etc…. These prayers, when I really attend to them as she suggests, make me feel as though I am stepping out into the sunlight to enjoy God’s presence with everyone I love.  To enter through an inner door into the same Presence, St. Teresa suggests we simply to imagine the face of Christ and direct our attention toward Him many, many times a day until this movement is effected easily.  My will directs my attention toward Him, no matter what distractions are raised by the errant intellect, and every time I do it, that faculty of choice is strengthened so that the turning-toward-Him is more and more natural with practice.  I’ve noticed that it also atrophies, like an unused muscle, when I neglect that practice!

          Pretty soon, we begin to want to invite Him to stay, to talk.  At this point, go ahead and light a small fire – take in a portion of spiritual reading and the intellect will be attracted to the task of understanding it.  Discuss it with your Holy Guest, sit close enough to feel the warmth, put on another log as conversation flags, just beware of smothering the flames with too much wood.  Attending both to the soul’s delight and the need to translate the reality of the Presence into action, you will make resolutions to effect outward transformation of your life.  As these are carried out, your will is strengthened to attend to the Trinity and to obey.  As this cozy scenario is repeated, day after day, the space grows lofty and the fire radiates light and heat outward to transform every aspect of your being.  He is more and more keeping it lit whether you are consciously praying or not, because your hospitality has made a place for Him to remain, to dwell, to expand within you. 

The mind, will, and soul (or ‘heart’ as I think of this innermost dimension) will gently grow into greater accord, or integration.  Until St. Teresa taught me to understand my interior faculties this way, I spent more time thinking about God than conversing with Him.  To live ‘in my head’ – over-dependent on learning and understanding with the intellect – was the habit of a lifetime for me, and one not quickly broken.  Gradually I learned to depend less and less on the reading material, and my heart itself – that inner sanctum – grew more hospitable and undefended against God, pain, correction, love.   As St. Teresa says, “A few little straws laid down with humility…are …of more use for kindling the fire, than any amount of wood…”  The important thing, she says, “is not to think much, but to love much”.  Ultimately, love itself – exteriorized in communal, vocal prayer and action; interiorized as attention to God in meditation, conversation, and spiritual communion – will enflame the soul that seeks to be perfected.

 

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