Being devoured

Jeremiah 31:1-14     1 Peter 5:5-11     Luke 15:1-10

 

"[Y]our adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." This portion of today's Epistle served as part of the short lesson at the Office of Compline in both the Roman and Monastic breviaries until their reform in recent decades. This exhortation to spiritual vigilance was one of the last things members of the clergy were to bear in mind as their work came to an end for the day. One of the reasons that monks have traditionally taken to keeping vigil in the night hours is that it is believed God's presence is particularly to be found in silence. It also allows them to be in solidarity with those whose occupations require them to work during the night hours, those who are unable to rest peacefully due to mental or physical illness, those who use the cover of darkness to perpetrate evil and those who are afraid of what the dawn will bring for them. Inasmuch as we are all called to be saints, according to First Corinthians 1:2 ("...to them that are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, with all that in every place call upon the name of Jesus Christ our Lord..."), here is a perfect example of the communion of the saints. The monks offer their prayer and sacrifice in union both with those who rejoice and those who are in trouble. Beautiful!


There are a couple of striking things in this selection from First St. Peter: the roaring lion and the use of the word "devour". Doing a bit of research, I discovered that lions only roar as part of a group. They tend to remain mostly silent if they are on their own. So the roar serves as a way to communicate with the other lions as well as a way to indicate to the others that they are staking a claim on a particular territory. In the context of today's Epistle, that is a rather frightening concept. We are reading here that Satan is working to stake a claim upon us. Ever since the disobedience of Original Sin evil gained a foothold among the creation of God. Friends, this is the situation that we are up against. And it is not just that the devil roars after us, but that he wishes to devour us. According to Webster's, the verb 'devour' means not just a ravenous consumption, but even "to seize upon and destroy...to annihilate." He does indeed wish that we be consumed by our sins, that our hearts overflow with pride and pleasure to the exclusion of all else. In that way, we will become more and more like him until finally the last spark of divine life is extinguished in us and we consign ourselves to the everlasting torments of our own decision for hell, where the love of God is a distant and loathsome remembrance and where we will be inescapably surrounded by other narcissists, the ultimate punishment for the self-absorbed. It is no wonder, then, that we cry out in The Litany: "[F]rom the crafts and assaults of the devil; from thy wrath, and from everlasting damnation, Good Lord deliver us."


In speaking of Jesus in today's Gospel, the Pharisees and scribes are heard to proclaim: "This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." Commenting on this reaction to Jesus, St. Gregory the Great says: "[I]n dryness of heart they rebuked the very fountain of mercy. But they were sick, so sick that they were unaware of it. To make them realize that they were sick, the heavenly physician tends them with a gentle remedy, laying before them this gracious parable." Indeed both of the people in this parable, the shepherd and the woman, have a great personal stake in finding what has been lost. If that is the case for things that have been entrusted to us, how much more so is it the case of the Lord God Who created us, sustains us in life and desires nothing more than that we allow ourselves to be loved by Him and to come into His presence for everlasting life? Contrast that with the schemes of the devil as he roars to proclaim our self destruction. The One gently draws us to Himself, never coercing. The other laughs at the pathetic way in which we despise the great gift of our Creator and pointlessly throw away our inheritance for a mess of suffering and eternal self-loathing.

So, it seems we have two options here: either acknowledging our need to be found or refusing to admit that there is even such a thing as being lost. To put this in the context of our own day, there has been much in the news lately about issues of 'gender identity'. Rather than seeing the symptoms as the manifestation of a deeper pathology in need of treatment, now woundedness is treated as a spectacle to be paraded around in order to strike awe and regard into the onlookers. Contrast that with Mark, chapter 2, vs. 1-5 (the healing of the paralytic who is let in through the roof by his friends). Four men are here giving necessary assistance to one who was sick, so much that he could not even move a great distance under his own power, let alone seek a remedy to what ailed him. With just this alone, there are at least two significant theological points to be discerned: 1. an overwhelmingly generous amount of assistance is available to the sick man and 2. he is just not able to do anything to help himself.

