England Gets Ready for the Pope

As if England does not have enough preparations for the forthcoming Olympics in London, now the island has to get ready for an official papal visit, the last one occurred in 1982 by Pope John Paul II.  With the official invitation from Queen Elizabeth II extended, Pope Benedict XVI will be making a state visit to England this September.  The English Conference of Catholic Bishops have created a website concerning the visit, click here for the site.

While I do not consider myself a pope-watcher, I am interested in this particular visit because of the Pope's admiration for Cardinal John Henry Newman, whose beatification will be conducted in Coventry during the Pope's visit.

The Pope is to be received by the Queen at Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh, and Archbishop Rowan Williams is also scheduled to meet with Benedict XVI.

Photos from the 1982 visit, from the English Conference of Bishops website.

Pope John Paul II with Archbishop of Canterbury Robert Runcie

A double-whammy blessing.  Show me the rubrics!

I wonder what the Prince of Wales had to say.  Bit crowded on the couch.

Oscar Romero's Cause for Sainthood

Blessed Newman

With one miracle accepted by the Holy See, Cardinal John Henry Newman is scheduled to be beatified by Pope Benedict XVI later this spring during his visit to England.  In order to be elevated to sainthood, one more miracle will need to be attributed to the cardinal and accepted by Rome.   

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.

"Swift, Lord, You Are Not"

At the young age of seventy-five, Benedictine monk Kilian McDonnell began writing poetry.  His published work entitled, Swift, Lord, You Are Not, published by St. John's University Press (Collegeville, MN) in 2003 is a collection of his poetry.  I like McDonnell's style, it feels both raw and insightful.  At his age, the wisdom of the years have instilled a sense of the genuine, authentic, and true self.  The art of crafting poetry, so it seems to McDonnell, is truly incarnational.  Take, for example, this one poem that spoke to me.  I wondered what fires are best unremembered for this monk.    

Don't Look Too Carefully

"O search me God and know my heart" Psalm 39:23

by Kilian McDonnell, OSB

What sudden senile arrogance

provoked this bid to despair?

If you knock, God, be prepared

to see what stands behind the door:

unswept floors, unmade

beds, unwashed dishes

in sink, a lone Giotto

unhung against the wall.

(I, too, have been to the Uffizi,

read Dostoevski, Yeats.)

If you turn over a stone

on my beach, what creatures scurry.

Dig in my ruins, you sift

buried rags of intent.

Uproot my elm, you pulled up

forgotten teen-age tinsel.

Poke my cinders, you stir

fires best unremembered.

Search me not, test

no more.  Take me as I am.

Platefuls: A Poem

I like eggs on top of pancakes.  I know it's weird, but it is a choice.

I learned that from my Pappaw, he liked them that way.

I remember as a child watching him at breakfast,

and then I thought that I should try it too. 

If only life could be that straight forward, to the naïveté of most,

it is.  But those that know differently can see through it.

I'm sorry that you won't know my choices in life;

most are mistakes, and some even seem funny to me now. 

But there's just two that I am most proud of, to say the least.

My point is simply this: try and be. 

Try life out for what it is, and don't stop trying.  In fact,

don't give up.  Quitting only leaves open room for regret.

Be and be large.  You get many choices in life, platefuls

so it seems.  No matter what, integrity guides you, so be
who you were created to be.  Again, regrets. 

My choices are not yours.  Some aren't choices at all.  

Learn from me but know that you don't have to like my tastes.

If you ever want to know what goes with spaghetti,

well, just ask your mother.  

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.

From Parish Church to Minister: Halifax Gets a Raise

The newly elevated Minster Church of St. John the Baptist

Halifax, West Yorkshire

In late 2009, West Yorkshire received its second minster church with the elevation of Halifax Parish Church, otherwise known as the Parish Church of St. John the Baptist.  The other such church of note resides in Dewsbury.  Of course the grandest of minster churches in the region is that of York, the archiepiscopal see of the Primate of England.   

When a friend of mine relayed this news to me recently, I was not at all surprised, given the energy and charism of the new Vicar, The Rev. Hilary Barber.  It was here, during the months of May and June 2009, that I worked with the Vicar on a field education placement while at the College of the Resurrection doing an independent study on Anglican-Islamic relations.  

