Christmas Sequence



Faithful people,*
 Sweeten all your song with gladness.
 Alleluia.

Matchless maiden
 Bringeth forth the Prince of princes:
 O! the marvel.

 

Virgin compasseth a man,
 Yea, the angel of the plan:
 Star the Dayspring.

 

Day that sunset shall not close,
 Star that light on all bestows,
 Ever cloudless.

 

As the star, light crystalline,
 Mary hath a Son divine
 In her likeness.

 

Star that shining grows not dim,
 Nor his Mother, bearing him,
 Less a maiden.

 

The great tree of Lebanon
 Hyssop's lowliness puts on
 In our valley;

 

And the Word of God Most High
 Self-imprisoned doth lie
 In our body.

 

So Isaias sang of old,
 So the Synagogue doth hold,
 But the sunrise finds her cold
 Hard and blinded.

 

Of her own she will not mark,
 Let her to the gentiles hark;
 For the Sybil's verses dark
 Tell of these things.

 

Make haste, O luckless one,
 Give ear to the saints bygone:
 Why perish utterly,
 O race undone?

 

He whom thy seers foretell
 Born is in Israel:
 Mary's little Son, O mark him well.
 Alleluia.

*(This version is found on Liturgialatina.org)

For a brief overview of the Liturgical Sequence, click here.

Three words of sin and redemption

Attending this morning's Ember Day Mass, I was struck by three words in the General Confession: "We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, Which we, from time to time, most grievously have committed, By thought, word, and deed".

Thought, word and deed. Herein is the source, the very agency of conception and act, of our sins. Which of them have not first been conceived of in the mind, either willingly or by force of habit? Which of them have not either been spoken*, spoken of, or committed with the body?

If then these three are the agency of our sins, God, acting in perfect harmony with His plan of redemption (and in the same way as He takes death and makes it the key to eternal life via the Cross), does indeed call forth our healing through a total conversion of these very things and employs the self-same faculties to effect our repentance and conversion. Again, in our thoughts we conceive of (and are granted) sorrow and repentance within the metaphorical vehicle of our emotions - the heart. By our words and deeds, we express our contrition and our resolve to do better. These things that were formerly a conveyance of sin and death, now become a vehicle of faith and life. Beautiful!


*Speaking of words, I think that so-called "curse" words really are, in and of themselves (and not just in specific contexts or incidences) bad things. Consider the power of the word, spoken and conceived. We see both in Genesis and in the Gospel of John that the Word, spoken by God, bears in its very nature both creative and redemptive power. It is perfectly efficacious.We also, who bear the image and likeness of our Creator, in our ability to conceive of and communicate ideas that are understood by those who share our language and frame of reference, have been given a participation in this power; it is one that allows us to create and destroy.

What happens when you tell your spouse, your child or your friend "I love you"? Do not these three words have the power to build, nurture and sustain that relationship? On the other hand, what happens when you tell someone "I hate you"? Not only do those words destroy a relationship and something of another person (whether or not they admit to it) they also destroy something within the life of the one who utters them. This is confirmed in Matthew 15:18: "[T]hose things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man."

Pantokrator

Kontakion: O Master, Guide to wisdom, Giver of prudent counsel, Instructor of the foolish and Champion of the poor, make firm my heart and grant it understanding. O Word of the Father, give me words, for see, I shall not stop my lips from crying out to Thee: I am fallen, in Thy compassion have mercy on me.

A season of forgiveness

In the Eastern Churches, the Sunday before Great Lent is celebrated with, among other things, Forgiveness Vespers. Though the foregoing is somewhat out of season, the Roman rite with its liturgical use of violet and suspension of the use of the "Gloria in excelsis" during seasonal Masses does give the time of Advent a penitential character too. As well, we are in the midst of the winter Ember Days that occur on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday this week when we are minded to fast and pray for the ministry of the Church.

With all that in mind, I wish now to ask forgiveness of all those to whom I have ever caused offense: by things which I said or did and things which I left undone or unsaid out of laziness or cowardice. If I have judged you or expected too much or too little from you, if I have been too focused on myself and not seen to your needs, if I have made of you an object for my own emotional consumption or satisfaction, I am truly sorry. It may not mean much to you (if you ever read this), but I will try to do better.

