Category Archives: Parish Monasticism

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

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.

Chapter 17: the number of psalms said in the Day Office

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If the monastic community is numerous, the Hours shall be sung with antiphons; if small, without.

What is the place of artistic expressions within a community?

I have been on a community weekend away with Burning Fences where I was privileged to be able to organise/lead the input. I was acutely aware that, we, as a community, are experiencing some of the natural friction to life in relationship. There are multiple desires and visions to balance and contend with, there is the encouragement to bring brokenness and struggles into the public sphere in order to be known more deeply. All of this brings a highly volatile space and one that has, simultaneously both great potential for liberation and great risk of suffering and pain. We are not the first nor are we alone to experience some of this; it is the natural risk of relationship which commitment demands you fully enter and grasp.

I introduce this week’s reflection like this merely to highlight how this beloved community, who I consider to be the place from which I speak, the people with whom I speak and the situation to which I speak, is continually leading me into an deeper understanding of what a monastic apostolic community looks like. It also is proving to be the practical out workings of my reflections on the Rule of St. Benedict and I find that both inspiring and encouraging.

The other reason I begin by discussing Burning Fences is because, on the weekend away, we used Open Space Technology to hold conversations about that which is important to us as a collective. One of those discussions was on the place of creativity in community and explored (for the parts I was there for) the specific part of Burning Fences’ life; artistic expression/performance.

All of Burning Fences appreciate art in it’s many forms but not all of those who gather are able to contribute or, feel that they would like to. For some, Burning Fences is a place where they can explore new artistic endeavours, to try out and collaborate, but for others they don’t feel they are ‘creative’ in this way. Although I would not use that word for what they are expressing, choosing rather to use the word ‘artistic’, I do agree that there are some who are more competent and able to perform/present art in our group while others question what they have to offer to feel a part of Burning Fences.

On the Friday evening of our weekend away we held a ‘community circle’. This ‘community circle’ is a combination of haflat samar, story circles (traditionally held in the old celtic church) and Caedmon Evening (currently practiced by the Northumbria Community). The framework of the evening is everyone is invited to bring something to share as an expression of any kind. This contribution can be a simple joke, an epic poem, a song, a quote, anything that they think will inspire or facilitate reflection. I, as host, began by reading a story to frame the evening. I read a rewriting of Bede’s account of Caedmon who, loved listening in on such evenings but never felt able to contribute until, one night, he found himself dreaming about God giving him the gift of song. When he awoke he was able to sing beautifully. After this story, the group then participate in a collective act of art/liturgy. In this context liturgy acts as a binding together and bringing people together and encourages the group to express a shared desire or identity.

After this shared act the space is open for anyone to speak into it. People are encouraged to listen and respond how they feel is appropriate. The order of presentation is completely self-governed and each person places their contribution where they feel it fits best. By the end of the evening everyone had contributed something and it had flowed beautifully. There were some performances which may have been judged ‘better’ than others but in the light of day I could not tell you which was which because in that space of community it was not the objective quality that was important but the way in which we (and our offering) interacted with others. (You can read a poem which I wrote during our ‘community circle’ here.)

So what is the place of artistic expressions within a community?

For many communities the use of music and song is central to their community gatherings. Rituals and liturgical frameworks use music and rhythm. A community at its most basic is a social group whose members share a commonality of some kind. In order to maintain a cohesion to any community there needs to be an expression of that shared commonality, be they beliefs, locality, ideas or any other identifiers. This most profound way of doing this is through the evocative and emotive use of music. Artistic expression, therefore, takes an important part of many communities.

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The place of art

What I find interesting about this chapter in the Rule of St. Benedict is the directions for when a community is small.

If the monastic community is numerous, the Hours shall be sung with antiphons; if small, without.

This is music to my ears (excuse the pun). I do not have a strong singing voice and I am very self conscious. I love to listen to singing and particularly choral harmonies but I struggle to participate. I join in singing if there is enough noise to drown me out and I am confident no one can hear my unstable voice. If I am leading a small group and I would love to worship in that context then I must rely on others’ abilities to lead in sung worship or otherwise we don’t get to enjoy that experience. Even when there is someone else leading the singing I struggle to join in and end up mute hoping no one notices that I am singing and feeling concerned that I am distancing myself from the group.

One phrase that stands out from the discussion on the place of creativity in community, particularly a group like Burning Fences, was that,

Artistic expression is affirmed/valued but not enforced.

We, as a community, appreciate artistic expression and will encourage anyone, whatever level of competency they have, to contribute but we do not enforce it as a necessary part of membership. This does mean that the more experienced artists are more prominent when it comes to the times for artistic expression but that does not equate to being more valued within the community. We appreciate that offering because, for some, we cannot make it but we want to enjoy it as a gathering activity but that does not mean that those members who can are in some way more important. If there is no offering in this way then you adapt, for the act must primarily be a communal expression and only then must we consider the practicalities of how we make it happen.

Artistic expression is appreciated but it is not a marker of your place in the community.

