Tag: Reading

• What I look for when I read contemplative books

  I often get asked to recommend “the best” contemplative books. I’m happy to do so (see this post for a recent attempt to list some of the better books), but today I thought I’d do something a bit different.

  Instead of just rolling off a list of my personal favorites, I’ll share with you how I decide which books I consider to be truly worth reading, savoring, and sharing.

  There are a lot of contemplative books out there, and new ones are published every month. If you tried to keep up with all the new contemplative writing, you might be so busy reading that you don’t have time to meditate or pray. That would be a textbook example of “defeating the purpose”!

  So I’m all for being choosy about what I read.

  Naturally, I tend to look at the works of authors I already know and love, and perhaps I also pay attention to books that come from publishers I trust. And I’ll always pay attention to books that come highly recommended from a trusted friend, colleague or mentor (Brother Elias Marechal introduced me to Martin Laird’s Into the Silent Land which remains one of my all-time favorite contemplative books; another Trappist monk, Fr. Tom Francis Smith, introduced me to Cynthia Bourgeault’s Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening).

  But even if a book gets a lot of buzz on social media, is the talk of everyone at your centering prayer group, and comes from an author or publisher you know and trust, there’s still the question: what makes for a really good contemplative book? I’d like to suggest the following five criteria.

  1. I look for books that invite me to a new understanding. There are a lot of beginner’s books on contemplative and mystical spirituality (I myself have written one: Answering the Contemplative Call). I hope that authors and publishers will continue to bring out more books for beginners, because more and more people appear to be embracing contemplative spirituality all the time. And there’s nothing wrong with reading several books that cover the same introductory ground: we learn through repetition, as any monk will tell you. But most people probably do not need to read every single “beginner’s” book — on this topic, or any topic. So when looking for your next book to read, ask yourself, “What will this book show me or teach me, that I don’t already know?” If you’ve read three books already that stress the importance of linking contemplation and action, then you probably don’t need a fourth one that covers the same ground. Instead, maybe look for a book that explains the psychology of resistance that keeps many activists from becoming contemplative (or vice versa). This is just an example, of course: the books that bring you to a new understanding will be different from what I need or look for. And that’s good. Each of us must ask for ourselves, “What does this book have to say, that I’ve never heard before?” The easier it is to answer that question, the more likely the book will prove valuable to read.
  2. I look for books that challenge me to grow, expressed in a way that is deeply affirming and invitational. Spirituality — contemplative or otherwise — is a relational journey of growing closer to God, and being transformed by that journey. In other words, to be a contemplative means to be committed to personal growth — whether you are 19 or 90 years old. As anyone who has ever learned a musical instrument or embraced a new workout routine can attest, learning something new takes work — hopefully joyful work, but work nonetheless. Contemplative spirituality emphasizes themes such as reclaiming the sabbath, learning to rest in God, finding time for stillness and retreat — all of which imply that this is an “easy” spiritual practice. But it has its own dimension of challenge. It takes effort to start a daily contemplative practice, and ongoing perseverance to maintain it. It takes work to learn a new way of seeing and a new dimension of consciousness that moves us into a more nondual awareness of Divine Presence and interior transformation. And it definitely takes work to put the wisdom and insight of contemplative spirituality into practice: to become more compassionate, more committed to just and equitable relationships, more merciful and forgiving in our daily relationships, and so forth. Good contemplative writing will challenge us to grow in all these ways, but it won’t shame us for not being perfect today.
  3. I look for books that are respectful of tradition but not constrained by it. So much of the beauty of the contemplative path — any contemplative path — is the insight it offers us into the wisdom of the past. For example, I’m anchored in the Christian tradition — my mentors and teachers on the contemplative path and been almost entirely Christian, and so that’s the language I speak, the stories I know, the culture I inhabit. My journey as a contemplative is deeply enriched by the great Christian mystics: Julian of Norwich, Evelyn Underhill, John of the Cross, Meister Eckhart, to name just a few. I like reading Pema Chödrön or Thich Nhat Hanh because they offer me insights into Buddhist wisdom from the past, that I don’t normally have access to as a Christian. So when I look at a contemplative book, I’m curious as to how it engages with its own tradition. It might be so anchored in its own tradition that it is hostile to other traditions — I find that problematic, frankly. On the other hand, it might be so suspicious of the past that it lacks any real grounding in tradition of any stripe. I think that’s equally problematic. In my experience, the best contemplative books are aware of their own lineage, respectful of the wisdom and history of those who have gone before, but not afraid to occasionally question or criticize the blind spots of the past (for example, the long history of sexism in Christianity).
  4. I look for books written out of a deep fidelity to their own faith, while remaining respectfully open to other faiths. I mentioned how I like reading Buddhist contemplative authors because they teach me in a way that is different from what I normally get from Christian authors. But since I am a Christian, most of the books I read come out of the Christian tradition, and I suppose that’s going to be true of any contemplative practitioner — religions are like languages, and we always feel at home with our mother tongue. But as we all know, we live in an age of interspiritual exploration, and different people react to that in different ways. In Christianity (and I suppose in all religions), there are people who mistrust other religions, or are frightened by them, or simply want to ignore them. Unfortunately, those perspectives tend to undermine the generous open spirit that contemplative prayer engenders. So when I read a book that explores contemplative spirituality, I try to get a feel for how the author balances their fidelity to their “home” tradition with openness to the other traditions of the world. If the author is hostile or unfriendly to other traditions — or even to their own tradition — that energy of animosity will undermine the contemplative heart of their message. I think the best contemplative books remain deeply grounded in their root tradition, while expressing a generous hospitality to wisdom wherever it may be found.
  5. I look for books that are beautifully written. Writing is a craft — writers need to focus on making sure their work is clear, accessible, warm, and follows a logical path. We live in an age that doesn’t always respect the importance of good old fashioned excellence in the work we do (this is true in general, not just in spiritual work). Frankly, too many contemplative books that I have encountered over the years feature writing that is breezy, pedestrian, overly academic, or unimaginative. So I look for writing that is clear without being simplistic, engaging without being histrionic, grounded without being boring. But there’s more: good writing is not only well-crafted, it’s also an art — which means there is a poetry, a lyrical quality of beauty and wonder that the best writing embodies. Good contemplative writing is a joy to read — it dances to a silent music that invites us to find delight, grace, elegance and charm in the words themselves, but also in the deep spirituality to which those words invite us. I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that one person’s artistry will leave another person unimpressed. So there is an unavoidable subjective quality to this last criteria. I am reminded of the bumpersticker that says “Life is too short to drink cheap wine!” I think we owe it to ourselves to read books that contain writing we find inspiring, exalting, reverie-inducing, and simply beautiful and joyful to read.

