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Treasures old and new

Treasures from past and present. 

The accompanying photograph shows a tree that has over the course of a century pushed the surrounding boulders apart. 

This blog is like the scribe instructed in the Kingdom, who brings treasures both old and new from his stores Matthew 13:12.

Over its history, Christians have learned many things. For example, before he died in 257AD, Cyprian wrote  

“When we pray it is not for one person, but for the entire people; because we the whole people, are one. God, who is the Teacher of prayer and peace, taught us peace. He wished each one to pray for all, just as he, himself, has borne all together in one” 

Commentary on the Lord’s Prayer, Ch. 8. Extract from Saints on Earth: A biographical companion to Common Worship by John H Darch and Stuart K Burns.

‘We the whole people, are one’ is like a draught of fresh water to our thirsty separated world. What is slaking your thirst these days? 

On 10th. October, the Admin group are holding an open meeting on Zoom. We want to learn from you how things are going in your groups. We hope to encourage one another.  

In April 2003, meetings were preparing for the 30th. Anniversary. In the Julian Meeting Magazine Hilary Wakeman described how they started. She had visited many places and met people interested in contemplative prayer.

“In each place …We talked about contemplative prayer, and how so few people – including clergy of all denominations – seemed to know about it, which was very hard on those who felt drawn to it. We agreed that what we all wanted was some sort of network of practitioners, with regular meetings where we could pray together in this way.”  

Today in 2026 we are still meeting, still working to help people know about contemplative prayer. 

The same edition held an article by Di Cooke explaining the difference between contemplative prayer, meditation , and silent prayer. I find I slip between the three during any prayer session, but find that continuing the struggle to remain in contemplative mode especially fruitful. (see also Deidre Morris’ 2010 article).

The April 2017 magazine has Giles Fraser writing about praying alone in church.

“Of course you can do it elsewhere, but these are places set aside for it. Here the silence creeps into me, a bit like the cold. Not the silence of empty nothingness but the silence of sitting comfortably with a friend. And in to that silence I bring all that is not OK with me.   

“The chemistry of prayer is the meeting of these two elements: that little surd of hidden desperation that some (most, all?) of us carry around with us, often without owning up to it, and that vast expanse of purposeful silence, the shorthand for which is God. In my experience, these two elements are drawn to each other. And the slow reaction between them is worth breaking into any church to find.   

“There are various accelerants to this chemical reaction – the repetition of liturgical formulas, even lighting candles. Like all organised religion, this is easy enough to sneer at. But key to the reaction is silence and time. Both eat away at our excuses, our false hopes, our lack of reality. Self-serving bull-shit doesn‘t easily survive the rigours of time and silence. And in this fantasy-busting environment I am lent the courage to open the most defended bits of me to the infinite love of God. “ 

April 2016 found Ian Cowley wondering  

“what a contemplative life looks like in 21st century Britain. Part of me would like to move to a small house in West Wales or the Scottish borders, and try to live a life of quiet contemplation. But that is not a realistic option for me, or indeed for most of us. So we are faced with the challenge of working out a contemplative way of living which will be constantly at odds with the culture that surrounds us.  We who feel this call to a contemplative way of life seem like missionaries living in a world which increasingly does not understand us and speaks a strange and different language. … At the heart of the contemplative life is learning to let go: learning to live in the present moment.  … As we grow into the practice of daily contemplative prayer, we will find ourselves being drawn, more and more, to this letting go, this radical detachment and trusting entirely in God. We live in an age of anxiety, preoccupied with control, significance and security. Jesus says to his followers ‘let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.’ (John 14:27) He calls us to live gladly in the grace of the present moment, knowing that ‘sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’ (Matthew 6:34) … Our culture continually tells us what will give us security and happiness, power and control. If we long for God’s way of doing things, for lasting joy and the peace which passes understanding, we will choose to set our hearts on a different way of living and being. We then have to work out each day what this means.  This is the contemplative way of living. This is the way of life in which we depend utterly, each and every day, on the grace and goodness of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 

Our Julian library of magazine articles is a treasury. Many articles and poems withstand the test of time. We also need a constant input of fresh writing to set alongside it. Please send in fresh articles. 

The programme by Dr. Janina Ramirez about how Julian of Norwich’s manuscript was found is still available on BBC iplayer.  

Photograph and text © Blog Editor. Individual quotations copyright by their respective authors.

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.   

We invite readers to contribute articles or to suggest further books for review, and are looking for further member reviewers.  

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Stillness Is Deeper Than Silence 

Stillness among noise

The Julian meetings practice Christian meditation/contemplative prayer, and this web site consists of a treasury of material supporting that practice. Here one of our members contributes from his rich experience of stillness even amid demanding, even life threatening, situations.

We often speak about silence as though it is something we must achieve. We sit down, close our eyes, and then discover that the mind has not received the instruction. Thoughts arrive. Sounds continue. Memories, worries, ideas, feelings, and distractions move around us. 

That can lead people to think they are failing at silent prayer. 

But perhaps stillness is deeper than silence. 

