Chapter 25: grave faults

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A brother guilty of a graver fault is to be excluded from the common table and the oratory

Who is excommunication for?

Dealing with excommunication in a culture like ours is difficult to understand. The last two weeks reflections have been an exploration of the need for context; the first week, the context for St. Benedict and the second, our own context. The two are very different in both cultural norms and the inevitable difference between cloistered life and parish life. I don’t want to dismiss these chapters, however, just because the specifics are not applicable (or not easily so). It has made me consider how, in parish, we deal with grave faults and what do we deem grave faults.

Once I started asking myself what constituted ‘grave faults’ I was struck by the clear answer:

If a brother is found to be stubborn, disobedient, proud or a murmurer, or at odds with the Holy Rule, or scornful of his elders’ directions.

Some of these do not affect those of us outside monastic vows and a ‘Holy Rule’. There are some, however, that do and leaves us with a sour taste in our mouth, or it does for me anyway. For I am stubborn (at times), disobedient (at times), proud (a little more). I struggle with ‘murmuring’ and it has been known for me to allow my lack of understanding of directions to work out into action. Most of these failings are kept buried in the secret place of my heart and I assume the same must be true of at least some of the brothers in Benedict’s communities. There s some universality of these faults that make me ask whether there is something else to be considering here, rather than the generic struggle with sin.

Excommunication and admonitions are not about personal battle with sin or the continual work of the working out of our salvation but more about protecting a community from the out workings of that sin. The ‘penance’ is there to protect others from the necessary impact of sins control of us. It is one thing to be committed to one another in our weaknesses and quite another to be battered and bruised by another’s failure to control sin.

It if often said that there are extreme circumstances when one must leave the presence of another in order to love them. I’m thinking here of addiction, violent behaviour or temptations. If you are trying to stay clean from substance abuse but are in a relationship with someone who cannot control their own urges, to stay with them would put undue strain on yourself to resist. Step out from the situation and you may be stronger then to love and support them.

We live in an age where we pay too little attention to the interconnection between all things. We delude ourselves into thinking that what we do does not affect others or our environment. Our actions and sometimes our attitudes impact others who we don’t even know and therefore do not consider. This, for me, is the problem of the individualist elements of liberalism. We consider ourselves masters of our own happiness and are willing to concern ourselves with others up to the point of which our own freedom and rights are intact. Sacrifice and self denial seem to play little to no part in these forms of liberalism.

I have struggled with the ethical and moral conversation in our country because of this issue. I am pro equal rights but without a balanced and realistic anthropology we fall into self autonomous entities striving for personal gratification creating violence of the heart and action and great conflict. I won’t reiterate my personal view to adopt a Hauerwasian approach to social ethics but I recommend, if you’re interested, to read my most recent post on it and/or search this site for any mention of Stanley Hauerwas.

For me it seems apparent that all our actions and attitudes impact others and that is why personal sin is a corporate issue. If I steal it impacts others. If I abuse substances and cripple myself with addiction this impacts others. John Donne famously noted, ‘no man is an island’ and it remains true. The sin of one is the sin of all. In the blindness of our own individual pride we consider this unfair when we judge some faults to be graver than others and we compare others’ faults with our own.

I was sat with someone in Food Bank on Monday whose experience of humanity was not glowing to say the least. With a history of sexual abuse, neglect on both personal and social level and indoctrination by self justified criminals this person was now an unrepentant thief who saw it was only fair to steal from corporation and the rich as they are doing far worse without punishment. They did not care or give a second thought to the impact of their cations on others. They wanted to consider their actions morally justified but, unfortunately their actions impacted others in ways they were not willing to accept.

The social dynamic of excommunication becomes apparent with ‘graver faults’ for we still understand this form of punishment for these sorts of ‘crimes’. If someone is a sexual predator is right to impose sanctions which put no one else in risk whilst at the same time communicating to the offender that their actions are not healthy or appropriate in a social setting.

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No Condemnation

As excommunication relates to both admonition and protection of community it must be a last resort and must be managed by a superior. If it is used at every situation then love cannot be shown and the failed brother will feel overly condemned. This condemnation is neither just nor godly. I’m reminded of Paul’s assertion,

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. (Romans 8:1)

If too harsh a sentence is placed upon a brother then it may well lead them to succumb to sin even more. Here we return to the story of Cain and Abel. Cain already feels injustice has been done to him by God. God, in his next encounter with Cain, is clear when he expresses his love and care of Cain despite excommunicating him to Nod. Cain responds with pity and repentance and God forgives and protects him. The punishment is dealt for murder but even then God is bigger than sin and can forgive even the gravest of sins if we let him.

I’m reminded of a story Tony Campolo tells of a conference where he was invited to speak. It was just after Jim Bakker was exposed for his part in a sex scandal and before Campolo was introduced the moderator said,

We must learn to distance ourselves from the likes of Jim Bakker, lest the world out there think we are all like him.

This is not an appropriate understanding of excommunication for it does not leave room for repentance and forgiveness. Campolo goes on,

When I got up to speak, I said, “First of all, this is no time to distance ourselves from Jim Bakker. This is the time to embrace a Christian brother who is suffering. If we don’t do that, we negate what Jesus is all about and contradict all that we say about unconditional love. We should be embracing him, not establishing distance from him in his loneliness and time of need. Second, the only difference between Jim Bakker and the rest of us is that they haven’t found out about the rest of us yet. There is enough garbage in each of our lives that if all that was true about us was flashed up on a screen in the middle of a Sunday morning service, almost all of us would have to resign and run away and hide ourselves. Almost all of us have secrets, but we haven’t been exposed, so it does not befit any of us to condemn someone else who actually has been exposed.” (Tony Campolo in Tony Campolo and Shane Claiborne, Red Letter Christianity: living the words of Jesus no matter the cost (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2012) p.28)

My immediate reaction to that was one of restraint,

But Tony, I haven’t been involved in deliberate financial fraud and sexual indecency!

And as the thought crossed my mind I realised that I am comparing my sins and judging them to be smaller or less significant to Bakker’s. God looks on all sin as the same and forgives them with the same weight and seriousness: sin is sin, to fail is to fail. We are all condemned but (and here’s the great news!) we are all forgiven.

“Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” (Luke 7:47)

Reflection

How do we deal with faults in our communities and parishes? Do we push people out for ease of life? Do we jump too quickly to punishment and condemnation rather than seeking the best for both individuals to receive God’s just and righteous grace and the community to be defended against temptation?

I’m struck again by the need for an abbot to know each monk in his care, to judge the correct and wise approach to penance. This cannot be done with universal markers. This admonition must stem from relationship, without that then it will be faceless and broad condemnation rather than supportive loving guidance and direction. Our penal system remains faceless and it is only when people are listened to and understood for the uniqueness of their context, motives, etc. can they be restored and transformed. This is why I’m a big supporter of restorative justice.