  Obviously, “don’t judge a book by its cover” so in many cases we may need to read a chapter or more of a book before we can evaluate it on these (or any other) criteria. Back to my post on So Many Books, So Little Time — we have to learn the useful skill of setting aside books that we begin, but find don’t meet our needs. Or just read the first and last chapters. And then move on to the next one. When we do find a book that embodies all of these qualities, it’s one to read carefully and thoroughly, to savor — and to share.

  May 19, 2021

  Art, Books, literature, Reading, spirituality, Writing

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• So Many Books, So Little Time…

  Lately I’ve been posting on social media a “book of the day.” It’s a combination of new books that I find interesting (which I may or may not have read), along with an assortment of books in my library ranging from antiquarian treasures to more recently published titles.

  Here’s a recent example:

  View this post on Instagram

  The feedback on these “bookstagrams” has mostly been positive, although a few people have teased me that my posts are not good for their wallets! But then recently, I got this message from someone who has been reading my blog for a number of years now:

  Carl, I love seeing all the books you are adding to your library. How do you carve out time to read so much? My list of books to read is growing much faster than what I am getting through. Challenging as a busy professional.

  Friend, I feel your pain. So let me offer a few thoughts under the rubric of “So many books, so little time.”

  Walk into any bookstore and we are immediately faced with our own mortality. There are not enough days in a lifespan to read all the wonderful books that will cross your path. You could be the world’s fastest speed reader with the comprehension of the gods, but you still wouldn’t have time to get through all the great books of the past, let alone the thousands of new books published ever year (“thousands” is probably an understatement, especially when you take into consideration self-publishing. A quick Google search confirmed my suspicion that new books actually range in the millions, not thousands).

