Religious Life and the Revival of the Church

I came across an excellent blog post today from an Episcopal priest (Fr. Robert Hendrickson) which says what I have been trying to say from the inception of this blog, albeit from a Lutheran perspective. Here are some of the key statements, relating to the renewal of the Church via a reinvigorated diaconate and neo-monastic movement:

First, he explains the issue and the goal: "[T]here are many, many people looking to have their faith be not something apart from the rest of their life or a distraction amidst a panoply of distractions. They are seeking a way for their faith to form their life and for their life to matter in the deepest ways possible.....  It seems to me that we might be entering a cultural moment in which we should consider the Religious life (monastic vocations) and the diaconate as the ideal means to form leaders equipped to engage the realities of contemporary society..... I firmly believe that intentional Religious Communities and a robust Diaconate are key to the rejuvenation of a vibrant Christian presence all across the country. The need is for missionary communities of prayer, service, and sacrificial giving."

Next, Fr. Hendrickson sets forth why a robust religious life is needed for the renewal of the Church: "This work begins with daily prayer and the Sacraments – but the churches that serve as the heart of this kind of disciplined approach to engaging the Holy would not be the final destination but the launching point for those trained and equipped to be the presence of Christ for those they meet and serve. I imagine local Churches serving as a sort of mother ship where people are fed and trained for missionary service...... These deacons would serve at the heart of local communities of those taking religious vows. Whether full-time, professed monastics or part of neo-monastic communities we should also be looking for those in our communities who are yearning for a deeper connection to other faithful people and are longing for their faith to ground their approach to work, relationship, and service. These kinds of communities could then become the heart of congregations longing for connection to the communities around them but fearful or unsure of taking the next step."

And then, he states his conclusion: "Ultimately, it will be these servant-leaders who are creatively making Christ known in the communities around us who will re-center the Church and draw others to come and see."

(The rest of the article can be read here -  http://thesubdeansstall.org/2014/07/16/the-diaconate-and-lay-religious-orders-the-shape-of-future-ministry/)

I agree 100% with Fr. Hendrickson's recommendations.  The perplexing thing for me, as a part of the ELCA, is that I am not quite sure how we can fit those recommendations into our existing paradigm for ministry.  As for the diaconate, our existing diaconal ministries are somewhat jumbled between three different lay orders (Diaconal Ministers, Associates in Ministry, and Deaconesses - I understand that there is a movement afoot to reform this, but I am not sure when this might take place, or what the result will be). But, at least we have an existing diaconal ministry which can be reformed and used to further the revival of the Church. 

As to the religious life, though, as I have long lamented, Lutherans have a long way to go.  Yes, there are some Lutheran religious communities around the world, which I have tried to promote (http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/search/label/Lutheran%20Monastery%20Virtual%20Tour). There are also other movements which offer intriguing possibilities for the restoration of the religious life in American Lutheranism, such as the Order of Lutheran Franciscans (http://www.lutheranfranciscans.org/), but as of yet, these movements are not widely known among rank-and-file Lutherans. 

Those of us in Lutheranism who believe that a renewal of the religious life will be an important part of proclaiming the Gospel in a post-Christendom world are swimming against the tide of nearly 500 years of sentiment which is wary of (if not outright antagonistic to) the religious life.  Unlike Catholics, Orthodox, and Anglicans (at least since the 19th Century Oxford Movement), intentional communities of daily prayer are outside of the framework of reference of what institutional Lutheranism thinks "church" should look like. 

I am often reminded of how many Lutherans are unfamiliar with daily corporate prayer and the religious life when I am on Twitter, where I try to promote those things through my personal account (@PastorJayDenne) and through praying some of the daily offices via @Virtual_Abbey.  While some fellow Lutherans (both clergy and laity) follow and interact with those accounts, sometimes it seems as if I interact more with Catholics, Orthodox, and Anglicans than with Lutherans.  I saw a glaring example of this the other day, when I noticed that at the Virtual Abbey, Archbishop Kurtz (of the Archdiocese of Louisville, and the President of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops) "retweeted" my morning prayers, but I have yet to see any Lutheran bishops follow or respond. (A caveat - my own Synod Bishop has been highly supportive, but I don't see him much on Twitter).

Does this mean that I am tilting at proverbial windmills a la Don Quixote?  Only time (and the Holy Spirit, of course) will tell.  But, I will keep trying, as I firmly believe in what Fr. Hendrickson said:

"We need passionate and powerful advocates for Christ in the communities around us – we need deacons and lay religious equipped for holy living. They can be, in our communities, the kinds of Christians that people never knew existed whose concern is not institutional maintenance or Church membership but is a faith lived so eloquently and authentically that their very being is evangelical.....They could be an inspiration for the congregation’s deepening sense of their own vocation as evangelists and servants." 

Patterns (Monday Morning in the Desert)

As my 44th birthday rolls around next month, the thought has occurred to me that I am almost halfway through the "regular" working years of my life - I finished law school and started practicing law when I was still 24 years old, so assuming that I work until my mid-60s, I have completed approximately half of my work life.