Reflection

Community should be a space where people feel safe and free to let down forced personas and be vulnerable. This makes community a difficult place because there is a high risk of it getting very messy very quickly and this kind of life should not be entered into lightly. It does require a level of commitment from a number of people or it will never achieve the level of trust and intimacy required for this vulnerability to be life-giving. It is only in a safe, trusting, committed community where people are free to explore new expressions of themselves and embrace the risk of failure in working out relationships and connection. This can be done through artistic expressions and, indeed, it is a special kind of expression, but it is not the only way.

We at Burning Fences, appreciate and affirm the musical and poetic expressions of beauty and we enjoy them together, even though not every member can directly contribute. We, the more experienced/confident artists are only able to express our shared commonality by listening and knowing all members. Membership is not measured by the artistic contributions one makes but by the depth of relationships you participate in.

Creative God in Trinity, you make us to know and enjoy beauty with others. We thank you for the ability of some to create beautiful music and song, images and poetry. We thank you for others who create beautiful relationships with equal skill. We thank you for others who support the beauty of life in their skills to construct order and stability in practical ways. We thank you for all of this as expressions of your immeasurable creativity in all things.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 16: the Day Office

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The prophet says: “Seven times daily I have sung your praises… I arose at midnight to confess to You.”

Why prayer?

There seems to me to be a distinction in ministry between those who are apostolic and those who are monastic. These two distinctions traditionally make up the balance of the Church’s mission in the world; ‘to go and tell the world’ and ‘to watch and pray’. These two calls on the Church make up the heart of the New Monastic Movement, ‘contemplative action’. The Northumbria Community speak of this as their call to being ‘Alone Together’.

As a Community we’ve always understood the need to balance ‘a prayer that is quiet and contemplative with a faith that is active and contagious’, in expressing our way for living.

St. Benedict, in this chapter, gives reasons for the Divine Offices by quoting Psalm 118 (119),

I arose at midnight to confess to you… Seven times a day have I sung your praises.

Therefore, in Benedictine communities, they pray at eight set times a day: Matins (midnight) and then, Lauds (before sunrise), Prime (6am), Terce (9am), Sext (midday), None (3pm), Vespers (evening/6pm) and Compline (bedtime/9pm). This rigorous pattern of prayer just emphasises again the centrality of the call of such monastic communities to prayer and contemplation. Thomas Merton finishes off his wonderful book ‘Contemplative Prayer’ with these words,

Without contemplation and interior prayer the Church cannot fulfil her mission to transform and save mankind. Without contemplation, she will be reduced to being servant of cynical and worldly powers, no matter how hard her faithful may protest that they are fighting for the Kingdom of God. (Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (London: Darton, Longmann and Todd, 2010) p.144)

I quote Merton here because in this book and his other work ‘Seeds of Contemplation’, dedicated to the practice of contemplation, he continually links it to the mission and practical action of the Church in society. For this spiritual writer, famed for his call to the hermitage, the life of a monastic is intrinsically linked to the missional and apostolic work of the Body of Christ. Without one you cannot have the other.

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Monastic Apostles/Apostolic Monks

Monastic comes from the Greek word, monastikos (from the root: monos – alone). Monastikos means ‘to live alone’ and was used to describe the hermits and Desert Fathers and Mothers of the early Church. These hermits became teachers of this solitary life and gathered around them a community of ‘novices’. This, over time became the basis and foundations of the monastic communities we see across the world. All of them owe their tradition to St. Anthony and the many other Desert Fathers and Mothers (Abbas and Ammas) who went out from society to dedicate their life to communion with God without any distractions of life. The monastic call, therefore, is to the dedication to watch and pray.

The apostolic call, I would suggest, is to take on the Great Commission given by Christ at his ascension,

Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. (Matthew 28:19-20a)

Apostolic comes from the Greek word, apostolikos (from the roots: apo – away from and stello – to place, set in order). Apostolikos means ‘to send away’ or ‘to be sent’ and was used to describe those whom Jesus sent to witness to his Kingdom and Resurrection in the Gospels. These Apostles also became teachers and in Acts it is said that the Church,

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. (Acts 2:42)

It is useful, at this point, to draw our attention to a story in Mark’s gospel which illustrates this balance between being alone with God in contemplation and reflection and to be sent out to do his work in mission.

Starting at Mark 6:6b we read,

Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

They become ‘apostles’, sent out to build and spread the Kingdom. Then, after the death of John the Baptist, we meet the ‘apostles’ again.

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves.

Now they are being called to be alone, solitary, in a deserted place; they become ‘monastics’, alone with Jesus. But the story does not finish there.

Now many saw them going and recognised them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. When it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now very late; send them away so that they may go into the surrounding country and villages and buy something for themselves to eat.” But he answered them, “You give them something to eat.”

The disciples, wanting to be alone with Jesus see the need of the society in which they find themselves and they want to remain faithful to that monastic call so they ask to send the crowd away. Jesus, however, calls them to enter again into ministry and give them food. They don’t achieve that much needed ‘monastic’ time.

After the crowd are feed and Jesus reveals the Kingdom of God amongst them, he dismisses the disciples to a remote place and he himself goes to be alone with God.

