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The Paradox of Poverty : a Book Review

The Paradox of Poverty: Why are the poor in spirit “Blessed”:  

Quote from the publisher: ““Blessed are the poor in spirit,” Jesus said, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” And we smile, nod, and think: “Lovely thought.” But if we’re paying attention, it’s a shocking, almost offensive thought. The grieving, the broken hearted, the marginalized, the stigmatized―all blessed, all happy? In The Paradox of Poverty, Susan Pitchford examines the ways in which followers of Christ have understood “poverty of spirit,” and the traditions that have formed around their attempts to follow Jesus on this radical path. 

  Over the centuries, those who have heard Jesus have learned the truth of his promise that we will find the greatest happiness, our deepest fulfilment―the kingdom of heaven, in fact, our blessedness and our belovedness―in the things that seem to impoverish our souls. The Paradox of Poverty looks at some of the wisdom traditions that have formed this understanding: the Scriptures, the desert mothers and fathers, the Franciscans, liberation theologians, prosperity gospel preachers, the 12-Step movement, and more. At both individual and collective levels, these traditions help us understand that varied kinds of poverty can become a “blessing” by bringing us to know our belovedness in God.” 

My interest mounted as I discovered the breadth and depth to which the writer had researched the “Paradox of Poverty of Spirit”. Susan Pritchard has produced a wealth of information and thought-provoking pages. This is a book which I would want to read again and keep for future reference. The writer shows how we become distracted from the meaning Christ set out for us in the Beatitudes. I commend this book for its insight and richness. 

Text © Michael Butler.  A Julian Meetings member. 

Image © Liturgical Press.

THE PARADOX OF POVERTY

Susan Pritchard

Published by Liturgical Press, 2025, paperback/e-book/ Kindle. 

ISBN  9798400802102 

Also available from Amazon

We invite readers to suggest further books for review, and are looking for further member reviewers. Contact us on https://thejulianmeetings.net/contact-for-book-reviews/

We invite readers to contribute to the Blog. Contact us on https://thejulianmeetings.net/contact-for-blog/

The Julian Meetings support in-person and online groups around the country. We make teaching on Contemplative Prayer and Meditation as easily and widely accessible as we can. Articles and reviews express the views only of their respective authors. 

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Remembering Julian of Norwich near her Anniversary

Julian of Norwich – reflections over the years. 

Our meetings are named after Julian of Norwich, but she is not our primary focus. The churches remember her on the 8th of May, the anniversary of her stream of mystical experiences in 1373. Following the Revelations, Julian pondered them for twenty years, challenging God and gaining clarity. Julian’s final text was hidden for many years, through the Reformation persecutions in England and the French revolution. Finally, a Presbyterian woman, Grace Warrack, hunted out an old manuscript in the British Library and copied it by hand. Sheila Upjohn investigated the story, wrote a book about it, and alluded to it in her April 2018 article. 

Here are some excerpts from our treasure trove of magazines

She retained a positive outlook while remaining real.

She is a “happy mystic”, and her writings are full of ‘joyous calm’ in spite of the serious challenges she experienced and discussed with God 

 © Martin Israel August 2003

The book addresses contemporary concerns.

“Her book was ‘rediscovered’ by a woman scholar at just the right time, when women were beginning to have a voice and be listened to. It was immediately popular. Here was a book by an English woman, not a foreign mystic. One of us. And her message is one of hope and optimism, not doubt and despair. Julian’s book breathes an atmosphere of common sense, a balanced mind,a loving heart, a closeness to the ordinary, that we all need to hear.”  

     “She is conversant with the idea of God as Mother, most likely through her own experience of motherhood. Jesus feeds us and teaches us as a mother feeds and teaches her child; God wraps us in goodness as a mother wraps up her infant; Jesus is courteous and friendly in demeanour, not some judge who is easily offended”  

     “She would have seen the seamy side of life, had contact with tradesmen, prostitutes, rogues. Her mildness is noticeable in that she condemns no one, and sees God as non condemnatory too. A life of prayer and listening enabled her to see that sin is not always where we think it is, and indeed ‘all shall be well’ despite our faults and failings. 

