Tag Archives: faith

Chapter 7: humility

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…Without doubt, we should understand that climbing as showing us that we go up by humbling ourselves and down by praising ourselves.

What is humility?

Here we are. After 6 chapters introducing authority, obedience and living with others, St. Benedict dedicates a whole chapter to humility. Reading this chapter feels like it’s a summary of all that has been said before; he even repeats ideas,

The first step of humility is taken when a man obeys all of God’s commandments (c.f. The Prologue)

The third step of humility is attained when a man, from love of God, obediently submits to a superior in imitation of the Lord (c.f. Chapter 1)

The eighth step of humility is reached when a monk only does that which the common rule of the monastery or the example of his elders demands (c.f. Chapter 1 and Chapter 2)

The ninth step of humility is achieved when a monk, practicing silence, only speaks when asked a question… The tenth step of humility is reached when a man restrains himself from laughter and frivolity (c.f. Chapter 5)

I find myself reflecting on humility each week as I read the Rule of St. Benedict. I discover I am caught between a balking at an emotional/spiritual form of self mutilation and a deep desire to explore unchartered territory of anonymity. When I become aware of my mental gymnastics over this issue I am prompted to remind myself of what ‘humility’ is and is not.

Humility is rooted in the Latin humus, meaning “ground”. I find it helpful (rightly or wrongly) to rename it ‘grounded’. To be humble is not to become a doormat with no desire to establish an identity but rather a true and frank acknowledgement to your standing in the world. Once we begin to understand that to know who you truly are we can move away from our natural desire to reject St. Benedict’s twelve steps to humility. This is not to say that humility should not carry some fear and discomfort for us humans, naturally bent towards pride and selfish individualism of many forms. The process to humility is about stripping off false identities and claiming rightful ones, spiritual ones.

There are thoughts which spring to mind as I talk about natural desires and identity. The first is a thought picked up from Gregory Boyd in his book ‘God of the Possible’. He suggests,

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))

Boyd is saying that we are conditioned by biological and experiential factors to do and be certain things but none of these factors should control or oppress us. By the Holy Spirit (and that is the emphasis) we are set free from conditioning factors to be transformed, strengthened to follow the way of Christ. We should no longer claim, ‘I can’t do that. It’s not how I was made.’ God knows of what you are made and that is why He sent His Holy Spirit to help us.

The second thought comes from reading Leonardo and Clodivus Boff’s book ‘Introducing Liberation Theology’. There’s a quote which resonated with the reflections I’ve been having whilst reading this chapter.

The gospel is not aimed chiefly at “modern” men and women with their critical spirit, but first and foremost at “nonpersons,” those whose basic dignity and rights are denied them. (Leonardo Boff and Clodivus Boff, Introducing Liberation Theology (Tunbridge Wells: Burns & Oates, 1987) p.8)

I do not want to belittle or ignore the main aim of the Boffs’ statement, that of the extreme poor in our world, but I was drawn to the term “nonpersons”. This phrase reminds me of John Zizioulas’ work on Christian anthropology particularly an excellent article entitled ‘Human Capacity and Human Incapacity: A Theological Exploration of Personhood’. Zizioulas articulates a distinction between humans and persons; one is a biological phenomenon the other is a metaphysical reality achieved through communion with God. It is through this divine communion, in baptism, Eucharist and the Body of Christ (the Church) that one transforms from ‘human’ to ‘person’.

I want to suggest that the gospel is for “modern” men and women precisely because they too are “nonpersons”, the difference is that they deny personhood themselves rather than having them denied by others. The path St. Benedict sets out in this chapter on humility is a process for all people to develop from human to person through the task of community.

Ultimately, St. Benedict’s process to spiritual growth and deeper communion with God is set out at the beginning of the Rule as he describes the ideal monks, the Cenobites, ‘who live in a monastery waging their war under a rule and an abbot’. To live a life of discipleship in the Kingdom of God one must be obedient to a community and an abbot. Humility will arrive after one has journeyed the difficult and treacherous road through community.

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Humbling Ourselves

I would love to explore each rung of St. Benedict’s ladder to humility but I am both daunted by such a task and ill-equipped. I do want to spend a few moments, however, reflecting on St. Benedict’s analogy.

I was struck by St. Benedict’s use of direction in his depiction of the ladder to humility. He suggests we climb to the ‘highest peak of humility’ which is a journey away from the ground and up to heaven. The model I would tend to consider is the depiction of Christ’s humility in Philippians 2:3-11

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus, who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death – even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Christ humbled himself and came down. In the gospels Christ describes humility as putting yourself lower and, in so doing, paradoxically being raised through exaltation by God. Humility, in my mind has always been a descent into that ‘humus’/grounding.

This leads me to another reflection I’ve had about humility; The analogy depicts hard work and intentionality about achieving humility. There are set, pragmatic steps to take to arrive at this state of humility. This unsettles me. I am not suggesting that St. Benedict is wrong or misguided in his teaching but I am rather challenged in my pre-conceived attitude to humility.

My question is, ‘can I humble myself?’ What I mean by this is, is the process of humbling an act we do or an act that is done to us by others and God? The passage from Philippians clearly says Jesus ‘humbled himself’ but is that possible because He is the Son of God or is it an invitation that we should od the same. The difference between humbling yourself and being humbled may seem pedantic and semantic but I think, in relation to St. Benedict’s call to climb the ladder to humility, it is important to ensure where our focus is. Are we to look at humbling ourselves or rather look at living in community and, in doing this discovering we are humbled?

I would want to suggest that humility is achieved by living out the life of obedience in a community, committing to the actions of considering others before yourself, seeking the common good for those to whom you have committed higher than selfish ambition and vain conceit; in short, to love, truly and in imitation of Christ. If you do this then you will find yourself humbled. These steps to humility by St. Benedict are like the Beatitudes in Matthew’s gospel,

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

We read these wrong if we feel we need to mourn, to be meek, to be peacemakers, etc. in order to be blessed. Our focus is wrong if we think that the point of these statements is to show us how to be blessed, as if they are some self-help programme. These are statements of truth not guidance as to how to live your life. These are more about virtues than about practical steps to self improvement. It’s the paradox and challenge of the life of faith in Jesus Christ; you achieve the goal (salvation, arrival into heaven, enlightenment) by not focussing on achieving that goal.
Community is the same,

Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (London: SCM Press, 1954) p15-16)

Organic community is not a product, not an end result. Organic community – belonging – is a process, a conversation… It is not the product of community that we are looking for. It is the process of belonging that we long for. (Joseph R. Myers, Organic Community: Creating a Place Where People Naturally Connect (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2007) p125)

Reflection

Looking at community within the parish context becomes complicated when you’re aim and focus is building community, as if it were a product or goal to achieve. Community is the process of loving others; the focus is on doing the process rather than achieving the product. It’s like art: an artist may have an idea of what the piece may look like or express but whilst working on it they must cast that dream to one side and engage fully in the task of creating. Then the art is more beautiful and surprising, even to the artist themselves.

What St. Benedict is placing before us is a series of activities to do, not to achieve humility in ourselves but to encourage the growth of community around us and in that rich soil the seed of humility is grown, hidden even from our own eyes until, at the end, when the Reaper comes for the harvest we will find, with Him, that we have born good fruit.

Transformer of humans, Come by Your Holy Spirit and guide me in the way of love and obedience. That, in doing this I will be rightfully humbled even to death and thus be exalted by my Heavenly Father, for His glory and His Kingdom.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 6: silence

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…we always condemn and ban all small talk and jokes.

Why so serious?

It is this chapter which challenges me more personally than any that have gone before. I suspected that ‘obedience’ would be the chapter which cut the deepest but it is here, in the demand of this chapter, that I’m left… silenced. I have been on silent retreat on a number of occasions and always find them very refreshing and beneficial; it’s not the call to silence in this chapter which challenges me rather it’s the call to cut ‘small talk’ and ‘jokes’.

