Tag Archives: prayer

Chapter 31: the cellarer

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He will take care of everything, but will do all under the abbot’s orders.

How then shall we live?

I have been a public critic of the isolated, CEO-styled leadership within the church for many years. Even when a leader ‘builds a team’ around them it can remain under their power and responsibility; no decision of any importance is made without them knowing of it. It seems sensible enough: if the buck ends with you, you’d want to be aware of the risks. A church can be a large ship and, therefore, needs decisive and visionary captains to steer it through decisions and strategies. This cannot be done through committee as disagreement costs time and and can divert the ship off course to their ultimate goal. With this understanding of ministry the pyramid structure of leadership is the most efficient and effective.

What if that wasn’t the aim of Christian ministry? What if the church wasn’t meant to have a five year plan because it had an eternal plan? What if the plan was not to have a militaristic styled strategy of ‘take-over’ the world because the plan was to simply live as if this world was of no threat in the light of the resurrection? What if the church was meant to be a gathering of people who were committed to living more like Jesus together and establishing a Kingdom which played by completely different rules to that of the world in which they find themselves?

In this sort of community there is no need for a head because the direction is not one person’s possession which he/she allows others to be a part of but the direction is set by a Spirit which is discerned collectively and owned collectively. In this model the community is like a family. What kind of family sits down and discusses their five year plan? Would they choose, at a family gathering, which of them is going to ‘lead’ the family? Is a father more important than a mother, one sibling more important than another? The one who cooks, are they deemed more responsible than the one who washes up?

In the Rule of St. Benedict, the role of the abbot is clearly a ‘leader’. I’ve read many articles, theses and books that use the role of the abbot in a monastery as a model for spiritual leadership and I’d agree with most of them but what is interesting is the role of cellarer; are they a leader or not? if a leader then a lesser one than abbot? The cellarer is under the authority of the abbot, for sure; it clearly says that but what kind of authority does the abbot wield over the cellarer? A humble oversight of the spiritual health of each and every monk. The role of the abbot is to ensure that, on the Day of Judgement, the monks can stand before God pure and holy in his sight. The spiritual health of the monks will be the measure of the abbot’s faithfulness to Christ. It is a heavy responsibility. The abbot is a teacher of the faith,

he should show them by deeds, more than by words, what is good and holy.

The abbot is an overseer and is entrusted with the task of ensuring the ethos and character of the community is that of Christ. He is not to be the decider of action; that is left to others. Although there is a complex relationship between character and action there is a distinction between the two. Whether our actions drive our character or the other way round it is clear that character is ‘being’ and action is ‘doing’.

I saw this this week and it made me smile!

In this understanding the abbot is the overseer of the community’s ‘being’ but it is the role of someone else to oversee the community’s ‘doing’. In St. Benedict’s understanding the ‘doing’/action must come from the ‘being’/character but it is not his role to decide what that ‘doing’/action is. The abbot establishes a partnership with others. This partnership is entered into by humble servants who are focussed on the weight of their respective roles. They must not be mistaken that their role is the highest but rather the lowest being always aware of the fallen nature of humanity and the insurmountable, unending task that lays before them; how to be the Body of Christ in the world.

The monastic call has always developed in times and places when the church is asking one question,

How then shall we live?

In the dust clouds of the falling worldly empires and structure, godly men and women have fled to the edge lands and asked this question. This question has led these gathered survivors first to silent mourning,confession, repentance and prayer; in this they strip themselves of the ways in which they were caught up in the dying empire and dismantle the inner constructions of the empires within themselves. After this confession and repentance they begin, slowly, to live out the basics of faith; to live simply, not to complicate things or move quickly. At each step they ask this one question. How do they discern what is right and wrong? by asking ‘Does it look like Jesus?’

Looking like Jesus is a character issue – pure and simple.

In order to answer, ‘What Would Jesus Do?’you must first ask ‘What Is Jesus Like?’; it is easier to decide what to do if you know what it is you want to be.

How easy it is to say,

Just be like Jesus.

But we all have a different understanding of who Jesus is… This is where the community becomes the most important factor: The Spirit of God points to Jesus and leads the people of God to know Christ and Christ crucified. It is the Spirit that tells us “Jesus Christ is Lord”. The Spirit moves in the Body of Christ not in one part of it. The Spirit is the life blood of the Body and flows to each part giving vitality and movement/action.

Wisdom and discernment takes time for us fallen humans but we are nowhere without it. We are like all other empires and worldly groups doing lots and being nothing. St. Paul has this advice to a Christian community,

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. (Philippians 2:3)

Do nothing,” says Paul, “from a place of ‘electioneering’ or when you are focussed on your office, nor empty pride, but, from a place of knowing of what you are made and to what you can quickly return to, lead others to be superior to yourself.” It is interesting that what is translated here in NRSV as ‘regard’ is the greek word ‘hegeomai’ which means ‘to lead’. Don’t move until you have the character and the Spirit directs you.

In the theatre an actor is given a character, then they are given a space in which to perform and to play, then they move and are shaped by the director. It’s a beautifully creative and surprising activity of playing and moulding. The same is true of the spiritual work of faith; we need to get to know the character, through reading the script. Then we attempt small movements and vocal trials all the while looking to the director for guidance and encouragement. In an ensemble model of theatre practice the director is not the dictator but a fellow artist; their role is to observe and ask questions. In the spiritual work the director is the Holy Spirit who prompts, challenges and encourages us to become more and more truthful portrayers of the character of Christ.

Reflection

Parish ministry is set up so the minister is the management and the spiritual director although they are different tasks and roles. As the leader with sole responsibility you are called upon to not only have oversight of the spiritual wellbeing of your community, vast and varied as that is, but also to make decisions as to what sermon series to do, organising events, setting up for services, making sure the rotas get done, managing PCCs with all the bureaucracy and business.

Imagine what could be achieved if the day to day running of a parish was established as a different role to the role of spiritual guide? I wonder what that might look like. Imagine if that was the expectation.

What I mean is, what if ‘leadership’ roles was more like St. Paul’s use of it in Philippians 2 as the raising up others and not drawing attention to the office. That discipleship was the desired office to have and the model of ministry was structured round the development of discipleship.

