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The term contemplation is derived from the Latin word templum, which referred to a “space in earth or the sky set apart for the sacred examination of animals’ entrails for indications of divine meaning.” Hence the temple became the dwelling place of the gods and the place in which oracles discerned divine meaning and purposes. Contemplation refers not so much to place but to the “seeing into” or “looking at” the insides of reality. And what is at the source of this reality? Or what is the really real? God. So contemplation refers to the “looking at” or the “seeing of” God.

“Mary . . . was listening to the Lord’s word, seated at His feet.” (Luke 10:39, NASB)

In its broadest sense, contemplative prayer is being open to the beauty and power of God- basking in his presence and enjoying his company. No words or thoughts are necessary. It is simply allowing oneself to be totally captivated by God and resting in him.

If contemplative prayer is understood in this way, I would have to say I have been a contemplative for most of my life. Thanks to the cultural and familial tradition in which I grew up, I learned early on that I lived in a world that was saturated with the presence of God. As a young child, I was keenly aware that I was with God and God was with me, and the joy of being present to the God who was Presence to me has been the subtext of my life. 

This is a great article, with very helpful distinctions and encouragement for those who don’t  think of themselves as contemplatives—who struggle with prayer—to give the practice of contemplative prayer a try. Benner dispenses with the notion that contemplative prayer is  somehow a more advanced form of prayer. Rather, he contends that contemplative prayer is rudimentary and basic, involving a different, earlier kind of knowing that we may have used intuitively when we were young. In the same way that children do not need to be taught to observe tadpoles in a pond, but watch, silently attentive and filled with wonder, so can we attend to God—as we “become like little children.”

When we know through reason we make the world conform to our concepts of it. In contrast, an encounter with reality by means of wonder allows us to adjust our concepts of the world. This is what makes contemplative prayer transformational. When someone is known in love, words become less and less necessary, just as lovers can sit in silence for hours, simply enjoying each other’s presence and being filled up inside.

Prayer is often taught as a way to talk to God rather than listen. It is couched as something that I, rather than God, take the initiative to do. It is based in my ability to reason. Yet the truth is that our prayer is a response to the God who has already called us. And the essence of prayer  is not so much what we do as what God does in us. John of the Cross calls contemplative prayer “passive, loving receptivity—leaning toward God in faith with longing, openness, and love.” Benner calls this kind of prayer a dance in which the Christian allows God to lead him or her in the dance steps. He talks about these steps as having a rhythm, found in the process of lectio divina.

Contemplation and social action are often seen as two separate camps. In this article, Thelma Nambu shows how her contemplative life informs and is profoundly integrated into her work with women who are survivors of prostitution. Thelma is honored by her fellow Filipinos and addressed as Ate, a title of respect and esteem.

The theological concept of grace, as it has been received in the West, was profoundly influenced by the writings of Augustine, so much so that he was later referred to as the doctor gratiae. His thought on the subject, built on the earlier transactional language (“accruing merit” and “making satisfaction”) of Tertullian and his intense study of Paul, crystallized in his debates with the British layman Pelagius.

God’s grace comes to us by a variety of means. The church has long taught that the sacraments (baptism and the Eucharist), Scriptures, and preaching are means by which we experience

God’s grace. But this list could also be expanded to include the arts, the imagination, nature, friendships, and much more—anything that makes God’s presence a reality to us. Any gifts that reveal God’s truth, beauty, and presence become means of grace.

Yancey and Crabb talk candidly about the lack of grace in church and in society. They cite a poignant story about how grace operated when Yancey was present in a meeting with top Russian leaders to discuss how to restore morality to the country. It was there that Russian émigré and Christian evangelist Alex Leonovich forgave the vice chairman of the KGB and offered him a Russian bear hug even though Leonovich and members of his family had endured atrocities at the hands of the KGB.

Christian spirituality involves an interpretive conversation between the classics of the Christian tradition and contemporary human experience. It is a two-way dialogue, in which we not only bring a critical eye to the text in order to decide what we think is useful to our present situation, but we also aspire to remain open to the ancient commentators—allowing tradition to challenge and correct our modern perceptions. Bernard McGinn rightly states, “The past measures us just as we measure it.” 

Not much is known of the artist Duccio di Buoninsegna (1255–1319), but his art marked important changes in the painting styles of the period in which he lived. His work brought life, humanity, and new levels of expressiveness to the Byzantine style. Until then, Christian art had been static and austere. Duccio introduced a gentleness of style: draped fabric becoming less angular and rigid, more soft and flowing. Another new element was the way he enclosed his figures within an architectural interior, integrating them into his narrative more effectively than ever before. Washing of the Feet is a small part of a massive altarpiece that Duccio created for the cathedral of Siena, Italy. Called the Maesta, this celebrated masterpiece was painted on both sides. It was six-and-a-half feet tall and six-and-a-half feet long. Its numerous panels portrayed the story of salvation, beginning with the Annunciation, through the birth, life, works, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Twenty-six scenes depict the Passion of Christ in the center of the back of the altarpiece. In Washing of the Feet, the artist presents Jesus in his last communal act with his disciples before his betrayal.

Crabb engages us immediately with Nietzsche’s statement, “To grow wise, you must listen to the wild dogs barking in the cellar.” For Nietzsche, this meant the recognition of the desires that cry out from deep within us—the desires of purpose, immortality, and freedom, among others.