Contemplation and Combat

When I arrived in the inner city for ministry, it was common to recommend contemplative spirituality, the cultivation of silence, as a spiritual discipline. Digging into the works of Thomas Merton and Henri Nouwen, would offer greater deeper resources for dealing with the stresses of urban mission. So, I built a practice, in my 20s and 30s, of regular retreats, and personal meditation. 

 But contemplative prayer also means facing the darkness. Paul Tillich wrote that we have to integrate non-being within ourselves. The Early Fathers said the sweetness of contemplative prayer early on, later gave way to darkness and aridity. As if God were luring us on with trickery. In the desert monks would wrestle with demons. Ken Leech politicised and psychologised this to include confrontation with the powers of evil in racism, capitalism and imperialism, thus giving contemplation a political edge. 

Often Christian meditation acquires a New Age frisson, as people imagine it to be about ‘’chilling out’. I remember some church members surprised when I explained that in one retreat I expected to confront demons. And in fact I did. I had always planned to do the Ignatian Thirty Day Silent Retreat. And they insisted doing six days to prepare. But on that retreat, I entered into the deepest depression in my life, suddenly in darkness and despair. The Retreat Director didn’t know what to do. My own Spiritual Director afterwards said to me two things, which kept me away from contemplative prayer since then: “Steve, you are not a contemplative” and “You and Jesus alone together, it’s not a good idea”. 

It’s counter-intuitive, not what you’d expect Christian spirituality to be: doesn’t it involve a personal relationship with Jesus? I did a Myers-Briggs Spirituality test though, which indicated that I’d benefit from icons and incense – not my tradition! But I interpreted that to mean I needed something external, in my case worship music and pentecostalism. John Colwell, a brilliant theologian, who was also bi-polar, found refuge in the objectivity of the sacraments, because they were there, even when he was not.

I shared this with a friend, also a Spiritual Director, who was troubled by my situation. They asked their supervisor, who recommended the practice of thanksgiving – again going outward, into the external. My own Spiritual Director (a bit New Age!), said contemplation was not limited to the singular act of prayer itself. Instead, I should note where I had found the “energy” during the day, and intepret that as the Holy Spirit acting in my life, and give thanks. Also, prescribed was dancing, while I sang the Psalms out loud (which I did with a hip-hop backing on my phone, when everyone was out of the house, needless to say!). Anything, to get me out of my skull, and into action.  

This is part of the fight for sanity in my spirituality. For me, prayer and contemplation are about encountering the darkness. Going down deep. I do not receive comfort from God, but truth and reality.