As I look toward the second half of my work life, the patterns that have developed during the first half will shape the future of my vocational path.  In my law practice, I have always preferred resolving disputes through reconciliation as opposed to the lengthy and sometimes soul-killing process of litigation.  I still litigate on behalf of a client when necessary, but upon recognizing the pattern of preferring reconciliation to litigation, I have sought out training in mediation, and have served as a mediator in certain cases.

My life as an ordained pastor (3 1/2 years) is much shorter than my career as a lawyer, but I have been doing it long enough to recognize certain patterns there as well - this blog has documented the development of my thoughts on how to incorporate the Benedictine way into my personal spiritual life, as well as into ministry in the context of a small Lutheran congregation.  The next step on this path will begin this fall, when I enroll in a two-year course on spiritual direction taught at a nearby Benedictine monastery.  

In other words, it took me approximately two decades - half of my work life - to finally figure out what I want to do when I grow up!  

It is through the patterns that have occurred in our lives that we can get a sense of where God is calling us to go.  Many times, we cannot see those patterns in our own lives, so we rely on others to identify those patterns for us.

St. Seraphim of Sarov was a hermit monk who lived in nineteenth century Russia, who had the gift of seeing patterns in the lives of people who sought his counsel.  He had these words to say about discerning God's will for our lives through recognizing those patterns:

"The visible pattern of every single life is of God's choosing.  We only have to become conscious of it, follow it courageously, and see that we don't distort God's intention.  No two leaves on a tree are perfectly alike. Neither are any two lives. Everyone must strive to fill this unique life of his own with a love of God so constant and so great that it flares up into a luminous love of man. Listen, my joy, we... must learn to feel, discern and understand.  This only comes through years of reflecting on good and evil. Then we see things good and bad, in the light of God's wisdom: and then we develop the gift of true discrimination without which no one dare guide others...... Try to see how the pattern behind the events of today is transformed into the pattern behind the events of tomorrow."

(Quoted at p. 51 of "A Simplified Life" by Verena Schiller).

A Vision of Marriage

Recently, I read through the classic book, "For the Life of the World", by Alexander Schmemann.  One passage, regarding marriage, is particularly poignant:

"In movies and magazines the 'icon' of marriage is always a youthful couple.  But once, in the light and warmth of an autumn afternoon, this writer saw on the bench of a public square, in a poor Parisian suburb, an old and poor couple.  They were sitting hand in hand, in silence, enjoying the pale light, the last warmth of the season.  In silence:  all words had been said, all passion exhausted, all storms at peace.  The whole life was behind - yet all of it was now present, in this silence, in this light, in this warmth, in this silent unity of hands.  Present - and ready for eternity, ripe for joy.  This to me remains the vision of marriage, of its heavenly beauty." (p. 90).

Today is the 21st anniversary of the day when God joined my wife and I together in marriage, so we have many more years in front of us before the day when we take our place on that park bench.  But, even now, in the present whirlwind of children, vocations, and activities that define our lives, I hope we can take a little bit of time to sit and hold hands in silence.

.

Freedom (Monday Morning in the Desert)

When I think of what "freedom" means, I usually think of those freedoms guaranteed by the United States Constitution, which I swore to uphold when I was sworn in as an attorney.  Specifically, I think of the freedoms set forth in the Bill of Rights (freedom of speech, religion, assembly, etc.).  But as a Christian, "freedom" has a different meaning.   A monk of Mount Athos, St. Silouan, had this to say about freedom:

"People generally seek freedom in order to do what they like.  But that is not freedom, but the power of sin over you.... True freedom means constant dwelling in God."  (From p. 65 of "St. Silouoan the Athonite" by Archimandrite Sophrony).

In other words, Christian freedom should not lead to a self-absorbed lifestyle, nor a faith which is all about "just me and Jesus".  Christian freedom means that through grace, we have been reconciled with God, and because of that, we have been freed from the captivity of sin to willingly serve God and our neighbors.  Luther summed up the paradoxical nature of Christian freedom when he stated: "A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none.  A Christian is a perfectly dutiful servant of all, subject of all, subject to all."  

Love Alone (Monday Morning in the Desert)

Churches that are descended from the Reformation like to use the word "alone" a lot - "faith alone", "grace alone", "Scripture alone", "Christ alone", and "glory to God alone".  During online discussions about the Reformation, I've seen these five "solas" (Latin word for "alone") critiqued in a sarcastic, yet perceptive fashion: If these things are supposed to be "alone", why are there five of them? 

Well, I'm going to muddy the water further through this morning's quote from a modern day Desert Father, Elder George of Mount Athos, by adding another "alone" - "Love alone".  Elder George said:

"Love all your fellow men, even your enemies.  This is the most basic thing.  Always love not only those who love us, but also those who hate us.  Let us forgive them and love them all even if they have done us the greatest evil; then we are truly children of God.  Then our own sins are also forgiven.... Always preach love.  This is the most basic law of God: love and love alone."

(From p. 189 of "Precious Vessels of the Holy Spirit: The Lives and Counsels of Contemporary Elders of Greece" by Herman Middleton).

Elder George's words are directly related to the words of Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount: "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." (Matthew 5:43-44).  And, of course, Jesus directly invoked love when he answered the lawyer's question regarding which commandment was the greatest: "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’" (Matthew 22:37-39).