I prefer to be in small groups rather than a room full of people mixing and mingling. I find that shallow introductory conversation when getting to know new people very difficult and scary. I feed off deep and meaningful conversations about the important issues in people’s lives (don’t invite me round for networking events!) Don’t get me wrong, I can do the networking but it drains me of energy very quickly and soon I will be putting my coat on and leaving. When I’m tired, however, and I’m in the company of close friends I settle into ‘banter’, joking comments which stem from a deep knowledge of the people I am around. It is easy to do and, at times, it strengthens and communicates the comfort I feel in the other’s presence but… it also has the potential to damage and hurt.

I have friend who I see less than I like to. We went to college together and, I hope, there’s a respect between us. We both love each other dearly and that is communicated through the jokes we make at the other’s expense. I use the jokes to highlight my knowledge of him and what brings us together. I have made it clear that I enjoy the to and fro of the jibes and we laugh together. The laughter brings us closer, I feel. I was at an event where I had the opportunity to see him again. We hadn’t been together for a long time and it was lovely to see him flourishing. Soon we were sat laughing and joking with each other, ‘ribbing’ each other for the foolish parts of our personalities, etc. It was like we’d never separated. Again, the laughter brought us together but… then the laughter stopped and we parted.

It wasn’t a division as such. There had been no big falling out or argument but when I hadn’t had an opportunity to say goodbye I was left with a feeling of disappointment that I hadn’t chosen my words more carefully and spent the time reconnecting with him on a deeper level. I had decided to spend my time with small talk that, although it didn’t upset him, had not built him up and encouraged him. I’d like to have been able to do that more than share the laughter which didn’t.

Comedy is very weighted towards the negative representation of certain people in order to evoke laughter at them. Comedy has become, or maybe it always was, very aggressive and destructive of others or self. There is an inherency in the bringing out the failings or foolishness of people in comedy, we cannot escape that, but there’s a lot of playing with power that goes into it. When does it go too far? Where is the line? It’s often hard to tell and when you find out you have often just passed it!

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The Laughing Church

This may say more about my personal challenge from this chapter but I don’t want to see a community where laughter is not allowed. I suspect this is not what St. Benedict has in mind and the words ‘small talk’ and ‘jokes’ may hold different meanings. There are times, for example, even for more introverted people like myself, for small talk; those conversations which settle people into relationship. It would be tiring to only have deeply intense discussions. Likewise, there are those times when one must laugh at one’s self and allow others to share in the knowledge of our true nature, ‘fools’. There are too many people who are forced to take themselves too seriously, either by our culture or by themselves.

A Benedictine of Saint Cecillia’s Abbey, Ryde, suggests,

St Benedict never intended to banish joy from the monastery. One reason St Benedict may have prohibited a certain kind of laughter is given in the conference on prayer by John Cassian: “For whatever the soul was thinking about before the time of prayer inevitably occurs to us when we pray as a result of the operation of the memory. Hence we must prepare ourselves before the time of prayer to be the prayerful persons we wish to be. For the mind in prayer is shaped by the state that it was previously in, and when we sink into prayer, the image of the same deeds, words, and thoughts plays itself out before our eyes just as they did before, making us angry or sad or causing us to relive foolish laughter” (Conferences 9:3). Both see that a certain frivolity, the kind of laughter that seeks to make a joke of everything, can undermine the spirit of prayer. Nevertheless laughter and good humour have an important place in our community life. And the ability to laugh at oneself is more akin to humility than opposed to it. (A Benedictine of Saint Cecilia’s Abbey, Ryde, ‘Enlarging the Heart: Daily readings from the Rule of Saint Benedict’, 10th February 2014, http://www.ancilla-domini.org/Benedict.html)

Another friend of mine rightly pointed out that laughter brings people together and the church has a tendency to take itself too seriously and it puts people off. There’s this impression that Christian communities are dower places of sackcloth and ashes; where is the heavenly feast that Jesus inaugurated in the Kingdom of God? I understand the need for wisdom and discernment about the nature and timing of laughter but I think it cannot be cut altogether.

One final story to end on:

At my retreat before I was ordained a priest I went and had some time with a monk. I went to him to seek guidance on some struggles and issues I was having at the time. The emotions and reflections weighed heavy on my mind and heart and I was weeping often and not sleeping well.

I sat down next to him and he gave this big smile to me. He asked me what I wanted to talk about and I began the rant!

I recalled all the painful things people had said to me, the frustrations and disappointments. I told him how unjustly I had been treated and how I was not being listened to or understood. Throughout my long and impassioned speech he continued to smile. Occassionally he nodded and laughed; to be honest it wasn’t the reaction I had expected. Did he not realise the importance and difficulty of the situation? The more I tried to convey how pained I was the more he smiled and laughed. Soon I was laughing with him.

How foolish I was! How seriously I had taken myself! Was it all that bad?

When I had finished he asked me one question,

Have you thought about all that you’ve missed out on whilst worrying about this?

At that moment I realised again what it meant to be free; to live the new life given to us by God’s grace, the life in the light of forgiveness and release from bondages. I looked on this simple monk and he had true joy and there I sat racked with guilt and anger.

Reflection

I wonder what it might look like to have a spiritual discipline of foolishness. What might the practical work of deconstructing the pompous idols of our own pride through deliberate acts of foolishness? I like my friend’s suggestion that there needs to be more laughter in Christian communities, laughter which disarms and neutralises the those dark arts of anger, resentment and pride. What would a community that takes joy seriously, celebrating freedom to see ourselves as fallible fools and its ok?

Christ of the party, Bring to me and the community of which I am a part a right joy and laughter. Challenge our use of words to encourage one another and bring us to that humble acceptance of our own foolishness. Disarm the anger, disappointments, frustrations and help us to silently smile at the futility of worry and striving.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Fleeing to No-Man’s Land

bf_logo_brownI have had the privilege of being welcomed into a community over the last year which has had an ongoing and deeply transformative impact on me and my vocation as an ordained priest. The community are mainly in their twenties and would, at a cursory glance, be classified as ‘arty’ intellectual types, although this is not entirely true; not that they are not either of those things but that which unites this group isn’t those two general categories. It is only in the last month or so that I have begun to grasp the ‘charism’, the ‘je ne sais qua’, of Burning Fences.

I have come to realise that this gathering on a Wednesday night is a place between. What I mean by that is, it is a space which exists in no-man’s land between many human cultures, traditions, institutions and philosophies. Many are ‘de-churched’, meaning they have opted out of the church system. This does not automatically mean they have no faith in Jesus, but they are definite in their questions of institutional religion. Others are ‘de-society-ed’, meaning they have opted out of social institutions including politics, economic models and/or cultural pressures.

Whilst some are exiting church due to lack of a tangible truth to the statements trotted off each week, others are dismissive of social powers for the same reason. Capitalism: failed. Democracy: broken. Hierarchy: oppressive. Education system: stifling. In our community these things, at best, do nothing for us, at worst are an abuse. Church has hurt many of us and society has not done much better. We are all ‘de-something’, ‘post-something else’ and ‘anti-the other’ but…

We find joy.

a3257979419_10Before I stumbled through the doors one cold December night, this community had been meeting, singing and telling stories for a year or more. They had produced a CD of songs which they had developed entitled ‘Of Anthem and Ashes’. The images that were resonating with them then and remain reverberating through our times together are phoenix like resurrections; songs sung in the rubble, new plants breaking through concrete. These images have always resonated with me and it’s why I know I am a ‘fence burner’.

What’s unique, in my experience, with Burning Fences is we are not just angry rebels without a cause. I felt, at first, our position was always, first and foremost, against but now I appreciate that our primary position is for; it’s for joy, hope, faith, creative and transformative actions of love. We are for justice. We are for freedom. We are for foolishness. We stand up for singing and fairytales and we stand proclaiming the truth that we find in them; a truth higher than the ones incarcerated in creedal dogmas and policies from committees.

What unites us is not the borders we’ve crossed to get to Burning Fences, its the central tenants which have drawn us closer. It is not that we are all ‘de-churched’ or ‘post-capitalism’ or ‘anti-establishment’ it’s that we are dreamers singing songs from ages past with the fresh melody of our eternal youth.

