Last week my column came together only after I consulted two friends about how to craft a solid ending, which was eluding me. The suggestions from both came together in a suitable conclusion, but later each of them followed up with additional comments that led to more contemplation.
First came a recommendation to read “Wisdom Story Examen,” by Vinita Hampton Wright, available at https://tinyurl.com/ybv9eut6 .
The friend who suggested this article said she doesn’t do the examen regularly, but when she does, she’s found it a good way to see things she missed otherwise in a situation.
For those unfamiliar with the examen, it’s an Ignatian technique in which you prayerfully reflect on events. The article mentioned above suggests using this technique while asking the Holy Spirit “to help you discover a wisdom story in your own life.”
This was appropriate because in my previous column I spoke of how I feel I’m still walking with the disciples on the road to Emmaus rather than at the table, recognizing Jesus in the breaking of the bread. My friend said that perhaps the reason I feel God isn’t speaking to me is because I expect to see him in the same way as St. Teresa of Avila or St. Hildegard of Bingen did, rather than in a way unique to me, such as through my writing, or through friends.
I definitely find God through my friends, as this conversation reminded me. I have yet to sit in the examen and ask the Holy Spirit to reveal a wisdom story, but I suspect that, too, will be a fruitful spiritual experience.
The other friend responded to my original column with two quotes from Anselm of Canterbury, both of which are applicable to me in different ways. One of these quotes is “God often works more by the life of the illiterate seeking the things that are God’s, than by the ability of the learned seeking the things that are their own.”
Ah, yes, seeking things of my own (or the world’s) rather than looking for the things of God – I’m guilty of this, which is probably one reason that God isn’t working through my life as much as I say I would like him to. A priest once told me that “may my will be done” isn’t a proper prayer, and although I don’t say it in so many words, I often imply it when I make my supplication.
The other quote from St. Anselm that my friend sent is “I do not try, Lord, to attain your lofty heights, because my understanding is in no way equal to it. But I do desire to understand your truth a little, that truth that my heart believes and loves. I do not seek to understand that I may believe; but I believe so that I may understand. For I believe this also, that unless I believe, I shall not understand.”
In my studies, I’d come across part of that quote – “I do not seek to understand that I may believe; but I believe that I may understand” – but I’d never read the whole paragraph, which I think allows for a fuller grasp of the meaning. Anselm is asking not for understanding in general but of something specific: of God’s truth.
The concept of truth is discussed by Pope Benedict XVI in Part Two of his “Jesus of Nazareth” series. Focusing on the trial of Jesus before Pilate, in which the Roman governor asks, “What is truth?”, Benedict answers with a formula from St. Thomas Aquinas: God is “truth itself, the sovereign and first truth.”
So, to get back to St. Anselm, by seeking truth, we are seeking God. And it is thanks to my friends that I have come to understand a little more of this truth.
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