  And even if you are only interested in a niche — say, for example, mystical Christianity — it’s still clear that between the great works of the mystics themselves, new books about mysticism or other aspects of spirituality and theology, books in related fields like history, philosophy, psychology… we just can’t get through it all.

  So what do we do? Well, here’s what I do. Hope these thoughts might be helpful.

  All Books Are Not Created Equal

  I love books, which should be obvious to anyone reading my blog or following me on social media. I have almost every possible relationship with books — I read them, I collect them, I review them, I write them, I sell them, and I’ve edited a few. I’ve never worked directly in publishing, so I can’t say “I publish them” — at least, not yet. So, yes, I love books.

  I’m very much aware that, as an educated middle class person in one of the most affluent countries on the planet, I have tremendous advantages when it comes to books, literature, and writing — I have a library in the thousands, and have access to millions more books, either through libraries or purchasing. It’s fun having so much access to great writing — but, as my friend who wrote to me noted, it’s also overwhelming.

  Books are an asset — just like real estate or finances. We have to learn how to manage our money or our household, so yes, we have to manage our libraries as well.

  For me, the key to enjoying my library and not being overwhelmed by it begins with the simple recognition that not all books have the same function in my life, my work, or my spirituality. I have a different relationship with the Bible than I do with the writings of the mystics or works of theology or the novels of James Joyce or The Complete Calvin and Hobbes.

  • Some books I read for my work: research for my writing, or for upcoming speaking/teaching/retreat events that I’m part of.
  • Some books I read for my spiritual growth (since I write about Christian mysticism and contemplative spirituality, there’s a lot of overlap for me in “work-related reading” and “spiritual reading”).
  • Some books I read for personal enrichment — books on history, or politics, or science, or any other field that I want to learn about, but is not directly related to my current work.
  • And finally, I always try to read some books just for fun. Often here I’ll let my inner child (or teenager) out to play: I have a fondness for young adult novels, particularly magical fiction (I’m making my way through the Miss Peregrine books right now). But poetry, adult fiction, comics, and even “literary fiction” (here’s looking at you, Virginia Woolf) all fall into this category.

  Plus I have a lot of books in my library that are there strictly for reference purposes; plenty of art books, poetry anthologies, study Bibles, and many books that I’ve already read but hold onto either because I think I’ll read them again some day, or else they will be useful for my work.

  

  Here’s the key:

  We have to learn that it is okay to browse and skim books, and definitely okay to abandon books that simply don’t speak to us. In any of the above categories, there may be books that we only “need” to read a chapter or two to get what we need to get out of the book. Naturally, books I read for pleasure I am more likely to diligently read from cover to cover — but only if the book is actually bringing me enjoyment. I’m not one to bother with a book just because everyone else is reading it.

  So many books, so little time, remember? It’s just like you don’t keep spending time with so-called friends who are abusive or dishonest or untrustworthy. There are too many decent people to devote ourselves to. Likewise, books that are poorly written, espouse an unhealthy ideology, promote a toxic image of God, or in some other way are simply unacceptable: let them go! Too many books worth reading, to waste time on the duds.

  And even good books might not require a close reading. I read a story once about someone who was in charge of a prominent theologian’s library after he died — I think it was Paul Tillich, but don’t quote me on that, it could have been another 20th century theologian. Anyway, this person was cataloging his books for his estate, and noticed something interesting. The oldest books, which presumably the theologian had read early in his career, were meticulously annotated from cover to cover. But books that were newer — that he had read toward the end of his career/life — often were only annotated in the first and last chapter! Somewhere along the way, the theologian realized that, for many books, you could get pretty much everything you needed, the gist of what the author was trying to say, by reading just the bookend chapters. I haven’t tried this — yet. But it’s a great illustration that you can use books effectively without necessarily reading every last word.

  Then there’s the Japanese concept of tsundoku — I’ve written about this before — it literally means “to pile up books” and it refers to the practice of buying books faster than you can read them. While there’s a downside to this, ranging from clutter to hoarding, it can be seen as a kind of intellectual humility: a recognition that there are more books to read than time to read them, and that we acquire books not just to read but also to curate our intellectual and spiritual interests. I know that I will never lack for something interesting to read (I imagine that, reading several hours a day, I have enough books in my possession right now to keep me going for 20-30 years, which puts me well into my 80s!).

