Filling the accumulated void

Photo: unsplash.com/@eldergrizzly.

I’m currently in the middle of reading Paul Theroux’s latest collection of short stories. And I came across an interesting philosophical idea: the accumulated void.

It’s sort of a Buddhist idea. It means that over time we learn again and again that nothing lasts forever. Every joy, every sorrow, every success, every failure eventually passes.

Each time we realize this, it adds to our understanding that life is always changing. What we gather up is not possessions or achievements but a kind of emptiness or void, or more appropriately, holy openness.

At first this can sound sad. Who wants to gather emptiness?

But emptiness here does not mean nothingness. It means freedom. It means we do not have to cling to things that cannot stay. It means there is space for compassion and peace to grow.

As Christians, we hear something similar in Paul’s letter to the Philippians. He wrote that Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped.

Instead, he emptied himself and took the form of a servant. This self-emptying is what we call kenosis.

Jesus poured himself out so that God’s love could be seen in him.

This shows us that emptiness is not the end of life. It is the beginning of new life.

The more we let go, the more God can fill us with love. The more we release what we are holding, the more room there is for the Spirit.

In Buddhist words, we accumulate void.

In Christian words, we are emptied so that God can fill us.

Both speak to the same truth. Love grows best in open hands, not in hands that cling.

Maybe that is my invitation today. To notice what I am holding too tightly. To notice what weighs me down. And to trust that if I let go, I am not left with nothing. I am left with Christ, who fills me with mercy, compassion, and life without end.

And so it could be for you.

I leave you with this meditation:

At first, I held on tight.

Then I saw that all things pass.

Now I see that even passing is holy.

Void upon void,

and yet a cross still stands.

Emptiness upon emptiness,

and yet a tomb is filled with life.

The mountain of nothing

becomes the mountain of mercy.