26 March 2020

Anxiety and fear – 27 March 2020


Our Warkworth Christian Meditation Group is not meeting at present, of course, because of the Lockdown.  The weekly talks are being sent to members by email, as well as being posted on this site one day ahead.



Anxiety comes from a Latin word meaning to choke.  And indeed there seem to be various morbid forms of anxiety characterised by unpleasant physical and other effects.  For most of us anxiety is an old friend – anyone who has ever sat exams knows it quite well… or sat with a sick child.  It worries us that we may not be able to cope.  And when anxiety is triggered, as it usually is, by something new, unexpected, menacing… like this virus… it is scarcely helped by the constant warning not to panic.  May I add that neither is it helped by people with a Christian label claiming that God is bringing this upon us and we deserve it.  I don’t know that God.


Anxiety is different from fear.  Fear is more specific and focussed.  The Greek phobos (φοβος) – which gives us phobia for instance, originally meant flight from someone or something… avoidance of what may frighten us… spiders, contradiction, failure, uncertainty, facing the future… Emmet’s fear of Hyacinth Bucket.  I think the distinctive feature of fear is that it is so debilitating.  It can dominate, even paralyse life.  People default then to self-protection, making walls and divisions, categorising and indulging in paranoia, suspicion or hatred.  The opposite of fear is love – Love casts out fear, writes John[1].  Why are you afraid, Jesus constantly asks[2].


If you consult the web on these topics of anxiety and fear – which, I can assure you, is something you should try only if you are self-isolating for six months – you will find multiple theories and remedies, and all manner of experts.  Now, contemplative people generally don’t like risking the impression that we are better, or have magic solutions.  We are not and we don’t.  However, it is unmistakeable, I think, that people with a discipline of stillness, who practise meditation, seem to be laying aside fear.  We can still be anxious, of course, and we are at present.  In terms of Christian Meditation, we are at least in the process of keeping the ego -- which is always frightened for itself -- where it belongs, which is not usurping the place of God.  We are coming to terms with mortality, our mortality.  We are growing up in faith, and we do not imagine that we live in some charmed circle of believers who are safe.  I was impressed by the quote from the Buddhist Thich Nhat Hanh, which someone posted on the web:  You can’t calm the storm, so stop trying.  What you can do is calm yourself.  The storm will pass.


We calm ourselves in stillness and silence, leaving our issues to one side for now, and being fully present to God who is fully present to us, in the Risen Christ, and in the wind of the Spirit of Christ.  It changes us.  Jesus calmed the storm on the lake, in the meaningful gospel story, and then mischievously asked the disciples, Why were you frightened?  He is the bringer of peace, shalom, to our hearts, and from there to our surroundings.



[1] I John 4:18
[2] eg. Matthew 14:27; 17:7; 28:10…etc.

13 March 2020

The virus of perfectionism – 13 March 2020


I know someone who is a perfectionist.  It means in practice that every task seems to take twice as long, and then at the unveiling it’s never quite right, although it looks fine to me.  A beautiful stairway, which entailed much mathematics, is nevertheless half a centimetre out.  But it’s his way and it comforts him to seek perfection.  In the realm of spirituality, on the other hand… including the practice of contemplative prayer… perfectionism is not a smart idea… not least because perfection is unattainable and we have difficulty knowing what it is anyway, it’s usually unnecessary, and expecting it is to squander spiritual energy.  So Fr Laurence Freeman writes about the virus of perfectionism… meditators for instance worrying about whether they’re doing it right.  We need only to point out the obvious, the central problem with perfectionism, that it’s the ego speaking.. “I want to do it right”.   Seeking perfection is likely to be about me, what I expect, what I hope other people see, but also (with some) what I assume God demands of us – Be perfect, Jesus is reported as saying in the Sermon on the Mount[1].  So people make a virtue out of correctness.   Of course there are many situations in which accuracy is essential, and it is proper to pursue it, improper not to.  But, as wisdom seems to find, this may be best done by people who know in advance their own flaws and fallibility.