We struggle to define ourselves, not because we cannot tell you what we do or why we do it (although we may amble around some wording) it’s because we don’t believe in definitions. Definitions limit and control; they create an object that is to be studied and understood. We, I think, want to rather express. Expressions manifest and present; they allow the subject to be encountered, however fleetingly. Groups and communities always get to a point where they organize. It’s at this point where a small death occurs. That which was new, organic, growing, evolving becomes marked and measured. It’s a necessary part of all groups some would say, but, I wonder, is it as necessary as we think?

Organization contains mechanistic tendencies, structures which are intentionally built to ensure all parties are protected and held. Organization does an important job of mediating between subjectivity of members and individuals can devolve responsibilities to the processes and structures put in place. The alternative, I want to tentatively suggest, is the organism.

Organisms are natural and, in some respects, self-evolving and responsive to environment. Organisms exist in constant fragility and transient ways and yet can endure much. The church has traditionally been associated with organic images; a body, a family, a vine, a tree. Ferdinand Tönnies articulates a possible contrast between these two models which he describes as ‘organic communities’ and ‘associative societies’,

…one can distinguish between ideal types of organic and associative social structures. A person is born into an organic social structure, or grows into it; by contrast, a person freely joins an associative social structure. The former is a ‘living organism’ whose parts depend on the whole organism and are determined by it; the latter is ‘a mechanical aggregate and artifact’ composed of individual parts. The former is thus enduring, the latter transient. In short, organic social structures are communities of being, while associative social structures are alliances for a specific purpose. (Miroslav Volf, ‘After Our Likeness: The Church as the Image of the Trinity’ (Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1998) p. 179)

concrete2The times when Church is most frustrating, for me, is in the ‘necessary organization’. What  irks me is the lack of convincing Biblical precedent. The Temple system failed and yet here we are in the 21st century rebuilding it. I get it, organic is messy and uncontrollable, unpredictable but it’s how the world functions. We human beings are devastating when we control and tinker with the organic creation. We’ve tried to organize the world and what we discover is we’re trapped in boxes which do not fit nor encourage us to flourish in the ways in which we should.

Take growth as one example:

Organizations grow but only when there is intentional distribution of resources in that area. Resources are limited and so constant supervision and analysis is required in order to maintain a healthy growth and balance with the repercussions growth brings (increase need for supporting the numbers and the work.) Growth is a task which is done. The temptation is also to continue to grow; to grow beyond the organisation’s means. When is the right time to stop growing? There is no reason to stop.

Organisms grow naturally; plants, animals, people. We do not need constant monitoring and an understanding of how it works we just do it. Yes, in order to remain alive we need protection from certain things but that’s not changing growth that just ensure an environment within which to grow. The purpose and identity of organisms can change and adapt, it’s inherent within the classification. It will be what it will be. Growth is not an intentional task its a natural process. Once it has reached a maturity the growth will inevitably slow down and settle into an identity (which still has freedom to develop) but even mature organisms continue to grow cells and reproduce.

Death is indeed part of the natural cycle of things but, like organisms there’s a continuity of energy from one thing to another and there is reproduction to ensure species continues. With the Christian tradition and narrative death is not to be feared. Despite us all passing through death, at the end we will all rise and live in resurrection glory (but that’s for another time.)plant-growing-through-crack-in-concrete

Burning Fences is an organism. It is one that understands itself as an evolving entity but not vacuuous of identity. Growth is occurring in different ways without us spending resources and monitoring to ensure that it continues because growth is a by-product of being. We have flirted over the last few months with basic organization but I am increasingly convinced that what this ‘Fresh Expression’ is doing, along with many others, is challenging the organizational model of church and society and telling the story of the church as organic. We are not the concrete instituition holding Man together and discovering we’re suffocating him instead. We are the plant life that persists in growing between the rubble of those falling idols.

As an ordained priest I do not want to be a manager. I do not want to be a systems analyst. I want to be one part of a network, a rhizome, of organic life that is fertile, naturally beautiful and expressing newness in the face of decay. I want to welcome the tired, weary, breathless, thirsty people as they run from the crumbling world into no-man’s land and host the party of endurance beyond death and decay. To feed them with nourishing bread and breathe new life into them. I want to tell the story of the world through the lens of a Creator who redeems and endures; coming and leading a people into the wilderness to find miraculous bread falling from the sky.

Burn those fences. Break down the walls and flock to the well where the water never dries up and to a table where the bread falls from heaven.

Chapter 4: the instruments of good works

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…If we always remember and use them, and give them up only on Judgement Day, the Lord shall reward us as he promised…

How do we live this?

How we could meditate and reflect on each of the 72 ‘instruments’ independently and bear much fruit from doing so. Many more experienced and suitable scholars and practitioners have divided this lists of thoughts up into manageable chunks and I commend them to you (search for them online). I, however, want to continue my more general reflections on reading the chapters of the Rule of St. Benedict and this week I will try and voice my overview of this chapter. I must remind you, the reader, and myself of my task in doing these reflections: I am wanting to discern how monasticism may factor into parish ministry and what that approach to the life of faith, lived out by monks/nuns, has to say to those outside traditional monastic communities.

With that in mind my first thought about this chapter is how overwhelming each short ‘command’ is. Few of them don’t leave a mark of some description on my conscience and all of them challenge the state of my inner life. To hold them all and to ‘always remember and use them’ is an added challenge and I could easily stop reading the Rule of St. Benedict until that is obeyed but I continue to feel as I pray through this reading that there is an understanding of grace that is rarely mentioned but is necessary if this life is to be lived.

We have explored before the basic premise that we begin the spiritual life, humbled by God, our ultimate Master and Judge. That we throw ourselves on His mercy and from there be thankful for the work He does in our lives. Through this lens, reading these 72 commandments is like the Sermon on the Mount in that you are forced to ask,

How can we be saved?

Surely all of these are impossible to sustain and achieve.

The reply to that feeling is it does indeed seem impossible to achieve all of this on our own, for your own benefit. This sense of futility is another invitation to enter into humility and stand in the strength of God’s mercy and grace alone. Let’s be honest we all need a daily dose of grounding in the true state of our humanness.

I was reminded this week of our tendency to err on the side of one of two extremes when it comes to self-analysis: either we see ourselves as complete failures, deserving of nothing but the destruction that comes from our own mistakes and characters, or we deserve all privileges and ‘blessings’ for we are wonderfully and fearfully made. Neither of these are quite correct on their own. We should be mindful of both our inherent ability to self-destruct and to hurt others in the process whilst holding onto the truth of the gospel; God is merciful and just and His steadfast love endures forever.

It may be my Roman Catholic upbringing but I have preference to speak of my sin, my dirty junk that I carry in my life. I seek out punishment for the blatant and harmful mistakes I make. I call others to balance the current popular notion that human beings are essentially good and we are the solutions to our own problems. Despite my counter-cultural proclamations against humanist philosophy I cling to grace.

Bono was quoted as saying,

You see, at the center of all religions is the idea of Karma. You know, what you put out comes back to you: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, or in physics—in physical laws—every action is met by an equal or an opposite one. It’s clear to me that Karma is at the very heart of the universe. I’m absolutely sure of it. And yet, along comes this idea called Grace to upend all that “as you reap, so you will sow” stuff. Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions, which in my case is very good news indeed, because I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff…I’d be in big trouble if Karma was going to finally be my judge. I’d be in deep s—. It doesn’t excuse my mistakes, but I’m holding out for Grace. I’m holding out that Jesus took my sins onto the Cross, because I know who I am, and I hope I don’t have to depend on my own religiosity. (Bono, excerpt from, ‘Bono: in conversation with Michka Assayas’, Christianity Today, January 28th 2014, http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2005/augustweb-only/bono-0805.html?paging=off)

If I am to read, and even begin to attempt to live out, all 72 instruments of good works then I’m going to have to know grace and to trust it.

For all of my readers who err on the side of seeing themselves as ‘junk’: judgement is not from you but God, the merciful Judge, and if you call on the name of Jesus, that Judge will look on Him instead of you. You will be judged with Christ.

For all my readers who err on the humanist side seeing themselves as their own solution and to continue to try and live the perfect life all by yourself: you will be judged in that way. If you live by karma you will be allowed to be judged by karma… I wish you well.

