Summary of Remain in Me: Holy Orders, Prayer, and Ministry by Deacon James Keating

What is this book about?

Remain in Me is for priests and deacons to use for reflection, prayer, and for discussion. Deacon Keating’s wonderful little book addresses their mutual dedication to “remain in Christ” even in the service of parishioners.

Chapter 1: Spiritual Direction

Spiritual direction is an act of love: “One of the greatest expressions of love for the Church is to undergo our own needed healing and ongoing formation” (2). “Either remaining in spiritual direction or beginning direction again if we have stopped is one of the most concrete decisions we can make to stay in love with the Holy Trinity” (23). As such, Keating presents spiritual direction as “the golden thread of spiritual maturity” (2) and a great practice to bear fruit in a deeper prayer life, which is the pastoral priority par excellence, as Pope Benedict XVI said.

Spiritual Direction is a time of prayer: Spiritual direction itself should be an experience of prayer. “In prayer, we listen to God directly, and in direction, we listen to God through the inviting questions of our director” (13). “The role of the director is to create an environment wherein we can better listen to God within our own hearts and minds. The director establishes himself or herself as one who carries simple inviting questions, like: “What has Christ been doing in your prayer lately?” As we begin to share this activity… we realize that this gift of spiritual direction allows us to recall, or better, experience afresh, how God has been loving us. The prerequisite for any fruitful spiritual direction session is noticing God acting in the ordinariness of our days, and in our interior affective movements (e.g., I feel alone, loved, peaceful, and so on)” (11). And another great, question: “How is God acting in all these matters?” This is the essential question to answer when discussing a variety of topics in your life.

Keating reminds us that “we don’t need a spiritual director because prayer is complex; we need a director because we are complex” (16). “The only thing that complicates prayer is our sinfulness” (16).

Spiritual direction is a time to “look again”: God is in our entire being. It is a good practice to ask, “Where was God when you felt sad/frustrated/excited, etc.? Look again…” When we are invited to “look again,” we are asking God to give us a new interpretation. “Receiving this invitation to “look again” from our director allows us to rebuke the most common of all lies regarding a steady prayer life: God has left me… In this way, the spiritual director labors as a messenger of the resurrection when our prayer life appears dead” (15). “The deepest growth in our prayer life occurs when we notice and surrender to the smallest movements of love from God… If we welcome and stay with the smallest of movements, they often open a floodgate of consoling grace, which keeps us attentive to God’s presence. From what started as barely perceptible (1 Kgs 18:43-45), we are left full to the brim, if we are patient and hospitable to the movements of God’s coming” (14). This, once again, helps us to see that prayer is the spiritual life is about “receiving more” rather than “doing more” (3).

A good shorthand definition for spiritual direction is “a process of praying and talking about what I do not want to pray or talk about” (20). With this in mind, a good practice is to make sure to share what you least want to talk about first in your direction.

Spiritual direction is hated by Satan: “The temptation to end ongoing spiritual direction, along with any temptation to place aside the habit of prayer, become the two main struggles many clerics wrestle with regularly. The last thing Satan wants us to do is to stay in spiritual direction and to remain in prayer… Satan hates clerics who pray because it is prayer that prevents clergy from believing that the routine of ministry is exhaustive of life’s meaning… Prayer also keeps us keen to look within the ordinary rounds of ministry so that we do not focus on their predictability, but rather on… the movement of God within common events. Further, prayer strengthens us from entering the diabolical tailspin of cynicism, despair, boredom, and sloth. Such attitudes toward ministry are inevitable when we separate ourselves from the personal reception of grace that is prayer” (12-3).

