Tablet Jan 07 Four year old Colam, my godson, made me a present of a drawing a few days ago and told me, as if I didn't know, that it was about Jesus. “Who is that?” “Jesus in the manger.” “And that?” “Joseph.” “And that (a long squiggly line)?” “A stingray.” I looked nonplussed and could not so disturb the universe I had entered by questioning the right of stingray to be at the Nativity. Indeed, why not? But I could rightfully ask where Mary was. “You can't see her; she's behind the stingray.” I nodded. Of course. The Dhammapada, the collection of teachings of the Buddha, says that the world is what we make it, the total construction of our thoughts. This is perhaps partly what Jesus is pointing to when he says that where your heart is there your treasure will be. How we act is shaped by what we see. Our way of perception is our experience of reality - at least until something outside our frame of reference leaps into our world and rearranges it - like the great epiphany of this season. The worldview of a child like Colam is, for its time, invincible and it so stuns the adult mind because of the way its certainties expose our own doubts and self-contradictions. Let's hope we admit we have them. Its invincibility, like the pride and daring of youth, is its charm and many allowances can therefore be made for it. Colan's world reminded me of another child's universe whose outer rim I brushed a few months ago when I went, in my white habit, to meditate with a class of pre-schoolers in the Australian diocese of Townsville where meditation has become part of Catholic school religious education. I noticed a little girl watching me closely as the children got the meditation circle ready. She came up to me curiously and looked at me closely and then asked 'are you an angel?' It was the kind of question only a very young mind could ask. It had no irony or duplicity. Like the stingray by the manger it had to be acknowledged. To mock or roughly deny its perception of reality would be a millstone round one's neck. A child's view of the world has its self-affirming and defensive logic, maybe not as thorough as Thomism, which provide explanations for most of the questions it is challenged by. Eventually, and one hopes by gentle stages, it yields its self- sufficiency. Pressed upon by bigger galaxies in the same cosmos it opens up and is changed. The mythic certainties have to accommodate the rational and when the arrogance of reason is exhausted it allows itself to be entered by the non-dual. The co-existence of vastly different visions of the world is the Shakespearean wonder of life that demands a catholicity beyond sectarianism. If we don't have this we can no longer be surprised and we must perish from boredom or relieve boredom by trying to destroy or colonise what is different. Part of the ritual of gift-giving is the hiding of the gift to accentuate the delight of seeing it. The Fathers say that the Incarnation both reveals and hides divinity and the subsequent story of receiving this gift is a tragical farce of mis-recognition and misunderstanding. 'He comes to us hidden and salvation consists in our recognising him', Simone Weil tells us. What is this recognition except entering the 'new creation' where at last perception and reality are one? Children's worlds are easy to accept because they are protected from ours by their innocence and because we know they will change. Recently, when I was talking with a 60 year old Iranian living in Bombay, who is apparently quite a worldly and sharp, hoary individual, I was surprised to find myself visiting his very different world. Perhaps in the same way that doctors get unsolicited case histories when their profession is discovered, religious people are often treated to strangers' explanations about how the world is made and what God really wants. So Jalal told me about djins, creatures made of fire that cohabit our world but are invisible. They can be mischievous but can sometimes be seen by those who have prayed and fasted enough. In response to my questions, hungry for more knowledge, he confessed that he only knew a little about them and that there were wiser Zoroastrians to consult. In the admission that there is more of our world view or faith than we fully understand we can all concur. Perhaps this shared humility in admitting what we don't know can unite us even more than what we do. Even so, after meeting the djins I decided that at the next opportunity I would ask Colam how the stingray got to Bethlehem. Dear Friends, The WCCM web home will be hosting a variety of special contributions to a new John Main 25th anniversary page as we enter this landmark year for our Community. The Oblate Community of the WCCM was very close to his heart and they will be contributing regular instalments reflecting his teaching on the new monasticism and contemporary Christian community. His weekly talks to meditation groups meeting at his monastery have formed an incomparable body of spiritual teaching and enriched the contemplative tradition he was passing on. A taste of this wisdom transmission will be made available in regular podcasts. Above all Fr John was a teacher, a friend and a presence who transformed and continues to transform people's lives. Another feature of this page will be memories and personal accounts of those who have 'met' him in this way. These will form additions to a re-issue of the book "John Main by Those who Knew Him" which is being supported by national communities worldwide. I hope you will find your own daily practice of meditation enriched by these different kinds of lectio and that as you reflect on what God has done through Fr John and his legacy you may better see what the same Spirit is doing in you. Much love,