Perfect Judge and Loving Father, I’m sorry for all my faults both conscious and unconscious. Forgive me in your great mercy and lead me to the right path by your grace. Help me to forgive those that hurt me and whose actions impact me. Defend me against evil and lead me not into temptation.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 24: the measure of excommunication

It is ironic that after beginning to reflect on forgiveness and modes of reconciliation I should be in need from you, my dear reader, for forgiveness. I am disappointed with my self that I was unable to meet my deadline for publishing a post last week. I have my excuses! I am set to fly to Portugal in a week or so and to take some time out of public ministry takes an equal amount of time to prepare. I’m off for two weeks and so the last fortnight has been almost none stop; every moment available to work has been filled and, I’m sorry to say, one of my rest time has been taken over too. I’m also trying to think of the time I can carve out to write the next two weeks reflections in lieu of me going away. Maybe I should leave it until I get back…

Anyway please forgive my tardiness and lack of writing. I hope you understand.

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For minor faults a brother should be kept from eating at the common table

Why are we not afraid of excommunication?

I have been reflecting on the nature of excommunication and why it is not used all that much anymore. The banishment of a member from a community is not all that big a deal in our society. We excommunicate ourselves so often that to banished by someone else is a familiar experience. In our highly individualistic culture many of us are already starved of meaningful relationships and community that to be told not to participate is of no great significance. In fact maybe our equivalent is to be forced to stay in community as penance!

It was Billy Ocean who once wrote,

When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

I’ve never fully understood that lyric but I’m inclined to disagree. When the going gets tough, the tough dig in It takes boldness and strength to stay even when relationships are sour and there is a breakdown of communication. It is path of suffering and heartache to walk that way and no one will walk it without ending up with scars but we walk it because God chose to walk it and it is in his shadow that we journey.

In olden times when we were more aware and appreciative of the worth and value of community, families and our social aspect to be cut off from other humans, to experience the complete lack of connection with an other would be a shocking and terrible thing. Today, when loneliness is so rife, this experience is not a punishment but almost an accepted reality. To be self-sufficient, self-reliant is an expectation and to be dependent on another is weakness of the highest order. This lie is a sickness that needs a drastic healing.

Excommunication, being refused a place at a common table, is in no way a punishment or a fear in our age; it is an expectation and assumption of millions of people. Mother Teresa famously said,

The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty — it is not only a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There’s a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God. (Mother Teresa quoted in REACH, col.27, no.4 (Grand Rapids: Christian Reformed Home Mission, 2001)

I’ve been reading Ian Mobsby’s and Mark Berry’s excellent book, ‘The New Monastic Handbook: from vision to practice’ and reached a chapter on practicing healthy communities. When talking about trust and belonging in new monastic communities they write,

The formalised virtues and spiritual practices become the bedrock for developing trusting and accepting relationships in the ecclesial community. Some new monastic communities encourage people who have to work hard at maintaining a healthy relationship, meeting regularly to ensure that communication difficulties or problems do not occur or escalate over time.

When a breakdown of relationship happens the punishment is not excommunication anymore but super-communication because loneliness is now a default not relationship. It pains me to write or acknowledge that but it is so true.

Reflection

The challenge today when living in community is not about how to get people to come, it’s about how to get them to stay! Everyone wants to be in community. There is an ideal community they hold to and the reality soon strips that romantic vision away. When the reality of living with others’ brokenness hurts (and it will hurt) staying feels like a punishment; it is no longer easy or expected.

Relationships of love, however, require a choice, to stay or to leave. This choice must be present at all times and must be genuine. To keep people in community is no longer loving but you hope that each member will find the strength to stay and bear the fruit from trust and belonging. The healing of our individualistic culture will come from people living the life of committed relationships of love. This is how we, as Christians, reveal the reality of God, to live in the supernatural strength of His love, grace and forgiveness and allow Him to shape us, as His body, into His likeness, God in community.

Holy God, Three in One, how beautiful is your love and fellowship! We desire to know and participate in the Triune strength of community. We need your strength to help and hold us at those times when our weakness breaks others and divides us. Save us from our selfish ambitions and vain conceits.

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 23: excommunication for faults

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If a brother is found to be stubborn, disobedient, proud or a murmurer…

When is enough enough?

As we head towards the middle of the year and, having prayed through the Rule of St. Benedict for 24 weeks, I have begun to ask:

What happens when someone fails to live in accord with others?

We all hold some ideals of behaviour and moral decisions, however loose they are. We are all soon aware, after spending any time with other people, that we all fall short of our own expectations and the expectations of others. It is easy to beat ourselves up over our repetitive failures and disappointments and easy also to point out the faults of others. Even if the ‘law’ does not exist in concrete terms there are always guidelines or expectations within a group of correct ways to behave and when those expectations are not met there is a cry for justice or a lesson to be learnt.

Having reflected a lot on discipline over the last two weeks and how I respond to different forms of it being exercised on me personally, I have found that I appreciate it when people package criticism or complaint within a reminder of deep and real relationship. I wrote two weeks ago about the need to be known; to be in a long term trusting relationship, where character formation can happen. Our deep changes in character cannot be done in a vacuum or in some distant, business-like environment but in deep and loving relationships. I respond to people who have committed to me before they tell me my faults.

It is important not to automatically jump over the first stage of St. Benedict’s guidance to admonition. The Bible suggests if one hurts or causes conflict within the Body of Christ then they should be told, privately, on two occasions. This is harder than many of us are willing to give credit for. To go and tell someone directly and in love, in case of falling into reproof ourselves, is tough and vulnerable. It is easier to gossip and moan behind their back and then gang up with others and expel them… I sadly speak from experience.

The ‘failings’ of a fellow Christian is easier to speak about when the matter is small but we put it off and imagine it will be a one off. Rarely, if at all, are the large indiscretions not preceded by smaller minor offences. There is always that first sign of trouble. Take the story of Cain as an example.

After Cain and Abel take their offering to God and God prefers Abel’s to Cain’s, Cain’s ‘countenance fell’ (Genesis 4:5); he gave up. It was that small thing that shows he had allowed envy and jealousy into his heart. It was this small moment when he gave in to that voice in his head which said,

God loves Abel more than you because you’re… and he’s… It’s not fair.

That small paranoid voice that demands more attention or interprets others actions wrongly is a small seed which can fester and grow. It can quickly escalate into bitterness and anger and then to murder.

The question is when do you say something? When is enough enough?

In my family I was taught it was easier to talk about a small, relatively isolated issue before it embeds within someone’s character/personality and before it gets tightly woven into multiple and varying examples of actions and choices; before everything gets complicated and muddied. I was also taught it was easier to apologies at this stage rather than having to go back over many incidents. If you can acknowledge a problem early on it is easier to manage/‘master’ (Gen 4:7) It’s as God says to Cain,

If you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.

Resisting selfish instincts is hard work and to keep watch over them is a full time occupation that is why we are put in communities, into families. The correction, however, must be done with love, which is patient and kind, not envious or boastful, etc. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) To face wrongly expressed ‘truths’ is often painful and unhelpful in developing in character. What is needed is both grace and truth.

So when is enough enough? I’d say when it is easier to say something gently and patiently rather than when it is out of control and ingrained.

