P. Fernando Millán Romeral, O.Carm., General Prior
4) Contemplation
Various speakers who helped us during our reflections in the last General Chapter emphasized the importance of silence, contemplation, and spirituality for living our charism in fullness. We know well that this element holds an important and central place in Carmelite charism, so it is unnecessary for me to repeat it here. As an example, I mention that the document Ratio Institutionis Vitae Carmelitanae1 declares contemplation to be the heart of the Carmelite charism and adds (art. 23):
“The contemplative dimension is not just one element of our charism (like prayer, brotherhood, and service): it is a dynamic element that unites all.”
We live in an age of information, virtuality, and immediacy. News reaches from one end of the world to the other in a fraction of a second. We have immediate, direct access to a plethora of information. This undoubtedly has its positive value, and the Church has formally interpreted it on various occasions. Nevertheless, we are at risk of falling into troubled superficiality, a flood of unconsidered data, “information without formation” (i.e., which do not educate a person), a postmodern culture that focuses on what is light, and elevating realities that are empty, fleeting, not transcendent.
In such a social environment, more than in the past, there is a need for what the Carmelite charism can offer: a sense of contemplation, of spiritual depth. A Carmelite should be a person of inner life, depth, inner richness, a man or woman who, in the midst of the noise and rush of everyday life, the problems, and the contradictions of our time, can create inner silence in which God can speak.
Sometimes even we can be led by prejudice, hasty judgments, clichéd phrases, etc. Perhaps we should take to heart what Saint Teresa said to the sisters: “We must not think that we are empty inside.”2 The concluding message of the General Chapter in 2007 emphasized this aspect:
In the endeavor to become a truly praying community, our attention was once again focused on the value of silence (cf. Rule, art. 21). In our current world, despite the overwhelming noise, information, and news, silence is a matter of listening. As individuals and as a community, we need silence and in it to listen to God, to perceive the signs of the times, to gain wisdom and the ability to discern, and to adopt a contemplative approach. In the rule, silence was protected by specific regulations; we today also need support (through) the norms on which we have united so that silence can become a reality both in our communities and for individual brothers.
We could hardly experience a merciful and gentle God if there is no space in our lives for what is essential. And very often, what is essential is thoroughly buried under work, structures, habits, regulations, various selfishness, documents... When someone speaks to me about a “good religious,” I imagine (under those words) not only someone who lives in community, who prays the breviary, who does not neglect the celebration of the Eucharist, and who takes his or her vows seriously, etc., but also someone who is capable of loving, who can ask for forgiveness and forgive, who can take joy in what is noble and beautiful, is outraged by injustice, and can generously share his or her time, abilities, and life with others. Saint John of the Cross alerts us to this with simple but surprising words in his Maxims on Light and Love (59):3
In the evening you will be tested by love; learn to love as God wishes to be loved, and abandon your own nature.
And so, to know what is essential and to focus on it, it is necessary to preserve this spirit and such openness to contemplation. By some of our contemporaries, and perhaps even among religious persons, contemplation is considered synonymous with escape or with a lack of proper relationship to the social reality that surrounds us. True contemplation, however, undoubtedly never turns our gaze away from the reality around us, but teaches us to see it with new eyes.
As an example, we could mention the apostle John in the beautiful chapter (on the events) at the Sea of Gennesaret (John 21). The Evangelist, with the penetrating gaze unique to him, points out that the scene takes place at sunrise, in the morning light, thus between two lights... The apostles, who had labored all night, engage in conversation from the boat with a mysterious figure who speaks to them from the shore. And then John, the disciple who loved Jesus so much, joyfully exclaims: “It is the Lord!” The contemplative person is precisely one who perceives the reality around them and is able to reveal the mysterious presence of the Lord in our lives. The contemplative person does not look only upward, but also around them and “downward” to those in need, the least, the exiles of this world, and discovers in them that presence (of the Lord), more mysterious than anywhere else. True contemplation and true spirituality culminate in a stance of service and generous willingness.
Thus, a mystic, a truly spiritual person, a contemplative person, is inevitably also a master of humanity and compassion. And by the way he is and lives in this world, one can recognize God's mercy and tenderness.
These four elements are so deeply interconnected that the development of one usually influences the others. Those who deepen their spiritual life also grow in solidarity and apostolic service. Those who generously carry out their service find strength and inspiration for reflection and contemplation. Those who live both of these dimensions harmoniously and positively enrich the community and create an environment of mutuality (communio; cf. Statutes, art. 16–18).
May the Lord help us, therefore, to continue and grow in these four areas (in our efforts). May Our Lady, our Mother and Sister, further bless us and guide us.
