Today, my son Jonathan affirmed his baptism through the rite traditionally known as confirmation.
The Lutheran rite contains the following questions:
Do you renounce the devil and all the forces that defy God?
Do you renounce the powers of this world that rebel against God?
Do you renounce the ways of sin that draw you from God?
The answer my son gave to each one of those questions was "I renounce them".
In doing so, he also turned to the east. Perhaps he did not do so literally from the perspective of geography, but in the minds of the Early Church Fathers, he turned toward the east after he renounced the devil, the powers of this world, and the ways of sin. The following passage written by Gabriel Bunge, O.S.B., connects the baptismal rite with the ancient practice of facing the east when praying:
"In the sacrament (of baptism), what was bestowed upon humanity as a whole in salvation history is bestowed upon me in an utterly personal way.
(Quoting Cyril of Jerusalem) 'When, therefore, you renounce Satan, utterly breaking all covenant with him, that ancient league with hell, there is opened to you the Paradise of God, which he planted toward the east, whence for his transgression our first father was exiled; and symbolic of this was your turning from the west toward the east, the place of light.'
The relation between the 'east' and Christ is so close in the mind of the Fathers that Ambrose in the same context, with regard to the newly baptized turning from the west toward the east, can simply say: 'Whoever renounces the devil turns toward Christ and looks at him directly.'
Whenever a Christian places himself in the presence of his Lord to pray, therefore - even if this is not always said explicitly or consciously adverted to - he renews with this turn toward the east that act of turning away from the evil one and of professing the triune God, which he performed once and for all in baptism."
(From the book, "Earthen Vessels: The Practice of Personal Prayer According to the Patristic Tradition" pp. 66-67).
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Monday, October 21, 2013
Is the Rule of St. Benedict Supported by the Bible?
A common question posed by Protestants about any Christian belief or practice is: "But where is that found in the Bible?" This post is not about the merits (or lack thereof) of sola scriptura (scripture alone); instead, it will set forth a few ways in which the core of the Benedictine way is supported by the Bible.
One verse sums it up: "They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers." (Acts 2:42).
How does that verse relate to the essence of the Rule of St. Benedict? Acts 2:42 can be broken down into three parts: (1) "They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship" - this is found in various Benedictine devotional practices, such as lectio divina ("divine reading"). (2) "The breaking of bread" - the Rule of St. Benedict emphasizes the importance of the Eucharist. (3) "The prayers" - this brief mention needs further explanation, but there is a direct parallel between the pattern of daily prayer used by the first Christians, and the later daily office of prayers set forth in the Rule of St. Benedict.
This note in the Orthodox Study Bible helps explain the reference to "prayers" in Acts 2:42: "Prayers is literally 'the prayers' in Greek, referring to specific liturgical prayers. The Jews had practiced liturgical prayer for centuries, the preeminent prayers being the Psalms. Because the Psalms point so clearly to Christ, Christians immediately incorporated them into (New Testament) worship."
With that background in mind, other Biblical references to the daily liturgical prayers, which were incorporated into the Rule of St. Benedict, become obvious:
"One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon." (Acts 3:1). The apostles were praying the mid-afternoon prayers, later referred to by Benedictines as the office of "None".
"In Caesarea there was a man named Cornelius, a centurion of the Italian Cohort, as it was called. He was a devout man who feared God with all his household; he gave alms generously to the people and prayed constantly to God. One afternoon at about three o’clock he had a vision in which he clearly saw an angel of God coming in and saying to him, ‘Cornelius.’ He stared at him in terror and said, ‘What is it, Lord?’ He answered, ‘Your prayers and your alms have ascended as a memorial before God.'" (Acts 10: 1-4 - see also the reference at Acts 10:30). Here, Cornelius is praying the mid-afternoon prayers when he had the encounter with an angel.
"About noon the next day, as they were on their journey and approaching the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray." (Acts 10:9). Noontime prayer in the Rule of St. Benedict is referred to as "Sext".
"About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them." (Acts 16:25). Here, they were praying the night office of "Vigils" - some monastic orders, such as the Carthusians, still pray at midnight. While most Benedictines have adjusted the time frame, they still pray the night office of prayers.
