by Frank Fletcher, MSC

The task tonight requires a mystic and a poet.  A mystical openness we definitely have to have: a poetic spirit would be handy.

On the mystical side we should begin by attuning ourselves to our gathering as a gathering in the Spirit – and attuning also to our meeting place as a sacred space.  We may think that our gathering in this beach-side suburb is just a convenient arrangement.  If we have a sense of the mystical, however, and a hope in the Spirit we must open ourselves to all the mysteries of place and gathering.

Every place is like a sea shell: if we listen to it intently we hear murmurs from other times.  We should acknowledge these murmurs.  First of them, of course, are those of the Aboriginal people who lived here over aeons: they lived in reverent exchange with the Mystery which they sensed in the land and the sea.   The noted anthropologist, Professor Stanner, who worked with the MSC among the Port Keats people, made a statement about the traditional Aboriginal languages; in contrast to the languages of modern culture where a thing is only allowed, as far as possible, to be one precise thing – in those Aboriginal languages a thing is never just a thing.  Every being has an inwardness, a mystery.  It takes a mystical or at least a poetic spirit to sense this inwardness.  From that perception we know we are not just creatures of the everyday world, growing older, growing tired.  We recall, then, as Christians that we are those over whom sacred words were spoken, blessed oils bestowed, living waters poured.  From that consecration we are called to be passionate people.  Like the ancient Jacob we must awaken to where we are: this is truly a holy gathering in a blessed place.

Of corse the everyday world clings to us.  We are living in a time of high anxiety and confusion.  Confusion is a sign of the evil one.  People’s souls are in disorder.  We may not take even ourselves for granted.  Yet amid this distress there are signs of the Spirit moving among the people.  And if the Spirit of God is breaking among us, who would be so foolish as to stay dulled in the confusion.  But is there breakthrough?    Who can tell us?   We look to those who have some gift for reading the signs of the times.  I will mention a few such people in these talks, beginning with our own bishop Jim Cuskelly.  Even before Vatican II Jim recognised that MSC were called to rediscover Jules Chevalier’s spirituality of the heart.  On becoming superior general of the MSC he helped MSC around the world to discern their directions by means of that spirituality.  Last year I was privileged to attend a conference on Cuskelly’s work held at Issoudun, France.  I was impressed by the respect with which he is held by the international Chevalier family, which includes lay people.   After his period as superior general Jim was appointed auxiliary bishop of Brisbane.  During his 18 years as bishop his viewpoint changed.  Whereas his previous writings were mostly directed to priests and religious, he began to write for lay people – but the spirituality he offered remained the spirituality of the heart.  In the years of his dying he wrote a book specifically for lay people’s spirituality, Walking the Way of Jesus.  It was inspired by the recognition that there dwelt a desire for union with Christ within many lay people.  Moreover, he perceived this desire as a vocation, a lay vocation.   He wrote: “In our days the desire for a strong spiritual life does not automatically suggest a vocation to the priesthood or the cloister… In former times we spoke of practising Catholics, those who performed the duties of the faith such as Mass on Sundays.  Today this emphasis on duties does not resonate for many.  They desire a way of spirituality which they can live in the midst of their families, their work, their parish, social life and neighbourhood.  He was convinced that the Church’s future lies through the growth of the lay vocation.  A sign of the times…   The force with which the lay vocation has taken off worldwide confirms his perception.

Of course the lay vocation takes varied forms: there are specifically lay movements, there are laity associated with religious orders, there are lay people who prefer an individual path.  I believe we MSC should support whatever path lay people feel drawn to.  However, it is significant, as I mentioned, that Jim Cuskelly believed that Chevalier’s spirituality of the heart was particularly suitable for lay people.  Which raises the question: did Jules Chevalier himself envision the spirituality of the heart of Jesus as meant for lay people?  Of course, YES!   Every project of Chevalier – the preaching of the Sacred Heart in parishes, his books and brochures, building the basilica of the Sacred Heart, originating devotion of our Lady of the Sacred Heart, the foreign missions, lay associations including a Third Order – all were to begin a movement of people around the world committed to the spirituality of love.  The MSC motto proclaimed it boldly.  “May the Sacred Heart of Jesus be loved in every place”.