Think about that first point, then think about the Incarnation, the Cross and the Resurrection. "And the word was made flesh, and dwelt among us" (Jn. 1:14). This is the very essence of generosity. As to the second point, the sick man's helplessness, I think he is a perfect illustration of the teaching of Canon 19 of the Second Council of Orange: "That a man can be saved only when God shows mercy. Human nature, even though it remained in that sound state in which it was created, could by no means save itself, without the assistance of the Creator; hence since man cannot safe-guard his salvation without the grace of God, which is a gift, how will be be able to restore what he has lost without the grace of God?"

Finally, what a great grace that this sick man is willing to have his friends help him out. He needs help. He knows it. They are honest enough to accept his cry for help. He is willing to expose his need to those about him, trusting in their friendship and good will. That is a beautiful thing. In our own day, there is certainly plenty of opportunity for 'self-exposure'. Whether it is Facebook or Twitter, blogs or newspapers, there is a great compulsion to reveal (however carefully edited) our neediness. What is lacking, however, is the desire to have anything done about it. There is a perverse need to proclaim to anyone who is listening: 'look at my disfigurement, isn't it horrific? And it's all mine.'

In our Church bulletin during Lent, there was an insert that read, in part: "God loves us enough to accept us as we are, but too much to leave us as we are." Thus, the sick man in this narrative lends a good example and stands in stark contrast to the cultivated selfishness that is so much on display now. Let me just say that I am in no way intending to cast aspersions on particular individuals. What is truly called for, as evidenced by the Prodigal Son, is honesty and compassion; meeting people where they are at, but not being content to leave them there.

"Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." (Lk. 15:10) Do you know what follows immediately upon today's selection from St. Luke? The story of the Prodigal Son. It clearly illustrates in depth what Jesus is trying to get across to His hearers by means of the two preceeding examples and it is a lesson in the necessity of self-awareness. "This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." So the question is, do we take this as a complaint in the manner of the scribes and Pharisees in today's Gospel (which is the attitude as well of the older brother) or do we take this as an opportunity (as both the father and the younger son do)? Are we going to be needlessly devoured and consumed, put on display for all the world to see our disfigurement? Or shall we rather embrace the Cross, not as an end in itself, but as the means to give us our bearings, to give purpose to our wounds, to call us to obedience to the Father Who loves us, to save us from devouring ourselves in the sight of a deceitful master who only wants us to spite the One he decisively rejected long ago. Yes, indeed – the Lord Jesus receives sinners and eats with us. And thank God for that.

Once more, in the words of Fr. Henri Nouwen: "It might sound strange, but God wants to find me as much as, if not more than, I want to find God....[He] is not the patriarch who stays home, doesn't move, and expects his children to come to him, apologize for their aberrant behaviour, beg for forgiveness, and promise to do better. To the contrary, he leaves the house, ignoring his dignity by running toward them, pays no heed to apologies and promises of change, and brings them to the table richly prepared for them. I am beginning now to see how radically the character of my spiritual journey will change when I no longer think of God as hiding out and making it as difficult as possible for me to find him, but, instead, as the one who is looking for me while I am doing the hiding."

In summary then, from the Old Testament lesson at today's morning prayer: "The Lord hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee....For the Lord hath redeemed Jacob, and ransomed him from the hand of him that was stronger than he." (Jer. 31: 3, 11)

For Whitsunday

“Jesus said unto his disciples: If ye love me, keep my commandments” (Jn. 14:15). 

Something to think about today is the cultivation of the spiritual life, more specifically the idea of 'purity of heart' which is near and dear to the Christian monastic tradition from its very beginnings. You cannot serve God without a measure of self-control, and you cannot attain self-mastery apart from the grace of God. It is something that the Fathers of the Church understood to be indispensable to the spiritual life. They were given to understand their own weaknesses in the light of Divine purity clearly enough that they fled to the desert, either temporarily or permanently, to do battle with their demons and free their hearts to give themselves entirely to God. One of the early masters, Evagrius Ponticus, describes for us the gift of fear of the Lord in the context of the desert: “The fear of God strengthens faith, my son, and continence in turn strengthens this fear. Patience and hope make this latter virtue solid beyond all shaking and they also give birth to apatheia.”