Heavenly Father, you call us all into your kingdom to be transformed into the character of Christ. help us by your Spirit to be formed daily into his likeness. May our actions reveal his character and may his character inform our actions that all of our being will reveal him to the world, for your glory!

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 28: those who do not change their ways despite much correction

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…if all this is to no avail, the abbot must wield the surgeon’s knife.

How do we reconcile?

It has not been easy to travel the last six weeks with the reflections on discipline, conflict and division. To have your prayer life shaped by the reading and meditating on such concerns, even hypothetically, causes a great burden to fall. I can’t wait until my prayers are shaped by utensils and hospitality but for now we must continue.

This week it is the heaviest of all the chapters on punishment. I will re-iterate a correction of the common understanding of excommunication for those of my readers who may have forgotten. Excommunication is not the total dismissing of a person from a community (well at least not in monastic life). Excommunication is aimed at being temporary and in this state the abbot still has contact and authority over the ‘wayward brother’; there is still hope of healing and a full re-instating. What is being discussed in this chapter, however, is the ‘surgeon’s knife’ (in another translation it is read as ‘amputation’).

I preached on Sunday about reconciliation, a theme the Lord continues to bring me to reflect on. I said in that sermon that I consider true reconciliation, the uniting of two parties with conflicting views and beliefs, to be humanely impossible. There is no argument or rationality that has ever changed someone’s deeply held convictions, those things that shape our identity. This is a matter of a spiritual shift; the work of reconciliation is a deep transformation down in the secret of all parties’ hearts. This takes time, trust and a transcendent commitment to the work of peace beyond rational thought and understanding.

There is obviously a human aspect to this work; the choice is left solely on the part of both conflicting parties to participate. This is understandable as all relationships are based on a free choice to be ‘bonded’ to another. If there was no freedom of choice then the relationship would not be genuine. Love requires freedom to exist. To be ‘re-bonded’ (which is what reconciliation literally means) requires that same freedom. Reconciliation cannot be forced upon anyone.

If we consider this in the context of peace talks between any warring parties at the moment (Israel/Palestine, ISIS/Christians, Russia/Ukraine) we can begin to see how purely rational, intellectual peace negotiations continual fail. Legislation which forces ‘peace’ is a fake peace and never a true reconciliation. What is required to encourage real reconciliation is a spiritual change on both sides; a commitment to attempt to freely choose to love. For humans who struggle to trust in the unseeable future, the miraculous changes in our spiritual core or the change of the lens through which we see the world, this reconciliation is impossible. We cannot imagine how we could ever trust someone who has hurt us so severely and so we resist. We begin the stalemate conversations of

They move first.

No They move first.

It seems strange, at first, to read in this chapter that it is after advice, the use of Scripture, excommunication and even the extreme: flogging that St. Benedict suggests

If even this has no effect, let him try greater things – his prayers and those of the other brothers – so that the Lord may cure the sick brother, for he can do all things.

There is a great realism here in how St. Benedict sees correction taking place. He knows, like us, that we will try all human avenues first (praying that they will work, of course) but in the end we must stop and invite God in to work in the place where only God can work. There will be times when the ‘sickness’ can be cured simply and we are encouraged to participate in that healing work through action. Then there is the time when all possibilities have been explored and you pass the patient onto the expert.

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Anointing with oil

All of this makes me think about the role of oil in liturgical settings.

(bear with me)

The use of oil is a contentious issue and one that not many people think much about. There are specific occasions when oil is required: baptism, confirmation, ordination, healing and the Last Rites. The biblical understanding of anointing with oil is not clear. It is mentioned 20 times in the whole canon and there is a distinction between ordinary oil and ‘anointing oil’. This anointing oil must be kept holy and separate,

”It shall not be used in any ordinary anointing of the body, and you shall make no other like it in composition; it is holy, and it shall be holy to you. Whoever compounds any like it or whoever puts any of it on an unqualified person shall be cut off from the people.” (Exodus 30:32-33)

There are strict rules in the Law of Moses as to the use of this oil but in the New Testament there is very little mention or use of oil. The disciples use oil on the sick (Mark 6:13) and James, in his letter, advises its use on the sick too (James 5:14). God is said to use oil on Jesus in the letter to the Hebrews,

“Your throne, O God, is forever and ever,
and the righteous sceptre is the sceptre of your kingdom.
You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness;
therefore God, your God, has anointed you
with the oil of gladness beyond your companions.” (Hebrews 1:8-9)

My understanding, having read both Scripture and Church History is that anointing oil is to be used on people who are to be set apart; that is why we do it at baptism, confirmation and ordination. The use of oil in the ministry of healing and preparation for death is to set the sick person under the complete care of God. The use of oil in healing ministry is to be done cautiously due to an overuse and, therefore, belittling of its symbolic significance.

James, in his letter, is clear that prayer for the sick is what will save them but he does encourage anointing. So which is it?

I would want to say that the use of anointing oil is symbolic of the complete handing over of a patient to the mercy of God. This maintains an honouring of medical professions and the human intervention on diseases. We can pray whilst attempting human medical support and God will honour that but there comes a time in illness when doctors cannot do anymore. This is, of course, a particularly sensitive issue at the moment and I will not repeat my view on the Assisted Dying Bill. It is at this time of the end of medical support that anointing is to be done. This could be done when the patient decides to no longer receive medication or at the point the doctors no longer offer any help.

Anointing becomes the physical ritual that marks the end of looking to humans for help and the naming of our full trust in God to act in this situation. This is not to say that we do not trust God when we seek human support, God uses humans in his work, but there comes a time when God must work the impossible; this, in the case of illness, is either to heal miraculously or to guide a person into the rest of death. I still believe that only God can do that leading and if we humans attempt to take that control we overstep ourselves and it is called murder/suicide.

if we look at St. Benedict’s thoughts on discipline then this final removal of a brother from the monastery is a death of one kind. This should be the absolute last resort and must be done with the greatest revelation of the wisdom of God. It should not be done lightly or without the handing over of the situation totally to God. The burden of responsibility placed upon the abbot cannot be overstated and the pastoral sensitivity in these cases is paramount.

