When I was in Peru for our Columban General Assembly, we were in a retreat house situated on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. As we discerned the movement of the Spirit for the future of the Society, whenever I could, I went outside to listen to the voices of nature in our midst. During one of these listening sessions to the earth, I was struck by the bird song coming from a tree.
What I heard was more than beautiful birdsong. It was an invitation. The longer I sat, the more clearly, I could hear the birds speaking to my heart. They spoke to me about beauty, about home, about being in relationship, about gratitude for being heard. As I sat and listened, I became more curious about the birds.
This curiosity began to move me from my inner encounter of beauty to an outer one - one that impelled me to investigate how birds communicate. For me this movement from inner stillness to outer engagement has always been a measure of authentic encounter with Creator. Why? Because God is love and love is a verb.
From my research, I learned that birds have two voice boxes, called syrinx. Birds are the only species with this unique anatomy. This allows the birds to sing with two voices at the same time from the same mouth. When I learned this, I remembered Pope Francis' message that the voice of the earth and the voice of her people are not separate but, like the bird, two notes sung simultaneously of the same song. In my desire to learn more, I discovered that the world was mostly silent until about 500 million years ago. Imagine - a world without birdsong or any kind of song at all.
How does this relate to spirituality? For me this scientific information leads me to ponder deeply how God communicates both in silence and sound. It teaches me about evolution as an expression of conversion - both being slow turning wheels of God's love in action. It helps give me a perspective that is much longer in view than my short human inhabitance on earth.
In my view, often we confuse environmental crises like biodiversity collapse, and climate change as the cries. But if we go deeper in our spirituality, education, and imagination, we discover that in fact, the real cries are longing for love, respect, protection, and the ability to have life to the fullest. The crises are how we know that Creation is crying.
Just as an authentic spiritual experience must move me outside of myself, it must also move me into community. To continue with my story about the encounter with birds in Peru, not only did it stir curiosity in me to learn more about birds, but it also stirred me to bring the birdsong into our Columban General Assembly.
In part by sharing my encounter with the participants of the Assembly, our reflections and discernment about the future expanded from our Columban future to the future of all life on this planet. We reoriented ourselves properly as one thread among many in the web of life. In shifting our perspective, we collectively moved our communal conversion to deeper love for all of creation which is reflected in our mission priority to protect and restore biodiversity.
The stories I've shared are particular to me, but I am sure that you can find these movements of the spirit in your life. I encourage you to look for them:
- Inner to Outer - an authentic encounter with God always moves us between our inner and outer lives.
- Personal to Communal - as Christians we are a Trinitarian people which means that we live our faith in community. We are interdependent beings.
- Stillness to Engagement - The intimacy we experience of God in our hearts is meant to be shared with the world. If our stillness turns into isolation, then we have not experienced an authentic encounter with God.
Pope Francis reminds us in Evangelii Gaudium that we are constantly poised between the limitations of this moment and the utopian horizon which draws us to itself.
In our spirituality, we learn to live in this in-between space.
These movements are signs of on-going conversion that can help us discern our ecological vocation.
|
|
Comments (0)