The Greek term apatheia, or purity of heart, can be understood to include both moral and spiritual self-control. It is a virtue as well as a way of being and it is inseparable from the instruction in the Gospel to keep the commandments of God. As the desert Fathers were in it for the long haul, so are we. But instead of exposure to the harsh reality of the desert, our demons have many places to hide and disguise themselves in our bustle of activity. That is where the grace of the Holy Ghost is all the more necessary to us. In some ways, those of us 'in the world' face a much steeper climb on the road that is apatheia than those who have embraced the monastic life. Another take on this idea can be found in a sermon of Pope Gregory the Great, who offers us a helpful metaphor as well:

Whosoever abandoneth himself to unlawful desires, such an one plainly loveth not God, for thereby he setteth himself against God's good pleasure. Note the words: And my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him. Think, dearly beloved brethren, what a dignity it is, to have God abiding as a guest in our hearts. Surely if some rich man, or some powerful friend, were to come into our house, we would hasten to have the whole house cleaned, lest perchance when he came in, he should see aught to displease his eye. So let him that would make ready his soul as an abode for God, cleanse it from all the filth of evil works. (St. Gregory the Great, Homily 30 on the Gospel of St. John).

By the time we mature to the point of actively cultivating apatheia in our conversion, we are then able to make a true beginning in the spiritual life, as the desert fathers understood it. Everything that came before was simply by way of preparation, or house cleaning if you like. We may in fact spend a lifetime in the preparatory phases, but that’s okay. God is always generous enough to take us where we are at, and not where we (or others) might think we should be, and He knows that not all are able or intended to reach the heights of contemplation. And...we should depend on the grace of the Holy Spirit received at our baptism and confirmation. We can depend on it, always.

Let me follow this up with another quotation, this time from John Henry Newman:

Let us but consider how we have fallen from the light and grace of our Baptism. Were we now what that Holy Sacrament made us, we might ever 'go on our way rejoicing;' but having sullied our heavenly garments, in one way or other, in a greater or less degree (God knoweth and our own consciences too in a measure), alas! the Spirit of adoption has in part receded from us, and the sense of guilt, remorse, sorrow, and penitence must take His place. We must renew our confession, and seek afresh our absolution day by day, before we dare call upon God as 'our Father,' or offer up Psalms and Intercessions to Him. And, whatever pain and affliction meets us through life, we must take it as a merciful penance imposed by a Father upon erring children, to be borne meekly and thankfully, and as intended to remind us of the weight of that infinitely greater punishment, which was our desert by nature, and which Christ bore for us on the Cross (Newman, The Indwelling Spirit, sermon 19).

 

So, the quest for purity of heart, apatheia, is not a one-time deal. Neither is it always easy. But, we have been given all the resources that we need. God is not outdone in generosity, we see that time and again, cogently in the story of the first Christian Pentecost that was read in the Epistle this morning. This past week, in the course of receiving some spiritual direction, I was told that people often don't realise just how good and generous God is to us. As we read in the alternate Gospel given in the Prayer Book for today: “If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?”  

“Jesus said unto his disciples: If ye love me, keep my commandments.”

The Jesus Prayer

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

This is a prayer, not only of personal contrition, but also of: glorification, thanksgiving and supplication. More here. (Editorial note: ignore the comments there as they have been the victim of spam.)

An Easter sermon

Christ is Risen!

Do you hear the full import of those words, as spoken to us in the course of today's Liturgy? From the first lesson at morning prayer today, the prophet Isaiah says: "For thou hast made of a city an heap; of a defenced city a ruin: a palace of strangers to be no city; it shall never be built." (Is. 25:2) Since the Fall of mankind in the commission of Original Sin, we have built up many needless edifices. Out of self-generated fear, our forebears in the garden became ashamed to show themselves to the God who created them and knew them better than they knew themselves. To the civilising Law of Moses costly and useless personal burdens were added. The worship of the Temple, intended to be on behalf of the entire nation of Israel, became impossible without the exchange of currency. The glory of the Messiah was replaced with the poverty of human conceptions; no longer an emissary of the very life of God, but a political or a military leader who would do nothing more than improve conditions here on earth for a select few.