If we take the analogy of choice in death a little further here, then I would suggest that it is not the choice of the brother or the abbot to break this bond between them but the choice of God and there must be that time of waiting for God to act in the situation. This time cannot be rushed and a great deal of listening must be done. A service where the brother is anointed would be an appropriate symbolic act and we wait, in the midst of that suffering, for the hope of God to be revealed.

Reflection

In all moments of reconciliation there needs to be a deliberate stepping into the mysterious, miraculous hope of God. Without this submission to transcendence real reconciliation, in my mind, cannot be achieved. It is a step of faith into the unknown which, from our side, is always into darkness. Hope and light will be found if two things are present; God’s mercy and care as well as the choice of the conflicting party. The mercy of God is trustworthy and true and can be relied upon. The free choice to participate from our opposition is more tricky. More often than not it requires us to submit anyway as a sign of our desire to be in relationship with them. This is a tough task and we resist it more often than not.

I want to pray for the big conflicts currently being played out in the world today. I pray for both Israelis and Palestinians that they would cease the cycle of violence. I pray for ISIS and the Christians fleeing Mosul that they would succumb to the peace and love of God. I pray for Russia and Ukraine that they would know the mercy and care of God and enter into the beautiful dance of community and peace.

Come, Lord Jesus

Reconciliation Is Not Sitting On The Fence

I rarely write a script for my sermons but due to the contentious issues raised during this one I felt I needed to. Many people have asked to see a copy and so I publish it here in full.

The reading for the day was Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
(It also is inspired by the epistle as well: Romans 8:12-25)


This week has seen several momentous debates take place. It started with the Church of England’s General Synod discussing the issue of allowing women to become bishops and finished with the House of Lord’s debating the controversial ‘Assisted Dying Bill’. It has been a week of heated opinions and difficult conflict. To add to these there’s also been renewed conversation around the Israel/Palestine conflict to manoeuvre. All in all it could have left many of us feeling overwhelmed and confused.

Which side do I stand on?

How do I know what is right and wrong?

Who can I trust?

I wouldn’t blame anyone for just keeping your head down and not engaging because it’s tiring, isn’t it?

PrintWhen I was at school we often staged debates on moral and ethical issues. These debates were put on to help us to develop our persuasive writing technique and for this reason I was always quite good. You see, to succeed in a debate you must defeat your opponent’s argument and not, necessarily, with facts. Most of the time they were won by playing with language. If you can bring into question the use of a word you can subtle destabilise any argument.

The truth is language is complicated and the english language is so steeped in history that it is one of the hardest to fully grasp and therefore easiest to manipulate. The meaning of words have been adapted so many times through the centuries that the original meaning doesn’t usually match its common usage. Debates end up being caught in details over language (or semantics). The game in debates is to attack weakness of understanding of words until you judge the right time to play the ‘simplify’ card. A debater will suddenly grab the confused and tired mood of the crowd and state the thought now running through most listeners heads:

“We can spend all day discussing semantics but at the end of the day this is all about people and all people need is…compassion. Compassion is not allowing suffering, therefore, assisted dying is the right thing to do”

No one will have the energy to argue the definition of compassion and it sounds plausible enough and, let’s be honest, we don’t have time to debate this anymore… To no one’s surprise, therefore, these staged debates always ended in a stalemate.

To be honest many of us don’t care as much about somethings as other people and so debates are often won by the most energetic arguers. To persuade others is more of a marathon of campaigning, slowly wearing opponents out. As victims of these campaigns it’s easy to tire and to give in rather than try and stand and engage.

Take the issue over Israel and Palestine for a moment:

israel-palestine-gaza-390x285Who has the right to the land of Gaza and the West Bank? We could start by going into all the history and legalities over this issue. The use of words such as ownership can then be brought into question. Historical facts could then be muddied by interpretation of events and phrasings and then there’s the insurmountable obstacle of personal stories and the tangled web of historical violence from both sides.

Who started it? What were the real motives behind each attack? Who are the secret players behind the scenes, the hidden investors? We could easily end up just throwing your hands in the air and saying,

“I don’t know.”

It’s in this tired, apathetic position that you are a prime target for lobbyists with an agenda to come alongside you and gently and nicely persuade you to just subtly ‘understand’ their point of view. They say,

“I know, it’s complicated, right. All you need to know is… Israel are seeking complete control of their ‘Promised Land’”

or

“You just need to realise that… there was never a state of Palestine in the first place.”

The work of reconciliation, of bringing people into true understanding and real peace, is hard. In fact, I’d go as far as to say, it is humanly impossible.

In those school room debates the problem was that the point of the exercise was not to discover the truth but to win an argument at any cost. Success was judged not by the right outcome being found but a majority of people agreeing with you at the end. You didn’t have to be right; you just needed to be popular. I was always good at standing up, observing the room, and re-phrasing the emotions; twisting them and manoeuvring them to sound very similar to my motion and, therefore, encourage them to feel like I was speaking for them; I was a born politician. This, I soon realised, was a very useful tool in life. I could get what I wanted!

I discovered, however, that getting what I want isn’t always the best thing. I could manipulate anything except the truth. I didn’t know what was good for me, I still don’t. I don’t always know what is right. I had intelligence but not wisdom. The poverty of wisdom was always my (and I suspect all of our) undoing and I soon realised that building my life on intelligent manipulation of facts was like building a house on sand and it soon began to crumble and harm me. I had made decisions based on what I wanted. I had made my bed and now I slept in it. It was then, I was convicted of my lack of wisdom and found my need for God, the source of real wisdom.

The problem is I still have to wrestle with how much I argue about anything, particularly issues of faith, knowing that I have the ability and the sinful desire to ‘win’ at any cost. I am acutely aware of my own personal need for wisdom over and above intelligence and rhetoric.

Whilst on holiday I was enticed into a debate with a fellow traveller on the coach tour. The issues being debated were wide and various; the existence of God, matters of ethics, political discourse. It was tiring. I landed a few fine tuned points which won ground but ultimately it was a thoroughly unsatisfying encounter. Why? Because in the end both parties, him and me, were unwilling to listen. We didn’t seek wisdom, we sought success.

295_Conflict_4Winning arguments is easy if you can just wear down your opponent and the easiest way to do that is keep moving the goal posts; re-define the terms of the argument until it gets too complicated and they get confused and worn out. You don’t need truth to do this; all you need is stamina and intelligence.

