Quédate con nosotros,
la tarde está cayendo; quédate.
¿Cómo te encontraremos al declinar el día,
si tu camino no es nuestro camino?
Detente con nosotros; la mesa está servida,
caliente el pan, y envejecido el vino.

¿Cómo sabremos que eres un hombre entre
los hombres
si no compartes nuestra mesa humilde?
Repártenos tu Cuerpo y el gozo irá alejando
la oscuridad que pesa sobre el hombre.
Vimos romper el día sobre tu hermoso rostro
y al sol abrirse paso por tu frente.
Que el viento de la noche no apague el fuego
vivo que nos dejó tu paso en la mañana.

Arroja en nuestras manos, tendidas en tu
busca, las aguas encendidas del Espíritu.
Y limpia en lo más hondo del corazón del
hombre tu imagen empañada por la culpa ■ de la Liturgia de las Horas

IV Domingo de Adviento

UNA MIRADA LARGA Y AMOROSA A LO REAL

(I)

Tessa Bielecki*

Deseo hablar de la oración cristiana no tanto en términos generales, sino como algo íntimamente personal. Es difícil ser lo suficientemente vulnerable para compartir lo que hay de más profundo en la vida de uno; no es fácil desnudar el alma propia. Pero sería aún más desdichada si dejara de compartir con vosotros al menos algo de mi práctica cristiana. Obviamente, la oración alcanza aquí un punto en el que se vuelve inefable, por lo que no se puede hablar de ella; pero yo debo limitarme a hacer lo que está en mi mano y llegar hasta donde me lo permitan las palabras.

Una de las definiciones más sencillas de oración cristiana que conozco se debe a san Juan Damasceno, el cual decía que orar es elevar la mente y el corazón a Dios. Otra definición maravillosa proviene de Teresa de Jesús, la cual afirmaba que la oración es "conversar de corazón a corazón con Dios, que sabemos nos ama". El término conversación puede llamar a engaño aquí; cabría pensar que la oración es sólo cuestión de hablar mucho, y no es el caso. Así como la conversación humana comprende períodos de escucha además de hablar, lo mismo ocurre en la oración que tiene como fondo la espiritualidad carmelita. Personalmente, a veces prefiero usar la palabra comunión: comunión con el Dios que sabemos nos ama.

La oración se describe a veces también como "un grito del corazón". Por supuesto, el corazón puede gritar de muy diferentes maneras. En la tradición católica, la oración comienza de ordinario con una exclamación verbal deliberada. A ese estadio le llamamos meditación. Nos servimos de un tipo de ejercicio o método para serenar la mente y centralizar la personalidad. Es como levantar los andamios para preparar la edificación. Luego pasamos a la contemplación, que es una etapa más pasiva y receptiva. Naturalmente, no me refiero a un tipo indolente de pasividad, como si estuviéramos esperando que pasara por encima una apisonadora. En mi comunidad usamos la expresión "pasividad sensata". Es un estado de alerta, vivo y muy despierto, como el gato pronto a saltar o un ejército dispuesto a atacar. Este aspecto contemplativo que luego se desarrolla se describe a veces como una conciencia amorosa y experiencial de Dios. O podríamos decir más fácilmente: una conciencia experiencial amorosa. En su Noche Oscura, Juan de la Cruz describe la oración contemplativa así:

Quedéme y olvidéme,
el rostro recliné sobe el Amado;
cesó todo, y dejéme,
dejando mi cuidado
entre las azucenas olvidado.

Otras descripciones incluyen: "Verlo todo sobre el fondo de la eternidad", y "un ensanchamiento del corazón". A mí me gusta especialmente está última, pues cuando oigo a los budistas hablar de su práctica, parece que tienen mucho que decir sobre la mente, y yo echo de menos oír hablar del corazón. Sé por los budistas que conozco que el corazón tiene su puesto allí, pero no oigo hablar de él mucho. Mi definición favorita de la contemplación es "una mirada larga y amorosa a lo real". Como estamos describiendo una experiencia tan enormemente densa, es importante cada una de estas ideas; larga, amorosa, mirada.

El momento contemplativo es largo; por tanto, no es un momento fugaz, sino que incluye interpretación de largo alcance; es amorosa, porque es participación en el misterio de todas las cosas, y es una mirada, porque incluye una apreciación de todo lo que es real.

