Although our definition of saints may vary widely, All Saints Day is a time to remember those who have inspired and shaped our lives in a Jesus-direction. The news that Fr. Thomas Keating died on October 25 seemed somehow fitting. At 95, he was ready. As a Trappist monk and worldwide contemplative teacher, he was both a wise mentor and spiritual guide for many on the journey inward. Fortunately, his books will continue to be a resource for those called to centering prayer and unitive consciousness.
Fr. Keating visited Church of the Saviour several years ago, and his physical presence amplified the simplicity of his message. “Let your ego soften,” he said as we sat in a crowded room, breathing quietly. “Rest in God’s love. Notice and welcome any thoughts, images or body sensations,” he continued, “and simply let them go. Return to your sacred word, your center.”
It was somehow easier to release my clamoring thoughts in the company of others who were doing the same thing. When the evening was over, I felt released, bathed in aliveness. I had come in tight and tense after a long day capped by the hunt for scarce parking. Fr. Keating’s voice and his words invited me, once again, to drink the living water of life itself and to experience a deep sense of connection with others in that room.
In the gospel for All Saints Day,* Lazarus is raised from the dead by Jesus. It’s a rich story of love and loss, of fear and frustration, but the phrase that caught my attention this time was Jesus’ final directive to the community: “unbind him.” Although Jesus brought new life to a corpse wrapped in gravecloths, it was the community’s work to unbind him.
My experience of centering prayer in the company of others has been one of unbinding and release at a pace that allows for healing and integration. Because each person is tending to his or her own flood of images, there is no focus on trying to help one person, or rip the bandages off in a hurry. Rather, the combination of gathered intention seems to hold whatever comes up in the light of God’s love more successfully than when I do centering prayer alone.
When I do this practice alone, all manner of demons and distractions begin to surface. It’s what Fr. Keating called “unloading the unconscious.” Like Lazarus, bound and sealed in his death cave, I can easily lose touch with a sense of God’s presence. My ability to release what surfaces gets sticky. But in community, I’m more able to trust the presence of love and trust in the process of release.
In our noisy, individualistic world, there is a growing hunger for silent listening and communal prayer although many do not name it that way. One of the reasons that I was attracted to Church of the Saviour in the 1970s was its attention to the “inward journey” as a basic source (and resource) for the outward journey of service and action. We are indebted to Quaker communities and certain monastic orders for continuing their practice of gathered silence and centering prayer until those of us from other traditions recognize our need for it. I suspect the hunger for gathered silence is one reason for the popularity of Buddhist spirituality as well.
Writers like Thomas Keating, Thomas Merton, Richard Rohr, and Cynthia Borgeault now offer us a well-marked path for developing individual and corporate practices of centering prayer. That journey inward is essential for sustaining the hard work of social justice and civil discourse – so needed in our fractured world.
It only takes two or three others to hold the space, to thereby assist in unbinding the stricken parts of our lives. My prayer for this day? May you find those saints close by.
*John 11: 32-44
Reflection Questions
- When have you felt a shift from problem-solving to releasing troublesome thoughts?
- How do you typically fall asleep? Might centering prayer be helpful?
- Where do you find others with whom to practice gathered silence?
-Marjory Zoet Bankson, Seekers Church
