AS WE saw last week, once we are able to glimpse the possibility
of the goodness that lies within us, the next steps and the goals
are easier to choose. They are lit up for us, whatever obstacles we
see along the way. Seeing is all; the sacred pause is the
thing.
This could seem a heterodox remedy for sin: unduly optimistic,
and placing the opportunity for grace in ourselves and our own
ability to keep ourselves from falling into sin or running into any
kind of danger. But Christians will know that the point of
Cranmer's prayer, the Prayer Book collect for grace at morning
prayer, is that actually we have little (or no, if you are very
Augustinian) ability to do this.
Impulsive types know their sins of commission all too well.
Cautious types might need to wait until the day of judgement, when
they may be shown the extent of their sins of omission before they
realise them. None of us can ever calculate, in this life, the real
effects of our actions, well- or ill-intentioned. We are not asked
to. We are not even required to be right. We are asked only to be
faithful.
So, knowing all this, how can we walk safely through the complex
jungle of inner and outer temptations that we are aware of - let
alone the ones to which we are blissfully oblivious?
Mindfulness brings the sacred pause into play. It is what it
says: the practice of bringing our attention to bear on the
present, so that we do not miss the obvious stumbling-blocks
beneath our feet because we are rushing towards a goal, or too
dazed by panic, fear, or visions of glory that we miss the reality
of what is.
Mindfulness is a philosophy and a practice that says that God is
realisable only here, in the present moment. It is both a
philosophy, because it sketches out a home for a certain theology
of God and the world, and a practice, because it is a discipline of
becoming aware before thought, movement, action, and speech, so
that it is possible to weigh up the possibilities, and make a good
choice.
Mindfulness has echoes in other disciplines. You will find the
same pause in F. M. Alexander's technique for realigning the body
away from "bad use", so that it moves with ease and without pain;
or in neuro-linguistic programming, which also heals people by
treating them as whole persons.
This pause is also central to the understanding that Gerald May
brings to understanding theological concepts such as original sin,
freedom, and grace, and their relationship to human physiology and
psychology, epistemology, and addiction. Dr May practised medicine
and psychiatry for 25 years, before becoming a senior fellow in
contemplative theology and psychology at the Shalem Institute for
Spiritual Formation in Bethesda, Maryland. His book Addiction
and Grace (Harper One, 2007) has this insight at its
heart.
At the root of all these approaches is the question of free
will. There can be a pause (Alexander called it "inhibition")
before making a habitual choice, whether it is to assume our usual
posture in a chair, or to soothe the day's disappointments with a
glass of wine. Here lies our escape from well-worn neurological
pathways and the mind's confusing chatter.
Dr May helps people to deal with addiction, phobias, and
patterns of unhappiness, by the first step of encouraging them
simply to stop. The stop creates the pause, which then enables them
to make a choice about what they really want to do next.
Experiencing that freedom is what we might call grace.
The Revd Terence Handley MacMath is an NHS Chaplain, and a
teacher of mindfulness.