chris erdman

See preceding posts if you’re just now entering the story . . .

In reply to the first question, one person advised that the emperor make up a thorough time schedule, consecrating every hour, day, month and year for certain tasks and then follow the schedule to the letter.  Only then could he hope to do every task at the right time.

Another person replied that it was impossible to plan in advance and that the emperor should put all vain amusements aside and remain attentive to everything in order to know what to do at what time.

Someone else insisted that, by himself, the emperor could never hope to have all the foresight and competence necessary to decide when to do each and every task, and what he really needed was to set up a Council of the Wise and then to act according to their advice.

Someone else said that certain matters require immediate decision and could not wait for consultation, but if he wanted to know in advance what was going to happen he should consult magicians and soothsayers.

To be continued . . .

Note about this series:

This post is part of a short series of postings taken from Tolstoy’s short tale, “The Emperor’s Three Questions.”

The tale is a remarkable meditation on mindfulness, the awakened life, the practice of living from a prayerful center. Along with other Russian literary giants, Tolstoy wrote from inside nineteenth century Russia which experienced a revival of the Jesus Prayer among ordinary peasants who sought to live well in hard times.

I see Tolstoy’s tale as a popularization of the spirituality of the Jesus Prayer for ordinary people. Reviving this story during our tumultuous century may serve to give us guidance for living well in the midst of the new challenges facing our daily lives.

Take time to ponder this little section of the tale and seek for ways it might guide your day today.

Don’t hurry, there is real gold here.

You might also enjoy the award winning 2006 Russian film, The Island, which explores the ethical impact of 19th century Russian spirituality, and in particular, the Jesus Prayer, on our modern world.

One day it occurred to a certain emperor that if he only knew the answers to three questions, he would never stray in any matter.

1. What is the best time to do each thing?

2. Who are the most important people to work with?

3. What is the most important thing to do at all times?

The emperor issued a decree throughout his kingdom announcing that whoever could answer the questions would receive a great reward. Many who read the decree made their way to the palace at once, each person with a different answer.

To be continued . . .

This post is part of a short series of postings taken from Tolstoy’s short tale, “The Emperor’s Three Questions.”

The tale is a remarkable meditation on mindfulness, the awakened life, the practice of living from a prayerful center. Along with other Russian literary giants, Tolstoy wrote from inside nineteenth century Russia which experienced a revival of the Jesus Prayer among ordinary peasants who sought to live well in hard times.

I see Tolstoy’s tale as a popularization of the spirituality of the Jesus Prayer for ordinary people. Reviving this story during our tumultuous century may serve to give us guidance for living well in the midst of the new challenges facing our daily lives.

Take time to ponder this little section of the tale and seek for ways it might guide your day today.

Don’t hurry, there is real gold here.

You might also enjoy the award winning 2006 Russian film, The Island, which explores the ethical impact of 19th century Russian spirituality, and in particular, the Jesus Prayer, on our modern world.

While I’m not sure why anyone would want to walk the John Muir Trail in seven days, this nevertheless is a marvelous witness to what it means to immerse oneself in the Creation through silence and solitude (even if racing alone at over 30 miles per day in rugged terrain).

WINTER IS COMING – Seven Days on the John Muir Trail from Ryan Commons on Vimeo.

Continued from the previous post . . .

But now I’m learning to see.

It’s taken many miles, many place and faces.  It’s taken a rattling and a shaking I thought would undo me. It’s taken a descent into a darkness that I couldn’t know at the time to be a gift of grace—a mercy, though terribly severe. But what I see now—made possible because of all this—I wouldn’t trade for anything.

It’s taken a long time to open my eyes to this Light, to see the Marvel that’s as near as the beating of my heart.

Sometimes I regret that, and wonder why I was so dull. But regret doesn’t get me anywhere. And wishing only keeps me fixated elsewhere. I’m learning to live where I am—here and now, on the ground, in this place, this body.

When I do, I come face to face with the Mystery that is always right before—indeed, within—us all.

Continued from the previous post. . .

Some people say we look for love in all the wrong places.

It’s true, our longing can take us into dangerous and destructive places, but there is no place on earth where God is not present, where Love is not as near as our next breath.

In our search for God, our yearning to return to the center, we’re always looking exactly where we can find what we’re looking for. We’re just not trained to see. We have such little schooling in real holiness. We may have heard all about God, our ideas about God may be straight-laced and orthodox, but that doesn’t mean we’d know how to recognize God even if God were standing, in all God’s radiance, right before us.

To be continued . . .

For most of my years, I’ve wandered the Earth in search of God, longing for a real encounter with divine love.

I was a spiritual vagabond, always looking somewhere else for God, over the next hill, in the next book, at the next conference, a different technique, experience, or idea—seeking fulfillment and meaning and happiness in achievement, recognition, influence, even possessions.

I figured God was somewhere other than where-I-was because I didn’t find where-I-was to be all that interesting.

I was perpetually restless. And because I was always looking elsewhere, I was blind to what—or Who—was right before me, beneath me, around me . . . indeed, within me.

To be continued . . .

Here’s a little paraphrase of St. Paul’s instructions in Philippians 2.1-11. Apt guidance for everyday life in our families, work settings, and neighborhoods.

If you climb over others on your way toward your goals,
you’re blind to Christ in them,
and your ego’s become your god.

Instead, remember what I’ve told you:
you have everything it takes to set yourself aside
and help others find their way.

Look, this is the down-to-earth way of life
modeled for us by Christ,
and Christ expects us to follow him.

But if you don’t do the hard work
of letting go of the things you don’t think
you can live without,

You’ll never be able to
get past yourself long enough
to lend a helping hand.

Such talk of prayer is likely to awaken objections—

“How do I pray continually when my life is so full of obligations?”

“When I’m not doing the things I need to do to get through the day, I’m thinking about what I need to do. Prayer is often the last thing on my mind.”

“As much as I desire intimacy with God, the call to prayer loads me with more guilt than inspiration. The prayers I utter are basically prayers for help—for myself and for others.”

There’s no getting around the truth that Jesus summons us to unbroken communion with God and that the Apostles taught this practice to the first Christians. Throughout history, there’s also an unbroken line of praying people who’ve kept the practice alive, handing it down from one generation to the next. That it’s foreign to us is an indication that the Modern world isn’t very hospitable to interior experience, to mystery, and the mystic encounter with God that is above and beyond the heightened rationalism so characteristic of these last centuries.

Prayer then, according to Jesus, is more like breathing than sitting down for a meal at certain times each day. Nevertheless, the ability to live in unbroken communion with God is fed by formal times of prayer alone or with others, by the Psalms, Scripture, and by offering intercessions.

Unless you sit down and eat periodically throughout the day, you’re not likely to do much breathing. But, fail to breathe and the meal hasn’t done you much good.

Unceasing prayer as unbroken communion with God is not for super-Christians only—the spiritual elite—any more than breathing is for some special class of human beings. Prayer is life and life is prayer. You were made for this.