  Finally, I love the idea that books are meant to be shared. Loan them out, give them away. At the very least, take a box or two to Goodwill or to your neighborhood used bookstore a couple of times each year. I occasionally see my own books (that I’ve written) in used bookstores, and I see it as a part of the book’s life-cycle: someone buys it, hopefully reads it, but even if they don’t read it, they pass it on to someone else, either as a gift, a donation, or a sell-back to a used bookstore. And then the book can bless someone else.

  Yes, there’s a shadow side to tsundoku, to our affluence that means the average educated American has more books in their home than the average seminary library in one of the developing nations. We do have to be on guard against clutter, or hoarding. So I think it’s important to pass books on. If money is tight, sell some on eBay or get your trade-in value at Half-Price Books. But keep them in circulation, so your bookshelves not only stay neat and organized, but reflect your current interests.

  One final thought, especially for those of us who read as part of our spiritual practice. One of my first teachers in contemplative spirituality was a Quaker woman named Isabella Bates; she was an associate of the Shalem Institute where I took several classes in the 1980s. Isabella said something to me one time that I found challenging, but also liberating. She pointed out that, for many people, “One of our favorite ways to avoid praying is by reading books about prayer.”

  Wow. That struck pretty close to home!

  Note that this isn’t a challenge to stop reading altogether; and I think if I asked her, Isabella would have suggested that we need to be choosy about what we read. Curate your reading list carefully. Read just enough spiritual writing, or pleasure reading, or books for work or personal enrichment, to truly enrich your life. But then put the books down — and live! And for us contemplative/mystical types, that means taking time for silence, each and every day.

  Yes, you won’t read every book that looks interesting. But be choosy, and read the best books that appeal to you. That will be good enough.

  May 4, 2021

  Books, Library, Reading, Tsundoku

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• A “Top Ten” List of Christian Contemplative Books

  A reader writes,

  Wondering if you have an updated list of top ten books about Christian contemplation?

  Anyone who reads my blog knows that I have a fondness for publishing lists of books I love and like to recommend. For example, two years ago I published a list of Twelve Contemplative Books for Christian Transformation. I can’t recall that I’ve ever published a “Top Ten” list, at least of contemplative books. So let’s do it now.

  First, a few notes. I’m limiting myself to one book per author, even though several of these authors (particularly Martin Laird and Mary Margaret Funk) deserve to have more than one title in the top ten. But when the Beatles had five songs at the top of the hit charts, it may have been impressive for the Beatles, but it made for a boring list! So here’s one book per author, and if you love the one I recommend, try some of the author’s other titles.

  Also, you’ll notice not all of these books are directly about contemplative practice. They all touch on contemplation, although some do so indirectly — focussing instead on topics such as mysticism, silence or joy. This is intentional on my part. I think reading ten “how to practice contemplative prayer” books would quickly become an exercise in repetition. Contemplation is a very simple practice, really. So no one needs to read ten “beginner’s” books. Thus, my list does have a few books aimed at the absolute beginner, but then a few other books that approach contemplation from different perspectives: how is contemplation expressed in different ways in different communities? What is the relationship between contemplation and nondualism? What is the fruit of a mature contemplative practice? Read all the books on this list, and these are the kinds of questions you’ll be invited to ponder.

  With the exception of The Cloud of Unknowing, all the books included here were published in the 20th or 21st centuries. While I’m a bit of a history nerd, I don’t think you need to dive deep into the classical texts to foster a robust contemplative practice — so I focused on contemporary writings that address what it means to embrace the contemplative life today. But if you are interested in the history of contemplation, there’s plenty for you to explore: look at my Christian Mystics Bibliography for inspiration.

  Finally — one of the main problems with a list like this is, inevitably, just how many books (and authors) that are conspicuous in their absence. What, no Thomas Keating? Richard Rohr? Howard Thurman, John Main, Laurence Freeman, Thomas Merton?!?! The point is very simple: you can’t come up with a “top ten” list that will in any way be comprehensive. We are blessed with too many wonderful authors, teachers, voices. If I focused on the really good authors who I left out, then all the really good authors that are included on my list would be missing! So there’s no way I can win. I think part of the fun of creating lists like this is not only to help out beginners, but also to give long-standing students of contemplation something to think about (and disagree with!). So if your favorite book/author is absent, my apologies. Maybe they’ll show up next time.

