Ascension Day

A year ago on Ascension Day, I wrote these words on this blog:

"One of the things I hope to do in coming years at my congregation is to have an Ascension Day service, as it us unfortunately one of the least remembered festival days on the church calendar.  An important part of establishing a Benedictine ethos in a parish would be to observe all major festival days, regardless of what day of the week they fall on.

These words from St. Augustine emphasize the continuing importance of the Ascension event in our lives as Christians: 'Today our Lord Jesus Christ ascended into heaven; let our hearts ascend with him. Listen to the words of the Apostle: If you have risen with Christ, set your hearts on the things that are above where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God; seek the things that are above, not the things that are on earth. For just as he remained with us even after his ascension, so we too are already in heaven with him, even though what is promised us has not yet been fulfilled in our bodies.'"

From http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/05/ascension-day.html

Well, a year later, we had an Ascension Day service in our newly renovated chapel this morning, and we will have another one tonight at 7:00 p.m.  Thanks be to God!

Holy Places

When I was a boy, I accompanied my grandmother on Memorial Day to different cemeteries near our home in rural Southwest Iowa.  Each year, she lovingly tended to the flowers and bushes surrounding the graves of her parents, grandparents, and other members of our family. One particular cemetery that we visited each year always intrigued me, as it was seemingly located in the middle of nowhere, miles down a gravel road, far away from the nearest town. The cemetery is called Highland, and it is on the site of a long-forgotten Methodist church, the only remnant of which is the steps.

Less than a hundred graves exist at Highland, and the last person was buried there over thirty years ago.  Vandals have damaged many of the graves, but it remains a place of serene beauty in the Iowa countryside.

Despite its beauty, the graves of Highland serve as a stark reminder of how life was often cut short before the age of modern medicine.  One of the graves that my grandmother tended to at Highland was the final resting place of her mother, who died during a typhoid fever outbreak in the early 1900s.  Another grave that always fascinated me was that of my great, great, great uncle, a Civil War veteran named Thomas Barhan.  He served in the 102nd Illinois Volunteers, a unit which saw action throughout the South, including Sherman's March to the Sea.  Unfortunately, those brutal battles would not prove to be the last time that he would be an eyewitness to tragedy.  Next to his grave are the stones of his thirteen year old daughter and one year old son, Ralphie, whose marker states: "Budded on Earth, to Bloom in Heaven".

Despite what they went through, the people of Highland nevertheless came together faithfully to worship in this place, and to take care of one another. My grandmother used to tell me stories of how their neighbors and relatives stepped in to take care of her when she was left without a mother at a young age.  Despite suffering personal tragedies beyond comprehension, they believed that they had not been abandoned. God had entrusted them to this  little community, where they were loved and cared for, no matter what they were going through. 

On Memorial Day this year, I returned to Highland with my father and my oldest son, and I got the same feeling that I did when I visited there with my grandmother thirty years ago - the feeling that I was standing on sacred ground, where Heaven and Earth are not far apart.  In the Celtic Christian tradition, these sacred spots are known as "thin places", where God's presence can be felt despite the passage of time:

"There is a geography of holy places, the places where the saints have dwelt.... Places whose beauty has been revealed by lives which have been open to God in such a way as to show that this world is not a system closed upon itself.  These are places whose power persists through centuries of indifference and neglect to be revealed again when men are ready for it.  Places which display the potential holiness of all this earth which man has loved so much yet so much ravaged."

(From p. 20 of "The World is a Wedding" by A.M. Allchin).

The Desert in Modern Times? (Monday Morning in the Desert)

The lives of the ancient Desert Fathers and Mothers seems highly peculiar to 21st century people. A life defined by silence and prayer? Who has time for that?  Who would even want to do that?

Certainly, this kind of life is not for everyone.  God calls people to a variety of vocations in life, and for most of us, those vocations revolve around "regular" jobs or family life.  Contrary to modern reason, though, there are people who are called to live a life of silence and prayer now.  But, instead of living in the deserts of ancient Egypt, they live around us in houses or apartments, both in cities and in rural settings.