It is easy to look at the world with all the complicated issues brought out by relationships and be overwhelmed and confused. The instinctive position at this point is to succumb to the ‘live and let live’ view or the “there is no ‘right’ answer”. This is problematic when it comes to creating laws, governance and guidance as to how we live together. This approach only ends with lots of people doing what they like trying not to hurt others which ultimately won’t happen as we need to interact with each other; our personal desires will always conflict with someone else’s. The only way we can all be happy and not upset others is by not living together.

So how then do we live together?

Wisdom.

And how do we gain wisdom?

I want to suggest it’s ‘time’ and despite what many in our culture and society believe, we know we have time. God is a god of eternity. He is timeless, far above our concept of it. He holds all things in his everlasting existence. We proclaim that His kingdom will have no end. This means we have time; time to stop, time to listen, time to pray and invite God to work, time to wait for God to emerge and reveal Himself the source of wisdom.

Impatience and urgency are dangerous when making decisions. Yes, there’s a need for pragmatic decisiveness but should only be done in God’s timing.

Here’s where the General Synod has succeeded this week and where the House of Lord’s failed.

Members of the Church of England's Synod join in morning prayersIn November 2012 General Synod’s motion to vote female bishops failed, only just but enough. What was clear back then was that the debate had been established on the principle that there was an ‘us’ vs. ‘them’. The aim was not to discover wisdom but to ‘win’ at any cost. Both parties on the extremes didn’t seem to care how they would win just as long as they did. This week, however, the tone of the debate was not on winning points and persuasion but a genuine, heartfelt desire to seek wisdom and to trust one another. The debate stopped being about party politics but more about seeking genuine peace and wisdom only found in the Spirit of God.

At Friargate Theatre back in May there was an evening entitled ‘The Stones Cry Out’ where two men from the Holy Land came and shared their stories. One was a Palestinian the other Israeli. Both men had lost daughters in the conflict and now they were travelling around together witnessing to the power of their relationship across the great divide.

The Palestinian father suggested the true route to peace is not to be pro-Israel or pro-Palestine but to be pro-peace. In order for real reconciliation and peace one must hold both parties in critical tension. To commit to both in equality and to be pro both and, at the same time, pro neither. This is not sitting on the fence! The problem with sitting on the fence is that the fence still exists. Real reconciliation is destroying the fence and stretching across to both sides.

berlin19-1To dismantle such a fence of division takes time, building trust and relationship something sadly lacking in our politics in this country. My very public critique of the Same Sex Marriage Bill was not based on some personal, moral judgement on homosexuality but on the way a decision was being sought. It was rushed. The lobbyists pressured opponents with the supposed lack of time and bullied people into making a response; to choose a side of the fence. Rather than taking the fences down they were happy to keep them there. People were forced off the fence onto one side or the other and it was all done by the manipulation of language. The same is being done with The Assisted Dying Bill.

When Lord Falconer was asked to give people time to engage and for a thorough exploration and facilitated discussion to take place he said there was no time. We need to make the decision now.

Why? Because he is afraid. He is afraid to wait. He is afraid of the suffering. He is afraid of what he might find when he stops and listens to the secrets of his heart. I sympathise with those who can see no hope in the future and want to take control of the confusion that surrounds them but the correct Christian response is to witness to our trust in the miraculous hope of God to bring peace and comfort. When all you have to look forward to is meaningless abyss then suicide may well feel like the best option; why wait?

We wait because, through the lens of Christ’s gospel we have lots to wait for.

Our gospel reading today calls us to deliberately and intentionally challenge our instinctive desire to act decisively ‘now’ to separate and divide; to judge ‘now’. God has time and so do we. God’s Kingdom will outlive every other lobbying group, political ideology and revolution. We are to look to Him for our wisdom not some human campaigner. This will mean we must exist in the painful complications of difference but it is in this field we call life that we grow. We live in peace when we accept God’s rhythm, God’s timing. Seeking relationships over and above position and power.

Peace is only achievable when we stop and let God work. To wait, often uncomfortably, in hope. This will often feel as if nothing will ever change, how it is is how it always will be but God waits for us to invite Him in and we should wait for Him to work. So let’s pray in God’s eternity for His hope and wait for His peace to rule.

 

Chapter 21: the deans of the monastery

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In a large community respectable and devout brothers should be chosen and designated deans.

Why Deaneries?

The term ‘dean’ comes from the Latin ‘decanus’ which meant ‘leader of ten’. It was a Roman military term which was adopted by Benedict and other monastic orders as role within a community. Deans were appointed to assist the Abbot in the oversight of monks. In large communities with a number of members it would be a challenging, if not impossible, task for a single Abbot to know each of the members to the degree needed to advise, direct and discipline each one in spiritual formation. It is pragmatism that births this role but I am aware of the importance, particularly after the week I have had.

It is not right to go into the details of what happened and what was said but by the end of last week, after several conversations and encounters I was bruised. I had faced several meetings in which I felt singled out and accused based on assumptions and mis-interpretations of who I am and what I want. My actions and words were taken and misread. I was faced with words like ‘aggressive’, ‘threatening’ and ‘disruptive’. These words bite and in repeated experiences through the week I felt like people who I thought knew me were intervening to save me from ‘causing any more damage’. I needed to be stopped.

This was difficult not least because of the shock and surprise. There was no indication in any of these encounters that I was doing anything wrong. After the second or third meeting one must (if they hadn’t already) begin to ask themselves where these impressions are coming from. I began asking that question after the first one so keen am I to learn and grow.

By the end of the week and after lots of reflection, pray and discernment (both alone and with others) I found myself realising that I need to be known. We all need to be known. What I mean by that is not just people who know what we want them to know, like the identities we build on social media, but know us beyond that, know us deeper than we sometimes know ourselves. In this kind of relationship you are held with great care and are watched over by those who know what you’re capable of; good and bad. This knowledge is the kind that God has of us and, as the Psalmist writes,

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it. (Psalm 139:6)

This is where the importance of a monastic-like community comes into the picture for me. I have found, after all that happened last week, a stronger and deeper call to live in an intentional committed community that can hold and support me as God develops and forms me. In these places of vulnerability I find that I am more useful to God in serving others because I know his protection and care through other people.