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Ministry of Reconciliation

After a year of being an ordained priest I have already had my share of conflict and need for reconciliation. This aspect of priestly ministry has been important in my personal understanding of vocation. The ordinal states,

Formed by the word, they [priests] are to call their hearers to repentance and to declare in Christ’s name the absolution and forgiveness of their sins. (The Ordination of Priests, Common Worship: Ordination Services, The Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England: The Prayer Book as Proposed in 1928; The Alternative Service Book 1980; both of which are copyright © The Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England)

To reconcile warring parties is to stand between them and hold them together in peace. This position means that you can become enemy to all sides as you try to mediate between them. Reconciliation is painful but it is to follow Christ in His ultimate work on the cross. Paul writes in Colossians,

For in him [Jesus] all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:19-20)

Over the next six weeks we will be reflecting on judgement, punishment and forgiveness but I want to begin by saying that the severity of punishment of excommunication must be understood and exercised within the complete mercy and grace of God who has reconciled all things in Christ. What that means is that all things are held in their correct place and relationship by Christ. Without this acceptance that God is working out that reconciliation, that bringing together of all things into harmony and right relationship with one another, then excommunication is a further severing of relationship.

Reflection

Conflict is hard and gut-wrenchingly painful. I have sat through break downs of relationship in churches, in marriages, in families and in businesses. I have been divided within myself as I see two friends or groups that I care for turn their backs on one another and vow never to speak again. I have tried to sit between people and encourage dialogue and peace and I have failed on many occasions. For me, peace and reconciliation can only occur when relationships are deep; deeper than the superficial exchanges we now label ‘relationship’. We, as a society, now settle for second rate relationships and miss out on sustaining and life-giving intimacy because we are afraid of the risk that it takes to enter such a commitment.

Loving Father, Prince of Peace, thank you for being the source of peace. Thank you for the blessed Trinity, community of love and commitment, our epitome of relationship. We are sorry for the times we cut ourselves off from others by our attitude, actions and words. Forgive us and bring us back to your love where we are held and transformed.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 22: how the monks are to sleep

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All the monks shall sleep in separate beds.

Why are you making this more complicated than it needs to be?

When I first read this chapter I was struck by how context is important when reading this document.

What is being described by St. Benedict in this chapter seems very odd to my modern brain and to enforce this on modern day monks would be a bigger deal than St. Benedict seems to be giving it credit.

If possible they should all sleep in one room.

They will sleep in their robes, belted but with no knives.

The younger brothers should not be next to each other. Rather their beds should be interspersed with those of their elders.

Each suggestion brings with it big questions:

Why do you need to even mention that monks sleep in separate beds or even that they not take knives to bed?

Why sleep in one room? Surely then you’d not need to be concerned about elders interspersing younger monks; I’m guessing they are likely to talk into the night!

So here is some context that has helped me to feel settled and to hear what God is saying through St. Benedict.

In Europe in those days it was uncommon for average people to have their own bedrooms. Families slept in one room. It was a luxury even for parents to have their own private room. Monasteries were a spiritual family and did pretty much the same thing… By our modern standards nothing was terribly private in Benedict’s cenobitical monasteries…They also slept fully clothed. This was to keep them ready to rise to meet Jesus in prayer at vigils around two or three o’clock in the morning…Few people actually had nightclothes in those days. The average person slept in regular clothes and used his cloak as a cover. The monks were no different. (John Michael Talbot, Blessings of St. Benedict (Minnesota: Order of Saint Benedict, 2011) p.23)

In those days sleeping arrangements were different and therefore the view of bedrooms was different. Today we see a bedroom as a private space, one that, generally speaking, is considered deeply intimate and personal. Teenagers become possessive over this space, demanding privacy and solitude. The clutter and mess is allowed in that space because they have authority and ownership over it.

None of these issues of privacy and solitude would be raised in a monastery at the time of St. Benedict but other concerns were being addressed. These seem so alien to us and from our different culture/context it seems the solution would be to change in line with our modern approach. Indeed that is what modern monasteries have done. The issues being raised here, I think, are the probability of younger, un-disciplined monks talking together late at night and then not being able to get up to pray. Also the issue of unity and familial understanding of the monastery; the fact that this chapter follows the chapter on the appointment of deans with its implicit sense of hierarchy beyond Abbot and monk is telling, I think.

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The Family not The Business

I am more convinced that the major issue with the Church of England at the moment is that we are discovering the cost of treating the Body of Christ like a business/institution. I have explored this distinction between organism and organisation before and continue to see how this conversation needs to be had and acted on. The monastery, in the Rule of St. Benedict, is seen more in terms of organic and familial. This does not mean that there is not structure or guidelines but these are more flexible and therefore useful.

If we treat a church in the terms of business then hierarchy rules and is the structure in which we exist. This brings with it questions of power and authority and people’s roles define them rather than their character and relationships with others. Someone is treated a certain way because of what they do rather than how they are known and they invest in relationship. Leaders then become figures treated with suspicion and thus are forced to assert authority or earn trust and respect. From this sense of needing to justify their position we get the whole culture of models of leadership that are systematised and objective.

I find the thought of hierarchy and the way authority is expressed within it difficult and, at worst, abusive. I baulk at its imposition upon me and obedience is not easy. Obedience in the familial settings seems more understandable to me and I wonder if others in my generation feel the same. I wonder if this is at the heart of why ‘millenials’ (or whatever you want to call people my age) struggle with the church (see ‘Chapter 5: obedience‘ post). I wonder if it is not the content of our worship or the beliefs we explore and journey with but the way we structure ourselves that put them off. What if they were invited to be a part of a community akin to a large family? There would be the authority figures within that community which were not enforced but emerged like any family. There would be those that were elected to teach and those who were looked to to organise but all would be natural and organic.

It is natural, when entering a new community or family, to be tentative and inquisitive. It feels wrong to enter it and demand you are heard and that everything should change to fit you but equally there is an organic process that is usually assumed within families that new members are accommodated but there is a natural order to family life as to authority and power. This image of the church as family comes naturally to me but it has been abused by the church as we stress the ‘family of God’ image but live out a ‘business of God’ model.

I’ll finish with this short piece written by the Lindisfarne Community:

Leadership in monastic communities was traditionally by the Abbot or Abbess (in the desert tradition Abba and Amma), meaning father or mother. In other words, leadership was seen to be of a familial relationship rather than, say, the hierarchy of military order or, as we would have it today, the bureaucratic efficiency of the modern business corporation. Monastic community is more akin to an extended family with parental care and oversight.

Of course, in the ancient world obedience to parental authority was a primary requirement and in the ancient Rules were rigorously enforced. Modern sensibilities find those practices too strict, not to say psychologically damaging. Nonetheless, the notion of spiritual parenting remains valid if reinterpreted through the lens of our modern social construction of the parental task: unconditional love and care, setting an example, creating boundaries in which to exercise freedom, a wise and gentle correction when necessary.

Abbots and Abbesses in their turn, were in relationship with bishops who acted as spiritual advisers to the monastic community. This practice of mutual accountability is much needed as a counter to contemporary radical individualism.

Reflection

How do we recapture the organic understanding of the church? How does a parish church become, for those without a family environment to flourish within, ‘home’, with all its instinctive distribution of authority and participation? How do we re-structure or re-imagine the church to release these natural gifts of God as He portray in Scripture? I would suggest it starts with those who currently sit in authority.

