O chrześcijańskiej medytacji

Wilfrid Stinissen

What is characteristic of it?

First of all, it must have a religious character, as its center is Christ. In Christian meditation, we try in one way or another to draw closer to God. Thus, a synonym for the word meditation could be inner or silent prayer. For a Christian, meditation is part of a great adventure of love. He invests his whole life into it. After all, it concerns our relationship with the “living God” (Acts 14:15) and with the “Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16), a relationship that consists of action and reaction, calling and response. Nothing is as alive as Christian prayer, precisely because it is a symbol of openness to life itself (John 14:6). The fact that Christian meditation is life itself also means that there is an inner connection between meditation and action. Meditation influences our activity, and our activity influences meditation.

Whoever does not try to align his life with the message of love in the Gospel cannot expect to get far in meditation. Just as the ethics of the Gospel does not work without mysticism, so mysticism does not work without ethics. In Christianity, meditation is not the final stage. To meditate does not mean blissfully to drown in the ocean of God's love. To meditate is to open oneself to the Holy Spirit and to let oneself be filled by it; to meditate is to expose oneself to the influence of God himself and to be driven to action. Whoever meditates experiences God's power already now, yet painfully becomes aware that God's kingdom is still very far away. Who has known peace finds the war in the world unbearable. Whoever is aware in his spirit that the whole world was created for unity cannot do otherwise than take a stand against the fragmentation of the world and the confusion of humanity. The experience of God gives a deeper insight into the state in which the world finds itself and the will to become a component of the force that can lead the world towards God's kingdom.

If meditation becomes merely an immersion into the absolute – and God is absolute – it can become purposeless and passive. However, if we perceive God at the same time as self-giving love and identify with this love during meditation, then the will to work, to act, to actively contribute flows into us – away from passivity and selfishness. Thus, the participant in Christian meditation has an interest in drawing closer to God. This interest is not merely passive, but boldly active, because we believe that God cares for man. In the Bible, we read about a man who seeks God, but even more about God who seeks man. Therefore, we can characterize man's attitude towards God as a response to God's calling. In meditation, not only the spirit but also the body plays an important role. The times when the body was considered an unworthy, sinful temporary aspect of the soul are long gone. Influenced by philosophy, theology eventually found its way back to the original view of the Bible and Christianity on man as a whole. God accepted human nature, including the bodily form of man.

Jesus had a real body, and not merely an apparent one; he was a man of flesh and blood, a man who was born, lived, and died like other people. The ideal of the Christian person is not to be an angel, but to be what Jesus was: true God and true man.

Unlike animals, man stands upright: Homo erectus. He connects heaven and earth. He is attached to the earth because he walks on it and stands on it. Yet he also aims for heaven and turns to God. Man's task is to maintain balance throughout his life between these two forces, heaven and earth. A task that is paradoxical: man stands stretched between heaven and earth and must feel at home between these two poles. Therefore, during meditation, the awareness of one's own body is very important. Whether we want it or not, our body is present when we meditate and helps us achieve internal stillness. One can speak here of the spiritual and bodily aspect of one and the same activity. When we jointly make an offering to God, we stand. If we want to humble ourselves and penitently acknowledge our guilt, we fall to our knees, thereby making ourselves as small as possible before God. However, if we wish to engage in meditation, which is a pause amidst the daily hustle and bustle, we do so while sitting. When we sit for meditation, we must do so motionless and in a quiet environment. Outer and inner peace belong together. It is not by chance that even Teresa of Avila calls the first stage on the path of mysticism “the prayer of peace”; in this prayer, we find peace, both outer and inner.

A common question is how long and when we should meditate. A minimum duration is considered to be twenty minutes. In a period shorter than twenty minutes, we generally cannot reach deep inner peace. Centuries of experience – not just monastic – indicate that it is best for a person to respect their natural rhythm and wake up early in the morning (assuming we did not go to bed too late in the evening). Starting the day with a moment of prayer is also an old monastic wisdom. Work will go better for us, and we will have a better attitude towards it if we have devoted ourselves to meditation before starting it. And perhaps there will come a time when we realize that our need for meditation is so great that we can make time for it not only in the morning but also in the evening. Ideally, we should also find a small corner where we retreat only for prayer and meditation. Let us hang an icon or a cross there on which we can rest our gaze during meditation.

Before starting meditation, it is important not only to adopt the correct posture of the body but also to breathe calmly and release all internal and external tension. Only then can we properly open ourselves to God and surrender to Him. In the Carmelite order, the most important rule is “sequi flantem Spiritum Sanctum” (submitting to the guidance of the Holy Spirit), for it is the Holy Spirit himself who ultimately decides how we should meditate.

Several Meditations

“Into your hands I commit my spirit.”

“Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ And when he had said this, he breathed his last” (Luke 23:46).

For centuries, the Church has used these words in evening prayer, knowing that every evening we have the opportunity to experience a small death. To fall asleep means to put everything aside, to radically detach from our work and our plans, even to give up our consciousness. Consciously dying to life and trusting oneself to Love.

“The youngest son of Rabbi Sussja said: ‘The righteous must again and again cast off their own life so that they can receive a new spirit and that a new light can illuminate them again and again. This is the mystery of sleep’” (Martin Buber: The Stories of the Hasidim).