I have realised afresh this sense of isolation in ordained ministry and I don’t think it’s healthy. In the parish system with the model which was has been throughout the 20th century and continues today the minister is expected to be both part of and yet distant from a community whom he/she serves. There is a necessity, in order to survive, to have a public/private divide.

Don’t be friends with your parishioners!

I have never liked this aspect of public ministry and I have seen and experienced the pain and rupturing that this causes people. It makes me sick in the stomach to stand up the front of a gathering and to be forced, out of fear, to be smiles. It is a lie and it is not what people want or need.

The church does itself a devastating disservice when the ministers and pastors are taught to keep their doubts, their formations, their pain and struggles hidden out of fear that people may lose respect for them.

If those in a community really knew who I was then they’d realise I’m no different from them…

I’d love to quote Henri Nouwen from his famous book ‘The Wounded Healer’ but there are so many that I cannot choose. That book opens up the portrayal of a future leader who is able to articulate his own roundedness to invite people to face up and deal with the inner confusion of the human condition. Leaders are not there to promote ideas but to encourage people to share lives. How can this be done when the leaders/ministers feel isolated and lonely and unable to speak out their experience of this.

This is where I see the potential of deaneries.

Deaneries in the Church of England have varied success and failures but it is a common problem that they have very little purpose. Below the Deanery Synod is the PCC a singular local meeting of members of one congregation. Above the Deanery Synod is the Diocesan Synod a collection of representatives from the multiple congregations to meet and discuss things with a bishop and his staff. The Deanery Synod is an added level which has little purpose except to vet items from a singular congregation to the larger multiple meeting of the whole Diocese.

The monastic view of ‘deaneries’ is, in my reading of it, based on the need for monks to be known. Deaneries play a part in ministers/leaders (lay and ordained) being known. Deans, therefore, take on the role of knowing them, praying for them, advising them and disciplining them. When that function is taken away and they no longer are encouraged by the ‘abbot’ (bishop) then what are they for?

Reflection

I see great potential in deaneries but, as they are, they are purposeless. To see the church grow and find a deeper faith and spirituality we need to seriously reflect and shift the structures so that they are used for the furtherance of that goal. Whilst we keep this historic structure as it is without a clearly defined role then the more we will fumble about in the dark. I am grateful for the deep questions and exploration of my Rural Dean and Deanery Synod Standing Committee but they have a thankless task whilst people remain cynical, tired and disappointed by experience and would rather just close it down than breathe new life into it.

I offer this reflection not with a definite vision but with the hope of re-discovering values. What if there was a place for ministers and leaders, representatives who take on responsibility of leading congregations to be known, to speak honestly and to be supported. What if the Rural Deans were released and encouraged to have the capability of ‘sharing the abbot’s responsibilities’ rather than just plugging the gaps. What if power and authority was given to deaneries to be a place where the leaders (lay and ordained) of a particular collection of churches come together to pray and to be known. What if we begin to see ministry based not on individual autonomous parishes but in deaneries? What if ordained ministers were placed to work in a large team, under the direction of a dean, to serve the people of those parishes?

Lord of the Church, we are struggling to adapt to the changing landscape and to see where you are leading us. We thank you that you have already faced these issues countless times before and it is from the monastic tradition in the past that you have re-ignited faith in this land. I pray for Rural and Area Deans and pray that they may be encouraged and released to lead your Church. Grant unto us all wisdom and discernment as to how to move forward. I pray also for all who are burnt out and tired, isolated and lonely in leadership. I stand with them and weep. Surround them with people who know them who can strengthen them by your Spirit.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 20: reverence in prayer

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If we wish to ask a favour of those who hold temporal power, we dare not do so except with humility and respect.

How do we pray?

At the end of this section on the Divine Office it is interesting that St. Benedict decides to end on the topic of humility. The chapter before this section was also about humility. It seems this is of the deepest importance to St. Benedict and is at the very heart of the Rule for community life. It has been this revisiting that has made me re-read my reflections on humility.

I still struggle with this. I wrestle in my inner life trying to work it out and allowing God to shape me free from my resistance. I am increasingly aware that one cannot do this work in isolation; one always needs a community around them to help in the practice of humility. This community must, together, commit to the work of supporting and holding one another as each one enters into the process of going deeper with God.

St. Benedict uses the experience of being in the present of humans who hold significant power and how, when we are with them, we are aware of our our own power (or lack of it). We naturally compare ourselves with one another and this is most definite when the contrast is large. It is only when the difference between us and others is clear that we are forced to acknowledge it to ourselves. It is in these times we know where we stand in the ‘pecking order’.

At the end of this week I will visit Archbishop John Sentamu of York. He has recently taken on the role as Episcopal oversight of the Deanery of York of which I am a part. He now is my bishop to whom I go to for clergy review, discipline and support. I have always really appreciated ++Sentamu’s ministry and we have shared many good conversations together. He ordained me both as a deacon and a priest and we have served together on the Step Forward conference run each year at Bishopthorpe Palace.

Despite having shared some social time together, as well as more formal occasions, I am always deeply aware of the weight of his presence and his authority. I may have questions or doubts as to how he uses that power but nonetheless I am acutely aware of his abilities to wield it both for good and (potentially) for bad. When we talk I rarely talk at great length due, in the most part, to my awareness of lack of knowledge and authority on subjects. On both legal, spiritual, theological and ethical matters ++Sentamu has more experience and expertise than I and should bow out of any debate. I did try once to argue that St. Aidan was to be given more credit than St. Paulinus and St. Augustine for the evangelisation of England… I tried but I think I failed!

This respect, forced or deserved, that I feel in the presence of ++Sentamu is not debilitating nor destructive of a relationship. As well as feeling inferior I also feel respected and cared for by him. My respect for him as a person is, I hope, mutual. I know he is interested in me and my ministry. I think he wants to see me flourish and wants to support me. I am listened to by him and, as much as he can, he looks out for me and holds me in some esteem. I am thankful for this relationship and thank God for our partnership in the Gospel.

St. Benedict uses this experience to portray our relationship with God. God is much more worthy of respect and awe than ++Sentamu. God alone is to be feared but, along with this fear there is also a deep sense of the safety and love God has for us, his children. When we go into his presence in pray we are to balance these emotions.