"Sacred Reading" ch. 4, vs. 24-25

 And he said unto them, Take heed what ye hear: with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you: and unto you that hear shall more be given. For he that hath, to him shall be given: and he that hath not, from him shall be taken even that which he hath. (vs. 24-25)

Some years ago I had a co-worker who had a rather difficult upbringing that involved a certain degree of emotional abuse. One of the problems of constantly being told that you are not good enough and a worthless person is that you begin to believe it and then act accordingly.

This young lady, who was a self-described Christian, was quite taken with the popular notion of getting one's comeuppance that is the modern, western notion of karma. Instead of a punative re-incarnation, those deserving of punishment and retribution are now left to the disposition of God's judgment Who will surely "give them what they deserve."

A couple of issues with this: 1. it is a rather one-sided conception that can be motivated by nothing more than the desire for revenge on the part of those who feel powerless and 2. a replacement image is not necessarily the same as a complete "baptism" of outside conceptions into a genuinely Christian framework.

But I understand why people are attracted to this way of thinking. It is a psychological refuge for the damaged and powerless, it is a way to absolve ourselves of some of the hard work of forgiveness, and it allows us to feel justified for dragging around the burden of our emotional baggage and letting others live rent-free inside our heads. Haven't the squatters in your brain made enough of a mess? They've been there long enough. It's well past time to kick them out, realise just how much you are indeed worth to the Father Who created you and loves you enough to call you to faith in Him each and every moment of your life and get on with living a life of true freedom.

Easier said than done, I realise. But at the same time, instead of depending on a falsely "christianised karma", this is the life we work at and struggle to attain as children of the living God.

For November 8th, 2015

"I will give thanks unto thee, O Lord, with my whole heart; even before the gods will I sing praise unto thee." (Ps. 138:1)

Today, aside from being the 23^rd Sunday after Trinity, is also the Octave Day of All Saints. You will notice that the Book of Common Prayer directs that the Collect and Preface of All Saints are "to be used daily throughout the Octave." Certain Feast Days throughout the Christian year are considered so important that their celebration was extended over a period of eight days. There is indeed Biblical precedent for such a practice. From the 1913 edition of the Catholic Encyclopedia: "The eighth day was the day of circumcision. The feast of the Tabernacles, which as we have said lasted seven days, was followed on the eighth by a solemnity which may be considered as an octave; the eighth day was the day of certain sacrifices. It was on the eighth day, too, that the feast of the dedication of the Temple under Soloman, and of its purifications under Ezechias, concluded."

Today is also, for the western rite Orthodox, the Feast of the Patriarchs and Prophets of the Old Law. The Collect given for this day is as follows: "O God, who didst show forth the divine wisdom in ancient times through thy Patriarchs and Prophets; grant that we may imitate their example on earth and enjoy their intercession in heaven." Now, whether you believe that the saints in heaven are able to intercede for those of us here on earth or not, this prayer makes clear something very important, that the Old Testament and its portrayal of God, far from being rendered useless and of lesser divine status by the Incarnation and the Resurrection of Christ (a heresy known as Marcionism), is in fact the fertile ground out of which these earth and sin-shattering events occured. Those that participated in the preparatory events of the Old Covenant are indeed worthily honoured by us as they laid the foundation of right belief and relationship to God in their considered obedience to His commands. So it seems clear that the life and witness of the saints is something pretty significant within the life of the Church.

Which then begs the question, just who are "the saints"? Romans 1:7 and I Corinthians 1:2 give us an answer. Hopefully it won't be surprising to you. "To all that be in Rome, beloved of God, called to be saints: Grace to you and peace from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ." and "Unto the church of God which is at Corinth, 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."

Rather than just being limited to a list of those formally enrolled ( or "canonised") by the Church, all faithful Christian believers everywhere are, and are called to be, saints. To this great dignity, we can only respond with the Apostle John: "See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are." (1 John 3:1a)

The first verse of Psalm 138, which I quoted above, gives us a good idea of what the parameters of our sainthood ought to be. There are two things specified in this verse: the giving of genuine thanks in all circumstances and the witness of our resistance to the various 'gods' of this world.