And how far back does the tradition of praying seven times a day go? At least as far back as the Psalms: "Seven times a day I praise you for your righteous ordinances." (Psalm 119:164).
Sometimes, this daily prayer ritual, observed by the apostles and followed to this day by Benedictines and other orders, is referred to as the "sanctification of time" - the hours of the day are made holy by prayer. For those of us who do not live in a cloister, and who have secular jobs, observing the seven daily prayer offices will not be feasible. However, given the Biblical precedent revealing the importance of regular daily prayer at different times, it should be a goal of all Christians - not just monastics - to figure out a daily prayer regimen that works for them, and follow it.
(Thanks to Matthew Dallman, author of the excellent book "The Benedictine Parish" - reviewed at http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-benedictine-parish.html - for highlighting the relevance of Acts 2:42 to the Benedictine way).
One verse sums it up: "They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers." (Acts 2:42).
How does that verse relate to the essence of the Rule of St. Benedict? Acts 2:42 can be broken down into three parts: (1) "They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship" - this is found in various Benedictine devotional practices, such as lectio divina ("divine reading"). (2) "The breaking of bread" - the Rule of St. Benedict emphasizes the importance of the Eucharist. (3) "The prayers" - this brief mention needs further explanation, but there is a direct parallel between the pattern of daily prayer used by the first Christians, and the later daily office of prayers set forth in the Rule of St. Benedict.
This note in the Orthodox Study Bible helps explain the reference to "prayers" in Acts 2:42: "Prayers is literally 'the prayers' in Greek, referring to specific liturgical prayers. The Jews had practiced liturgical prayer for centuries, the preeminent prayers being the Psalms. Because the Psalms point so clearly to Christ, Christians immediately incorporated them into (New Testament) worship."
With that background in mind, other Biblical references to the daily liturgical prayers, which were incorporated into the Rule of St. Benedict, become obvious:
"One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon." (Acts 3:1). The apostles were praying the mid-afternoon prayers, later referred to by Benedictines as the office of "None".
"In Caesarea there was a man named Cornelius, a centurion of the Italian Cohort, as it was called. He was a devout man who feared God with all his household; he gave alms generously to the people and prayed constantly to God. One afternoon at about three o’clock he had a vision in which he clearly saw an angel of God coming in and saying to him, ‘Cornelius.’ He stared at him in terror and said, ‘What is it, Lord?’ He answered, ‘Your prayers and your alms have ascended as a memorial before God.'" (Acts 10: 1-4 - see also the reference at Acts 10:30). Here, Cornelius is praying the mid-afternoon prayers when he had the encounter with an angel.
"About noon the next day, as they were on their journey and approaching the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray." (Acts 10:9). Noontime prayer in the Rule of St. Benedict is referred to as "Sext".
"About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them." (Acts 16:25). Here, they were praying the night office of "Vigils" - some monastic orders, such as the Carthusians, still pray at midnight. While most Benedictines have adjusted the time frame, they still pray the night office of prayers.
And how far back does the tradition of praying seven times a day go? At least as far back as the Psalms: "Seven times a day I praise you for your righteous ordinances." (Psalm 119:164).
Sometimes, this daily prayer ritual, observed by the apostles and followed to this day by Benedictines and other orders, is referred to as the "sanctification of time" - the hours of the day are made holy by prayer. For those of us who do not live in a cloister, and who have secular jobs, observing the seven daily prayer offices will not be feasible. However, given the Biblical precedent revealing the importance of regular daily prayer at different times, it should be a goal of all Christians - not just monastics - to figure out a daily prayer regimen that works for them, and follow it.
(Thanks to Matthew Dallman, author of the excellent book "The Benedictine Parish" - reviewed at http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-benedictine-parish.html - for highlighting the relevance of Acts 2:42 to the Benedictine way).
Monday, October 14, 2013
How to Fight a Zombie Apocalypse
Zombies are all around us!
