The Charismatic and The Contemplative
"A Charismatic and a Contemplative were walking down the road...……"
So how was I now to pray?
I had been profoundly influenced in my late teenage years by a group of Evangelical Charismatics. From them I had learnt the art of relaxed, conversational, extemporary prayer, and having been 'baptised in the Holy Spirit' I also sometimes prayed in tongues. But this had now all ended. I had 'walked away' from this style of Christianity - and thus from this approach to prayer - having been disturbed by what I saw as its dangerous excesses, including a rather glib and irresponsible - even abusive - approach to healing, an obsessive and disabling interest in evil and 'spiritual warfare' and a very intolerant fundamentalist theology.
In hindsight I realise that these bad experiences (which I know are far from unique) stemmed from poor and misguided leadership in the particular groups with which I was involved, but I guess the instinctive auto-response of 'once bitten, twice shy' had kicked in, and all Charismatic Christians were now tarred with the same brush.
So I urgently needed a new way of praying.
My local Parish Church came to the rescue. The Curate had just set up a Contemplative Prayer Group that met monthly. It adopted the principles of the Fellowship of Contemplative Prayer, using a verse of scripture (often a prophetic promise or some words of Jesus) as a focus or 'mantra'. As we sat in silence, this verse was mentally repeated over and over again (much like the Jesus Prayer of Eastern Orthodoxy), the repetition being synchronised to our breathing. Eventually, as we all repeated the exercise daily at home, the words were subconsciously absorbed, becoming part of us. It was for me a new experience of the 'living word' - liberating scripture from the printed page, enabling me to truly 'dwell in' the word, and providing a helpful mechanism for stilling the mind, attending to God, and using silence productively.
This technique soon became one of the central planks on which my spirituality was built. A few years later, when I was looking for a theological college at which to undertake ordination training, one of my criteria was that it must have a strong discipline of prayer built around the daily offices, with a requirement that at least half an hour a day should be spent in silent prayer and contemplation. Decades later, this discipline remains central to my prayer life and provides the scaffold around which each day's ministry is built.
Now, however - nearly forty years after that initial rejection of all things Charismatic - following a powerful 'epiphany' - I have returned to the Charismatic fold. In doing so, I have realised that the serious flaws that I experienced all those years ago - whilst remaining 'red lines' in my own spirituality - do not run like fault-lines through the entire movement, especially where Charismatic spontaneity and freedom is tempered by Catholic order and sacramentalism and a more critical and inclusive reading of scripture.
One concern that I do have, however, is that Charismatic worship, with all its enthusiasm, exuberance and noisiness (all of which is fine in itself) may not always allow sufficient space for silence and reflection. We know that the Holy Spirit manifests as both the mighty rushing wind and the gentle breath. For the Charismatic, there is a danger that in focussing so much on the former, the latter is forgotten, and that in constantly looking for what the Holy Spirit is doing, we forget that this same spirit simply 'hovered' over the waters at the beginning of creation (c.f. Genesis 1:2b).
In one of the most well-known and well-loved passages of scripture, Elijah stands upon the mountain, waiting for the Lord to pass by:
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. (1 Kings:1911-13a NIV)
The events of Pentecost leave Charismatics with an expectation that God the Holy Spirit will pass among us in wind and fire - and so he does; but we forget at our peril that he also often comes to us in the gentle whisper that can so easily be lost amidst the cacophony of our own lives.
I love the overt joy of Charismatic worship, especially when it's in the context of the Mass, but I have to confess that there are times when after the fire has passed, I wish we would wait for that gentle whisper. I recently attended Mass in a church with a Charismatic Catholic tradition. The music (of which there was a great deal) was uplifting and well-led, the liturgy was well executed, the congregation delightfully welcoming and friendly; but it was all very busy, very wordy and very noisy, to the point of feeling almost slightly oppressive and claustrophobic. Here was wind and fire for sure, but how I longed for just a few moments to listen for the gentle whisper.
I believe that true openness to the Holy Spirit requires a readiness to be still and a willingness to allow the Holy Spirit to 'hover' as he has from the very beginning. Of course, some Charismatic worship includes a period of stillness in which we 'wait' on the Holy Spirit; but there is usually an expectation that in the silence God will give a prophecy or a 'word of knowledge' or an image to share. The expectation is that God will speak, and the silence is usually quickly punctuated by words. There's nothing wrong with this, and it quite rightly has its place - and an important place - in worship; but I am suggesting that there needs to be a place too in which we are content to listen to and hear the silence, and to dwell in it.
The traditional Catholic rite of Benediction provides a wonderful opportunity to do this. As Christ - present in the most holy sacrament of the altar - is enthroned before us, it is as if the action of the Mass has been frozen at the elevation of the host. That brief moment of adoration is extended, and whilst seeing the Lord high and lifted up in our midst rightly triggers praise and rejoicing, it also stuns us into a sense of speechless wonder.
I don't believe that Charismatic spirituality and Contemplative spirituality are in any way mutually exclusive; rather I believe they are totally complementary, and that one 'completes' the other. I hope, therefore, that Charismatic Catholics in particular will always create the space for God's gentle whisper, whether it's within the context of the Mass, in Benediction or in some other act of worship.
When I rejected Evangelical Charismatic spirituality all those years ago, I never really left it all behind. I realise now that throughout my adult life, even when I firmly defined myself as a card-carrying Anglo-Catholic, I retained an evangelical sense of having a personal relationship with Christ, and a 'Charismatic' sense of God's presence with me in the person of the Holy Spirit. I always believed that all worship was a powerful and transformative encounter with the living God. Now, just as I seek to fuse the Catholic and Charismatic strands of my spirituality, I likewise seek to fuse the Contemplative with the Charismatic.