Chapter 2: Suffering Temptations

The triangulation of the clerical vocation: Christ reveals His love to us, we live vulnerable in an ongoing receptivity to His love, and we are sent in this love to pour the gospel into the pain of the needy: “Being sent in His love is the lynchpin for our entire ministry. If we aren’t aware of Him loving us amid our serving others’ needs, we risk losing the capacity to give, as Benedict XVI noted (see DCE 7). This lack of awareness opens a gap that is then filled with voices refusing to console and instead accuse, refusing to encourage and instead tempt, and refusing to affirm but instead condemn. To not receive while giving is the occasion for temptations to grow strong, as we grow weary in ministering out of the needs of our own power or unmet needs” (35). “What kept Christ faithful to his mission was his continual communion with his Father. It was this communion that held Christ to the cross, not nails. Christ’s reception of the Father’s love sustains and empowers him to make his own self-donation – the constitutive dimension of his earthly ministry… For clerical formation to be complete, each deacon or priest is invited to learn how to enter the prayer of Christ, which consists of his receptivity toward the Father’s love even while he is loving others. It is this prayer, where Christ receives even while giving, which all clergy are encouraged to enter and to allow it to enter them. In such prayer is the fruit of all ministry” (34).

Temptations to avoid prayer: “Being busy, in pain, distracted, independent, and “ignored,” among other reasons, leads us to believe, falsely, that God is not sufficient, that he will not care for me, nor respond to my deepest human needs. In sum, little by little, my trust in God’s immense charity toward me and in the efficacy of prayer fades away” (26).

When you “cannot” pray: “When one cannot pray, the answer is not to encourage prayer “anyway.” The answer is to notice where God is coming to us in the folds of our feelings or the stuff of our day. Noticing God’s movements that reach our consciousness is like fresh air felt by a coal miner seeking a way out of a cave. If we notice this initiative by God and respond to it, we will be led willingly back to our regular prayer life” (27).

“When it is difficult for us to come to Christ in prayer, we can maintain intimacy with God by noticing when Christ comes to us. It is the mystery of the Incarnation that founds our hope that God comes to us, that he seeks us and reaches us. This mystery is fulfilled by Pentecost, and the abiding power of the sacramental economy, securing not only his coming in the flesh but the descent of his Spirit upon us and his indwelling our hearts. Because of such divine love, we affirm his initiative to seek us out when he find it “impossible” to sit and pray. This seeking is usually subtle, ordinary, and unfolds in a gentle revelation. For example, as we are engaged in our daily commitments, we might see a sacramental: a cross, a picture of a saint, and so on, and feel moved to receive consolation from such noticing. It will come softly to our heart, and then, if we want it to, it will remain and penetrate our being even as we continue in our ministry. Over time, such cooperation with grace can reestablish our desire to pray more deeply and regularly in our scheduled prayer time in the chapel or at our kitchen tables” (33).

Living holy orders is a sacramental extension of Christ’s sacred presence in the ordinary. Clergy encourage all to embrace the mundane as being suffused with God, not forsaken by Him (59). We become a bridge in the midst of the mundane between daily life and God’s life.

Go into the “pain” of prayer: To sit in the pain of prayer – the feeling of God’s absence to us and ours to Him – is an invitation to go into the pain, not the prayer. Offer God your distractions, your pains, your everything. Sitting in the pain will train you in receptivity, vulnerability, and affectivity. Think of it like flying on an airplane through turbulence. “It is uncomfortable and nerve-wracking, but the purpose of being in the air in the first place is being accomplished: we are still moving toward the destination. Thus it is with sitting in pain during prayer time” (28).

Chapter 3: Prayer Renewed

Be with Him: “In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus’s deepest desire in forming the clergy is articulated: “He also named apostles, to be with Him, and to be sent out to proclaim the message, and to have authority to cast out demons” (3:14, emphasis added). No communion equals no mission. This is the essence of clerical formation. As such, ongoing formation is clear; we choose those experiences and those relationships that deepen our desire to be with him so that our ministry might truly flow from communion” (50-51)… “What is most striking, here, is that the heart of the call, “being with him,” appears as the indisputable means to minister in his name. We come to him, remain with him, and only then are we sent... The time of formation is a time of moving beyond the mind and heart we now possess to a new interior life, one that hosts communion with God and becomes the cradle of my thinking, preaching, and acting… By the power of such a conversion, we attract others to “be with him” too. Consequently, evangelization is secretly ignited in our prayer life – being with Him – and brought to public fruition in our witnessing to such intimacy. To be an “attractive” man for the gospel does not mean that we are flawless; it simply means that our “being with him” is our defining identity” (60).

