Tag Archives: discernment

Chapter 58: the admission of new brothers

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Admission to the religious life should not be made easy for newcomers.

What does it mean to be a ‘Christian’?

It seems to me we have reached, in this chapter, another pivotal moment in the Rule. The issue raised in this chapter comes close to my central thesis (that sounds too pretentious) to this whole ‘parish monasticism’ project: what does it mean to be a ‘Christian’?

One of the trickiest parts of my role as a minister of religion in an established church is baptisms. You can choose any Anglican church in this country and ask the minister about their baptism policy and I can guarantee that they will speak, at some point, about it being ‘complicated’ or ‘disappointing’. It is on this single issue that I begin to consider disestablishment as a useful proposal!

I don’t want to go into my baptismal theology (it’s more Baptist than Roman Catholic but I understand the role of infant baptism) but I have never seen baptism as a legitimate evangelistic opportunity. The reason it remains disappointing is that we continue to delude ourselves that the majority of people bringing their baby to be ‘christened’ want anything to do with God. We invest time in ‘preparing’ babies to be ‘christened’ because we cannot refuse but in the end a small number of these families take the promises made at the baptism service seriously or anywhere close to understanding what they are committing to. The service becomes a theological farce in my mind and it forces me to ask: what is actually going on at those secular celebrations of our profound mysteries of God’s grace?

So, yes, I’m pretty distressed about this and easily slip into emotional rhetoric on the subject but to try and outline a positive response to the dilemma I will return to the question: what does it mean to be a ‘Christian’?

I ask this question at preparation evenings we host for potential baptism families. The phrasing of the question is important; I ask,

If your child, when they are 7 or 8 years old, comes up to you and asks, “Mummy/Daddy, are we Christian?” What will you say? And they ask, as they are likely to do, “why?” What will your response be?

From my year and a half of asking this question I have yet to hear any answer other than,

Yes. You were christened.

My heart sinks when I go month after month desperately hoping that one day someone will articulate in some way their desire to know Jesus. After they’ve answered I talk, quite passionately, about being a Christian, about following Jesus, wanting to be transformed into His likeness, to acting, speaking, loving like Jesus, to inviting him to direct my life, my behaviours and my attitudes. I, like many ministers, comfort myself with the only thing left to us: the ‘planting seeds’ analogy.

It is not that I don’t understand the sowing analogy but I have major theological issues when we’re sowing seeds at the point of baptism, our welcoming of new Christians into the Kingdom of God. Infant baptism, for me, relies, in part, on the faith of the parents and/or godparents. Of course, baptism relies on the grace of God and God’s relationship with the child but there remains big questions over whether salvation can be removed from someone; can someone turn away from God’s grace? It is about free will and choice in the matter of relationship with God. If choice is taken away from baptism then we may as well go round pouring holy water over people and proclaiming faith over them!

No, it will not do, for me!

Here, in the Rule of St Benedict, we hear of the admission to the religious life not being made easy for newcomers. In my heart I believe that baptism into the Christian faith ideally should be akin to taking up monastic vows. This does not deny infant baptism for the commitment made in that instance still takes the vows of the parents and/or godparents.

But, Ned, that’s monasticism and not ordinary folks!

Why do we still differentiate so much in this respect? Why can we not take the model of monasticism for general faith? Why must there be different levels of holiness, one level reserved only for the ‘monks’? Why do we not expect all Christians to be holy?

I have been reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer recently and studying his views on ‘new monasticism’ as well as discipleship. I’ve recently been skimming through his ‘Letters and Papers From Prison’ in which he begins to outline a book he never had the chance to complete. In this book he begins to formulate a ‘religionless Christianity’. The argument, for me, is persuasive but, unfortunately, he never fleshed out the practical implications of his theories. If I ever return to academic study I would probably base my dissertation on Bonhoeffer’s use of monastic models in his view of Christian discipleship.

His use of monastic metaphors began well before his time in prison of course. It was in his book ‘The Cost of Discipleship’ that I first came across his explicit use of monasticism.

The expansion of Christianity and the increasing secularization of the church caused the awareness of costly grace to be gradually lost. The world was Christianized; grace became common property of a Christian world. It could be had cheaply. But the Roman church did keep a remnant of that original awareness… Here on the boundary of the church, was the place where the awareness that grace is costly and that grace includes discipleship was preserved. People left everything they had for the sake of Christ and tried to follow Jesus’ strict commandments through daily exercise. Monastic life thus became a living protest against the secularization of Christiantiy, against the cheapening of grace. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001) p.46-7)

This whole section from the chapter on ‘Costly Grace’ jumps from the page and into our time. He attacks the division of the church into ‘a highest and lowest achievement of Christian obedience’. The work of the monks was used to justify the lack of discipleship of the many in churches.

But the decisive mistake of monasticism was not that it followed the grace-laden path of strict discipleship… Rather, the mistake was that monasticism essentially distanced itself from what is Christian by permitting its way to become the extraordinary achievements of a few, thereby claiming a special meritoriousness for itself. (Ibid., p.47)

Prior to his publication of ‘The Cost of Discipleship’ Bonhoeffer wrote to his brother and proclaimed,

The restoration of the Church will surely come from a kind of new monasticism, which has in common with the old kind only the uncompromising nature of life according to the Sermon on the Mount, following Christ. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Testament to Freedom (San Francisco:HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p.424)

If you put these two writings together you can see Bonhoeffer beginning to formulate an ecclesiology which broke down the cloistered walls and brought the discipleship of the monastic life into the wider Church. Bonhoeffer goes on to use the biography of Luther, himself a monk, who ‘escaped the monastery’ to bring the discipleship to all the world.

By the time he reached prison, Bonhoeffer was grasping the implications of this ‘new form of monasticism’ which was based fully in the world. Part of Bonhoeffer’s argument for a ‘religionless Christianity’ centres on the un-biblical premise that Christianity is a cosmic escape plan from this world to heaven. In this schema Christianity is a religion interested only in metaphysics and individual salvation. His prison letters to his friend Eberhard Bethge, critiques our modern view of Christianity which desperately attempts to preserve itself against an increasingly forceful argument against the existence of God. In an baptismal homily written for Bethge’s son, Bonhoeffer writes,

Our church, which has been fighting in these years only for its self-preservation, as though that were an end in itself, is incapable of taking the word of reconciliation and redemption to mankind and the world. Our earlier words are therefore bound to lose their force and cease, and our being Christian today will be limited to two things: prayer and righteous action among men. All Christina thinking, speaking, and organizing must be born anew out of this prayer and action. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison (London: SCM Press, 2001) p.105)

If the reality of faith in Christ that God does not desire us to leave this world or be concerned with other worldly things but to follow Christ in committing to this world in all its suffering and challenges then what place does something as religious and metaphysical as prayer have in this faith?

I discovered later, and I’m still discovering right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. One must completely abandon any attempt to make something of oneself, whether it be a saint, or a converted sinner, or a churchman (a so-called priestly type!), a righteous man or an unrighteous one, a sick man or a healthy one. By this-worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life’s duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities. In doing so we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously, not our own sufferings, but those of God in the world–watching with Christ in Gethsemane. That, I think, is faith; that is metanoia; that is how one becomes human and a Christian (cf. Jer: 45!)(Ibid., p137)

I know I’m quoting alot of Bonhoeffer but I think it’s important to show his thorough study towards an ecclesiology which I find helpful in pursuing this disturbing experience of baptising, wholesale, babies to parents who show no indication of any desire of relationship with Jesus Christ.

It is not with the beyond that we are concerned, but with this world as created and preserved, subjected to laws, reconciled, and restored. What is above this world is, in the gospel, intended to exist for this world; I mean that, not in the anthropocentric sense of liberal, mystic pietistic, ethical theology, but in the biblical sense of the creation and of the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Barth was the first theologian to begin the criticism of religion, and that remains his really great merit; but he put in its place a positivist doctrine of revelation which says, in effect, “Like it or lump it”: virgin birth, Trinity, or anything else; each is an equally significant and necessary part of the whole, which must simply be swallowed as a whole or not at all. That isn’t biblical. There are degrees of knowledge and degrees of significance; that means that a secret discipline must be restored whereby the mysteries of the Christian faith are protected against profanation. (Ibid., p.369-70)

And so here it is, what I’ve been building upto!

Confession of faith is not to be confused with professing a religion. Such profession uses the confession as propaganda and ammunition against the Godless. The confession of faith belongs rather to the “Discipline of the Secret” in the Christian gathering of those who believe. Nowhere else is it tenable…The primary confession of the Christian before the world is the deed which interprets itself. If this deed is to have become a force, then the world will long to confess the Word. This is not the same as loudly shrieking out propaganda. This Word must be preserved as the most sacred possession of the community. This is a matter between God and the community, not between the community and the world. It is a word of recognition between friends, not a word to use against enemies. This attitude was first learned at baptism. The deed alone is our confession of faith before the world. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Testament to Freedom (San Francisco:HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p.91)

Baptism is not an opportunity to teach people the faith. Baptism must remain the result/ the response to an encounter with the resurrected Jesus in this world. Baptism is the secret admission of another into the community which professes by its prayer and action the reality of God amongst us, reconciling and restoring this world.

