Tag Archives: humility

Chapter 14: Night Office on saints’ days

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

Why remember the saints?

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

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

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

Bonaventure, Sexburga, Zynovij, Bairfhoin…

And after these came me,

Odo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reflection

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

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

Many have tried. All have failed. Alleluia!

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

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 13: lauds – ordinary days

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

Why are we different?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They will soon learn how backwards they are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hauerwas goes on to say,

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

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

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

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

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

Reflection

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

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

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 12: lauds – celebration

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At Sunday Lauds…

Why should we praise Him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reflection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 11: how Matins is to be celebrated on Sundays

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The brothers will arise earlier than usual on Sundays.

How do we live in community?

When we thought that St. Benedict had designed the longest prayer service possible, he describes the Matins for Sunday. This service adds nine extra lessons and some more sung responses and ends up being, what must be a feat of stamina but I’m sure, when done well, an impressive vigil of prayer and praise. Again, if it is to be cut short for whatever reason (and there really isn’t any good reason!) then one should cut the lessons and never the psalms. The psalms, as we have seen, are of such high importance to the prayer life of the monastery.

As we make our way through this more prosaic part of the Rule of St. Benedict it is increasingly hard to hear the deeper, spiritual realities at work. It all becomes rather tangible and material; what to do, what to say, rather than the aims and objectives of the Rule of life. We must draw on the previous chapters, I feel, to remind ourselves of what St. Benedict had in mind for the monks.

How do we live in community?

In our church at the moment we are following the Diocese of York’s 5 Marks of Growing Churches. I am due to preach on Sunday on the theme of ‘Partnership’. The passage I will be preaching from is Ephesians 4:1-7 which talks about how to live in communion with others,

I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace…

I’m reminded of the reality of living with others after the honeymoon period has worn off. We hope that our resolve to be loving, and gentle and humble and patient will remain in the years and decades which follow such declarations of love but the truth is it’s hard for us fickle human beings to sustain such emotion. Our love is paltry and transient; only God’s love is eternal. We look at the description of love in 1 Corinthians 13 and try to cut it down to manageable chunks; we say, ‘Well I’ll focus on being patient today and then will fulfil my commitment to love the other person’ as if that was love. Love is patient, kind, not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. If any of that is not present then it is not love. It is all these things or it is not love. We human’s can never sustain it… that’s the point.
I quote Dietrich Bonhoeffer to couples as they prepare for marriage and on their wedding day,

It is not your love that sustains the marriage, but from now on, the marriage that sustains your love. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “A Wedding Sermon from a Prison Cell, May 1943”, ‘Letters and Papers from Prison’ (New York: Touchstone, 1997))

This reality is true in all relationships and communities. St. Benedict, in his Rule established early on the necessary virtues needed to survive real community life, obedience, humility, perseverance… Well, the characteristics described by Paul in his letter to the Ephesians and how do we achieve these high standards?

God.

There is no other way. We can try and strive towards community in our own strength but I have witnessed and experienced this and real community is never achieved because… the human will, despite what popular culture wants to be true, does not endure. Humans are not trustworthy, we never have been! We show signs of pure beauty and potential but these are rarely sustained without a Divine miracle.

The prayers set down here in the Rule of St. Benedict do indeed seem hard and overwhelming but when we acknowledge that they are there to continually remind us of our need for God to transform us and give to us the virtues described above, to conquer our human will to chicken out of change and obedience to the Other, then it begins to be put into perspective. My will is often to take short cuts or to postpone the difficult conversations with God about my character, motives and actions. Enduring prayer without engaging in that will defeat us and we will, after time fall into humbled obedience to the gracious God who is able to redeem our broken lives and re-shape us into the likeness of Christ to send us out into the world to change others and ultimately bring about His Kingdom on earth.

Reflection

There is no escaping the essential part that prayer has in achieving all the spiritual character depicted in Christian literature, from the Apostles to today. This prayer, for St. Benedict, is not a short petition to the Almighty before work or as we fall asleep at night; it is a dedicated, often all conquering spiritual defeat at the hand of the Almighty. I read the demands that the Christian life makes on my life and my first instinct is to give up because it sounds impossible to achieve. Then I remember that it is with God’s help that I stand and walk in His way. It’s not about me achieving it but rather about me giving space and freedom for God to enter into my life and change the furniture. This seems such an easy activity to do and so many of us think that we’re doing it but we hold onto control and resist the complete surrender of our lives because, truth be known, we hate it. It is rare to find someone who has surrendered their life in this way. The people I have met who truly show this life are monastic brothers and sisters. I cannot escape the truth that there’s something in this way of life which gives discipleship a real transformative depth and the gospel becomes real and meaningful.