I found the parish church to be extraordinary.  The history, the architecture, and the people who are the church, made for an exciting worship service every time.  It was impossible to take a step on the church grounds without stepping on a floor memorial, etched deeply by time and love.  Interestingly, the church is not located in the center of Halifax, but rather sits quietly below the fringe of the commercial heart.  I admit that I was lost the first time I visited Halifax in order to meet with the vicar, my growing hunger amid the cold rain did not help my sense of direction in the least.  

There is no question, however, that the minster is struggling financially.  The church is over 900 years-old and has weathered the religious storms and showing its age.  There are several windows inside that were smashed during Cromwell's Protectorate, the replacements are clear glass and affectionately called "Commonwealth windows."  With so much local history embedded in the floors and walls of the minster, the parish is poised to be a house of prayer for the people of Halifax.

By contrast, Dewsbury Minster has completed an extensive renovation of the buildings and created a cafe, gift shop, and a modern museum chronicling the history of the Minster.  Dewsbury is not only staying relevant, but is apart of the revitalization of the area with its exemplary vision and determination.   

I enjoyed my time worshipping with the people at Halifax.  The highlight was the celebration of the parish's Patronal Feast Day on that of John the Baptist.  The former Archbishop of York, Lord David Hope was the preacher and the new Muslim Mayor of Calderdale, Arshad Mamoud was there along with a local Imam. It was a great evening for the town.  

Towards a Baptismal Ecclesiology

What Not to Do:

Holy Water font filled in with sand for Lent.

The 1979 American Book of Common Prayer accomplished an extraordinary thing for The Episcopal Church by reuniting--in theory--the ancient rite of Christian initiation of water and post-water bath anointing.  The Church, through this prayer book reform, has re-ordered the entire life of the Church around baptism, or moving towards a baptismal ecclesiology.

The rubrics contained in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer concerning the rite of Holy Baptism describe clearly the Church’s teaching on initiation, “Holy Baptism is full initiation by water and the Holy Spirit into Christ’s Body the Church.  The bond which God establishes in Baptism is indissoluble” (BCP, 298).  From the inception of the 1979 Prayer Book, a new ethos of Baptism, its theology, and its ecclesiology permeate the whole of the American Prayer Book.  Gone are the days of private baptisms and now the rite is placed on appointed Sundays throughout the Church calendar to be celebrated as a ritual mass in the midst of the full assembly of the faithful.  The Liturgical Movement, along with the initiation reforms of the Second Vatican Council, swept across liturgical churches to instill principles of clear and simple symbolism while reaching back to the ancient rite itself for insights into developing reforms. Here's an instance, at least arguably so, when Prosper of Aquitaine's saying,  lex orandi, lex credendi, does not apply.  With the new addition of a Baptismal Covenant, the Church is proclaiming to all of God’s people the ongoing responsibilities of the bonds forged in the waters of Baptism.  The past event in the believer's life is to made known and re-presented every day.  Moreover, there is a greater emphasis on the ministry of all the baptized, seeking to involve the laity in every possible way into the worshipping life of the Church.  

The Baptismal Covenant, a new interrogatory innovation prior to the water bath, created a new ethos which has taken root in the life of some parts at least of the Episcopal Church.  The 1979 prayer book has taken hold and permeated its inclusive baptismal theology into all aspects of church life.  Most sermons today somehow inevitably allude to the theology and ecclesiology of the Baptismal Covenant found in the rite of Holy Baptism because of the efficacy of the Covenant and its relationship to ongoing discipleship.  Even on appointed days for Baptism on the Church calendar when there are no candidates to be baptized, it is recommended to use the Baptismal Covenant in the liturgy to remind the assembly of the promises made at the font.  The Baptismal ecclesiology revealed in the Baptismal Covenant is clear:  that Baptism is now the primary identity marker for all Christian people and from that comes responsibility to God, to the great fellowship of believers, and to the whole of God’s creation.  Everything is ordered around Baptism because this is how we are fully and completely initiated into the Body of Christ.  With this ecclesiology, then, all baptized Christians share the responsibility of participation and governance in the Church.  While the clergy retain important sacramental functions relating to their orders, the laity has been empowered and approved to serve in additional liturgical and governmental roles in the Church. 