Reflection

I believe, now more than ever, the reformation of the Church will come through a new form of monasticism which breaks down the cloisters and is embedded in the lives of all Christians. By Christian I mean those who seek to know God in the world through the resurrection of Jesus Christ and his Holy Spirit. This means a Church which knows itself as disciples living contrary to the world around them but still remaining embedded in it as Jesus once did. Jesus remains enfleshed in the very reality of God and so there will never be any division between flesh and spirit.

Jesus also differentiated between the crowd and the disciples and was unashamed in the distinction. We are not disciples to sell Christ as a product. We are disciples to seek Jesus and to be more like him. The established church has lost this distinction in our baptismal theology and we continue to cheapen the power and transformation of grace by colluding with it.

Having said all of this, I fall into silence at the horror and pain of my feelings and pray earnestly for wisdom. I know that I am at the very first stages of understanding and may be heading down a treacherous path but still that dissatisfaction for where we are now.

Gracious Father, let me not be pushed down the wrong path but rather be led by your Spirit into your will and right thinking. May my mind be your servant as well as my heart and life. I pray, have mercy on us all and lead us into the path of righteousness for your Sons sake.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 57: artisans and craftsmen

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… if anyone becomes proud of his skill and the profit he brings the community, he should be taken from his craft and work at ordinary labor.

Who am I?

As June 2015 approaches and I come to the end of my official curacy, marked by a final assessment panel and an interview with my bishop, I am finding it hard not to think about the reports that will be gathered about me and my suitability to minister. On the bishops desk will be a minimum of 9 reports assessing my progress over the last three years, my competences, my character and every aspect of who I am. It is a pretty daunting thing if you think about it too much!

I have also been undertaking some intense ‘soul searching’ and reflection for the last few months guided by a counsellor. This has helped me to understand a little more as to what makes me behave and think like I do. I am acutely aware of the complexity by which God works through my own free will and psychological and genetic tendencies to reform me. When is something to be named as ‘God-given’ and when is it not?

I find it hard to accept that all talents and skills are to be ascribed to the spiritual realm. There are things that I’m good at which are there because I have worked very hard at learning and perfecting them. When I was an atheist I would get frustrated with religious people saying God gave them that ‘gift’ when it could be taught without involving God at all. I’m not saying that God can’t use those skills that one learns and does courses in but that we shouldn’t ascribe all skills to God for there are some skills which do not honour him nor would he want us to use. Take learning how to torture someone. It may seem facetious to say this but there are some people who are very good at taking other human beings to the edge of their life but holding them on the brink to force them to speak on the desired issue. This is a skill which not everyone can do. We wouldn’t dream of saying,

They’re really good at that it must be a god-given gift.

What is the distinction? Is it in the purpose of the activity? If someone learns a skill without knowing God and uses it to actively deny God is that still God-given? Is everything we are and do because of God? If this is true then why does he change us? In saying that all skills and talents are God-given, to me, denies the wonder and power of God’s redemption.

There are things that I have picked up through my experiences that are not healthy. I respond badly in certain situations which are not edifying and I am not proud of and I wouldn’t dream of turning round to the people I hurt and say,

This is the way God made me so you can’t complain.

It would be nice to say that because it takes all the pressure for me to change off and to blame God for making me ‘this way’. The truth is God didn’t make us ‘this way’. We were made by flesh and blood and we’ve been shaped by an imperfect world filled with imperfect people. Some parts of me are messed up and need reforming and that’s also true of you.

When St. Paul talks about spiritual gifts he is both vague and specific. The lists of gifts are not, in my mind, exhaustive, nor are we meant to be focussing on the list of gifts but rather the point of these passages (1 Corinthians 12, Romans 12 and, some would argue, Ephesians 4 but I have my questions on that!) is to highlight God the giver of grace through his Holy Spirit. God equips us for the tasks he calls us to. In my view and my experience, God never equips us for no reason. God calls first and equips after. This order makes more sense for God wants us to serve and behave dependent on him not on ourselves. Naming and blessing all our capabilities on behalf of God is not the same as truly experiencing the transformation of God via his Spirit.

That’s why, in The Rule of St. Benedict, I think it is clear that the ‘artisan’ is described as having a ‘skill’ and not a ‘gift’. But, you may protest, what about Bezalel!

The Lord spoke to Moses: “See, I have called by name Bezalel son of Uri son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah: and I have filled him with divine spirit, with ability, intelligence, and knowledge in every kind of craft, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver, and bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, in every kind of craft.” (Exodus 31:1-5)

My reading of Exodus 31 is that Bezalel is given ‘skill’ for a specific task. The call comes first the skill second. God helps Bezalel to learn the necessary skills with the other aspects of the gift, ‘wisdom, understanding and knowledge/intelligence’ (from the original Hebrew).

Now, I’m not saying that these skills are not important and can’t be used by God; quite the opposite! It is a testament and a witness to the redemption of God and how God works that he does use those things we learnt before we received his gift of grace. The distinction I am wanting to make is between that which God has given to us and how God uses us. The former is perfect for it comes from God and the latter is imperfect but redeemable if we choose to obey God’s will. Does this distinction need to be made? I would argue it does for we can easily slide into blessing everything we do as ‘God-given’ and controlled by God without considering the important aspect of our own fallenness and brokenness.

When it comes to questions of my identity I struggle to communicate such a concept because of the confusing assumptions of both myself and the hearer. When I sit before the panel assessing my vocation and competences and I talk with my bishop, I will struggle to communicate seemingly simple questions about discernment. This is not about what God is calling me to specifically but about how he has equipped me. What of my personality is God-given? What part of who I am is from God?

What it comes down to is I can only be sure of this: I am in Christ being renewed for his glory all the rest is debatable.

Reflection

The most significant challenge in this chapter of the Rule is the guidance,

…if anyone becomes proud of his skill and the profit he brings the community, he should be taken from his craft and work at ordinary labor.

As I face the panel I will be sensitive to my own pride and, as with most days of my life, pray that God will humble me, that he will remind me of my identity in him and to speak only of that.

We are so keen to establish our self esteem because we all are confused about who we are at the deepest level. We feel we should know ourselves but the truth is we don’t and that’s scary. Thomas Merton suggests,

The reason we hate one another and fear one another is that we secretly or openly hate and fear our own selves. And we hate ourselves because the depths of our being are a chaos of frustration and spiritual misery. Lonely and helpless, we cannot be at peace with others because we are not at peace with ourselves, and we cannot be at peace with ourselves because we are not at peace with God. (Thomas Merton, The Living Bread (London: Burns and Oates, 1976) p.9)

In his extended commentary on identity in ‘New Seeds of Contemplation’ he says,

In great saints you find that perfect humility and perfect integrity coincide. (Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions, 1972) p.99)

Humility, Merton asserts,

…consists in being precisely the person you actually are before God, and since no two people are alike, if you have the humility to be yourself you will not be like anyone else in the whole universe. (ibid.)

For Merton the practical things of everyday life should not be items of conflict,

The saints do not get excited about the things that people eat and drink, wear on their bodies, or hang on the walls of their houses. To make conformity or non conformity with others in these accidents a matter of life and death is to fill your interior life with confusion and noise. (ibid.) (my emphasis)

My personality and my preferences are ‘accidents’ not to be seen as static like some perfect idol but rather to be sacrificed before God to used and changed as he wills. My skills and competences, likewise.

Genes, parenting, and spiritual forces do condition who we are. But for believers whose spirits have been regenerated by the Holy Spirit these conditioning factors cannot determine who we are unless we choose to allow them to do so. (Gregory Boyd, God of the Possible: a biblical introduction to the open view of God (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2000) p.147)

In order to know who we are we must know who God is and discover who we are before him.

But under the steady bombardment of meaningless propaganda that is always directed against us, we surrender our privilege to think and hope and make decisions for ourselves… And we will never find God if we are not ourselves mature persons. To find God one must first be free.(Thomas Merton, The Living Bread (London: Burns and Oates, 1976) p.11)

Freedom comes when we follow Christ into his death and live in his resurrection and new creation. Death of our ego, death of our personality, death of everything we think defines us which is not Christ. In uniformly being in Christ we find we are uniquely ourselves.
Abba Father, you call us to life in you through participating in the death and new life of your son Jesus Christ. We humbly approach you and ask that you take every aspect of our life and use it for your glory. We ask you keep our eyes fixed on you and to continue the work of discipleship.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 56: the abbot’s table

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The abbot will eat with guests and travelers.

