Revelation and the Interior Life

I studied Theology and Philosophy in college, and I loved it.  Recently, I started to delve back into reading philosophy, and I still love it.  In fact, I forgot how much I enjoy reading it.  I posted the following on the members section of The Personalist Project:

In Christian spirituality we often refer to growth in the “interior life.”  The more I ponder this gift of the interior life, the more I am amazed by the very mystery of human interiority.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church states that the human heart is “the place of encounter.”  It is in our very interiority that we encounter the living God.  Because we possess interiority, we are able to be conscious of God, to communicate with God, to know God and his love for us.

It is because we possess interiority that we are able to receive the revelation of God; in fact, there would be no such thing as revelation without our interiority, for in order for there to be revelation there needs to be one who is able to receive it.

The deeper I enter into the mystery of my interiority, the more open I become to receiving the mystery of God’s presence within me, the revelation of his love.  The more I receive God’s love, the more my interiority deepens, expands.  As I become interiorly aware of the gift of God’s love, this pure gift that has been given to me, I become aware that I must become a gift to others.

This is the paradox of interiority in the Christian tradition: As I ponder my interiority, I do not become absorbed in myself; rather, I become aware that I am a gift to myself, and I must live my life as a gift.  The more deeply I am aware of my interiority, the more deeply I am aware of my capacity for transcendence.  From the depths of human interiority springs the capacity to both receive and to give.

A Pipe and a Prayer

“The world is charged with the grandeur of God” (Gerard Manley Hopkins).

I’m an extrovert by nature, but over the years I’ve learned to enjoy silence and solitude.  Truthfully, I think I’ve always had a contemplative-philosophical side to me.  I remember as a child laying in bed at night, driving myself crazy pondering what it means to live eternally.  As strange as it sounds, I also remember the first time I became conscious of my uniqueness. Again, I was just a child, maybe six or seven years old.  My family was getting into the car in the driveway, and out of the blue, like a self-conscious flash, I became deeply aware of myself.  The only way I could express it–and I spoke it audibly–was, “I feel like me.”  My sisters thought I was weird.

I wasn’t a very good high school student.  I failed algebra two years in a row (not two quarters, not two semesters, but two YEARS).  I simply couldn’t grasp it.  There weren’t many subjects for which I had a passion.  But I do remember surprising my junior English teacher when I suddenly raised my hand and correctly answered a question concerning the metaphysical poets.  I was just as surprised as she was, but something inside me enjoyed these poets who contemplated existence.  I went on to study theology and philosophy in college and continued to ponder the deeper questions of life and existence. Read more »

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