 

Way back on the second Sunday in Lent, the bulletin insert contained the following commentary on the Epistle: "God loves us enough to accept us as we are, but too much to leave us as we are." And indeed, the Law of Moses and the rites of the Temple were not only fulfilled but surpassed in the Upper Room, on Calvary, and in the empty tomb on the third day. What was destroyed were any fallible conceptions that had been added to these things and which did nothing but discredit the practice of religion and veil the covenant that God Himself had given to us. Thus we read: "And he will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and the vail that is spread over all nations." (Is. 25:7) And yet, how often are we tempted still to veil our faith? In a long string of "what ifs", "I don't knows" and "if onlys" our own poverty is exposed and our hope is hidden. But, our worry really is quite needless. All of these things have already been taken care of. "For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress." (Is. 25:4a)

 

Consider what has been done for us. From an ancient, anonymous homily on Holy Saturday: "For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden....I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you."

 

This is quite earthy, dramatic imagery, but it corresponds exactly with the passion, death and descent into the place of departed spirits that Jesus undertook. And this is exactly what St. Paul is exhorting us to this morning. "For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." (Col. 3:3) I don't know about you, but whenever I find myself at a graveside, the first thing that comes to mind isn't: this is great, how fortunate we are to be here! A grave is not a nice place. It is dirty, cold and confined. Neither is a cross. It is both physically and psychologically mortifying, meant to make death as ugly as possible. But these terrible things have been truly converted. The veil of uncertainty, anguish and despair is now permanently torn away. For, you see, our God has the uncanny ability to turn that which is hideous and filled with death into something perfectly beautiful and lifegiving. And just as our Lord Jesus Christ passed through the Cross into the Resurrection, so are we, of our very nature as Christian people, called to do likewise. In the words of St. Gregory Nazianzen: "Let a man give all things to him who gave himself for us as the price of redemption and as the substitute of our guilt. Nothing so great, however, can be given in return, as the offering of ourselves, if we rightly understand this mystery, and if we, for his sake, become all things, whatsoever he for our sakes became."

 

After all this, the beauty of our false constructions being torn away and the conversion of death into the way of eternal life, I admit that I find the Gospel selection for the principle service today somewhat more subdued than I think it ought to be. There is not the great proclamation of faith, 'My Lord and my God!', that Thomas will make later on during the course of the Liturgy. There is the fact that only the Beloved Disciple seems to have had immediate faith in the Resurrection. There is the troubling fact that we are told "as yet they knew not the scripture, that he must rise again from the dead." Mary Magdalen immediately assumes the worst, that someone has removed the body. The whole scene is almost too anti-climactic. What we won't hear liturgically is that Mary has remained behind and questions the man she assumes to be the gardener who in fact is the only one able to comfort her sorrow and reveal the truth of the situation.

 

"Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord." What a tremendous relief it is to read those words. The faith of the Beloved Disciple is confirmed. The other Apostles are awakened to at least the possibility that what they had learned and received from Jesus were not in fact the ravings of a madman, but the truth of the living God.

 

And that, my friends, really speaks to the heart of why we are here doing what we do and believing what we believe. From the ancient Baals, to the fickle and self-serving deities of Mt. Olympus, from the humane wisdom of Confucius to the obedience demanded by Allah, right down to our own day where numerous self-declared atheists have rejected an anthropomorphic parody of God; none of these objects of our fear and devotion have ever spoken to the deepest need of the human heart, which is to hear: "I love you" from one who actually means it. Only in Jesus Christ, while He healed and preached, drove out demons and welcomed sinners, gave of Himself at the Last Supper and on Calvary, when He rose again and appeared to His first friends, has our God declared His love for us and shown us what it really means.

 

And so it is most chiefly in these things, but also every day that we are privileged to draw in the breath of life, both when we are filled with great faith and during those moments of crushing despair and fear of what is unknown, that we are able to "[b]ehold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us." Again, from that same ancient homily: "Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity." And if all that sounds too good to be true, way beyond our deserving, we have only to read again II Peter 1:4, "Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust." As our need was indeed beyond our condition to repair, so the remedy freely given is ten thousand times beyond our wildest imaginings. And it is not begrudgingly given, but generously. So ought it to be received in the hearts of all believers. "It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found."