Some of us err, too much on the side of familial and breeze into God’s presence with conversation and chit chat. There’s nothing wrong with that. God loves to speak to us and have relationship with us but we should never take such relationship for granted. At times a colloquial relationship with God can lead to forgetting the heavy price paid for such a relationship which we should always be mindful of and thankful for. This awareness of the weighty grace shown to us should lead us into a deep awe and amazement at what he has done in order to have the conversation you so easily can have with him.

Others, however, err on the side of fear and trembling and see God so high and lofty above us that he remains distant from us with little affection between us. Christianity is unique in its understanding of God as, Abba Father. Jesus revealed a desire of God to be intimately involved in our lives like a good father is. Most religions see God as Creator and all powerful, and rightly so, but they miss out on that close and caring father image. Christians, following the example of Christ, emphasise this fatherly image because God has shown he cares for us by his death and resurrection.

God, in the Bible, is described as both a Lion and a Lamb. He is a lion because he is fierce and dangerous, ferocious. He is also known as a lamb, led to the slaughter, pastoral and innocent. The lion image creates in us a caution; no one would walk into a lion’s cage free from fear and respect but it would take something particularly peculiar for someone to be afraid of a lamb. Our approach to prayer and our relationship with God should be as C.S. Lewis describes it in his Narnia series. When the children enter Narnia for the first time, Aslan, the God figure in the series, is described by Mr and Mrs Beaver. Lucy asks whether Aslan is safe,

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.

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The different kinds of prayers

I am aware of the different types of prayer that we participate in and yet we only use one word for them all. We say prayers in church services, and at Divine Offices. We pray alone, in pairs and in small groups. We pray out loud and in silence. We pray requests to God. We pray for discernment. We listen. We talk. We pray out of duty and we pray out of need. Contemplation is prayer just as much as extemporary, charismatic prayers. All of these have something different about them but they’re all called ‘prayer’.

It is wrong to suggest one is superior to another but equally it would be wrong to not use one type by telling ourselves they are all the same. To say, “I don’t pray out loud because it’s just the same as praying in silence.” leads you away from praying with others and sharing the public side of our faith; it would be like saying, “I don’t talk to my friend when other people are in the room.” It’s weird! In this chapter, St. Benedict is speaking specifically about prayers in the Divine Office. Philip Lawrence, OSB, Abbot of Christ in the Desert, suggests,

The admonition on short prayer in community comes from the way in which our ancestors looked at prayer. Quite often the saying of prayers was seen as distinct from the prayer itself. After saying a prayer, then one prayed in the heart and this was considered “prayer.” So in some of the early traditions, after each Psalm there was a short period for this spontaneous cry from the heart to the Lord. It is this type of prayer that must be kept short and pure–and not prolonged because it really cannot be prolonged. Attempts to prolong such prayer are usually just show and not reality. (Philip Lawrence, “Chapter 20: Reverence in Prayer”, Benedictine Abbey of Christ in the Desert, May 20 2014, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/890.html)

Reflection

I continue to reflect on the place of prayer in communities. I’d be interested to know if research has been done on how the frequency and nature of prayer changes a communities experience and understanding of God. I am currently part of two particular communities with very different views on prayer. One, my parish church, has a broad understanding of prayer and each member seems to have a different view on what it is and how it should be done. This emphasis is not bad and, as a minister and teacher in the community, it is part of my role to encourage people to develop their prayer life to all the different types of prayer. The other community is Burning Fences which used to read a liturgy from Celtic Daily Prayer from the Northumbria Community, at the end of our weekly gathering and now finds another kind of prayer. It was noted during a discussion last week that the inclusion of prayer has slowly morphed into a reflection on spirituality rather than a direct prayer. The place of prayer, i.e. talking directly to God, in Burning Fences is an interesting topic which we will need to raise as we move forward.

Abba Father, Glorious and Majestic Creator of the cosmos, I thank you for being my lion, defending me from foes and being able to fight for me the powers that seek to oppress me. I thank you also for being the lamb that was slain. I thank you that I can meet you in the Temple, where you sit on a throne high and lifted up and that I can meet you in the street, in the face of the poor and down cast, that I know you close by in my home and work.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 19: how the Office should be performed

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We believe that God is everywhere, and the Lord sees both good and evil in all places.

Why go to church?

As we come into land on the specific matters of prayer in a monastic community, like that of the previous section on ‘matters of authority’ (chapter 1 – 7), St. Benedict ends on an idealistic vision; a goal to aim for. He begins this picture by affirming

God is everywhere.

He does this to acknowledge that, yes, we don’t have to go to a particular place with a particular group of people to pray. You, as an individual, can pray in any place at any time but there is a time and place to specifically go to where his presence is particularly felt. This reminds me of words from Common Worship’s Eucharistic Prayer A which says,

It is indeed right, it is our duty and our joy, at all times and in all places to give you thanks and praise, holy Father, heavenly King, almighty and eternal God, through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord.

It does not take long for St. Benedict to highlight an often forgotten aspect of this argument; that, just as you can be in contact with God at any time and in any place you wish, so can he be with you seeing

…both good and evil in all places.

It is surprisingly frequent that I hear people proclaim their belief that you don’t need to go to church to be a Christian. Although I agree with that statement the assumption is not correct. What the person often means (you discover after some further questions) is that to be Christian is a matter of belief alone, ascribing to some statements as true or false or ‘hedging your bets’. To go to Church is seen as an unnecessary waste of time when you’ve already signed to say you are willing to be identified and ‘protected’ as a Christian (until it gets tough). The people I hear this from often cite the truth that God is everywhere and they can pray (if they want to) wherever they are. Indeed many people admit they pray, i.e. they say some words and, as much as they can tell, if God does exist, they think he hears and will act on their behalf.

What these people don’t always care to realise is that those moments when they are not aware of God, when they don’t consider God’s presence with them, God is still everywhere and he ‘sees both good and evil in all places.’ God can become an agent who is commanded to turn up when we ring our prayer bell and depart when we do not require his services. What this means is, that if you want to take seriously the belief that God is everywhere and this means you don’t have to go to church to be a Christian then you must also admit that God is part of every aspect of your life. Being a Christian is not about going to a particular location at a set time but it is about a genuine relationship; a relationship that is two way.

