Tag Archives: sacrament

Chapter 62: priests of the monastery

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He will keep his entrance rank except in service at the altar…

Where is the discipline in our discipleship?

Again and again the Rule of St. Benedict causes me to reflect on my vocation to the priesthood. The ordering of the church with it’s various designated roles and callings which overlap and yet remain distinct is a confusing subject and it gets increasingly so as people try to re-order and make room for individuals as they explore their specific ‘charism’.

After the last two week’s reflections I begin to see clearly the challenge and, potentially, the call of God on the Anglican Church.

Where is the discipline within our discipleship?

This is a particularly important question when it comes to vocation. There seem to be so many different ‘ministries’ available but with our commitment to ‘the three fold order of ministry’ there is a natural hierarchical view of ministry built into the Church. We can try and promote the work of the laity but Canon Law, which governs and shapes us, forces us to hold the offices of bishop, priest and deacon higher than others. These three offices have wide ranging specifications outlined in the ordinals that it begs the question what is it that designates a priest from the rest of the people of God.

I have sat with the ordinal many times and prayed through it. I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by everything I am asked to be and do. I’m glad that the response to whether I can fulfil all that is asked of me is,

By the help of God, I will.

But even after I relinquish some of the responsibility onto the grace of god I still have to ponder when non-ordained members of the Church take solemn vows to participate in the work of the Church? If all these tasks fall on to the ordained only what is left for the laity to do and participate in?

My question is about how to value properly the work of all the people of God and not demand that, in order to be able to do any ministry, you need to be ordained. To put it another way: how do we stop the personalising of ordained orders in order that all vocations are rightly affirmed.

Changing tack, or rather to focus in on a particular issue; I am not against the Fresh Expressions movement nor the role of Pioneer Ministers (indeed I am active within it!) but there is a real challenge that is raised by the mixed economy of what exactly constitutes a call to the diaconate, the priesthood and to episcopal office. There is an argument that Ordained Pioneer Ministers are being given ‘time off’ to pursue the work that all people and ordained ministers should be doing anyway. ‘Non-pioneer Ministers’ argue that they would love to be creative and missional if only they had the time but their diaries are full of the ‘nuts and bolts’ of ordained ministry. Specifying ‘Ordained Pioneer Ministry’ from the ordained ministry has caused many to feel excluded from the work of contextual mission.

I have always and continue to argue that Ordained Pioneer Ministry is a necessary move by the Church of England in order to raise these questions and conversations and I feel we should be looking to use the questions to solidify our view of the three fold order of ministry. The experience of Ordained Pioneer Ministers should be helping to release and encourage ‘Non-pioneer Ministers’ to be pioneering. Whether this pioneering is done by laity or ordained ministers is a real question. For what it’s worth I suspect most of it should be done by laity but that does not release clergy from the responsibility to participate too.

If I was to be bold in putting forward a real pathway to fruitful debate it would be to propose that all disciples should be pioneers as we respond, through the Spirit, to the call of God to all his people to share the good news and herald in his kingdom. All disciples ordained or not should be looking at ways to do mission and evangelism in their particular context. Once our discipleship bears its fruit in the form of outreach and kingdom building we can then re-examine the role of deacons, priests and bishops within that.

As it stands we are trying to solve a problem in the wrong part of the system!

Like St. Benedict’s monasteries, the call to the priest comes from an established discipleship programme where everyone is subject to the same training and discipline. From this place, 62 chapters in, we then discuss the practical role of presiding at the Eucharist and leading the disciples in prayers. The role of priest does not change their need to follow the discipline of the community. They are priest at the table.

Here priesthood is not the same as leadership.