Si restringiéramos nuestra oración totalmente a la meditación, al menos en la tradición carmelita, nuestra vida de oración resultaría terriblemente raquítica. De hecho, según avanzamos y crecemos más íntimamente en la unión con Cristo, dejamos de necesitar absolutamente el paso preliminar de la meditación. Juan de la Cruz nos enseña en la Subida al Monte Carmelo a discernir si ha llegado ya el tiempo de dejar de meditar y pasar a la contemplación, o si simplemente somos perezosos y no nos molestamos más en meditar. Describe también la necesidad de prescindir de la meditación cuando es el momento de hacerlo. Su instrucción reza: "Si encuentras la naranja pelada, cómela". No tienes que volver a pelarla. Es lamentable que el cristianismo tenga reputación de estar orientado a la palabra y la acción, pues la contemplación ocupa realmente el centro de la tradición. Aunque ha existido la tendencia a dejar en la penumbra a la tradición mística, en aras de otros elementos tales como el saber, la acción social y la meditación discursiva, para el católico sigue siendo entrañable la contemplación u oración no verbal.

* Tessa nació en el seno de una familia polaca de Connecticut. Como muchas jóvenes, creció leyendo revistas de belleza, coleccionando recortes de estrellas de cine y dando por supuesto que se casaría y criaría hijos. Durante los dos primeros años de universidad Tessa asistió a un retiro para estudiantes dirigido por el padre William McNamara. Después de terminar sus estudios y trabajar durante un año, se unió al padre McNamara y al Instituto de vida espiritual, situado entonces en el desierto de Arizona, a la edad de veintidós años. Desde entonces su vida ha estado dedicada a edificar y sostener la comunidad carmelita que se ha desarrollado allí. Actualmente ocupa el cargo de abadesa, y deja la vida eremítica varias veces al año para participar en retiros contemplativos y conferencias.

Ilustración: Jan van Eyck, Retrato de Giovanni Arnolfini y su esposa (detale), 1434, óleo sobre madera, National Gallery (London).

VISUAL THEOLOGY

Prophet (ca. 1390–1410), French (Bourges or Burgundy) or South Lowlands, Colorless glass, silver stain, and vitreous paint, 6 x 1/4 in. (15.2 x 10.8 cm), The Cloisters Collection, 1995 (1995.301), Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York) ■ Uncommonly refined and gemlike in its painterly finesse, this stained-glass fragment with a prophet is related stylistically to the work of André Beauneveu (1335–1401/3), a gifted sculptor, painter, and illuminator from the South Lowlands, who was employed by King Charles V of France; Louis de Mâle, comte de Flandres; Philippe le Hardi, duc de Bourgogne; and Jean, duc de Berry, among others. A close parallel to the figure style—particularly to the treatment of the hair and facial features—may be seen in the prophets depicted in the psalter of Jean, duc de Berry (Bibliothèque Nationale de France, ms. Français 13091), illuminated by Beauneveu about 1386 in either Paris or Bourges. A more striking comparison can be made to the limestone standing prophet wearing an apronlike mantle, probably executed by Beauneveu himself shortly after 1392 for the Sainte-Chapelle in the palace of Bourges. Although Beauneveu also designed stained glass for the Sainte-Chapelle, which was completed by 1408, it appears to have no direct connection to the present glass fragment, notwithstanding certain formal and stylistic analogies. The itinerant career of Beauneveu and his collaboration with other artists working for the same patrons make it difficult to localize the origins of the Cloisters' prophet. The original context of the present figure is uncertain, but prophets in architectural settings were standard in several iconographic arrangements, such as that of the Throne of Solomon, as described in 3 Kings 10:18–20.

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
My Spirit rejoices in God my Saviour
For He has looked with favour on His lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
The Almighty has done great things for me,
And holy is His Name.
He has mercy on those who fear Him
In every generation.
He has shown the strength of His arm,
He has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
And has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
And the rich He has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of His servant Israel
For He has remembered His promise of mercy,
The promise He made to our fathers,
To Abraham and his children for ever.
Glory to the Father,
and to the Son,
and to the Holy Spirit.
As it was in the beginning.
is now, and will be forever.
Amen.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Finally we are in the final countdown to celebrate the Nativity of the Lord, and today’s Gospel presents two such women. Mary and Elizabeth are bursting with anticipation, with expectation. Mary is a young girl, newly married, with a baby announced by an angel and conceived miraculously. Elizabeth is an older woman, one who thought her chance to have a child had passed. Her baby, conceived naturally, was also announced by an angel. The women know that not just their lives will be changed, but the world will be changed, and then they greet each other, and the baby within Elizabeth –the future John the Baptist- recognizes the presence of the Lord within Mary. Both women –and this is the clue for our Sunday liturgy- proclaims their gratitude to God for working His wonders within them[1].

