In the Autumn of 1831 a Russian pilgrim, called Nicholas Motovilov, made his way deep into the Siberian forests, to a remote monastery, to see a famous monk called Father Seraphim, later known to the world as Saint Seraphim of Sarov.
Seraphim had lived as a hermit in the forest for many years and had a reputation as a spiritual guide. Nicholas wanted to see if the saint by his prayers could cure him of a spreading paralysis. Which indeed he did. But Nicholas kept going back again and again to see Saint Seraphim. The love, joy, and peace that radiated from the person of the humble monk kept drawing him back.
On one occasion the saint spoke to Nicholas of the true aim of the Christian life. Nicholas had asked many people about this, and from them got the impression that the life of a Christian was primarily about going to church, doing good, or following the example and teaching of Christ. No, said Saint Seraphim.
The real aim of the Christian life is the acquisition of the Holy Spirit. The third person of the Holy Trinity, the Spirit of God, taking up his dwelling in us, and uniting us with God. That is the real aim of the Christian life. Everything else, prayer, fasting, the sacraments, works of charity, are means to this end.
This was a surprising answer for the time as most of the Church, east and west, was very much focussed on external activity and had rather forgotten about the depths within the human heart. The depths where God must dwell if we are to do the works of God. Indeed in those days it was possible to talk about the Holy Spirit as the “forgotten person of the Trinity”.
But this is what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel. The gift of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, is promised to those who love Jesus. He is the Spirit of Truth, and he will abide in us. That’s one of John’s favourite words, abide. It means a real, rooted, eternal presence, the place where you truly live. Jesus abides in the Father. And we will abide in Jesus. How? By the Holy Spirit abiding in us.
Now God is infinite life and love, and gives himself without limit. If that is the case, and God gives his Spirit to us to dwell in our hearts, should we not all be made saints straight away?
Well, in a sense, we are. The New Testament talks about all believers as “saints”, and our bodies as the temples of the Holy Spirit. We are made objectively holy by the fact of God dwelling in our hearts. There's a lovely story about Mother Teresa, when a journalist at some public occasion, wanting a story, thrust a microphone into her face and asked, “Mother Teresa, are you a saint?” She looked at him and smiled. “Yes”, she said, “and so are you.”
But alongside that we have to admit that God’s holiness manifests itself to a greater or lesser degree in the lives of Christians. When we stop and examine our consciences, we know that we are very far from perfect, and at every Mass we confess our sins. How can this be, if the Spirit of God dwells within us?
It is true that God gives himself infinitely, and holds nothing back. What limits us is our own capacity to receive that gift. The work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts is a slow, patient transformation. The slow undoing of our sinful desires, which close us in on ourselves. The slow expansion of our hearts to God’s Spirit. So by degrees the Holy Spirit transforms us more and more into his dwelling place.
This does not happen to us automatically, or without our co-operation. We have to align our wills to the will of God so we can allow the Holy Spirit to transform us. How then can we allow God to enlarge our hearts and fill us with his presence?
There is no new or sensational answer to this. Pray, receive the sacraments, live according to the teaching of Christ. Do this, and God will dwell in you in all his fullness, uniting you with him, transforming you into himself.
This requires, of course, a certain amount of discipline. In fact it needs that old fashioned and off-putting word, asceticism. But asceticism just means “training”. Like athletic training. If you want to get fit, you go to the gym or you go for a run, frequently and regularly. Whether you feel like it or not. Whether it’s sunny or raining. You need a dedicated, disciplined commitment to make progress.
And so it is in the Christian life. The Eucharist which we participate in Sunday by Sunday, if not more frequently, renews our abiding in Christ and his in us. Renews his divine life, the gift of his Spirit, in our hearts.
Our study of the scriptures, and particularly of the teaching of Christ in the gospels, is a constant means by which we are inspired and corrected and align our wills to the will of God, leading us from sin into holiness.
And prayer. Perhaps this is where most attention is needed in the Church today, certainly in the West. The culture that surrounds us, in which we are caught up whether we like it or not, is so busy and distracted, so frantic.
The gift of the Holy Spirit is given in our hearts, deep within ourselves. And we need to dwell in ourselves if we are to receive that gift. Our prayer life needs to be disciplined, committed, and above all to be built around a core of silence and stillness in which we are centred and learn to abide within ourselves, for that is where God abides, too.
The ancient practice of Christian meditation has undergone a remarkable renewal in the Church in recent times, and many people have found it very helpful. It simply is sitting in stillness and silence, and repeating a prayer word or phrase over and over again, focussing on the prayer word in the middle of the noisy distractions that our minds throw up all the time.
It’s simple but is hard work nonetheless. One Indian sage said that we all have a tree full of chattering monkeys in our heads, and when you try to be silent and still for even a short time you become aware of that.
The point of meditation is not to make the monkeys be quiet, because they won’t be, but to focus on a stillness and a silence that is deeper than all the noise and distraction. It is not about falling asleep, but about an interior waking up, about developing an alert, focussed awareness of God who dwells in those silent depths.
Those who have practiced this for a long time begin to show in their outward lives the presence of God who is in their hearts. As St Paul says in Galatians, “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” When someone is full of the Holy Spirit these fruits become evident to all they meet, spreading the grace and work of the Spirit among others. Saint Seraphim, who was himself an example of someone transformed by the Holy Spirit, said, “find peace in your heart, and thousands will be saved around you”. That was true for him, and by God’s grace it can be true for us too.
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