To be a leader you do not need to be a priest. It is thought that the abbot was not necessarily ordained as a priest and this makes for a fascinating insight into hierarchy in these religious communities. The abbot remains as spiritual leader whilst the priest has a different function. Terence Kardong explores this differences in his book ‘Together Unto Life Everlasting’, proposing that,

…the power of the bishop/priests is of sacramental order, that of the abbot is charismatic. The first power comes from the church: the second comes from the Holy Spirit. (Esther de Waal, A Life Giving Way: a commentary on the rule of st benedict (London: Continuum, 1995) p232)

That distinction is worth noting. I have been struggling to articulate that feeling for some time. My understanding and call to the priesthood is a sacramental order, a function of sorts. My call to specific areas, people or contexts is a charismatic one. All disciples are called to charismatic ministries; ministries that are contextual and unique within the shared call to share the gospel. Some are called to sacramental roles and that is a church function.

The Church, in my mind, should explore specifying better the three fold order of ministry so that those not called to a sacramental role are still encouraged in participating with equal anointing to the life and mission of Christ’s Church. There must be a greater articulation that those given an ordained office in the Church are not seen as of a higher rank or calling. They remain disciples but with a particular, sacramental role. Other disciples are called by the Holy Spirit with charismatic roles which should be honoured and encouraged.

There are parts of my job which I do because it’s my office (presiding at Holy Communion, visiting the sick and baptizing new believers, etc.) but there are other things I do because I feel the Holy Spirit calling me to do at that time and place (community chaplaincy, encouraging artists in the city, gathering and leading a small home group, etc.). Some are tasks that I alone can do in our community because they are sacramental, but many other tasks that I do as a disciple and not as a priest to which others may also be called to do. The specifying of these different tasks needs to be done more intentionally to release disciples into the work that they are called to do as disciples, ordained or not.

Reflection

As I contemplate moving from my curacy into a parish of my own, I think about how I will minister in the new context. There will be sacramental tasks I am called to do because God has called me to be a priest and the Church has acknowledged that. There will also be other things that I will discover God is calling me to, not because I am a priest, but because I am a disciple.

Our question should be, within the parish, should there be a distinction between the abbot and the priest? I would argue there’s room for this framework. It would require a rethink of how the Church views and discusses ordained ministry and that of lay ministry. I think God is already moving in this area as increasingly stretched ordained ministers find themselves forced into ever-widening job specifications and expectations. As more churches find themselves in longer interregnums and more multi-parish benefices are created, less ordained ministers feel ‘called’ to the struggling (mostly rural) contexts due to the ‘killer workloads’ and overwhelming pressures, as well as not fully understanding the discipline of discipleship. I speak from personal experience, here. It was in the intensity of college that I discovered the cost of discipleship (and I came from a ‘successful’, growing church).

We can any longer hide the charismatic call of all disciples to contextual mission in its infinitely varied forms. The praise and holiness of ‘leadership’ and the pursuit for better equipped leaders is futile as we increasingly discover that what is being asked of them should be the work of all disciples. To require a title like ‘leader’ or to need ordination to encourage someone in doing the work of the kingdom is a failure on our discipleship. Leaders come from a fully functioning discipleship programme (as we’ll explore in two weeks time). Naming someone a leader and then asking them to find followers is illogical to me.

You’ll be aware that I am convinced that only a focussed, intentional re-examination of the real life of discipleship where commitment is paramount and better more systematic re-ordering of God’s Church to ensure the discipline of humility is at the heart of all we are and do is needed!

Loving Father, gracious and powerful, you call us to be converted from our old life to new life in Christ. You have adopted us as your children and grant us true peace, found when we know our identity in Christ. Continue to call us closer to you that we would live in the freedom of your grace and that others would see your good work in us that hey to would respond to your call on their lives also.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 58: the admission of new brothers

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Admission to the religious life should not be made easy for newcomers.

What does it mean to be a ‘Christian’?

It seems to me we have reached, in this chapter, another pivotal moment in the Rule. The issue raised in this chapter comes close to my central thesis (that sounds too pretentious) to this whole ‘parish monasticism’ project: what does it mean to be a ‘Christian’?