Perhaps, as a final preparation for Christmas, we can spend a few moments reflecting on the great Gift God has given us and focus on the gratitude we owe Him. We cannot forget that great gift of Christmas is the gift of Jesus. A Christian philosopher –Soren Kierkegaard- told a very interesting parable to help explain this gift.

Once upon a time there was a king who was rich and powerful. The King was very unhappy, though. He wanted a wife to be his queen. Now a political marriage could easily have been arranged with another country but that is not what the King wanted. He wanted someone whom he could love and who could love him. Only real love could fill his empty castle and life. One day the King was riding through the streets of a small village when he came upon the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He immediately fell in love with her. But there was a problem: she was a peasant girl. The problem was that he wanted to win her love, not buy her love.

One of his counselors told him to just command her to be his wife. Any girl, especially a peasant girl, would jump at the opportunity. But the King would not do that. He could not command love. Another counselor told the king to that he should call on the girl as her King, shower her with presents of diamonds and gold, and give her the opportunity to realize that he truly loved her. But the King would not do that. A third counselor told the king to dress as a peasant so she would not be overwhelmed, and gradually reveal his power and position until she was ready to join him in the castle. The king did not like the thought of deceiving her. If their relationship was based on deception, how could she ever love him?

Finally, the King knew what he would do. He renounced his royal robes, his power and authority. He became a peasant in that remote village, living and working and suffering beside the other peasants. After a number of years, he won the heart of the beautiful young girl. He took his new wife to another village in another country, where no one could have guessed who he was. After many years, he became sick, and the wife loved him and cared for him. He died a peasant, but at his funeral the people looked at his wonderful, caring and in many ways extremely beautiful wife and said, “That man married a queen.”

Well, the lesson or moral of this parable is very simple: God is the King. He is the Divine Lover. We are the object of His love. Only God would love so much that He would become one of us to win our love[3].

This is the mystery that excites us. It is the same mystery that excited Mary and Elizabeth. They realized that they had each in their own way been chosen to be vehicles of God’s plan of love. Elizabeth’s son, John the Baptist, would point to this Love become flesh. Jesus, Mary’s son, would be this love. We also have been chosen to be part of this plan by the One who loves us and who calls us to make His Love a reality for others.

Today, my brother, my sister, with deep gratitude we pray: Lord of all love, you have come to us so we can come to you. You have become physical so we can become spiritual. You have embraced us with your Love so we can embrace others with your love. We thank you for choosing us to be part of your plan. We thank you for allowing us to join Mary and Elizabeth in the excitement of your Coming Presence.

We ask you now to give us the strength and the courage to proclaim your Presence with our lives. Amen ■

[1] Sunday 20th December, 2009, 4th Sunday of Advent. Readings: Micah 5:1-4. Lord, make us turn to you; let us see your face and we shall be saved—Ps 79(80):2-3, 15-16, 18-19. Hebrews 10:5-10. Luke 1:39-44.
[3] St. Ireneus, an early doctor of the Church, wrote, «Because of his great love for us, Jesus, the Word of God, became what we are in order to make us what he is himself».

Ilustration: Pieter Bruegbel the Elder, The Peasant Dance (detail)c. 1567, Oil on oak panel, width of detail 39 cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum (Vienna)

Madre del Redentor, virgen fecunda,
puerta del cielo siempre abierta,
estrella del mar,
ven a librar al pueblo que tropieza
y se quiere levantar.

Ante la admiración de cielo y tierra,
engendraste a tu Santo creador,
y permaneces siempre virgen.

Recibe el saludo del ángel Gabriel,
y ten piedad de nosotros, pecadores ■

De luz nueva se viste la tierra,
porque el Sol que del cielo ha venido,
en la entraña feliz de la Virgen,
de su carne se ha revestido.

El amor hizo nuevas las cosas,
y su Espíritu ha descendido
y la sombra de que todo puede
en la Virgen su luz ha encendido.

Ya la tierra reclama su fruto
y de bodas anuncia alegría;
el Señor que en los cielos habita
se ha ce carne en la Virgen María.

Gloria a Dios, el Señor poderoso,
a su Hijo y Espíritu Santo,
que amoroso nos ha bendecido
y a su reino nos ha destinado ■
de la Liturgia de las Horas

III Domino de Adviento

REGLA PARA EREMITAS*

Para los que vivimos en cualquier parte.
En el mundo o fuera de él
más allá de todo mundo
y en cualquier tiempo

TERCERA PARTE
El Recogimiento

34. El recogimiento es lo esencial de esta Regla. Se entiende por recogimiento la unificación interior de la persona en la Presencia de Dios.