     “in her cell Julian wrestles with the big questions of life: sin, the humanity of Christ, the place of suffering, what is love and how it is shown, our eternal destiny and God’s Providence”. 

     “If we want, Julian can be our friend and teacher, opening our eyes to new ways of seeing and understanding life, God and ourselves. She can teach us about the value of silence and prayer, of keeping going when there seems to be no feedback. And Julian is characterised by her wonderful sense of gratitude. God is good. The meaning of life is love. And in accepting one another prayerfully and non-judgementally we accept and love the whole of humanity. Truly ‘All shall be well.’ 

© Elizabeth Obbard, Julian of Norwich–woman of Faith and Prayer. August 2008.

During the Coronavirus lock-down in 2020, Julian’s example became particularly relevent:

“Perhaps we can follow Julian by filling time with thoughts of the love of God rather than being led off-track by the media circus. All that Julian experienced led her to write her wonderful Revelations of Divine Love, so full of insight and reflection. The God she shows us in the suffering and compassionate Jesus is the same God for us. ‘He did not say, ‘you shall not be tempest-tossed, you shall not be work – weary, you shall not be discomforted’. But he said ‘you shall not be overcome’.”  

(August 2020 © Gill Butterworth, citing Julian’s longer book, RDF Chapter 68). 

In December 2023, Margaret Coles compared Julian of Norwich with a gifted, tenacious journalist: 

Dangerous  

It was a dangerous and perforce secret mission. While the medieval church was preaching sin, punishment, purgatory and hellfire, Julian was writing about God’s unconditional love and merciful compassion. She wrote that God was never angry, that he looked upon his darling children ‘with pity, not with blame’, had forgiven us for all wrongdoing, past, present and future, and was for ever coming towards us with his mercy and love. Julian knew full well the risk she was taking. Had she been discovered she would have had to recant or be burnt at the stake.  

Persistent  

… She had the integrity to risk her life for the story, as do many modern-day journalists. Julian is a reliable witness, a diligent fact-checker who dared to say, at a press conference with God, ‘Sorry, I didn’t quite get that point. Would you mind clarifying it?’ Add to her extraordinary courage and integrity a thoroughness and rigorous attention to detail and pains-taking efforts to describe precisely what she was shown, a she understood that every detail counted.  

Not an easy task  

Julian confronted the toughest questions, getting to grips with the puzzling and sometimes disturbing knowledge entrusted to her – deep, mysterious themes that take some unravelling. What to make of ‘sin is behoovable’ – translatable as ‘appropriate’ or ‘necessary’ or ‘sin shall be a glory’ – when you support the church’s condemnation of sin? She wrote it all down faithfully, with no fudging. The answer, she discovered, is that the pain caused by sin can become a source of self-knowledge and humility and an acceptance of God’s forgiveness and love.  

An honest witness  

Julian’s best known saying is ‘All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well’, but she is no Pollyanna. She lived through war, plague, famine and social unrest. She viewed the world through the little window of her anchor-hold, to which people brought their cares, seeking kindness and understanding. Trust is hard to win and easy to lose. Julian’s honest voice is a witness who helps us, in a world of pain and uncertainty, find the courage to dare to trust that we have the certainty of God’s love. © Margaret Coles 

All the editions of the magazine are easily available on the web site. There is inspiration, challenge, history, and the testimony of many who have found again a living encounter with God. While we recall Julian of Norwich and read her words, in silence, alone or in a meeting, we meet her God afresh in our own age. 

Text ©Philip Tyers, blog editor. Image from Wiki Commons, photograph of statue outside Norwich Cathedral by David Holgate, 2000. 

We welcome contributions to the blog. Please go to our contact page:

https://thejulianmeetings.net/contact-for-blog/  

We invite readers to suggest further books for review, and are looking for further member reviewers. Contact us on https://thejulianmeetings.net/contact-for-book-reviews/

 The Julian Meetings support in-person and online groups around the country. We make teaching on Contemplative Prayer and Meditation as easily and widely accessible as we can. Articles and reviews express the views only of their respective authors.  

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Quality Time is Key in Spiritual Practices

the source of the key quotation, 'the Cure d'Ars'.

