Recently, at Mass, on the feast of St. Dominic, the priest read aloud a short biography of him. A bit of advice to his followers included in the biography was the admonition to “bring to people what you contemplate.” These words struck me with great meaning and I’ve been mulling them over.
The things I absorb from contemplation end up perpetually in these letters to You – these letters about which I entertain conflicted notions of pride and humility in regards to sharing them. Exactly what is infused by You and what is simply from me is often fuzzy, but I do believe that the gift of light is from You. True infused contemplation is Your gift and, as such, Dominic was right. It should be shared. With deep and firm conviction I honestly believe that there are times when You speak to me in subtle whispers. This light is Your gift to me and what I do with this light is accept it and treat it as infused contemplation and, as such, it ends up in these letters which I share as my gift to You. That’s what I do with what I contemplate; but then there’s what I don’t do, but should.
I have come to some powerful and influential insights through Your gift of contemplation – things which touch me deeply and steer my life. Many of these things I am hesitant to share with people around me for fear of appearing proud or “holier than thou.” I hold fast to the idea that sharing contemplative insights with those closest to me should be entirely by the way I live my life, not what I say or write. But there is yet a most intimidating gap between the insights I think I have gained and the life I lead. I am, in fact, very often, not the person I think I am. My faults, my failings, my weaknesses, and my mistakes loom large and belie the “me” of my contemplation. It is thus my false self which I share. But I have hope that my true self occasionally shines through.