Halloween is approaching, so signs of the "Zombie Apocalypse" are increasing. The town where I live just had its annual "zombie walk." My son plays in a college marching band, and the theme of their halftime show is the "Zombie Apocalypse." The fourth season of a popular television show ("The Walking Dead" - the story of a post-apocalyptic America overrun by zombies) just began. The DVD of the zombie movie "World War Z" recently topped the sales charts.
The "Zombie Apocalypse" is fictional, of course, but our culture's fascination with a world taken over by the living dead is perhaps another sign that our culture has an unhealthy relationship with the prospect of death, as well as the future of our world. What can we do about this unhealthy relationship?
A simple gesture can help - the sign of the cross.
In my (admittedly limited) experience, I have noticed that Lutherans have recently made the sign of the cross upon themselves much more frequently. Luther wrote that at the beginning of our morning and evening prayers, we should make the sign of the cross, but somewhere along the line, many Lutherans forgot to follow his advice. Increasingly, though, it appears that we are returning to one of the most ancient forms of Christian devotion.
So, how does the sign of the cross help us deal with death and the future of the world? And, just in case there really is a "Zombie Apocalypse", would making the sign of the cross help us against the undead? These words from a Benedictine monk (which would be whole-heartedly endorsed by Luther, I think) help answer those questions:
"This gesture of signing oneself with the cross, like no other gesture, identifies the Christian as a 'Christian', as (one) whose salvation comes solely from Christ's death on the Cross, into which (we have) been drawn in a mysterious manner through the sacrament of baptism. . . .
For this reason the holy sign of the cross, which we make over ourselves or others, is always a profession of faith in the victory that Christ on the Cross won against every hostile power. For the Fathers always made use of this sign, also, whenever they knew that they were confronted with these hostile powers. Indeed, Anthony the Great (one of the Desert Fathers of the early Church) taught his disciples that the demons and phantasms were in reality 'nothing and quickly disappear, especially when a person (is armed) with faith and the sign of the cross.' . . . .
As great as the power of the sign of the cross is, it is not a question of a magical gesture. It is faith that makes it mighty!"
(from pages 181-183 of "Earthen Vessels: The Practice of Personal Prayer According to the Patristic Tradition" by Gabriel Bunge, O.S.B.).
Halloween is approaching, so signs of the "Zombie Apocalypse" are increasing. The town where I live just had its annual "zombie walk." My son plays in a college marching band, and the theme of their halftime show is the "Zombie Apocalypse." The fourth season of a popular television show ("The Walking Dead" - the story of a post-apocalyptic America overrun by zombies) just began. The DVD of the zombie movie "World War Z" recently topped the sales charts.
The "Zombie Apocalypse" is fictional, of course, but our culture's fascination with a world taken over by the living dead is perhaps another sign that our culture has an unhealthy relationship with the prospect of death, as well as the future of our world. What can we do about this unhealthy relationship?
A simple gesture can help - the sign of the cross.
In my (admittedly limited) experience, I have noticed that Lutherans have recently made the sign of the cross upon themselves much more frequently. Luther wrote that at the beginning of our morning and evening prayers, we should make the sign of the cross, but somewhere along the line, many Lutherans forgot to follow his advice. Increasingly, though, it appears that we are returning to one of the most ancient forms of Christian devotion.
So, how does the sign of the cross help us deal with death and the future of the world? And, just in case there really is a "Zombie Apocalypse", would making the sign of the cross help us against the undead? These words from a Benedictine monk (which would be whole-heartedly endorsed by Luther, I think) help answer those questions:
"This gesture of signing oneself with the cross, like no other gesture, identifies the Christian as a 'Christian', as (one) whose salvation comes solely from Christ's death on the Cross, into which (we have) been drawn in a mysterious manner through the sacrament of baptism. . . .
For this reason the holy sign of the cross, which we make over ourselves or others, is always a profession of faith in the victory that Christ on the Cross won against every hostile power. For the Fathers always made use of this sign, also, whenever they knew that they were confronted with these hostile powers. Indeed, Anthony the Great (one of the Desert Fathers of the early Church) taught his disciples that the demons and phantasms were in reality 'nothing and quickly disappear, especially when a person (is armed) with faith and the sign of the cross.' . . . .
