Cynthia Bourgeault, describe cómo podemos seguir el camino de descenso que Jesús modela:
En Jesús, todo gira en torno a un único centro de gravedad… En griego, el verbo kenosein significa “soltar” o “vaciarse”, y esta es la palabra que Pablo elige en el momento clave de su célebre enseñanza en Filipenses 2:5-11 para describir en qué consiste “la mente de Cristo”…
En este hermoso himno, Pablo reconoce que Jesús solo tenía un “modo de operación”. Todo lo que hizo, lo hizo vaciándose. Se vació a sí mismo y descendió a la forma humana. Y se vació aún más (“hasta la muerte de cruz”) y cayó al fondo para regresar a los reinos de dominio y gloria. En cualquier circunstancia de la vida, Jesús siempre respondió con el mismo movimiento de vaciamiento, o dicho de otro modo, con el mismo movimiento de descenso: descendiendo, tomando el lugar inferior, no el superior…
Es un camino que él mismo recorrió hasta el final. En el huerto de Getsemaní, con sus traidores y acusadores amontonados a las puertas, luchó y se angustió, pero se mantuvo fiel a su rumbo. No acumules, no te aferres, ni siquiera a la vida misma. Déjala ir, déjala ser: «No se haga mi voluntad, sino la tuya, Señor. En tus manos encomiendo mi espíritu».
Así vino y así se fue, entregándose plenamente a la vida y a la muerte, perdiéndose, despilfarrándose, «apostando todo don que Dios concede». No fue el amor acumulado, sino el amor completamente derramado, lo que abrió las puertas del Reino de los Cielos.
Una y otra vez, Jesús nos presenta este camino. No hay nada a lo que renunciar ni a lo que resistirse. Todo se puede aceptar, pero la clave está en no aferrarse a nada. Lo sueltas. Vas por la vida como un cuchillo atraviesa un pastel cocido, sin recoger nada, sin aferrarte a nada, sin pegarte a nada. Y, arraigado en esa castidad fundamental de tu ser, puedes entonces entregarte, entregarte, ser capaz de devolverlo todo, incluso devolver la vida misma. Ese es el camino kenótico en pocas palabras. Muy, muy simple. Solo cuesta todo. [1]
Referencias
[1] Cynthia Bourgeault, The Wisdom Jesus: Transforming Heart and Mind (Shambhala, 2008), 63, 64, 70.
Material publicado en las meditaciones diarias del CAC , miércoles 16 de abril 2023
Uno de los ejemplos hermosos de la transformación de la sabiduría es cuando comenzamos a aprender a reemplazar la conversación binaria con la amplitud de la conversación en mosaico.
A menudo, no nos damos cuenta de hasta qué punto llevamos a la conversación cotidiana la suposición de que para que una persona tenga razón, la otra debe estar equivocada. Como resultado, contrarrestamos los puntos de vista de otros con una respuesta sutil, si no abierta, que busca reemplazar su punto de vista por el nuestro. Vamos de un lado a otro, como en un partido de tenis, y cada uno de nosotros controla discretamente quién ganó ese punto y cómo avanza el partido. Sin embargo, a diferencia del tenis, donde las reglas de enfrentamiento son claras y los participantes han aceptado lo que constituye ganar y perder, en nuestras conversaciones no hay reglas de enfrentamiento claras y nadie está obligado a reconocer la derrota, por lo que la discusión a menudo termina en un punto muerto que sirve para fortalecer a cada uno en la convicción de su propia posición y dejar la relación entre los contendientes incómoda, irresuelta y sintiéndose distante y desconectada.
En lugar de suponer que para que uno sea “correcto” el otro debe estar “equivocado”, podemos suponer que es posible que dos o más observaciones aparentemente contradictorias sobre la realidad sean verdaderas al mismo tiempo.
¿Cómo es esto posible? Se vuelve posible y obvio cuando reconocemos que hay muchos puntos de entrada a la búsqueda de la verdad, como muchas facetas de un diamante. Cada uno nos llevará a una perspectiva diferente de la verdad y cada uno tiene un derecho de validez. Al igual que el elefante proverbial que el ciego percibe como áspero y peludo cuando le toca la espalda y suave y terso cuando el ciego le toca la oreja, ambas afirmaciones son correctas, sólo que incompletas. La verdad es como un mosaico en el que cada persona aporta una pieza. No está completo hasta que se aportan todas las piezas y encuentran un lugar en la imagen, es decir nunca: siempre hay espacio para una más. Este es un ejemplo del principio de no dualismo, que es un principio básico de la manera de ver las cosas de la Sabiduría.