What does it mean to have ‘a calling’?

I have spoken at length on my understanding of ordained ministers within the life of the whole people of God. The tension, it seems to me, is most obvious around questions of holiness. By holiness I mean ‘set apart-edness’ of the clergy from the laity. Some would say that ontologically, the very substance of the ordained is different from the non-ordained, while others see no division accept in the function of the clergy. It comes down to an opinion on whether the clergy are changed into something particular by God’s Holy Spirit, distinctive from the other members of the Body of Christ. Where you stand on that idea will mark out how you respond to the particular calling on certain people that differentiates them from others.

So what does it mean to have ‘a calling’?

The Bible is full of God singling out a particular person for a specific task. Some of these tasks are on a temporary basis (e.g. Moses leading the people out of Egypt to the Promise Land, Ananias welcoming Saul/Paul in Damascus) others are permanent (e.g. Abraham being the father of many generations, Peter to ‘feed [my] sheep’). God calls his people, as a collective, to particular tasks (to be holy, faithful, loving, etc.) but there are specific tasks to specific people.

It is clear from the Bible that God calls all people to himself to know and love him and to become his disciple. Once someone has responded to that call they are a disciple, allowing God to transform them, by his Holy spirit, into the likeness of his Son, Jesus Christ. After that God will call them to additional tasks or lifestyles to grow into alongside and in conjunction with the life’s work of discipleship.

What task, then, is given to those called to be ordained?

This is a contentious issue and it depends on who you ask. Some would say it is into a leadership role within the church, others would emphasise a pastoral, serving role, others will create a particular cocktail of various functions and characteristics which define ‘ordained ministry’ but there is no concrete definition because God calls many people to it from different backgrounds, upbringings, experience, personality types, etc. Ordained ministry will look unique to each person who tries to live it out.

The added complication comes when you distinguish, in the Anglican Church, between ordained deacons, ordained priests and ordained bishops. The Anglican Church ordains people into three forms of ministry and they have different functions, roles and some would argue, characters. We confuse it even further by ordaining one person as a deacon, a priest and (in some cases) a bishop, all of which are unique a separate callings but are held together. I am, for instance, both a deacon and a priest simultaneously.

God, it seems, calls us both into tasks (temporary and sometime repeatable) and into way of life (permanent and evolving). Trying to discern one of these is difficult enough but then distinguishing between the two becomes even more difficult. It is for this reason I struggle with the simplistic view of ordained ministry as synonymous with ‘leadership’. ‘Leadership’ is a task, a role. At some point you will cease to be able to function as the leader or you may find that in a particular context you are called to follow and not to lead. If you are ordained as a ‘leader’ then it means you must always lead or, otherwise, your status as ‘ordained’ must be able to be revoked when you don’t ‘lead’.

Take a hypothetical scenerio: you are ordained and you lead a church congregation. You go to a conference and are put in a group where you are being led by someone else. In this instance you are not ‘leading’ therefore are you ‘ordained’ if the definition of your status is ‘leadership’?

Ordained ministry for me is about a specific ‘way of life’. What that looks like needs to be clarified in general across the Church of England. We have fallen into a complicated situation of defining ordained ministry as so many different things that it is not any one thing; it’s subjective. The problem with it being subjective it can no longer be institutionalised and therefore anyone can say they are ordained. We have so many different forms of ordained ministry that I’m not surprised when people are dismayed when they are not selected to be ordained.

Throughout the Rule, St. Benedict distinguishes certain roles within the life of the community but establishes those roles within the way of life of the call to be a monk. The call is to be a monk and within that God may have a particular job, relatively temporary, to perform (e.g. dean, cellarer, infirmarian, etc.). The call of the abbot, however, seems to be different. In modern day Benedictine monasteries the abbot is clearly one of the monks with particular responsibilities and tasks to perform (outlined in the Rule). Here, in this chapter, it paints a picture of the abbot living a separate life to the community, welcoming guests in his own dining room.

Earlier in the Rule, St. Benedict indicated that the table was a symbolic place for communal life, it is around the table, as well as in the oratory, that the community grew. In separating the abbot from them at the dining table puts a division between the abbot and the other monks. I am glad to say that this chapter never really worked out and, in modern day monasteries it is not held to.

Reflection

It is easy to fall into the trap of setting the ordained ministers away from the people. They are to be set apart for their particular roles, which the non-ordained may not, for unspoken reasons, participate in. It is all too easy to settle for the ‘this is tradition’ argument for why only the ordained may preside at Holy Communion or why only the ordained may baptize.

Having walked the discernment process through with several people now, and having gone through it myself, I have discovered the process is far from uniform. Some are ordained for one reason which, seen in another person, is the reason they are not ordained. The deep questions of calling have become muddy to the point at which it is harder to discern the difference between ordained and non ordained ministry.

For what it’s worth, from this ordained minister, I feel a re-examination of the parish church to fit a model of monastic life may lead to a greater understanding of ordained ministry from the ministry of the people of God. The abbot is the symbol of ordained ministry and the callings and tasks of other officers in the church are valued with equal honour.

Father, I abandon myself into your hands.
Do with me whatever you will.
Whatever you may do I thank you.
I am ready for all, I accept all.
Let only your will be done in me and all your creatures.
I wish no more than this, O Lord.
Into your hands I commend my soul.
I offer it to you with all the love of my heart.
For I love you Lord and so need to give myself,
surrender myself into your hands without
reserve and with boundless confidence
for you are my Father.
Amen
Charles de Foucauld (1858–1916)

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 54: the receipt of letters and presents.

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Without the abbot’s permission a monk may not receive from or give to anyone…

What is community?

For Ash Wednesday this year I was away on holiday with some of my dearest friends. We go away for February half term to the Lake District each year and this year it happened to coincide with the start of Lent.

I love Ash Wednesday. My theology and spirituality begins with the central premise that we are dust and not gods. God is God and He, by His grace gives us life and His Spirit. Each day of my discipleship I remind myself of that basic truth of what I am made of, not in some twisted attempt of self-flagellation but so that I can appreciate, in fuller measure, the overwhelming reality of the grace of God upon me.

Discipleship without starting from this humility is going to de-rail somewhere down the line.

Ash Wednesday is all about humility. Humility, says the writer of Proverbs, is the fear of the Lord (Proverbs 22:4) and the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Proverbs 1:7; 9:10). Humility is about knowing who you are. Charles Spurgeon once wrote,

True humility will lead you to think right about yourselves, to think the truth about yourselves. (Charles Spurgeon, The Soul-Winner (Tennessee: Lightning Source, 2001) p.15)

If our anthropology (our understanding of humanity) begins anywhere other than as creatures of the earth, coming from the same primordial ooze as everything else then we have begun in the wrong place. If we imagine, for even one moment, that we are born special, set apart from the rest of creation, that we are in some way born of the same substance as God then we are not being truthful.

But we must also remember that God has lifted us up from the dust and, in his gentle hands, formed us and shaped us into His beloveds.

Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. (James 4:10 NIV)

It starts in dust but it moves away from that into the hands of our Father who shapes us and moulds us into His people. We always remain dust, flesh, finite and fallible but, if we turn to God He will lift us up and redeem us.

That is why, for this Ash Wednesday, I created a liturgical space for my friends and I to reflect on the ash cross that we mark on our heads each year but also the cross of water some use at baptism. Ash Wednesday points forward to our redemption where we enter into the life of Christ who took on flesh that we may become one with God. Through the water of baptism we are renewed and we clothe ourselves in Christ, who did not reject flesh and dust but redeemed it by His life, death and resurrection.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Once we enter into the Body of Christ the symbol of flesh and God united we seal it with mark of oil for commissioning, being set apart for a task. We are called to be used by God’s Spirit who breathes through us and makes us living beings.

The service was called ‘Ash Water Oil’ and at each stage we discussed a word that has spoken to me through the Rule of St. Benedict which resonated with the theology behind each symbolic cross on our foreheads. For ash, we discussed ‘humility’, for the reasons expressed above. For water we discussed ‘obedience’; how we as disciples must turn to God and obey his hands as they shape us and redeem us. We follow in the footsteps of Christ as he obediently committed his body to death in order to be raised again. We reflected on these two quotes,

…faith exists only in obedience, is never without obedience. Faith is only faith in deeds of obedience. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001) p.64)

For the Christian to be perfectly free means to be perfectly obedient. True freedom is perfect service. (Stanley Hauerwas, A Community of Character: toward a constructive christian social ethic (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1981) p.131)

Finally, for oil we discussed ‘community’; how, through humility and obedience we are led, by God, into the community of believers and the community of the Trinity. The characteristics of Christina community should be marked by humility, rooted in flesh but filled with the Spirit, and obedience to the will of the Father through the example of Christ.