When I was a child in Coogee MSC parish being prepared for First Communion my grandmother told me how fortunate I was.  When she was growing up the emphasis was on fear and reverence towards the sacraments.  One might go to communion once a year and only after confession.  In her experience of religion there were two great moments: first, Pius X’s proposition of communion for children and frequent communion;  the second, the MSC preaching of the love of the Heart of Jesus.  To her that had come like a new religion of hope and encouragement.  It had changed her life.  I believe that effect was not uncommon in her generation and the one which followed.  Which leads to a further question: Did the promotion of this spirituality appear to flag during the second half of the 20th century?

Perhaps among the MSC the foreign missions took the energy and the primacy.  Perhaps most of all there was a change in the mentality of the west following the horrors and stress of World War II, the outbreak of the Cold War, the threat of nuclear annihilation.  People wanted a spiritual word that touched these anxieties and uncertainties.  I believe the spirituality of the heart could have been a healing balm if we had attended to these wounds more sensitively and flexibly.  Jim Cuskelly in the 1950s recognised that Chevalier’s heart spirituality was deeply rooted in the whole tradition of the bible and of the mystics.  From that depth Chevalier’s spirituality held the possibility of spiritual breadth and sensitivity.  Cuskelly’s was the voice pointing us in that direction.

It is no coincidence, I believe, that the re-kindling of heart spirituality associated with Cuskelly has taken place in the same period as the emergence of the lay vocation.  This providential linking of the two speaks to us MSC.  If we could be penetrated with a sense of the lay vocation and, at the same time, with the fire of heart spirituality, we would be responding, from the depth of our vocation, in the spirit of our founder.

Jules Chevalier’s dream for the laity was prophetic.  In the last 20-30 years we have seen a growth of lay MSC in Australia and around the world.  How can this go forward?   There are two considerations:  on the one hand, the lay vocation is a grace given to lay people;  on the other hand, in the Church clergy, religious and laity act in mutual concert.  Historically there is a providential relationship between religious congregations and laity whereby religious make available their spiritual way.  Likewise the religious have much to learn from lay people, particularly at this time.  For this work to go forward there are many steps to be taken, conversions from older mindsets.  At some stage, I believe, we would need to hold a congress of religious and lay msc to upgrade our skills and directions.  In view of such a congress, I will offer some approaches to heart spirituality which may be found helpful for the lay vocations.

Some people are put off by the word heart: they take it as referring literally to the physical organ.  Let us begin by entering into the experience behind this singular word.

You may remember that Cathy Freeman declared her decision to resign from world competitive athletics came from her heart.  Do we know what she meant by “came from her heart”?   We say, yes.  But if we are pushed to say precisely how the decision came from her heart we may be struggling.  That is the paradox of the word heart: we feel we know but at the same time its meaning is obscure.  It is a strange word.  It is called a primordial word.  We get near what primordial means if we approach it as mystical and poetic.  Primordial words are poetic in so far as they voice the depths of existence whilst not presuming to sort them out.  They give us images not analysis.  Think of Blake’s line: “To see a world in a grain of sand”, such a poetic line rouses wonder, even a mystical spirit – but it stops short of explaining itself: that is part of its poetic power.  Heart also points towards the depth of whom one is, but it holds back from a definition lest it lose the deeper meanings it can evoke.

Even in our western culture and language we have some words which readily suggest something more.  Take water or star for example.  A scientist can tell us how to recognise a star;  how it is formed – and how gravity affects it.   A poet, however, looks into the night sky and can be affected by a primordial wonder.

Or the word water.  For science it is H2O, but the word can also touch human depths.  Jesus spoke to the Samaritan woman of living water, and from Christ’s pierced side on the cross the disciple witnessed a flow of blood and water and was shaken by its import.    Or, there is a line from the Hebrew Psalms “(O God) my body yearns for you like a dry weary land without water”.  That poetic line is heart music laying the primordial notes.  And notice how much the mystical and poetic run together.

There are other primordial words which can be strongly mystical such as the holy, the sacred, spirit, fire.  Each can speak from the source of reality within us.  Miriam Rose Ungummerr, Aboriginal artist and educator from the Daly River, NT, uses the primordial word of her own language, Dadirri.  It means deep inner springs:  a heart word more imaginative than ours.  Miriam insists that by going into the bush and sitting quietly we may get in touch with the deep inner springs.  At some time mystical words will rise to our consciousness such as Jesus and Saviour.  Thus heart words work across all cultures in their languages.