If a community is going to embrace the message of the gospel of Christ then each member should follow Christ’s example and obey His commands fully trusting and knowing that discipleship is done in the strength of grace and mercy and nothing else. Without a message of grace then all ‘good work’ is rendered moot.
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The Seclusion of the Monastery

Aside from reflecting on the necessity of grace whilst living the life of faith and growing in the spiritual discipline of conquering our own thoughts; I was struck by the final sentence of the chapter,

But the workshop in which we must diligently perform all these things is the seclusion of the monastery and our stability in the community.

For those of us not based within a secluded monastery, living and breathing a monastic life, this final sentence leads us to feel even more stranded. It is true that in order to diligently perform all these things you need to give yourself time and space. Everday life does not lend itself to spiritual discipline. Why not? From my experience there’s no ‘let up’.

When we begin any new hobby or craft or practice, we need the space and time to allow the inevitable failures to happen. One does not pick up a violin and become Niccolo Paganini, it takes work and failures to develop sustainable skill and aptitude. In the busyness of everyday and in our culture so afraid of failure we are called to be in control of our development. There’s no forgiveness for not attaining maturity overnight; one is either mature or not, there seems to be no process encouraged.

A true community is like a loving family; each member is allowed to grow and develop over time. Forgiveness should offered continually and inter-generational leading is encouraged. Those that have been through the early stages of frustration and mistakes must encourage and support the novices. True community, based on the humility being encouraged through the Rule of St. Benedict and the grace at the heart of Christian faith, is a place where failures are not only expected but encouraged for,

Failure… leads to quite artistic things, because if you are not afraid of failure you can try, you can experiment, you can search for new ways, whereas when you are afraid of failure you wouldn’t do it, you would do it the way you did it yesterday… (Lev Dodin in conversation with Robin Thornber at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, 23rd April 1994, Michael Stronin (tr.), cited in Maria Delgado and Paul Heritage (eds.), ‘In Contact With The Gods?: Directors Talk Theatre’ (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996) p74)

Where is such space in parish ministry? How do we encourage this approach to life together? My BA dissertation* explored this idea in great detail (now is not the time to outline my proposal. If you would like to know more contact me and let’s chat!)

Reflection

As we grow into a deeper spiritual life we must hold onto one thing, grace, and seek out another, community. With these two things we can begin to live out the Kingdom of God to which we have all been called.

I suspect most of us shy away from a deep acceptance of grace and resist a deep experience of community. I wonder what a focus on these two concepts and experiences would do to a parish church? I wonder what transformation or revelations would occur if a parish church scrapped all other activity and committed to a life governed by these two principles?

Most Merciful Judge, thank You for Your grace. Thank You that I am judged not on the law of karma but the law of grace. lead me to experience community which holds me, as I am to grow into Your likeness and to only cease in that search on Judgement Day, when You will look on Christ and pardon me.

Come, Lord Jesus.

*The title was, ‘The Divine Collective: how modern ensemble theatre practice can help establish creative Christian communities.’

Lovers of Chains

They sat with their arms above their heads, the blood having drained from them weeks ago. Conversation had dried and their eyes hadn’t felt tears for months. Every crack of light was now a disruption of the darkness and no longer the desired contact with a world beyond the four walls. Every noise was an imposition on the silence, a silence filled with their comforting lists of hopes lost.

They had resisted arrest; they had fought against captivity but there was a moment when they weakened but they no longer remember the details. The barriers of self-preservation had crumbled once one brick of integrity had shifted. How quickly they had settled into routine! How easily they had embraced the chains that bound them!
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Whilst the shackles found the grooves in their skin to make their home, the two men impotently discussed release, escape and freedom. This conversation became as mundane as asking about the weather and the reality of it became a dream, became a fantasy, became rhetoric empty of power. They no longer imagined life outside although they spoke of nothing else.

Days became weeks became months became years and the chains began to keep their wrists warm. The gloom was their natural habitat and their eyes were native to the dimness and still the poetic proclamation of liberty echoed in the emptiness of the cold, hard walls of their imprisonment. Cycles of conversation and expressions settled into a rhythm of seasons and they no longer measured Time outside of these recitals of exchanges of dreams.

sep8Where he came from, neither of them knew. How he got past their captors; who could say? He was either a fraud, one of the warders provoking them for his own amusement; or their captors had fled leaving the cell unguarded; or it was a miracle. None of this mattered much as he walked over to them and spoke.

“Do you want to be free?”

His voice was soft. It was not a weak whisper but a powerful authoritative bass that seemed to hold all other voices in tune. It had no need to clammer to be heard or strain to carry any strength.

The simple answer became lodged in the prisoners’ throats, desperate to be released into reality. It remained, snared in its place as the silence enveloped and overpowered them. As muteness overwhelmed them, doubt took its grip and finally fear pinned them: What if it was a trick? How was this even possible? Where had he come from? Where would he take them?

“Do you want to be free?”

“How did you get here?” they stuttered.

“You have nothing to fear. I have been sent to set you free.”

By whom? For what? Why now and not before? Before they accepted any offer of liberty they wanted to know that where they were being led to would be better than this oppression. This stranger needed to earn their trust.

The two captives waited for him to make a move but he just stood there. There was no apparent rush, no captors running in to stop their release… where were their guards? Had they been overthrown? Had they fled? Or were they waiting outside? Their thoughts and questions were beholden on the condition of their captors but through all of the uncertainty bombarding their minds the stranger remained steadfast before them. His face showed no impatience. He waited for an answer. After a time he sat down.

“They can no longer keep you,” he said, as if reading their thoughts. “Do you want to be free?”

“Yes.”

The word hit the walls of their enclosure and echoed on the stone cavity despite being released weakly from the cages of their mouths.

They had spoken of freedom so often but now it seemed so real. The visitor stood and walked towards the first prisoner and pulled at his shackles. To their amazement they slipped easily off their wrists. The newly released man gasped, in part in relief but more so at the ease at which his chains fell. How had that not been possible before? He had tried, in the early days, almost every night to squeeze his hands through but they were tight around his skin. In the hands of their liberator, however, they crumbled like sand.

Once he had been freed the other came just as easily and in no time they both were standing in the darkened room, free of their chains.

“That was the easy part,” the man said with a smile, “Shall we?” he gestured to the door.

Through the door a soft light spilt into the room. It was not bright and the prisoners thought it must be a corridor with little to no natural light or it was night time. Then they were struck by the realisation that they no longer had any concept of Time; they were so programmed by their oppressors, that life, independent from them and the rhythm and restrictions governed by them, was alien to the prisoners; out of tune. How were they to function now? They no longer remembered reality as free-men.

“Follow me.”

The enigmatic emancipator began to leave. As he passed the threshold he turned and held out his hand. His wrists were scarred, marked with the shape of fetters long since freed from.

“You can hold onto me. You must be weak on your legs.”

It was true, they were out of practice and they stumbled towards the door and the gentle man who stood in its frame.
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File0042594Through the doors they saw their guards sleeping soundly. It seemed so strange – no – illogical that they could slumber during a rescue mission in the jail they were meant to watch. The whole incident was feeling so mysterious and implausible; a dream with no reason. Yet this man kept leading them down the corridor towards a bright light; the final exit to freedom.

As they finally reached the escape to liberation they turned back for one final sight of their home for the last years. They felt a fondness towards that place; the predictability, the certainty and steadiness of their life in the embrace of the enclosure. The two men had built a life together.

In the walk between their cave and the infinite unknowns that lay outside they began to consider the life they were about to embark on; a life they had talked and dreamt of for so long but never contemplated possible. It felt so scary and paralyzing now. Whilst salvation was a fantasy within their heads, it was guarded, protected, boxed in and manageable; in the stark reality it was vast, un-wielding and oh so debilitating.

As they looked back the guards began to wake and stand. They started to walk towards their prisoners. They seemed afraid, wary and disarmed. Their eyes were fixed on the third man who stood between oppressor and oppressed.

“Go. You don’t need to fear. Go,” he said but they could not.

They remained fixed to the spot staring at their masters as they came closer.

What happened next remains the most shocking and mysterious part of the whole story. One which I will never be able to explain.