Nos escuchamos con curiosidad y apertura mientras se nos ofrece una visión de algunas piezas del mosaico que nunca antes habíamos considerado. Jugamos con la forma en que las piezas encajan, cambiándolas entre sí de múltiples maneras. Debido a que confiamos en que lo que decimos será aceptado y no juzgado, nos encontramos arriesgando nuevas perspectivas que nunca antes nos habíamos atrevido a considerar. Y como nunca buscamos contradecirnos, la palabra “pero” adquiere un significado diferente. En lugar de implicar “Lo que voy a decir contradice lo que acaba de decir”, simplemente significa “Aquí hay una pieza más para agregar a la imagen”. Los conversadores de sabiduría describen esto como “pensamiento y/o ambos”. Me gusta pensar en ello como “pensamiento arcoíris”. En lugar de limitar nuestro pensamiento a la suposición de que sólo se ve en términos de blanco y negro, permitimos que se abra un arco iris de posibilidades que no tiene fin en sutilezas y facetas.
El resultado de este enfoque en los círculos de conversación sobre sabiduría es que la discusión nos acerca más, en lugar de construir un muro entre nosotros. Salimos sintiéndonos más conectados unos con otros, sintiendo que todos somos, como las piezas del mosaico de nuestra discusión, parte de algo mucho más grande que nosotros mismos. Esto es un principio básico de la transformación de la Sabiduría. Lo que he descrito hasta ahora puede denominarse “la forma sabia de ver o de conocer” o pudiéramos expresarlo como “el Camino de la Sabiduría de Conocer”.
Ahora bien, ¿Cuál es el Camino Sabiduria de Amar? A medida que interactuamos unos con otros de esta manera abierta y sin prejuicios, no sólo se abren nuestras mentes, sino también nuestros corazones. Debido a que nos sentimos escuchados y en lugar de contradecirnos o descartarnos, llegamos a confiar cada vez más unos en otros y queremos construir nuestras relaciones. Y como nos escuchamos unos a otros y nos esforzamos por ver el mundo a través de los ojos de los demás, en realidad sentimos más compasión unos por otros. A medida que crecen la confianza y el respeto mutuos, a pesar de las diferencias, poco a poco se convierten en una celebración de las diferencias y en un aprecio mutuo; en otras palabras, en el amor incondicional. Y a medida que la capacidad de amor incondicional se extiende por todo el grupo, nuestra tendencia a juzgarnos a nosotros mismos se reduce al mismo tiempo que nuestra tendencia a juzgarnos unos a otros. Esta reducción del juicio sobre uno mismo conduce al coraje de asumir más riesgos al compartir nuestra autenticidad unos con otros en una espiral continua de reducción del juicio hacia nosotros mismos y hacia los demás y un aumento de la capacidad de amor incondicional. Así, los principios de nuestra bondad básica y de nuestra interconexión que son fundamentales para el Camino de la Sabiduría de Conocer se afirma en forma vivencial y se convierte en el Camino de la Sabiduría de Amar. Nuestra experiencia afirma que cuando el acceso a nuestro corazón no está bloqueado por todas las defensas que levantamos para protegernos, naturalmente buscamos conexión y sentimos compasión unos por otros. Cuando ya no nos sentimos aislados, vulnerables y separados, podemos sentir la realidad de nuestra interconexión.
Suena muy parecido a la enseñanza básica de Jesús, ¿no es así? Amar a nuestro prójimo como a nosotros mismos. Sólo que en lugar de ser un principio moral, un “debería” por el que debemos trabajar, se convierte en el resultado natural de la transformación de la Sabiduría porque el mecanismo está integrado. Así es como estamos hechos. Sólo tenemos que acceder a él.
Centering Prayer is a devotional practice, placing ourselves in God’s presence and quieting our minds and hearts, but as Cynthia Bourgeault explains, it doesn’t only work on that level. What the desert abbas and ammas, the author of the Cloud of Unknowing, and even Thomas Keating could not have known when he formally started teaching the practice five decades ago, was that it works on a physiological level as well, strengthening neural pathways, and making “letting go” that much easier. When it comes to releasing our strong preferences, especially our desire for power and control, it seems safe to say that some practice of kenosis is necessary for any movement forward.
The theological basis for Centering Prayer lies in the principle of kenosis, Jesus’s self-emptying love that forms the core of his own self-understanding and life practice. . . .
The gospels themselves make clear that [Jesus] is specifically inviting us to this journey and modeling how to do it. Once you see this, it’s the touchstone throughout all his teaching: Let go! Don’t cling! Don’t hoard! Don’t assert your importance! Don’t fret. “Do not be afraid, little flock, it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom!” (Luke 12:32). And it’s this same core gesture we practice in Centering Prayer: thought by thought by thought. You could really summarize Centering Prayer as kenosis in meditation form. . . .
