The Revised Anthonite Vigil Office

Revised and expanded, the Anthonite Vigil Office has been published by St. Anthony's, OPC Press.  You can order your copy today by visiting Lulu.com.

The Last Anchorite Part 2

The Last Anchorite Part 1

After delving into the ancient world of St. Anthony and meeting the present-day anchorite, Fr. Lazarus in James Cowan's book, Desert Father: A Journey in the Wilderness with Saint Anthony, I went searching for more.  I came across a short documentary film (less than 20 minutes), "The Last Anchorite," which I commend to you.  Because of the time constraints on YouTube, the video is divided into two sections.

You will encounter the expanse of Mount Colzim where the cave of Saint Anthony rests as well as peek inside Saint Anthony's Coptic Monastery.  Hear the wisdom of Fr. Lazarus.  No commentary, I think, is needed.  

The Monastery of Saint Anthony

Here's an interesting look inside the Coptic Orthodox Monastery of Saint Anthony in Egypt, one of the oldest monasteries in all of Christendom.  Built around 356, the monastery is the burial site of St. Anthony.  The monastery sits at the base of Mount Colzim, the mountain which holds the cave of Abba Anthony.

Extensive renovations have been underway at the monastery for the past 8 years.  The news agency, Zenit, carries an interesting article concerning the renovations at this ancient holy site.  Click here to go read the article.

Desert Father

In preparation for next Sunday's Adult Christian Education Class concerning desert spirituality (9:15 a.m. at St. Paul's, Chattanooga--come one, come all!), I stumbled upon James Cowan's book, Desert Father: A Journey in the Wilderness with Saint Anthony (Boston: Shambhala, 2004).  I was initially struck by the fact that something contemporary had been written on St. Anthony the Great.  Since Anthony is the patron of my Order, I was sold in wading through the book, and I'm about half-way finished.

Those familiar with Abba Anthony, as he's sometimes called, know him through St. Athanasius' biography of Anthony--of which there are numerous editions chronicling Anthony's retreat to the desert and his teachings.  Cowan's work is interesting because he is using his own spiritual journey alongside that of Anthony. Cowan leaves his academic career in Australia in order to pursue Anthony into the wilds of Egypt, whereupon he lands in one of the oldest monasteries in Christendom, the Coptic monastery of Saint Anthony.  Here at the monastery, Cowan encounters a strange new friend, a person the monks there consider to be the last solitary in the Church, a man named Lazarus who himself is an Aussie ex-pat who renounced the world.  Lazarus lives in a cave high atop Mount Colzim, the mountain where Anthony lived.  The monastery sits just below the mountain.

Here's an excerpt:

These were the questions that I brought to Lazarus's attention on my occasional climb up the mountain.  I did not make such trips often, believing that it was important to contemplate questions myself before inflicting them on my friend.  I was conscious of not imposing myself on Lazarus in a way that might interfere with his life.  He had a right to his solitude, as he had fought hard to acquire it.  As a practicing hesychast, Lazarus deserved more than to have his world examined by someone like me.

Cowan paints vividly the Roman world in which Anthony and the desert fathers and mothers fled the cities in silent rebellion.  The desert, the great metaphor for the human soul, is the background in which Anthony overcomes the temptations of the adversary.  Again, Cowan writes:

In my desire to deepen my knowledge of Anthony and the Desert Fathers, I had wandered into a cenobium of spiritual masters.  These men weren't recluses who chose the desert simply to escape Roman oppression.  They were men in possession of a vision unique to the world.  The fact that the desert was the place where they developed their knowledge was incidental.  What they had been looking for was a metaphor to enter and inhabit.  Here at the foot of Mount Colzim lay that metaphor: every stone and cave in the mountainside was testament to the life of men who had come here to test themselves in, and against, the desert.  Most of their names were anonymous, their their silence was like a chorus.  I could hear them uttering the eulogy of the solitary: 'We are the katachoi, the withdrawn, the God-possessed.' It was a eulogy of promise. 

So rather than reading some dry, arid history of a desert saint, Cowan manages to bring to life Anthony's legacy through the text.  In fact, I have learned quite a lot about Abba Anthony through Cowan, things that I missed in Athanasius' account.

Contemporary and compelling, Cowan has given us an oasis beckoning us to see where the living springs of God burst forth from the desert life.