Christ is Risen!

Brother Paphnutius - an ongoing parable (Part II)

"[T]hou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these."  (Mark 12: 30-31)

366 A.D. - elsewhere in Egypt

Since our last encounter, Br. Paphnutius has temporarily left his cave in order to secure some more supplies: reeds for making baskets, water, a fresh supply of coffee and some more papyrus. But he is never very happy about having to leave and would prefer to stay at home. You take quite a chance going out your front door in the morning. There is the opportunity to hear something edifying or perform a work of charity, but there is also the opportunity to criticise or look down on someone or to say something imprudent that you will regret later.

While buying necessities in Alexandria, Br. Paphnutius always stays with the brethren of the Sfeerspons* Skete. Their community is located right in the middle of town so it is not always the quietest place, particularly during harvest time. As you might expect, some (most?) of the monks there are not exactly thrilled with their current living arrangements. However, as they still have 15 more years left on their mortgage and the market for purchasing a monastery on a short sale just isn't there, the disgruntled brethren are stuck.

The first morning of Br. Paphnutius' present stay, the above quote from St. Mark's Gospel was included in the Vigil Office that day. Always a good reminder of the humility that we ought to cultivate at all times, it is particularly apt for those who aspire to holiness under vows. So you can imagine his surprise when, every day at noon, the brethren of Sfeerspons Skete appeared at their front gate and gave a collective (and loud!) "SHH!" to the townsfolk, then immediately returned to their enclosure.

Later, when he had a chance to speak with the abbot, Br. Paphnutius asked (per his usual custom in as few words as possible) about this strange occurence. "Oh?!" said the abbot. "I thought that was just some new mechanical device in the town making that noise. I need to see this for myself."

So the next day at noon Br. Paphnutius and the abbot of Sfeerspons Skete were waiting at the front gate when the brethren appeared just like clockwork for their daily (apparently unauthorised!) ritual. The abbot was horrified. In his former life, Br. Paphnutius would have laughed, but now he regards any act of selfishness and needless criticism as something to be mourned.

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Editorial comment: This is a ridiculous story, but it is intended to make a serious point.

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Some days later, as he was preparing to return home, Br. Paphnutius came to say goodbye to the abbot and noticed that the Skete was strangely quiet(er than usual). Upon asking the abbot about it (again, in as few words as possible), he was told that the entire community was sent out to apologise personally for their intrusions into the life of the town and each monk was to spend the night with a family to see what their lives were like and to appreciate their circumstances more. The abbot hoped that this would bring about a bit more compassion in the jaded brethren and that they would learn to thrive in the midst of the messiness (and sometimes noisiness) of everyday human life.

The moral of (this part) of the story: We do indeed love ourselves quite enough. We live with our own needs, wants and desires so intimately that it seems only natural that they should take the highest priority. What Jesus says here is that we are commanded to bear in mind that everyone else is in the same situation and the needs of others will sometimes (often?) press against our own. Not only is that okay, it is one of the beneficial things about living here this sometimes messy, noisy human life where not everything goes "according to plan" and life is "interrupted" by other people making their own noise and their own mess. And...that is a good thing!

To be continued...

* Dutch: party pooper (lit. "atmosphere sponge") 

Continuing on from the previous post...

I am posting below another excerpt from the commentary on Mark's Gospel that I am working on (still chapter 1). I am particularly interested in getting feedback on this part. What do you think? Is the point well made? Lacking focus? Too negative? Just right? All of the above? None of the above?

Also, I am thinking about the next installment of Br. Paphnutius, but not quite sure where it is going yet.

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And at even, when the sun did set, they brought unto him all that were diseased, and them that were possessed with devils. And all the city was gathered together at the door. And he healed many that were sick of divers diseases, and cast out many devils; and suffered not the devils to speak, because they knew him. (vs. 32-34)

There is on the internet something called "Yahoo Answers" and, as the name implies, it is a forum where you can ask questions and pose observations that anyone is free to reply to. As you can imagine, it is quite the cross-section of contemporary western culture. (I find it quite fascinating from a sociological point of view.) There are all the usual things you would expect: kids asking for homework help (or hoping you will just do their assignment for them), automotive questions, dating and relationship quandries, political debates and, of course, religious discussions.