My friend, companion and fellow slave turned and smiled. He said nothing but it was like he was pleading with me to stay. I stared back, unsure and helpless. His head dropped and he walked back to our cell. The guards embraced him and sent him on his way into the comforting darkness at the end of the corridor.

I called to him but he never heard me or he chose not to respond. My liberator faced me, looked me in the eye and said,

“I have come to set you free. Choose freedom.”

With that he followed after my friend. The jailers allowed him to pass but did not touch him. They showed no power over him and were clearly uncomfortable in his presence. Before the door was closed, the stranger turned and said words that echo in my head even today,

“Some people love their chains too much to be free. Others choose the chains of freedom and overpower all oppression.”

Chapter 2: the qualities of the abbot

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In a monastery he is Christ’s representative…

What is leadership?

As I have sat with, prayed through and read the Rule of St. Benedict over the last three weeks the question of the role and significance of an abbot in the life of a person who desires to take on a form of monastic life has been pressing. I suspect the abbot has to be important if, before anymore details over the running and understanding of the monastic life is explored, this pragmatic, as well as spiritual, description of the character and role of the abbot is introduced.

In recent decades the role of a leader has become increasingly emphasized within churches. We now have a Global Leadership Conference and Holy Trinity Brompton host a large leadership conference in the Albert Hall. This striving towards better leaders makes me feel uncomfortable. The strategy and the techniques are taught with such ease that it seems that anyone can be a leader if they know the right stuff and do the right thing. I can agree that anyone can be a leader but it is a calling given by God and seen by others.

St. Benedict seems to be keen to emphasize the responsibility of leadership within the monastic life as being heavily spiritual; there are management concerns, yes, but this ‘leader’ ‘will be accountable on Judgement Day for his teaching and the obedience of his charges’, ‘he should know that the greater his trust, the greater the responsibility’ and he ‘must not undervalue or overlook the salvation of his charges. Thus he must always remember his task is the guidance of souls (for which he will be held accountable) and he must put aside the worldly, transitory and petty things.’

During my time at Cranmer Hall, Durham, we had a module of Christian Leadership. At the time I sat this module it was being taught by two godly men with one style or model of leadership: the chief executive. This model is useful within large organized congregations where there are lots of ‘departments’ working efficiently to share resources, both material and human, towards growth.

I have, in the past, been very critical of this approach to leadership and, although I have mellowed and grown to appreciate the strengths of such approach I remain questioning of the common expressions of it. My critique comes in how theology and spirituality is shaped by a model and the leadership of Jesus becomes too strategic and ‘task’ orientated. I have  seen and experienced great harm done to people with this managerial approach to oversight and wisdom, grace and forgiveness have been squeezed too much in favour of the growth of the church and its reputation.*

The last session in our Christian Leadership module was led by Rev. David Day, a retired minister and ex-principal of St John’s College, Durham. His session was entitled ‘The Spirituality of Leadership’. I remember at the end of this session many of us held the double sided piece of A4 paper he produced as notes and knew that this was what the whole course should have been based on. I don’t want to explore Day’s session on leadership but one thing has sustained me as I took on an ordained leadership role within God’s church. It is a prayer of St Aelred of Rievaulx, an abbot.

To you, my Jesus, I confess, therefore;
to you, my Saviour and my hope,
to you, my comfort and my God, I humbly own
that I am not as contrite and as fearful as I ought to be
for my past sins;
nor do I feel enough concern about my present ones.
And you, sweet Lord,
have set a man like this over your family,
over the sheep of your pasture.
Me, who take all too little trouble with myself,
you bid to be concerned on their behalf;
and me,
who never pray enough about my own sins,
you would have pray for them.
I, who have taught myself so little too,
have also to teach them.
Wretch that I am, what have I done?
What have I undertaken?
What was I thinking of?
Or rather, sweetest Lord, what were you thinking of regarding this poor wretch?
(St Aelred of Rievaulx, ‘Treatises and Pastoral Prayer’ (Michigan: Cistercian Publications, 1995) p.107-108)

In this prayer I hear so much of Thomas Merton’s spirituality and it resonates with me. There’s a shared outlook on humanity, sin and this overwhelming sense of the grace of God. Humility is inescapable in this prayer and the prayers of other monastic writers.

As I read St. Benedict’s ‘qualities’ of an abbot I was struck by the expectations placed upon one person. The wisdom required for this role is impossible, unless you were the second incarnation of Christ Himself. It is easy to read this, in our current culture, fascinated with ‘the leader’, as a job description; things necessary to be called ‘a leader’. As an assistant curate in the church of England I’m aware of my assessment criteria to successfully prove to be ordained and affirmed as a minister in Christ’s church.

I try to not look at the Church Times’ classified sections as churches advertise for ‘rector’, ‘vicar’ and ‘minister’s but they may as well call a spade a spade and advertise for ‘Jesus Himself’. The tasks and qualities required as an ideal candidate is far beyond any fallen human being. I was glad to find an article written by ‘The Quotidian Cleric’ entitled, ‘The Perfect Job Advert’. What I like about it is it’s acceptance of the state of the human person behind the role of leader.

I think it’s important to note the title for chapter 64, ‘Election of the abbot’. It begins,

Always remember, concerning the election of an abbot, that he should be chosen by the entire community…

we will explore that in 62 weeks!

A leader is, before God, just another monk, dearly loved but desiring no individuality. As St. Benedict says,

…let everyone stay in his own place for “whether bond or free we are all one in Christ” (Rom. 2:11) and are equal in the service of the Lord; with god there is no respecter of individuals.

An abbot should not desire the role of authority for himself and should, along with the other monks, take responsibility for his own faithfulness and obedience under God. From this place, the call to discipline and rebuke is tempered with grace and humility. Love comes easier if you start from that place.

There is a conflict, however, within me. As the church in England heads into a missional mode of being, there is requirement for strategy and communication of discerned priorities. This focuses those, given authority by others, to make task orientated decisions. The pressure and skills needed to do this are greater and more stressful than we imagine; particularly if you add to this the expectation to also be aware of the emotional responses of many people as they hear and respond to the decision.

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The Role of the Monks

If an abbot is called forth by the community then they support him. Even if they don’t see him as ‘Christ’s representative’ they are called to encourage him to be transformed into His likeness. No abbot is perfect because no human is. The qualities outlined in this chapter of St. Benedict’s Rule are not to be achieved prior to appointment but are rather the pattern that God will now shape them into. The abbot, after appointment, now looks to allowing God to shape him in this particular way.

I  am increasingly convinced we should begin discussing the relationship between role and gifting in that order. It is commonly spoken of in these terms: one receives spiritual gifts, given by grace to all, and with those you discover the call to a particular ministry within God’s church.

Firstly, the ministry is in the Kingdom of God and not solely activities run within church structures.

Secondly, I see, through Scripture, men and women being called first and then equipped second; Abraham and Sarah, Moses, Samuel, David, Mary, Peter, Matthew… Humility is easier to receive if you have nothing else given. All calls from God should begin with humble confused as to how we could possibly do what He is asking of us. If we, when we hear his call into a particular ministry/task say “Oh, that makes sense because you’ve given me these gifts to do it.” Then there’s no humility; you are trusting the gift before the giver.

And thirdly, the concern I have with the pattern of discussion around spiritual gifts and ministry is that if the gifts are given before any task is commanded by God, then you limit what God will ask of you. This is particularly instilled when we are given only one spiritual gift. If we begin by asking “Lord, what is it you want me to do, poor as I am?” then God can call you anywhere to do anything. It is right and Scriptural to respond, “How am I to do that, poor as I am?” And He will respond, “I will give to you what you need; the words, the strength, the insight. Follow my spirit and all things will be made available.” Once the task is done we turn and ask again, “What now?” He can still, if He is able to give more gifts for new tasks, command you to go somewhere else, where you have no experience and no skills. “That’s foolishness!” you say, “Why doesn’t He keep me on my career ladder building on from where I ended?” Because, it’s not about you can do but what He can do. He wants to show His glory and power because there is no other way you could achieve things He wants to achieve through you. Take Moses. There is no way he could have accomplished the Exodus. The glory went to God.