God is not a thief: He is not a “taker” of time and calendar. Being with Him in prayer, we realize that God is only giving; he is not a threat, but instead bears a promise. (48). Therefore, we should see time as a gift to order for communion with Him. Our communion with God becomes the source of our giving what people really need. Prayer is not a threat to our work, but is its very foundation. “As its foundation, those who pray accomplish “more” during each day. Such is true because those who pray receive: a new wisdom about time, a new discernment about words or activities within that time, and a new trust that the primary spiritual work we accomplish is not our accomplishment but that of the Spirit. In short, diocesan clergy are spiritual leaders – if we pray” (46).

Our ministry is NOT our identity: One of the most tempting lies is that our ministry is our identity. More correctly, ministry is the action flowing from our identity as men in communion with the Holy Trinity and on mission from the bishop for the sake of the Church. This communion become mission is our identity. Much pain is known when clergy enlist ministry to bear the weight of their identity. Ministry is ordered toward the spiritual and corporeal welfare of others; it is not a vehicle for attaining a stable and centred self. Ministry, which can be altered with a phone call from the Chancery or upended through the accidents of each day, is not sufficient to comprise our identity. We are not what we do. We are, instead, called to choose “the better part” (Luke 10:42). To choose the better part is to remain with Him, choosing to be with Him in a readied posture of self-gift toward Him and those whom we minister. In remaining with Him in our giving to others, we allow His actions to bear fruit: “apart from Me, you can do nothing” (Jn 15:5).

Prayer is a circulation of love: “Our prayer lives are a circulation of love, and love’s deepest desire is self-revelation. This revelation is the adhesive that bonds the cleric to Christ, and Christ to the cleric” (43). The more we reveal our hearts, the more we receive from the fount of divine love. And the more we receive, the more we want to open our hearts to God in love. Therefore, pour the substance of your heart into the Heart of Christ. Allow Him to carry it to the Father. Do not harden your heart by refusing to share your thoughts, feelings, and desires. Ask Christ for the gift of vulnerability when you begin prayer.

God is present: “As clerics engaged in ministry and prayer, do we believe that we act in the presence of and with a God who is real, active, and interested in us and our ministries? Our entire clerical lives change once we believe that God is actively present: engaged in our lives, interested in our thoughts, feelings, and desires, willingly sharing himself with us in the sacrament of holy orders to which he called us. A large part of the spiritual life is praying for the grace to know and believe that God is present” (49).

Chapter 4: Ministry

Clerics are called to be experts in being fascinated by God: “Clerics are not simply there to help people in the way a social worker is; our primary gift to others is our fascination with God. This fascination is our expertise, without which we are replaceable by others more competent in the human services field” (58). “What is crucial is that we are first and foremost fascinated with God… Without such fascination, all that is left for us to develop are the skillsets of the secular helping professionals, skills readily available without holy orders” (60). This is what Pope Benedict XVI spoke of when he said: “The faithful expect only one thing from priests: that they be specialists in promoting the encounter between man and God.”

Humility: “What stands out most in us, hopefully, is not our wounds, but rather our humility. Such humility is possessed only through the process of sharing our wounds with Christ in contemplative prayer. The power of our ministry passes through humiliation. All good clerical formation is ordered toward humiliation; a confrontation within our own hearts between who we “think” we are and who we really are in Christ. In jettisoning any fantasy about our identities, we realize that our confidence to minister comes not from our self-confidence, but from remaining in communion with Christ’s love as power. Hence, secular skill sets enhance a healed and mature personality but can never make up for its defects if they lay unrelated to Christ’s merciful and healing love” (61).

Looking at our culture: “When we look at the restless segments of our culture, and discern what is under their restlessness, clerics can identify their response to human searching or pain. Ministry is an attempt to satisfy our culture’s thirst, not for idols, but for communion with God. Exposing the emptiness of idolatry in each age is the perennial (e.g., Josh 24:14-29), yet always new, core of ministry’s essence. We assist others in becoming free of idolatry” (66)… Pouring the gospel into parishioners’ pain, confusion, loneliness, and struggle with sin gradually releases them from seeking substitutes for God. Worshipping “idols” is a common activity because they bear immediate, yet artificial, consolation” (69).