A Charismatic and a Contemplative were walking down the road. They were the same person. And why not?
So how was I now to pray?
I had been profoundly influenced in my late teenage years by a group of Evangelical Charismatics. From them I had learnt the art of relaxed, conversational, extemporary prayer, and having been 'baptised in the Holy Spirit' I also sometimes prayed in tongues. But this had now all ended. I had 'walked away' from this style of Christianity - and thus from this approach to prayer - having been disturbed by what I saw as its dangerous excesses, including a rather glib and irresponsible - even abusive - approach to healing, an obsessive and disabling interest in evil and 'spiritual warfare' and a very intolerant fundamentalist theology.
In hindsight I realise that these bad experiences (which I know are far from unique) stemmed from poor and misguided leadership in the particular groups with which I was involved, but I guess the instinctive auto-response of 'once bitten, twice shy' had kicked in, and all Charismatic Christians were now tarred with the same brush.
So I urgently needed a new way of praying.
My local Parish Church came to the rescue. The Curate had just set up a Contemplative Prayer Group that met monthly. It adopted the principles of the Fellowship of Contemplative Prayer, using a verse of scripture (often a prophetic promise or some words of Jesus) as a focus or 'mantra'. As we sat in silence, this verse was mentally repeated over and over again (much like the Jesus Prayer of Eastern Orthodoxy), the repetition being synchronised to our breathing. Eventually, as we all repeated the exercise daily at home, the words were subconsciously absorbed, becoming part of us. It was for me a new experience of the 'living word' - liberating scripture from the printed page, enabling me to truly 'dwell in' the word, and providing a helpful mechanism for stilling the mind, attending to God, and using silence productively.
This technique soon became one of the central planks on which my spirituality was built. A few years later, when I was looking for a theological college at which to undertake ordination training, one of my criteria was that it must have a strong discipline of prayer built around the daily offices, with a requirement that at least half an hour a day should be spent in silent prayer and contemplation. Decades later, this discipline remains central to my prayer life and provides the scaffold around which each day's ministry is built.
Now, however - nearly forty years after that initial rejection of all things Charismatic - following a powerful 'epiphany' - I have returned to the Charismatic fold. In doing so, I have realised that the serious flaws that I experienced all those years ago - whilst remaining 'red lines' in my own spirituality - do not run like fault-lines through the entire movement, especially where Charismatic spontaneity and freedom is tempered by Catholic order and sacramentalism and a more critical and inclusive reading of scripture.
One concern that I do have, however, is that Charismatic worship, with all its enthusiasm, exuberance and noisiness (all of which is fine in itself) may not always allow sufficient space for silence and reflection. We know that the Holy Spirit manifests as both the mighty rushing wind and the gentle breath. For the Charismatic, there is a danger that in focussing so much on the former, the latter is forgotten, and that in constantly looking for what the Holy Spirit is doing, we forget that this same spirit simply 'hovered' over the waters at the beginning of creation (c.f. Genesis 1:2b).
In one of the most well-known and well-loved passages of scripture, Elijah stands upon the mountain, waiting for the Lord to pass by:
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. (1 Kings:1911-13a NIV)
The events of Pentecost leave Charismatics with an expectation that God the Holy Spirit will pass among us in wind and fire - and so he does; but we forget at our peril that he also often comes to us in the gentle whisper that can so easily be lost amidst the cacophony of our own lives.
I love the overt joy of Charismatic worship, especially when it's in the context of the Mass, but I have to confess that there are times when after the fire has passed, I wish we would wait for that gentle whisper. I recently attended Mass in a church with a Charismatic Catholic tradition. The music (of which there was a great deal) was uplifting and well-led, the liturgy was well executed, the congregation delightfully welcoming and friendly; but it was all very busy, very wordy and very noisy, to the point of feeling almost slightly oppressive and claustrophobic. Here was wind and fire for sure, but how I longed for just a few moments to listen for the gentle whisper.
I believe that true openness to the Holy Spirit requires a readiness to be still and a willingness to allow the Holy Spirit to 'hover' as he has from the very beginning. Of course, some Charismatic worship includes a period of stillness in which we 'wait' on the Holy Spirit; but there is usually an expectation that in the silence God will give a prophecy or a 'word of knowledge' or an image to share. The expectation is that God will speak, and the silence is usually quickly punctuated by words. There's nothing wrong with this, and it quite rightly has its place - and an important place - in worship; but I am suggesting that there needs to be a place too in which we are content to listen to and hear the silence, and to dwell in it.
The traditional Catholic rite of Benediction provides a wonderful opportunity to do this. As Christ - present in the most holy sacrament of the altar - is enthroned before us, it is as if the action of the Mass has been frozen at the elevation of the host. That brief moment of adoration is extended, and whilst seeing the Lord high and lifted up in our midst rightly triggers praise and rejoicing, it also stuns us into a sense of speechless wonder.I don't believe that Charismatic spirituality and Contemplative spirituality are in any way mutually exclusive; rather I believe they are totally complementary, and that one 'completes' the other. I hope, therefore, that Charismatic Catholics in particular will always create the space for God's gentle whisper, whether it's within the context of the Mass, in Benediction or in some other act of worship.
When I rejected Evangelical Charismatic spirituality all those years ago, I never really left it all behind. I realise now that throughout my adult life, even when I firmly defined myself as a card-carrying Anglo-Catholic, I retained an evangelical sense of having a personal relationship with Christ, and a 'Charismatic' sense of God's presence with me in the person of the Holy Spirit. I always believed that all worship was a powerful and transformative encounter with the living God. Now, just as I seek to fuse the Catholic and Charismatic strands of my spirituality, I likewise seek to fuse the Contemplative with the Charismatic.
A Charismatic and a Contemplative were walking down the road. They were the same person. And why not?
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