Parintele franciscan Richard RohrCredinta Parintelui Richard Rohr – un franciscan care ne este contemporan.
Parintele Boris vorbea in cartea sa, Jertfa Crucii in Liturghie si Apocalipsa despre ortodoxia supraconfesionala – incep sa inteleg mai bine urmarind gandurile Parintelui Richard. Un dar de Craciun, pe blog.
I believe in mystery and multiplicity. To religious believers this may sound almost pagan. But I don’t think so. My very belief and experience of a loving and endlessly creative God has led me to trust in both.
Cred in mister si in multiplicitate. Pentru un credincios asta ar putea sa sune aproape pagan. Zic ca nu-i asa. O viata de credinta intr-un Dumnezeu iubitor si vesnic ziditor m-au condus sa cred in amandoua.
I’ve had the good fortune of teaching and preaching across much of the globe, while also struggling to make sense of my experience in my own tiny world. This life journey has led me to love mystery and not feel the need to change it or make it un-mysterious. This has put me
at odds with many other believers I know who seem to need explanations for everything.
Am avut norocul sa invat si sa-i invat pe altii cam pe toata suprafata Pamantului – si in acelasi timp m-am luptat sa dau sens experientei mele in mica mea lume. Aceasta calatorie de o viata m-a condus sa iubesc misterul – sa nu simt nevoia de a-l schimba, sau de a-l face lipsit de el insusi. Asta m-a cam pus la cutite cu cei ce simt nevoia sa explice orice.
Religious belief has made me comfortable with ambiguity. „Hints and guesses,” as T.S. Eliot would say. I often spend the season of Lent in a hermitage, where I live alone for the whole 40 days. The more I am alone with the Alone, the more I surrender to ambivalence, to happy contradictions and seeming inconsistencies in myself and almost everything else, including God. Paradoxes don’t scare me anymore.
Credinta mea religioasa m-a facut sa ma simt foarte bine in prezenta ambiguitatii – Hints and guesses (Aluzii, nimereli ?), cum ar spune T. S. Eliot. Imi petrec des vremea Postului Mare intr-o sihastrie unde traiesc singur timp de patruzeci de zile. Si cu cat sunt mai singur cu Singurul, cu atat ma predau ambivalentei, fericitelor contradictii si inconsistente – din mine insumi, din oricine si orice, chiar din Dumnezeu.
When I was young, I couldn’t tolerate such ambiguity. My education had trained me to have a lust for answers and explanations. Now, at age 63, it’s all quite different. I no longer believe this is a quid pro quo universe — I’ve counseled too many prisoners, worked with too many failed marriages, faced my own dilemmas too many times and been loved gratuitously after too many failures.
Cand eram tanar nu puteam sa tolerez o astfel de ambiguitate. Educatia ma antrenase sa fiu insetat de intrebari si explicatii. Acum, la saizeci si trei de ani, sunt cu totul altfel. Nu mai cred in existenta unui univers quid-pro-quo – am sfatuit prea multi detinuti, am lucrat cu prea multe casnicii ratate, am fost pus in fata propriilor mele dileme de prea multe ori si am fost indragit de prea multe ori cand am dat gres.
Whenever I think there’s a perfect pattern, further reading and study reveal an exception. Whenever I want to say „only” or „always,” someone or something proves me wrong. My scientist friends have come up with things like „principles of uncertainty” and dark holes.
They’re willing to live inside imagined hypotheses and theories. But many religious folks insist on answers that are always true. We love closure, resolution and clarity, while thinking that we are people of „faith”! How strange that the very word „faith” has come to mean its exact opposite.
De cate ori cred ca am gasit un model perfect, citind mai mult, studiind mai mult, ajung sa gasesc ca este vorba de o exceptie. De cate ori spun numai si intotdeauna, cineva sau ceva imi dovedeste ca am gresit. Prieteni de-ai mei care sunt oameni de stiinta au venit cu notiuni cum sunt principiile incertitudinii si gaurile negre. Ei isi imagineaza ipoteze si teorii, iar apoi cauta sa traiasca inauntrul lor. In timp ce o gramada de credinciosi insista sa gaseasca raspunsuri care sa fie totdeauna adevarate. Ne plac inchiderea, rezolutia, claritatea, gandindu-ne ca suntem credinciosi. Ce straniu ca insusi cuvantul credinta a ajuns sa sa insemne exact opusul.
People who have really met the Holy are always humble. It’s the people who don’t know who usually pretend that they do. People who’ve had any genuine spiritual experience always know they don’t know. They are utterly humbled before mystery. They are in awe before the abyss of it all, in wonder at eternity and depth, and a Love, which is incomprehensible to the mind. It is a litmus test for authentic God experience, and is — quite sadly — absent from much of our religious conversation today. My belief and comfort is in the depths of Mystery, which should be the very task of religion.
Oamenii care l-au intalnit intr-adevar pe cel Sfant sunt intotdeauna smeriti. Sunt cei ce nu stiu sa explice ceea ceea ce incearca sa realizeaze. Cei care au avut experiente genuin spirituale stiu intotdeuana ca nu stiu. Ei sunt total smeriti in fata misterului. Ei inmarmuresc in fata abisului, muti in fata vesniciei si adancimii, si a Dragostei, care este de neinteles mintii. Este un test litmus pentru experienta autentica a divinului – si este, din pacate, absent din cele mai multe conversatii religioase de azi. Credinta mea si placerea pe care o gasesc sunt in adancimile Misterului, ceea ce ar trebui sa fie chiar sarcina religiei.