The Divine offices in the monastic community are to remind the members to pray throughout the day. It is to call them back to their specific call to prayer and contemplation but, as we shall see later this year the community is not to disregard the call to mission and action. I am aware now that, St. Benedict has structured his Rule like that of a house; he begins with the foundations of character (humility and obedience), then comes the basis of prayer and contemplation, after which we shall explore community and relationships, then we look at the place of work.

Reflection

It seems that there is a need for both the monastic and the apostolic

Like all personal and specific calls from God to a particular ministry, we must be careful to hold them within the context of the wider call of all disciples. It is not right, although many preach this approach, to ‘specialise’ in a ministry to the detriment to the call to the basics of all disciples. For those of us who are more inclined to the prayerful contemplation, we must remind ourselves that to be transformed into the likeness of Christ is to be missional; sent people. For those of us who are more inclined to the evangelistic action, we must remind ourselves that to be transformed into the likeness of Christ is to be prayerful; alone with God.

Although I feel a strong call to the monastic life, I am also aware of the apostolic charge given to me by God. We are all to witness to the resurrection in our lives, to help all people that we meet to encounter the risen Lord. None are exempt from this work! The Kingdom of God is a collaboration between Christ and his bride, the Church, that is all of us who are baptised into his Body. Likewise non of us are exempt from the call to watch and pray with Christ and we return to the Merton quote above which identifies, helpfully, the need for contemplation, reflection, a deep listening prayer to be the basis of all missional activity; without it we will be building our own empires of sand.

Missional God, who calls us to solitary places to watch and pray with you, call us all to the life of contemplative action where, rooted in your grace, and will we may obediently follow you to feed the hungry, heal the sick and to make disciples. Where we have been lax in prayer and contemplation give us strength. Where we have been faithless in our witness to others may you give us courage and in all things may we have faith hope and love to serve you.

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 15: the seasons during which Alleluia is chanted

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The Alleluia is to be sung with the psalms and responsories from Easter Sunday until Pentecost

Is it Hallelujah or Alleluia?

This chapter is very timely as we begin Holy Week. St. Benedict is discussing the use of the Alleluia chant within the prayers of the community and it might seem, to some of you, of little importance as to whether we are able to say ‘alleluia’ at some times and not at others. At worst this seems to be legislative for no reason and we should be able to say it at anytime. This is true but, for St. Benedict and the Western Church, there is a reason which can be helpful.

The question of the traditional liturgical customs is a litmus test within Christian circles; one which can become petty and pointless very quickly. For one tradition liturgical seasons, cycles, formulas and customs are of no use and arbitrary and we should be set free to respond to the Spirit in the way we see fit. For the other end of the spectrum liturgical guidelines are helpful as they lead us through a rhythm of the year which, when our feelings and natural instincts let us down we can be held within a framework by the grace of God. As with most things it comes down to intention and approach. The liturgical traditions of the church were set out for very important reasons and were there to help guide and protect the Church from every fresh wind of teaching. They are, however, like the Law of Moses; designed to be helpful but can easily suffocate and destroy if not treated properly.

In this day and age with electricity giving us extended working light, preserving food well beyond their natural seasons, we have little to no appreciation of seasons. This is particularly true of food, work and weather. We have done well in the developed world of being able to control our environment and it is possible to get what we want, when we want it and in the way that we want it. There is no sense of being restricted by external influences. When these restrictions impinge on our lives it frustrates us; when we can’t get the item of food we want, when we are unable to work when we want and when we are unable to travel to the places we want.

The world, however, relies on the season to give balance, to give rain when it’s needed and sun. Creation is a delicate system which has worked since well before humanity learnt how to manipulate it. The pre-industrial humanity were very sensitive to times and seasons and set their lives by the creation around them. They were in tune with it and were able to steward the world in a sustainable and natural way. In recent decades, with the effect that civilisation has had on the environment we are looking to reinstate this ‘eco’ agenda. The difficulty comes when it effects us, when it impacts our lives and it costs us. We don’t want our desires to be restrained; this doesn’t make us happy and surely that is what we want, to be happy!

Liturgical seasons are the same. They are there to force us to be sensitive to the ebb and flow of life. The book of Ecclesiastes names this,

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

There is a time to celebrate and there are times to be penitent. If we only followed what we felt and thought, with our limited understanding of our inner life, then we would be probed to fall heavily into personal preference. The liturgical structures defend us from that. They correct us. They give us a balanced diet, room for rest and work and appreciation for all spiritual weathers.

So, for the matter at hand; Hallelujah/Alleluia means ‘Praise the Lord.’ It was left untranslated by the early Christians and was understood to be one way to remain connected to the Jewish faith from which they came from. As the New Testament texts (the gospels and the letters) and it reached people with little to no understanding of the Hebrew language it was finally transliterated. Greek has no ‘h’ equivalent and so that letter was dropped creating Allelujah. It then evolved, when translated from the Greek into Latin to Alleluia.
Of course we can ‘Praise the Lord’ whenever we want to. In fact the Psalms tell us to do so! The Psalms also encourage us to do the opposite, to challenge and rail against God. There are times when we need to experience the times when we can’t ‘Praise the Lord’; we need to enter into times of experiencing the perceived absence of God to better appreciate our need for Him. For St. Benedict, ‘Alleluia’ is not used through Lent, a time when we are called to reflect on our human natures, the darkness that exists in our world and so, when Easter morning arrives, we drink in the Allleluias for we have thrusted for them for forty days.