I can’t help but feel that the Christian Church, on the whole, is far from the life described and demanded in the pages of the New Testament. We have lowered the bar on so many aspects, like we do with our understanding of love in 1 Corinthians 13, that we settle for the easier option. Our expectations of one another and ourselves makes us pale reflections of true Christlikeness. Many people will think that I’m being too harsh on us but surely I am not alone in looking around at the state of the church and the world and see a large disparity to the life of the early disciples and now.

In this time of massive cultural change, where is the moral compass? Where is Godly wisdom found? Where is the Truth of the Divine Creator being spoken? During previous cultural shifts it was in the monastic life that the rhythm of tradition and spiritual heritage was preserved and sustained. Are we investing enough in this way of life? Where is the discipline, obedience to our tradition and heritage within our churches?

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you and I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing.
And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road although I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death, I will not fear, for you are ever with me and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.(Thomas Merton, ‘Thoughts in Solitude’ (New York:Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1999))

Come, Lord Jesus

Crucify-ID

It’s cold outside and the wind is fierce,
Even the sun burns our skin.
We gather up the scraps and the clothing
That generations past have walked in.
We protect ourselves with well worn characters.
We wear them like fashion well out of date
We fight back the feeling of desperate isolation
of being outside the bourgeoisie which we hate.
We grasp onto survival by waiting,
Holding out for the affirmation of ‘retro’
Worse still we cling to these dying idols
Straining to point out their elusive echoes.

We are so thirsty for self,
So parched for identity,
So mind numbingly, blind hungry for static,
Certain understanding of what the fuck is going on
That we sell ourselves to the highest bidder.

Humility, it has been said,
Is not thinking less of yourself,
But thinking of yourself less.
This is neat and catchy, sure,
But one man tried it and found that he was dead.
But this man is remembered because he also said,
He was the revealed character of God, that’s why he bled.

Now if this is true,
And it may not be,
And God strips his masks
Then so should we.
If this is the character
Written in our DNA,
Before the world began.
Then this is the way
For a character to never go out of fashion
Because it’s not even about fashion
But about freedom and compassion
To enjoy others with love and with passion
Free from the identities given in rations.

Crucify them,
I cry.
Crucify them.
Hang them to die.
Crucify them.
Follow the character who defied.
Crucify them.
Release them and sigh.
Crucify them.

Crucify them.

Crucify them…

Written for a Burning Fences on Wednesday 12th March 2014 as an introduction to a discussion on Peter Rollins ideas (Crucified Identities)

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 5: obedience

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The first degree of humility is prompt obedience.

Why should I listen?

There is a myth that ‘millennials’ (my generation who have grown up saddling the millennium) have no respect for authority. In reality I think we do have respect for authority but the authority must be earned before it can be trusted. This does lead to many of us dismissing first instances of authority, particularly if it is enforced with rigor; this is a dangerous tendency. Our primary authority is no longer in older figures, previous generations but rather in peers; this is an even greater danger for what it leads to is a narcissistic, blind belief in our own power, understanding and un-walked wisdom.

Blogger, Anna Mussmann, has written a really interesting critique on culture using the young adult fiction which is popular. The article is called ‘Millenials Think Authority Figures Are Untrustworthy Idiots, And Modern Culture Is To Blame’ and takes stories such as Hunger Games, Finding Nemo and Splendors and Glooms to explore what these books have taught and continue to teach us growing up in this culture. Mussmann argues,

…when young adult fiction encourages reliance on transitory, peer-based relationships, it casts off the unifying role that classic literature once played. Our stories no longer bind multiple generations together. Instead they divide them… we even structure young people’s lives in ways that decrease adult influence and increase peer culture: our children are separated by age at school and attend age-specific youth programs at church (often never participating in traditional services that are designed for all-ages). They listen to their own music and text in their own language. The qualities which unify a culture, such as music, etiquette rules, and stories, are all things of which youth have their own.

This article is fascinating when considering my own attitude to obedience to authority figures of older generations. The issue, in my eyes, is always with them. This is an unhealthy reaction to many older people who have lived and experienced many things. I don’t want to dismiss my generation too quickly though. I do feel there’s always been an earning of trust and some blame must fall onto the previous generation who, after dismissing their parents for the mess of two world wars and the violent climax of enlightenment and modernism, felt they should never impose obedience on their children. In this context is it any wonder that young people today have little to no moral compass to guide them through the chaotic adolescence.

If you are a regular reader of my blog then you will know that over the last two or three years I have been increasingly vocal about ethics and virtues and the nature of moral discussions (read On Secularism, The Hunch, The Compulsion and The Overwhelming Pain, The Pope is Dust Just Like You and There is No Majority). The heady mix of my generation with my parents’ generation when running a society, is a cocktail for increasingly isolated people with highly subjective opinions to right and wrong trying to co-habit a claustrophobic space which leads inevitably to an increase in violence, physical and political. Our politic is broken because we have taken a shared narrative away and allowed a vacuum to be created. We now happily worship the absence in true nihilistic fashion.