What makes someone a Christian is an active desire to be continually shaped into the likeness of Christ. We do this by reading Scripture and seeing the character of God, perfectly revealed in the person of Jesus in the Gospels. We do this by gathering with other people who are desiring the same change into their lives and discerning together what it means and looks like to be like Jesus. Church then becomes not a place you have to go to but a place where Christians gather to share, to be encouraged, to see Christ in other people and to re-commit themselves to the task of transformation. It is a hospital where the continual healing of our lives can be done in a safe space. We also get shaped into the likeness of Jesus by prayer. Prayer, in this instance, is about inviting God to enter into your life and begin the work of transformation and change. Prayer is the way we open up the wounds of our life to God who can heal us and set us free.

Change is always painful because there is some loss involved. Change can be exciting as well as new things begin to emerge but, as St. Paul says in Romans,

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:22-23)

Prayer is a two-way relationship one where we are invited to speak and share, to cry out for change, but it is where God is invited, by us, to speak and share, to cry out for change, often starting in our own lives. When prayer is only seen as a formal request to an unknown agent who delivers what we order then it falls and rarely satisfies. Prayer is about relationship and that is why it is harder than most people think because prayer asks something of us; it invites us to change and to lose something, an addiction to something that distracts or comforts us apart from God. We don’t care to admit it but we love the chains that holds us and imprison us (see ‘Lovers of Chains‘ post). We are all addicts to something and need healing and liberation. We rarely ask for it because the process is tough and the thought of letting that thing we deify, we hold up as our God, to go is inconceivable.
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Blind to Addiction

It is in R Kelly’s questionable song that he says,

My mind is telling me no but my body my body’s telling me yes

We are torn, as human beings, between that which we might consider noble and that which is more ‘instinctive’. Our conscience is trained to know what is right but our issue, increasingly, in our culture is that there is less shared ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. We do, however, continue to talk as if there is but everything is up for questions as authority is moved and changes. The difference between that which is ‘noble’ and that which is ‘instinctive’ is about that which raises us out of purely materialistic desires, the tangible and the animalistic into a realm of rationality and consciousness. These should be united but they are not always so.

We are creatures that can justify action. There is a wealth of opinion and countless beliefs we can articulate and ascribe to and any action can be explained. We are also in a culture of precedent so if someone else has done it then it is possible for someone else to do it too. This means when barriers are pushed and moved, they are irrevocably pushed and moved. We hope that our beliefs will inform our action but I think the other way is more true; our need to justify, to ourselves as well as to others, our actions shape our beliefs (if I did x I must believe y).

You will see this insight when you live with an addict. Their dependency on a particular substance is rationally justified. It is the extreme cases of alcohol and drugs that we are more aware of it but this justification that comes out of the mouth of those addicts comes out of all our mouths at some point. We may phrase it differently but it is the same,

I can’t help myself.

I need that person to feel secure.

Surely if this makes me happy it’s not wrong.

We justify to ourselves why we need the props and crutches in our lives and religion can be one of them. Having crutches is not necessarily a problem; if you have a broken leg it is helpful for a time of healing but the aim is to let go of the crutch and be free. Religion is a crutch while we heal, the aim is to be free.

My brother in law gave an image, which I find helpful. He was talking about the Law of Moses as St. Paul talks about in Romans. He sees the Law of Moses as a cast which you place over a broken part of our body; the cast does not heal the break but it protects it while it heals. The healing comes from the Spirit. The same is true, I think, of crutches. What is important is not the crutch but the healing.

The problem is we have an odd relationship with crutches. The analogy breaks down after a while so maybe it would be easier to talk about pain-killers. These are helpful and help us live with illness and pain but they can also become something we rely on and therefore blind us from our awareness of the need to heal. The initial problem may disappear but we don’t know and we become addicted to the pain-killers and we justify it to ourselves that we believe we still need them.

Reflection

St. Benedict ends this chapter with an interesting sentence,

Let us rise in chanting that our hearts and voices harmonise.

The aim in prayer is that our hearts and voices harmonise; so what we say is what’s in our heart but also what’s in our hearts is what we say. This extends, I think, to our actions too.
To be Christian is not about going to Church, about saying the right things, but is it is about allowing and inviting God into your lives to transform you into the likeness of Jesus. To be like Jesus is to have your voice and heart harmonised and that your heart is instinctively noble; that which you do without thinking is pure and Godly. We don’t perform Jesus but we become Jesus. We know what Jesus is really like by Scripture, by other Christians and saints and by prayer and the work of Holy Spirit through that relationship. Our authority then must be on three things: Scripture, Tradition and Reason.

Heavenly Father, you are indeed everywhere, you are with us at all times and in all places and you stand at the door to our lives and knock. You never force yourself in but you are wanting to be in our lives to make all things new. I’m sorry for the times that I have sent you back out of the door to hide parts of my life from you. I lie to myself and train myself to believe that you are in it all and you bless all my thoughts and actions but I know that that isn’t true because I’m not yet like your Son, Jesus.

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 18: psalms – order to be chanted

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Monks who chant less than the entire Psalter, with canticles, each week are slothful in their service to God.

How much should I be praying?

For ten weeks now I have been praying and meditating on the place and structure of prayer in the life of a monastic community. During this time I have been asking myself, whether it has been communicated on this journal or not, what place does prayer take in my life? The answer has often been: I must try harder. This is a common response to prayer and Bible reading to many Christians, ordained, lay, within religious orders or not. It is easy to compare ourselves to others or to our perception to others or , even worse, to an impossible ideal. There’s a proverb within the church which says,

Prayer is like sex. Most people lie about how much they’re doing it and how well it is going.

It is easy to compare ourselves to others and to beat ourselves up on how lazy and difficult we find prayer, reading the Bible, service to the poor, etc. We do it instinctively. If it’s not the person sat next to you in church or your own priest or lay workers then there’s a renowned saint (for me it’s people like Shane Claiborne!) who we project onto heavenly virtues and exult them to ‘super-Christian’. I am reminded of Jesus’ last exchange with Peter in John’s gospel,

Peter turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them; he was the one who had reclined next to Jesus at the supper and had said, “Lord, who is it that is going to betray you?” When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, “Lord, what about him?” Jesus said to him, “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? Follow me!” (John 21:20-22)

What is that to you?