35. Aún cuando no pudiera, por motivo válido, ser observado uno u otro de los artículos de esta Regla, bastará esta tercera parte para cumplir con ella.

36. Vivir de la Presencia de Dios en todo tiempo y lugar y someterle todo.

37. Estos artículos no se refieren, desde luego, a cuanto compete al cristiano en su condición de tal. Presuponen el llamado a la santidad y a la unión con Dios. En cambio apuntan al recogimiento habitual de los que perciben una especial vocación a la contemplación y a la intimidad con el Señor.

38. La Contemplación consiste en atender y adherir a la Presencia de Dios en el fondo, raíz y centro de nuestro ser. Teniendo en cuenta que ésta es una gracia, viva de ella y pídala constantemente. Recuerde que el contemplativo no conoce más o menos que otros, sino que –como decía un cartujo– es capaz de extasiarse donde los demás pasan con indiferencia.

39. La Contemplación no es un camino de conocimiento sino un llamado a una experiencia que trasciende todo camino o proyecto.

40. Disponga de un tiempo infinito para Dios. Practique, asiduamente, la Lectura espiritual.
41. Si, alguna vez, se hallara en un ambiente adverso y descubriera que los más cercanos son los más distantes, convierta todo ello en escuela de Caridad y aprenda a trascender, por lo alto o por lo bajo, las imposiciones de cualquier lugar.

42. No deje de combatir. Sea fiel y constante. Huya de los laberintos. La lucha es siempre saludable. Sea perseverante en las pruebas.

43. Silencio y recogimiento. Solo Dios basta. En un corazón puro no existen más disonancias ni distancias con Dios. Está abierto al Misterio y se halla en conformidad con la Voluntad del Padre. El auténtico silencio es propio de un corazón puro, semejante y unido al Corazón de Dios. Podrá, pues, vivir en un silencio completo cuando descanse sin reparos, como un niño, en el mismo Señor.

44. El silencio consiste, sobre todo, en callar para oír algo siempre más grande. Deje sus análisis y el alud de sus deducciones. Permita que el silencio se manifieste en su interior. Puede estar muy empeñado en todo tipo de actividades y, al mismo tiempo, gozar del silencio, que es patrimonio del alma y expresión de Dios.

45. No cometa agresiones ni abuse de cuanto pasa. Respete y no se apresure a responder o a intervenir en lo que sea. Mira con benevolencia. Todo está a su favor.

46. Libérese de todo lo que no lo atañe. No dependa de personas o de situaciones. Calle las voces que lo lleven a analizar en exceso. Busque su refugio y su auxilio en sólo Dios. Nunca será defraudado.

47. Corazón puro. Unificado en el Señor. Va a Dios por Dios. Dios mismo es su vida. Que la invocación del Nombre de Jesús le recuerde, constantemente, la Presencia del mismo Señor y su unidad interior e intima en Él.

48. Encuentre el misterio del desierto en su proprio interior y en cuanto eventualmente lo circunda.

49. Toda desolación o prueba podrá conducirlo, si así lo quiere, al Misterio de Cristo.

50. Es propio del solitario estar con el Señor en su Agonía. Ofrezca y consagre las horas y el sufrimiento consciente de su fecundidad ■

* Fray Alberto E. Justo, O.P.

Indeed, an essential function of genuine beauty, as emphasized by Plato, is that it gives man a healthy “shock”, it draws him out of himself, wrenches him away from resignation and from being content with the humdrum – it even makes him suffer, piercing him like a dart, but in so doing it “reawakens” him, opening afresh the eyes of his heart and mind, giving him wings, carrying him aloft. Dostoevsky’s words that I am about to quote are bold and paradoxical, but they invite reflection. He says this: “Man can live without science, he can live without bread, but without beauty he could no longer live, because there would no longer be anything to do to the world. The whole secret is here, the whole of history is here.” The painter Georges Braque echoes this sentiment: “Art is meant to disturb, science reassures.” Beauty pulls us up short, but in so doing it reminds us of our final destiny, it sets us back on our path, fills us with new hope, gives us the courage to live to the full the unique gift of life. The quest for beauty that I am describing here is clearly not about escaping into the irrational or into mere aestheticism ■ BENEDICT XVI, MEETING WITH ARTISTS, Sistine Chapel, Saturday, 21 November 2009