But, as I said before, like most things, this custom can become suffocating and restrictive. That which meant to bring life and a roundness to our spiritual life, can easily become death to it. Jesus’ issues with the Pharisees was not that they were completely wrong, indeed he says of them,

For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 5:20)

The issue was that they were too cautious and protective. Issues of fasting, sabbath, healing that Jesus locked horns with them over, all of them came down to freedom within the framework. The rules and guidelines are there to enable us to be safe but free. If we cast them off then we are vulnerable to the whims of our temptable spirits.

Reflection

As a priest in a parish, I see it as my role to watch the edges of the Christian community, not as a patrol guard but as an advisor. To look out for those who get hurt in the wide open fields beyond God’s Kingdom and to bring them into safety. To remind people who stray beyond the boundaries the sustenance and blessings of that which they are leaving. Ultimately to bridge that fringe as a point of connection.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe the Church should have rigid edges, barriers and walls. I see the Church as centred rather than edged. This is best explained by a short parable:

The Kingdom of God is like a manager coming to check on one of his farms. The farmer who ran the property and kept the sheep welcomes the manager to the homestead and gives him the freedom to look around and to assess the health of the flock and take an inventory.

You are free to explore the acres of land and bring back your report of what you see and find.

The manager sets out to walk the grounds that sprawl into the horizon. He explores the land that is marked on the map as belonging to the farmer, he checks the quality of the grass and he counts sheep. Having not fallen asleep after such an exercise he makes random spot checks on the quality of the meat and the health of the animals.

What he views is very good and he is impressed with the farmers care and clearly profitable oversight of his treasures. The sheep are healthy, happy and safe, the grass and grounds are well kept and free of chemicals. After a long day he returns to the farmhouse to meet with the farmer.

It’s all very impressive.

The manager says,

The sheep are healthy and you have many ready for market. There is one thing, which troubles me… You don’t have any fences. Your land is just spread far and wide and there’s no visible demarcation to the neighbouring farmers’ lands. How do you keep all your sheep together and close by?

The farmer replies,

I dig very deep wells.

As an ordained person I am to be the sign of connection between the local expression of the Body of Christ and the national, global and historical Church. I am to keep us rooted in the faith, passed down from generation and generations; a faith which has been shaped by the wisdom and experience of the ages passed. This is not always a comfortable place or role to play but it is a cost. Yes, traditions must be tested but I deny the temptation to flee or reject the framework when it doesn’t please me or gets me what I want. Yes, I speak from a privileged position of being a white, male, middle class in a historically powerful, often oppressive, nation. So I turn to the church of the liberation movement who, as far as I can read, are strict observers of tradition and find the joy and freedom within the strength of the Apostolic faith based on the creeds and formularies of the Church.

Tradition acts as the deep wells, tried and tested in many contexts. They are not the water, but the channels through which we plunge to access the Living Water, Jesus Christ. I find it comforting to know that no matter how I’m feeling, how weak or broken I am I can go to the wells and find water. Our job, as the Church locally, is to carry people too far from the water to the wells and help them to drink.

Living Water, flow. Burst through the concrete tunnels we hide you in and protect ourselves from your flood with. For the places where we restrict unnecessarily, have mercy on us and reveal yourself.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 14: Night Office on saints’ days

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On Saints’ Days (feasts) and all Church festivals the Night Office should be ccarried out as on Sunday, the exceptions being that the psalms, antiphons and lessons are to be appropriate to these days.

Why remember the saints?

Coming from the reform tradition, i.e. protestant, this chapter may cause some of my brothers and sisters some confusion or a desire to pass over this short chapter as unimportant. Having grown up in the Roman Catholic Church, however, I have had to understand the importance of saints and, although I reject the need to pray to saints in time of need, I do see the benefit of identifying with them in the ‘communion of saints’. Spending a day meditating on the life of Christians who have died in the faith and, sometimes, for the faith is a great practice. It helps to inspire, challenge and encourage us in our own walk of transformation into the likeness of Christ.

On 24th March 1980, Oscar Romero, bishop of El Salvador, was assassinated whilst presiding at the Eucharist in a small chapel. This year I was reminded of his life and witness via ‘Daily Prayer’ of the Northumbria Community which gives a brief biography of particular saints on their feast day. Romero is a particularly significant Christian figure for me. When I was a teenager in the Roman Catholic Church I went through Confirmation, a rite of passage for any Christian who wants to take personal ownership of the faith given to them through Baptism. Now is not the time to explore the development of the rite/sacrament of Confirmation but it just needs to be said that, in my church at the time, it was customary to take the rite of Confirmation when you were 16 years old.