The role of the other monks, therefore, is to receive the abbot’s ministry as from God. To pray that God will use the abbot for the spiritual growth of His Kingdom. The abbot will not always do so as obediently as the monks or God would have liked but they forgive and encourage to see God use the broken vessel for His glory and His Kingdom.

Reflection

An Abbot is God’s representative within the monastery. The question, ‘Who is my abbot?’ will remain until there is a community from which the abbot is called.

I’m currently exploring a shared life within a small ‘missional community’ called ‘Burning Fences‘. These people are dear friends all exploring faith and are at different places on their journey with God. We come together not around a set of creedal statements but rather a shared desire to know and experience God (whatever that might mean). In a way, a spiritual community is growing amongst us and I remain expectant that God will reveal something profound in our midst. I wait for the revelation of what God is doing in, with and through us.

Until then, I continue to look to God as Abba and pray,

Abba, Father, what am I to do today that will encourage Your Kingdom to grow? Send me out, in the power of Your Spirit and not my own, to live and work for Your praise and Your glory.

Come Lord Jesus

*Please note that I am aware the reality of leadership in these contexts and this model is not as sinister as I depict and I am being overly general. I say this to paint an extreme in order to clarify the distinction between what I see in one model and what might be offered in another.

50 Questions

I have gone through many seasons of journal writing over the years. Each season brings a different approach and style. Some have been noting down words of encouragement or discernment, whilst other times I have, in Anne Frank style, written to my own ‘Kitty’. I have used this site at times for public journalling and have vulnerably wrestled with the morality of such practice. As I tried out different forms of writing I have been on that constant search for a voice which I feel comfortable with. The voice which I can use to interact with the world around me.

Just before New Year’s Eve, I came across an article by Sonia Simon entitled ‘The New Year’s Writing Resolution You Can Actually Keep’. (I am grateful to Maggi Dawn for reposting it.) So for a week I have been writing for 20 minutes a day. I have not concerned myself with grammar, spelling, editting, format, style; I have just put pen to paper and written what came into my head in the way that appears to quickest.

I decided to use an old book I started journalling in at the end of June 2013 whilst on retreat. Reading back over the last week and the three or four entries prior to that I have been encouraged to hear a definite style appearing:

Short sentences. Adjective triplets and, of course, rhetorical or open ended questions.

I have even begun, after just a week, seen some themes surfacing from the pages and I am excited to see what other material reveals itself over the coming weeks and months.

I do, however, want to share the questions which seem to be buzzing round my head. They are not necessarily connected, although I’m sure connections can easily be made. They are not necessarily ‘unanswered’ in that I may already know the answers but I still need to ask them. This is essentially what I’m realising about the ‘style’ I seem to write in…

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Questions invite. Questions inspire. Questions invoke within us imagination and, instead of just filling the world with more noise and another voice clambering to be heard, questions accentuate silence, however brief.

But there is a balance to be made.

A friend brought to my attention the following YouTube clip.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCNIBV87wV4#t=171

The man is right, of course. I have noted, many times this vocal tick our culture has developed. He is right to ask whether ‘we are the most aggressively inarticulate generation to come along since, you know, a long time ago.’? Are we so wary of standing up and declaring something and pinning our metaphorical colours to the mast that we fall too swiftly into the open question format? (He asks ironically!)

With that in balance I offer some questions, asked from a place of vague certainty and with no agenda but to invite, inspire and invoke from within you, my dear reader, your own imagination and to accentuate some the silence from which all truth is birthed.

1. Who do I trust?

2. Where is my ego’s adversary?

3. I am Frodo fighting the Ring of my own ego; where is my Sam?

4. Why has God called me?

5. Has God called me?

6. Is my ministry just another successful imagination exercise; my ability to construct and fabricate a fantasy, incarnating a wish so people believe it to be true and I get what I want?

7. Where do I go from here?

8. If I seek comfort how can I be sure that I’m not shying away from ego-death?

9. What do I mean by ‘falling on the mercy of God’, when and where does it come and in what form?

10. What right have you to recite my statutes or take my covenant on your lips? (Psalm 50:16)

11. What drives me to speak so much in public?

12. How do I control/bridle my tongue, this fire?

13. Why do I still feel unsettled?

14. Why does the Lord call us to remember?

15. Are my expectations too high?

16. Are they unrealistic?

17. Is it wrong to feel like I’m in ‘hell’ and, on some level, enjoying it?

18. Where will I find Him?

19. When will He appear?

20. What is He doing?

21. Where are the links; the logical sequences?

22. How does a Being so distinct from me communicate with me?

23. How does He draw near to me?

Hide-and-Seek-Game24. What is an encounter with the ‘hidden’ God like?

25. Can God hide?

26. When will the game be over?

27. What ends the game: to find the unfindable person?

28. Is there a place in my house which would be good for writing?

29. Do I seek to be different?

30. Do I get a kick out of standing out from the crowd?

31. ‘The community of the lost and finding’; I wonder what that would look like?

32. Is that what God is opening up for me in my situation?

33. What will bring peace to all the voices we try to hold together?

34. Would it be possible to do stand up comedy as a ‘vicar’?

35. How do I get rid of this painful cramp in my hand? (I have since discovered it is called ‘mogigraphia’. Thank you, @yrieithydd)

36. Is my pedantry, in anyway useful?

37. Can God do something with it?

38. Is He rather wanting to help me shed it from my character?

39. What am I expecting in 2014?

40. What am I hoping for in 2014? (Thank you to Luke Bacon for those last two.)

41. If the future cannot change then where is the hope of transformation of oneself and creation as a whole?

42. What would a spiritual discipline of foolishness look like?

43. Is God the only being able ‘to humble Himself’ (Philippians 2:8)?

44. Can one humble themselves?

45. Is it not an act done to you rather than done by you?

46. Where does the difficulty to speak in popular images come from?

47. Why do I feel they are too ‘…and that’s a bit like Jesus.’?

48. Why am I not excited or pleased to be doing this work?

49. Is my heart in God’s hand, attuned to His pulse?

50. How can one tell if the work you are doing is the work He has for you?

Chapter 1: the different kind of monks and their customs

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…let us with God’s help establish a rule for Cenobites who are the best kind of monks.

Who is my community?

This opening chapter is sober reading. I return to the wise warning of Sister Catherine Wybourne,

Pray and read. I didn’t speak about RB until I’d lived under it in community for 15 years.

It is obvious that Cenobites, ‘those who live in a monastery waging their war under a rule and an abbot’ are St. Benedict’s ideal (aside from the Anchorites/hermits). This is right, of course, for not only am I reminded of God’s statement in Genesis, ‘“It is not good for the man to be alone.”’ (Genesis 2:18) but also we return to the question we asked last week, ‘Who is my master?’

It is clear that the monastic life is never to be done in isolation; an individual, personal choice unconnected from others but, rather, a public commitment to others with whom one binds oneself. St. Benedict establishes early, the call to monastic life is the call to a cenobiac life (the Latin derivation of the Greek koinos, “common”, and bios, “life”.) The Sarabaites and the gyratory monks are spoken of with such distain, ‘unschooled’, ‘untested’, ‘soft’, ‘openly lying to God’,

It is better to be silent as to their wretched life style than to speak.

