Director of the Center for Spiritual Imagination Adam Bucko describes how practices of contemplation have evolved and enlivened the Christian faith.
From the beginning, the Christian life was shaped by the rhythm Jesus himself modeled—a life of action flowing from deep stillness. He withdrew to pray alone. He took his friends up the mountain to witness transfiguration. He sought the silence of the wilderness. Clearly, something transformative happened when Jesus stepped away, and those around him recognized that his outward life was rooted in his inward union with God.
In the early centuries of Christianity, this pattern took on clearer shape in the deserts of Egypt, Palestine, and Syria. The desert mothers and fathers retreated from the cities to resist the empire’s distortions of the gospel. After Constantine’s conversion and the Church’s increasing entanglement with imperial power, many felt that something essential was being lost. So, they left—not to flee reality, but to seek it more deeply. Into caves, huts, and small communities, they went to remember, to pray, to live simply, and to wrestle with God….
What began with Jesus and took clearer shape in the desert then moved West—and began to flourish in new forms. Viewed from a Western monastic perspective, the stream of contemplation flowed through the deserts of the East and eventually exploded into a variety of expressions in Europe. Of course, there are many contemplative traditions—one might say as many as there are people and communities seeking to live in awareness of God’s presence. While we are held by a shared tradition and a common rhythm of prayer, the way this life unfolds can take many forms. The goal has never been to crack some contemplative code or become fluent in the mechanics of prayer. It has always been to become the kind of person who lives awake to God’s presence—in a way that is rooted, communal, and yet responsive to the unique textures of our lives, cultures, and communities….
Contemplation, then, is not a separate path or a unique calling. It is Christianity itself, lived with depth and honesty. It is the heart of the Christian tradition, stretching from Jesus to the desert to today. And as our understanding of the human person has deepened—through psychology, neuroscience, and trauma studies—we are invited to add new tools, not because the tradition was wrong, but because it was formed in a different time, with less knowledge of how we carry and transmit pain. These new tools help us to heal, to stay present, and to love more freely.
In the end, contemplation is not about escaping life but entering it more fully. It is how we listen for God in the silence—and how we hear God in the cries of the poor, the groaning of creation, and the joy of being alive. It is how we remember what’s good and live from that place for the sake of the world.
Reference:
Adam Bucko, “Contemplation Is the Marrow,” ONEING 13, no. 2, A Living Tradition (2025): 15–16, 20. Available in print and PDF download.
Image credit and inspiration: Jesús Boscán, untitled (detail), 2021, photo, Venezuela, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. Movement, like blood through our veins, carries us deeper into the mystery of God—ever flowing, expanding, and reshaping our understanding as we learn and embody the teachings—just like a living Christianity.
Story from Our Community:
I was baptized in the Roman Catholic Church. I attended a Roman Catholic elementary school and three different Catholic high schools, which included a two-year stint in a seminary. My wife and I were married in a Roman Catholic Church and raised our two boys in the tradition. At 73, I am in the last quarter of my life, and I have discarded a lot of what I consider religious baggage. I now tell people that I am a “follower of Jesus,” trying to live by the “terms and conditions” of the Sermon on the Mount.
—Eric F.