For those who find themselves higher on the hierarchical ladder to step down and take the bold move of following Christ who did not consider equality with God something to be grasped. It takes someone who is perceived by others to hold power to relinquish and hand it over, to surrender it and live out, radically, vulnerability and intimacy in relationship. This is highly costly but I get the sense that it is what God wants of His church for today.

Loving Father, you welcome us into your family as heirs of your Kingdom and as adopted children. You encourage us to take our place and to participate in the working of this family. You hold us and teach us as we grow and learn. We are sorry for what we’ve made your church. Help us, particularly those of us who perpetuate the hierarchical divisions that have seemed necessary, to risk relationship above position and to live out the organic and familial images that you spoke through your Son Jesus Christ, who said the Kingdom of God is like a Father who had two sons…

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 21: the deans of the monastery

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In a large community respectable and devout brothers should be chosen and designated deans.

Why Deaneries?

The term ‘dean’ comes from the Latin ‘decanus’ which meant ‘leader of ten’. It was a Roman military term which was adopted by Benedict and other monastic orders as role within a community. Deans were appointed to assist the Abbot in the oversight of monks. In large communities with a number of members it would be a challenging, if not impossible, task for a single Abbot to know each of the members to the degree needed to advise, direct and discipline each one in spiritual formation. It is pragmatism that births this role but I am aware of the importance, particularly after the week I have had.

It is not right to go into the details of what happened and what was said but by the end of last week, after several conversations and encounters I was bruised. I had faced several meetings in which I felt singled out and accused based on assumptions and mis-interpretations of who I am and what I want. My actions and words were taken and misread. I was faced with words like ‘aggressive’, ‘threatening’ and ‘disruptive’. These words bite and in repeated experiences through the week I felt like people who I thought knew me were intervening to save me from ‘causing any more damage’. I needed to be stopped.

This was difficult not least because of the shock and surprise. There was no indication in any of these encounters that I was doing anything wrong. After the second or third meeting one must (if they hadn’t already) begin to ask themselves where these impressions are coming from. I began asking that question after the first one so keen am I to learn and grow.

By the end of the week and after lots of reflection, pray and discernment (both alone and with others) I found myself realising that I need to be known. We all need to be known. What I mean by that is not just people who know what we want them to know, like the identities we build on social media, but know us beyond that, know us deeper than we sometimes know ourselves. In this kind of relationship you are held with great care and are watched over by those who know what you’re capable of; good and bad. This knowledge is the kind that God has of us and, as the Psalmist writes,

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it. (Psalm 139:6)

This is where the importance of a monastic-like community comes into the picture for me. I have found, after all that happened last week, a stronger and deeper call to live in an intentional committed community that can hold and support me as God develops and forms me. In these places of vulnerability I find that I am more useful to God in serving others because I know his protection and care through other people.

I have realised afresh this sense of isolation in ordained ministry and I don’t think it’s healthy. In the parish system with the model which was has been throughout the 20th century and continues today the minister is expected to be both part of and yet distant from a community whom he/she serves. There is a necessity, in order to survive, to have a public/private divide.

Don’t be friends with your parishioners!

I have never liked this aspect of public ministry and I have seen and experienced the pain and rupturing that this causes people. It makes me sick in the stomach to stand up the front of a gathering and to be forced, out of fear, to be smiles. It is a lie and it is not what people want or need.

The church does itself a devastating disservice when the ministers and pastors are taught to keep their doubts, their formations, their pain and struggles hidden out of fear that people may lose respect for them.

If those in a community really knew who I was then they’d realise I’m no different from them…

I’d love to quote Henri Nouwen from his famous book ‘The Wounded Healer’ but there are so many that I cannot choose. That book opens up the portrayal of a future leader who is able to articulate his own roundedness to invite people to face up and deal with the inner confusion of the human condition. Leaders are not there to promote ideas but to encourage people to share lives. How can this be done when the leaders/ministers feel isolated and lonely and unable to speak out their experience of this.

This is where I see the potential of deaneries.

Deaneries in the Church of England have varied success and failures but it is a common problem that they have very little purpose. Below the Deanery Synod is the PCC a singular local meeting of members of one congregation. Above the Deanery Synod is the Diocesan Synod a collection of representatives from the multiple congregations to meet and discuss things with a bishop and his staff. The Deanery Synod is an added level which has little purpose except to vet items from a singular congregation to the larger multiple meeting of the whole Diocese.

The monastic view of ‘deaneries’ is, in my reading of it, based on the need for monks to be known. Deaneries play a part in ministers/leaders (lay and ordained) being known. Deans, therefore, take on the role of knowing them, praying for them, advising them and disciplining them. When that function is taken away and they no longer are encouraged by the ‘abbot’ (bishop) then what are they for?

Reflection

I see great potential in deaneries but, as they are, they are purposeless. To see the church grow and find a deeper faith and spirituality we need to seriously reflect and shift the structures so that they are used for the furtherance of that goal. Whilst we keep this historic structure as it is without a clearly defined role then the more we will fumble about in the dark. I am grateful for the deep questions and exploration of my Rural Dean and Deanery Synod Standing Committee but they have a thankless task whilst people remain cynical, tired and disappointed by experience and would rather just close it down than breathe new life into it.

I offer this reflection not with a definite vision but with the hope of re-discovering values. What if there was a place for ministers and leaders, representatives who take on responsibility of leading congregations to be known, to speak honestly and to be supported. What if the Rural Deans were released and encouraged to have the capability of ‘sharing the abbot’s responsibilities’ rather than just plugging the gaps. What if power and authority was given to deaneries to be a place where the leaders (lay and ordained) of a particular collection of churches come together to pray and to be known. What if we begin to see ministry based not on individual autonomous parishes but in deaneries? What if ordained ministers were placed to work in a large team, under the direction of a dean, to serve the people of those parishes?

Lord of the Church, we are struggling to adapt to the changing landscape and to see where you are leading us. We thank you that you have already faced these issues countless times before and it is from the monastic tradition in the past that you have re-ignited faith in this land. I pray for Rural and Area Deans and pray that they may be encouraged and released to lead your Church. Grant unto us all wisdom and discernment as to how to move forward. I pray also for all who are burnt out and tired, isolated and lonely in leadership. I stand with them and weep. Surround them with people who know them who can strengthen them by your Spirit.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 20: reverence in prayer

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If we wish to ask a favour of those who hold temporal power, we dare not do so except with humility and respect.

How do we pray?

At the end of this section on the Divine Office it is interesting that St. Benedict decides to end on the topic of humility. The chapter before this section was also about humility. It seems this is of the deepest importance to St. Benedict and is at the very heart of the Rule for community life. It has been this revisiting that has made me re-read my reflections on humility.

I still struggle with this. I wrestle in my inner life trying to work it out and allowing God to shape me free from my resistance. I am increasingly aware that one cannot do this work in isolation; one always needs a community around them to help in the practice of humility. This community must, together, commit to the work of supporting and holding one another as each one enters into the process of going deeper with God.