Fascinating confirmation that kenosis is indeed an evolutionary human pathway is emerging from—of all places—recent discoveries in neuroscience. From fMRI data collected primarily by the California-based HeartMath Institute, you can now verify chapter and verse that how you respond to a stimulus in the outer world determines which neural pathways will be activated in your brain, and between your brain and your heart. If you respond with any form of initial negativity (which translates physiologically as constriction)—freezing, bracing, clinging, clenching, and so on—the pathway illumined leads to your amygdala (or “reptilian brain,” as it’s familiarly known) . . . which controls a repertory of highly energized fight-or-flight responses. If you can relax into a stimulus—opening, softening, yielding, releasing—the neural pathway leads through the more evolutionarily advanced parts of your forebrain and, surprisingly, brings brain and heart rhythms into entrainment. . . .
Every time we manage to let go of a thought in Centering Prayer, “consenting to the presence and action of God within,” the gesture is actually physically embodied. It’s not just an attitude; something actually “drops and releases” in the solar plexus region of your body, a subtle but distinct form of interior relaxation. . . . And in time, this gentle and persistent “inner aerobics,” undertaken under the specific banner of Centering Prayer and in solidarity with Jesus’s own kenotic path, will gradually establish that “mind of Christ” within you as your own authentic self.
We invite you to spend some time today practicing “letting go” through Centering Prayer or another practice of kenosis.
Contemplation in it, has a wonderful dimension, a prayer meaning, that you are called from the other side. You are not the active agent. You are dancing with an invisible partner, but you are not dancing solo and you are not doing it.
Contemplation on the traditional way in the orthodox branch of Christianity it is being absorbed more and more deeply. An sample or an image, when you worship with an icon and you are looking at the eye balls of Jesus and all of the sudden you have the feeling distinct that Jesus is looking at you, and then you and the icon disappears, and then you drop at some kind of portal at the cave of your heart.
Contemplation is a relational event that drops you finally into that deeper level of being absorbed in something that your mind cannot comprehend and get in top by itself.
Your practice cannot get on top, but you are met and that is the shade of difference.
Oneness, Session 3: The Secret Embrace – Thomas Keating’s Poetry, with Cynthia Bourgeault
Hope is the main impulse of life. —Ilia Delio, OSF [1]
Because we are so quickly led to despair, most of us cannot endure suffering for long without some sliver of hope or meaning. However, it is worth asking ourselves about where our hope lies. My friend and colleague Cynthia Bourgeault makes a powerful distinction between what she calls ordinary hope, “tied to outcome . . . . an optimistic feeling . . . because we sense that things will get better in the future” and mystical hope “that is a complete reversal of our usual way of looking at things. Beneath the ‘upbeat’ kind of hope that parts the seas and pulls rabbits out of hats, this other hope weaves its way as a quiet, even ironic counterpoint.” She writes,
We might make the following observations about this other kind of hope, which we will call mystical hope. In contrast to our usual notions of hope:
Mystical hope is not tied to a good outcome, to the future. It lives a life of its own, seemingly without reference to external circumstances and conditions.
It has something to do with presence—not a future good outcome, but the immediate experience of being met, held in communion, by something intimately at hand.
It bears fruit within us at the psychological level in the sensations of strength, joy, and satisfaction: an “unbearable lightness of being.” But mysteriously, rather than deriving these gifts from outward expectations being met, it seems to produce them from within. . .
[It] is all too easy to understate and miss that hope is not intended to be an extraordinary infusion, but an abiding state of being. We lose sight of the invitation—and in fact, our responsibility, as stewards of creation—to develop a conscious and permanent connection to this wellspring. We miss the call to become a vessel, to become a chalice into which this divine energy can pour; a lamp through which it can shine. . . .
We ourselves are not the source of that hope; we do not manufacture it. But the source dwells deeply within us and flows to us with an unstinting abundance, so much so that in fact it might be more accurate to say we dwell within it. . . .
The good news is that this deeper current does exist and you actually can find it. . . . For me the journey to the source of hope is ultimately a theologicaljourney: up and over the mountain to the sources of hope in the headwaters of the Christian Mystery. This journey to the wellsprings of hope is not something that will change your life in the short range, in the externals. Rather, it is something that will change your innermost way of seeing. From there, inevitably, the externals will rearrange. . . .