A modern day Desert Mother is Sister Verena Schiller, an Anglican who lives a solitary life in northern Wales.  She wrote a book about her life, and it contains this passage on why God has called some to solitary lives of prayer and silence in the midst of modernity:

"In our twentieth/twenty-first century western world, we no longer live in a society like that of early antiquity when almost all were believers of some sort and lived in a climate where faith in God or gods was almost universal.  To be a believing active Christian in our age was in itself becoming more rare.  And yet, and yet.... the thirst for things spiritual was very much in evidence, a thirst for a meaning to life beyond the excessive materialism and need for instant gratification so prevalent in our society at present. Many feel as though they are staring into an abyss.  Deep in the human psyche lies the longing for whatever we may mean by 'God' and many harbour a great fear that death might mean 'extinction'.  Deeper still lies this search for meaning.  For me it seemed that at least in part, the renewal of the eremitic life (life of a recluse in the desert tradition) in recent years was an aspect of this thirst. There was a sense of urgency that in a world that was changing so rapidly and seemingly intent on destroying itself, the times were urgent.  The counter-cultural intent of monasticism needed to regain its cutting edge.  So my move into solitude began to take shape."

(From p. 7 of "A Simplified Life" by Verena Schiller).

(An image from the area of rural Wales where Sister Verena lives, from an article about her located at: http://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2010/15-october/faith/solitary,-but-not-unguided).


Some may ask: "But what do people like Sister Verena do, really? Aren't they just seeking an escape from the world?"  My response is that they are living more deeply in the world than those of us who supposedly live in the "real world" can possibly imagine.  While we are working, playing, eating, or sleeping, there are modern day Desert Fathers and Mothers praying for you, me, and the whole world. They take no breaks or vacations from prayer.  It defines who they are - they could no more give up prayer than you or I could give up breathing.

The Church, particularly in the Western world, is in the midst of a transition, and we are struggling to figure out our place within a society where belief in God is an afterthought at best. As a part of that transition, I believe the Church needs to identify and lift up those people, few as they may be, who have a calling to live a life defined by prayer.  Their prayers will lift up those of us who struggle, who hurt, or who do not know of God's presence in their daily lives.  So, as they pray for us, we should pray for those called to that life as well, that God may give them the strength to pray without ceasing for the Church, the world, and all of creation.

Interior Silence (Monday Morning in the Desert)

As I have written about previously, I think it is important for Christians to experience intentional periods of silence (http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-spirituality-of-silence.html).  But peace and quiet is only one aspect of silence in the life of a Christian. 

Our thoughts can reflect the pace of modern society - our minds jump around from one subject to another, from subjects such as our "to do" list for the day, to mental images from our past, and thinking about news events we have learned about through the media.  So, even though we might be in a place where there is silence around us, we are not truly experiencing silence, because we lack interior silence.  Our racing minds can sometimes prevent us from being aware of the presence of God in our lives. 

A modern day monk who lives at St. Anthony's Monastery, in the deserts of Egypt, spoke about the difference between exterior and interior silence:

"First of all, there are kinds of silence.  There is silence and there is silence.  Silence can mean not speaking; you are going to stay in a place that is quiet.  This is helpful. It's nice to go into a nice forest or a nice garden where you are away from traffic and from talking with people, where you are away from the demands of the modern world.  But this is an exterior silence -- which helps you breathe slowly, to enjoy aesthetic pleasure, the beauty of creation -- but it is transient; it will not last. 

There is another type of silence, which is interior silence. Now this is much harder to find, but it is long-lasting.  For example, memories.  Here we are living in the desert; here I am living up there in the mountain.  For long periods of time -- two weeks, three weeks, one month -- I don't see any people.  I'm not committing sins of action daily.  I'm just sitting quietly and working and praying and being alone.  What about my mind? My mind can range everywhere.  If I don't have interior silence, I can be as busy in mind as if I were in New York."

(From pp. 34-35 of "Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer: Experiencing the Presence of God and a Pilgrimage to the Heart of an Ancient Spirituality" by Norris Chumley).

There is no magic pill which will get us to experience interior silence.  Ancient spiritual disciplines, such as lectio divina and praying the Jesus Prayer, are helpful practices - but our efforts, on their own, will not attain interior silence.  The kind of silence that helps us to become aware of God's presence around us is a gift - a gift we can ask for through prayer, and when it is received, we cannot take credit for it, but only give thanks.

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."