St. Benedict uses the experience of being in the present of humans who hold significant power and how, when we are with them, we are aware of our our own power (or lack of it). We naturally compare ourselves with one another and this is most definite when the contrast is large. It is only when the difference between us and others is clear that we are forced to acknowledge it to ourselves. It is in these times we know where we stand in the ‘pecking order’.

At the end of this week I will visit Archbishop John Sentamu of York. He has recently taken on the role as Episcopal oversight of the Deanery of York of which I am a part. He now is my bishop to whom I go to for clergy review, discipline and support. I have always really appreciated ++Sentamu’s ministry and we have shared many good conversations together. He ordained me both as a deacon and a priest and we have served together on the Step Forward conference run each year at Bishopthorpe Palace.

Despite having shared some social time together, as well as more formal occasions, I am always deeply aware of the weight of his presence and his authority. I may have questions or doubts as to how he uses that power but nonetheless I am acutely aware of his abilities to wield it both for good and (potentially) for bad. When we talk I rarely talk at great length due, in the most part, to my awareness of lack of knowledge and authority on subjects. On both legal, spiritual, theological and ethical matters ++Sentamu has more experience and expertise than I and should bow out of any debate. I did try once to argue that St. Aidan was to be given more credit than St. Paulinus and St. Augustine for the evangelisation of England… I tried but I think I failed!

This respect, forced or deserved, that I feel in the presence of ++Sentamu is not debilitating nor destructive of a relationship. As well as feeling inferior I also feel respected and cared for by him. My respect for him as a person is, I hope, mutual. I know he is interested in me and my ministry. I think he wants to see me flourish and wants to support me. I am listened to by him and, as much as he can, he looks out for me and holds me in some esteem. I am thankful for this relationship and thank God for our partnership in the Gospel.

St. Benedict uses this experience to portray our relationship with God. God is much more worthy of respect and awe than ++Sentamu. God alone is to be feared but, along with this fear there is also a deep sense of the safety and love God has for us, his children. When we go into his presence in pray we are to balance these emotions.

Some of us err, too much on the side of familial and breeze into God’s presence with conversation and chit chat. There’s nothing wrong with that. God loves to speak to us and have relationship with us but we should never take such relationship for granted. At times a colloquial relationship with God can lead to forgetting the heavy price paid for such a relationship which we should always be mindful of and thankful for. This awareness of the weighty grace shown to us should lead us into a deep awe and amazement at what he has done in order to have the conversation you so easily can have with him.

Others, however, err on the side of fear and trembling and see God so high and lofty above us that he remains distant from us with little affection between us. Christianity is unique in its understanding of God as, Abba Father. Jesus revealed a desire of God to be intimately involved in our lives like a good father is. Most religions see God as Creator and all powerful, and rightly so, but they miss out on that close and caring father image. Christians, following the example of Christ, emphasise this fatherly image because God has shown he cares for us by his death and resurrection.

God, in the Bible, is described as both a Lion and a Lamb. He is a lion because he is fierce and dangerous, ferocious. He is also known as a lamb, led to the slaughter, pastoral and innocent. The lion image creates in us a caution; no one would walk into a lion’s cage free from fear and respect but it would take something particularly peculiar for someone to be afraid of a lamb. Our approach to prayer and our relationship with God should be as C.S. Lewis describes it in his Narnia series. When the children enter Narnia for the first time, Aslan, the God figure in the series, is described by Mr and Mrs Beaver. Lucy asks whether Aslan is safe,

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.

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The different kinds of prayers

I am aware of the different types of prayer that we participate in and yet we only use one word for them all. We say prayers in church services, and at Divine Offices. We pray alone, in pairs and in small groups. We pray out loud and in silence. We pray requests to God. We pray for discernment. We listen. We talk. We pray out of duty and we pray out of need. Contemplation is prayer just as much as extemporary, charismatic prayers. All of these have something different about them but they’re all called ‘prayer’.

It is wrong to suggest one is superior to another but equally it would be wrong to not use one type by telling ourselves they are all the same. To say, “I don’t pray out loud because it’s just the same as praying in silence.” leads you away from praying with others and sharing the public side of our faith; it would be like saying, “I don’t talk to my friend when other people are in the room.” It’s weird! In this chapter, St. Benedict is speaking specifically about prayers in the Divine Office. Philip Lawrence, OSB, Abbot of Christ in the Desert, suggests,

The admonition on short prayer in community comes from the way in which our ancestors looked at prayer. Quite often the saying of prayers was seen as distinct from the prayer itself. After saying a prayer, then one prayed in the heart and this was considered “prayer.” So in some of the early traditions, after each Psalm there was a short period for this spontaneous cry from the heart to the Lord. It is this type of prayer that must be kept short and pure–and not prolonged because it really cannot be prolonged. Attempts to prolong such prayer are usually just show and not reality. (Philip Lawrence, “Chapter 20: Reverence in Prayer”, Benedictine Abbey of Christ in the Desert, May 20 2014, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/890.html)

Reflection

I continue to reflect on the place of prayer in communities. I’d be interested to know if research has been done on how the frequency and nature of prayer changes a communities experience and understanding of God. I am currently part of two particular communities with very different views on prayer. One, my parish church, has a broad understanding of prayer and each member seems to have a different view on what it is and how it should be done. This emphasis is not bad and, as a minister and teacher in the community, it is part of my role to encourage people to develop their prayer life to all the different types of prayer. The other community is Burning Fences which used to read a liturgy from Celtic Daily Prayer from the Northumbria Community, at the end of our weekly gathering and now finds another kind of prayer. It was noted during a discussion last week that the inclusion of prayer has slowly morphed into a reflection on spirituality rather than a direct prayer. The place of prayer, i.e. talking directly to God, in Burning Fences is an interesting topic which we will need to raise as we move forward.

Abba Father, Glorious and Majestic Creator of the cosmos, I thank you for being my lion, defending me from foes and being able to fight for me the powers that seek to oppress me. I thank you also for being the lamb that was slain. I thank you that I can meet you in the Temple, where you sit on a throne high and lifted up and that I can meet you in the street, in the face of the poor and down cast, that I know you close by in my home and work.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 19: how the Office should be performed

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We believe that God is everywhere, and the Lord sees both good and evil in all places.

Why go to church?

As we come into land on the specific matters of prayer in a monastic community, like that of the previous section on ‘matters of authority’ (chapter 1 – 7), St. Benedict ends on an idealistic vision; a goal to aim for. He begins this picture by affirming

God is everywhere.

He does this to acknowledge that, yes, we don’t have to go to a particular place with a particular group of people to pray. You, as an individual, can pray in any place at any time but there is a time and place to specifically go to where his presence is particularly felt. This reminds me of words from Common Worship’s Eucharistic Prayer A which says,

It is indeed right, it is our duty and our joy, at all times and in all places to give you thanks and praise, holy Father, heavenly King, almighty and eternal God, through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord.

It does not take long for St. Benedict to highlight an often forgotten aspect of this argument; that, just as you can be in contact with God at any time and in any place you wish, so can he be with you seeing

…both good and evil in all places.