Sleep and death are close relatives. Of a man who has died, we say that he has passed away, and concerning Jairo's deceased daughter, Jesus says that she is asleep (Mark 5:39). Our nightly small death is a preparation for the great death. If you entrust your life every evening with confidence into the hands of the heavenly Father, it will not be difficult for you to depart when the time comes to “go to the Father” (John 14:12).

In your evening meditation, you will learn to fall asleep and die. While you breathe, you constantly repeat: “Into your hands I commit my spirit.” Or you can divide the sentence into inhalation (“into your hands”) and exhalation (“I commit my spirit”). In this way, you become increasingly aware of the beauty of the night: “Oh night, says God, oh night, my daughter … you honor me in sleep much more than your brother day honors me in his work. For in his work, man honors me only through his work. But in sleep, I am honored by the fact that man surrenders to me” (Charles Péguy: The Portal to the Mystery of Hope).

Counting His Names

You have taken your meditative position and are breathing calmly. Not too deeply: everything that resembles violence disrupts true life. You exhale and inhale, doing so completely consciously. After a while, you begin to count your breaths. When you inhale, you think of the number one, and with each exhale, you let it sink deep into your being, down to the area of your navel. There you hold it during the pause between inhalation and exhalation. Then you inhale again and think of the number two. You continue until you reach ten.

After the first series, you start again and count to ten once more. Then perhaps another series will follow. If you wish, you can use a rosary to help you. Not for the sake of increasing performance for your own gratification but because this small activity of sliding your fingers over the beads can prevent you from succumbing to daydreaming. You can hardly avoid being disturbed by inappropriate thoughts and curiosity about how far you have progressed in counting. Do not worry about it and continue counting. What matters is that you are aware of your breathing the whole time. Finally, instead of counting numbers, repeat the words “Jesus” or “Father.” With each breath, you anchor yourself deeper and deeper in Him. You already knew that the umbilical cord that connects you to Him has never been cut. Now, however, it has become a living reality from mere consciousness. You become again a child who, just like the Son, may rest in the Father's embrace (John 1:18). You observe how your arms unfold from within you, reaching out and straightening towards Him. When you finish your meditation, you will be aware that the Father will always be with you and that you are a tiny person who has been allowed to bask for a moment in God's light and is now reborn.

Open Hands

According to an old definition, man is “ratio et manus” (reason and hands). With his reason, a man plans, and with his hands, he brings to life what he has planned. Your hands are a flexible tool designed to serve the world and also to serve God. The appearance of your hands reveals how you serve the world. Are they hard hands of a worker, or gentle, sensitive hands of a surgeon? Your hands are also meant to serve God. In your hands, you present yourself to God so that He can realize His work in you. “I always carry my soul on the palm of my hand” (Psalm 119:109).

Place your hands on one another, palms up, fingers facing the opposite side, the back of your left hand resting on the palm of your right hand. The thumbs of both hands touch. Let your hands rest on your knees. In this way, you express what you want to be before God: a chalice wide open, into which God can pour His love. Empty hands are always free hands, ready to receive. When you open your hands in prayer, you express your inner attitude: I do not wish to initiate anything or change anything; I am fully at your disposal, Lord! You stand before God with empty hands and allow Him to fill this chalice. John of the Cross speaks of the “almost limitless capacity” of the soul. Your open hands are a symbol of your inner longing for God: Come, God, come! You do not need to reassure God over and over how accessible you want to be to Him. The only thing you need to focus on is your open hands. Experience them full! You cannot help but feel the tingling of life in every muscle, in every joint of your fingers. The openness of your hands should penetrate your entire being.

He has opened your clenched fists and made them a chalice into which He pours His grace.

Stream of Peace

“Behold, I want to send peace upon Jerusalem, peace like a river” (Isaiah 66:12). Our God is a God of peace (1 Corinthians 14:33). He pours His peace upon you, not only on your soul but also on your body. His peace is like “precious oil on the head, which flows down onto the beard … over the edge of the robe” (Psalm 133:2). Feel how this sacred oil slowly, slowly trickles down your head, over your shoulders and arms, down to your chest and abdomen, down your legs to your feet. Do not let God's balm miss any part of your body. Feel how, the more your body comes into contact with God's peace, the more it releases tension. The body has already surrendered its resistance. Everything that was knotted is opening up; what was hard is softening. You feel that peace gradually permeates your relaxed body and enters your innermost being. God pours balm into your body and your soul – balm that cools, cleanses, and comforts.

Then you let God's peace flow through your entire being once more, and perhaps again. As long as it takes until you can say: “I have calmed and quieted my soul; like a weaned child rests in the arms of its mother … such is my soul within me” (Psalm 131:2). God has poured something of His eternal peace into you.

Without a doubt, thoughts and worries will intrude. The work you set aside knocks on the door of your memory and imagination. Do not try to forcefully dismiss the thoughts, but resist any discussion with them. Instead, immerse yourself again in God's peace. Perhaps it will help if after each such disturbance you quietly repeat: “Return to your peace, my soul, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you” (Psalm 116:7).

Frequent cleansing baths in God's peace! Without fear that this is mere escape from reality. On the contrary, you will penetrate deeper into true reality, and it will be easier for you to distinguish truth from falsehood, essence from marginal things.

“The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7).

(Sample from the Book on Christian Meditation,
translated by prof. Dagmar Chvojková)