Beloved Dust

In the Book of Genesis we learn, "By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust and to dust you shall return" (3:19, NRSV).  In liturgies throughout the Church for Ash Wednesday, this verse from Genesis intends to re-ground ourselves in the Trinitarian life.  We are created beings fashioned by God and according to God's purposes.

My theology professor, now retired, The Rev. Dr. Robert Hughes offers us another way of looking at this passage. In his recent magnum opus, Beloved Dust: Tides of the Spirit in the Christian Life (New York: Continuum, 2008), Hughes offers us the analogy of human beings as the beloved stardust of creation.  "Human beings are best conceived by as materialistic an anthropology as possible.  I am proposing that we use the metaphor of dust, beloved dust, though by this I mean the stardust of creation, matter much as conceived by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, not merely the dust of the dustbin, though that is included" (Hughes, 7).  Hughes goes on to describe that this beloved dust is animated, spirited, estranged, and redeemed dust.  I thoroughly enjoy my copy and highly recommend this important work on the mission and theology of the Holy Spirit as a companion and guide to the spiritual life.

What I find most compelling in all this is that image of not being merely dust, but beloved dust.  Beloved of God, redeemed by Christ, and inspired by the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit in our daily lives.  It is quite easy to view Ash Wednesday in terms of "woe is me."  I do not think that this approach is helpful.  If we take seriously the call to confession, then Lent becomes a deeper journey of faith where we can walk with Christ on the journey to the cross.  Woe is world, perhaps, but as beloved dust we share in that cross-bearing moment with the resurrected Christ to help re-orient the world in terms of love, justice, and mercy.

Dust yes.  Beloved dust, even more.  The markings on our forehead are visible symbols of that loving creation that we are all share in as we move towards our ultimate hope in Christ.  The Lenten journey begins and so we can prepare ourselves for not only Our Lord's resurrection, but our own too.

Burying the Alleluias

There is an interesting post over at the New Liturgical Movement's blog concerning the tradition of dispensing with the "Alleluias" during Lent.  I had no idea of an actual coffin-like container which the children would actually bury their handwritten "alleluias" inside and open upon the Feast of the Resurrection.  Interesting.

Part 1.  Burying the Alleluias:  Burning Strawmen, Mourning Choir Boys
Part 2.  Burial of the Alleluia in an Anglican-Use Roman Catholic Church in Texas

Shrove or Shriven? Pancake Day Worldwide

"May everyday of the year be a Shrove Tuesday"

Jeremy Taylor

My Pastoral Theology professor so aptly said this morning in class, "Shrove Tuesday is not the Middle English word for pancake." Ah, but is it? I turned to The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) to see what is written on the matter. The OED notes that Shrove Tuesday is often referred to as "pancake day." In 1764, OED cites the reference, "let glad Shrove-Tuesday bring the pancake thin." There is even a reference to an ancient Celtic practice of ritually sacrificing a cock or hen to be eaten on this day. Thankfully, however, tons of pancake batter is beginning to be prepared all over for Shrove Tuesday.

So which is the best understanding of Shrove Tuesday? Who would dare buck the OED?

Well, my professor was alluding to the meaning of the root of shrove, which is past tense for the word shrive. Here the OED says quite clearly that shrive means:

"To impose penance upon (a person); hence, to administer absolution to; to hear the confession of."

Thus, the reference to the real meaning of Shrove Tuesday is not lost on carbohydrates. It's about confession, preparation for the following day of Ash Wednesday. Jeremy Taylor's above quotation thus makes complete sense--everyday should be a day in which we offer up our confession and receive absolution and penance from the Church.

Pancakes, or at least the idea of a carnival, is appropriate so long as the meaning of the day is not lost. The historic notion of "suspending the rules" and allowing people to blow off some steam is well within the tradition of Mardi Gras and any festival prior to the beginning of Lent. In England, there is an old tradition of the "boy bishop" or dressing up a young boy in episcopal vestments as a way of illustrating the point of temporarily dispensing the rules.

Go, eat your pancakes and be merry. Confess your sins and receive absolution so that you may be well on your way to keeping a solemn, holy Lent. Enjoy.

Mary, Dawn of Morning

From the Feast of the Purification of the B.V.M. through Wednesday in Holy Week, the Final Antiphon of the B.V.M. at Compline is the Ave, Regina caelorum.

Queen of the heavens, we hail thee,
Lady of all the angels;
Thou the dawn, the door of morning
Whence the world's true Light is risen:
Joy to thee, O Virgin glorious,
Beautiful beyond all other;
Hail and farewell, O most gracious,
Intercede for us alway to Jesus.

V. Vouchsafe that I may praise thee, O holy Virgin.
R. Give me strength against thine enemies.

Let us pray.

Grant us, O merciful God protection in our weakness: that we who celebrate the memory of the Holy Mother of God may, through her intercession, rise again from our sins. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.

From The Monastic Diurnal (London: Oxford University Press/Lancelot Andrewes Press, 2006).

"Thou the dawn, the door of morning whence the world's true Light is risen..." This line gets me every time.  There is something so intrinsically powerful in these words.  Mary, the gate, the womb which bore life and light, is likened to the dawn of morning.  Living on a mountaintop, I interpret this through my somewhat foggy lenses--dew, deer grazing about, sunrise breaking the foggy mist, and life stirring to begin a new day.  The natural overtones are not missed.  The sun rising in the east and setting in the west, punctuating our time each day with remembrances of Christ rising from the tomb, bursting forth from the womb, and the evil in the world lurking at the setting sun.  Mary the door, the vessel which the Word passes to bring the true Light into our existence.  Such a simple prayer but one that is pregnant with meaning--pun intended.  

I have found the additions of the Final Antiphons of the B.V.M. a welcomed and inspiring addition to the final office of the day, Compline.  Seasonally, they move with the fluidity of the Church calendar, providing a definite incarnational emphasis within each season.  

As a life-long Episcopalian, I was not raised in the Marian tradition of the Church.  I must admit that I found it rather odd that Episcopalians would even pray for Mary's intercession--playing at some Roman fantasy.  But in time, in prayer, and in theological education, I discovered that one cannot fully understand the Incarnation, or even the person or work of Jesus Christ, without a deep appreciation for the role that Mary plays in whole narrative.  For Episcopalians, veneration of the B.V.M. is not tantamount to an ecclesiastical identity crisis, it is our expression of our desire for catholicism in the broadest sense.

Mary, I believe, is the greatest source of unity for the Body of Christ.  Walsingham's appearance, furthermore, is perhaps the greatest and most accepted account of Our Lady among Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholics, and Anglicans today.  However, her identity must be rescued from the extreme wings of the church which beset her into highly repressive circles of clericalism and misogyny which grows out from a repressed sexuality.  How could someone hold Our Lady in such high regard and yet refuse to accept women celebrating at the altar, in the threefold offices of deacon, priest, and bishop?  It's quite telling of something of an identity crisis, and one that I suspect is rooted in the mystery of human sexuality.

Here, I would commend my friend Kenneth Leech's excellent (and rather humorous) essay "Beyond Gin and Lace," as means to understand the phenomenon of which I allude.  

Nonetheless, Our Lady withstands the test of time.  Her powerful intercession on our sinful behalf has aided me in more times than I can count.  I feel certain that by veneration--read, not worshipping!--that Our Lady can help show us the way to her beloved Son, Jesus Christ who stands ready with open arms to embrace us no matter what.  Thanks be to God!