Tag Archives: monasticism

Chapter 16: the Day Office

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

Why prayer?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Monastic Apostles/Apostolic Monks

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

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

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

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

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

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

Starting at Mark 6:6b we read,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reflection

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

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

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

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

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 15: the seasons during which Alleluia is chanted

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

Is it Hallelujah or Alleluia?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reflection

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all very impressive.

The manager says,

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

The farmer replies,

I dig very deep wells.

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

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

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

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 14: Night Office on saints’ days

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

Why remember the saints?

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

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

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

Bonaventure, Sexburga, Zynovij, Bairfhoin…

And after these came me,

Odo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reflection

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

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

Many have tried. All have failed. Alleluia!

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

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 13: lauds – ordinary days

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

Why are we different?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They will soon learn how backwards they are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hauerwas goes on to say,

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

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

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

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

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

Reflection

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

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

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 12: lauds – celebration

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At Sunday Lauds…

Why should we praise Him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reflection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come, Lord Jesus.

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

Chapter 10: how the Night Office is to be said in summer

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From Easter to November first the same number of psalms laid down above is to be said.

How do you remember all those lines?

We remain here at the Divine Office of Matins or ‘Vigils’ for another chapter; this one slightly shorter than the other two and, on the face of it, with little to be added to the reflections on this particular activity. There are two things, however, which stand out for me: the memorising of the readings and the real importance of the psalms.

As a theatre practitioner from an early age, learning texts to recite/perform is second nature to me now (a line from My Fair Lady, which goes to show how quickly I can recall scripts!) I have spent the last eight years learning bits of Scripture to ‘present’ in worship services at different times. From Genesis to Acts, Ruth, the Gospels and most recently, Jonah. It doesn’t take me long to get the text in my head (although it is taking longer the busier my mind gets) all I need is a dedicated hour or so for long passages.

I enjoy working through a passage and studying the original meaning and translating it into a modern context. I rarely change words from the translation that is given and when I do it is a deliberate choice made to get a particular point across. I’d rather use the words in the translation and use tone and inflection to communicate meaning and I say that because meaning and interpretation should always be held in a state open to questions but the words, for me, must remain relatively static.

The benefit of learning Scripture is manifold. I want to just speak on two for now.

I’m sure that I am not alone in the experience of listening to the Bible being read in Church services and feeling bored to the point of death. Well meaning and faithful Christians get up to the front with a bible in hand and in a monotone and sombre voice begin to speak the words on the page in the order that they have been written, sometimes noting punctuation but often not. Is it any wonder many people are not inspired to read this book if the people who apparently are meant to receive the revelation of God Almighty through it are so down beat and depressed by it!

I’m always surprised when Christians don’t want to read the Bible but I can understand their view when it is presented in a dry and tedious fashion. Yes it is confusing at some points, yes there are passages which challenge and others which are just a list of names but if your starting impression of this book is that it is complicated, dry and difficult to stay awake to then I wouldn’t pick it up. It’s like me and War and Peace; I know I should read it but the impression I get is it’s just a long book which is difficult to read. That impression is a big stumbling block for me.

I learn the Scripture by heart so that I can tell the story of God and His people in a way that may inspire people to pick up the book and carry on reading. If I am not concerned with making sure the sentences make sense and I say the right thing then I am free to look people in the eyes and tell them this story like I’d tell them any exciting tale from my life or someone else’s.

When I work with people to help and encourage them to develop their reading style I’ll often suggest two exercises: imagine this story happened to you or that what you’re telling people is something you believe in and then go through the text and mark out the kay words or phrases which people should be able to remember after you’ve finished. We forget, in the fear of perceived failure and weight of expectation, that the Bible is life giving. The words reveal the character of God. If we read the Bible and people feel bored and unconnected to what you’re saying then that’s the impression they’ll get of God. For me lifting our eyes and connecting with people, telling this story like we tell other stories such as what we did yesterday or a memorable day from our pasts captures people and they live it again with us.

The second benefit of learning Scripture is more important than the last: so ‘the word of Christ dwell in you richly.’ (Colossians 3:16) I don’t remember all the passages, word for word, that I have memorised but I remember key phrases and the meaning of them. I recall them when I accidentally use similar phrases in life. When I am trying to talk about God I find phrases and passages coming to mind and I am better able to use them in everyday life. Having a general knowledge of different texts also helps when struggling with passages in the Bible; you’re able to better balance and compare ideas and bring the story together. This protects against taking verses out of context or using them falsely.