Those words seem so simple, but are so hard to follow.  Pray for our enemies? It is much easier to curse them.  Love our enemies? It is much easier to retaliate against them.  Love our neighbor? It is much easier to love ourselves. 

Which message sells better in politics? It is much easier for politicians to stand up in front of a cheering crowd and preach hatred of our enemies rather than love of our enemies.  Sometimes, the language and sacraments of Christianity are distorted in order to do so (http://thefederalist.com/2014/04/27/no-sarah-palin-baptism-isnt-a-good-punchline-for-a-terrorist-joke/).  In what is perhaps the most famous attack ad in history, the word "love" was distorted through its use in a message implying "vote for me, because the other candidate will start a nuclear war" ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDTBnsqxZ3k).

"Love alone" may not be one of the slogans of the Reformation, and it will probably never be a popular political slogan.  But if I were to be given the task of describing the message of Jesus in two words, those might be the two words I would select. 

Holy Week - A Participation, Not an Observance

I'm going to take a temporary break from my "Monday Morning in the Desert" series and offer a meditation  about Holy Week from a modern-day spiritual master: Metropolitan Anthony (Bloom) of Sourozh (1914-2003).  He was not only the Russian Orthodox Bishop of Great Britain and Ireland, but a noted author of several books on prayer and the spiritual life.

Regarding Holy Week, Metropolitan Anthony wrote:

"[W]e are entering Holy Week.  How can we face these events?  I think we must enter into Holy Week not as observers, not reading the passages of Gospel that are relevant.  We must enter Holy Week as though we were participants in the events, indeed read of them but then mix in the crowd that surrounds Christ and ask ourselves, Where am I in this crowd? Am I one of those who said 'Hosanna to the Son of David!'? And am I now on the fringe of saying, 'Crucify him'? Am I one of the disciples who were faithful until the moments of ultimate danger came upon them? ....... And then we will be able to meet the day of the Resurrection together with those to whom it was life and resurrection indeed, when despair had gone, new hope had come, God had conquered."

(From pp. 172-73, 175 of "Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh: Essential Writings"). 

A New Advertising Campaign for the Church

Church advertising campaigns often contain catchy or cute slogans, combined with pictures of smiling families.


Maybe instead of smiling families, the next picture that churches should use in a campaign to attract new worshipers should look something like this:

The person at the center of the picture is St. Benjamin of Petrograd.  He was consecrated a bishop in the Russian Orthodox Church in 1910, only a few years before the Russian Revolution.  When the communists took over and formed what would become known as the Soviet Union, Russian clergy became prime targets of persecution - in the coming years, nearly all of them were either executed or sent to forced labor camps.

St. Benjamin was arrested in 1922 because of his status as a bishop, and the picture is from his trial. The beliefs of the common people remained strong, and as he entered the courtroom for his trial, people stood up for him while he blessed them.  When offered a chance to speak, he told the court that it saddened him to be called an enemy of the people, when he had always loved the people because of his love for God. Nevertheless, he was found guilty and condemned to death.  In August, 1922, he was taken out to the firing squad, dressed in rags and clean-shaven, so that those carrying out the execution would not know he was a member of the clergy.  


Also, today, April 9, is the 69th anniversary of the death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, so today is the day that we remember him in the Lutheran church.  Bonhoeffer, of course, was the German Lutheran pastor who was executed by the Nazis in the closing days of World War II.    A slogan that could accompany the picture in this new marketing campaign would use Bonhoeffer's words: "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die."

A congregation using this picture and slogan would probably not attract casual worshipers who are looking for a place to make them happy and satisfied.  But, the marketing campaign would perhaps send a message - a message that the Church exists to welcome people into the Body of Christ, and to nourish their faith through Word and Sacrament.  What kind of faith?  A kind of faith that does not expect God to shower us with happiness and contentment, but a faith in God that can survive the trials and ordeals of our lives. A kind of faith that can even be sustained under extreme circumstances, like the circumstances dealt to St. Benjamin and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  A kind of faith, given and strengthened by the Holy Spirit, that allows a person to stand in front of the face of evil and proclaim the Gospel.       

A Prayer in the Darkness

In these early days of Lent, Spring is almost here, but for a few more days, there is still more darkness than light.

There are glimmers of hope in the world around us, but much of the world remains mired in despair.

We are called to trust that the light of Christ shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it, but when our humanity gets in the way and we cannot see the light, our trust is shaken.

In the midst of these times, the following prayer of St. Symeon the New Theologian (949 - 1022 A.D.) reminds us that the light of Christ is still there, illuminating our darkness:

I thank you that you, even while I was sitting in 

darkness,

revealed yourself to me, you enlightened me,

you granted me to see the light of your countenance

that is unbearable to all.

I remained seated in the middle of the darkness,

I know,

but, while I was there surrounded by darkness, 

you appeared as light, illuminating me

completely from your total light.

And I became light in the night,

I who was found in the midst of darkness.

Neither the darkness extinguished your light

completely,

nor did the light dissipate the visible darkness,

but they were together, yet completely separate,

without confusion, far from each other,

surely not at all mixed,

except in the same spot where they filled everything,

so it seems to me.