  Okay, on to the list…

  • Martin Laird, Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation — when I recommend just one book on contemplative Christianity, this is it. Fr. Martin is the real deal, a scholar and a gentle soul, clearly steeped in his own long-standing contemplative practice. This book drinks deep from the historical tradition, but is relevant and accessible for today’s seeker. If you like it, read Laird’s other books; they’re all excellent.
  • Mary Margaret Funk, Thoughts Matter: Discovering the Spiritual Journey — this Benedictine nun has devoted much energy to reclaiming the riches of the contemplative tradition for our time. She has written five “matters” books exploring different aspects of contemplative spirituality; they are all excellent, but start with the first one: an introduction to the spirituality of the desert tradition, particularly the contemplative practice of non-attachment to our thoughts.
  • Gerald May, Will and Spirit: A Contemplative Psychol0gy — May was a psychiatrist who offered in this book a wonderful insight of how to integrate the wisdom of contemplative practice with contemporary knowledge of how the mind works. Others (like Thomas Keating) have explored similar territory, but May’s book of both succinct and comprehensive. This thoughts on the nature of consciousness are alone worth the price of admission.
  • Carmen Butcher (translator), The Cloud of Unknowing with the Book of Privy Counsel — Critics of Christian contemplative practices like Centering Prayer sometimes dismiss them as “new” innovations, not consistent with traditional spirituality. Laird and Funk should lay that objection to rest, but here’s a gem from the fourteenth century that reads almost like a modern-day introduction to silent prayer. Carmen Butcher’s translation makes this ancient text come alive.
  • Cynthia Bourgeault, The Heart of Centering Prayer: Nondual Christianity in Theory and Practice — Bourgeault provides an introductory overview of Centering Prayer, commentary on how it functions as a nondual contemplative practice, and — almost as a bonus — provides a detailed commentary on how The Cloud of Unknowing functions as an advanced wisdom text, inducts its readers into mystical nonduality: a brilliant exposition of the unique gifts of Christian contemplation.
  • Anthony de Mello, Sadhana: A Way to God — this Jesuit author from India wrote a number of wonderful books, but Sadhana is probably his most deeply contemplative offering; an almost seamless blending of eastern and western approaches to spirituality, this is a book of exercises that you’ll want to read slowly, savoring the wisdom and trying out the practices for yourself.
  • Barbara Holmes, Joy Unspeakable: Contemplative Practices of the Black Church — for the most part I’ve avoided academic books on this list, but am including this title for its importance as a corrective to how Euro-centric so much of the American “Christian contemplative” scene is. Holmes reminds us that there are more ways to be contemplative than just meditating for twenty minutes. An essential book for anyone who wants to appreciate the diversity of contemplation.
  • Sara Maitland, A Book of Silence — While not a book about contemplation per se, this literary reflection on the beauty and challenge of silence has much to offer anyone interested in Christian spirituality — for, after all, silence is one of the key elements of interior work in general, and contemplation in particular. Maitland is a gift writer and this book is a lyrical celebration of its topic, poetic, eloquent, and deeply insightful.
  • Evelyn Underhill, Practical Mysticism: A Little Book for Normal People — first published in 1914, this text is a bit dated (even its subtitle makes me wince), but it’s a gentle book that serves not only as a fine introduction to one of the great mystics of the twentieth century, but also effectively and accessibly connects the dots between contemplation and some of the more traditional language of mystics like John of the Cross and Teresa of Ávila.
  • Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World — many people today want to consider the relationship between contemplation and action, and many authors (Kenneth Leech and Richard Rohr leap to mind) explore this topic well. But I opted for this book because I think it’s important to consider how contemplation equips us for a life of service or advocacy. Tutu provides the Christian voice, and the Dalai Lama is probably the more deeply contemplative of the two — but the witness of the playful and delightful friendship between these two men (both of whom have given their lives to both spirituality and the struggle for justice) is profoundly inspirational. As a bonus, this is a living example of how Christian contemplation has a natural affinity for interfaith wisdom and spirituality.

  So there you go. Hope you enjoy exploring these books. Just remember: at some point you have to put the book down, and pray!

  April 21, 2021

  Books, Contemplation, Reading

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