In this time of Lent it is useful to follow Christ into the desert of temptation and, like Him, use Scripture to defend against the lies and deceits of the Devil who will, as he did in the Garden of Eden take what we think God says and twist it. To be able to quote God and, through wisdom, know it’s meaning is a weapon against the powers of darkness that will seek to confuse us as to who and God is like. The devil tries to soften us to make God in our own image, to become certain that God is what we think He’s like rather than allowing the true God to reveal His perfect character to us.

After I present a passage of Scripture from heart there’s one response that is predictable,

How do you remember all those lines?

It is disheartening. Why? Because it’s the wrong question. It makes me feel like that what I was doing was showing off a party trick rather than being helpful in engaging people with the revelation of God. I consider packing the whole thing in and not bothering because people are so distracted that I can memorise something like a country fair exhibit that they’re no more inspired by the words that I was speaking.

So for all of you who watch any performance where an actor or performer learns lines off by heart here is the answer to that question: They picture the words on the page, or they connect certain words with actions, or they learn the words to a rhythm or tune. We all remember things; pin numbers, song lyrics, sequences of events, names, faces, etc. We do it because we care about them or they are important. Actors learn lines because they’re important. It is a skill which anyone can learn given the time and dedication. It is a discipline and I encourage you all to try to do it with Scripture.

After you see someone do such a ‘feat’ and you feel you want to say something to them afterwards, don’t say ‘How do you learn all those lines?’ Rather talk them about the words they have spoken, the tone of voice they chose, their interpretation and engage them in a conversation about their process. Ask them,

What did you learn from all those lines?

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The Book of Psalms

It is interesting to me that, between ‘Easter and November first’, with the shortened time between midnight and sunrise, St. Benedict chooses to cut the number of readings down to one short passage (memorised) and not cut the number of psalms said. Twelve is a large number of Psalms particularly for slightly longer ones. What is so special about the Psalms?

Abbott Philip Lawrence, OSB notes,

The number 12 is very important in the history of monasticism because a tradition that an angel appeared to Saint Pachomius and revealed to him the importance of praying 12 psalms. (Philip Lawrence, “Chapter 10: The Arrangement of the Night Office in Summer”, Benedictine Abbey of Christ in the Desert, March 11 2014, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/880.html)

Thomas Merton puts the grand-ness of the psalms well when he writes,

To put it very plainly: the Church loves the Psalms because in them she sings of her experience of God, of her union with the Incarnate Word, of her contemplation of God in the Mystery of Christ. (Thomas Merton, ‘Praying the Psalms’ (Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1956) p.9)

The Psalms are not just about what we say and what we get out of them but there’s an element in which our prayers are replaced by the prayers of the Other. For Merton it is the Church and God. Dietrich Bonhoeefer puts it nicely when he says,

The Psalter is the prayer of Christ for his Church in which he stands in for us and prays in our behalf … In the Psalter we learn to pray on the basis of Christ’s own prayer [and] as such is the great school of prayer. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, ‘The Psalms: The Prayer Book of the Bible’ (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1970))

In some psalms it is easier to see and experience this than others. Walter Brueggemann, another great scholar and theologian whose book on the psalms is well worth reading, says this about those more difficult psalms,

Much Christian piety and spirituality is romantic and unreal in its positiveness. As children of the Enlightenment, we have censored and selected around the voice of darkness and disorientation, seeking to go from strength to strength, from victory to victory. But such a way not only ignores the Psalms; it is a lie in terms of our experience. (Walter Brueggemann, ‘The Message of the Psalms’ (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing, 1984) p.11)

This morning in Northumbria Community’s Morning Prayer we read Psalm 94 which begins,

O Lord, you God of vengeance, you God of vengeance shine forth.

Rise up, O Judge of the earth; give the proud what they deserve.

My father in law once said that all the psalms seem to say,

God is good… now kill all my enemies.

I am regularly needing to edit down Psalm 139, which I use at funerals, because no one, at a time of sorrow and loss, needs to hear,

O that you would  kill the wicked, O God, and that the bloodthirsty would depart from me… I hate them with perfect hatred; I count them my enemies.

How is reading, let alone praying, these psalms allowing Christ to pray through us? How are we being shaped into the likeness of Christ by speaking these desires out? Brueggemann suggests,

By the end of such a Psalm, the cry for vengeance is not resolved. The rage is not removed. But it has been dramatically transformed by the double step of owning and yielding. (Walter Brueggemann, Praying the Psalms (Minnesota: Saint Marys’s Press, 1982) p.68)

Brueggemann also gave a series of talks on the psalms and here is a link to a video which sums up his view, which I think is helpful.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDfzzJD8IpI

St. Benedict is clear that the ordained men and women of the Church should be, with Christ, praying on behalf of the Church. It is more important that we are interceding, coming between God and His people and acting as a bridge and a link; not with our own agendas and desires but being cleared to be pure channels of God’s grace into His Church. This is our role, not to grow in our inner life within a holy huddle, cloistered and protected from others but that we do the task of contemplation on behalf of the whole Church. Prayer is a task not a luxury (although we hope that it is both.)