Philip Lawrence, OSB, Abbot of Christ in the Desert, helpful suggests,

I suppose that we are all Sarabaites to some degree, and must fight constantly against that tendency…Humanly, of course, we all tend to call holy what we believe in and to consider forbidden that which we dislike. This is part of the gift of having a tradition that we can accept and grow in. (Philip Lawrence, “Chapter 1: The Kinds of Monks”, Benedictine Abbey of Christ in the Desert, January 8 2014, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/66.html)

The Sarabaites and the gyratory monks both are marked, not by the lack of other human beings but by the lack of a human authority; an abbot who is the focus and teacher of a Rule. A community, it seems, must have a shared set of principles (A Rule) and one who lives it out and interprets the Rule for the community (An Abbot) in order for it to be beneficial. It is of no use engaging with a ‘community’ if you are not willing to be obedient to others; sacrificing personal desires and will and allowing yourself be taught. Again, Lawrence wisely observes,

There is a real formation in having to deal with other human persons in a community and with having to learn to live with a superior who is not perfect and yet to whom we give our obedience.(Lawrence, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/66.html)

Even the Anchorites ‘have spent much time in the monastery testing themselves.’ Here I am reminded of Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk and spiritual writer of the 20th century, who yearned to retreat into a hermitage but was continually called to remain in the community at The Abbey of Gethsemani,

The hope of finding a more solitary life now seems to be quite well founded. There are definite possibilities, but also there are still very great obstacles to be overcome, not least of which is my own Abbot. (October 8, 1959, Thomas Merton to Jean Leclercq, ‘Survival or Prophecy?: The letters of Thomas Merton and Jean Leclercq (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2002) p.83)

This statement of desire to enter a solitary life was penned in 1959. Seven years earlier in Merton’s journals he is making decisions to enter into solitude,

I am now almost completely convinced that I am only really a monk when I am alone in the old toolshed Reverend Father gave me. (September 3, 1952, Thomas Merton, ‘A Search for Solitude: The Journals of Thomas Merton: Volume Three 1952-1960’ (New York: HarperCollins, 1997) p.14)

Remembering that Merton entered the monastic life in 1941, that’s a cenobiac life of 10 years before coming to a definite conviction to becoming an ‘Anchorite’ (although Merton always disliked the categories given to different types of monk). Even then, He would have to wait until 1965 until entering his own hermitage and living the life of solitude.

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The Common Life

There is no escaping this question of human community with whom to live out the ‘common life’. As an ordained minister in a parish, who is my community? Who are the people who will share a ‘common life’ with me? The answer should be the congregation with whom I find myself but this is problematic.

There’s a popular notion that it is difficult and dangerous to be ‘friends’ with members of your own congregation. The reason is given that you can’t be close and intimate with one member with out being so with others. I think this is a silly notion and dismiss it. Ordained ministers must have personal relationships and will always have closer and stronger relationships with some members than others. Unless one either cuts themselves off from all close relationships then you will always spend more time and be more open with one, more than another.

The Cenobite, however, in order to give themselves completely to a ‘common life’ must know the trust and safety of deep relationship. It is difficult to enter into a life-long committed relationship without some degree of trust. Vulnerability requires a sense of safety, however small that might be. Here is where, community becomes tricky in parish.

Ordained ministry can become very much one sided in terms of commitment to relationship and community life. The reasons people attend church are many and varied from duty to a deep call/vocation to the life and work of God’s Church. Some turn up just for a quick fix, or because it is just part of their routine; they desire nothing more than to hear the same old words and to be comforted and propped up by a sense that it’s still going on. Others go to be challenged, to be given something to think and pray about; they want to reflect deeply about their faith, to encounter God. As a pastor to all of these, as well as to those in your parish that don’t attend church, you want to enter into their lives to be there in every aspect. You want to be able to speak words of comfort, consolation and challenge at the important moments of life; ultimately, you want to point to God at those times when He’s most needed.

This desire for that kind of relationship and community is not shared with everyone or fully understood by others. Some actively reject such intrusion whilst others seek it too much. Whichever way people go, the impetus comes from you. There’s rarely a sharing of life, equal and balanced in a ‘middle of the road’ Anglican parish. To call a whole congregation to a more committed ‘common life’ is not desired by all members as we all, as Lawrence suggested, ‘we all tend to call holy what we believe in and to consider forbidden that which we dislike.’ Where might the cenobiac commitment to other human beings challenge the consumerist approach seen at different degrees within parish ministry?

In the Diocese of York we have been looking at Five Marks of Growing. one of these is ‘commitment’. ++Sentamu wants to see disciples of Jesus growing in commitment. This must, I feel, include, at some level, a growth in the commitment to a common life and a more ‘monastic’ call.

So what does it look like to be in community, in a parish, when even members of your congregation aren’t interested or inclined to increase their commitment beyond their Sunday attendance?

I’d want to suggest a formalizing of the observable norm in most congregations: a central core group and a fringe. This is not about creating a boundary around the core people, stating some are ‘in’ and others ‘out’ but rather a marking of a central point with which one can place oneself; a shared set of principles (A Rule). Most congregations have this in some form or another but often it remains unspoken, and therefore unshared, or it is spoken of ambiguously (the generic, ‘In, Up and Out’).

Reflection

To be protected against myself I need to take up the yoke of A Rule, under the obedience to an Abbot.

I have committed, for three years, to the Rule of the Northumbria Community but I am currently struggling with the lack of a physical community around me with whom to share that walk. I also see the need of an Abbot under whom I can allow the Rule to shape and challenge me. The leaders of the Northumbria Community are available but are not sharing life with me; the everyday moments. Without an Abbot I am a Sarabaite with all the tendencies described in the Rule of St. Benedict.

Holy Trinity, Divine Community, You make us to share life with others. Help me to establish a rule under which I might learn the joys of obedience. Show me the human abbots with whom I can share the common life and to whom I can look for protection against my ‘unschooled desires’.

Come, Lord Jesus 

In The Rubble We Will Sing

20133118111695840_8This morning I woke to the news of the government drafting legislation for three person IVF treatment to allow parents to protect babies from defective mitochondria which leaves them ‘starved of energy, resulting in muscle weakness, blindness, heart failure and death in the most extreme cases’ (BBC News page) by having the DNA from a third party used in the creation of their child. This opens up a vast set of issues on the very nature of life, family, society, etc. After this item there followed the news that surgeons’ individual performance is to be publicised to enable to help patients make informed decisions. This too holds so many much much larger questions about our lack of trust, social contracts, etc. These items come on the back of the issue of gay marriage, banking reform, energy sources, etc.

The Western world is in turmoil. There is no denying that. Change is in the air and most, if not all, people are feeling unsettled, chaotic and scared. The world is always changing; look at Heraclitus (Greek philosopher of 5th century B.C.) who is famous for saying

You never step into the same river twice.

What is scary for me (trying as best as I can to take an overview) is how lost we all are. I use the word ‘lost’ deliberately and I use the word ‘we’ with equal seriousness.

We are lost because we have no direction or rather we have no shared direction when it comes to ethcial discussions. There is an ever-increasing number of options and subjective choice as to which direction we should take that no one view can be held as better or worse than another. This is the fruit of individualism and subjectivity. I have been saying it for so long I’m tired of hearing myself say it. We have got a culture where “What I think and feel is right because it’s what I think and feel.” This unquestioning subjectivity of reality leads to a break down of society. Descartes has a lot to answer for!

We are lost in an ethical abyss with no firm footing or basis by which to discern right from wrong. Our laws and government no longer know how to speak ‘truth’ because ‘truth’ is not shared or agreed upon. The legal system now just protects us individuals from hurting other individuals by our holy, sanctified individuval lives. And we are surprised by the rise in loneliness, depression, a deep seated experience of isolation from fellow human beings, relationships hard to find and sustain and the language we use is so fluid that any meaningful expression is lost and misunderstood. At the heart of this is the current discussion on marriage. This is the sole, most important issue which is unlocking all other issues.

I am seeing this ethical debate on the nature of marriage (both the contents and the way in which it was undertaken) as a piece of dynamite ready to explode the constructs already teetering on their foundations. I say this because it cuts to the core of our discomfort and uncertainties; identity, society, trust, relationships, love, truth, the place and reality of un-tangible concepts within our society, etc. Again (and I really mean AGAIN!) I am not putting a value on either view of the outcome of this particular debate. I do not want to add to that discussion. I am trying to see the underlying issues at work and discuss those.

All around us is wobbling. We are unsure that what we’ve built our lives on is a firm and secure as we first hoped. Then this piece of dynamite is placed along side the cracks already forming and it is blown.

It feels that, in search of freedom we have become enslaved to our own feelings, emotions. Beliefs are based on hunches and gut reactions rather than wisdom.

Wisdom. Where are you, Wisdom? We have built our replica of you and parade it about while you silently watch on from the wings. We make this pathetic imitation dance and move and are deceived into think that it lives but it is but a puppet representation of your life and being.

When will we learn that this individualism and self-seeking, self-constructed framework of society is a sham of the most dangerous and destructive kind?

