We’ve just concluded our ‘The Way of the Cross’ course with Dr. David Field (in collaboration with the Theopolis Institute). It was an incredibly fruitful five weeks and, I believe, will produce even greater fruitfulness for our parish as the months and years turn round.
Of the many things we covered in the course I find myself reflecting this weekend on David’s teaching on “breathing.”
So much of this season tends to leave us “breathless.”
Against such pressure God calls us to breathe. Being here-now, before the Lord, present-in-our-body, engaged with Reality. Deep breath. “Here I am, O Lord; in this moment.”
Each breath is a gift from the Lord —a breath the Living God has breathed into us to sustain us in the here-now into which He has invited us.
God breathes on Adam and makes him a living spirit (Gen. 2:7; 1 Cor. 15:45). Elisha imitates the Lord and breathes new life into the widow’s dead son (2 Kng 4:18-37). So also does the Risen Christ, the one whom Thomas hails as “my Lord and my God", breathe on the disciples and thus imparts to them the Spirit (Jn. 20:22).
Reflecting on such things Maximus the Confessor ruminates: “God is Breath, for the breath of the wind is shared by all, goes everywhere; nothing shuts it in, nothing holds it prisoner” (On the Divine Names, I, 4; as cited in Olivier Clement, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, p.33).
Here’s an Advent practice: Five times a day (upon waking, upon beginning work, at noon, upon finishing work for the day / getting home, and before bed) pause what you are doing, close your eyes, and breathe deeply three times “In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” Render yourself present before the Living God in whatever condition or circumstance you find yourself, be real. A few examples may be helpful as long as you promise to let them be examples, not models:
“God, here I am, I have just woken-up, I’d much prefer to stay in bed today but I must get up, but you have given me new breath for this moment, bless me and provide for me today. Amen.”
“Lord, today was hard, and I am oppressed by thoughts of how much I still need to get done this week, help me now be present at home with my family and not thinking at a distance from the things around me. Amen.”
“Dear God, this is good food. I was very hungry for this lunch. Thank you for this little life of mine that you sustain. Thank you for the food. Amen.”
“In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit: help e to control my tongue. Amen.”
“Thank your that deep breath.
I’m reminded of an anecdote David Field shared with me once: While walking a parish priest once caught a parishioner kneeling in a field and praying. “Wow, you must be very close to God” said the priest. “Yes sir I am,” said the man, “can’t seem to get away from Him: he’s very fond of me and follows me everywhere.”
Perhaps an immediate response is one of comparison: either “wow that parishioner is kinda smug and arrogant” or “golly I’m not as holy as that parishioner” or “I gotta be more like that” or something. But the whole conceit of the story is just the opposite: that man is no different than me. He is not a guru. The quality of his spiritual life has absolutely nothing to do with it. God is as present to that man as He is to me. God is very fond of me and you and that man.
Five times a day this Advent take a breath —in the shopping mall, in the car ride, in the cooking of food, in the filing of end-of-the-year financial information, in the daily pressures, in the waking up, in the traffic, in the dark moments, in the nuptial difficulties, etc.— and meet the God who is very fond of you and has given you his Breath of Life.