 Reflection

Despite being a small chapter it has thrown up two very practical challenges for me as I start Lent.

1. Why is it that I only learn Scripture when I am presenting it in public? How can I develop a practice of learning Scripture for the benefit of my own spiritual development, for protection against temptation?

2. How can I better develop my reading of the Psalms as the basis of my prayer life for the benefit of Christ’s Church? Where are the Psalms within the life of the parish church? Is there scope within Burning Fences where the psalms could be used in a creative way to express some of our spirituality?

I did start to try and learn the psalms off by heart (following the example of St. Aidan and many other celtic saints) but struggled. I think they need music to help me remember them and pray them as I travel round. I looked for some CDs of complete set of Psalms being sung but I never found anything. If any of you lovely readers fancy getting me a gift then that would be nice!

Christ, you prayed the psalms for Your people and so I join with You. Teach me to pray.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 9: how many psalms are to be said in the Night Office

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…As the singer starts the Gloria, everyone will stand at once and all will bow their heads in honour of the Holy Trinity.

What’s so special about ordained ministry?

The fact that St. Benedict decides to give more than one chapter to this particular Divine Office seems to highlight an important point. I feel, having sat with it for a week in prayer, the point it makes is the cost of this particular monastic calling. If the Divine Office of Matins starts at midnight and the next Office (Lauds) is at daybreak then the question of when sleep happens is very pertinent.

Last week I decided to stay up and do prays starting at midnight. I did the Evening Prayer from Common Worship with all the Canticles and lectionary readings and psalms. I was finished at 12.35pm but I didn’t spend that long in intercessory prayer. To be truthful I was rushing the office. My meditation on the Psalms was minimal at best and the readings weren’t going in. This is all forgivable, I told myself, but what was interesting was that what I was asking myself to do was small in comparison to what is required of the Office of Matins in the Rule of St. Benedict.

If you just read the amount of Psalms alone it’s enough to make your head swim (and I love the Psalms!) This is clearly a long Office and is intended to be a real ‘vigil’. As monks you were being asked to, after a day of work and prayer to stay and watch with the Lord, like the disciples in Gethsemane. Before Matins some monks would have to have had a short nap in order to give full attention to the Office because I don’t think an abbot would be too pleased with snoring during an Antiphon!

This week, as part of the Northumbria Community’s set daily reflections, have been using quotes that have shaped the community’s narrative and identity. On March 2nd they quote Thomas Merton,

The monk is not defined by his task, his usefulness. In a certain sense he is supposed to be ‘useless’ because his mission is not to do this or that job but to be a man of God. (Thomas Merton, ‘Contemplation in a World of Action’ (New York: Doubleday, 1971) p.27)

A monk, unlike others called into ministry (lay and ordained), is to be dedicated to the work of prayer and watching. Increasingly I feel, within the conversation of ‘leadership’, that the forms of leadership of the laity and the clergy are so synonymous that it is hard, with any integrity, to distinguish the two unless we embrace a more monastic view of ordained leadership. This distinction would then release the model of leadership currently being proposed as ‘ordained ministry’ into the realm of the laity (as it already is in many instances) focussing on the life of ordained ministers to be the necessary centres of sacraments, prayer and watching.

This is not necessarily a passive, background ministry, although that may be one form it takes. Rather it allows for a spiritual leadership of a community distinguished from the functional, administrative and management that ties down many rectors, vicars, priests. To be the centre of sacraments is a more holistic ministry than the purely functional presidency of the Eucharistic life of the parish but extends to the ministry of reconciliation, bridging and being the focus of connection with a tradition both historically and globally. The ordained ministry, in all three forms (deacon, priest and bishop) would then be allowed to be a more spiritual oversight and guides to a community giving equal worth and value in the lay ministry of leadership akin to a Prior in the monastery compared with the abbot.

The work of keeping vigil is an important one but one that cannot be done by the same people who also have the pressures and strains of keeping and maintaining the practical work of a community going. The two must be connected and serve one another and so the organic image of the Body of Christ comes into focus.