It was this final discussion on what we understood about community that sparked the most conversation. Community as a word is hard to pin down because it’s use is so varied and conflicting. We all think we know what it means and what it looks like and feels like but it shifts endlessly, it’s definition is always, it seems, just out of reach. We hear just an echo of its definitive state.

As I heard my friends struggle to find words for what this thing they are passionate about I was reminded of how we describe the Trinity. There’s a quote (which I can’t source) which says,

The Trinity is not a formula to be understood but a community to be experienced.

Why am I telling you all this?

When reflecting on seemingly cruel and strict chapter in the Rule of St. Benedict, it strikes me that the reason this and other chapters challenge is because it is cutting deep within that which makes us fallen beings. At the times of uncomfortableness, I can often find where I am finite and fallible. In this particular case with this strict removal of a monk from the ties to the outside world I am challenged by my need to be identified with material possessions and relationships with other people however well meaning I think they are. How many relationships must I lose before I realise I only need God? I think we judge too soon the answer to that question.

I can hear the protests and the reasons why we don’t need to sacrifice that much to know that we need God but I know for myself that I only want to say that because if I were to live it out I would find it too painful. The cost to this call is too much and so we don’t bother trying. To comfort ourselves we judge those who do that insane, unnecessarily severe but I look at the monks I know who have risked it and found great spiritual treasure from the discipline.

This of course doesn’t make it any easier to contemplate how much I am willing to cut myself off in order to discover the life of total dependence on God!

Reflection

I have been thinking a lot recently about where God is calling Sarah and I next. I keep returning to this call to monastic life and how it might look alongside other aspects of our calling. The call to humility, obedience and community fills me with delight even when it becomes slightly more uncomfortable than I’d like. Chapters like this one, where an abbot is given charge over letters and parcels, strangely make sense to me and in that sensation I am aware of how counter cultural that is.

I find myself thinking,

Maybe the Church should be living out a completely different culture to the one around it. Maybe we have completely lost sight of what true discipleship looks like.

I think of that quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer,

Is the price that we are paying today with the collapse of the organized churches anything else but an inevitable consequence of grace acquired too cheaply?… We poured out rivers of grace without end, but the call to rigorously follow Christ was seldom heard. What happened to the insights of the ancient church, which in the baptismal teaching watched so carefully over the boundary between the church and the world, over costly grace? (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, p. 53-54)

I fall into humble silence before my God and ask for Him to lift me up out of the miry dust and form me into the likeness of His Son, to redeem me into His life and to fill me with His Spirit.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 50: brothers who work at a distance from the oratory or are traveling

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Brothers who cannot come to the oratory at the appointed hours – because of their distance labor – should say the Divine Office where they are, kneeling in fear of God.

Who do I pray with?

Part of my personal reflections as I read the Rule of St. Benedict has been on my place within the Northumbria Community. My noviciate process has been stalled for two years now and recently I have been revisiting my future of the journey with them. I called a stop to the noviciate process due to my difficulties with the dispersed nature of the community. Despite having local groups that meet to encourage living out the Rule of Life and to have fellowship with, I have never found a group local enough. As a parish minister I feel a strong connection with my geographical location, serving and praying for the people in the area I live and work. I feel I would benefit from a community who walk the Rule of Life in that location asking the question, ‘How then shall we live… here?’

I still find the Rule of Life for the Northumbria Community enriching and challenging and I find myself returning to it and wrestling with its questions. I still say the Daily Office regularly and have settled into a sustained rhythm embedded over five years. I have made annual retreats to the Mother House over the years and contribute a relational tithe to them each month. I still feel a deep connection with the Northumbria Community and value their friendship and prayers but is the season changing now?

Part of my reflections on my relationship with the dispersed community has been the question of prayer and how it connects me into the community. Each morning, lunchtime and evening when I sit down to pray the Daily Office I feel a connection with the community, mainly those praying at the Mother House in Northumberland. I think of them often, sitting in Nether Springs, preparing meals, cleaning rooms for guests, leading workshops, pausing to say those shared words that I too am saying several miles south in my parish. It is the rhythm of prayer that connects me most; connects me into the established relationship with specific people and, in a smaller way to unknown members of the community across the world.

Over time, however, I find that I think of them less as my mind turns to my more immediate community in the parish. I now consider those who sit with me in situ regularly praying the Daily Office with me. My prayer ‘home’ is no longer up in Northumberland but here in York.

I have moved.

This is significant when considering what rhythm you pray to. I am feeling less and less of a relational connection with the people in Nether Springs (the Mother House of Northumbria Community) not because I love them any less or that I don’t desire to be with them more but because my rhythm of life has had to change. The Rule still stands as root for me to return to but the Daily Office has become less of that connection than it did. I don’t pray at the same time as my fellow journeyers up in Nether Springs due to the different work days that we have. I no longer pray for the same people as I focus my prayers on the local area with the prayers of the people around me.

Where does this leave me in my relationship with the Northumbria Community?

Many would say it doesn’t matter where you are, you engage with the community when and where you like; that’s what it means to be a dispersed community.

You’re expecting too much. It is too idealistic.

Maybe that’s true but I still have a deep call to be part of an intentional community which is rooted in the monastic tradition and part of that call, for me, is about location.

Another question I have is about the alternatives. I have yet to see God leading me to start an intentional community where I am at this point in time. I will soon be moving on from current role and it would be foolish and impractical to start anything now. I have, however, sensed there is a group of people orbiting the idea of this form of community discipleship in York and there is the potential bubbling up. What that looks like, how it would work and what Sarah and my role in that is has yet to be discerned. As my mind thinks over this possibility I think less of the Northumbria Community and more about the people who seem to share a call to intentional community in York.

Having prayed for over a year now around this subject all I can say is that I feel called to be a part of a group of disciples who live and work close to one another, who live out a life of prayer, study, dialogue and worship with one another, who have a passion for reconciliation, healing and creativity. I want to explore this with people who live close to me who can share my life as I share theirs and we share the life of Christ with the world.

Reflection

Parish life lends itself to a community at prayer in and for a specific location. Each morning and each evening I pray for my geographical area, I lift their needs and questions to God on their behalf and I am privileged to share that task with a small group of others who sit with me and support me. When I am unable to meet with them I still pray, wherever I am or they are and I do not feel alone… Of course I am not alone in prayer as thousands (if not millions) of others are praying with me at the same time, they’re just not in that room with me physically and that is where my reflections return.

Where is my physical community at prayer? Where is the community who not only say prayers with me but live out the prayers with me, who know me, know my heart, challenge me, pray for me and speak God’s word into my life?

Father, you are with me and by your Spirit you pray through me. You have called me to this place with a particular vocation and ministry. Keep me faithful to your timing and rhythm. Lead me in the way of Christ and gather round me the Body of Christ that I may play my part in it.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 47: sounding the Hours of the Divine Office

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For all things ought to be done at the designated hours.

When do things happen?

There is an organisational tool that I have found useful in creating spaces for creative conversations called ‘Open Space Technology’. I have described this many times over the last few years and have been exploring its uses in different practical contexts in my ministry. Within the world of Open Space there are some principles which guide people into more creative thinking; a narrative framework, if you will. One of those principles suggests:

Whenever it starts is the right time. The real impact of this principle is to serve important notice about the nature of creativity and spirit. Both are essential, and neither pays much attention to the clock. (Harrison Owen, Open Space Technology: a user’s guide (3rd edition),(San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2008) p.93-94)

In the creative context this principles is true. If you say you’re going to begin a rehearsal at 3pm that doesn’t mean that the work begins at 3pm, you can’t switch it on like that. Creativity has its own time.

In this way the Divine Office is not a creative exercise. It is more about obedience to God than about creating some profound experience. We cannot put God on the clock but we can put our clocks on God, by which, I mean, we can give up our time for God and turn up whether he chooses to speak to us or not. A monk goes to prayers because he has given up his life to serve God in prayer to build his life around his times in prayer not the other way round. This life choice is so alien to us because we want to be in control of our lives, we think we know what’s best for us and we don’t like being told what to do, we don’t like being beholden to someone else. Obedience challenges us.

It has been interesting to witness how the above principle of Open Space comes undone when working with a specific group of people, namely in a community. I wanted to use Open Space Technology with a group on a weekend away to encourage a creative conversation about what lay ahead for us as a group. Several people were late for the start and so, as the leader, I had to decide when to start the introduction and explanation to the format and principles of Open Space. There were some who were keen to start without half the group but it fell to me to decide whether I prioritised another principle of Open Space Technology (‘whoever comes is the right people’) over the principle of starting, i.e. do we allow latecomers to control when things happen or do we set a rhythm which they chose to enter into or not?