So I am in the light, yet I am found in the middle 

of the darkness.

So I am in the darkness, yet still I am in the 

middle of the light. 

(From pp. 187-188 of "Prayer of the Heart: The Contemplative Tradition of the Christian East" by George Maloney, S.J.).

A Lenten Exercise (Literally!)

If you are like me, prayer is primarily a mental activity, and not a physical discipline. That was not the case for Christians of the Early Church, as the Lenten Prayer of St. Ephrem the Syrian (306 - 373 A.D.) indicates: 

O Lord and Master of my life, keep from me the spirit of indifference and discouragement, lust of power and idle chatter. [prostration]

Instead, grant to me, Your servant, the spirit of wholeness of being, humble-mindedness, patience, and love. [prostration]

O Lord and King, grant me the grace to be aware of my sins and not to judge my brother; for You are blessed now and ever and forever. Amen. [prostration]

 (The image is from http://morespaciousthantheheavens.blogspot.com/2010/06/prostrations-on-sunday.html)


Eastern Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann wrote a commentary on St. Ephrem's prayer, which concluded with these words on the importance of using our bodies, and not just our words, when we pray:

"After each petition of the prayer we make a prostration. Prostrations are not limited to the Prayer of St. Ephrem but constitute one of the distinctive characteristics of the entire lenten worship. Here, however, their meaning is disclosed best of all. In the long and difficult effort of spiritual recovery, the Church does not separate the soul from the body. The whole man has fallen away from God; the whole man is to be restored, the whole man is to return. The catastrophe of sin lies precisely in the victory of the flesh -- the animal, the irrational, the lust in us -- over the spiritual and the divine. But the body is glorious; the body is holy, so holy that God Himself "became flesh." Salvation and repentance then are not contempt for the body or neglect of it, but restoration of the body to its real function as the expression and the life of spirit, as the temple of the priceless human soul. Christian asceticism is a fight, not against but for the body. For this reason, the whole man - soul and body  - repents. The body participates in the prayer of the soul just as the soul prays through and in the body. Prostrations, the "psycho-somatic" sign of repentance and humility, of adoration and obedience, are thus the lenten rite par excellence."

(You can read all of Father Schmemann's reflection on St. Ephrem's prayer at: http://www.sv-luka.org/misionar/lentenpr_n2.htm)

I don't expect to overcome my reserved nature and do full-fledged prostrations all throughout Lent like Christians from the East do. Hopefully, though, my Lenten prayer discipline this year will include more of what is comfortable to me (and most Western Christians) during prayer - kneeling, making the sign of the cross, and lifting up my hands.  And who knows - maybe the Holy Spirit will knock me over into doing a prostration or two.     

Mountain Spirituality, Stylite Style

During the occasions when I visit St. Thomas Orthodox Church (see my earlier article http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/06/looking-to-east.html), I still act like a good Lutheran, and always sit in the same pew toward the back of the church.  So, I always end up sitting by an icon of St. Simeon the Stylite.  Given my interest in what I have called "mountain spirituality" (see my earlier posts here -
http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/search/label/Mountain%20Spirituality), its perhaps no accident that I sit by St. Simeon.

St. Simeon was a Fifth Century hermit-monk who lived for 37 years on top of a small platform.  He had developed a reputation as a holy man, so many came to him for prayers and advice, but he desired solitude.  So, he ascended to the top of an abandoned pillar in order to live and pray alone.

As you can see in many of the icons depicting St. Simeon, though, he did not achieve his desire for solitude by living on top of the pillar, as many still came to see him. After St. Simeon, others hermits, known as "stylites" followed his ascetic practice of living, praying, and fasting on top of platforms. 

I thought this tradition was unique to the Byzantine period, and was therefore extinct.  To my surprise, I read an article in yesterday's Huffington Post that this ancient tradition is being revived by a monk who lives in the former Soviet republic of Georgia:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/19/katskhi-pillar-monk-georgia-maxime-qavtaradze_n_3950192.html.

The monk, a 59 year old man named Maxime Qavtaradze, spent time in prison during his younger years, but now, like St. Simeon, offers prayers and counsel to people who come to rock to meet him.  But, also like St. Simeon, he lives on the rock because of the solitude:  "It is up here in the silence that you can feel God's presence." 

On Earth as it is in Heaven

I love music. 

I'm not really much of a musician, though.  I was in band and choir in the small town high school that I attended, and did relatively well there, but there wasn't much competition.  That's what my kids tell me, anyway, when I try to brag about being the first chair trumpet player in the Western Iowa Conference honor band during my senior year.  I no longer play an instrument, and while my voice has improved due to the constant singing I do as a pastor, I lack the training to excel at vocal music. 

However, despite my lack of musicianship, I nevertheless think that I know quite a bit about music because I've listened to so much of it over my lifetime.  I haven't made the transition to listening to music via download, but I have boxes full of CDs and vinyl albums that I have collected over the years.  On top of that, I don't know how many music groups I have seen perform over the years, but it has to be well into the hundreds - ranging from watching bar bands all the way up to seeing groups like the Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd play in stadiums to crowds in excess of 50,000 people.  Country, folk, heavy metal, hard rock, classic rock, punk, rap, pop, orchestra, jazz, blues - I've seen it all. 