One of the trickiest parts of my role as a minister of religion in an established church is baptisms. You can choose any Anglican church in this country and ask the minister about their baptism policy and I can guarantee that they will speak, at some point, about it being ‘complicated’ or ‘disappointing’. It is on this single issue that I begin to consider disestablishment as a useful proposal!

I don’t want to go into my baptismal theology (it’s more Baptist than Roman Catholic but I understand the role of infant baptism) but I have never seen baptism as a legitimate evangelistic opportunity. The reason it remains disappointing is that we continue to delude ourselves that the majority of people bringing their baby to be ‘christened’ want anything to do with God. We invest time in ‘preparing’ babies to be ‘christened’ because we cannot refuse but in the end a small number of these families take the promises made at the baptism service seriously or anywhere close to understanding what they are committing to. The service becomes a theological farce in my mind and it forces me to ask: what is actually going on at those secular celebrations of our profound mysteries of God’s grace?

So, yes, I’m pretty distressed about this and easily slip into emotional rhetoric on the subject but to try and outline a positive response to the dilemma I will return to the question: what does it mean to be a ‘Christian’?

I ask this question at preparation evenings we host for potential baptism families. The phrasing of the question is important; I ask,

If your child, when they are 7 or 8 years old, comes up to you and asks, “Mummy/Daddy, are we Christian?” What will you say? And they ask, as they are likely to do, “why?” What will your response be?

From my year and a half of asking this question I have yet to hear any answer other than,

Yes. You were christened.

My heart sinks when I go month after month desperately hoping that one day someone will articulate in some way their desire to know Jesus. After they’ve answered I talk, quite passionately, about being a Christian, about following Jesus, wanting to be transformed into His likeness, to acting, speaking, loving like Jesus, to inviting him to direct my life, my behaviours and my attitudes. I, like many ministers, comfort myself with the only thing left to us: the ‘planting seeds’ analogy.

It is not that I don’t understand the sowing analogy but I have major theological issues when we’re sowing seeds at the point of baptism, our welcoming of new Christians into the Kingdom of God. Infant baptism, for me, relies, in part, on the faith of the parents and/or godparents. Of course, baptism relies on the grace of God and God’s relationship with the child but there remains big questions over whether salvation can be removed from someone; can someone turn away from God’s grace? It is about free will and choice in the matter of relationship with God. If choice is taken away from baptism then we may as well go round pouring holy water over people and proclaiming faith over them!

No, it will not do, for me!

Here, in the Rule of St Benedict, we hear of the admission to the religious life not being made easy for newcomers. In my heart I believe that baptism into the Christian faith ideally should be akin to taking up monastic vows. This does not deny infant baptism for the commitment made in that instance still takes the vows of the parents and/or godparents.

But, Ned, that’s monasticism and not ordinary folks!

Why do we still differentiate so much in this respect? Why can we not take the model of monasticism for general faith? Why must there be different levels of holiness, one level reserved only for the ‘monks’? Why do we not expect all Christians to be holy?

I have been reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer recently and studying his views on ‘new monasticism’ as well as discipleship. I’ve recently been skimming through his ‘Letters and Papers From Prison’ in which he begins to outline a book he never had the chance to complete. In this book he begins to formulate a ‘religionless Christianity’. The argument, for me, is persuasive but, unfortunately, he never fleshed out the practical implications of his theories. If I ever return to academic study I would probably base my dissertation on Bonhoeffer’s use of monastic models in his view of Christian discipleship.

His use of monastic metaphors began well before his time in prison of course. It was in his book ‘The Cost of Discipleship’ that I first came across his explicit use of monasticism.