It is surprisingly frequent that I hear people proclaim their belief that you don’t need to go to church to be a Christian. Although I agree with that statement the assumption is not correct. What the person often means (you discover after some further questions) is that to be Christian is a matter of belief alone, ascribing to some statements as true or false or ‘hedging your bets’. To go to Church is seen as an unnecessary waste of time when you’ve already signed to say you are willing to be identified and ‘protected’ as a Christian (until it gets tough). The people I hear this from often cite the truth that God is everywhere and they can pray (if they want to) wherever they are. Indeed many people admit they pray, i.e. they say some words and, as much as they can tell, if God does exist, they think he hears and will act on their behalf.

What these people don’t always care to realise is that those moments when they are not aware of God, when they don’t consider God’s presence with them, God is still everywhere and he ‘sees both good and evil in all places.’ God can become an agent who is commanded to turn up when we ring our prayer bell and depart when we do not require his services. What this means is, that if you want to take seriously the belief that God is everywhere and this means you don’t have to go to church to be a Christian then you must also admit that God is part of every aspect of your life. Being a Christian is not about going to a particular location at a set time but it is about a genuine relationship; a relationship that is two way.

What makes someone a Christian is an active desire to be continually shaped into the likeness of Christ. We do this by reading Scripture and seeing the character of God, perfectly revealed in the person of Jesus in the Gospels. We do this by gathering with other people who are desiring the same change into their lives and discerning together what it means and looks like to be like Jesus. Church then becomes not a place you have to go to but a place where Christians gather to share, to be encouraged, to see Christ in other people and to re-commit themselves to the task of transformation. It is a hospital where the continual healing of our lives can be done in a safe space. We also get shaped into the likeness of Jesus by prayer. Prayer, in this instance, is about inviting God to enter into your life and begin the work of transformation and change. Prayer is the way we open up the wounds of our life to God who can heal us and set us free.

Change is always painful because there is some loss involved. Change can be exciting as well as new things begin to emerge but, as St. Paul says in Romans,

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:22-23)

Prayer is a two-way relationship one where we are invited to speak and share, to cry out for change, but it is where God is invited, by us, to speak and share, to cry out for change, often starting in our own lives. When prayer is only seen as a formal request to an unknown agent who delivers what we order then it falls and rarely satisfies. Prayer is about relationship and that is why it is harder than most people think because prayer asks something of us; it invites us to change and to lose something, an addiction to something that distracts or comforts us apart from God. We don’t care to admit it but we love the chains that holds us and imprison us (see ‘Lovers of Chains‘ post). We are all addicts to something and need healing and liberation. We rarely ask for it because the process is tough and the thought of letting that thing we deify, we hold up as our God, to go is inconceivable.
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Blind to Addiction

It is in R Kelly’s questionable song that he says,

My mind is telling me no but my body my body’s telling me yes

We are torn, as human beings, between that which we might consider noble and that which is more ‘instinctive’. Our conscience is trained to know what is right but our issue, increasingly, in our culture is that there is less shared ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. We do, however, continue to talk as if there is but everything is up for questions as authority is moved and changes. The difference between that which is ‘noble’ and that which is ‘instinctive’ is about that which raises us out of purely materialistic desires, the tangible and the animalistic into a realm of rationality and consciousness. These should be united but they are not always so.

We are creatures that can justify action. There is a wealth of opinion and countless beliefs we can articulate and ascribe to and any action can be explained. We are also in a culture of precedent so if someone else has done it then it is possible for someone else to do it too. This means when barriers are pushed and moved, they are irrevocably pushed and moved. We hope that our beliefs will inform our action but I think the other way is more true; our need to justify, to ourselves as well as to others, our actions shape our beliefs (if I did x I must believe y).

You will see this insight when you live with an addict. Their dependency on a particular substance is rationally justified. It is the extreme cases of alcohol and drugs that we are more aware of it but this justification that comes out of the mouth of those addicts comes out of all our mouths at some point. We may phrase it differently but it is the same,

I can’t help myself.

I need that person to feel secure.

Surely if this makes me happy it’s not wrong.

We justify to ourselves why we need the props and crutches in our lives and religion can be one of them. Having crutches is not necessarily a problem; if you have a broken leg it is helpful for a time of healing but the aim is to let go of the crutch and be free. Religion is a crutch while we heal, the aim is to be free.

My brother in law gave an image, which I find helpful. He was talking about the Law of Moses as St. Paul talks about in Romans. He sees the Law of Moses as a cast which you place over a broken part of our body; the cast does not heal the break but it protects it while it heals. The healing comes from the Spirit. The same is true, I think, of crutches. What is important is not the crutch but the healing.

The problem is we have an odd relationship with crutches. The analogy breaks down after a while so maybe it would be easier to talk about pain-killers. These are helpful and help us live with illness and pain but they can also become something we rely on and therefore blind us from our awareness of the need to heal. The initial problem may disappear but we don’t know and we become addicted to the pain-killers and we justify it to ourselves that we believe we still need them.

Reflection

St. Benedict ends this chapter with an interesting sentence,

Let us rise in chanting that our hearts and voices harmonise.

The aim in prayer is that our hearts and voices harmonise; so what we say is what’s in our heart but also what’s in our hearts is what we say. This extends, I think, to our actions too.
To be Christian is not about going to Church, about saying the right things, but is it is about allowing and inviting God into your lives to transform you into the likeness of Jesus. To be like Jesus is to have your voice and heart harmonised and that your heart is instinctively noble; that which you do without thinking is pure and Godly. We don’t perform Jesus but we become Jesus. We know what Jesus is really like by Scripture, by other Christians and saints and by prayer and the work of Holy Spirit through that relationship. Our authority then must be on three things: Scripture, Tradition and Reason.

Heavenly Father, you are indeed everywhere, you are with us at all times and in all places and you stand at the door to our lives and knock. You never force yourself in but you are wanting to be in our lives to make all things new. I’m sorry for the times that I have sent you back out of the door to hide parts of my life from you. I lie to myself and train myself to believe that you are in it all and you bless all my thoughts and actions but I know that that isn’t true because I’m not yet like your Son, Jesus.

Come, Lord Jesus

Home

home-sweet-home

We search for home;
We fantasise, we dream.
We pass through its hearth and warmth
In the pursuit of another’s sweet embrace.
We knock at its neighbour’s door
Enquiring about their provisions,
Measuring to see if they will house.
Then we return home
To decide when we can move.
We sleep in home’s bed, dreaming
Of one day achieving the rest
Of an imagined pillow that holds our head.

We run and run to grass always greener
And quickly forget which shade we were comparing.
We search and journey to find the elusive
And have fallen in love with the motif of quest
When what we truly desire is a place to belong.
We travel around the globe
To experience the new
Because the old has got under our skin
And has found out what’s there.
The old uncomfortably knows us
And we are scared of what it might say.

The braver person is not
The one who breaks new ground
And travels the world,
Discovers fresh territories
And explores the unknown;
No. The braver person is
The one who stays and allows
Their inner world to reveal its hidden-ness,
The wide empty spaces,
The dark corners and the questionable characters
That will take you for a ride
And milk you for all you’ve got.
It is in this inner place
You discover a landscape
Of immeasurable beauty
And a tranquility that surpasses location.