“Holy Baptism is full initiation by water and the Holy Spirit into Christ’s Body the Church.  The bond which God establishes in Baptism is indissoluble”

With the ecclesiological implications in place, the Baptismal theology that flows from the Baptismal Covenant effectively ends an age-old two-tiered system of initiation, meaning Baptism and Confirmation.  Baptism is the full and complete rite of initiation in the Church now in the 1979 prayer book.  Even small children who have been baptized are now encouraged to receive Holy Communion.  This radical change sets us apart from some of our brothers and sisters in the Anglican Communion where Confirmation still holds the meal ticket.  The promises made in the Covenant help move the faithful into a greater participation in the Paschal Mystery—the life in Christ.  There is a call for social justice and stewardship.  There is a call to work for peace among all people, and the invitation to seek and serve Christ in every person.  The Baptismal Covenant shifts the Episcopal Church away from seeing Baptism as simply a way to wash off sins; rather, this new covenant is about enacting discipleship.  This is a major move away from the medieval idea of infant baptism, especially by making adult baptism the norm.

Now with my official GOE (General Ordination Exam) answer out of the way, why do we find sand in some baptismal fonts during Lent?  What image and message, then, does that symbol send the faithful?  I maintain that the "tradition" of filling up fonts with sand diminishes the ongoing, ever-present reality of Christian baptism.  No liturgical season can supplant this; the water is living and flowing ever deeper into the hearts of the faithful especially in a season such as Lent.

While there is the invitation in the prayer book for observance of a Holy Lent, this does not mean that the baptismal water and its implications for discipleship magically disappear for a time.  The symbolism of sand and the notion of wrestling with temptation in the desert is a good one, but it confuses baptism and thus not appropriate for baptismal fonts.   

Chad, Bishop and Saint

Today, the Church commemorates the death date of Chad, Bishop of Lichfield (c. 672).  We know some of Chad by the historian Bede.  Below is the excerpt from The Oxford Dictionary of Saints.

St Chad was the first bishop of Mercia and Lindsey at Lichfield. He was the brother of Cedd, whom he succeeded as Abbot of Lastingham, North Yorkshire, and a disciple of Aidan who sent him to Ireland as part of his education. Chad was chosen by Oswi, king of Northumbria, as bishop of the Northumbrian see, while Wilfrid, who had been chosen for Deira by the sub-king Alcfrith, was absent in Gaul seeking consecration shortly after the Synod of Whitby (663/4). Faced with a dearth of bishops in England, Chad was unwise enough to be consecrated by the simoniacal Wine of Dorchester, assisted by two dubious British bishops. Wilfrid on his return to England in 666, found that Alcfrith was dead or exiled and retired to Ripon, leaving Chad in occupation. But in 669 Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, restored Wilfrid to York and deposed Chad (who retired to Lastingham), but soon reconsecrated him to be bishop of the Mercians. This unusual step was due both to the new opening for Christianity in Mercia and to the excellent character of Chad himself, whom both Eddius and Bede recognised as being unusually humble, devout, zealous and apostolic. Chad's episcopate of three years laid the foundations of the see of Lichfield according to the decrees of Theodore's council at Hertford, which established diocesan organisation. Wulfhere, king of Mercia, gave him fifty hides of land for a monastery at Barow (Lincolnshire); he also established a monastery close to Lichfield Cathedral.

Chad died on March 2nd 672 and was buried in the Church of St Mary. At once, according to Bede, he was venerated as a saint and his relics were translated to the Cathedral Church of St Peter. Cures were claimed in both churches. Bede described his first shrine as 'a wooden coffin in the shape of a little house with an aperture in the side through which the devout can...take out some of the dust, which they put into water and give to sick cattle or men to drink, upon which they are presently eased of their infirmity and restored to health'.

His relics were translated in 1148 and moved to the Lady Chapel in 1296. An even more splendid shrine was built by Robert Stretton, bishop of Lichfield (1360-85) of marble substructure with feretory adorned with gold and precious stones. Rowland Lee, bishop of Lichfield (1534-43), pleaded with Henry VIII to spare the shrine: this was done, but only for a time. At some unknown date the head and some other bones had been separated from the main shrine. Some of these, it was claimed, were preserved by recusants, and four large bones, believed to be Chad's are in the Roman Catholic cathedral of Birmingham. A fine Mercian illuminated Gospel Book of the 8th century called the Gospels of St Chad was probably associated with his shrine, as the Lindisfarne Gospels were associated with the shrine of St Cuthbert; it is now in Lichfield Cathedral Library. The 11th century shrine list mentions the relics of Cedd and Hedda resting at Lichfield with Chad. Thirty-three ancient churches and several wells were dedicated to St Chad, mainly in the Midlands. There are also several modern dedications.