In the missional community I am a part of, Burning Fences, there are many exercising leadership amongst us. What’s exciting about the group is the freedom for any member to take responsibility and direct us. There are clearly those who do this more naturally than others but there’s also those who do this leading in a more quiet way. As I reflect on my role within this particular community I am excited that I am free to be a priest amongst them; ordained in the Church of England to be that focus of tradition, a story-keeper of the Christian faith. This means that I can participate in discernment as to the direction we should take but not more so than anyone else. I bring a unique and important voice to discussions, yes, I speak on behalf of the Christian faith, with all the responsibilities that brings. I watch, with God, those who drift and dwell around the edges and try and warn against falling into an abyss that will hurt or harm. I am not the centre of power, however; far from it. Others make decisions. I am their to ensure the story continues to ring true in character and is connected into the larger story of God through Jesus Christ. If one decides to venture down a particular path and I have spoken warning, then I fall into silence and pray. I will, with God, walk down that path to search for them if they become lost and hold them until they come back to safety of His loving presence.

Reflection

This chapter in the Rule of St. Benedict challenges me on my vows as a priest,

With their Bishop and fellow ministers, they are to proclaim the word of the Lord and to watch for the signs of God’s new creation. They are to be messengers, watchmen and stewards of the Lord. (The Ordination of Priests, Common Worship: Ordination Services, The Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England: The Prayer Book as Proposed in 1928; The Alternative Service Book 1980; both of which are copyright © The Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England)

I do not see in my vows the terms of management, secular leadership, etc. which is pushed through some areas of the Church. Why not release this to the laity and encourage and empower them to do this and for those called to ordained ministry to be those who oversee the spiritual aspects of the worshipping community? I’m sure there is funding issues and logistical issues in relation to manpower and deployment but I feel there is conversation to be had on that.

The call into ordained ministry really centred on this watchman role, the one who is willing to keep a vigil for the Kingdom of God. I feel my priesthood is about being the person who watches a community, guards the vulnerable on the fringes and ensures they are reconciled to Christ as the centre. I am in a community to pull the community around Christ as the centre and to focus our mission into the work of the Church Universal through the Word and Sacraments.

Lord, make me useless in the eyes of others and strengthen me in my task of prayer, reconciliation and watching. Give me the heart to keep Your story being told through the lives of all who you put in my charge and may I lead them by my discipleship into Your loving presence each day.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Contemplating the Surprise

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At the start of this year I began a practice of writing for twenty minutes a day to enable me to improve in the art form. Last night, as I sat down to begin this disciplined work I could think of a hundred and one different things I could be doing; the major one was sleeping. The temptation to miss a day remains a constant issue but the voices are getting quieter. They take the form, usually, of a simple question,

What harm will it do if you miss just one day?

Then a suggestion,

It’s not like you have anything particular to write…

It is that sentence which drives me to my desk, take up my pen and get to work. It’s the fact I don’t have any ideas to write or some pre-conceived concepts to wrestle out and process which inspires me to begin. You see, I have been involved in the arts for long enough to know what really makes us participate in creativity is the possibility to experience Surprise.

Surprise is the gold creatives and artists look for. It’s those moments when, despite having a thought or inspiration, however much the process is structured or one plans the product prior to the start of the work, an artist surprises themselves with the creation. In that moment there’s an awareness that we humans may not be alone in the process. We could break that particular encounter with surprise down into constituent parts like the ‘enlightened’ people we are but I know that such an exercise, stemming from 17th century science, has killed the arts. The research into creativity has led us no closer to a tangible explanation of that experience of ‘inspiration’.

inspiration-300x200All artists are seeking that surprise because it is a divine moment; a meeting with a force unnameable, holy. It is un-manufacturable and many have tried to force it only to be left high and dry. The reason it can’t be rushed or made to happen is because if you’re focussing on creating a surprise it will no longer be a surprise.

So the artist sits or stands or moves to the material and attempts, not necessarily to ‘empty themselves’ completely but to empty enough to focus on the process of the creative act. It is an emptying enough to create a void into which the creative force can fill or take over. What a mystery the creative process is! How it is done, etc. no one can fully explain. Why sometimes it ‘works’ and other times one is left wanting, who can say?

The artist, unique from other creative people, is the one who returns to the material as a matter of discipline, to rick being disappointed for the nth number of times. Chuck Close wrote this,

The advice I like to give young artists, or really anybody who’ll listen to me, is not to wait around for inspiration. Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work. If you wait around for the clouds to part and a bolt of lightning to strike you in the brain, you are not going to make an awful lot of work. All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the work itself.

