Contemplation is not a theological discourse in which a brilliant combination of ideas about God is woven, playing with premises and coming to conclusions. Contemplatives are above all, admirers. In their understanding (active verb), there are passive elements: admiration, gratitude, emotion. As a result, contemplation is in the same “harmony” as admiration.
It deals with that suspense full of awe that Paul experienced when he said, “How deep and rich are the wisdom and knowledge of God! We cannot reach to the roots of his decisions or his ways!” (Rom 11:33).
I would dare to say that, in a certain sense, the contemplative capacity in a person is proportional to the capacity for wonder. Because of this, the contemplative is never with himself or herself or turned inward. They are always in exodus, in a movement of reaching out and projection toward the Other, completely “ecstasies” and taken by the Other.
As we know, the capacity for awe and narcissism are in inverse proportions. Narcissism and childishness are the same thing, just like maturity and narcissism are on opposite poles. In ourselves, the inordinate adherence to our-selves causes reactions of euphoria or depression, unbalancing our emotional stability.
In contemplation, there is no reference point in the self: the things that refer to the self are not important to the contemplative. The only things that have an impact are things that refer to the Other. They are not elated by successes nor thrown by failures. Because of this, the great contemplatives are full of maturity and grandeur, with an unchanging joy, with the characteristic serenity of those who are in an orbit of peace above the ups and downs, storms, and troubles of daily living.
Contemplatives are submerged in silence. It is a silence full of awe and presence which the psalmist felt when he said, “Yahweh, our Lord, how majestic is your name throughout the world” (Ps 8).
Extracted from the book Sensing your Hidden presence by Fr. Ignacio Larrañaga