From The Oxford Dictionary of Saints, by David Hugh Farmer, 3rd edition, 1992

Now I doubt that my parents had all this in mind when deciding on my name in 1980.  However, I was not to discover Chad's witness to the faith until my teenage years when a friend and Orthodox priest told me the story of Saint Chad.  From that point forward, I was committed to celebrating this great, humble witness of the Church in pre-Roman Britain!  

I searched for a number of years to find an icon of Saint Chad.  When I began my discernment in 2005, I decided that I would take up the holy practice of icon writing.  The icon above was the fruit of that labor and it hangs above my desk in my study.  

Here are the arms of Saint Chad's College, University of Durham.  I was able to visit the College when I was in Durham this past summer.  There are numerous parishes in the Church of England bearing this great saint's name.  Ironically, our seminary recently hired the chaplain from Saint Chad's College to be our theology professor.  We've swapped icons of Chad.

I pray that I may seek daily to embodied the humility and faithfulness that Saint Chad serves as an exemplar for us today.  

Not Another Temptation Sermon

First Sunday of Lent, Year C
February 21, 2010
Christ and Grace Episcopal Church

Petersburg, Virginia

Romans 10: 8b-13

Luke 4: 1-14

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted. 

         

Woe is me!  Temptation, Lent, ashes, woe is me!  You know what I'm talking about.  Whoever says, "I'm looking forward to Lent this year?"  Huh?  We don't need another sermon on temptation, heck we could give that one!  That dessert looks mighty tempting.  Those prices at Sam's Club are just too good, let's sock up for the winter.  But that job would give me so much power and prestige if I accept it, think of all that we have!  That investment firm is really promising me assurance and prosperity for my future, if only I promise them my faithfulness in giving.  Woe is me! Temptation, the basic human condition we fight day in and day out.  We know temptation so very well.

        

Luke's Gospel today reminds us of Our Lord's exile in the wilderness, and the temptations by the Adversary which serves as the capstone moment in Jesus' formation before his public ministry begins.  There in the wilderness, the desert of wasteland, Jesus is confronted not once but three times by the Adversary to tempt the Son of God to show his hand and see if this new Light in the world could be snuffed out. Perhaps this would have made him so weak and vulnerable that Jesus would do almost anything.  Wouldn't we?  Bread, power, and fidelity.  Simple temptations, promising and awesome: great power over creation, authority over the kingdoms of the earth, and all the promised glory and honor due a mighty king.  Bread, power, and fidelity.  Simple, eh?

"If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread!"  There is no doubt, that Jesus the Son of God could in fact do this.  If he would only do this, he could have something to eat.  But this question goes deep into the heart of the ministry of Jesus, for what would the Christian narrative be if Jesus was simply bread for himself?  A selfish Jesus, that doesn't seem to fit.  Jesus' whole earthly ministry was spent being bread for everyone--feeding, nourishing, sustaining, and filling hungry mouths with the Word of God. "One does not live by bread alone," Jesus says, and so we know that we ourselves cannot sustain life without the spiritual nourishment from God alone.   

         

"But, I'll give you glory and authority over all the kingdoms of the world, and I can give it all to you in a nanosecond!  It's yours, if you will only worship me.  Come on, it's easy!"  The King of Kings, a king whose Kingdom is not from this world, without missing a beat says, "worship the Lord your God and serve only him."  But the world could have changed in an instant!  No more injustice, war, famine, or disease!  But would the price be?  Whose power would be exalted?  Surely it wouldn't be God's. 

         

Stubborn until the end, the Adversary tried once more, "if you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from the temple, and let the angels catch you."  From the dizzying heights of the pinnacle, looking out over creation, Our Lord fights vertigo, "do not put the Lord your God to the test."  Bread, power, and fidelity the testing of the soul, the triumph of Christ.

         

It is no accident that our Gospel lesson falls on the First Sunday of Lent.  The Lenten journey can easily be mistaken for a time of "woe is me" and heaped upon by teachings against temptation, selfish abstinence for the avante garde, and a great way to show others that we're really working hard at this Lent thing.  Perhaps this is why some don't look forward to Lent.  So then, what does it all mean?  