We have no ethics because we no longer understand the most important fact that lies, unrecognised at the core of our existence: human beings are imperfect, unknowing, ignorant fools. Each and every one of us is skewed in our perception of reality. We are drunk, hazed over with our inner selfishness. Even me. I am guilty of that most hideous of crimes: self-delusion, pride even in my own self-disgust. I am trapped and imprisoned in my own ego. My ego lashes out defensively and subtly twists all I see and do into ‘right-ness’, justifications of thoughts, ideas, policies. My ego distorts, degrades and destroys reality for self-protection. That is why I use ‘we’! I stand in the dock and am guilty!

We. We are lost. Lost in this pathetic state of life. Once the explosion happens and all comes down, as it will and should what will we do?

Firstly, I suggest, acknowledge our weakness, our shortcomings, the ethical mess we are in. To admit the devastation around us. To pick up the pieces of rubble and weep over the brokenness. To silence all voices and to stand in the reverential place of pure and painful humility.

After this we must sing sombre songs of lament. In this place of seeing ourselves as the pathetic creatures we can become we must sing a song of sorrow from our hearts with the tears of truth streaming down our faces. Allow the melody of a minor key to stir us into deeper reality and begin to experience a healing. This healing cannot come from any human source for all those fountains are corrupted and diseased; what comes from them is the fruit of a poisoned tree. No. This healing is found by those who enter this place of reality with humility and fear, reverence and care. Its source is a fearful and un-nameable place which we all would rather forget and push to one side but its reality is sure. We have buried this source with our humanistic, concrete-like concepts of progress and intellect. It is been stopped by force by us. Silently and subtly we have continued to block it up with small incremental steps and we did it all in the name of ‘liberty’ and happiness. Now all our constructs are rubble, the plug has been freed and the pure waters can be drunk from again.

Finally, I want to shout, in the silence, after the songs of lament, confession, sorrow and disgust there is a space to, together, open our eyes. In the cracks of the devastation where the water of healing, life and hope trickles fresh, new things are growing. We recognise them but have lost their names. None of us will dare move in case we trample on the young buds sprouting. The purer ones of us, the ones well versed in lamentation and self-surrender, they will move first and welcome the new arrivals on our landscape. They will smile and will speak first, naming them afresh and reminding us of their beauty and truth. We will hear it; some recalling quicker than others and we will finally share the story of reality.

At the moment this is not and never can be possible in the way we are progressing now. We are blind to the truth and we are doomed together.

If

There’s a question that puts fear into many people’s heart, forces others to put up defense mechanisms and for others encourages the opinion that the one who is asking the question is naive and foolish. I believe this question, however, opens us up to inner transformation and the reception of joy and wonder. This question, when entertained and digested, changes our view of reality so that all we experience is brought into question. What is this question?

What if…?

Konstantin Stanislavski, a Russian theatre director, actor and writer on acting method, discusses the ‘magic if’. This kind of questioning allows an actor to transcend their perceived realities/ actualities and enter into the realm of possibility/potentiality. What is interesting about this technique, in light of philosophical understanding of ‘truth’, is it calls into question what we know about our experiences. Too often, in life, we believe only that which is actual, empirical, stable and tangible.

Rene Descartes’ search for true knowledge led him to dismiss anything that he could doubt in anyway. After discarding perception as unreliable he arrived at the famous belief ‘I think therefore I am’. Descartes’ conclusion is based on an understanding that if he doubted, then something or someone must be doing the doubting, therefore the fact that he was able to doubt proves his existence. At the most basic, Descartes knew he was a thinking thing. Despite my reservations about how this theory has been adopted and adapted by philosophers since (enforcing a natural turn to individualism and self centredness), it is useful in beginning the process of understanding the world around us as questionable.

The Matrix popularised this concept in 1999 as the protagonist, Neo, is pulled from his perceived reality into the real world. All that he had experienced up to that point was a fabricated, controlled and projected world which only existed in his mind; his real body was being farmed and used as a battery for alien beings. His discovery and explorations all start with the potentiality of such truth; he asked ‘what if…?’

What if I’m not who I am told to be? What if this is not the only way? What if it’s not true? What if it is true?

I grew up in a house where the search, the discovery, the process of learning was embraced and encouraged. In our family understanding and learning was the main aim of life. This has shaped me to be a person who asks questions, who never ceases to test, reflect and explore (much to the frustration of those around me!) Such questioning is not a challenge to authority nor is it a rejection of tradition; for me it is an awareness of and search for Beauty and Truth in the world around me.

As I continue to settle into this new community in York, I am re-discovering how uncommon such an outlook on life this is. I have been fascinated by how many people react so strongly to simple questions. People have felt threatened, challenged, insulted by me as I grasp hold of things, turn them over in my hand, investigate, prod, probe but ultimately with an attitude of wonder and intrigue. My wide eyed excitement at learning and experiencing something; trying to identify the uniqueness and intricate truths about something, enjoying it for what it really is and trying to find that which will make it mare real, more truthful.

What ‘what if’ questions do is open up our minds to the possibility of an encounter with the unknown. The reason this is scary is because the known is safe, comforting, stable. It is a rock on which we can have some foundation. We all have, however, just under the surface of our consciousness, a deep awareness of the changeability of life, the existence of flux; truth is not as certain as we thought it might be. The moment we entertain this thought our hearts begin to race and fear sets in. In matters of faith this becomes difficult to take. How can God be our rock, our firm foundation, whilst at the same time be ‘unknowable’ and transcendent. God refuses to be held, pinned down, confined and articulated fully. His relationship with human beings, throughout the Bible’s narrative, is one of playful, part-revelation. Ultimately His approach to encounter is one of ‘glimpses’ rather than fully and unrestrained.

I digress.

Innovation and creativity always starts with a question. The power, however, is not in the answers to such questions but the journey it starts. People often misunderstand the role of questions. As a theatre director, my role was to guide actors through a process of discovery, an invitation to enter into a world of awareness to the stimulation of their environment. An alert, aware, responsive actor is a prepared actor; the same is true of human beings.

Here’s where the question becomes powerful: We walk around on this earth taking so much for granted, assuming so many things, leaving most ideas, objects, beliefs unexamined. Socrates was right,

An unexamined life is not worth living.

‘What if’ questions begin the process of examination and contemplation. This process is scary, unsettling, overwhelming and uncomfortable but it is only by entering into this space that you find a strength so transcendent that you can remain calm even in the deepest storm. Living the question, in my experience, is becoming aware of the beauty, wonder, and amazement of the world around us. The smallest thing becomes of infinite importance, you hear words with all their meaning, you see faces with all their history, you see the potential of every person, even yourself.

People today close themselves off to the unexamined out of fear and trepidation whilst, at the same time, they close themselves off to new discovery, life giving encounter, affirmation, understanding of what is really going on. That which seems frightening, overwhelming is in fact an invitation to receive a gift; life.

Peter Brook finishes his book ‘The Empty Space’ with the following thought,

In everyday life, ‘if’ is a fiction, in the theatre ‘if’ is an experiment. In everyday life, ‘if’ is an evasion, in the theatre ‘if’ is the truth. When we are persuaded to believe in this truth, then the theatre and life are one. This is a high aim. It sounds like hard work. To play needs much work. But when we experience the work as play, then it is not work any more. A play is play.

I’ve been struck by how many people have questions and they feel uncomfortable with them. They are told by some unknown force that questions are bad and should be eradicated. I find the opposite to be true; answers destroy life. Rowan Williams suggests,

Christ may indeed answer our questions, but he also questions our answers.

I have returned again and again to the realisation that life is best experienced as a playful exploration and creative journey. Answers are the end of growth, searching and newness; questions begin journeys, discoveries and new life. In the theatre ‘what if’ questions wipe the slate clean and begin things again. Questions invite relationship with someone. Questions, when handled as gift, encourage our souls to sing with wonder, humble adoration and openness to all that is around you.

As I ponder my place in this new ministry I am aware that the world doesn’t need a church to answer their questions but one that creates a safe place to seek, explore and experience the Unknown. A church which asks the questions of society’s answers is a church embodying Christ Himself.