I have heard the same conundrum occurring in creative communities such as a theatre company who uses Open Space in their process. If you are expected to be present at a rehearsal and you’re being paid to be there how far do you stretch this particular principle? One of the company suggested an amendment for occasions like the one described. They explain the principles as being ‘true’ within the world of Open Space, i.e. the normal world does not run on the principles stated in Open Space Technology. Once the community/company is gathered then the principles begin, outside of that context the principles are not lived by. There is something here about entering into the spirit of a different world.

The reality is, for life with others there needs to be agreed upon rules and regulations; why? It is because there are some instincts of our human nature which need to be disciplined and controlled. Obedience is a foundation to life together because it shapes our character to be one which looks beyond our own wants and desires. Open Space, I find, works best when the participants are committed to the wellbeing of the others. This is not to say it Open Space can’t work without this but it takes more time to see the benefits of Open Space without them. The principles shape the character of people but it helps speed up the process if the character is modelled. If used by an unbridled individualistic spirit then Open Space can quickly become ineffectual. All the principles require, I think, I genuine humility and commitment to the common good to work most effectively.

As I said when I spoke of latecomers, time-keeping is about ensuring no one controls his/her brother/sister by turning up when they feel like it. Lateness creates power play and it is unhelpful when sharing life with others. One must always be looking to prioritise the desire of others above one’s own. The time of another should be more precious then mine and if I waste it then I am not treating that gift with due reverence.

Reflection

Within the life of a community there are some set times for certain activities, activities that everyone needs to be at. Setting the times for these activities can be impossible to ensure everyone can be there. As I continually wrestle with arranging gathering times for people I have come to realise that sometimes a time must be set and people choose to prioritise it or not. If they don’t then that tells you a lot about their commitment. This is not to say that some people have genuine reasons why they cannot be present but that there is often a sad realisation when people would rather be somewhere else and do not share your interest in the activity.

In the Benedictine community, prayer is an absolute must. If you do to turn up to it you are failing to see the centrality of prayer and are denying your vows of obedience to God. In any community there needs to be an articulation of the activities which are central and those which are more optional. To decide on which activities are central a community must ask itself; what is going to shape us into the kind of character we want to be (in Christian contexts this should read ‘the character God wants us to be’, to which the answer is always Jesus!)

In the busy-ness of life outside the cloister walls, community rhythms and times together are tricky to police. How many times must someone miss out on gathering together before it becomes difficult to be genuine community? What are non-negotiable activities and what are up to the free-will of the community members? How far does the abbot figure ‘force’ community members to participate for the training in obedience and character? Where is the role rebuking and challenging fit within a community?

Within parish churches, the Sunday services remain an open house event where anyone, whether they are an active member of the church community or not, can turn up and be present. I feel there needs to be another space which is for those who have expressed a desire to be more committed. This seems very clique-y and the establishing of a different class of membership but, through the experience of many monastic and new-monastic communities, the presence of overt and public statements of commitment is helpful in the transformation of a person. Baptism should be this action but, for many reasons, this is no longer the case in most Anglican churches. The point of these public commitments is the placing of one’s desires and wills under the authority of God, and therefore His Body, the Church. The community then is the place where you are discipled into the character of that community: Christ.

Loving Father, you call us to obedience within your family, the Church. Help us all to hand over our time and priorities to our brothers and sisters. May we learn through obedience to so shape our lives that we may be used by you as you see fit.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 42: no talk after Compline

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Monks should try to speak as little as possible.

Why silence?

There is an almost constant stream of chatter going through my mind most of the day; there are lists of things to do being calculated, reflections and processing events, creating ideas and writing exercises all being churned away inside my brain as I walk around, sit quietly and even when I pray. It sometimes feels like my brain is producing the Window’s hourglass or Apple’s spinning ball as I process the world around me.

When it comes to prayer, finding a silence in which to encounter and hear from God, is tricky (on some days nearer to impossible!) Before I begin the liturgy I try to quieten the inner chatter using a entering prayer like the Jesus prayer or repeating ‘Maranatha’ slowing my breathing down and settling into a slower rhythm. The chatter begins to slow (if I concentrate) and we begin the liturgy, familiar and comforting; it uses just enough brain power to focus me more and, at times, I fall into the silence.

Of course this doesn’t always happen and the chatter is so overwhelming that I’m lucky if I can even remember the liturgy. It is a common view that we live too frantic lives. I don’t want to add to the reams and reams of paper and the gigabytes of webspace dedicated to showing us all how busy we are and the need to slow down. I’ve said it to myself so often, I’ve heard people tell me, as if it were simple, I’ve preached it from the pulpit and I’ve written it in more than one article; why is it so difficult?

The inner chatter is comforting, I think; it is a form of company in moments of aloneness. We are naturally social animals and we crave companions and so when we are denied that fellowship we fill the emptiness with fictional voices or with our own creative thoughts. Even the dye-hard introverts amongst us fill the silence with dreams and thoughts because, the truth is, the silence is frightening. In the silence we must face our true self without any of correction or pretence; ironically the true self is the last thing we want to see.

If your life is centred on yourself, on your own desires and ambitions, then asserting those desires and ambitions is the way you try to be true to yourself. So self-assertion becomes the only way of self expression. If you simply assert your own desires, you may have the illusion of being true to yourself. But in fact all your efforts to make yourself more real and more yourself have the opposite effect: they create a more and more false self.This self assertion is false because it cuts you off from other people. (Abbot Christopher Jamison, ‘Finding Sanctuary: Monastic Steps for Everyday Life’ (London: Phoenix, 2007) p.85

The discipline set out in the Rule of St. Benedict should never be seen as an end in and of itself for that is a distortion of his intention. Discipline is used in order to steer the monk into a space where they can discover deep truths, hidden from others; it is this space of encounter with God which is the goal. Last week we discussed how cravings for satisfaction can drive us from real discoveries and here it is our inner chatter which is the distraction. Enforcing silence is to create an atmosphere where we are forced to face the silence, to fight through the dread and fear to discover the resurrecting new life beyond the deepest darkness and silence.

Ultimately the only way that I can be myself is to identified with Him in Whom is hidden the reason and fulfilment of my existence. Therefore there is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace and my happiness depend: to discover myself in discovering God. If I find Him I will find myself and if I find my true self I will find Him. (Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation’ (New York: New Directions, 1972) p.35-36)

The call to true silence is a dangerous journey and should not be rushed into. It is a treacherous path which requires, like all journeys, preparation, the right equipment and knowledge of the route. It doesn’t take much reading on contemplative prayer to know that this is a calling reserved for experienced and specific disciples. This doesn’t deny the rest of us an experience or a seeking after a form of silence but we tread that path with caution.
The rise of mindfulness classes, particularly in urban centres, concerns me. The basis of this, as far as my reading and experience shows, is based in focussing on self and creating a form of vacuum in which to exist. The danger with this, in spiritual terms, is that with no direction we can be seized by anything; demons, destructive thought, wayward emotions, call them what you like. In this way it is as Jesus describes it,

When a strong man, fully armed, guards his castle, his property is safe. But when one stronger than he attacks him and overpowers him, he takes away his armour in which he trusted and divides his plunder…
“When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it wanders through waterless regions looking for a resting place, but not finding any, it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’ When it comes, it finds it swept and put in order. Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and live there; and the last state of that person is worse than the first.” (Luke 11:21-26)

To return to Thomas Merton’s words, we all seem so desperate to find our true self but this only exists in the existence of God and so, if we want to gaze on our true self, we must gaze on God. The abyss that we discover if we silence the inner chatter should not remain empty for into the vacuum will flood all manner of thing and in the place where mindfulness takes you you’re defenceless against the slippery darkness that can easily overwhelm. God abhors a vacuum and we must, if we are to engage in this sort of prayer, to invite God to fill it; even if it is with ‘the cloud of unknowing’ (a classic on this subject).

This is where the reading of suitable material aids the community into an atmosphere of silence. It may seem contradictory to say, in one breath, be silent, and in the other listen to readings from ‘the Collations, the Lives of the Father or something else uplifting.’ For those of us who struggle with the silence and are not equipped to defend ourselves in the darkness of our own souls, filling the silence with directional material to guide us the treacherous path to the edge of pure silence to gaze on God is considerably helpful.

Reflection

True silence is hard to achieve for it is a form of death. In the centre of it we all discover the existence of God who grants, by knowing Him, knowing our true self, ‘in Whom is hidden the reason and fulfilment of my existence.’

Sometimes prayer, meditation and contemplation are “death” – a kind of descent into our own nothingness, a recognition of helplessness, frustration, infidelity, confusion, ignorance… Then as we determine to face the hard realities of our inner life, as we recognise once again that we need to pray hard and humbly for faith, he draws us out of darkness into light. (Thomas Merton, ‘Contemplative Prayer’ (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 2005) p.40)

The path to such discovery is a dangerous journey and should not be entered into lightly or without the right spiritual equipment for the task. There are unfriendly foes to battle with, snares and stumbling blocks which can cause you immense damage and pain.