During the Confirmation service in the Roman Catholic Church the candidate chooses a saint’s name to be given. This is an interesting practice and should create an opportunity for the Christian to rename themselves and to have a development in identity as they try to identify with a saint of the Church. Unfortunately for our church, and the poor Archbishop who presided over our Confirmation, as teenagers, we didn’t take this very seriously and our year had chosen the most obscure saints names, not because of the example they set or the affinity we felt with them but merely to try to confuse the Archbishop (I’m sorry to him!) And so, one after the other, the Archbishop renamed teenagers in Tunbridge Wells,

Bonaventure, Sexburga, Zynovij, Bairfhoin…

And after these came me,

Odo.

So technically, I could write that my full name is Edward James Odo Lunn. I don’t!

After my Confirmation, as a group, we started a new youth group for those post-Confirmation. Our parish priest at the time, one Fr. Michael Evans, a godly man to whom I have been inspired throughout my life, named this group the Romero Group. We were introduced to the name and it was met with blank faces from all. Fr. Michael then introduced us to the life and death of Oscar Romero…

If I had known this story before my Confirmation, then I’m sure I’d have had the great privilege of naming my desire to emulate the walk of disciples to Jesus of Oscar Romero. Ever since hearing his story, told so passionately by Fr. Michael on that Sunday evening, Romero has been, in my mind, an exemplar of what being a disciple is like.

So on 24th March this year I dedicated the day to reflecting on Romero’s life and death. I changed my profile picture to a photograph of him and published some quotes and my reflections. You can read some of what Oscar Romero did and said here. The main thing I admire about Romero was the way he both remained steadfast in his faith and theology whilst adapting to the context in which he found himself. He was appointed to the Episcopal See of El Salvador because he was a conservative traditionalist and was deemed a ‘safe pair of hands’ in a time of great uncertainty and uprising in the lower classes. He remained, in my eyes, conservative and traditionalist but, after his Jesuit friend was killed, Romero’s ministry developed and he began standing with the poor and marginalised, to fight injustice. he did not betray his heritage or tradition, nor did he waiver in his theological standpoint but he grew into a deeper understanding of this.

I see the same characteristics in the new Pope Francis. It is the Catholic Church, based in the home of liberation theology, South America, which manages, in my opinion, to balance the love and commitment to Scripture and Tradition, and, at the same time, reveal the open love of God through Jesus Christ. There is no compromising at any point. It is a difficult and rare skill to be able to stand in that point of apparent paradox and contradiction that the power of God’s love is shown. Oscar Romero epitomises this ability to me and reveals Christ and it is this that I seek to grow into, with the help of God. To spend a day praying this prayer for help is a worthwhile and valuable thing to do.

But be warned: it is easy to read into the lives of the departed saints what we want to see. No doubt I have done this with Romero and with countless other saints I admire. It is a natural human instinct to make gods/idols in our own image; we’ve done it with Jesus, we can do it with one of his disciples. Take, St Aelred of Rievaulx, as an example. On his feast day (12th January) there was a flurry of articles and reflections on the question of St. Aelred’s sexuality. His most famous work is ‘Spiritual Friendship’ which is an excellent book on community and relationships. In this book St. Aelred’s relationship with younger monks, depicted in a series of dialogues with them, seems to be very close and intimate. In St. Aelred’s monastery, of which he was the Abbot, he allowed/encouraged monks to hold hands and to meet each other with a holy kiss. All this could be seen as an open acceptance of homosexuality within the monastery. I do not deny that St. Aelred is indeed encouraging close intimacy between brothers (and sisters) and is akin to that of a romantic couple but I refute that this necessarily means that he condoned homesexual practice. I doubt very much if he would remain as an abbot if he had been so ‘progressive’.

I love St. Aelred and his ideas about deep commitment between people of any gender. I encourage that sort of relationship now, same sex or opposite sex, but the complication comes when we discuss the matter of the sexual act and to immediately suggest that one must contain the other is a fallacy.

What upset me on the feast day of St. Aelred was the ease with which people ‘out’ed a dead man. Whether he struggled with his sexuality or not; whether he always wanted to admit to his superiors his same sex attraction or not is not our job to say for him. That action has been dealt with between St. Aelred and his God. However much we feel we are doing St. Aelred a justice in proclaiming his perceived sexuality, it is not our place and nor the reason he should be remembered. St. Aelred, along with all the saints, should be remembered for their proclamation and witness to God. For St. Aelred and Romero this must be only what they said and did not what we hoped they said and did.

Reflection

To connect ourselves with past Christians from a bygone era seems a dangerous thing to do to us in a progressive generation whose obsession with our own ability to ‘improve’. We are in an age where all progress is good progress and we are growing in enlightenment. We are now more informed and more rational than any generation before us and we are building on the past in positive and constructive ways. Unfortunately, the same could be said of the people in Babel. We reached a climax of this thinking during the 20th century when all our intelligence and rationality, all our philosophies and ethics culminated in the possibility of two World Wars and a death toll unimaginable before. Despite this fact, we still consider ourselves as evolving and improving.

For me, remembering saints, reading and learning the tradition holds and protects me from considering that I am in anyway unique or special without a great cloud of witnesses behind me. If I cut myself off from their example and their lives and deaths, I isolate myself. I leave myself open to the temptation and fallacy that I am an island and able to survive without God.  I build a tower of my own to reach the heavens in an attempt to displace God from His throne and take charge of the whole world…

Many have tried. All have failed. Alleluia!

Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Draw me closer to yourself, through the crowd of saints who gather round your throne where they worship and adore  you for your amazing sovereignty, grace and love.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 13: lauds – ordinary days

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Neither Lauds nor Vespers is to end without the Lord’s Prayer, said aloud by the superior, in a voice all may hear because of the thorns of scandal always springing – so the brothers, remembering their pledge in the prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” may purge themselves.

Why are we different?

After some continued emphasis on the use of psalms St. Benedict ends this chapter with a particularly clever device to ensure no member of the community forgets how community is truly built; forgiveness.

I’ve been reading this chapter during a week of extremely heightened emotions with various friends and family speaking on the contentious issue of same-sex marriage. Whatever anyone thinks on this matter we can all agree that it taps into a deep part of all our identities; if we are for the change in law then it brings out deeply held emotions for friends and family members and our understanding of happiness, justice and love. The same is true if we are against the change. It is a complicated issue, as the Archbishop helpfully highlighted on Saturday in Bury St Edmunds.

The difficult thing has been to be a part of a community, locally and on social media, where people are free to express their deeply held beliefs, which stem from deep seated conditioning, and create conflict, cutting others of different views. It is impossible not to state one’s view without upsetting or dividing from those that believe something different. We are all, at this point in time, acutely aware of all our difference. Is the solution, however, just to forget or minimise them and attempt to express similarities?

I have quoted John Milbank and Stanley Hauerwas many times in my blog and I return to a thought explored in Hauerwas’ book ‘Performing the Faith: Bonhoeffer and the Practice of Nonviolence’. Here Hauerwas uses Milbank’s reflections on the Christian understanding of God as Trinitarian, difference united.

The fact that Christianity has always understood God as the God “who is also difference, who includes relation, and manifold expression” means that any conception of God as monistic is proscribed. (Stanley Hauerwas, “Performing the Faith: Bonhoeffer and the Practice of Nonviolence” (London: SPCK, 2004) p.87, quoting John Milbank, “The Second Difference: For Trinitarianism without Reserve”, Modern Theology 2/3 (April 1986) p. 213)

Here we look to God who alone holds difference in peace. This activity is bound up in the eternal mystery of the reality of the Trinity and we do God a great disservice to speak of such incomprehensible truth in simplistic terms, as if we can understand and rationally and intellectually copy His Being. The truth is, however much we speak of tolerance and acceptance of difference, we do not live this out.

Difference “enters the existing common cultural space only to compete, displace or expel”; “in the public theatre, differences arise only to fall; each new difference has a limitless ambition to obliterate all others, and therefore to cancel out difference itself.” The best a secular peace can hope for, then, is a “tolerable” regulation or management of conflict by one coercive means or another. (Hauerwas, “Performing the Faith”, p. 88, quoting Milbank, “Theology and Social Theory: Beyond Secular Reason (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990) p. 290)

In the current issue of same sex marriage, I have been acutely aware of how we, as a society, have discussed (or not) and have spoken of difference. Despite a large amount said on ‘equality’, ‘respect’, ‘acceptance’, little has been demonstrated by both sides (me included). Equality has become ‘sameness’. Respect has become ‘live and let live’. Acceptance has become ‘permissiveness’. These values which we apparently share cannot be shared for the root and understanding of the terms are different. Let us not ignore that fact. Difference, if it is to be held, must also be acknowledged and held in the light. I said, early on in this process, that if we do not pay close attention to the how of the process then the deeper whats will remain unchanged. Yes we have same sex marriage but what is the cost? The church divided from society, people who are against are now ghettoised until they accept the status quo. If they do not then they are labelled ‘evil’, ‘unloving’, ‘bigots’. They are forced, through fear of being isolated from society, into giving up their views as wrong. The response for those for the change?

They will soon learn how backwards they are.

We will all look back on this and be shocked it took so long.

We have progressed. Have we progressed well, though? In all of this conflict, pain and suffering, division and vitriol, I’ve been meditating on these words from St. Benedict,

Neither Lauds nor Vespers is to end without the Lord’s Prayer, said aloud by the superior, in a voice all may hear because of the thorns of scandal always springing – so the brothers, remembering their pledge in the prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” may purge themselves.

Forgiveness begins with an open generosity to be willing to admit we are mistaken, even on issues of our own identity and sexuality. I understand my friends who are gay because I understand the complexity I have wrestled with in my own sexuality. Even as a heterosexual I am aware of my teenage life being confused with same-sex attraction. There was several boys in my school who I felt attracted to. Being from a liberal home and participating the arts which encouraged freedom of exploration and expression I was comfortable with the feelings I felt. In the end I decided to be heterosexual. I am more than aware of the more difficult and painful experiences of others and I am in no way trying to belittle those experiences all I’m attempting to do is to state my appreciation of difference, conditioning and complexity of how life shapes us through genetics, parenting and social norms.