I looks at him, and he looks at me 

It is one of the signs of increasing age that one finds modern phrases or sayings annoying – ways of talking that were not around when one was young, but are now in common usage.  Of course, it is when one starts talking to the television and telling characters in dramas and news commentators how to speak that one knows that old fogy-ism has really set in with a vengeance. 

‘We are going to spend some quality time together.’  There is one that sets my teeth on edge.  Time itself has neither good nor bad quality.  It is a neutral space, which can be filled with anything.  It is the way that it is used which gives it its quality.  If someone is burgling a house, the time is not bad, the burglar is.  If someone is helping to raise money for a charity, it is the action which is good, not the time spent in the activity.  Time is neutral – we make it good or bad. 

In the New Testament account (Matthew 14.22-33), Jesus goes up into the mountains to pray.  He has just fed the crowds, he has been in the thick of it, and he is tired out and needs some respite.  It is such a great comfort to know that Jesus needed space in his life, space to pray, space to be alone, space to re-affirm his contact with his Father.  He needed time – he needed time away for the crowds, time to be with God.  It leads us to understand our own needs to give time to prayer.  It makes us realise that getting frazzled by life, getting up-tight, getting exhausted or fed up or out of sorts is not some deep fault in ourselves.  It is simply what happens.  The fault is to neglect to find time, to give time, to that contact with God which is available to all.  The fault is to neglect to give time to prayer. 

St Paul wrote that none of us know how to pray as we ought (Romans 8:26)– also a very comforting passage in the Bible, because don’t we just know how true that is.  Some prayer time seems productive, some seems remarkably sterile.  We cannot guarantee to have quality time when we pray, because the time itself is neutral, and our experience of prayer varies.  What we can do is give time, sacrifice time, set time aside.  Going in to prayer time with the expectation that we will get a lot out of it – that we will have a quality experience – is a great mistake.  All we have to do in prayer is give the time.  Of course, there are different ways of praying; intercession, praise, thanksgiving, and the rest; but that is a different matter.  There is no type of praying that does not require the sacrifice of time, even if only for a moment in the middle of a busy day. 

The Curé d’Ars (Jean Vianney, 8 May 1786 – 4 August 1859) told a story about prayer.  He used to go into his church and find a peasant sitting there looking at the crucifix on the altar.  He used to think to himself that the man was sitting there because he did not know what to do, and did not know how to pray – what could such a poor, ignorant man know about prayer?  So he went to the man to speak to him, and to offer him help in his prayer life.  He went up to him and asked what he was doing.  “I’m sitting here,” he said, and he indicated towards the figure of Christ, “and I looks at him and he looks at me.”  That is a perfect description of contemplative prayer.  And the Curé d’Ars realised that he had nothing to teach the man.  The man, above all, was giving time to prayer, and giving his whole attention in the time that he sat there.  There was nothing for the Curé to add. 

Text © Jonathan Smith Shoreham-by-Sea Julian Meeting 

 Photo  St Jean Vianney (the Cure of Ares) by George Desvallieres  from Wikipedia, Wikimedia Commons 

We invite readers to consider writing articles for inclusion in this blog. Have you discovered something that could help others in their prayer, alone or in a group?
I have been reminded recently about Joyce Huggett. She gave many talks and wrote books such as ‘Listening to God’ and ‘Formed by the Desert’. How did she contribute to your life? Her family are inviting those who knew her to contribute to a memorial service in June.

Philip – Blog editor.

The Julian Meetings support in-person and online groups around the country. We make teaching on Contemplative Prayer and Meditation as easily and widely accessible as we can. Articles and reviews express the views only of their respective authors.  

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Musing on Lent and Easter music. 

crown of thorns with title lent and easter © Blackburn Cathedral

During the installation of Abp. Sarah Mullally, lines were sung from the words of Julian of Norwich. The composer Joanna Marsh had compiled these words in her anthem All Shall Be Well in 2021. Lyrics and music © Joanna Marsh

Without love we may not live 

And in this love our life is everlasting.                                            

Love was without beginning, is and shall be without ending. 

All shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well. 

Ah! Good Lord, how might it all be well? 

For wickedness hath been suffered to rise  
contrary to the Goodness. 

 I it am, the Might and the Goodness of the Fatherhood; 

 I it am, the Wisdom of the Motherhood; 

 I it am, the Light and the Grace that is all blessed Love. 