         

The Gospel truth in all this is: bread, power, and fidelity.  Consider these temptations of Christ in the positive.  What are we tempted to do with our bread?  Or better yet, who are we being bread to?  What are we doing with our God-given power, prestige, or influence when we are vaulted to the pinnacles?  Are we tempted to work for justice?  Are we tempted to use what we have to fight disease, end hunger, heal addiction, and eradicate homelessness?  Are we tempted to be faithful to God?  Tempted to a life of discipleship and prayer?  Are we tempted to live in forgiveness to ourselves and those who have wronged us?  After those forty days, without food, our Lord took up his public ministry.

         

If we look to Christ for the answers, than, yes, you guessed it.  We should succumb to those temptations.  These are the temptations to us, the beloved of God, not from the evil in our world.  The Lenten journey is the greatest season in which we are invited to deepen our walk with Christ, to see in ourselves the God-given love that drives us out from our own deserts and into the streets--witnessing a message that the Adversary and the powers and principalities of this world don't want to hear!  We cannot live on bread alone.  That's what our Eucharistic fellowship every Sunday primes us for, and this happens year-round.

         

St. Paul's letter to the Romans furthers this idea that Christ is so near to us He is in on our lips and in our hearts.  Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved--no one is excluded or left out.  To confess with our lips that Jesus Christ is Lord, then we cannot ignore the temptation to follow the Master.  This Gospel truth is not about who is saved and who is out, it's about our ability to "walk the talk"--being bread to our neighbors, striving for the Kingdom with every thing we have, and a complete and total dependency on the wounded, risen Christ. 

         

Leaven, influence, and faith.  If we wait for Lent to be the time of "giving something up" then we truly miss the mark of the Master's call to discipleship.  Our temptation is corporate and communal.  The Kingdom is not about individuals, but the whole of the creation moving sweetly to God's song of love.  The temptations of Our Lord reveal the ingredients for a life of discipleship:  the need for spiritual, enriching food, striving for justice and peace, and a complete trust in the sovereignty of God.  Our Lord is modeling these staples in the face of great evil and temptation that promises all the riches and glory of the world.  But that's just it.  We are in the world but not of it.  We are working to bring about God's Kingdom here and now.  

May our Lenten journeys be full of temptation: temptation to be rising bread for a hungry, hurting world; temptation to use our power and influence to bring about the Reign of God in the streets of Petersburg and beyond.  May our Lenten journey be full of temptation to walk each and every step of the way with the Lord and Master of love and mercy.   

Monster Sunday School

Lighten up your Lenten journey and enjoy, I did...

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!

The Daily Office: Readings from the Early Church

One spiritual practice that I adopted some time ago, is to read a passage from Saint Benedict's Rule prior to saying Compline.  This gives me a time of reflection from something grounded in tradition, non-Biblical of course.  Recently, I accidently left my copy of The Rule at my brother's house whilst on a family trip and so I turned to my book shelf to find something suitable as a replacement.

I quickly located my copy of Bob Wright's classic, Readings for the Daily Office from the Early Church (New York: Church Publishing, 1991) and his supplemental They Still Speak:  Readings for the Lesser Feasts (New York: Church Publishing, 1993).

Those who know this giant scholar, priest, and historian in The Episcopal Church know that these two volumes represent sound research, a faithful translation of the texts, and shaped according to the 1979 Book of Common Prayer Daily Office calendar.

J. Robert Wright is the Saint Mark's Church in the Bowery Professor of Ecclesiastical History at The General Theological Seminary in New York.  He was awarded the St. Augustine's Cross by the Archbishop of Canterbury for his contributions to the wider Anglican Communion.  Friends of mine who have had him as a teacher in seminary speak reverently about him.

While the publishing date may seem old to some, these texts still "speak."  The readings are arranged daily and contain sermons and writings from the early Church Mothers and Fathers.  He has included works from Dame Julian of Norwich as a move to be broader.  Wright offers in the preface his task of compiling the readings and dealing with issues of sexual inclusion in language.