From this point of acknowledging my unknowing I am able to enter into a knowing. Humility is that portal into which we step towards real community. Alongside humility is obedience; that call to, while waiting for clarity, to practice the art of life. I am wary, and have been for some time, the way in which a society now considers time. There is a fear that patience is seen as weakness and cowardice. There is the call to ‘make a decision’, ‘to act now’ which destroys any sense of the need for wisdom which only comes over time. I feel this pressure and the question it raises of integrity but obedience holds us, mostly in liturgical expressions, to try and move beyond the instinctive response, which we cannot tell whether they are good or bad or whether they will be constructive or destructive.

Being disciplined in obedience is perhaps the key virtue of a good and faithful performer. This is a skill that can be acquired only in communities that foster an ‘ecology of hope,” what Nicholas Lash calls “schools of stillness, of attentiveness; of courtesy, respect and reverence; academies of contemplatively.” (Hauerwas, “Performing the Faith”, p.100, quoting Nicholas Lash, “The Church in the State We’re In”, Modern theology 13/1 (January 1997) p.131)

Hauerwas goes on to say,

…the patience of a good performer requires a doing but also and equally important a suffering, an undergoing, a giving up, a receptivity, a capitulation. This giving up, however, is more a giving over or dispossession of oneself in the performance rather than a concession to fatalism… This ability to let go of oneself, to dispossess oneself in the very execution of the act, is a skill that is not learned quickly or easily and certainly not on one’s own. Indeed, if acquired at all, it is learned in communion and fellowship with others over the course of an entire Christian life. (Hauerwas, “Performing the Faith”, p.100-101)

This painful suffering of ‘ekstasis’ (the giving up of oneself) is to be done in a community where we are encouraged to do so. Many of you, dear readers, will immediately name one group who should learn to do this ‘giving up’ but there is our problem; we expect one group to without the other needing to. Those that are ‘wrong’ must learn to loosen their oppression of the other but which side is wrong? The traditionalists or the liberal progressives? True community is entering, together into the unknowing of human life and truth and giving up of ourselves, patiently bearing with one another in love AND truth.

This can only be practiced within a community which holds to an ‘ecology of hope’. Hope, in our current context, I would propose, has been replaced with Wish-fulfillment. Wish-fulfillment demands a particular action, a certain event to happen or object to be given. Hope, in contrast, is based not on specifics but on a trust to something beyond ourselves. For Christians this Hope is set in God and Jesus Christ. I have wishes that things turn out my way but I hope in God.

How then do we proceed in a society where there is no shared authority? I wish to have an intentional engagement with virtues; a teaching and sharing of ideas in a public setting. This is not going to happen and so I hope in God who holds and creates difference from His singular source of Divine Love which far surpasses our paltry imitations of the emotion. We, in community, must fall on our knees in silence and live and act in patience for wisdom and revelation.

…performance that is truly improvisatory requires the kind of attentiveness, attunement, and alertness traditionally associated with contemplative prayer. (Hauerwas, “Performing the Faith”, p.81)

Reflection

St. Benedict knows the difficulty of living in community and so, even amidst the prosaic outlining of liturgical practice he reminds the members of the need for humility (‘Forgive us our trespasses’) and the painful suffering of obedience to a source outside of ourselves (‘as we forgive those who trespass against us’) In the parish context, we are part of a manageable group of people, linked, via the representatives (priests and bishops), to the global Church and to the neighbourhoods in which we live. In this more manageable community we should be working out how Salvation in Time through patient contemplation and action which stems from it. We must learn how to give one another space to be transformed and set free from our own perceptions of self, identities and sexualities (hetero, homo, bi, whatever).

Generous, Forgiving, Loving God, how far we fall from Your will and Your providence. How little we truly experience of Your Hope and rhythm of Time. Guide me, Your humble servant into Your presence to be shaped into the likeness of Your Son, who gave Himself up that I may know You and Your strength to save.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 12: lauds – celebration

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At Sunday Lauds…

Why should we praise Him?

We come now to the Divine Office of Lauds, named after the final three psalms (148, 149 and 150), ‘Laudate’ which means ‘praise’.

Praise the Lord!
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty firmament!
Praise him for his mighty deeds;
praise him according to his surpassing greatness!
Praise him with trumpet sound;
praise him with lute and harp!
Praise him with tambourine and dance;
praise him with strings and pipe!
Praise him with clanging cymbals;
praise him with loud clashing cymbals!
Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!

There are times, in the Christian life, when praise is hard; when God seems to be silent to your endless cries for help and mercy. There are those times when we can only place blame on God for a series of events; blame which, even if it’s not considered God’s direct action/intervention that’s caused pain and suffering, is seen rather as His lack of involvement that caused them. At these times we find ourselves asking,

Why should I? Is He even worthy of my praise, adoration and thanksgiving?

In isolated circumstances this response is normal and common but here is where the Benedictine pattern of saying 279 Psalms a week, repeating them again and again, comes in helpful. After months and years of repetition of all the different types of psalms a monk will know the balance of expressions and the revelation of both God and humanity will become clear.