Has my history listening to live music influenced the way I preside over worship, though? Not really.  Just because I've seen Mick Jagger twice in concert doesn't mean I want to move like him (apologies to Maroon 5). 

Instead, what has influenced my worship style is the belief that what we do during worship should reflect how the angels and saints worship God.  How do we know the way they worship God? We see through the mirror dimly, but Isaiah 6, among other passages from the Bible, gives us a clue:

"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. ²Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. ³And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.’"

We can't fly around like the seraphs, but we can sing their song.  Their words form the basis of the Sanctus - the "Holy, Holy. Holy" song that is sung by the congregation during the Eucharistic liturgy.  When we sing those words, regardless of whatever style of music is used to accompany the words, we mirror the heavenly liturgy.  Our voices our joined with the angels in their eternal song of praise.

I am partial to classical forms of the liturgy.   When I hear recordings of great Russian choirs singing the Sanctus, it sounds like I have a front row seat to a concert by the choirs of angels and archangels.

I can accept the fact that this kind of music might not appeal to everyone the appeals to me.  Regardless of the style of music used to perform the song, though, the words matter.  Because of Christ, we participate in God's divine nature (2 Peter 1:4), so why wouldn't we want to participate in those aspects of the heavenly liturgy that have been revealed to us through the visions recorded in Isaiah and elsewhere in the Bible? 

When we gather together for worship, we enter into sacred time and space.  The veil between heaven and earth is lifted, and our voices can join those of the saints of all ages in the praise of God.  Therefore, the words and music of worship should be used in a way that allows us to be in harmony with the angels and saints, instead of merely being a distant echo.  

More on the Spirituality of Silence

A few months ago, I wrote about the spirituality of silence. (http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-spirituality-of-silence.html).  Since then, I've been thinking about how a spirituality of silence might be relevant to those of us who don't live in a monastic cloister, such as the Carthusians that I wrote about in my previous article.  I recently came across this passage from a book called "The Jesus Prayer" which emphasizes how times of intentional silence can give us freedom:


"Silence is not just a kind of ascetic discipline that we lay upon ourselves.  It is not a clamp over our lips such as a schoolteacher might impose in calling for silence in the schoolroom.  Rather silence means freedom from the bondage of words, freedom from the constraints of thought and desire, freedom from the compulsion to go on talking and thinking up ideas and adopting viewpoints and feeling desire - or repressing such feelings.  We often read of this in one of our communion hymns:

      Let all mortal flesh keep silence
      And with fear and trembling stand.....

At last all our inner drive to think and desire and form words can come to end.  The whole person can rest and be at peace - and worship Christ."

(from pp. 63-64 of the book "The Jesus Prayer" by Per Olof-Sjogren - a great book about the Eastern Orthodox practice of praying the Jesus Prayer, from the perspective Swedish Lutheran priest).

How Not to Pray to Santa Claus

The members of my congregation have heard me preach about how our prayers sometimes seem to be directed to the "great Santa Claus in the sky" - a God who seems to exist to give us stuff when we ask for it.  When I make that comment in a sermon, it is largely directed at myself, as I have prayed that way many times.  Of course, Jesus told the disciples that we can ask God for what we need ("give us this day our daily bread"), but that does not mean we should tell God to give us whatever we want.

How do we avoid falling into the trap of praying to the "great Santa Claus in the sky"?  One way is to remember that a few simple words will do the job.  Prayers need not be lengthy petitions or sermons to God. A simple cry to the Lord for mercy will oftentimes suffice, as it seeks union with the very heart of God:

"[T]he prayer for mercy is not a prayer for certain gifts of grace from God, nor a prayer for forgiveness, for strength, for help in the changing fortunes of life, nor a prayer for any particular gift from God, but a cry to God himself, a prayer to his heart, implying: the man who is enfolded in the heart of God needs nothing more.... It is an additional advantage and benefit to pray for everything needful, but praying for contact with the  heart of God includes all kinds of prayer: confession of sin, thanksgiving, intercession, praise, petition."  (From the book "The Jesus Prayer" by Per-Olof Sjogren).

Also, when we simply pray for mercy, our prayers are joined with the saints of various eras.  Each one of the verses of Psalm 136 includes the phrase "for his mercy endures forever." In Luke 18:13, Jesus extolled the virtue of the prayer of the tax collector, which was simply "God, be merciful to me, a sinner."  The tax collector's prayer is echoed in the ancient "Jesus Prayer" which has been used for centuries in the Eastern Church: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."  The liturgies of both the Eastern and Western Churches include the prayer "Kyrie Eleison" - "Lord, have mercy."

So, the next time we get the urge to make our prayers look like a laundry list directed toward God, remember that the simple request for mercy encompasses a request for what we really need - union with God.

Modern Martyrdom

"The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church" ~ Tertullian.