The Blackburn Chamber Choir sang a programme of music for Lent and Easter. Various pieces gave different views of God and his work with us.  

One prayed that God “will not hide his face from us or cast us off in displeasure.” It pleaded with God to forgive all our sins. Another, by the same composer (Richard Farrant d. 1580), asked God to remember his tender mercy and loving kindness, instead of “the sins and offenses of our youth.”  

A twentieth century piece, “Solus ad Victinam”, by Kenneth Leighton (d.1988) used words by Peter Abelard who died in 1142. It reflected on Christ giving himself as a sacrifice for our sin. It asked that we will suffer Christ’s pain for the 3 days. By doing so, we aim to win his mercy. This allows us to share his glory and “the laughter of his Easter day”.

These concepts seem alien today. The idea of pleading for forgiveness seems foreign. The sense that God is displeased with us and would punish us is also unfamiliar. The yearning to suffer with Christ is even more so.  

Our Bishop said that Jesus had sought us. He saved us. Then, He sat down after completing His task (Hebrews 1:3). God is all loving kindness. We do not need to plead for what he has already given. 

Another more popular piece from the Romantic era (Mendlesson d. 1847), asked God to listen because the godless and wicked oppress the writer. It then yearned for ‘the wings of a dove: far away would I rove… In the wilderness build me a nest to remain there for ever at rest’. It felt like sheer escapism, more the self-indulgence of the composer than the spiritual resourcing of the listeners.  

Do we come to Julian meetings or meditate at home, to have time ‘at rest’? Or do we meditate because, as another piece (Ubi Caritas Ola Gujielo b. 1978) reminded us, “where love is, there is God,” who binds us together in unity? in Christ we are one with each other and with God. We come to experience that, not merely assert it .  

Richard Rohr and others expand that unity. In Christ, we are one with people of any ethnic background. We are one with those who speak any language. We are united with people of any religion. We are at one with both the poor and the rich. We are at one with God. Despite our current wars, we are at one with Ukrainian and Russian, American, Israeli, Palestinian and Iranian.  The is no duality between God and people, and no ‘us’ and ‘them’ between people groups.

The broad range of Christian prayers use many pictures of God and his action on us. In silence, we allow God simply to be himself. We open ourselves to a new, simple vision. We discover the tranquility underlying the discords and upsets of the world. We also drop the chaos of our minds. This is not to ‘remain forever at rest,’ but to face with confidence whatever comes next. 

Text © Philip Tyers.  

Image © Blackburn Cathedral, used with permission

 The Julian Meetings support in-person and online groups around the country. We make teaching on Contemplative Prayer and Meditation as easily and widely accessible as we can. Articles and reviews express the views only of their respective authors.

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Job – the Problem of Suffering and the Problem of God.

tree segments showing damage in the rings Copyright p tyers

Janet has written about how reflecting on the book of Job helped her come to terms with grief. We invite our readers to write reflections on topics that join prayer and life. We would also like to hear about your groups. We hope to publish the next blog at Easter. Philip Tyers, Editor

The photo shows suffering endured by a tree over many years,  invisible to outsiders.  

Janet writes:

Many years ago, as a family, we suffered a grievous loss. It was a body blow of the most radical kind, a happening which severely questions belief. I do not think that I asked, “Why did this happen to me?” Suffering happens to most if not all people at some time in their lives. It caused me to ask questions about the roots of suffering.  

Fortunately, I came across a book, which provided some answers. Harold Kushner was a rabbi. He had suffered the death of a son. His son was born with an incurable and rare disease. The son died when he was fourteen. Kushner, inevitably, had mused upon this death, had asked questions of God. It was his chapter on the book of Job that helped me most. Kushner made three statements: 

  1. God is all- powerful and causes everything that happens in this world. Nothing happens without him willing it. 
  1. God is just and fair, and stands for people getting what they deserve, so that the good prosper and the wicked perish. 
  1. Job is a good person. 

He postulated that we cannot make sense of all these statements. We must sacrifice one in order to believe in the other two. His answer, which has become mine, is that God is not all-powerful. There are things which God cannot control. When disasters of any kind occur, we should not regard them as “acts of God” but turn to God to help us to live through them. God does this in many profound ways. That is a simplistic and inadequate comment on this wise book, but it helped me, as it has helped others for many years.  