A good example of how these two texts bear relevancy with the Daily Office. The Old Testaments readings for Morning Prayer, recently, have been covering the Jacob v. Esau story.  Wright paired these with a sermon by Irenaeus who brought a Christian interpretation to these texts from Genesis.  It was fascinating, for me, to have incorporated this insight from the Patristic era into my daily prayer life.  It was then that I was sold on using these texts with my Daily Office readings.

Those of my brothers and sisters who fancy The Anglican Breviary will already know of a similar incorporation of Patristic sermons and texts which are combined in the breviary.

I commend any practice of incorporating these additional non-Biblical readings from the early Church into our corporate opus dei.

Remember! Blessed Charles, King and Martyr Part 2

Upon further investigation, I wanted to confirm that Blessed Charles was added to the Kalendar in the 1980 Alternative Service Book in the Church of England as well as the Anglican Church of Canada's The Book of Alternative Services (1985).  No collect contained in either.  However, a new collect was added in the CoE's Common Worship and is cited below.

King of kings and Lord of lords,

whose faithful servant Charles

prayed for those who persecuted him

and died in the living hope of your eternal kingdom:

grant us by your grace so to follow his example

that we may love and bless our enemies,

through the intercession of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ,

who is alive and reigns with you,

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and for ever.  Amen.

Remember! Blessed Charles, King and Martyr

It is as natural that the Church of England should keep this day as it is that Christ's universal Church should keep Saint Stephen's martyrdom.

John Keble, in a sermon on the Feast of Blessed Charles 

On January 30, 1649, the "White King," Charles I of England was led to a scaffold outside of the palace of Whitehall in London to be executed.  He was later buried inside St. George's Chapel within the grounds of Windsor where he rests in peace to this day.

One cannot boast membership in the Society of King Charles the Martyr and neglect his feast day in the blogosphere.  Sadly, I'm away from Sewanee this weekend and unable to attend the Commemoration Mass for Charles.  Perhaps an elucidation of Charles may serve as my penance...

Charles I, the martyred King of England, is remembered today in some parts of the Anglican Communion--depending on one's slant towards monarchy and high churchmanship.  When the monarchy was restored under Charles II, the martyred king was added to the Kalendar for commemoration and stood firm on January 30th until the reign of Queen Victoria, when the Commons had petitioned the Queen for his removal.

Charles has never been officially canonized, at least in the Roman sense, in the Anglican Communion simply because there is no known process of creating saints--a relic of the Reformation for sure.  Thus, Charles receives the title, "Blessed Charles."  According to John Moorman in his work, A History of the Church of England, Charles stood, "as a symbol of the patient sufferer who lays down his life for his creed and for his Church."  Charles was a firm believer in the Divine Right of Kings and could be accredited, if for nothing else, for the appointment of William Laud to be Archbishop of Canterbury.  Charles was not a savvy politician, his policies of enforcing the Prayer Book on the Scots proved disastrous.  The effects could be easily sensed even in 2009 when I stepped inside St. Giles Cathedral in Edinburgh!  

Whether or not you agree with Charles and the succeeding history surrounding his cause for inclusion on the Kalendar, he died a martyr's death, and certainly won the hearts of many of his countrymen.

Today, the Society of King Charles the Martyr exists 1) to pray for the Anglican Communion; 2) to promote a wide observance of 30th of January as the Feast day for this martyr; and 3) to work towards the reinstatement of Blessed Charles on the Kalendar of the Book of Common Prayer throughout the Anglican Communion.

According to the scholarly source, Wiki-pedia, The Church of England added Charles in the 1980 Alternative Service Book as well as a collect included in Common Worship.  He is not contained in the Episcopal Church's Lesser Feasts and Fasts.

~   ~  ~

Icon of Charles, King and Martyr, 2009.  

Acrylic on Wood.  Author's private collection.

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.       

Got Fog?

We are no strangers to fog here in Sewanee.  There's even the annual Fog Festival in nearby Monteagle to celebrate the haze.  High atop the Cumberland Plateau, the University sits quietly surrounded by misty, billowing clouds.  Some days it can really get to you; the fog can sometimes appear so thick that you can almost cut it.  Fog lights on your car fail even to provide visibility.

I wanted to capture the ghostly essence of the fog surrounding the main quad on campus--All Saints' Chapel and Breslin Tower.  Here are few of my photographs.