When it comes to religion, specifically Christianity, there are an awful lot of terms bandied about with what I imagine is a rather limited comprehesion of what they really (or what the questioner imagines them to) mean. Words like "sin", "God", "hell", and "atheism" just to name a few. Invariably, the thrust of the argument runs something akin to: this doesn't make any sense to me, therefore it couldn't possibly be true, therefore it is not so.

I fear that so much damage has been done in the name of "religion" (which I am here contrasting with authentic, informed Christian belief), that some people have been pemanently scarred by it. "God", for them, can be a grumpy old man in the sky, a distant (and useless) mental construct or simply the supervisor of His fearsome spokesmen in pulpits everywhere where actual Christianity is exchanged for politics, race-baiting, gender concerns, sexual orientation or any of a whole host of other 'gods' to be worshipped, feared or rejected as the case may be. (This always puts me in mind of Psalm 138:1, which says "I will praise thee with my whole heart: before the gods will I sing praise unto thee." Who are the gods of today? Well, Mt. Olympus may have been vacated, but just look at the tabloids, the evening news, the self-help section of your local bookstore or celebrity marketing campaigns and you will find just about everything being offered for worship, consumption or rejection.)

We really do need to start over again and re-teach what Christianity actually is. And these verses from St. Mark are a good case in point. Rumour spread about what Jesus had done and look what happens. He becomes a consumer commodity, a healing/exorcism factory. Now I don't mean to paint with too broad a brush and imply that everyone who came to Him in these verses had the same attitude. But no doubt there were many who did, and who continue to do so today.

And whether it is due to misconceptions, scandal at the poor behaviour or bizarre beliefs of other Christians (and "christians") or simply to personal ignorance, I would say to anyone who has declared themselves to be an atheist: I probably don't believe in the god that you have rejected either. What you fear and imagine God to be, that is certainly not the One encountered in the Scriptures, in the teaching of the orthodox Fathers, in those among us here on earth who are already so in love with God that they manifest the charity of heaven here and now.

And if you say to me: where do I even begin? I would say: right here. I started this book in order to perhaps make the Christian religion a little more accessible. The Gospel of Mark is short. It can be read in a matter of days with little effort. And, it tells you everything you need to know without getting in to more advanced theology.

And if you are gun-shy about attending a Church, I can't say that I blame you. Some are as bad as they seem, some go about doing and believing that which is essential without trumpeting their achievements, some are filled with the self-righteous, some are filled with the actually righteous.

But there is something so essential to community, something hard-wired in to us as humans to depend on each other in relationship, that it is almost impossible to 'go it alone' (excepting, of course, those with the privileged vocation to be hermits). So if what you have tried doesn't work, go somewhere else. Keep looking, praying that you be lead where you need to be. Be open, but wary, at the same time. But, wherever you are at, don't forget that Jesus loves you. He wants you to come to Him alone. He has already done all the work that needs to be done in order to gain eternal life. He sees your wounds and doesn't hold them against you. He knows you better than you know yourself. He is ready to give you everything that you need in this life, but not everything that you think you want. He only asks one thing, that you let yourself be a recipient of His grace.* He does not ask anything from you but yourself. And there it is again, our own need stands starkly exposed. Once again the strength of a relationship will be tested. [This is referring to a previous section where I talk about how it is often easier to be generous to others than it is to ask for their generosity toward us in our own needs. It compels us to test the waters as it were, to see where we really stand in relation to those we call friends. And that can be a risky thing, frought with fear and uncertainty. What if what is actually there is not what I imagined or desired it to be?] But there is no need to fear. Others may disappoint, but He can handle it.

*Even that itself is of God. While it is true that we are free to make decisions, that does not mean that we can do so in and of ourselves (a heresy called semi-pelagianism).The very desire for God comes from God Himself. He gives us the grace to will to come to Him, but that does not make the choice any less our own. As has been said elsewhere, God's foreknowledge does not in any way lessen our own freedom.



Something new

In the spirit of a new year, I have decided to try something new as well. In the same manner and spirit as these blog posts and other things I have produced, I am working on a book-length commentary on the Gospel of St. Mark. What follows is a part of what will become chapter 1. It is by no means a scholarly effort, but rather a way to look behind the text and flesh out some ideas. Let me know what you think.