Many young adults, especially those from the less affluent backgrounds, feel that they live in a world where family and community have eroded to the point of dysfunction. Personal loyalty may be their only hope in a dark, chaotic, and existential world. This kind of loyalty is the same moral value on which both gangs and tribes are built, and in many ways, our culture encourages a new kind of clique-like tribalism. Paradoxically, however, such loyalty is also constantly mutating, because our peer-oriented relationships (friendships and marriages) are self-chosen and therefore dissolvable. In real life the group loyalties break and reconfigure under strain. Such single-generation tribalism is also incredibly narrow. G. K. Chesterton argues that families are far more broadening than self-chosen companions because they force individuals to learn to understand many kinds of people. (Anna Mussmann, ‘Millenials Think Authority Figures Are Untrustworthy Idiots, And Modern Culture Is To Blame’, The Federalist, February 4th 2014, http://thefederalist.com/2014/01/23/millennials-think-authority-figures-are-untrustworthy-idiots-and-modern-culture-is-to-blame/)

Through this millennial lens I read St. Benedict’s words on obedience. I have explored in the previous weeks the role and nature of the abbot and have wrestled personally with my own attitude to the leader figure. I would argue that it is right, at this time, to reshape our understanding of leadership to fit the culture. In order to do that a leader must become an advocate to the people under his/her authority and we should embrace a more flat leadership model, organic in nature. This does not mean that the leader must become a friend, homogenous to the group, for that complicates the role of wisdom and obedience needed in order for personal and communal growth to occur. Authority is needed and it must remain external to the self. Tribalism is not a healthy way to exist but there are elements of it that should be encouraged; togetherness, sociality, loyalty but in Narnia this balance between friendship and authority is beautifully portrayed in the character of Aslan who remains aloof and separate from the children who must negotiate the strange and dangerous world of Narnia. I return again to the model of the ensemble theatre company; there is a sharing of leadership and direction but the role of the director becomes one of facilitator and ‘story-keeper’. This role ensures that authority is named and placed in a specific place. The challenge comes when the person who takes on that role mis-uses it. This is why the selection of such a person must come from the group and is placed on them through a sense of vocation and discerned calling.

Aslan’s style is to be alongside, encouraging but at times to demand the respect and authority to, enigmatically at times, to guide the children into strange and unknown experiences. The children do not understand why at the time but they are encouraged to trust the authority of figure to do it anyway. My generation would instinctively baulk at such suggestion,

Why should we?

Who does he think he is?

He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what’s good for me.

When I think of my personal authority figures, the ones who know me and guide me and whom I respect and obey, most of them are of a previous generation. They have earned my trust but remain separate enough from me to be able to command me and my will.

The church, I feel, must reflect on this cultural issue seriously when we discuss the nature of leadership and authority. There needs to be an overhaul of our images and models of leadership and I am increasingly convinced that we must return to a ‘priestly’ model where reconciliation and spiritual depth are primary roles. Obedience is demanded like Jesus demanded it; not by His words first but by His character. He was obviously a man who commanded attention but where it came from, no one could tell. Jesus, of course, is unique but as priest’s we are called to be His ambassadors in His Body, the Church. We are called to stand in His place between people and places, heaven and earth. We are to follow Him closely to encourage the people of God to do likewise. We must commit our lives to being lead by our Master in obedience and to speak the commands we follow to those whom God calls us to.
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Sacrificial Obedience

Not satisfied with calling the monks to obedience, St. Benedict takes it one step further and asks them to do so ‘without fear, laziness, hesitance or protest.’

Orders should be carried out cheerfully…God will not be pleased by the monk who obeys grudgingly, not only murmuring in words but even in his heart.

I am guilty of saying that I am happy to obey authority but doing so questioningly and with reservation. I act, in line with commands, suspiciously or creatively twisting the will of my superior to fit my own desires and will. St. Benedict is clear that true spiritual growth will occur when ‘These disciples must obediently step lively to the commanding voice – giving up their possessions, and their own will.’

I’m not sure if what I am about to suggest is skewed by my generational attitude to authority but I wonder if there’s an understanding here that the abbott himself is under the authority of the Rule and, prior to being called to the role of abbott has shown himself obedient to it. Thus his authority has been proved through his own discipleship. I wonder if his own discipleship and obedience must remain the hallmark of his leadership. The abbott must, in this understanding, follow and imitate Jesus, his Master, who followed and imitated His Father.