To know the riches of beyond externals
Is the fruit of the noblest task.
Home is not found nor made
From the vapour of our own imaginings;
It is forged in the fire of commitment,
The pressure of staying
And the searing heat of vulnerability.
The risk of relationship costs
More than any flight, visa or relocation;
All these put together and more besides
But the pay off can not be contained
In a bank balance, travel guide or holiday snaps.

Home is not just where the ones you love are,
It is where the ones you have wrestled with
And have stayed are.
Home is where you learn
That real love surprises you
By hiding under discord and alienation.
Home is where the heart beats
In a rhythm that Time has trained and honed;
A tempo that when you are anywhere else
Jars and irks and begins to lose itself.

Home is where obedience
Is rewarded with freedom;
Where one can grow
Thanks to the roots
And flourish
Thanks to the soil.

Written after a weekly Burning Fences gathering at El Piano, York where we shared reflections on what we are looking for in our individual futures. The common theme of ‘home’ emerged. This was then read at a Burning Fences event called ‘Family’ on Sunday 11th May 2014.

Struggling with No-Man’s Land

I have, in the past, been a fan of the part ii’s, the part iii’s, etc. I was going to name this post ‘Fleeing to No-Man’s Land (part ii)’ but I realised that the verb was wrong. I am calling this ‘Struggling with No-Man’s Land’ because that better describes my honest, if not entirely correct, emotion at the moment. This post comes from my continued reflection on the community which I love, Burning Fences.

If you have not read my first reflection, which I remain completely committed to, then please read it here before proceeding…

…

Nomansland…Ok. Since I wrote that reflection there has been a growing sense of some footing being lost amongst us. We have felt, at different moments, that we have lost our way or the passion has waned. This has been due to various small events in the life of our community which have combined to create not a destruction or a despair but a niggle, a question to arise: what are we doing?

I, in a broken and fumbled way, attempted to voice this concern to my fellow fence burners to see if I was alone; I was not. I tried then to gauge where this ‘dis-satisfaction’ was coming from. It was not clear. We all had different theories and, therefore, different solutions. We gathered together for a weekend away and I ‘hosted’ the space. I didn’t do a perfect job but I tried my best but even at the end of this wonderful time together there was a niggle; quiet but persistent, like a headache which has become habitual, not debilitating but present, sometimes forgettable but, in the still times returns to remind and prompt attention.

After the weekend away I sent out an email to some to see if people thought it might be good to have an open meeting to discuss this ambiguous question of how to acknowledge what Burning Fences is.

This desire to define and name came with a great heaviness for me as I still believe that there is a danger in this course of action. With definition come boundaries to cross, requirements to meet, entitlement to battle with, etc. The temptation to do so is great and most follow it but seem to come unstuck by it. I wonder whether this is our challenge, as a community, to pioneer the narrow path away from it and lead others to a secret place of truly organic and free space. Is such a place possible?

And this is why this post is called ‘Struggling with No-Man’s Land’ because I am deeply torn. The call/demand on my inner being to follow suit and define this community is great. I have justified how we can do it without damaging the freedom we have enjoyed in not defining or acknowledging. Most of these justifications come from a deeply held understanding that with no markers we must be prone to float from one thing to another and there is no defence against any ‘spirit’ or idea which could equally destroy than strengthen, enslave as to liberate. There is, in this non-demarcated space no source of discernment accept our flawed concepts of reality and shifting judgments.

the_clearing_by_crossieA wise brother amongst us wrote a deeply honest and profound response to my call for a discussion. He named the beauty of Burning Fences as ‘a clearing’. He writes,

We run into problems when any one group tries to colonise the clearing.

That sentence struck me as deeply important. How? I’m not sure.

In a discussion about Burning Fences with someone on the periphery looking in we were described, by them, as either,

A secular space in which Christians inhabit and live out their faith.

Or,

A space created by Christians and where anyone and everyone is invited to come and inhabit.

Both have strengths and weaknesses. The first image has the strength of describing the Christian as a resident alien, a guest who honours the code of hospitality that guests have. It’s weakness is that it can easily be seen as an invasion or takeover. The second image develops a sense of hospitality. There is a basic assumption in good hospitality that the guest is free to make the space their own and the host serves them and welcomes. The problem comes when the power is mis-read and, no matter how much it is expressed, the space is never owned by the guest.

There are big questions here of our understanding of hospitality and one which we must wrestle with but both these images are not apt descriptions of Burning Fences because the space in both has an ownership by one party. Hospitality requires a power-game between host and guest. My wise friend and fellow fence burner is closer: it is a clearing which is not owned by anyone. It is ‘no-man’s land’.

The beauty of No-Man’s Land is that it is neutral territory where everyone is simultaneously both host and guest. The different parties come together and build together.

It reminds me of Vincent Donovan’s approach to his mission to the Masai described in ‘Christaianity Rediscovered’. He writes this,

…the unpredictable process of evangelization, [is] a process leading to that new place where none of us has ever been before. When the gospel reaches a people where they are, their response to that gospel is the church in a new place, and the song they will sing is that new, unsung song, that unwritten melody that haunts all of us. What we have to be involved in is not the revival of the church or the reform of the church. It has to be nothing less than what Paul and the Fathers of the Council of Jerusalem were involved in for their time – the refounding of the Catholic church for our age. (Vincent Donovan, Christianity Rediscovered (London: SCM Press, 2009) p.xix)

It was in No-Man’s land that peace came, for the briefest of moments during the Great War. It was in the middle of the deeply dug trenches that people were free to meet and experience peace in a simple game of football; neutral, no power games, shared. This is the beauty of such a clearing.

I begin to realise that my issue at the weekend away was the locus of hospitality was skewed. I, along with a select few others, were ‘hosting’, and others considered themselves ‘guests’. This has a definite dynamic in the relationship and how people respond to the space created. What I wanted was a shared ownership but I attempted to achieve this by ‘hosting’. This is where the invitation to a radically different hospitality comes into its own. One which I consider godly; where the host is the guest, the guest the host and service is from all to all in a beautiful mutually loving community.

But is it sustainable?

In this space, what is the source of discernment? What is the shared authority? What fosters peace and reconciliation? What is it that guards against colonisation? For me, as a Christian, what does it mean to see God’s Kingdom extend and grow in this place where no name can be spoken over it? Where does No-Man’s people move to?

orthodox-priest-in-kiev-jan-22-2014This is our quest: to inhabit, together, No-Man’s Land. To share the space making no claim on it for ourselves or the parties, agendas and personal empires which we are tempted to enforce. We desire, however, to build our home there for to be at peace one must feel a sense of belonging. To what are we committing and how can that be spoken in this between place?

I am convinced this is our challenge and one which, if manifested, will break a temptation that many groups have suffered under. There is a great weight to the task that lies before us and I pray to God for wisdom and boldness to enter in.

Chapter 18: psalms – order to be chanted

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Monks who chant less than the entire Psalter, with canticles, each week are slothful in their service to God.

How much should I be praying?