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The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God; As it is written in the prophets, Behold, I send my messenger before thy face, which shall prepare thy way before thee. They voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. John did baptize in the wilderrness, and preach the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins. (vs. 1-4)

The English word "Gospel" is derived from the Greek "εύαγγέλιου" meaning "good news". Thus we have here the beginning of the fulfillment of the Old Testament in Jesus Christ. The great disobedience perpetrated in the Garden of Eden and the subsequent expulsion of mankind from paradise is now to be undone in the ultimate act of obedience and generosity that is the Incarnation.

Referencing both past and present, a call has gone out to all those who will listen and who have their eyes and ears and hearts attuned to what the Lord God is saying. The time of preparation is about to be fulfilled.

Two references from the Old Testament here are Isaiah 40:3 ("The voice of him that crieth in the wildeness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.") and the idea of God appearing "before thy face". Think of Moses on Mt. Sinai, but especially here of Elijah, particularly I Kings 19:1-17. No doubt, as seen previously, challenging things are in store for the one who has been called. At the very least when reading these verses, we ought to bear in mind Moses leading the people through the wilderness. Unlike us, however, he was only allowed to look upon the Promised Land before he died. So the Good News for us is that we are indeed allowed to cross over into all that the Christian life has to offer.

Having incurred the wrath of Jezebel (I Kings 19:2), Elijah flees into the wilderness and begs the Lord to take his life. Acknowledging that things have been and indeed will be difficult, the angel of the Lord brings him nourishment. Right here is a shadow of the sacramental system to be inaugurated in the New Testament for the use of the Church. As Elijah was twice nourished by the gift of God, so we both at the very beginning of our Christian lives are refreshed by Baptism and at regular intervals are provided with Holy Communion for "the strengthening and refreshing of our souls by the Body and Blood of Christ"(1928 American BCP Catechism, p. 582).

As we will see in chapter 6, the fate of the voice in the wilderness is as likely as not to be martyrdom. For in the desert, which is a place hostile to all but the hardiest life, nothing superfluous can survive. That is why the early monastics fled to the deserts, in order to burn away their selfishness and pretence, to be purified in an arid place where only what is essential will survive. Thus it is a highly symbolic place that can effect what it signifies.

So already in these opening verses we are told that there is Good News here, that what was long fortold will come to pass. In Moses, Elijah and John the Baptist the Christian life is referenced in both its sacramental and sacrificial aspects. We know where we are going, but cannot get there without passing through death to eternal life. It will be a difficult go, but we are given very real helps to sustain us. It will cost us something dear in terms of our own identity, our relationships with other people or institutions and it may even cost us our lives. This is the Good News we have now been introduced to.



Illuminated manuscripts

Christ Enthroned from the Book of Kells

 

 

The beginning of the Gospel of St. Matthew from the Lindisfarne Gospels

 

Brother Paphnutius - an ongoing parable (Part I)

"Let not your hearts be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also." (John 14: 1-3)

Wandering around and needless worry

365 A.D. - somewhere in the Egyptian desert

Brother Paphnutius has been a monk for over 40 years now. People assumed that he had it all together, knew what he was talking about (at least on those few occasions he actually spoke, which accounts for why this narrative is mostly third person) and felt settled in to his way of life. Perhaps not...

At the age of twenty, after he had finished his education and renouncing a promising career in government service, he decided to become a monk. So he found a community willing to take him in and teach him, packed up his possessions (just the bare essentials: a psalter, some clothing, french press and coffee grinder – after all, we're talking about some early morning prayer and the religious life is designed to be difficult, not impossible!) and off he went.

Everything seemed fine, just what he had expected. But for some reason, the abbot grew quite displeased at Br. Paphnutius. He would not say why, just some general platitudes about not engaging the way of life as it was lead there. At this time the still inexperienced novice monk was unaware that not everyone is a square peg and that not every situation is a square hole and, most importantly, that this is actually a good thing. The abbot of that particular community just couldn't get past trying to squeeze everyone into exactly the same shape. So Paphnutius, blaming himself, decided to leave.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, and, unfortunately, didn't bother to seek counsel from anyone but himself. (Editorial note: here is a dangerous situation, one where it becomes tempting to fall into the trap of always asking 'what if...' What if I go here instead? What if my situation improves somewhere else? Living with other people? Doing a different job? I seem to remember hearing something about greener grass and the other side, but I digress...)