The journey to the wellsprings of hope is really a journey toward the center, toward the innermost ground of our being where we meet and are met by God. [1] Delio, Ilia, “Hope in a Time of Crisis,” The Omega Center, March 9, 2020, www.omegacenter.info/hope-in-a-time-of-crisis/
From Cynthia Bourgeault:
Fr. Thomas Keating and Cynthia Bourgeault
Thomas Keating has been my teacher, friend, and spiritual mentor for more than thirty years. It is he who laid the spiritual foundations of both my teaching and my practice and who launched me on my own path as a spiritual teacher and writer. He will be remembered as one of the giants of contemporary contemplative spirituality, not only for his groundbreaking work in Centering Prayer—which made contemplation truly accessible to Christian lay people for the first time—but also for the breadth and depth of his interspiritual vision, which kept growing in luminosity and compassion right up to his very last breath. I have never witnessed a more triumphant and powerful conscious death, modeling for us all the wingspan of spirit that can dwell in a life courageously and recklessly tossed to the winds of God.
“Seeing with the Eye of the Heart: a.k.a: The Contemplative Way of Knowing”
Nowadays people tend to hear the word “contemplative” as simply the Christian equivalent of what most the world knows as “meditation” —i.e., stilling the mind and resting in the flow of consciousness. But in the original understanding of the early Church Fathers, contemplation was primarily a way of luminous knowledge— “knowledge impregnated by love,” as St. John Chrysostom famously characterized it. Cynthia’s talk will explore this profound Christian intuition that contemplation is indeed a way of knowing—in fact, arguably the closest equivalent to what we now call Nondual perception. Drawing on insights from the Hesychastic Tradition of the Christian East as well as the Western medieval spiritual classic The Cloud of Unknowing Cynthia will explore what is arguably the key Western contribution to our understanding of Nonduality: that it is not accessed by the mind alone (mind understood here as “brain”), but requires “putting the mind in the heart,” an instruction to be taken not merely as a metaphor but as an actual physiology of transformation. We will see why indeed—in the memorable words of Antoine de Saint Exupery—that “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
The following audio teaching was recorded at an event presented by the Cathedral of St. Philip and Contemplative Outreach Atlanta, on March 17, 2018
Cynthia presented on her book The Heart of Centering Prayer. This day-long conference included lectures, discussion and question & answer, and time for centering prayer itself.
Cynthia Bourgeault explains the foundational principles of the Law of Three:
In every new arising there are three forces involved: affirming, denying, and reconciling.
The interweaving of the three produces a fourth in a new dimension.
Affirming, denying, and reconciling are not fixed points or permanent essence attributes, but can and do shift and must be discerned situationally.
Solutions to impasses or sticking points generally come by learning how to spot and mediate third force, which is present in every situation but generally hidden.
Let’s consider a simple example. A seed, as Jesus said, “unless it falls into the ground and dies, remains a single seed” (see John 12:24). If this seed does fall into the ground, it enters a sacred transformative process. Seed, the first or “affirming” force, meets ground, the second or “denying” force (and at that, it has to be moist ground, water being its most critical first component). But even in this encounter, nothing will happen until sunlight, the third or “reconciling” force, enters the equation. Then among the three they generate a sprout, which is the actualization of the possibility latent in the seed—and a whole new “field” of possibility.
The Paschal Mystery is another example, with affirming as Jesus the human teacher of the path of love; denying as the crucifixion and the forces of hatred driving it; and reconciling as the principle of self-emptying, or kenotic love willingly engaged. The fourth, new arising revealed through this weaving is the Kingdom of Heaven, visibly manifest in the very midst of human cruelty and brokenness.
Imagine how the energies of our planet would shift if we as Christians took seriously our obligation to work with the Law of Three as our fundamental spiritual praxis. Face to face with the vast challenges of our times—environmental, economic, political—we would avoid making judgments (because according to the Law of Three, denying force is a legitimate player in every equation), set our sights higher than “winners and losers” (or even negotiated compromise), and instead strive in all situations to align our minds and hearts with third force.
Third force is not easy to attune to because our usual consciousness is skewed toward the binary, toward “either/or.” The dualistic mind lacks both the sensitivity and the actual physical capacity to stay present to third force, which requires an established ability to live beyond the opposites. The capacity to recognize and consciously mediate third force belongs to what we would now call unitive or nondual consciousness, “the mind of Christ.” Consistent contemplative practice is a non-negotiable in developing the alert and flexible presence that can midwife third force.
Richard Rohr Meditation: The Law of Three
The Law of Three
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Adapted from
Cynthia Bourgeault, The Holy Trinity and the Law of Three (Shambhala Publications, Inc.: 2013), 16, 24-25, 32, 74, 206-207; and