The silence of a Julian Meeting is not, I think, a demand that we somehow empty the mind by force. Very few people can do that. Perhaps nobody can do it completely. The mind moves. It produces thoughts in the same way the body breathes and the ears hear. The problem is not that thoughts arise. The question is what we do with them. 

Do we chase them? Do we argue with them? Do we try to push them away? Or can we simply allow them to be present, without making them the centre of our attention? 

This is where contemplative prayer becomes both gentle and demanding. It asks very little from us in one sense: just sit, be present, and wait upon God. But in another sense it asks a great deal, because it asks us not to control the experience. 

Meister Eckhart and other Christian contemplative writers often point us towards this kind of detachment: not coldness, not indifference, but freedom from the need to grasp everything that passes through the mind. In that spirit, stillness is not the absence of thought. It is the grace of not being ruled by every thought. 

Another word for this may be equanimity: a balanced presence, neither grasping nor resisting. In Christian terms, I do not mean a self-made calm, achieved by effort alone. I mean something received and practised: a grace that helps us remain present before God amid whatever moves around us and within us. 

This is why I find the image of the still person in the long-exposure photograph so helpful. Around them, the world rushes past. People move, lights blur, the street is full of activity. Yet the person remains still. The movement has not disappeared. The stillness is not created by removing the movement. The stillness is found within it. 

That is often what our inner life is like. 

We may come to silent prayer with a mind full of movement. We may be tired, distracted, anxious, or restless. We may be very aware of the sounds in the room, the noises outside, or the unfinished business of the day. Yet none of that prevents stillness. It only gives us the place where stillness may be practised. 

I have found this to be true beyond the meeting room as well. There have been moments in my own life, in difficult and noisy circumstances, where I have discovered that stillness was possible even when quiet was not. I do not always manage it. Far from it. There are many times when I have followed the wrong thought, fed the wrong feeling, or made the noise louder by engaging with it. That, perhaps, is a reflection for another time. 

For now, the point is simpler. 

If thoughts arise in prayer, we need not punish ourselves. If we suddenly realise we have been carried away by them, we can gently return. No drama is needed. No failure has occurred. We return to stillness as often as necessary. 

Perhaps this is one way of understanding grace. Not as a dramatic feeling, nor as a special experience we must seek, but as the quiet strength to remain present before God amid everything that moves around us and within us. 

So the challenge may be this: not only to sit in silence during a Julian Meeting, but to carry something of that stillness into life. 

Into the street. Into the workplace. Into family life. Into uncertainty. Into noise. 

Stillness is not the absence of noise. 

Stillness is deeper than silence. 

“Be still, and know that I am God.” 
Psalm 46:10 

Text ©️ Ian Beers. Image created using Artificial Intelligence from prompts by Ian Beers 

The following recent quotations might inspire and deepen our contemplative prayer both alone and together:

Quaker Peace Testimony

Quakers find our faith moves us to love rather than war, even when that is risky. In 1928, British Quakers described their experience of the spirit of Christ in worship:

“In silence, without rite or symbol, we have known the Spirit of Christ so convincingly present in our quiet meetings that his grace dispels our faithlessness, our unwillingness, our fears, and sets our hearts aflame with the joy of adoration. We have thus felt the power of the spirit renewing and recreating our love and friendship for all our fellows.”

Facebook entry 25th June 2026 ©️ Quakers in Britain.

Sue Derbyshire and Gail Ballinger of Winchester Julian Meeting recommended the following: 

Meditation practice can turn me into a sponge. The true nature of a sponge is that it gathers water and it releases water.   It does not hold onto, own, or create water.  In meditation I am filled with the grace of God, the flowing waters of life.  

Hence, the only goal I can truly name for my meditation practice is this :  to let myself be filled over and over, so that I can act as a streaming, saturated sponge, leaking Love in a dry and dusty world. 

From ‘Hands like   Roots ‘ Notes on an Entangled Contemplative Life ‘   ©️ Therese Des Camp. Published by Santos  March 2025.   

Prayer always moves something Matthew 17:20 :

Prayer is where mustard‑seed faith begins to grow.

Sometimes God moves the mountain.

Sometimes He strengthens us to climb it.

Sometimes He reshapes the landscape entirely.

But prayer always moves something.

©️ Jess Soames, Mission Aviation Fellowship. Used with permission.

In contemplative prayer we seek consonance not only on our own behalf, but for our dissonant world.  

The Cathedral organ was being tuned. Each pipe in turn was compared with another correctly tuned pipe, and adjusted. Most of the contemplative prayer group retired to a room out of earshot and listened to an article by Evelyn Underhill that introduced our meditation.  

One stayed behind in the chapel beneath the pipes. He said afterwards, “ The whole point, as it struck me, of the tuning of the organ is to create consonance out of dissonance; and I hope that we embody that.” 

©️Philip Tyers, Julian Meetings member.

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. 

Please send your contributions for publication on the blog to  https://thejulianmeetings.net/contact-for-blog/ 

We invite readers to suggest books for review, and are looking for further member reviewers. We also welcome key points you learned from books you read, whether published recently or years ago.

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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.