Firstly, the psalmist says that he (and we in turn) will give thanks with the whole heart. It can be easy for this to sound awfully off-putting, for there are days when we simply cannot conjure up feelings of thankfulness, no matter how much effort is expended in the process. And yet, I don't think this is really the kind of thankfulness that is being presented here. Anything that requires that much mental effort to dig up out of the psyche and try to sustain in being seems to loose at least something of its authenticity.

Rather, I believe that the thankfulness we pray for here has a more universal, wholistic or catholic, quality to it. It is the kind of thankfulness that comes from persistence through things that we suffer (be they physical, emotional, or what have you). It is the kind of thankfulness that appears on the other side of our victories over bad habits and besetting sins. And, it is the kind of thankfulness which can even manifest as gratitude that we sinners are sometimes allowed to persist in our sinfulness for a time. There are indeed personal insights into our spiritual and psychological health that sinful habits and the process by which they are overcome can provide – which helps to make sense of St. Paul's writing in Romans 5, where he says: "But where sin abounded, grace did much more abound: That as sin hath reigned unto death, even so might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord."

Not just a disjointed, once-in-a-while phenomenon, thankfulness from the heart is an on-going, perpetual project for us who are among those "called to be saints".

Secondly, the psalmist mentions the praise he gives "before the gods." Osiris, Zeus, Saturn, Apollo and Diana may have been dethroned along with the other occupants of the ancient pagan pantheon, but we have certainly established plenty of replacements for them ever since. Just about anything that consumes our desires and demands our total attention is indeed a god of the modern age: the desire for great wealth and influence, addictions of all sorts (whose devotees over time pay the price of having even their free-will taken away from them), violence and war-mongering (whether in the name of politics, religion, or other causes).

And so are we called by the psalmist to give thanks and praise before all these things that will vie for our affection. Indeed, they are all forms of violence inasmuch as they seek to forcibly remove the great gifts of faith, hope and charity that the one God, living and true, has placed in our hearts.

The place in which these gods are rejected and where these things will suffer defeat is very near and dear to us. In the words of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the 20^th century Russian historian and philosopher: "The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between political parties either – but right through every human heart."

Everything within us that is still on the opposite side of the line, and our desire and prayer to bring it over to where it belongs and is intended to be, is the process of conversion, that great work of a Christian lifetime. It requires courage and fortitude, and yet these things will not be lacking in one who sincerely asks for them, who "even before the gods" sings praise and gives thanks.

The Gospel appointed today makes clear the need for living an unencumbered life. In a homily commenting on this selection, St. Hilary of Poitiers has the following to say: [Jesus] said to [the Pharisees], They were to render unto Caesar the things which were Caesar's; and unto God the things that were God's. What a wonderful answer and perfect fulfilment of the divine commandment! He adjusts the balance between contempt of the world and the affront of offending Caesar; he frees souls devoted to God from all worldly cares and burdens, in decreeing that the things which are Caesar's are to be given to Caesar. For if nothing of his remains with us, then we are no longer in the position of having to render unto him the things which are his."

Thus it is that the saints are able to be free and unencumbered both in this life by our praise, thanksgiving and perfected liberty in the use of this world's goods and social structures and in the next, as wonderfully described by Dante in his Divine Comedy:

Hence must we ever win to more of sight,

And by more sight more fervour still acquire,

And by more fervour radiance still more bright.

But, as the living coal which shoots forth fire

Outgoes it in candescence, and is found

Whole at the heart of it which shape entire,

The lustre which already swathes us round

Shall be outlustred by the flesh, which long

Day after day now moulders underground;

Nor shall that light have power to do us wrong.

Since for all joys that shall delight us then

The body's organs will be rendered strong.

-Paradiso, Canto XIV: 49-60
(Translation by Dorothy Sayers)

Another excerpt

Earlier this year, I posted a couple of excerpts from a book I am working on, the tentative title of which is "Sacred Reading through St. Mark." Here is another from chapter 2. (n.b. The Chapters follow exactly those given in the Gospel text.)