"For God is not a God of confusion but of peace." (1 Cor. 14:33)

Some years had passed after that experience and Brother Paphnutius had run the gamet of human experience, even finding himself on the cusp of getting married. And through these experiences, he was gradually weaned off of asking himself the wrong questions: where ought I to be (as if there were only one answer) and what ought I to be doing (as if it were only one thing)? Rather, he learned to be like the Prophet Isaiah, saying instead: "Here am I! Send me."

"Not all those who wander are lost" (J.R.R. Tolkien)

The moral of (this part of) the story: We worry so much about being in the right place, knowing the right people, doing the right things, having everything planned out to the last perfected detail. There is an almost pathological fear that can pervade our whole existence, as if we were walking on the narrowest tightrope and one false move will bring instant destruction.

Br. Paphnutius came to see clearly (well, he will eventually) that it was okay that what he had originally planned didn't work out the way that he expected it to. He needed to experience this and then go elsewhere to see it as such, a lesson he might never have uncovered had he not trusted enough to deviate from his original course.

So many great things can come when we least expect them. Certainly it is right to make plans, follow through on things and use our God-given intellect to the best of our ability. But...life is not always (nor do I believe it was ever intended to be) quite so cut and dry. We have to adapt, be flexible, not get so attached to what we think we want...in a word, we have to accept our humanity and live it out as it is.

In the opening quote from St. John, Jesus tells us that we can trust Him and He indeed has prepared a place for us. And that is a comforting thought, dispelling all confusion and allowing us to live our lives in a trustful manner.

To be continued...

Revelation 21: 5a

"And he who sat upon the throne said, 'Behold, I make all things new'."

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How often nowadays are we told of the virtues of something being new, fresh or contemporary in contrast with former things as old, traditional or stale? This is not to say that newness is bad, unless perhaps it is the only quality considered worthy of (serious) discussion.

And yet, newness is not really something that is naturally attractive. The earthly ministry of Jesus was something very new in a lot of ways. And yet, because of the all-encompassing demand of Jesus that those who believe in Him are to take up their cross and follow Him (remembering all the places He has been), it took time, patience, miracles and grace to cement the twelve apostles into their new post-Pentecost identity as Christians.

Change is hard. Habits that are formed quickly can take a long time to be broken. Today while I was speaking with my spiritual father during the course of my regular confession, I mentioned something that is an habitual struggle for me (being too self-absorbed, not always being present enough to those around me). As part of his counsel, he advised me to consider the separation of the sheep and the goats from St. Matthew's Gospel (ch. 25: 31-46), paying particular attention (unlike the condemned in this narrative) to 'the least of these'. He then challenged me to think of where they show up in my own life and to reflect on that in the context of the Lord's Prayer, particularly "Thy will be done".

That is a petition that Christian people are wont to make on a regular basis. But do we really mean it? Do we see the full import of what we are asking for? It is indeed a petition for newness, for the sloughing off of the old man and the putting on of the new. (cf. Colossians 3:9-10)

Like so much else in this post-modern life of ours, there is the danger of seeing this as a one-time, binary process (going from being switched off to switched on) that isn't repeated. But that is not the case.

Life is a continual conversion, and it does not simply take place in the head or the heart (a contemporary form of gnosticism), but involves the whole of the human person. And it happens every day. It is axiomatic of the spiritual life that we are either progressing or regressing, there is no standing still. It is this forward movement that the desert fathers and those who follow in their tradition are seeking through their spiritual practices.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning". (Lam. 3: 22-23a)

There they are, just waiting for you to receive. But no one is forcing your hand, that is the way of love. And they are new, which can be both a great relief (I'm not too late, I didn't miss out on anything) and a bit frightening (I need to be honest with myself that in the past I have fallen short and am in great need). But there they are nonetheless.

Peace.