This returned me to the Book of Job itself. It has been called the “most wonderful poem of any age and language; our first, oldest statement of the never ending problem – man’s destiny and God’s way with him in this world” (Thomas Carlyle). The saga of Job’s suffering, the arguments of his friends and the magisterial arguments of God need to be read repeatedly.  

Recently, I came across Andy Roland’s ‘The Book of Job.’ The author has abbreviated the text and arranged it for private reading, for group study and for public performance. The concluding chapter discusses the meaning of Job as the author finds it. He suggests, as does Kushner, that it not only discusses the problem of suffering but also the problem of God.  

A reading of all three books requires deep and searching thought and helps us to  

  • “Forgive the world for not being perfect,  
  • Forgive God for not making a perfect world,  
  • Reach out to the people around us  
  • Go on living despite it all” (Kushner). 

REFERENCES: 

Harold Kushner: When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Pan Books; 1st published 1981, and again with new introduction 2002. ISBN 9780330490559 Also available on Kindle.

Author unknown: The Book of Job – The Bible. 

Andy Roland: The Book of Job. Filament publishing. 2019 ISBN 9781913192501  Also available on Kindle.

Photo © Philip Tyers 2026

 Text ©Janet Robinson 2026. 

Editor: Philip Tyers

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Pondering the Julian Meetings

But when the Lord comes, will he find faith on earth? Luke 18:8

I was sitting in my allotment, pondering what I should be doing. I noticed that there was a slight slope and the earth at the top kept on wandering down to the bottom, where the shed is. The soil had enveloped the bottom of the shed and it was rotting. So I loaded the wheelbarrow up with the excess soil and took it to the beds higher up. It sounded like a command. Prevent soil erosion!. I made sides for the beds to keep the soil still.

I also heard it as a call to the next stage of my life. What acts as a barrier to prevent the continuing erosion of the soil of faith? Prayer. Maintaining the continual link with God. I could be like marram grass, anchoring the shifting sands of faith, giving my neighbours something to cling to. That is one reason I asked the Dean whether I could start a contemplative prayer group in Blackburn Cathedral. He put the Canon Missioner onto me, and we agreed a monthly time, and started up. 

Recently, the Archbishop, Stephen Cotterill, conducted a series called ‘faith in the North’, where he visits each diocese with instruction on the Lord’s Prayer. It is one of the few bits of the Bible many people have memorised. He said that it is a guide not only for prayer, but also for Christian living. The first word is ‘Our’. A Christian lives in the presence of other people, and FOR other people. And God if father of all people. His kingdom invites all to benefit, ‘on earth as in heaven’. 

Matthew precedes it with Jesus’ instructions on private prayer. There seems an implicit with those who make a show of prayer within a religious culture. Today in England we have a predominantly non religious culture. There are sizable pockets of Muslims and other where things are different, but the main flavour of our society excludes religion. That does not mean that we should therefore change Jesus’ teachings. The cathedral itself is a private space, where one can be hidden. The staff and congregation do all they can to ensure open public access and run events that encourage all sorts of people to come in. 

In the contemplative prayer group we come together and sit down. Each of us goes into our private space inside, and closes the door. We focus on God, knowing that around us others are doing the same. Instead of being closed off, we come together into the shared space, but each is in their own heart, where we always meet not only our Lord and ourselves, but The World. By going in, we reach out. And when we go out, we reach in. It is by paying serious attention to what is going on around us, seeing how it is all held in God, that we meet God as He is. We find he is in our individual hearts and in everyone else too.The Creator is always at work. By tuning in to the One, we find the All.

So what is the future of Julian meetings? Our founder pondered this in her Fiftieth Anniversary address, She recalled how in the early days, she had contacted the other groups exploring and teaching Contemplative Prayer. She found they were elderly and dwindling. She asked us whether we felt we should continue, and gave us silence to invite the Spirit to guide us.

The future will start where we are. My impression is that we are a group of individuals, continuing silent prayer, and some of us are lucky enough to belong to a group. The improving material on our web page is our gift to the Church, especially to those exploring silent prayer.