Reflection

This week’s chapter has cut to the heart of some personal issues for me and I am convicted to pray through my attitude. There is a sense in which it is a nudging back in line with God’s will and not a whole hearted overhaul. In parish ministry at this time there is a large confusion about right and healthy distinctions between ordained ministers and laity. In the past there has been some devastating situations caused by those in authority in the church and this has destroyed much of the Church’s authority. To destroy the whole thing and dismiss the tradition is too risky and dangerous and is akin to throwing ‘the baby out with the bath water’. There is such a call to wisdom but, unfortunately, my generation in this culutre will struggle to find wisdom for we no longer ascribe to a shared cultural narrative and to any virtues of character. The characters we share are story-less, peer-guided and self selected. With no wisdom this self-selection is vacuuous and vapour and we will lead ourselves ever darker into the abyss of nihilistic existence.

Lord have mercy upon us all.

Come, Lord Jesus.

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.’

London Calling (part I)

I landed in Earls Court on Sunday being heralded as an inspiring preacher with prophetic insight and wisdom. It would have been dangerous if people believed it but something much more destructive happened… I believed it! In the cold light of day, of course I know that I am none of those things and the man who said these things was just being kind but how easily the seductive voice of temptation digs deep within my soul. My ears stayed too long upon this melody and it’s paralysed me at times during my first days of my visit.

Subsequently my prayers have been for humility in my approach to discipleship; again and again I have been reminded that approaching our walk with Christ must start with humility. The words of the first Beatitude (see ‘Theatre Church (part VI a and b‘ post) is still bouncing around my head.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven. (Mt 5:2)

Interestingly, however, in my more sober moments, I have felt a real sense of the same prayer being for the community I have entered. A brief history of the congregation (as I have heard it) may be useful:

Prior to the arrival of their current vicar, Adrian Beavis, the congregation was made up of a large cohort of Koreans and an equally large community of Russians with a small part of ‘other’ nationalities. The Koreans had brought with them a rhythm of prayer that was typical for their culture, twelve prayer meetings a week; every morning before work, every evening and the weekends! Fervent prayer, underpinning their whole lives… who wouldn’t want this of their community? What it meant, however, was there was little time for outreach and mission and so, on the arrival of Adrian (an evangelist by nature), the balancing act of mission and prayer began. As I have begun to scratch the surface of this community I have felt the tension between whether they want to be a Benedictine styled community or a Franciscan. A Benedictine community will pray for those around them in silent, contemplative, ritualistic prayer. A Franciscan community will go out and serve those around them prayerfully. These are large generalisation but I hope they are helpful in seeing the difference.

I was immediately aware of the place of prayer in this community and finding myself reflecting on it. Prayer meetings have gone down from twelve to five; three mornings, a weekday evening and Sunday. When I asked why this decision was made I was quite rightly informed that, there comes a time when prayer needs to move into action and the sheer amount of prayer meetings was taking the energy away to do mission. What was being built up, previously, was a group of people who loved being together and praying but they did it so much no one new was being welcomed in or even found. The model of church being built now has been described as one that prays first then turns to mission, like two feet; one-step then the second then the first then the second. They felt now was the time to use the large and passionate prayers of the last generation to step out into mission.

I would agree that prayer should not be a hindrance to mission and outreach. Jesus called his followers to ‘Come’ and to ‘Go’ something that I have been wrestling with in a talk for 12th September… more on that later. This community, obviously, has not cut all prayer in favour of mission, they merely cut back in order to refocus some of the resources into outreach but what has been left?

From my first impressions of this community the gatherings have lost some vitality from what was being painted by older members of the congregations. There seems to be a feeling of laying down the passion and drive to pray in favour of mission. I don’t think the ‘refocusing’ was meant to have this effect but I think it may have done so. How has this happened?

I suspect (and I want to stress that word!) that in the communication of the movement towards prayer and mission that some may not have heard the ‘and’ that they felt the prayer life was no longer needed or wanted. They may have heard “This prayer has served its purpose let’s go out to mission.” I don’t think this is what the leaders in the church said because I know that’s not what they believe but, from what I’ve witnessed, there’s a subtle communication happening and it returns us to ‘humility’.

In the times of worship and prayer that I have been a part of I felt a desire to communally recognise that even to pray and praise we need God. God draws from us praise and the Spirit leads us in intercession (Rom 8:26) and we desperately need God to do mission. The prayers are focussed on God’s blessing on what we will do rather than on having an attitude of humility. We do not do mission, we engage with God doing mission. We come, therefore, before the Lord in humility, acknowledging our weakness and incapacity to achieve anything without Him. We work with Him but we are the secondary party.

As I prepare my offerings towards the church’s mission to Earls Court I am returning again and again to the knowledge that it is those who know their weaknesses and failings that will enter the kingdom of heaven. I have little to give but, by Him, all things are possible.

And I pray again;

Take what I offer, paltry as it is and make it last. Take these loaves and fishes that would just stretch to a snack and make it a feast for thousands. I want to join in your creative action for You are making a Kingdom that will last.