The images and stories coming from Egypt this week have reminded us that martyrs are not merely people from the distant past - people are being killed because of their faith in today's world.  At the same time the worldwide Church was honoring Mary on her feast day, St. Virgin Mary Coptic Orthodox Church (one of many churches in Egypt destroyed this week) was burning.  Here is an image of the remains of the Church's altar:

Martyrdom is not just something that happens "somewhere else" though.  One particular instance of modern martyrdom has captivated me since I first read the story a few years ago.  48 years ago today, on August 20, 1965, Jonathan Myrick Daniels was killed due to actions he took because of his Christian faith, right here in the United States.   

Daniels was a seminarian at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Massachusetts in the spring of 1965, when Martin Luther King Jr. put out a call for students and clergy to come to Alabama and participate in a march from Selma to the state capital of Montgomery.  Daniels answered the call, and when he missed his bus to go back home, he stayed behind in Selma the rest of that semester to help the civil rights movement.  He returned to Cambridge for his final exams, and then went back to Alabama in July.

(An image of Daniels with two children in the house where he stayed in Alabama).

On August 14th, Daniels was arrested for protesting against a "whites only" store, and he was sent to a county jail in Haynesville, Alabama, along with several others.  After their release on August 20th, Daniels, along with a Catholic priest and two young African-Americans, went to a local store to get a soft drink.  They were met at the door by the store's owner, Tom Coleman, who was carrying a shotgun.  When Coleman aimed the gun at 17 year old Ruby Sales, Daniels pushed her away, and he caught the full impact of the blast in his chest, killing him instantly.

The story of his murder was reported nationally in the immediate aftermath of his death, and once again after his killer was acquitted by an all-white Alabama jury.

At his funeral, one of his professors read from a paper that Daniels wrote and submitted on June 22, 1965, entitled "Theological Reflections on My Experience in Selma."  Quoting the Magnificat (the song of Mary), Daniels wrote:

"All of this is the raw material for living theology.  And yet in as deep a sense, from my point of view, it is the product of living theology.  The doctrines of the creeds, the enacted faith of the sacraments, were the essential preconditions of the experience itself.  The faith with which I went to Selma has not changed: it has grown.  Darkening coals have kindled. Faith has taken wing and flown with a song in its wings. 'My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my Spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior...'

I lost fear in the black belt (referring to a region in Alabama known for its dark soil) when I began to know in my bones and sinews that I had truly been baptized into the Lord's Death and Resurrection, that in the only sense that really matters I am already dead, and my life is hid with Christ in God."

(Quoted in the book "Outside Agitator" by Charles W. Eagles, p. 183).

Mary and the Modern Church

In my denomination, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), today is the day on the Church's calendar when we celebrate the life and witness of Mary, Mother of Our Lord.  In the Episcopal Church, today is known as the feast day of St. Mary the Virgin, Mother of Our Lord.  Catholic and Orthodox Christians celebrate Mary on several days each year, and today is known as the day they celebrate her assumption into heaven (Catholic) or dormition ("falling asleep" - Orthodox).

(Icon of the Dormition by Theophan the Greek, from the year 1392).

Late yesterday afternoon, on the eve of the day when the Church remembers Mary, our Churchwide Assembly elected a new Presiding Bishop, Elizabeth Eaton, who is the current Bishop of the Northeastern Ohio Synod.  I wasn't able to watch all of the election process online, but from what I did see, I suspect she gained a lot of support during the voting because of her candor in answering the questions posed to the nominees.  It was refreshing to hear someone acknowledge where we are as a denomination - wounded from battles that have raged about various matters since the merger that formed the ELCA 25 years ago, and the loss of almost 25% of its membership in those 25 years.

Also, judging from the various social media conversations about the election, once her candidacy gained some traction, a lot of the talk centered around the fact that her election would be historic - she would be the ELCA's first female Presiding Bishop.  Just a few years ago, the Episcopal Church elected its first female Presiding Bishop, Katherine Jefferts Schori.

I find it somewhat ironic that despite all of the talk about the leadership of women in the modern American denominations that descend from the Protestant Reformation, the leadership of Mary is still ignored by many. 

The typical Protestant reasoning for avoiding any discussion about Mary is the allegation that it takes the focus away from Jesus.  To the contrary, the life of Mary points to her Son.  For example, this reflection by a Benedictine monk (incorporating Eastern Orthodox theology) on the dormition shows how the role of Mary, properly understood, glorifies Christ:

"At Mary's death her Son appears like a heavenly midwife who has helped his mother give birth to herself into eternity.  Her newborn soul is represented as a child wrapped in swaddling clothes, a thought-provoking reversal of his own physical birth when she wrapped him in swaddling bands and laid him in the manger (Lk 2:7).  She gave birth to him into time: now he regenerates her into eternity.  It is Mary's personal pascha/transitus, her journey through death to life: but like that of all other believers it is accomplished not through her own strength but because of the paschal mystery of her Son."

(From p. 264 of "Meeting Christ in His Mysteries: A Benedictine Vision of the Spiritual Life" by Gregory Collins, OSB).

When she spoke to the assembly yesterday, Bishop Eaton talked about the importance of the theology of the cross. Who was at the foot of the cross, watching the crucifixion of her Son?  Mary.  John 19:26-27 tells us: "When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, 'Woman, here is your son.' Then he said to the disciple, 'Here is your mother.' And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home."