But there were certain of the scribes sitting there, and reasoning in their hearts, Why doth this man thus speak blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God only? And immediately when Jesus perceived in his spirit that they so reasoned within themselves, he said unto them, Why reason ye these things in your hearts? Whether is it easier to say to the sick of the palsey, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk? But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins, (he saith to the sick of the palsey,) I say unto thee, Arise, and take up thy bed, and go thy way into thine house. And immediately he arose, took up the bed, and went forth before them all; insomuch that they were all amazed, and glorified God, saying, We never saw it on this fashion. (vs. 6-12)

[T]hy sins be forgiven thee." Given the religious climate and the state of medical knowledge in 1st century Palestine, the scribes are used to assuming that anyone who is afflicted with a bodily or psychological disease (be it leprosy, schizophrenia, demonic possession, etc.) must, simply must, also be a sinner (or the inheritor of parental guilt). And, people being who we are, it is not a great distance from there to associate the severity of the symptoms with the severity of the sinful act(s). Think here of John 9, the healing of the man born blind, especially verse 34: "[The Pharisees] answered and said unto him, Thou wast altogether born in sins, and dost thou teach us? And they cast him out." Here again, this poor man is conveniently (at least for some!) squeezed into the pharisaical box of preconceived notions and readily dismissed without a second thought. I am horrified by how easily I have fallen into this trap in my own life. Lord, have mercy on us for all those times we condemn others for merely challenging our preconceptions and our comfort zones!

So I guess the question for us is: what exactly is Jesus forgiving here in this context? Perhaps He is doing two things here: 1. giving comfort and assurance to the sick man who has likely grown used to thinking in the same categories as the Scribes when it comes to the correlation between sinfulness and sickness and 2. plowing through the suspicions and prejudices of the religious establishment and overcoming their partial worldview with the whole truth of the matter.

As to the first instance, I have been taking an online course through BiblicalTraining.org on the Book of Proverbs, taught by Dr. Bruce Waltke. In the session on hermeneutics (the methodology of interpretation), Prof. Waltke speaks of the 'pre-understanding' that we bring to a given text or situation. This is not just simply to be understood as our own developed prejudices, but (more wholistically) knowing 'who I am' and 'where I am going'. Think about that in relation to our present context. The Scribes certainly think they know who this sick man is (a sinner!) and where he is headed (oblivion, if not outright perdition!). I wonder if he has heard such things often enough that he started to believe them himself. What makes it even worse is when such is perpetrated in the name of religion. How psychologically damaging it is when those we ought to be able to trust (parents, teachers, clergy, etc.) use their authority in such a destructive way.

So, for this sick man to hear, first of all, that he is indeed forgiven (both for his actual sins and those assigned to him by established religious misconception) must be a great relief indeed. In and because of Jesus, his humanity is being restored. He is indeed more than a worthless sinner, he is a creation in the image and after the likeness of God (cf. Gen. 1:26)

Secondly, to the Scribes Jesus says "that you may know..." Notice what has transpired first: forgiveness, then healing. The one logically follows on from the other. It is my current practice to make a private, sacramental confession on the Ember Saturdays that occur throughout the year. I say this not to boast, but by way of illustration: several times I have been moved to tears not only recalling my sins and speaking them out loud in the hearing of another, but also at the great relief that comes from hearing the words of absolution. Our Lord Jesus Christ, through the counsel of His minister, accepts our repentance and grants forgiveness through the all-sufficient merits of the Cross and Resurrection. But, He is also saying (to us personally and to the Scribes of the present instance): You can do this too.You do not have to be the Son of God to say to someone, I forgive you.

"Whether is it easier to say to the sick of the palsey, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk?" Neither one of these things was particularly 'easy' for the Scribes. But that is what Jesus is calling them to, a ministry of reconciliation. And, do you know what? He is calling us to do the same thing. Not everyone is going to be gifted with a physical healing, but anyone can say "I forgive you" to someone else. Yet isn't it the case that sometimes we would prefer to have the former gift instead of 'having' to exercise the latter, which is our common inheritance?

