Rescuing the Contemplative Life from Sentimentality

The rise of secularism is by now the dominant form of life in our post-christendom society. This development has been hailed as a disaster by some and a great victory by others. One of the hallmarks of our secular age is its disenchanted character - the cosmos is no longer apprehended as obviously shot through with divine presence. In other words, a cup is just a cup.

The loss of access to a transcendental beyond continues to be mourned and resisted even by the non-religious. In reaction, our culture has become obsessed with recovering and appropriating oriental and arcane practices that offer the promise of some sort of connection with the transcendent beyond that culminates in a consumerist orgy of self-denial about the starker realities of modern life.

While much could be said about the forces of consumer capitalism and atomizing neo-liberalism that have created the broad appeal of such practices in popular culture, my interest is primarily in the recovery of Christian contemplative practices in popular piety that has accompanied this broader social phenomenon.

The contemplative tradition is rich and deep and dates back to the earliest years of the church. While I'm no expert on it, I've noticed a troubling trend in its modern appropriation that should be addressed. Contemplative practice is characterized by silence. It is a kenotic release of attempts to apprehend the divine and is a surrender to the possibility of being apprehended by God's in the economic procession and return of the divine persons. Contemplative practices include silent meditation, centering prayer, breath prayer, divine reading, self-examination, etc. There is an emphasis on quieting the mind, surrendering our cares and worries to Christ and resting in the love of God.

And this is where the description of the contemplative life often ends - particularly in the endless popular books and pamphlets that are distributed at the back of churches, through popular blogs and podcasts, and at "spiritual" retreats. It's an attractive form of spirituality to be sure. Contemplative practice, so imagined, is gentle, reassuring, beautiful, and resonates with much of the minimalist-self-care aesthetic of the Instagram classes. In this version, contemplative practice becomes a sanctuary for those who need to rest or recover from the frenetic pace of consumer culture. At its best, it may even inspire a more mindful approach to consumption that ensures that each item left in the aftermath of a Marie Kondo purge is embued with spiritual meaning and significance.

As attractive a vision as this practice may present, it strikes me as horrifyingly deficient when held up against the overwhelming injustice and evil of our world. Entering into the silence of God in the aftermath of a friend's suicide is not a "comforting" experience of divine love - it is the excruciating word given to St. Silouan, "keep thy mind in hell and despair not." 

The desert fathers and mothers learned long ago that a life of contemplation of the divine mysteries is an experience of excruciating pain made possible only by hope. St. Antony, we are told, was set upon often by demons, beaten and bloodied - stretched to the utmost limits of his physical powers. Another of the sayings of the desert fathers was prompted by a young brother asking an elder, "what should I do?" to which the old man responded, "we ought always to weep."

The contemplative life is not an invitation into a comforting designer spirituality that provides an end-run around doing theology. The contemplative life is an invitation into an ongoing meditation on the terrifying love of God. Let's rescue it from its unholy with pop-psychology and the banal tastes of a consumerist society and offer up a renewed focus on a tradition that can plumb the depths of of human love, pain, betrayal, grief, anguish and joy and find those experiences transformed by the One who has taken on every bit of our condition and brought it into the inner life of God.