I’m not sure about the future concrete fulfilment of the coming of the Lord. I have always felt he is here and now, in a different mode to Judah AD 30, but as real. I expect this to continue. But to answer the hypothetical question, “if he came, would he find faith on earth?”, Julian meetings do their bit to ensure the answer ‘yes’. We do not impose faith. We open ourselves to the One in whom faith may be had. We discover, in the silence, what he has to offer. We give ourselves to the waiting, turning back again and again as our attention drifts, to the source of life itself. We are like Marram grass, anchoring the sand dune of faith against erosion.

Text and image ©Philip Tyers

Blackburn Cathedral Contemplative Prayer Meeting

November 2025

NB Philip Tyers is a JM member. The Blackburn Cathedral Contemplative Prayer Group is not a registered Julian Meeting but is organised on similar principles as appropriate for the Cathedral.

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Exploring the Spiritual Labyrinth Experience

Saturday 4 August 7.30pm. The cathedral nave is clear of chairs, the lighting is subdued. Two dozen of us gather in a circle in the north transept. At the centre of our chairs is a bunch of carnations, and a ball of twine with its free end curling in a spiral away from the flowers. A flautist quietly plays variations on Taize chants.

Judith, the Cathedral chaplain, welcomes us and explains the history of labyrinths and mazes as spiritual aids. Following the path occupies your mind, while walking occupies your body, and your spirit is free to be with God. For some there is great significance in working towards the centre – of yourself, of God, of… – and then working outwards again back to your everyday world.

The labyrinth we are to walk is laid out in the centre of the nave. It is a 36-feet diameter canvas on which is a copy of the labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral. Because it is on canvas we are asked to remove our shoes before we enter it. While Judith is explaining to us, a verger is walking the labyrinth, censing it as he goes.

We are each given a flower, to be a symbol of whatever we choose and to do with as we choose. Judith explains that we are free to use all the cathedral, the cloisters, the cloister garden and the crypt as we choose, and to join in with others as much or as little as we wish. She then picks up the end of the twine and sets off slowly out of the transept and down the north aisle. Each of us in turn picks up and holds on to the twine so that eventually we are spread out along it like beads on a string. It gives me an unusual experience of connectedness.

Judith leads us down to the back of the nave, across to the west doors and then up the centre of the cathedral towards the labyrinth. In the subdued lighting the labyrinth looks very mystical, surrounded as it is with nightlight candles and wreathed in the smoke of incense.

There is a limit to how many people can physically walk the maze at any one time, and I am a long way down the line, so I leave the string and walk quietly out to the cloisters and the garden. In the evening light the stones glow, while the pool at the centre is darkly reflective.

When I return to the nave I remove both my shoes and my socks. It seems right to walk the labyrinth barefoot. It is a tightly interlocking pattern. At first I head towards the centre, and then the path turns away from it, and continues on a complicated twisting route. I need to concentrate, or I wobble or nearly miss the path. I try looking up and out across the labyrinth, but this confuses my eyes as there are so many lines. So, unless I am very near the edge of the maze, I keep my gaze within quite close limits. I am short­sighted: I wonder how it feels to someone with long sight?

As I walk I keep passing some people regularly, others I never encounter, and yet more are near at intervals and then at a distance. I often have to turn sideways, or dip aside so that someone on an adjacent path and I can pass without knocking each other off our route. One lady is dancing her way around the labyrinth, swaying along to the music she can obviously hear in her head.

It takes a surprisingly long time to reach the centre – it is quite a long walk. Most people seem to stop there for a while, sitting or standing in the small space to pray, or reflect. I feel quite claustrophobic at the centre of the labyrinth, perhaps because of the number of people in a small space.

I would like to walk it alone, or with one or two others only, to see how different an experience it might be.