Breslin Tower

The Quad

All Saints' Chapel

Making Sense of Haiti

Sightings 1/21/2010  
Sightings comes from the Martin Marty Center at the University of Chicago Divinity School


Is the Devil a Black Man?
by Spencer Dew


In what has now become a much-circulated clip, Pat Robertson makes sense of the catastrophic Haitian earthquake as the latest in a string of curses delivered by God to Haiti’s people.  Robertson’s interpretation of this catastrophe, whether we find it repellent or compelling, offers an excellent example of one of the ways religion functions:  Robertson reiterates a reassuring framework of meaning in the face of experiences which call such frameworks into question.  The earthquake, rather than evidence of the random and senseless nature of human existence, provides for Robertson evidence of God’s existence and ongoing, partisan involvement in human history.  Robertson’s theology provides comfort, too, in its categorization of the victims of this tragedy as deserving of their fate, insulating Robertson from the agony of identifying too closely with these wounded, mourning, homeless, and hungry fellow humans.  Robertson may be moved by this suffering – his remarks were delivered as the Christian Broadcasting Network raised money for earthquake relief – but his religious anthropology renders this suffering, in his words, “unimaginable,” a stark contrast to anthropologies that urge empathetic relations.  


For Robertson, the Haitian people are markedly other, a tone that carries through his version of the nation’s history:  “They were under the heels of the French,” he says, “You know, Napoleon III, or whatever.  And they got together and swore a pact to the devil.  They said, we will serve you if you’ll get us free from the French.  True story.  And so the devil said, OK, it’s a deal.  And they kicked the French out. You know, the Haitians revolted and got themselves free.  But ever since, they have been cursed by one thing after the other.”  This story is, of course, far from true.  Robertson offers here a typical demonization of the Voodoo religion and a Christian distortion of the legend of the 1791 Bois Caiman ritual.  Yet Robertson, one imagines, finds animal sacrifice and blood vows repellent, and he has no reason to be accepting of any religion other than his own, ruling them all false and therefore damnable.  In the clearly defined narrative Robertson insists upon, the followers of God can expect rewards while to the followers of the devil come destruction, blood, and wailing.  The troubling aspect of Robertson’s remarks, however, is not the myths he offers to make sense of the world, but what he leaves out of his thumbnail history of Haiti:  Unmentioned in his summary is the word “slavery.”  The “true story” that Robertson occludes is that Haiti, the first country to be founded by former African slaves, owes its origin to armed uprising.  What began as raids on plantations became full scale revolutionary war, with people who had been regarded as chattel claiming their liberty via the blood of their former “masters.”  


From Nat Turner to Fred Hampton, the armed, independent black person has remained a nightmare image to those who benefit from white privilege in America, an image, indeed, not unlike Cotton Mather’s description of Satan incarnate in New England, that “Black Man” with the power to destroy the social order.  Haitian Independence was an event interpreted by much of the white, slave-owning world of the time as catastrophic.  That “they” would dare – and be able – to seize power called into question preexisting systems of meaning-making as surely as any earthquake.


The image of black slaves shedding their chains and taking up arms contributes far more than any hobgoblins of the evangelical imagination to the historical “curses” that have kept Haiti poor and troubled.  The history of American relations with Haiti has been indelibly tainted by America’s true devil – the lingering effects of our own schizophrenic founding as a nation insistent on liberty yet practicing slavery.  Just as racist terror helped shape the stereotype of Voodoo as devil worship, so too racist attitudes have dominated the history of American relations with Haiti, from the fearful to the patronizing, from clandestine political machinations to occupation by military force.  Hopefully, the current attention on Haiti (for those of us who reject dismissive metaphysical explanations such as Robertson’s) will prompt Americans to examine the racism embedded not just in foreign and domestic political history but, indeed, in our own minds.  Without honest confrontation of the legacies of our past as a slave society, some “they” will always be demonized and some “devil” will always be imagined as a mask for our earthly hatreds and fears.


References:


Pat Robertson’s clip:  http://mediamatters.org/mmtv/201001130024


Previous Sightings columns on the 1791 Bois Caiman ritual: http://divinity.uchicago.edu/martycenter/publications/sightings/archive_2008/0501.shtml and http://divinity.uchicago.edu/martycenter/publications/sightings/archive_2009/0514.shtml


Spencer Dew is an instructor in the department of theology at Loyola University, Chicago.

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