But curiosity killed the cat. It can also change your
life.
By the time Alpha ended I’d recovered from the shock
of turning 50. The crematorium was fading into the distance. The urgency for
taking out a heavenly insurance policy was fading.
At least at this stage I knew what I didn’t want. Topping
the list was a chocolate-box Jesus looking like an Englishman in a nativity
play. The model for soap powder ads. The ultra-white version who still holds sway
in many township churches. (Tell some folk the historic Jesus had an olive skin
as well as a prominent nose and they cringeJ.)
Fortunately my avid reading revealed a Jesus I was
warming to. I liked the man who knew the
difference between quality and lousy wine. (Remember I was in PR, that first
miracle was invaluable branding.) I was impressed by a guy who spoke truth to
power, got seriously irritated, wept and attended dinner parties. I loved that
he ignored class and cultural differences.
Mind you, I wasn’t ready to go the ‘Jesus on a Harley’
route – it was only when I became chaplain to a bike club many years later that
that image could work.
With Alpha behind me I finally hit the main road to
Damascus.
At that time my spiritual director and her husband
launched the first Open Door Retreat at the parish and invited me to
participate. I’d got used to giving up one evening a week for Alpha so I
reasoned ‘what the hell’ and signed on.
Introduced to South Africa by Father Andrew, a CR monk,
the retreats were designed for people too busy to actually take time out at a
retreat house or with a religious community. They are based on the spiritual exercises of St Ignatius and the format is very much about finding God in
the hurly burly and realities of your own life. Praying as one can, not as one
can’t.
For me it turned out to be much praying in the bath
and not worrying about what Jesus could see.
Open Door groups range between 12 and seven and the
retreat runs for nine consecutive weeks. You are given 15 minute daily
spiritual exercise. For example, in the first week we were asked to take
special notice of God’s loving creation. While the others took walks, gardened
and made trips out of town, I invested in a pair of binoculars and checked out
the large tree at the bottom of my garden – wine glass on hand.
It worked for me. As did experiencing
religion/spirituality within a real life context. It says something that of our
group of seven 3 became priests (including me!)
This brings me to something I come across quite a lot.
The perception that God needs to be approached like an eastern potentate -
crawling on our knees, beating our breasts. An extrovert bishop once shared
with me how he felt far holier at a school assembly of 1000 boys than in solitude.
I can identify. Felt it at a U2 concert in Cape Town.
Of course it’s imperative to make space and time for
prayer and self-audits. As Dag
Hammerskjold, former UN Secretary-General, pointed out, ‘an un-reflected life
is a wasted life.’ But time is a precious
commodity which makes the gym, the loo and your local coffee shop all
okay. Whatever rocks your boat.
I’d love your comments. I notice most readers respond on
my Facebook page and that’s also very welcome. Some, I suspect don’t
respond because you are asked to ‘sign on’. That’s just to filter out weirdos,
your information is not passed to marketers.
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