In the context of parish life this form silence is not to be completely ignored rather we should be practising it in order that we can control our inner chatter like we need to control our inner cravings. Discipline in prayer and contemplation leads us to discovery of who we are in God and is therefore, the path to the new life we proclaim.

Creating guided space to begin the process of entering into the silence is essential for nay Christina community. This should be, in my mind, begun with concentrated reading of ‘uplifting’ material: Scripture or spiritual classics such as the Collations or the Life of the Fathers. Each disciple who commits to exploring the inner life must be accompanied by an experienced traveller and these should be made available to each in the form of small groups leaders.

In this way we can begin to form our life together around prayer and study as we resource ourselves for mission and worship.

God of the silence, I invite you into the poverty and emptiness of my life to fill it with your presence by your Holy spirit. Fill the dust of my existence like you did in the very beginning. May I, my false self, decrease as you, my true identity, increase. I step into the silence fearful for it is your awesome presence I seek to gaze upon; that same presence which Moses desired and you blessed him by walking by Him.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 40: drink apportionment

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”Everyone has his proper gift from God, one this, another thus” (1 Cor. 7:7)”

How do we welcome whilst teaching?

Last week we reflected on sharing and how, if we looked at our points of excess, be it food, money, whatever, then this seemingly impossible task of fairly distributing resources may become easier. This week, we read the same principle is to be taken with drink as it did with food and monks should consume in moderation. St. Benedict points out his awareness that in some religious orders, alcohol is forbidden but for his community (in Italy!) wine was a cultural drink; it’s like telling Russians they can’t drink vodka!

What we see here is not a blanket refusal for all things that are potentially harmful but a reliance on common sense. The Church, throughout history, has struggled with controlling its members’ destructive behaviours and have erred, at times, into overly strict control of all to help the few. We can think of the Puritans who saw some dangers in excessive frivolity, which on rare occasions led to sexual immorality; their response was to cut all frivolity and fun from everyone to protect against potential sexual immorality.

Discipline is difficult to police: one can be too heavy handed or not directive enough. Some people struggle with substance abuse, while others find certain situations difficult to control their anger. We can easily fall into the trap of thinking the way to help is to have a tight control on what is permitted and what is not. In order that some do not feel picked out the ‘ban’ becomes generalised and anti-productive for those who can remain disciplined in the specific situations. The church then becomes a place where there’s a lot of ‘you can’t’s and we spend more time policing the rules rather than worship and prayer.

In our current cultural climate, however, I see the opposite danger being played out. In response to a Victorian, over-bearing, clear cut, black/white mentality when it comes to moral righteousness; there is a lasez-faire approach to ethics and morality. In our desire to be ‘inclusive’ and ‘welcoming’ we reject any ‘barriers’ or demands put upon people who come through our door. We struggle to set behavioural rules out of fear we will be seen as judgemental or moralistic. We look at our fore-bearers and see a strictness and we want to set ourselves apart from them.

The problem with this approach is that we have missed out on a third way of managing temptation and behaviours. St. Benedict never shies away from enforcing expectations and demanding everything from the monks in his community but these ‘rules’ are focussed on principles and character rather than on practicalities. Leadership and spiritual guidance is less about dictating the pragmatic things we can and can’t do, policies and guidelines which must be followed to the letter and more about the general climate in which virtues are nourished.

If we take alcohol as an example. There are some who struggle to drink alcohol in moderation. The causes for this differ from one person to another and so it is hard to produce specific guidelines that all will find helpful all of the time. If, however, you see guidelines more about establishing a direction for transformation of character rather than prescribing detailed pragmatic actions then they can protect all people whilst enabling flexibility within it. Instead of saying, for example,

No one is to drink alcohol because it could, for some, lead to temptation to excessive drunkenness and violent behaviour.

We could write,

We want to encourage one another to be reliant on God and to be aware of His direction of us at each moment. Alcohol, when drunk excessively, hinders us from being obedient to God’s call. Therefore, alcohol must be drunk with care and consideration. If another is deemed to be drinking excessively, those in authority are to care for them by removing the temptation from them. It maybe appropriate, after the effects of the alcohol has worn off, for the leaders to discuss the reasons for their drunkenness to see if there is a way in which they can be encouraged to remain sober for the Lord.

The skill St. Benedict shows in his Rule is to have a clear endpoint in sight: the final judgement. Everyone in his community signs up to being transformed and changed, each day into the likeness of Christ. To be a part of the community is to commit to the hard work of discipleship which asks us to work out our salvation with fear and trembling. Drunkenness and excessive behaviour in any context is a distraction from prayer and character formation and therefore is enforced not by specifics but under the general encouragement to a life of discipleship.

In order to develop a distinctive culture of discipleship a community needs to be clear as to their priorities. These are not pragmatic step by step things; it is about the ultimate end goal. The Church has this set out in Jesus Christ. The vision for each congregation is the same: to seek God in our whole life, to intentionally invite the Holy Spirit to transform us from our old selves, into new creation, through obedience to prayer, study, dialogue and worship and to live as part of God’s distinctive Kingdom in the world. All pragmatic decisions and policies must encourage each disciple to participate in this work and that will require one thing for one member and another thing for the next but the direction is the same.

There are many who are taking down the Church’s specific demands placed on people’s behaviours to encourage them to become part of the Church or to at least see the Church as relevant and in line with the culture we live in but in doing so have thrown the metaphorical baby out with the bathwater. We have misunderstood the heart of the rules and guidelines. We have rejected the teaching wholesale and we have ignored Jesus who demands everything. Jesus asks those who would follow him to leave their livelihoods, families, their safety and security; in fact he asks us to die to ‘self’ in order to be his disciples. He does not ask this of everyone but for those who he calls to ministry. There is a difference between the expectation and attitude Jesus has to the crowd and the expectations he has on his disciples and he is clear on the distinction.

Are you a member of the crowd or a disciple?

A disciple is expected to work, to change, to learn to live obediently to the challenge of the life of Christ but the reward is great. The crowd only sees a glimpse of the Kingdom but remain enslaved to the world until they make their own commitment to discipleship.

As a theatre director I directed actors, not by telling them precisely where to stand and how to speak but rather by keeping my eyes fixed on the principles by which we agreed to work and the character the actor was trying to perform. There were some general things which were fixed and to move away from them, even slightly, would be a distraction. Within this framework the actors were more free to play and discover. It is a paradox that artists appreciate more than others; if you want to be more creative, put up more guidelines. A musician returns to the scales for this reason, the painter primes the canvas, the actor studies the character/play. Discipline and obedience are key to developing as an artist and the same is true of disciples.

Reflection

We can all agree that we need to create the right climate for discipleship to take place but there is a difference of approaches as to how to achieve it. For some it is about setting the right pragmatic actions. They work on each step and encourage people to achieve one after the other in an order. As each step of change is difficult to take people get caught up in the mechanics of those single step and our sights are reduced to a few manageable steps ahead. When difficultly strikes it is hard to discern what to do next and the choices as to which step to take in order to move forward becomes a complex and cloudy.

The alternative is to to set the momentum and the direction of the journey. You don’t need to know each step in advance but you know the trajectory. This means your head is up and some steps are made without even thinking about it. There is a momentum which drives people on. There will be times when you go off course but at different moments there will be a leader who raises everyone’s head to fix their eyes on the horizon not yet reached.

This frees the community of the Church from setting specific mundane requirements on its people and frees them to discern for themselves, within the framework of the community ethos, what they need to do in order to reach the goal. It is not about strict micromanagement nor is it the liberal, distanced observation of others; this is about dialogue and encouragement to journey the costly path of discipleship whose aim is to encounter God and to know His divine will for our lives.

Heavenly Father, whose will is perfect freedom. Your son challenged the Pharisees who lived at the law in action but were far from you in their heart. Your son also challenged those who were enslaved by their own desires who led them first in one direction and then in another. Your son, our way, our truth and our life, ha been set as the pioneer and perfecter of the faith and we commit our lives to following him, to being shaped by him.

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 39: food apportionment

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…care must be taken against excessive eating.

Why do we struggle so much to share?

There are statistics lining the internet about wealth distribution and figures which highlight the disparity between the wealthier parts of society and the poorer. Economic inequality has been a curse of humanity ever since man discovered the concept of possession.

Why do we struggle so much to share?

We have, built within us, a survival instinct which grows from experiences of lack. We experience hunger (for however long or short a time) and we remember that, at one point, we were unable, for whatever reason, to access basic sustenance. This sensation remains with us and we teach ourselves and our offspring that the world is ultimately a place of scarcity and we must fight for the resources available to us to stay alive.