A theology of the cross that does not place us at the foot of the cross alongside Mary is no theology of the cross at all. 

Want to Have an Encounter with an Angel?

Angels have been in the news again this week because of the mystery surrounding the appearance of an unknown priest at the scene of a serious car accident in Missouri.  If you haven't read about it yet, here's an example of one of the many news stories about the event:

http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/08/07/angel-crash-missouri/2630227/

I'm not going to speculate regarding the nature of this event, although it is intriguing.  The point of this article is that we don't have to get into a traumatic situation, like a car crash, to have an encounter with the angels. 

Chapter 19 of the Rule of St. Benedict notes that when we join in the daily prayer of the Church, our voices are in harmony with the voices of the angels:

"We believe that God is everywhere, and the Lord sees both good and evil in all places. Without doubt, we believe this is so especially when assisting in the Divine Office. Remember the prophet: 'Serve the Lord in fear' (Ps. 2:10), and 'Sing His praises with understanding' (Ps. 47:7) and also 'In the sight of angels I will sing praise to You' (Ps. 138:1).  Let us consider our place in sight of God and of his angels.  Let us rise in chanting that our hearts and voices harmonize."

The same is true with the Eucharist.  At the conclusion of the preface, the celebrant chants: "With all the choirs of angels, with the church on earth and the hosts of heaven, we praise your name and join their unending hymn..." This leads into the singing of the Sanctus ("Holy, Holy, Holy Lord, God of power and might..."), which is the song sung by the seraphim in the presence of the Lord (Isaiah 6:1-3).

Skepticism about angels abounds in modern society, no doubt caused in part by the image that many people have of angels, which has been shaped by art and movies.  ("Its a Wonderful Life" and "Angels in the Outfield" are two examples of cute, but misleading, depictions of angels).  Angels play a crucial role in the Biblical story, though, as they serve as messengers of warning (Genesis 19 - the story of Sodom and Gomorrah) and hope (Luke 1:26-38 - the appearance of the angel to Mary).

In the daily life of a Christian, the presence of angels around us should give us comfort, for as noted by Russian Orthodox theologian Sergius Bulgakov, they are "standing before the throne of God, live a common life with us, and are united by the bonds of love." (from "Jacob's Ladder: On Angels" p. 164).

(The icon at the beginning of this article is found at Bethel Lutheran Church, University City, Missouri - you can read about it here: http://www.bethel-ucity.org/asp/art.asp).     

UPDATE 8/13/13: The mystery priest has been identified.  http://www.cnn.com/2013/08/13/us/missouri-mystery-priest/index.html

Thoughts from a Benedictine on the Sacramental Nature of Scripture

Today in the mail, I received a book called "Meeting Christ in His Mysteries: A Benedictine Vision of the Spiritual Life" by Gregory Collins, OSB. While I was skimming through parts of it this evening, I noticed a passage entitled "The Sacramental Mystery of Scripture." 

Since I wrote a blog post on that same subject a few months ago (http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-sacramental-quality-of-reading.html), I have been thinking about how viewing Scripture as a sacrament cuts through the tired debates about the Bible that seem to be largely driven by American Protestants.  Conservative American Protestants demand allegiance to a belief in the inerrancy and infallibility of Scripture.  Liberal American Protestants are all over the map on how to view Scripture, but are united in their opposition to believing that it is inerrant and infallible.

Here is a quote from the book which offers some support to what I think is a better way to think about Scripture - the way that Scripture has been traditionally viewed throughout the history of the Church before the recent American debates came along:

"Because Christianity is an historical religion based on the real incarnation of God in time and space, the Catholic and Orthodox churches do not accept a fundamentalist reading of the Bible.  Scripture mediates God's word in the most privileged way. It is the written record of God's living voice and a constant source for the church not only of life and consolation but also of challenge and rebuke. But the written text cannot simply be identified in a simplistic way with the Word as such, any more than the flesh of Christ may be simplistically described as 'God' in an absolute sense: by analogy with Christ's humanity, human words are joined to the Word and become transparent to the divine."  (p. 65)

Luther's view of Scripture as being like a cradle that holds Christ would seem to be consistent with this approach, which is beholden to neither fundamentalism nor modern skepticism.  Instead of aligning himself with modern American Protestants at either end of the spectrum, then, I think Luther would by sympathetic with this sentiment from the 20th century Benedictine theologian, Dom Odo Casel (quoted in the book at page 63):

"The fathers, with the light of faith to guide them, saw everywhere - in the law, the prophets, the acts of Old Testament kings and saints, here more clearly, there less - the figure of Jesus, glowing in the half-darkness, until it emerges in the gospel's brightness.  What the ancients gradually and wearily came to was as clear as the noonday when the world's own light shone: the keys to all mysteries were in Christ; when this unfailing instrument, the key of David, is put to the explaining of Scripture, the whole beauty, depth, and clarity of Christian allegory is seen for what it really is in the liturgy.  Its heart is the redeeming work of Christ and everything we read and pray in these texts points to that."