This truth reminds me of the work of monks or nuns at prayer; they don’t wait around for an alignment of the stars to tell them when to pray, they turn up and start. They have more encounters with the Divine not because they are better at discerning or predicting the movements of God but because they turn up more often. They know how impossible it is to forecast the Almighty but He is always experienced Here and Now and never There and Then. When something is so ungraspable one has to give oneself more opportunities to catch it and so one enters the arena and waits but here’s the real secret; it’s not just a sitting and waiting but, while waiting, one gets to work and, after a time… surprise.

Chapter 8: the Divine Office at night (Matins)

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During winter… the brothers shall rise at the eigth hour of the night as is reasonable.

Why does prayer need to be so structured?

What now follows, between chapter 8 and 20, is a series of short practical and pragmatic directions as to when and how to say prayers. This may be hard going, particularly for people who don’t like rigid structure to something that ‘should be heart felt and organic’. As an Anglican I appreciate set prayers as well as extemporary (free-form) ones. There are times when you cannot muster an articulation and everything in you is buckling to the temptation to not engage. We will all come into seasons when prayer is not only tough but painful; to sit and speak to God is the last thing you want to do. Duty binds you to do it and so you try to begin but you have no words to say. It is easier to wait until you feel in the mood.

A rhythm of prayer is essential for such times.

When I was at college we said Morning Prayer everyday from Monday to Friday at 8.30am. For many of us this was not an ideal time and the form was not to our liking. We were sat down early on by the then warden and she laid down the law. Everyone was expected to come to Morning Prayer unless there was extreme circumstances and ones that had been checked by a tutor. Why? Because it was about setting a habit which would sustain you. It was about developing a prayer life which wasn’t based on how you felt but on commitment to God.

We are so keen to keep relationships on our terms. We know that we are social creatures but we fail, so often, on those demands of real connection. We want partners and friends who fit into our lives but we are not always willing to adapt to fit into theirs. Prayer can’t be just when we want to. There needs to be an element of sitting in God’s presence for Him.

St. Benedict is setting a rhythm of prayer to create a habit which gives God as much opportunity to do His work in our life. When God is shaping us or challenging some sin in our life it is painful and we don’t want to engage in the process so we stay away from times when He may want to speak. We want to stay in control of how much we give over to Him. With a habit of prayer which is regular we are given the structures which guard our hearts against such temptations and steers us into His presence.

The Divine office at night, or Matins, was to be said before sunrise in the darkness. Here St. Benedict gives clear instructions in case anyone feels they can become lax on such matters. Lauds, or Morning Prayer, is to be said at sunrise. We will explore why they had seven Divine offices during the day plus the one at night later on. For now, I want to say what we all will be thinking…

Are you serious, Benedict?!

It is thought that Benedict meant to have Matins start at midnight and, after it is finished, to go to bed to be awake and ready for Lauds at sunrise (7am, or 6am in the summer). I thought, as I was writing on the Divine Office at night for the next four weeks I’d try and stay awake until midnight and do Matins at the set time. As it happens, on Wednesdays I have an ecumenical prayer meeting which starts at 7.30am. It’s not quite being ready for prayer at 7am but it’ll be painful enough. I want to see how it feels. I will write about my experience and reflections next week.

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Parish Prayers

The question arises, however; how is this possibly going to work in a parish context? Is this one thing which should be adapted? Practically I’d have to concede, yes, it is wrong to consider it workable outside the committed life of prayer in a monastery. This comes from experience of trying to get people to join me just for morning and evening prayer. I will be reflecting on this struggle to encourage a regular pattern of corporate prayer amongst people who have work schedules and families over the next few weeks because it seems it is over something as tangible and understandable as when we should pray together that this ‘parish monasticism’ all begins to unravel and I’m not in the least bit surprised. Why would Satan want us to pray regularly and be in a place where God will transform us?

Reflection

For the next week, try committing to praying at a set time each day, morning, midday, evening and night. Even for our of the eight offices set for Benedictine communities it’s tough going! I have established a habit of morning, midday and evening prayer and I still struggle to keep them, everyday. If this is too hard for you why not commit to taking on one extra prayer time than you’re used to. If you don’t have any set prayer time, set one, in the morning or at night or over lunch. You will definitely need a liturgy because you can’t always turn on prayer and sustain it for a set period of time; your mind will wander. There are lots of helpful prayers to help and hold you: The Northumbria Community’s liturgy is my preference, but there’s also the Simple Way’s Common Prayer and the Church of England’s Daily Prayer. Find one that you find helpful.

Lord, I want to meet with You on Your terms. I want You to do with me what You will however painful that might be. Reveal my weaknesses and strengthen me.

Come, Lord Jesus.