Despite developed political systems and economic theories the thing the world is really scarce in is a system or idea which encourages a healthy and sustainable mutual sharing of resources. Our current politic, neoliberalism, is based on the premise that we, as citizens, must compete. Without market and competition our economy breaks. This political ideology forces us citizens to view ourselves as individual units who must interact with others through a ‘healthy’ exchange of goods and services within a competitive market place. This in turn forces politics to become synonymous with matters of money and wealth, which means that all conversations about how we should live together revolves around discussions about how to generate income and how to spend that income.

Politics began as the varying practices of rulers and kings in their control of their subjects. When governance became more complex at the dawning of empires, these practices began to be studied by those powerful people who were delegated power by the emperor and advised him/her on decisions relating to maintaining control of the kingdom. Aristotle’s exploration on the subject, outlines 6 main tasks for a state to concern itself: food supply, manufacture of tools, weapons and defence, creation of wealth/trade, ‘and of primary importance the supervision of religious matters, which is called the priesthood’ and finally, ‘the most necessary of all, judgement about what is beneficial and what is just in their relations with one another.’

In Aristotle’s outlining of ‘good’ politic, wealth was a minor issue. Indeed Aristotle’s understanding of economics, which we all immediately think is about finance, was actually more to do with the general ‘art of household management’ (the original root of the word oikonomikos: economics) of which money is mentioned as a mere tool to be used within the art of managing a household.

It is clear that household management [economics] is not the same as wealth acquisition, since the former uses resources, while the latter provides them (Aristotle, CDC Reeve (trans.), Politics (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1998)p. 13)

Aristotle suggests that a symptom of a sick or distorted politic or economy is one which overly focuses on wealth acquisition. He even goes as far as to say,

Hence usury is very justifiably detested, since it gets wealth from money itself, rather than from the very thing money was devised to facilitate. For money was introduced to facilitate exchange, but interest makes money itself grow bigger. (That is how it gets its name; for offspring resemble their parents, and interest is money that comes from money.) Hence of all the kinds of wealth acquisition this one is the most unnatural.(ibid., p.19)

Of course, Aristotle is just one person who has outlined a political theory and there are many others who disagree with some or all of his ideas. Aristotle’s book however, along with Plato’s ‘Republic’, is considered the first systematic framework for political thought and one which, in my opinion, is so thorough that all books after it can be considered as footnotes or developments.

With this in mind, I find it interesting that the father of political philosophy should diagnose an economy based on interest rates and discussions on wealth acquisition as ‘most unnatural’. It is also of interest to note the biblical view of economics and, particularly discussions on money. The Old Testament has strong things to say about ‘usury’,

If he has a son who is violent, a shedder of blood, who does any of these things (though his father does none of them), who eats upon the mountains, defiles his neighbour’s wife, oppresses the poor and needy, commits robbery, does not restore the pledge, lifts up his eyes to the idols, commits abomination, takes advance or accrued interest; shall he then live? He shall not. He has done all these abominable things; he shall surely die; his blood shall be upon himself. (Ezekiel 18:10-13) (my emphasis)

Jesus, repeatedly talks about money, not as something to ‘store up’, but something to be used to bless others. There is an interesting parable which seems to suggest that Jesus is stating that accruing interest is a godly thing,

As they were listening to this, he went on to tell a parable, because he was near Jerusalem, and because they supposed that the kingdom of God was to appear immediately. So he said, “A nobleman went to a distant country to get royal power for himself and then return. He summoned ten of his slaves, and gave them ten pounds, and said to them, ‘Do business with these until I come back.’ But the citizens of his country hated him and sent a delegation after him, saying, ‘We do not want this man to rule over us.’ When he returned, having received royal power, he ordered these slaves, to whom he had given the money, to be summoned so that he might find out what they had gained by trading. The first came forward and said, ‘Lord, your pound has made ten more pounds.’ He said to him, ‘Well done, good slave! Because you have been trustworthy in a very small thing, take charge of ten cities.’ Then the second came, saying, ‘Lord, your pound has made five pounds.’ He said to him, ‘And you, rule over five cities.’ Then the other came, saying, ‘Lord, here is your pound. I wrapped it up in a piece of cloth, for I was afraid of you, because you are a harsh man; you take what you did not deposit, and reap what you did not sow.’ He said to him, ‘I will judge you by your own words, you wicked slave! You knew, did you, that I was a harsh man, taking what I did not deposit and reaping what I did not sow? Why then did you not put my money into the bank? Then when I returned, I could have collected it with interest.’ He said to the bystanders, ‘Take the pound from him and give it to the one who has ten pounds.’ (And they said to him, ‘Lord, he has ten pounds!’) ‘I tell you, to all those who have, more will be given; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. But as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence.’” (Luke 19:11-27)

It is Walter Wink who famously challenges our traditional interpretation of this passage and, although I don’t follow his argument through to his conclusion exactly, I do agree with the questions he raises with the reading which is promoted in many Christian congregations. Wink’s argument begins by drawing out some verses which do not naturally ‘add up’. In the traditional interpretation of this passage the ‘nobleman’ is seen as the God-figure; if this is true then where is his ‘country’ of which the citizens ‘hated him’? Heaven or earth? If Heaven then the citizens are the angels and why are they described as hating God? If earth then where is the distant country of which also the citizens do not want him to rule over them?

This God-figure then becomes more sinister as we observe his interactions with the third slave: he is seen as a ‘harsh man, taking what I did not deposit and reaping what I did not sow’ then he gives to those that have more and those that have nothing (the poor) even more will be taken away. How do we square this God with the God of the poor? His response to the failure of this slave to produce interest on an investment is not to send him away to a place with gnashing teeth (the usual punishment in parables) but to have him brought back and slaughtered in his presence!

If we understand Jesus as being the proclaimer of ‘good news to the poor’ then how might we read this parable through the eyes of the poor? The nobleman becomes Caesar, or worldly rulers, who want to seize power, who want to reap where they have not sown, to make money without working (usury). The poor in the nobleman’s country rightfully hate him and those who he goes a conquers do not want to be oppressed likewise. When he comes back the third slave, instead of being a symbol of failure, becomes instead a protestor to the misuse of money, economics and politics. Jesus sides, in this interpretation as being on the side of the third slave and his punishment will be like that of the slave in the story; to be slaughtered in the presence of his accusers.

Jesus tells this cautionary tale on his way into Jerusalem where he will defy those who have the power of life and death over him, standing before Herod, Pilate and others who ‘reap what they do not sow’.(Chris Howson, A Just Church: 21st century Liberation Theology in Action (London: Continuum, 2011) p.39)

This interpretation then fits within a theology which denies the use of usury and unhealthy reliance on investment, which brings money back into a position of tool rather than possession. The Kingdom is described by Jesus’ words and actions as having a different economy and politic to that offered by the empires of this world. God’s economy is securely based on a view that the world is full of abundant gift not scarcity.

There is the promise throughout Scripture that God has created an economy in which there is enough, that God has not created a world of scarcity with too many people or too little stuff. As Gandhi said, “There’s enough for everyone’s need but not everyone’s greed.” We are to pray this day for our daily bread – nothing more and nothing less. (Shane Claiborne, Jonathan Wilson Hartgrove and Enuma Okoro, Common Prayer: a liturgy for Ordinary Radicals (Michigan: Zondervan, 2010) p.88)

Here, in the Rule of St. Benedict, we have the establishing of a practice which is based on a different economy to them one we are used to in the world. In this economy everyone is given enough; nothing more and nothing less. For the elderly, the young and the sick there is more given but the basic rule is that all will be fed. This economy relies on trust that God will provide our daily bread but also that we are to curb our desire for excess.

Reflection

The Kingdom of God has a distinct politic and economic system, one which challenges the world’s. It is easy to work within the Church (the embodiment of the Kingdom) using the theories and practices of the world when it comes to money and politics. We are called, however, to live God’s way in God’s economy but what a sign of God’s power and sovereignty if we lived in a world of abundance rather than scarcity.

Our reliance on interest, on savings and reserves is not only not ideal, it is actually contrary to the Kingdom of God. This view of money is one which is distorted by fear; fear of not having enough. Sure, there are congregations which struggle to make ends meet, with buildings requiring upkeep and heating to be maintained but the solution is not to seek more money but to ask what it is that God is giving you and to use that. What I mean is the focus of conversation is not looking at what’s missing but discerning what God has provided. This will require some challenging questions about the need for a large building, or on what the money is currently being spent on; maybe God wants you to redistribute the resources to other things and to stop us spending excessive amounts on particular projects.

The moment our conversations are solely about that which we don’t have the large the temptation to create it ‘unnaturally’. The problem of the austerity measures our current government (both the Coalition and parts of the Opposition) are promoting is not the practical outworkings but rather the basis altogether. It is far easier for us to change things to increase income than to ask the question of where are we being excessive? The disparity between the rich and the poor is solely rooted in the greed of our hearts and the system set up to encourage competition and private ownership.