Those words should ring in our ears when we find ourselves falling into a self-destructive cycle of despair. When you find yourself saying,

I should be reading the Bible as much as [insert name of idealised version of a fellow Christian here].

Or,

I wish I had their prayer life. They’re always praying.

Having said that we must be careful also to be realistic with our time. Most of us could prioritise prayer and Bible reading better but that’s the truth of priorities; you prioritise what you prioritise. We need to firstly acknowledge what we do prioritise and why. What is it that you consider more important than prayer? What do you turn to before you turn to prayer or reading the Bible? Why does this, or ‘these’, things take precedent? Are they easier? Are they more enjoyable?

For me, it’s TV, social media and work.

I justify TV because it’s important to rest and wind down after work. I justify social media because it’s important for me to know what’s going on in the lives of my friends, family and communities. I justify work because I’ve been called to it by God and people are relying on me to support them in their lives. But that’s all these priorities are; justifications. On their own and in isolation there’s nothing wrong with these activities and, yes, they need to be done and be a part of a balanced life but the reality is I minimise my time in prayer and reading the Bible in favour of doing those three things.

Added to that I lie to myself about my prayer life. I find myself saying,

I pray while I…(e.g. look at my Twitter stream/Facebook wall).

At times I do but that is not always a deliberate thing, a dedicated time set aside to speak with God. Most of the time it’s a one way dictation of things He has to do for me. The same is true for reading the Bible; I say,

I read the Bible today while I prepared for… (e.g. a sermon).

That’s not the kind of reading that feeds the soul; that’s work. I read it with a particular energy; I’m listening for that teaching point, that image which will help people to connect with the passage. I don’t always find myself asking those personal questions like,

What is God saying to me in this?

Don’t get me wrong, I do ok. At morning and evening prayer (and at times, midday prayer) I engage with Scripture on that level and I pray for a dedicated time but even these times are dry and distracted. These times are dedicated and disciplined for the very reality, for me, that I just won’t ensure I am praying as much as I should. This is not about comparing with those dedicated intercessors and pray-ers in the Body of Christ but a basic level for any disciple to remain rooted in God.

I’d suggest to ‘normal’, working (paid and unpaid) Christians engaging in the world, that at least one regular time of prayer a day is minimum. That time of prayer, what ever form it takes, should be undistracted and deliberate for a minimum of fifteen minutes. This is not an excessive amount of time. Consider how long it takes to drink a cup of tea? When you start to consider a regular time when, presently, you are doing nothing, you will begin to realise how much you fill your days with all manner of tasks without even considering the time you dedicate to it. I catch myself on a regular basis, unconsciously walking upstairs into my office and turning on the computer without knowing why. Habit and routine take over and I tell myself I’m busy and I create work for myself. It’s easy to do.

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Rhythms of prayer

We who live in the world all need to acknowledge that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to dedicate the kind of time that a Benedictine community spends in prayer. If we add up the typical time spent in prayer for such a community it would be about 3 1/2 hours in Divine Office/communal set prayers then an hour of prayerful reading of Scripture and half an hour silent personal prayer we can see that a monk should be praying 5 hours a day. Be careful not to start comparing yourself and beating yourself up about how ‘lazy’ you are! Remember that that 5 hours is split up and goes into the night but even that would have a big impact on our energy levels if we are also trying to hold down a full time, or even part time job, possibly a family and commitments to a Church community.

For a New Monastic community who have to balance the everyday life of family and employment with prayer and service, a more realistic rhythm of prayer should be established. This will be different for each expression and for the lives of those involved in such communities but it will require, like that of St. Benedict’s, a framework which will hold the community accountable; a framework and guidance as to how much is possible and helpful for prayer to be a priority.

As I said, I find a set time time in the morning, before I start work, and one in the evening just as people are finishing their work. My work often stretches into the evening so that evening prayer is praying that the work of many in my communities will bear fruit for God’s Kingdom. A commonality between such ‘monastic’ communities is an established morning prayer either said at the same time by all the members and, if possible, in the same place. Some have a Night Prayer others an evening, some have midday prayers but each is flexible to help and guide the community to have prayer woven into the routine.

After about five years of a rhythm of prayer (which has changed and evolved) I feel odd when I am not praying at 8.30am a set Office (be that Common Worship or Celtic Daily Prayer). My wife knows that at 5.30pm I will be praying and we have set dinner time around that fact. I schedule meetings around this time and say to people who ‘need’ me,

I’m sorry I have a meeting then.

On occasions I need to adapt and move stuff but that must be done prayerfully and with consideration.

Starting a day with set prayers, for me who is not a morning person, is useful as I don’t need to be ‘up for it’. I turn up and I am quiet with god. I find I repeat the same quiet prayer before I begin,

Oh Lord, I am so tired, give me strength for today.

I then use this time to go through my day and as I remember all the things I have planned I invite God into them.

Lord, will you be with me as I meet with…

Lord, what is it that you want me to say to…

Lord, help me face this difficult challenge.

I find, as I perform the tasks of the day I remember my prayer that morning and repeat it before I begin, as I do it and after it is done. These are not dedicated times of prayer just quick short repetitions remembering God with me as I go about my business.

Reflection

This part of my blog has slipped at times from what I had intended it to be. I had wanted this section to be a possible practical step I could take to move from theory to action. This week I want to ponder what this rhythm of prayer looks like in community.

In my parish we offer morning and evening prayer for anyone. Both times are not easy for people to make. There are many reasons why people can’t come but I suspect that anytime would be difficult because rhythms of prayer are not understood and challenge people’s priorities. I sit with one or two others at both times. We have a routine and we are flexible when necessary. I would love to build a community that came together each day to dedicate themselves to prayer together.

To do this in a parish would require a dedicated season studying and teaching on the subject and then a focussed discussion on what that prayer would look like for the members of the community there. I don’t think we ask what prayer looks like as the Body of Christ on a daily basis. This challenges our Sunday focussed life together and also what we see our role in society as.

Lord, call your people to yourself each day to hear and receive all we need from you. Take us from our lives and shape us into disciples, placing us back into those lives changed and equipped for the building up of your Kingdom in the places we are sent.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 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.