Anthonite Solidarity

This past weekend, several Anthonite brothers gathered in Fredericksburg, Virginia for the profession liturgy of our first ordained brother, Fr. Robert-James.  The brothers received black Tucuma rings from Father Robert-James as a gift, but most importantly as a tangible connection to the poor.  Here's a legend of the black Tucuma nut.

When the great god Tupa made the world, there was only day. In the beginning there was no night. The daughter of the great cobra, Cobra Grande, was concerned for her husband, the Caboclo. Mother Earth provided him with game, fish and rich soil, but he worked constantly. Since the night did not exist, he did not know when to rest.

One day, the Caboclo's wife asked his friends to search for her mother, Cobra Grande. She would know the secret of the night. They paddled their canoe a long distance and found the great cobra curled in the sun on the shore of a lake. The caboclos told her of her daughter's worry and of her request to learn the secret of the night.

The cobra slithered to the bottom of the lake. After a long time she surfaced with a nut – the fruit of the tucuma palm – in her mouth.

 "You must not open the nut. Only my daughter will have the power to open it so that the darkness, and nothing else, will escape from inside."

As the caboclos paddled home, they became very curious because of the strange sounds that came from the tucuma nut. Although the great cobra had warned them not to break it open, they were overcome by curiosity. Unable to resist the mysterious noises, they broke open the nut.

Darkness immediately fell on the world. Not only darkness, but also from inside the nut there emerged the night creatures, swooping bats and screeching owls, crawling creatures and wild forest cats. The great cobra did not know the secret of how to put the night creatures back inside the nut.

"Someday," she said, "the son of Tupa will come to visit us. Then all that our people fear will be hidden again in the tucuma nut."

translated by Bishop George Marskell, SFM 

Deep in the Amazon, the Tucuma palm tree produces a thick, black nut which is fashioned locally into jewelry as a poignant symbol of solidarity.  Roman Catholic Bishop George Marskell, SFM, a Scarboro Missioner from Canada, landed in Brazil in the 1960s and stayed until his death in 1998.  The bishop turned the black ring into a personal reminder for the preferential option for the poor.  There is a story that he traded in his gold episcopal ring for one of these simple black rings to make the point of his commitment to the poor.  He was the bishop serving the rural Amazon in Brazil for over 19 years.

Now, thanks to Fr. Robert-James, OPC, the Anthonite brothers are joining in solidarity for the Christian ethic of preferential option for the poor.  I wear my tucuma ring on my right hand, showing my love for God's poor and reminding me of my vows.      

Photos of our newest Anthonite

The Liturgy of Profession of Vows for The Rev. Robert-James Laws took place during the principal Eucharistic liturgy of Sunday, March 14th at Trinity Episcopal Church in Fredericksburg, Virginia.  Fr. Robert-James, OPC is our first ordained brother.  It was a great day!

Father Robert-James is prostrated before the altar and the Order's Icon of St. Anthony.  Abbot Kenneth is standing to the right.

The receiving of the Anthonite habit.  Yours truly is standing to the right.

Retreat Prayers

Silence.  The deserted wilderness.  The furnace of transformation.  Abiding love.  Wooing of the Spirit.  These were some of the many themes that kept surfacing during my vigil retreat in preparation for taking vows.  To synthesize these themes, I wrote several prayers dedicated to our patron, Abba Anthony the Great.  You'll most likely see the repetition of the themes throughout, but I wanted to share these with you.

~    ~

O Christ, draw near me.  Woo my soul to the desert where I may be transformed in the furnace of silence.  Abba Anthony guide me; your life to Christ is my daystar and your faith is my hope.  Help me learn to stand before God in silence, to be still, and listen with the ear of my heart.  Amen.

A More Typical Prayer Book Collect
Almighty and everlasting God, instill in my heart your transforming silence; whereby your servant Anthony the Great witnessed the solitary life of faith to show the abundance of your grace and love; bid us in quietude to be still and to know that you are our God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Come Holy Spirit and woo me to the deep, fiery wellsprings of your love.
Lead me through the desert and into your light, never leave me.
Come breathe in me the strength and courage to stand and walk
today, so that I may witness your love and truth.
Come, may I abide in your peace.  Amen.

On Being a Monk: The First Week

The day was spent in a flurry of preparation.  Many last minute things had to be addressed:  liturgy, music, reception food, and so forth.  I was busy finishing my latest icon project, a large image of our patron, St. Anthony which needed to be dry in time to be blessed during the earlier Eucharist.  The day came on the heels of a busy weekend and the opening of the Easter term.  But the air was filled with excitement rather than anxiety and worry, for this day was to be the beginning of a new chapter in my life and I had set aside ample time beforehand to prayerfully reflect on the sacramental profession of monastic vows.