As great as the power of the sign of the cross is, it is not a question of a magical gesture. It is faith that makes it mighty!"
(from pages 181-183 of "Earthen Vessels: The Practice of Personal Prayer According to the Patristic Tradition" by Gabriel Bunge, O.S.B.).
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Is this Heaven? No, it's Iowa.
Having a rough day? Watch the first few minutes of the video entitled "One Thing" found on the website of New Melleray Abbey, located just outside Dubuque, Iowa. Since the video is not on youtube, I'm not smart enough to figure out how to embed the video here, but its worth clicking on the link:
http://www.newmelleray.org/videos.asp
http://www.newmelleray.org/videos.asp
Sunday, October 6, 2013
The Feast of St. Bruno, Founder of the Carthusian Order
In the Catholic Church, today is the feast day of the founder of the Carthusian order, St. Bruno (Unfortunately, he is not recognized on the Lutheran calendar). Since the Carthusians are strict vegetarians, I wonder how they celebrate a feast? An extra helping of peas?
Anyway, I've written before about my admiration for the Carthusians (see "Carthusian spirituality" posts http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/search/label/Cathusian%20Spirituality), but I have not written much yet about their founder, St. Bruno. He was born in Cologne, Germany, and lived from approximately 1030 - 1101 A.D. Once a professor of theology, he refused an offer to become an archbishop, and began to live as a hermit. Eventually, this led to the beginning of the Carthusian order.
The Carthusians remember him as "having a profound influence over others.... (and) regard him as a spiritual master. He did not transmit more or less esoteric techniques. The structure of the life he lived with his companions is drawn from the classical monastic tradition: hermitages grouped after the fashion of a Palestinian lavra of the early centuries, a solitude in reality, but with the reinforcement of a common life on the one hand, and on the other, certain liturgical offices in common each day. Their piety was fed by the common resources of the Church: the liturgy, the sacraments, the Word of God, Christ.... Bruno saw a life dedicated to the contemplation of God, not as a sacrifice that impoverished, but as the one thing most useful for a human being, the response to our deepest and most real needs." (From "The Call of Silent Love", pp. 7-9).
Friday, October 4, 2013
The Benedictine St. Francis
Today is the day the Church celebrates St. Francis of Assisi. I admit that sometimes when I think about St. Francis, the image that crosses my mind is one of a medieval Dr. Doolittle, wandering around the countryside and taking care of the animals. Based on this icon, I can tell that I am not the only who thinks of that image of St. Francis:
Therefore, I was intrigued by this comment in a review of a new biography of St. Francis:
"Francis cared about the Eucharist, the Daily Office, and poverty much more than he had anything to do with animals or nature. Francis was, contrary to the popular picture of him, a very ecclesial person in both his commitments and in his preoccupations." http://livingchurch.org/francis-and-beyond
Based on that description, St. Francis sounds more like St. Benedict than Dr. Doolittle.
"Most high, omnipotent, good Lord, your servant Francis of Assisi sought to reflect the image of Christ through a life of poverty and humility: Grant your people grace to imitate his joyful love, renounce gladly the vanities of the world, and delight in your whole creation; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen."
(From the "New Book of Festivals and Commemorations" by Philip Pfatteicher).
Therefore, I was intrigued by this comment in a review of a new biography of St. Francis:
"Francis cared about the Eucharist, the Daily Office, and poverty much more than he had anything to do with animals or nature. Francis was, contrary to the popular picture of him, a very ecclesial person in both his commitments and in his preoccupations." http://livingchurch.org/francis-and-beyond
Based on that description, St. Francis sounds more like St. Benedict than Dr. Doolittle.
"Most high, omnipotent, good Lord, your servant Francis of Assisi sought to reflect the image of Christ through a life of poverty and humility: Grant your people grace to imitate his joyful love, renounce gladly the vanities of the world, and delight in your whole creation; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen."
(From the "New Book of Festivals and Commemorations" by Philip Pfatteicher).
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