So far I have spoken of the heart as a word.  Obviously there is a primordial experience which lies behind the word.  For example, we have all at some time wept, not out of sentiment but from a source deep within us, quite unexpectedly.  Sometimes the weeping can be prolonged.  Les Murray wrote a poem, An absolutely ordinary rainbow, about a man who wept in the middle of the Sydney Business District.   Such tears are from the source of true care within us.

Another example is the smile.  No one has to be taught to smile.  Babies do it beautifully.  Smiles are generally spontaneous.  Yet they sometimes touch the most tender feelings in other people.  Perhaps it is these movements from within us, like weeping and smiling, which most convince us we are beings of heart.  They also demonstrate that the heart is deeper than the ego and sometimes gets past the ego to communicate with other hearts.  Heart speaks to heart.

Yes, although there is an autonomy of the heart, we can dispose ourselves to be open to it. As noted, Miriam Rose Ungummerr recommends that sitting quietly in the bush offers a contemplative space attractive to the heart.  From that awakening of the heart mystical words and images would arise.

You may say, I don’t think that would happen for me.  St Augustine had an answer for that.  He wrote: if you think God has not touched your heart, wait till He does.

There is another way by which the heart is awakened, a way very relevant to lay people: the experience of falling-in-love.   Again St Augustine put this strongly: a lover will understand. Long centuries after Augustine, the poet Dante saw the young Beatrice on a street in Florence.  He beheld her whom his heart loved.  He declared that through this love he knew that there was a Christ, knew there was a Saviour.  Love awakens the inner eye.  The primordial words begin to speak.

Besides the romantic love of young people, there are other forms of love, such as love in marriage and love of children.  Years ago I ran seminars on people’s religious experience.  The strongest experience for some was at the birth of their first child. Some of the fathers were eloquent on this.

There is also the love of friendship, compassionate care for those suffering, for those struggling with poverty, for one’s fellow workers or neighbours and so on.  All those loves are at the core of lay life and so of the lay vocation.

The question may be coming to your mind: how did primordial words arise?   The phrasing of that question reveals how we moderns think.  We take it that literal or practical words are the norm, and we wonder how these funny primordial words got into language.  That is the mindset  we have to shake.  Recall again Professor Stanner’s words which I quoted early on: in Aboriginal languages a thing is never just a thing.  A thing, to us, appears to be basic to language: that thing is a chair, that other thing is a tree: this thing is an animal.  There is no mystery about them.  That is what they are in practical, literal terms.  What Professor Stanner stated was that our western emphasis upon the literal and practical to almost the exclusion of the symbolic and mystical did not happen in the traditional languages.  In fact the traditional Aborigines treasured the conjunction between the two;  they sensed an inwardness in all beings, an inwardness which immediately evoked the symbolic and mystical.

What happened in western culture was that it distinguished strictly between literal practical words and symbolic or mystical words.  Only a few words kept a strong conjunction between the two: heart is one of these.

How does this understanding of the heart as primordial relate to the Sacred Heart?   Recall Cathy Freeman’s declaration that her decision came from her heart.  It touched something in who she is.  She was conscious of meaning a lot in the hearts of her people and of many others.  People who attain such a place in people’s hearts are brought strongly into the mystic unity of human existence.  In her withdrawing she may have felt as if she was tearing at that unity of hearts.

These reflections on Cathy Freeman have focussed on her attaining, at heart level, to the unity of human existence.  Each of us is meant to exist within that unity of hearts.  Many people attain this only in a small circle of family and friends.  Others like Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela have been great-hearted liberators of their people.   And there are also others like Therese of Lisieux, known to few people in her life-time, who became well-known at heart level after her death.   But there is a further difference.  Therese’s heart was focussed on God in Christ.  She worshipped the divine love within the heart.  Thus the Sacred Heart brings us into the Mystery of God become a human being. Christ Jesus is truly human and truly divine.  As truly  human, his heart is the point of unity for all human hearts.  As the heart for all hearts he acts to become the saviour and liberator of all hearts.

Christ is also truly divine.    His heart carries the fire of charity springing up from the Trinity.

To sum up what I have tried to say about heart spirituality: reflection on primordial words brings us to acknowledge ourselves as mystical heart beings living within the unity of human existence.   Further, we have begun to reflect on the mystery of the divine love in a human heart.