Once everything was in place, people arriving in the night's crisp air, it was truly going to happen.  The organ burst forth and began the hymn, my abbot leaned towards me with, "are you ready?"  There was no turning back now.   

I had thought long before that the "moment" for me would come when I was to be prostrate on the seminary chapel's cold stone floor--lying vulnerable at the foot the cross.  The music that I chose for this moment was something very dear to me, the Taize chant, "Jesus, Remember Me."  A favorite of mine, I had incorporated it into the healing services that I led at St. Matthew's Homeless Shelter just two short years ago.  That place was a deep mark in my heart and an important time for my formation.  There I came face-to-face with the wounded Christ in so many people hungry for wholeness.  I can still recall their faces, the smell of the annointing oil, and the repetitious chorus of the chant.  All of those memories flashed before me as I laid on the floor with tears. 

But to my surprise, that was not the moment.  It came when my abbot placed the black habit of our Order over me.  Trying to find my way through the dark, hooded garment was the moment--I distinctly recall a feeling of being lost and alone.  I remember saying to myself, "this isn't supposed to be the moment!"  But alas, it was.  Inside the clothing was my journey, my journey from death to life, from darkness to light.  It all happened in the space of a minute or so, but inside it felt as though time stood still.  It all became clear when I peaked my head through the hood, it was true. 

Ending one chapter and beginning a new one was the deep emotional stuff inside of me that day.  I never thought that by entering seminary I would stumble upon the catalyst to discern a contemplative call that has really been there in my soul for a long, long time.  It went unanswered for too long, and for too long it struggled to find its authentic voice inside of me.  That changed and so did I.

I can truly say that professing vows is indeed a sacrament.  Grace came when I unexpected it, inside the darkness of a habit.  That moment will forever stay with me, most likely because I was not ready for it.  God does indeed have a sense of humor.  I wish I could sometimes understand it.  Perhaps in silence, perhaps one day.   I stand ready to begin this new chapter and to see what new unexpected graces will happen.  Silentio Coram Deo.       

The Sacrament of Monastic Profession

Photo:  Before the Profession of Vows Liturgy, 
Chapel of the Apostles, Sewanee, TN.  2010

So you say that there are only seven sacraments?  Really?  No way!  What about the burial office?  And what about monastic profession?  I believe that there are more than seven sacraments--external, visible signs of an inward spiritual grace.  For me, I cannot imagine grace being contained and complete in mere seven.  More of that later...

On the Feast of the Confession of St. Peter (Jan. 18th), I professed simple vows in the Order of St. Anthony the Great.  The "OPC" Brothers and Sisters are a mixed contemplative community in the Episcopal Diocese of Atlanta, GA.  Founded in 2006 by Abbot Kenneth Hosley, OPC, the young order is in process to seek full recognition by the General Convention of the Episcopal Church.  To date, we have 8 members under vows and several postulants.  We seek to embrace a rule of the contemplative life that helps teach others the richness of the Christian spiritual tradition and cause renewal in our Church.

My heart was full that night;  God has called me down a new road in my life and one that gives voice (or silence!) to a very important part of me.  More over, I had a lot of dear friends present with me--and many who were unable to be there praying for me--which impressed upon me the love that so many have for me and our Church.  I was, and still am, in awe.

As part of my discipline, I decided to write an icon of our Order's name-saint, Anthony the Great and present it to the Order upon my profession.  Admittedly, I got the idea from seeing the Icon of the Brotherhood of Gregory the Great.

It is the largest icon to date that I have completed.  It was exciting to see the image come alive and then to customize it with important emblems from the Order.  I painted a frame to surround the saint and placed the Order's initials in each corner, OPC, which is Ordo Precis Contemplativae or "Order of Contemplative Prayer."

The flash does do justice to the brilliant color.  Anthony's hands are holding a scroll with the Order's motto, Silentio Coram Deo, or "Silence before God." I began this icon at the beginning of January, and it helped me get through the GOE exams!  I can see an improvement in my hand each time I write an icon, plus a willingness to embrace imperfection (which is something that I've been working on for years).  The icon was blessed during a Eucharist in the Seminary's Chapel by our Associate Dean of Community Life.  It was graciously received by my abbot and will travel to Atlanta to live with our Order.

~Silentio Coram Deo