VISUAL THEOLOGY

Embroidery with the Annunciation, mid-15th centuryNetherlandish. Silk and metallic threads on linen, 8 1/4 x 7 5/8 in. (21 x 19.5 cm), Gift of Lois and Anthony Blumka, in memory of Victoria Blumka, 1990 (1990.330), Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York) ■ In the corner of an interior room, the Virgin kneels before a prie-dieu on which her prayerbook rests. The angel Gabriel descends at the left, greeting her with the announcement of the forthcoming birth of Jesus—the words stitched into a scroll-like pattern above the Virgin's head: "Ave [Maria] gratia plena dominus tecum" ("Hail [Mary], full of grace, the Lord is with thee"; Luke 1:28). This embroidery, originally part of an on orphrey (a decorative band on priestly vestments) or an altar frontal, is virtually intact. The selvages at the left and right are preserved, and the top and bottom have been trimmed only slightly. With its remarkably vibrant tones and shimmering silk threads, the scene can be appreciated much like a contemporary panel painting, a medium with which it shares many compositional and iconographic elements. This work exemplifies the celebrated or nué technique of Netherlandish embroidery, in which the gold not only provides a glittering appearance but also adds to the rich three-dimensionality of the pictorial surface. The setting, a modest domestic interior, reflects the trend in fifteenth-century Netherlandish imagery of locating religious experience, even the Annunciation, in the home.

Third Sunday of Advent

What should we do?” they asked the prophet John, the Baptist. “What should we do?” is the same question that we to ask to ourselves today, the third Sunday of Advent season[1].

And John the Baptist told them that going through the motions of religion would not be good enough: Their lives had to change. They needed to care for the poor and the hungry. The tax collectors were told to be honest. The soldiers were told to stop hounding people. Everyone was told to live his or her life sincerely, honestly, compassionately, with a pure and clean heart.

What should we do? How should we react to this burning within us, this presence of Jesus? Well, my brother, my sister, the exercise of Advent is to place ourselves in the days before the Lord.

I ask myself that question this Advent because the presence of Christ means more to me than ever before in my life. I am sure most of you also feel the same way. So, what should we do? What should I do?

First of all, we have to stop acting as though worshiping God was a boring routine, a chore that had to be completed to get into heaven. We worship God because we need Him, not because He needs us. We are united to Him to protect us from the moral diseases of our society. More than that, better than that, we are united to Him because we really love the Lord.

Second, we have to stop ridicule ourselves, thinking that we are not good enough or no worthy to proclaim Jesus Christ. So many of us do this. Many of you drop your children off for religious education or youth ministry and let the parish usurp the role of parents as first teachers in the ways of the faith. Many of you say, “Who am I to speak about God to my children? I have not always been a good Christian.” Allow me to remind you who you are. You are children of God, created in His Image and Likeness and redeemed by His Blood. You are people whom God loves. And just as a loving Father or Mother looks at their children and sees that spouse they love so much, God looks at your children and sees you and sees me, people He loves so very much.

What else do we need to do to proclaim the Presence of the Lord? John the Baptist makes it clear that we proclaim the Kingdom in the way we treat others. You, my parishioners, have been wonderful in the way that you have reached out to the poor of our parish area. Whenever there is a special collection, you are generous. These are important ways of ushering the Messiah into people’s life.

We also need to be compassionate and forgiving. We may forget all sorts of things, but we always remember hurt feeling, nasty words, and unjustified attacks. Many people who have hurt us want to come back into our lives. Cards or gifts are often their way of saying, “Please let me back in.” Indeed we proclaim the Lord’s Presence in our lives and in our world by letting go of the past and letting God’s love and compassion and forgiveness.

My brother, my sister, Christmas is upon us. How can we prepare the world for the Kingdom of God? We should rejoice. We should live our lives in the joy of the Lord. Rejoice in the Lord, always, I say it again, rejoice! Paul’s words to the Philippians in our second reading, and the Rose Candle and Vestments for this Sunday, remind us that we are people of joy. We need to provide others with examples of our joy. That is how we can help others prepare for the Kingdom. After all, joy is catching ■

[1] Sunday 13th December, 2009, 3rd Sunday of Advent. Readings: Zephaniah 3:14-18. Cry out with joy and gladness: for among you is the great and Holy One of Israel—Isaiah 12:2-6. Philippians 4:4-7. Luke 3:10-18 [St Lucy].

Ilustration: M. Chagall, Solitude (1933), Particular Colection.