One confessed perfectionist is Fr Richard Rohr… who is a Number One on the Enneagram.   Fr Richard writes, inter alia:  The search for perfection is the specific temptation of Ones, and it rules their lives.  Ones are always frustrated because life and people are not what they should be.  Ones are conscious of duty and responsibility… there’s always something or other that could be improved.  Above all, Ones are disappointed by their own imperfection. 


Prayer however is reborn in us when we see how we come to prayer never as experts, always frail and fallible, empty-handed, never in talent or accomplishment, or status.  Meditators know therefore that this is a time, brief enough heaven knows, in which, with great relief and our fears set aside, we can be deeply truthful and fully present.    


And so there is the gift of stillness and silence.  We have stopped talking, and stopped rushing around.  We have stopped measuring, calculating, estimating, predicting.  So far as we can, we have stopped asking, imagining, remembering, regretting, planning, visualising… so far as we can, which as we well know is often not very far… we return to the bare simplicity of the mantra, repeating, waiting, resting, listening, having no other agenda.  We have mercifully laid aside perfectionism, as inappropriate, surplus to requirements.  God sees our hearts, and the love and the yearning there.   I don’t have to be perfect, I have to be present.  I don’t have to dress up or pretend or impress God in any way, as though there’s something good about me God didn’t notice before.  I track down the Yes which is found waiting at my deepest levels, and that in its simplicity is my prayer.



[1] Matthew 5:48.  τελειος (teleios) means fit for purpose, not totally unflawed.

06 March 2020

Darkness and Light…4 – 6 March 2020


This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in God there is no darkness at all. (I John 1:5)


This is the message we have heard from him… that is to say, from Jesus.  John is recalling his church, perhaps at Ephesus, to first principles, to the basics.  Lay aside what you may have learned in earlier impressionable times about God – these things are not sacrosanct -- or what you may have derived from the ways people talk.  In grown-up faith and practice we are humble and teachable about faith, and we are open to change, the more so as the years go by.  We are learning to discern truth, which may be very different from “what we always believed”, or “what I always thought”...  It is Jesus, the teacher within, (St Paul calls him the icon of the invisible God)[1] who says, God is light, and in God there is no darkness at all.  

It is Jesus who teaches and shows what the Jewish scriptures at their best were always straining to say, that God is the author of love and mercy, creativity and invention, today and tomorrow, oldness and newness, repentance and forgiveness, healing and restoration, truth and justice…   God is not the author or promotor of fear and hatred, suspicion and superstition, division and prejudice, power and superiority or violence against others or against the environment… God does not punish; God does not take our side against others.  So there is much popular “faith”, so called, which belongs more properly to the realm of darkness.  God is light and in God there is no darkness at all.


And here, it may be, is the resolution of our dilemma… simply that we are not living in heaven where all is light.  The seer in the Book of Revelation sings about the heavenly Jerusalem:  And there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light[2]  But we are living here.  Darkness remains a familiar friend...  or at any rate, the twilights of doubt, compromise, impasse, to say nothing of loss and sorrow.  We do need… and we continue to need… to know how to see in the dark we encounter.  This night vision is called discernment, even if sometimes in our lives it may seem slighter than lighting a candle.  The signs of discernment may well start with something as prosaic as our refusal to be drawn into the politics of strife, or power, or the familiar manifestations of confusion, prejudice, hate and fear.  We find we are preferring the light.  In Benedict’s luminous phrase, we prefer nothing whatever to Christ.[3]


So there are two imperatives for grown-up faith.  One is that we learn how to see in the dark, how to be still and listen, how (in the biblical phrase) to let our words be few, how to see what we may miss in our busyness and noise, how to discern, and perhaps even at times to be wise.  The other is always remembering, learning, loving and following the way of Jesus, whom to follow is not to walk in darkness… the Risen Jesus, “sight unseen”, whom his earliest followers understood would be with them to the end of the world.



[1] Colossians 1:15… “Image” in Greek is eikōnוκων)
[2] Revelation 22:5
[3] Rule of St Benedict, 72:11 – Christo omnino nihil praeponant