When I was at college, I started, with a colleague, an annual all night vigil reading of a particular book of the Bible. In the last two years of the three years I was there, we used the Book of Psalms (you can read about my reflections at Monasticism and Asceticism (part I & III)). We had decided to do this when, in the first year, Tom Wright, who was, at the time, bishop of Durham, established a full public reading of the whole Bible in Durham Cathedral throughout Lent. A small group of us had signed up to read for two hours. After we had finished our slot we went and discussed how we found it. It was here that myself and TMBI (The Monastic Ball of Intensity) decided we’d like to read the whole of Isaiah through the night.

When one reads the whole of the Book of Psalms, one psalm after the other, you begin to see a broader, more rounded view of what’s going on in these verses. You find yourself feeling and saying things that you consider wrong or distasteful, you express vengeance on others which conflicts with an inner yearning for forgiveness but in the wider collection those feelings are balanced with expressions of who God is and how He works in our lives. Even though you proclaim death on all your enemies, the next moment you’re acknowledging that you deserve to be treated badly for your sin. Despite expressing the perceived absence of God you equally articulate the faithfulness of Him who surprises us with His presence.

Monks who go through this wide spectrum of experience and emotion will quickly learn and digest a more rounded view of reality. It is in the repetition and assimilating of these words that will balance out our instinctive emotional response to situations and remind ourselves of the bigger picture. The cycle of psalm readings here enables us to rise above the dense forest we so often get lost in and see the overview of the landscape to find our way out. With this view, however difficult it is to grasp and believe during dark and lonely times, the praise of God, properly understood and known, will fall from our lips. It is in the discipline of learning and memorising the words of Scripture, which reveal the Word of God, that we will defend ourselves from making Him in our image and allow Him to make us in His image.

Reflection

For most of this week I have been thinking about the trend in ‘emergent’ theological circles to interpret Scripture in ‘new’ ways. This was sparked by Kester Brewin’s re-reading of the parable of the Lost Son. I want to explore my difficulty with Brewin’s approach at a later date but, for now, I want to say something on the danger of reading into Scripture our own presuppositions, biases and agendas. This process is not altogether bad or wrong; indeed it is a natural part of reading any text. We must, however, surround ourselves with the voice of others and the Other who will correct our perspective and subjectivity. We must have an external authority which connects us with reality beyond our own perspective. This is a challenge to the basic understanding of Cartesian philosophy (the thinking of Rene Descartes) which states that the only thing you can know is that you exist because, with Cartesian skepticism, your senses are fallible and therefore you don’t know that anything outside of yourself is possibly false or imagined. I won’t go into that too much out of fear that I will lose many of you who have managed to stick with this so far!

What this type of philosophy has bred is distrust, cynicism and skepticism. Authority is placed firmly on the subject (you). This leads, in my mind, to the break down of community and connectedness. What St. Benedict has taught me as I read his Rule is that despite the fallibility of our senses obedience to an authority in God is a way of protecting ourselves. This protection, certainly in the mind of Peter Rollins et al. is a form of slavery. I would argue that obedience and humility are characteristics of Christ’s walk on earth and so we should follow. Yes, authorities need to be scrutinised and tested but ultimately so must our own perspective, agendas and biases.

My thinking, at the moment, is that the problem of authority arises when there is only one. When there is a sole authority then it becomes a dictator and blinds us all from right thinking. What the Church promotes, and St. Benedict supports, is multiple authorities, to be used to test one against another. In Anglicanism there is Richard Hooker’s three legged stool which suggests that, Scripture, Tradition and Reason are our three means of authority. Scripture reveals God. Tradition helps us to read Scripture and Reason helps us to test Tradition. Scripture balances Reason. (This is my understanding.)

The psalms and the repetition and learning of Scripture gives us a broader perspective and it must be taken in that context. We need to find ways in which we can protect ourselves from individualised, subjective readings of Scripture and reality. In this way I support Descartes philosophy but I would offer the optimistic suggestion that it is in community that we defend ourselves from thoughts and beliefs that lead to darkness, nihilism and despair. Rollins, Brewin and co. are radical theologians but I fear that they throw many babies out with bath water. From my personal experience of their work; the fruit of reading them is a spiritual darkness, isolation, cynicism and hopelessness. Their freedom, is short lived in practice. I know this is not their desired outcome but by reading their work without a degree in Hegelian philosophy, etc. I’m led into confusion and slavery to doubt. This is ironic as they are saying exactly the same thing about the Church which they speak against. It seems they are hoisted, like the rest, by their own language and argument.

I admit I am lost and broken and lacking the intellectual rigour to engage fully in the ‘ground breaking’ thought that they are wrestling with but I am going on a gut instinct and suggesting that I feel uncomfortable, not with what they are saying but where it leaves me. What character does it foster within me? How do I interact with others? Does it, in the end, lead me to worship and praise the God who created all things, sustains all things and leads me to life eternal (both before and after death)?

I fall again onto His grace and mercy and ask that God, whose love endures forever and is never absent from me, despite my experience of his loss, is indeed right beside me inviting me into relationship with Him; to know Him better.

Ever present God, You are life to me. You give me hope. You strengthen me with Your righteous right hand.

Come, Lord Jesus.