Our own conversion: The work of our own conversion is the key pastoral “skill,” promising true effect in ministry. To become a “skilled” minister is to become one who remains open interiorly, believing that the silent flow of God’s love pours into the core of our being. In remaining open to God, we become viaducts of love as power. Such power is needed in our ministries as we generously listen to others’ pain and suffering” (70). “Remaining with Christ as the foundation for ministry ensures that our service comes from the freedom known in receiving His love and not from efforts to assuage our unmet needs to be loved” (63).

“Where is your pain?” When we ask parishioners this question out of a stance of secured interiority, we are inviting them to reveal the “wound” that has long been soothed by idolatry. As we listen in charity to the person revealing the wound and its pain, a relationship of trust develops. Because of this trust, parishioners will invite us to pour the gospel into their pain. Our greatest ally in creating trust is our prayer-filled patience. Do not rush parishioners to healing and freedom. Impose no pressure or expectations. Our power is found in trusting God’s ways, times, and grace. He is the Minister. (cf. 71). “In Christ, we can listen to pain and confusion and assist in inviting others to be open to receive God more deeply… We, in Christ, can prayerfully absorb much of what humanity wants to release into Christ’s wounds… Much human pain cannot be resolved, but only placed in his wounds” (58).

Contemplative prayer heals moral perfectionism: Striving for moral perfectionism can keep us captured in a mirror of relentless self-examination. In moral perfectionism, there is little room to host anyone other than the self and our achievements (or our ruminations over failure). Such perfectionism is healed in deeper contemplative prayer. Contemplative prayer heals our disfigured image of God, and gifts us with the true image of God in relation to our sins. The neurotic perfectionist believes that his sinful behavior prevents God from loving him, and so he chooses a path of self-improvement, or ultimately, self-defeat. The ill-conceived theory is that once the perfectionist believes himself to be “accomplished,” he can enter the presence of God again. This, of course, is futile. Sin does not chase God away from us; it only masks how truly close he is. Sin calls to God. Perfectionism enslaves us to “get everything right.” Consequently, we become isolated from others and God, thus giving rise to undue emotional stress. As our prayer deepens, we come to see that Christ is the only one to choose right all the time. We can, however, share in some of his wisdom and strength if we allow him to take possession of our souls” (72).

Chapter 5: United in Holy Orders

Priestly celibacy: There is only one reason God calls a man to celibacy: he wants the man’s full attention, so he can satisfy the man’s need for love… and out of that received love, to live a ministry that overflows in love of neighbour. The celibate “ache” is not just for “the woman” but, on a deeper level, for God, the original object of all human longing.

Marriage and Holy Orders: The married cleric aches for his wife and finds certain rest in communion with her, but as both his and her prayer life deepen, it soon becomes evident that marriage is not sufficient for the human person. The heart is restless for its true and eternal nuptial destiny in God. A married life content with “shallow prayer,” as St. John Paul II called it, places the couple at risk. The risk is that once the human exchange of bodies, emotions, and dreams reaches its breaking point, the shallow pray-ers will look elsewhere for satisfaction. The only answer is for couples to move from shallow prayer to depth. It is the invitation to go deep, not broad; it is the ironic invitation to meet the celibate in contemplative prayer. Now, the husband, the wife, and the celibate meet in God (76).

“Married couples witnessing the movement of a deacon and his wife from shallow prayer to substantive prayer is one of the greatest gifts the married clergy gives to the Church… to prove that God is enough for couples in their love for one another” (76).

When a deacon’s personal identity flows from relationships, not ministry: relationships with the Trinity, one’s family, and the bishop… then the ministry – the actions one does in the name of Christ – will not be unduly heavy or time-consuming, since their effect is brought about by the “holy” communion maintained with these persons and not the time spent away from home. Saints heal with a word, not a speech. Holy people heal with a blessing, not an indefinite association with the needy one. It is God’s power – not our efforts – that “make things happen.” His power occupies the core effectiveness of any cleric’s mission” (79).

The prayer life of a cleric is his oxygen: “The prayer life of the cleric is the irreplaceable and vibrant center of his inner peace, inspiration, and spiritual well-being. Very simply, his prayer life is his oxygen. Without this fresh air, the cleric loses his breath, becomes sluggish, and due to the pain caused by being spiritually breathless, becomes self-involved” (81).