As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you;
abide in my love.
(John 15:9)

If the indwelling of the Holy Spirit seems wispy, if the love of God appears to be ungrounded in everyday reality, it may be helpful to remember the beautiful words of Pedro Arrupe, SJ:

Nothing is more practical than finding God,
that is, than falling in love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination,
will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you
out of bed in the morning,
what you will do with your evenings,
how you will spend your weekends
what you read, who you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you
with joy and gratitude.
Fall in love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.

- – - – -

More reflections for Ascension, the Feast of Our Lady of the Cenacle, and Pentecost

“Come, Spirit of Love” fractal art by Sister Rose Hoover, rc, and Apophysis

Should we be groping in darkness,
may it be only your cloud
overshadowing us
to bring us to birth.

Should our hearts shrink in fear,
send your tongues of fire
to make them bold.

And when the familiar has lost its welcome,
then breathe us into your future,
and be there
waiting to embrace us.

AMEN.

The following is by Sister Elizabeth Hillmann.  It was originally presented as a talk to the Christian Meditation group which meets at the Cenacle in Gainesville.  You can view the video here: “The Consolation and the Challenge of the Holy Spirit Praying in Us,” or on YouTube.

. . . . . . . . . .

We know from Romans 8:26-27 that the Holy Spirit of God prays in us, with groans and sighs:

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

However we are praying, in our weakness or our blindness or our selfishness, the Holy Spirit is praying In us according to the will of God.

This is a great consolation. What matters is that we pray, whether it be a groaning prayer, a rote prayer, any way of praying. We can trust that our prayer is transformed by the Spirit to be in accord with the will of God.

I love the words in Psalm 86:

Teach me your way, O Lord,
that I may walk in your truth;
give me an undivided heart to revere your name.
I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart,
and I will glorify your name for ever.
For great is your steadfast love towards me;
you have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol.
(11-13)

There is also a challenge to us to open our hearts and minds to let God heal our divided hearts. We can spend some time each day praying without an agenda, without seeking to achieve anything, without intending to look good in our own eyes. We sit and say a simple prayer quietly, even repeating it slowly, so that we are open to what God wants to do with us. We accept the mystery that God is truth and beauty and goodness and we entrust our whole being into the hands of God for this short prayer time.

Let us pray.

Veni, Sancte Spiritus,
et emitte caelitus
lucis tuae radium.

Why do we say “Come”? Isn’t the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Christ always with us? If the Spirit of God were not present in us, we wouldn’t even exist. The grace of God sustains us at every moment, and according to Meister Eckhart, “Grace comes only with the Holy Spirit; it carries the Holy Spirit on its back.”

So why do we pray, “Come”?

It goes without saying that we are in the realm of Mystery here, as we are whenever we speak of God, and in truth whenever we get up in the morning or go to bed at night. And we have only human language to talk about that Mystery. So when we say the Spirit of God is present, we don’t mean present in the way we mean that another human being is present. And when we say God is near, we don’t mean near in the way that this chair is near and that door is farther away. When we talk about God being near or far, we are talking about our human experience, and we are using human words to express something that can’t really be expressed.

One thing we are praying for when we say, “Come,” is our own openness to the powerful and mysterious presence of the Holy Spirit. The prayer itself expresses a willingness for God to take over our hearts and our lives.

Come, Holy Spirit, I am open to receive you (or at least, I want to be open to welcome you).

Come, Holy Spirit, I need you, and I desire to desire only what you desire.

Come, Holy Spirit, do with me whatever pleases you.

And, if you will, shed a ray of light on the dimness of vision and dullness of heart that hide you from me. Accomplish in me what I cannot do for myself. Send a ray of light divine: take away my murkiness of heart, so that I may know and love God. So that I do not remain immured in my own obscurity, my own fog of self. Teach me to see without seeing, in your clarity, even if that light seems to me like darkness.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay,
No angel visitant, no opening skies;
But take the dimness of my soul away.

George Croly, “Spirit of God, Descend upon My Heart,” Psalms and Hymns for Public Worship (London: 1854).

“We’re overbooked for that part of town and can’t take any more reservations,” I was told.

An injured foot discouraged me from taking the “L,” so I resigned myself to calling a cab, my least favorite mode of transportation — not only because of the expense, but because my introverted self, already frazzled from packing, is wearied by the forty minutes of relating one-to-one with the stranger in the driver’s seat.

So my Sunday morning began with the expectation of just plowing with determination through the day. God, however, is full of surprises, and ordinary events soon reminded me of the abiding presence of God’s Spirit.

The Spirit of God in the Taxi

First, the taxi driver turned out to be a very polite young man from India, and as a bonus, he was quiet, freeing me from the necessity of conversation. Along the way, we stopped at a traffic light where an aging woman approached carrying a corrugated cardboard sign which read: “I am homeless.” The taxi driver motioned for her to stop, and gave her a dollar bill or two.

I said nothing, but pondered this simple gesture as we continued toward the airport. Finally I said to the driver, “I appreciate your compassion toward the homeless woman.”

In his lilting English he replied, “I believe that we have to help each other.”

“We don’t know,” I added, “the circumstances that brought her to where she is.”

His response evoked the Sermon on the Mount, “It’s easy to judge, but we can judge wrong.”

One can argue about whether or not it really helps a beggar to give him or her money, but what was unarguable was the kindness of the driver.

The Spirit of God in Midway Airport

Since traffic was light, we arrived early at the airport, and I began the long trudge toward the gate. (Midway is no longer a small airport.) On the way I noticed a sign for the airport chapel, and almost to the gate I heard over the loudspeaker: “Catholic mass will be celebrated at 11:00 in the chapel. It will last one half hour.” This was obviously designed to lure the harried traveler.

Letting myself be lured, I turned around and headed for the chapel. When I entered I was welcomed warmly and asked to be one of the gift-bearers at the offertory. The liturgy began, and somehow the priest, whose 59th anniversary of priesthood was that very day, managed both to give a homily (which he promised would last only three minutes, and to reassure us, held his watch before his eyes as he spoke) and also to have us sing at the proper moments — and all in one half hour.

Besides the general atmosphere of cordiality and efficiency, I was struck by the words of the priest right at the beginning: “I am available to hear confessions after mass. If you’ve been away for a long time, you don’t have to give numbers and details, just a general idea of what you’ve done against God. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been away. And if you don’t need to confess, come anyway for the grace of the sacrament!”

Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But here in Midway Airport was the same Spirit which I met in the cab driver: a welcoming Spirit, non-judgmental and kind. My anticipated miserable day was turning out to be bright with the contemplation of goodness.

A final detail. There was one empty seat in the plane, and it was right next to me.

If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.
(John 14:15-17)

When I recounted my experience that night at the dinner table, I was told, “The Spirit remains a mystery.” Nevertheless, we do catch glimpses of the Spirit working in us and in the world — easing fear, moving us toward unity with God and with each other, increasing our faith and our love, leading us to freedom. Unfortunately, we can sometimes mistake the Holy Spirit for something else, and we can mistake something else for the Holy Spirit, so we need to look for the signs that what we experience is really the Spirit at work. As Paul says in his letter to the Galatians:

“the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things” (5:22-23).