We as the Church can preach the gospel by offering an alternative economy and politic and I for one want it to go beyond the Church; this, however, means we need to start living it in the Church.

Abundant God, you created the world teeming with life and called us to be stewards of its resources. You taught us the way to have enough for all and we’re truly sorry for the lack of care we have shown and our failure to fully grasp our shared responsibility over the world’s fruit. Grant us your wisdom to manage the many gifts you give us to build up the Body of Christ and to bring about your Kingdom in the world.

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 37: Old men and children

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Human nature tends to show sympathy to the aged and to children. The Rule also should make provision for them.

What is sympathy?

It would be too easy to skip past the opening of this chapter blindly accepting the statement that,

Human nature tends to show sympathy to the aged and to children.

without questioning whether we, as a society at the present moment, do show sympathy for aged and children. When pondering this question I find myself asking,

What is sympathy?

As I continue to pray for my own personal recovery from mild, stress related depression and after my public admission to suffering from this; I have received many expressions of concern and some sympathy from others. This has been nice, to some extent, but it has also not helped. The responses to my illness have fallen broadly into three categories: the first is what I might call ‘distanced concern’ and the second is ‘accepted reality’.

By ‘distanced concern’ I mean people who don’t know what it is like to feel and think like I do expressing concern that I am damaging myself and my behaviour is unknown and scary to them. This is not their fault; I don’t expect everyone to understand what I am going through and their concern is, I hope, truly genuine. It is nice to know that people want me to function and flourish; the fact they don’t know how to make that happen doesn’t belittle their desire to help. Their desire, however, stops at the point of action because they can’t help me. This is not their fault and I am not accusing them of some failure because there is none. Saying that one can get tired of expressions of concern when what you want is someone to help you. When you’re stuck down a hole there’s only so many times you can have people walking past wishing me luck in getting out,

Wow, that must be tough. I really wish I could help you up but I’m not sure how. Let me know how that works out.

The second category of responses, I want to name ‘accepted reality’. This is what I understand as sympathy; from the Greek syn (beside, to accompany) and pathos (feelings, passions). In both the Latin and the Greek, the words we use to get ‘sympathy’ have this sense of accompanying in another’s feelings. I have experienced this being manifested in worthy statements such as:

I know how that feels.

I have been through something similar to that and I know how the pressures impact me.

I too feel similar feelings to you. You’re not alone.

These are very well meaning and can help to know that you’re not alone in a situation. Again, however, there’s only so much sympathy I can take before I get tired of people sitting at the top of the hole I’m in telling me,

I’ve been down a hole before. It was a real struggle for me to get myself out. I can’t really help you except to sit and wait for the answer to become clear.

There is I feel a deeper part to sympathy which I’d like to separate from the mere accompanying aspect and I’d name that ‘empathy’. Empathy has a more intense dimension to it which is important. The difference in the root of this word is that instead of the syn (beside) it begins with en (in). There is a helpful video which distinguishes between ‘sympathy’ and ‘empathy’.

If sympathy is a ‘coming alongside someone in their emotions and feelings’, then empathy, for me is about entering into the pain of the other. To continue this analogy of the hole: if some walk past offering good will and others sit at the top of the hole to keep a suffering one company, then empathy is when someone jumps into the hole and sits in it with them. I feel guilty, however, when there is a sense of empathy shown towards me because I perceive it as them having to take the same feelings as I have in an attempt to help me but the solution to the problem is not found, we just end up sitting together bemoaning the fact we feel this with no way out.

The third response, which has been rare in my case and I continue to pray for, is what I want to call ‘transformative compassion’.

When I read the gospels and particularly the stories of when Jesus ‘had compassion’ (Mt 9:36, 14:14, 15:32, 20:34; Mk 1:41, 6:34, 8:2, 9:22-23; Lk 7:13) I’m always struck by the way in which this leads him to action, to change the situation whether that’s raising someone from the dead, feeding the hungry or healing the sick. Jesus never seems to just sympathise or empathise with suffering but his response is to act in eradicating it.

For me this ‘transformative compassion’ is something altogether different from our usual responses to other’s sufferings. The two previous responses have been different by the proximity we have with the pain; the first is at arms length, one might say objectifying and observing, the second has two stages, one close enough to hear the cries and to pay close attention but remaining separate from the pain, the next stage is to enter the life and to allow the pain to change your life. This third response continues that trajectory through the pain to the other side and it is, I would want to suggest, a purely God activity. To say it is a God activity does not, I think, excuse us from engaging in it; we are to be instruments through which God works this compassion.

I cannot pass this opportunity to remind us of the fabulous Greek word for compassion: splagchnizomai. Trying to say it gives a sense of the sense behind it. It literally means to be moved in your gut, like being punched firmly in the stomach. It means to wake you up to the severity of another’s experience and to have no other option but to stop it.

Being the kind of person I am, I cannot allow injustices to continue unchanged. My tendency is to isolate the root cause of problems and to work towards bettering the system which perpetuates them. This task is never as easy as people suggest (and most of the time it is to destroy the system altogether which is neither helpful nor Godly… I could say more but I won’t.) It is from this outlook and with the little energy I currently have that I become impatient with ‘pastoral sympathy/empathy’. It is not effective to just sit and wait for someone else to do something. I have little time to sit and tell someone that it’s ok to feel pain while someone repeatedly punches them in the face, without actually turning and stopping the other person from punching them in the face.

George Orwell, in his book ‘Down and Out in Paris and London’, articulates this well in a scene where he describes a group of ‘tramps’ being fed by a church in London with a worship service afterwards. The ‘tramps’ behave ‘in the most outrageous way’. At the end of the chapter Orwell reflects,

The scene had interested me. It was so different from the demeanour of tramps – from the abject worm-like gratitude with which they normally accept charity. The explanation, of course, was that we out-numbered the congregation and so were not afraid of them. A man receiving charity practically always hates his benefactor – it is a fixed characteristic of human nature. (George Orwell, ‘Down and Out in Paris and London’ (London: Penguin Books, 2001)p.197)

He goes on to outline the need for practical action to change the circumstances and the cultural responses to the poor (which I’m afraid continues to this day!)

I say all this because St. Benedict’s use of the word ‘sympathy’, I think, moves into ‘transformative compassion’ by changing the situation for those who struggle. He does it with the sick and the wayward monks and now he does it for the elderly and the children. This is a practical response to the various needs to those who struggle with certain aspects of his Rule which does not pander or release them from obedience but encourages them to participate and move towards holiness.

Reflection

Our society has sympathy for the elderly but it is, I would suggest, a passive sadness about their welfare. Individuals are left to care for our children, sick and elderly. Loneliness is a problem, but a problem which is insurmountable and so no one engages in systematic change. The church could be a radical force for change in the way we treat the vulnerable, the sick and the elderly. Here in York there is a move for the Church, via the One Voice York network, to provide twenty or more families to foster children along with the ‘Home For Good‘ initiative. One Voice York also is looking at establishing a practical network of visiting the isolated and elderly, providing them with company and practical help. These two initiatives, for me, go some way at transferring the sympathy of most to the ‘transformative compassion’ of Christ.

Many will say that parishes already fulfil this task of visiting the elderly but it often relies on the clergy and/or a few lay people. The inclusion of the elderly and the young is the task for the whole church. It is the whole church who should, as St. Benedict outlines, not think of this care as an extra part of the life of the Church but to be woven into our approach to community life in general. This might mean having small groups adopting children and/or elderly and discovering ways in which the tasks of the community can be adapted to suit them without changing the general Rule of everyone else.

This approach requires a change in ecclesiology and eschatology of the Church which currently sees everyone as part of the Church and that you go to worship to remind you of the peace that awaits us when we die. The Church has sanctified the status quo wholesale without a need to change it. The church sympathises with the struggle and waits for the pain to stop when we die or when Christ comes again (if they think he really will!) Instead, what I am proposing is that the church is made up of those who live out the reality of the Kingdom of God which is being born amongst us and that we are ‘co-labouring’ to establish. As disciples of Christ we actively seek and work out, with fear and trembling, our healing to be transformed more and more into the like-ness of Christ, image of God. Whilst we change we are placed within the Body of Christ as part of the community of others who are likewise being changed for encouragement and support. As we seek God’s will for us our eyes are lifted to others and we learn, through the Body of Christ and later outside to the world, to love others and to seek how they can live in the joy and hope of the Kingdom which God wants to establish here on earth. This will involve, therefore, the elderly and the children as well as everyone else. The Kingdom of God will manifest itself differently with different people and we encourage it however we find it.

Heavenly Father, I thank you that you are not satisfied with the way the world is and that you are moving to change it. I thank you for the gift of your transformative Spirit and I ask that you would come in power to change me, the world and all that populate it. May your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours, now and forever. Amen.

Come, Lord Jesus.