The Scribes here are the perfect example of what not to do, being as they are trapped inside a box of their own making and choosing that admits of no alteration. I say this to myself as much as to anyone else, whatever (or whoever) it is in your life that is in need of compassion and forgiveness, take a chance and offer it. Open up the lid and let in a little light and fresh air. And, if that seems too difficult, the following is some good counsel from the aforementioned Fr. Stephen Freeman:

"Use this prayer for the enemies who [or prejudices that] seem to be beyond your ability to pray: 'O God, at the dread judgment, do not condemn them for my sake.' This places forgiveness at a distance and even a hard heart can often manage the small prayer of forgiveness at such a distance." (ibid)

Brother Paphnutius - an ongoing parable (Part IV)

"And [Jesus] came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise. And he that was dead sat up and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. And there came a fear on all: and they glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is risen up among us; and, That God hath visited his people. (Luke 7: 14-16)

Death

Early January, 367 A.D. - The Egyptian desert

It has been unseasonably cold this year. With so few, and such primitive, human settlements as there are in this region, not much is there to trap the heat of the sun's warmth in this part of the world. It is about 1:00 a.m. as we know it. Br. Paphnutius has been awake since early yesterday morning. As he looks out from his cave, the view is expansive (which he appreciates, though it is not something that he sought out for its own sake). There is frost on the ground, some snow dusted onto the distant hills and three or four lights off in the distance; letting him know that his brethren are keeping their own watch in solidarity with him.

But not Paphnutius. At least not yet. He picked up one of the Psalter rolls, but immediately put it back down. Tonight is different. He is still absorbed by the events of earlier yesterday. Now, you might be thinking to yourself: aren't monks supposed to strive to always live in the present, neither regurgitating the past nor projecting worry onto the future? And you would be right.

Sometimes, though, things stay with us and not by our own volition. So while events belonging to the past are over and done, their "echo" if you will can still hold a place in our consciousness. And, in that sense, even something of what is past remains also in the present. That is a way to see it anyway.

Here's what happened.

Early in the afternoon all of the brethren had gathered in their community church (wherein they sing daily Vespers and Sunday Liturgy together) for a funeral service. One of the younger monks was found dead in his cell that morning, apparently having committed suicide. He, a convert from paganism, had come to religious life only a few years prior and was known as a fervent and sincere believer (as indeed he was).

But...there were rumours-and Paphnutius had heard them-that this young man struggled with homosexuality. No one, however, was suggesting that he lead anything other than a life of perfect continence.


This young brother felt deeply the struggle within himself and always pushed himself, maybe a bit too hard, in his ascetic practices in order to try and compensate. There was a perpetual tension within. On the one hand the testimony of the Scriptures and the vows he had taken obliged him to a life without physical intimacy. On the other hand, his heart yearned to share himself with another, a desire that not even a sincere believer can always come to terms with. So, perhaps, in this tragic moment, the tension became too much to bear.

Okay, here's where things get interesting.

While the brethren were in the church praying the funeral liturgy, including the text: "I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die", Br. Paphnutius was standing near the body and the text from St. Luke that opens this story came to mind. He always associated this great mercy of Jesus with His final act of pastoral ministry on the Cross when He entrusted the Theotokos to the care of St. John, to wit: "Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalen. When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home." (John 19: 25-27)

And so it was that while Paphnutius was commending this troubled young soul to the same care and mercy of God that is so evident throughout the Gospels, he noticed something unusual. He thought he saw signs of breathing. 'Wait. There it is again.' Then a leg moved. Then...he sat upright. Then......the liturgy ceased.

Br. Paphnutius took him by the hand, lead him toward the elder of their group and had the young man kneel down before him so that the brethren could lay their hands on his head as a gesture of compassion and restoration. Not a word was spoken until they depared the church. Then again, nothing could be said right then that was of any value anyway.

Paphnutius spent the rest of that day talking with the young man, sharing a meal with him and assuring himself that those inner struggles that had previously consumed the younger one were entirely converted. Thanks be to God.

It is now what we would know as 2:30 a.m. Paphnutius picks up the scroll he had set down earlier, unrolls it, and begins his nightly vigil: "Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; Lord hear my voice." (Ps. 130:1)

The moral of (this part) of the story: It seems to me that these days there is an awful lot of fretting and confusion surrounding issues of personal identity. Are you gay, straight, transgendered, married, single, just plain confused? It doesn't really matter so much where you have come from as it does that you are here in this present moment. What it is you choose to do with this moment can make all the difference in the world, both for this life and the life to come. Our Lord Jesus Christ has said: "[B]ehold, the kingdom of God is within you." (Lk. 17:21) Do you believe this?