Looking to the East

Lately, it seems like I've hit a rough patch in my attempt to follow the Benedictine tradition of praying the daily offices.  I continue to lead Morning Prayer and Compline most days at the Virtual Abbey (see my previous blog post http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-virtual-abbey.html ) but lately, I'm having a hard time getting motivated to pray a more complete version of the offices.

 

During times like these, I find myself longing to pray with a community.  My congregation, like many Lutheran congregations, has a tradition of gathering for Vespers during Advent and Lent on Wednesday evenings, but at no other times during the year.  Some day, perhaps I will expand upon that time frame.  But, in the meantime, where can I go other times of the year to pray with a community?

 

I'm not aware of any other parishes in my town from the Western liturgical tradition (Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran) that pray any of the daily offices as a community on a year-round basis.  If my town had a Benedictine monastery, I could go there, but the only local monastery is a community of cloistered Carmelite nuns - since they don't follow the Rule of St. Benedict, I don't think they allow visitors very often.   

 

So, when I long to pray with a community, I look to the East. 

 

Throughout the year, St. Thomas Orthodox Church comes together as a community to pray Vespers on Wednesdays and Saturday evenings.  Here is a picture of the interior of St. Thomas before the service, as the setting sun was beaming through the windows and shining on the icons:  

 

                           

During Vespers services at St. Thomas, we pray one of the most ancient hymns of the Church, the "Phos Hilaron" ("O Gladsome Light").  The words of the Phos Hilaron seemed especially fitting tonight as the light of the sun brightened the interior of the sanctuary during the service:

O gladsome Light of the holy glory of the immortal,

heavenly, holy, blessed Father, O Jesus Christ!

We that come to the setting of the sun,

when we behold the evening Light,

praise Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, God.

Meet it is for thee at all times to be praised with gladsome voices,

O Son of God, Giver of Life.

Wherefore the world doth glorify thee.

 

When those words of the ancient liturgy are chanted in a sanctuary full of the haze of incense, and icons illuminated by the sun, it truly feels like a foretaste of the heavenly feast. 

  

St. Benedict is normally referred to as a Western saint, but since he was a part of the undivided Church of the first millenium, before the division between East and West, he belongs to the whole Church.  So, I think St. Benedict would think it is okay for me to  look to the East while trying to follow his path. 



The Sacramental Quality of Reading Scripture

While the sacramental quality of Scripture had crossed my mind before, I don't think I had ever given much thought to what that effectively meant.  Two quotes I read today on another blog (http://curlewriver.wordpress.com/2013/05/20/the-calendar-and-the-bible-for-us-today/) brilliantly describe how the reading of Scripture is not mere devotional reading, but a real participation in the Biblical story.

The first is from Martin Thornton, quoting Sergius Bulgakov:

During the service of Christmas there is not merely the memory of the birth of Christ, but truly Christ is born in a mysterious manner, just as at Easter he is resurrected. … The life of the Church, in these services, makes actual for us the mystery of the Incarnation. … [I]t is given to the Church to make living these sacred memories so that we should be their new witnesses and participate in them. (Christian Proficiency, p.69)

The second is from Dietrich Bonhoeffer's classic book, "Life Together" - even though I've read through the book twice, the importance of this passage did not hit me until now:

Consecutive reading of biblical books forces everyone who wants to hear to put himself, or to allow himself to be found, where God has acted once and for all for the salvation of men. We become part of what once took place for our salvation. Forgetting and losing ourselves, we, too, pass through the Red Sea, through the desert, across the Jordan into the promised land. With Israel we fall into doubt and unbelief and through punishment and repentance experience again God’s help and faithfulness. All this is not mere reverie but holy, godly reality. We are torn out of our own existence and set down in the midst of the holy history of God on earth. There God dealt with us, and there he still deals with us, our needs and our sins, in judgment and grace. It is not that God is the spectator and sharer of our present life, howsoever important that is; but rather that we are the reverent listeners and participants in God’s action in the sacred story, the history of the Christ on earth. And only in so far as we are there, is God with us today also. (Life Together, p.38)

In the Lutheran tradition, we commonly refer to the pastoral office as the office of "Word and Sacrament." Given the sacramental quality of the Word, I'll have to rethink how I describe the office of ministry, as that phrase implies a dichotomy where there is none.  In any event, viewing the reading of Scripture as a sacramental action, where the reader is engaged in a real encounter with God, gives me a greater impetus to focus on the daily office of prayer and Scripture reading.

Love, Russian Orthodox Style

Recently, my wife bought a book for me called "Everyday Saints and Other Stories" by Archimandrite Tikhon (Shevkunov) for my Kindle.  I haven't read too far into the book yet, but so far, it is a fascinating account of Russian Orthodox monastic spirituality.  The author writes lovingly of his spiritual father, Father John Krestiankin of the Pskov Caves Monastery.  Many came to Father John for spiritual guidance, and heard messages like this one:

"We have been commanded by our Lord to love our neighbor as ourselves, but it is none of our business whether they love us or not! The only thing for us to worry about is to make sure we truly love them."

If only more people in this increasingly adversarial world would take heed of Father John's words.

More information about the book can be found here: http://www.everyday-saints.com/