In the crime novel series by Louise Penny, the central character, inspector Gamache of the Surete du Quebec, has a familiar phrase known to those who read these stories. When his team of detectives sit together to discuss the latest developments in their murder investigation, he begins each of their meetings with this inquiry: tell me what you know. His detectives know not always to trust what they think. It is what they know that is needed. As they share their various noticings, sometimes several conflicting pieces of evidence appear, sometimes the clues are sparse. At other times they have to admit that right now what they know is - nothing.

Stillpoint was blessed to have the gentle presence of John Philip Newell with us this week for a one-day retreat. It was a restorative day guided by story, silence and song in the refreshing air of the ancient Celtic tradition. Following the text of his beautiful book, Listening to the Heartbeat of God, we heard a tradition immersed in a knowing that the whole created order, because it is born of God, is born whole, full of goodness, and in the image and likeness of God. And as the Celtic teacher Eriugena (9C) writes, when we look within ourselves and within all that exists, we will find darkness and evil but, deeper still, the goodness of God. Our deepest yearnings are not rooted in our sinful self. Our deepest yearnings are rooted in goodness. Rooted in God. What is most truly human is most truly divine.

There are other streams, particularly in the Christian tradition, of investigation into the mystery of the human being which gather a different set of evidence. Some conclude, as John Calvin did, ‘that the image of God in the human had been totally erased by Adam’s fall.’

So we must ask, what do I know?

John Philip shared with us this story: Not long ago when he was leading a similar retreat on Celtic consciousness, as he was preparing for the final session, a woman walked deliberately up the center isle of the church toward him. He said he didn’t know what might be coming.  She was holding his book in her hand, Listening for the Heartbeat of God. She stood before him and said, “I need to show you what I wrote in my copy when I first read your book many years ago.

She opened it to the front cover and gave it to him. There she had written three times:

I knew it.
I knew it.
I knew it.

Good spiritual teaching or spiritual companionship of any kind, Newell reminded us, is not about dispensing information as if we have superior knowledge, but it is about encouraging and trusting every person to hear, connect, weep, sing, dance in what we know. Sometimes we don’t know, but when we are allowed a place to hear, when our own words are allowed to come into being, we recognize truth. Spiritual direction is a vessel of time and place to let people hear and tell what they know here and now.

This we know.

Blessings for the Journey,
Elizabeth+