To be continued...

Brother Paphnutius - an ongoing parable (Part III)

"Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away? Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life." (John 6:67-68)

366 A.D. - The Egyptian desert

Over the years, this very thought had occurred to Br. Paphnutius on a continuing basis, especially during the long night vigils. The unimpeded life can be a frightfully honest thing. When we have time to think and reflect, are we going to be comfortable with everything that the conscious mind churns up from the fertile soil of the subconscious? Are we really the person that we present to others; that we have convinced ourselves that we are or "need" to be? We can fill pages and conversations with sage advice lifted and digested from various sources and blended together with our own experience, but does it really mean anything to the one who is speaking or writing? We can practice lectio divina all day long, but do we really believe what we read? Does it make a difference? Do we really care? Self-deception is terribly easy to come by, particularly when you live alone.

Br. Paphnutius, who by now is considered an "experienced" monk (meaning that he has been struggling in his vocation longer than some of his brethren in the nearby cells have been alive), has spent the greater portion of his life alone. Sure, he was surrounded by other students in school and almost married at one point, but even there among those casually social and emotionally intimate relationships, there was a part of him that he just couldn't give away to the other person. Not that he didn't want to (and he was good at pretending that he had), it was just something deeper than he could reach and it remains incommunicable to this very day. The only One Who truly knows Paphnutius is the Creator of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen. That is the root of his vocation. Here in the desert, bereft of all pretence and illusion, he can simply be himself and rest assured that he is in fact known and loved, and that that will never change.

To get back to the question at hand, though. What if he weren't a monk? Would he have success as a merchant or other businessman, a scribe or philosopher, a family man? As much as he knows he is not called to be a father and husband, what a great blessing and a joy it is for him to observe family life. Though, if we are being honest, it causes a pang of regret from time to time in his heart as well.

To take it one step deeper, would he even be a Christian? "Last year" when we were first introduced to Br. Paphnutius it was noted that in his twenties he tried and found wanting a monastic community while he was still filled with youth and enthusiasm. However, the abbot of the place found that Paphnutius did not fit into his preconceived notions of what an obedient novice monk ought to be. Paphnutius, at the time still so inexperienced, did not have the good sense to take things in stride and understand that there are some who have a pathological need to wield "power" over others, even in the Church. That, together with the overemphasis on "rules" and "regulations" in that particular community (a situation where obedience to the letter of the law was prized almost to the exclusion of obedience to its spirit lived in a humane way) and the coming scandal that would rock the Church and shake the faith of her most ardent members was quite enough. At that time he had come to consider himself (and watch out, here's another great opportunity where self-delusion rears its ugly head) an ardent traditionalist who believed the party line simply because it was the party line. In short, he had become the worst sort of "true believer" willing to throw others under the bus rather than deviate from the "rules". The most pernicious thing about that, aside from the cold attitude it engenders, is that it wasn't even apparent to Paphnutius what he was becoming.

These days, those who like to categorise people in simplistic ways and struggle valiantly but vainly to "clean up" the messiness of life (good luck with that!) would consider him something of a soft old liberal. And, you know what, he's okay with that. Through his experiences (and believe me, he has been around the block a few times!) he has come to accept what he always knew to be true about himself, not warring in his heart to try and force himself to be what he is not out of a false sense of belonging and fear of rejection.

Okay, after that detour, Paphnutius once told me: "Brother, I can honestly say that had it not been for the former occupant of this cave I would probably have abandoned the way of Jesus Christ. Even now there is much ignorance in the Church which is really good at pushing people away. I have learned to just let things be, trust in God and worry about my own belief and condition. Everything else will follow."

The moral of (this part) of the story: I don't know that there really is one this time. If you haven't guessed by now, many of the details present in these stories are a compendium of real life experiences of the author. I have rearranged some events, added humorous details and the hindsight of lived experience together with Biblical references, but there is a lot of me in these accounts. In part, telling these stories is a way for me to exorcise some of my own demons. Perhaps what I have to say may prove useful for you on your journey.

To be continued...



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)