For ten weeks now I have been praying and meditating on the place and structure of prayer in the life of a monastic community. During this time I have been asking myself, whether it has been communicated on this journal or not, what place does prayer take in my life? The answer has often been: I must try harder. This is a common response to prayer and Bible reading to many Christians, ordained, lay, within religious orders or not. It is easy to compare ourselves to others or to our perception to others or , even worse, to an impossible ideal. There’s a proverb within the church which says,

Prayer is like sex. Most people lie about how much they’re doing it and how well it is going.

It is easy to compare ourselves to others and to beat ourselves up on how lazy and difficult we find prayer, reading the Bible, service to the poor, etc. We do it instinctively. If it’s not the person sat next to you in church or your own priest or lay workers then there’s a renowned saint (for me it’s people like Shane Claiborne!) who we project onto heavenly virtues and exult them to ‘super-Christian’. I am reminded of Jesus’ last exchange with Peter in John’s gospel,

Peter turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them; he was the one who had reclined next to Jesus at the supper and had said, “Lord, who is it that is going to betray you?” When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, “Lord, what about him?” Jesus said to him, “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? Follow me!” (John 21:20-22)

What is that to you?

Those words should ring in our ears when we find ourselves falling into a self-destructive cycle of despair. When you find yourself saying,

I should be reading the Bible as much as [insert name of idealised version of a fellow Christian here].

Or,

I wish I had their prayer life. They’re always praying.

Having said that we must be careful also to be realistic with our time. Most of us could prioritise prayer and Bible reading better but that’s the truth of priorities; you prioritise what you prioritise. We need to firstly acknowledge what we do prioritise and why. What is it that you consider more important than prayer? What do you turn to before you turn to prayer or reading the Bible? Why does this, or ‘these’, things take precedent? Are they easier? Are they more enjoyable?

For me, it’s TV, social media and work.

I justify TV because it’s important to rest and wind down after work. I justify social media because it’s important for me to know what’s going on in the lives of my friends, family and communities. I justify work because I’ve been called to it by God and people are relying on me to support them in their lives. But that’s all these priorities are; justifications. On their own and in isolation there’s nothing wrong with these activities and, yes, they need to be done and be a part of a balanced life but the reality is I minimise my time in prayer and reading the Bible in favour of doing those three things.

Added to that I lie to myself about my prayer life. I find myself saying,

I pray while I…(e.g. look at my Twitter stream/Facebook wall).

At times I do but that is not always a deliberate thing, a dedicated time set aside to speak with God. Most of the time it’s a one way dictation of things He has to do for me. The same is true for reading the Bible; I say,

I read the Bible today while I prepared for… (e.g. a sermon).

That’s not the kind of reading that feeds the soul; that’s work. I read it with a particular energy; I’m listening for that teaching point, that image which will help people to connect with the passage. I don’t always find myself asking those personal questions like,

What is God saying to me in this?

Don’t get me wrong, I do ok. At morning and evening prayer (and at times, midday prayer) I engage with Scripture on that level and I pray for a dedicated time but even these times are dry and distracted. These times are dedicated and disciplined for the very reality, for me, that I just won’t ensure I am praying as much as I should. This is not about comparing with those dedicated intercessors and pray-ers in the Body of Christ but a basic level for any disciple to remain rooted in God.

I’d suggest to ‘normal’, working (paid and unpaid) Christians engaging in the world, that at least one regular time of prayer a day is minimum. That time of prayer, what ever form it takes, should be undistracted and deliberate for a minimum of fifteen minutes. This is not an excessive amount of time. Consider how long it takes to drink a cup of tea? When you start to consider a regular time when, presently, you are doing nothing, you will begin to realise how much you fill your days with all manner of tasks without even considering the time you dedicate to it. I catch myself on a regular basis, unconsciously walking upstairs into my office and turning on the computer without knowing why. Habit and routine take over and I tell myself I’m busy and I create work for myself. It’s easy to do.

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Rhythms of prayer

We who live in the world all need to acknowledge that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to dedicate the kind of time that a Benedictine community spends in prayer. If we add up the typical time spent in prayer for such a community it would be about 3 1/2 hours in Divine Office/communal set prayers then an hour of prayerful reading of Scripture and half an hour silent personal prayer we can see that a monk should be praying 5 hours a day. Be careful not to start comparing yourself and beating yourself up about how ‘lazy’ you are! Remember that that 5 hours is split up and goes into the night but even that would have a big impact on our energy levels if we are also trying to hold down a full time, or even part time job, possibly a family and commitments to a Church community.

For a New Monastic community who have to balance the everyday life of family and employment with prayer and service, a more realistic rhythm of prayer should be established. This will be different for each expression and for the lives of those involved in such communities but it will require, like that of St. Benedict’s, a framework which will hold the community accountable; a framework and guidance as to how much is possible and helpful for prayer to be a priority.

As I said, I find a set time time in the morning, before I start work, and one in the evening just as people are finishing their work. My work often stretches into the evening so that evening prayer is praying that the work of many in my communities will bear fruit for God’s Kingdom. A commonality between such ‘monastic’ communities is an established morning prayer either said at the same time by all the members and, if possible, in the same place. Some have a Night Prayer others an evening, some have midday prayers but each is flexible to help and guide the community to have prayer woven into the routine.

After about five years of a rhythm of prayer (which has changed and evolved) I feel odd when I am not praying at 8.30am a set Office (be that Common Worship or Celtic Daily Prayer). My wife knows that at 5.30pm I will be praying and we have set dinner time around that fact. I schedule meetings around this time and say to people who ‘need’ me,

I’m sorry I have a meeting then.

On occasions I need to adapt and move stuff but that must be done prayerfully and with consideration.

Starting a day with set prayers, for me who is not a morning person, is useful as I don’t need to be ‘up for it’. I turn up and I am quiet with god. I find I repeat the same quiet prayer before I begin,

Oh Lord, I am so tired, give me strength for today.

I then use this time to go through my day and as I remember all the things I have planned I invite God into them.

Lord, will you be with me as I meet with…

Lord, what is it that you want me to say to…

Lord, help me face this difficult challenge.

I find, as I perform the tasks of the day I remember my prayer that morning and repeat it before I begin, as I do it and after it is done. These are not dedicated times of prayer just quick short repetitions remembering God with me as I go about my business.

Reflection

This part of my blog has slipped at times from what I had intended it to be. I had wanted this section to be a possible practical step I could take to move from theory to action. This week I want to ponder what this rhythm of prayer looks like in community.

In my parish we offer morning and evening prayer for anyone. Both times are not easy for people to make. There are many reasons why people can’t come but I suspect that anytime would be difficult because rhythms of prayer are not understood and challenge people’s priorities. I sit with one or two others at both times. We have a routine and we are flexible when necessary. I would love to build a community that came together each day to dedicate themselves to prayer together.

To do this in a parish would require a dedicated season studying and teaching on the subject and then a focussed discussion on what that prayer would look like for the members of the community there. I don’t think we ask what prayer looks like as the Body of Christ on a daily basis. This challenges our Sunday focussed life together and also what we see our role in society as.

Lord, call your people to yourself each day to hear and receive all we need from you. Take us from our lives and shape us into disciples, placing us back into those lives changed and equipped for the building up of your Kingdom in the places we are sent.

Come, Lord Jesus.