Some people have placed their flowers round the edge of the labyrinth. Many leave them at the centre, but mine is still in my hand as I start on my return walk. I have realised what it signifies for me, and therefore where I wish to leave it. There are fewer people on the labyrinth as I walk back. At times I go quite a distance without meeting anyone, and I am aware of the pattern stretching away from me, and then the shadowy spaces of the cathedral beyond. I feel a sense of relief when I reach the end, almost as though I am escaping…

Perhaps I am escaping to something. Still barefoot, I walk across the cold stone floor, and up the steps into part of the cathedral that is unlit. But I know where I am going, and there is enough light shining through the arches and tracery to find my way. I take my flower and place it quietly, gently, in my chosen place, and open my heart to God, and make a promise. This is why I came. This is why I am here.

After a while I return to the nave and reclaim my shoes and socks. I walk towards the west door and sit in one of the stone seats built into the west wall. The building is transformed by the dim light, the wafts of incense: the lack of chairs or furnishing. A lady is dancing quietly, caught up in the atmosphere of this magical, mystical space. One person is walking the labyrinth alone, moving within the circle of lights and flowers.

We all move towards the maze, and gather round it. We can just reach to hold hands and encircle it. There is chance for people to speak, to pray, to share. Then we bless each other in the words of the Grace, eyes meeting eyes across the maze, the candle flames flickering on our hands, on our faces. We know we have been blessed indeed.


©Deidre Morris August 2001 magazine

Image generated with AI

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Loss of Silence – Dealing with Tinnitus 

First published in the April 2002 magazine but still very relevant. 

“Avoid very noisy places and totally silent places”… so reads an article on tinnitus and hearing problems. 

And yet for years silence for me has been a natural environment – a bit like putting a fish back in water – and prayer largely silent. If there were times when I found silence difficult I could take comfort in or be inspired by the wisdom of the Bible, of our spiritual writers or of personal friends, especially within a local Julian Meeting. 

Recently, however, I have experienced a more intractable problem. The slight hearing loss which began to be apparent in my early forties is worsening and for two or three years I have been increasingly bothered by tinnitus. At first the noise – variously described as ringing, tinkling, roaring, a hissing sound like escaping gas – was not too intrusive and did not greatly affect my times of quiet meditation. But the noise and the deafness are worsening and silence is becoming quite difficult.  

When the opportunity came of spending a few days with a small community with a listening ear available, I decided that I wanted to try to address the hearing problems and the increasingly distracted quiet times and try to find some coping mechanisms. Being away from a busy life and staying with very caring people was a good beginning. Someone to talk it over with was a real help and it left me feeling a shift in my position and renewed hope. I could actually do something positive about this. I came away with practical suggestions, for example learning to lip read and with details of a chaplain for deaf people who proved to be a valuable source of suggestions and encouragement and who has supplied literature and addresses. 

The breathing space and support of the community left me in a better position to address the problem of the loss of silence in prayer. I realised how thin and short my set-aside prayer time had become since the problem worsened and that l was in fact beginning to avoid much silence. One of the difficulties is that though more apparent at some times than others the tinnitus is always there. I realised I was beginning just to sit and listen to the noise and it did not feel as if much loving attention was going on. 

“Quiet time” was becoming an endurance test. Strangely I would have expected the solution to be rather similar to managing a noisy external environment, but I found this approach was no help. The noise was interior and I seemed to have lost the inner silence that can exist regardless of noise outside. It was more akin to managing chronic pain or grief than to managing a noisy environment. 

All sorts of difficulties such as health problems or family worries affect our prayer, but for me a significant part of the difficulty of managing tinnitus, which makes it different from life’s other difficulties, is that my own body seemed to be destroying the essence of prayer – silence – and to be in conflict with my deepest desires. And the result was a sense of guilt and frustration. I even wondered if I should give up silent meditation. Was I making an idol of silence? God is not bound by our silence any more than he is defined by our words. Nor are his love and power. Everything changes and our relationships change and hopefully grow so perhaps the quiet times needed to change. 

As I thought and prayed about this I became convinced that I needed a different place – not necessarily physically; but if I used my imagination I could perhaps create a place where I could more comfortably meet God – a place where the background noise would mask the distracting racket going on in my head and make it less obvious. I experimented with this over a period of a few weeks. Two environments have been persistently helpful and have remained a resource now that the problem has eased. They had almost a “given” quality. The first was a high waterfall in a tropical setting – very damp, green and bright with colourful birds and a roar in the background which blended with the unwelcome noise, making it almost unnoticeable. As I revisited this place during successive prayer times I noticed that the site was now inhabited by two people standing not far from the falling water. In fact close enough to be getting rather wet from the spray. I could not recognise them. Their features were not discernible and they were rather stylised. One had his arm round the other, inclining his head to try to hear what the other was saying. Intuitively I knew these for Christ – who was the listener – and myself. On further reflection it seemed that in this picture Christ was saying “I will accept your limitations and inhabit your noisy place.” 

