Last week I explored the question of why we would need to do any kind of practice, have any kind of discipline, if spirituality is simply about living our lives. The lesson of Pablo Casals' commitment to the disciplined practice of playing scales -- even after he was an acknowledged master of his instrument -- offered an answer by way of analogy. You can make sound if you pick up an instrument from time to time; you can make music if you're committed to practice. (I'd not that Siddhartha Buddha is said to have continued meditating twice a day for the forty or so years following his Enlightenment, and Jesus is remembered as praying regularly.)
Let's say that these two posts have made sense -- spirituality is about living deeply and fully, and doing that takes practice. Still, why would you need anyone helping with that? What could a Spiritual Director offer that you couldn't find on your own?
Do I really need to say more?
A personal trainer is someone who knows how to help you on your way to being more physically fit, but they don't lift the weights for you. That you have to do. And people do certainly work out on their own, yet a qualified trainer can help you to avoid common pitfalls, and can check your form in the moment to help you avoid injury, and can suggest exercises you may not have thought of on your own. Yet they don't know everything there is to know about fitness, they really know very little about you, and they can't do your workout for you.
I keep coming back to that point, don't I? There's a story I've read about a Zen monk who had a brand new, overly eager student thrust upon him. This younger monk pestered the elder with questions, clearly wanting to glean all that he could from the learning of the more experienced monk so that his own journey would be easier. Aware of this, recognizing that his young charge essentially wanted him to do the work on the other's behalf, the senior monk looked the younger one in the eye and said, "I will do everything I can to help you on your spiritual journey, yet there are four things I cannot do for you: I cannot eat for you; I cannot go to the bathroom for you; I cannot get into your skin and walk around for you; and I cannot live your life for you." It is said that upon hearing this the younger monk attained enlightenment. [I've adapted this story from Sōkō Morinaga's marvelous book, Novice to Master: an ongoing lesson in the extent of my own stupidity.]
Let's say that these two posts have made sense -- spirituality is about living deeply and fully, and doing that takes practice. Still, why would you need anyone helping with that? What could a Spiritual Director offer that you couldn't find on your own?
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| The Personal Trainer - Eemnes, Netherlands, 2017 (© Floris Oosterveld, used under Creative Commons license) |
Do I really need to say more?
A personal trainer is someone who knows how to help you on your way to being more physically fit, but they don't lift the weights for you. That you have to do. And people do certainly work out on their own, yet a qualified trainer can help you to avoid common pitfalls, and can check your form in the moment to help you avoid injury, and can suggest exercises you may not have thought of on your own. Yet they don't know everything there is to know about fitness, they really know very little about you, and they can't do your workout for you.
I keep coming back to that point, don't I? There's a story I've read about a Zen monk who had a brand new, overly eager student thrust upon him. This younger monk pestered the elder with questions, clearly wanting to glean all that he could from the learning of the more experienced monk so that his own journey would be easier. Aware of this, recognizing that his young charge essentially wanted him to do the work on the other's behalf, the senior monk looked the younger one in the eye and said, "I will do everything I can to help you on your spiritual journey, yet there are four things I cannot do for you: I cannot eat for you; I cannot go to the bathroom for you; I cannot get into your skin and walk around for you; and I cannot live your life for you." It is said that upon hearing this the younger monk attained enlightenment. [I've adapted this story from Sōkō Morinaga's marvelous book, Novice to Master: an ongoing lesson in the extent of my own stupidity.]
A lot of people seem to have an image of a Spiritual Director as some kind of medieval monk, dour and stern, telling someone how long they should stay on their knees (preferably on a cold stone floor), and how many prayers of just what kind they should be praying. (With, of course, the threat of eternal damnation if one should disobey.) And that is certainly one way this calling has been understood and, unfortunately, is no doubt still understood by some.
Instead, the Spiritual Director -- like the personal trainer who keeps an informed eye on how you're executing the various exercises you're doing -- travels with you to help keep you focused on your desire to see, hear, feel, love, live more clearly. A Spiritual Director won't -- shouldn't -- tell you what prayers to pray, but will help you to see what "prayer" means to you at this moment in your life, and to look for the ways you are connecting, and to discover new ways through which you might connect, with life's depths (which some call "Spirit," and some call "God," and others call "Inner Wisdom," and others need no names for).
Instead, the Spiritual Director -- like the personal trainer who keeps an informed eye on how you're executing the various exercises you're doing -- travels with you to help keep you focused on your desire to see, hear, feel, love, live more clearly. A Spiritual Director won't -- shouldn't -- tell you what prayers to pray, but will help you to see what "prayer" means to you at this moment in your life, and to look for the ways you are connecting, and to discover new ways through which you might connect, with life's depths (which some call "Spirit," and some call "God," and others call "Inner Wisdom," and others need no names for).
Pax tecum,
RevWik
RevWik
