Liquid assets: Roger Hill’s Thought for the Week
‘In the moment “now” a choice between two directions must be made.’
In the 8 July issue of the Friend, there is a reference to a statement that Dietrich Bonhoeffer made from the Flossenburg concentration camp, where he was murdered. ‘Our being Christians today’, he said, ‘will be limited to two things, “prayer” and “righteous action”.’
On Sunday as I walked across the bridge over the River Dart to Meeting for Worship, I thought about Bonhoeffer’s words and how the teaching of Daoism might be applied to them.
Daoism, the esoteric religion of China, is sometimes known as ‘The Watercourse Way’. Of all the elements, water is thought to represent the divine most closely. It takes the lowest position, showing strength combined with gentleness. And its nature is to fill every nook and cranny in the same way that the Divine is ever present in our lives, whether we are awake to it or not.
Like the River Dart, with its high and low tides and its rush of water after a storm on the moor, or its near emptiness in a drought, the Divine Flow seems – but just seems – to swell and lessen in us.
Standing on the bridge, I watched the river running upstream to its source high on Dartmoor. There its flow starts as a trickle, from an ill-defined, boggy patch, a place with no clear boundaries, and no clear definition on a map. The Rivers Taw and Torridge start there, too. It is a formless hub of creation in miniature.
Downstream the river flows out to join the English Channel. Not so long ago, it was a busy highway of trade. Now it mainly brings joy to tourists, rowers and birdwatchers.
So how do I apply this to my spiritual journey?
The bridge, I thought, can stand for the moment ‘Now’ – the moment for making a choice. We all have such moments. One of the choices we can make is between the journey upstream – towards the source as we try to reconnect with the Divine – and downstream, where we can find opportunities for righteous action. Over our lifetimes, both movements are necessary; each enriches the other. But in the moment ‘now’ a choice between the two directions must be made.
Travelling upstream seems to be a journey against the flow, against the thrust of creation, as we weave our way past the rocks and shallows of our desires and habits, towards the simple, still, silent place of the ever beginning. Travelling downstream, with the flow, is where we can find our chance to give service for others, where we can join the greater world beyond our self-imposed boundaries.
Silence and service, prayer and action – both are the hallmarks of the spiritual journey, journeys we travel in our own particular ways, upstream and downstream.
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