The second place was on a shingle beach in an English winter where the breaking waves were crashing on the beach, pounding the shingle and sucking the stones backwards as they retreated. There was wind and salt spray. Unlike the first place there was an absence of colour – sea, sky and beach being various shades of grey. Again, after a few visits there, the scene began to be peopled this time with a group of people – either a family group or friends usually walking but not attempting to say much as the wind took their words away. An atmosphere of quiet companionship invariably settled on the group. They have come to symbolise the people who over the years have shared the silent spaces with me and the people who do so still. 

As all these things had their good effect and I felt more at ease, I began to resume my normal habit of using relaxation and centring exercises as a way of settling into silence before any words or reading, though giving more time to this than before. Gradually the sense of loss has faded and a feeling of thankfulness is returning and sheer relief. There are good days and bad days. On bad days alternating silence with slow reading helps. 

Wakeful nights are rather different. The quiet of the night and the horizontal position seem to make the noise of tinnitus more pronounced. My most useful aid is not vision but touch: a holding cross loosely held in one hand. Holding a cross is also helpful to me in a group meditation if I cannot hear the reading properly and a visual focus is not being used. 

The following resources have helped: 

People Need stillness by Wanda Nash. DLT, 1992 (there is also a relaxation tape with the same title)

At Ease with Stress by Wanda Nash. DLT, 1988  

Prayer in the shadows by Angela Ashwin. Fount, 1990 

Some of these may be out of print – copies may be available from:

Abe Books https://www.abebooks.co.uk/

World of Books https://www.worldofbooks.com/en-gb

Amazon sellers. 

RNID Royal National Institute for the Deaf https://rnid.org.uk/information-and-support/tinnitus/ 

© Gail Ballinger.  First published in the April 2002 magazine. 

Photo. Not edited.

Jason Rogers, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Comments

If this is a problem that you share we would be interested to hear how you deal with it. In your personal quiet times, or in a group, what helps and what hinders?  What resources have you found? 

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August Magazine

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The Lost Key

Christ_Handing_the_Keys_to_St._Peter_by_Pietro_Perugino_crop.jpg

Christ Handing the Keys to St. Peter by Pietro Perugino Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

The Lost Key

Sufism, which is sometimes described as the mystical tradition in Islam, has a tradition of the ‘wise fool’.  Stories about Sufi teachers often tell a tale of the master acting in a foolish way in order to give a lesson about spirituality, and about the misunderstanding of those with less knowledge.  The fictional Mullah Nasruddin, who appears, among other texts, in South Asian children’s books, is such a teacher.  The tradition of the fool, the truth-teller, is also deep in western culture.  The following is a story told in many different forms in the Sufi tradition.

A Sufi master had lost the key to his house and was looking for it outside. He got down on his hands and knees in the field outside his house, searching for the key. Some of his disciples came along and asked what he was doing.

He said, “I have lost the key to my house.”

 “Can we help you find it?” they responded

“By all means”, he replied.

So they all got down on their hands and knees and started desperately searching, covering a wide area between them.

One of the disciples, after a fruitless search, said, “Master, do you know where you might have lost the key?”

“Yes,” he replied.  “I lost it in the house.”

Then why are we looking for it out here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? There is more light here.”

We have all lost the key to our house. We don’t live there anymore. We don’t experience the divine indwelling. We don’t live with the kind of intimacy with God that Adam and Eve reportedly enjoyed in the Garden of Eden and the Sufi master seems to have enjoyed before he lost his key.

The house in the story is the place where we should be living, close to God, aware of his love and care. Living elsewhere, in a world of confusion and distraction, is only forced on us because the key to our happiness has been lost.  It has not been lost outside of ourselves, but within.  Through the contemplative dimension of life, we need to look for it inside ourselves, where our true link with the divine is to be found.