The expansion of Christianity and the increasing secularization of the church caused the awareness of costly grace to be gradually lost. The world was Christianized; grace became common property of a Christian world. It could be had cheaply. But the Roman church did keep a remnant of that original awareness… Here on the boundary of the church, was the place where the awareness that grace is costly and that grace includes discipleship was preserved. People left everything they had for the sake of Christ and tried to follow Jesus’ strict commandments through daily exercise. Monastic life thus became a living protest against the secularization of Christiantiy, against the cheapening of grace. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001) p.46-7)

This whole section from the chapter on ‘Costly Grace’ jumps from the page and into our time. He attacks the division of the church into ‘a highest and lowest achievement of Christian obedience’. The work of the monks was used to justify the lack of discipleship of the many in churches.

But the decisive mistake of monasticism was not that it followed the grace-laden path of strict discipleship… Rather, the mistake was that monasticism essentially distanced itself from what is Christian by permitting its way to become the extraordinary achievements of a few, thereby claiming a special meritoriousness for itself. (Ibid., p.47)

Prior to his publication of ‘The Cost of Discipleship’ Bonhoeffer wrote to his brother and proclaimed,

The restoration of the Church will surely come from a kind of new monasticism, which has in common with the old kind only the uncompromising nature of life according to the Sermon on the Mount, following Christ. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Testament to Freedom (San Francisco:HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p.424)

If you put these two writings together you can see Bonhoeffer beginning to formulate an ecclesiology which broke down the cloistered walls and brought the discipleship of the monastic life into the wider Church. Bonhoeffer goes on to use the biography of Luther, himself a monk, who ‘escaped the monastery’ to bring the discipleship to all the world.

By the time he reached prison, Bonhoeffer was grasping the implications of this ‘new form of monasticism’ which was based fully in the world. Part of Bonhoeffer’s argument for a ‘religionless Christianity’ centres on the un-biblical premise that Christianity is a cosmic escape plan from this world to heaven. In this schema Christianity is a religion interested only in metaphysics and individual salvation. His prison letters to his friend Eberhard Bethge, critiques our modern view of Christianity which desperately attempts to preserve itself against an increasingly forceful argument against the existence of God. In an baptismal homily written for Bethge’s son, Bonhoeffer writes,

Our church, which has been fighting in these years only for its self-preservation, as though that were an end in itself, is incapable of taking the word of reconciliation and redemption to mankind and the world. Our earlier words are therefore bound to lose their force and cease, and our being Christian today will be limited to two things: prayer and righteous action among men. All Christina thinking, speaking, and organizing must be born anew out of this prayer and action. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison (London: SCM Press, 2001) p.105)

If the reality of faith in Christ that God does not desire us to leave this world or be concerned with other worldly things but to follow Christ in committing to this world in all its suffering and challenges then what place does something as religious and metaphysical as prayer have in this faith?

I discovered later, and I’m still discovering right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. One must completely abandon any attempt to make something of oneself, whether it be a saint, or a converted sinner, or a churchman (a so-called priestly type!), a righteous man or an unrighteous one, a sick man or a healthy one. By this-worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life’s duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities. In doing so we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously, not our own sufferings, but those of God in the world–watching with Christ in Gethsemane. That, I think, is faith; that is metanoia; that is how one becomes human and a Christian (cf. Jer: 45!)(Ibid., p137)

I know I’m quoting alot of Bonhoeffer but I think it’s important to show his thorough study towards an ecclesiology which I find helpful in pursuing this disturbing experience of baptising, wholesale, babies to parents who show no indication of any desire of relationship with Jesus Christ.

It is not with the beyond that we are concerned, but with this world as created and preserved, subjected to laws, reconciled, and restored. What is above this world is, in the gospel, intended to exist for this world; I mean that, not in the anthropocentric sense of liberal, mystic pietistic, ethical theology, but in the biblical sense of the creation and of the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Barth was the first theologian to begin the criticism of religion, and that remains his really great merit; but he put in its place a positivist doctrine of revelation which says, in effect, “Like it or lump it”: virgin birth, Trinity, or anything else; each is an equally significant and necessary part of the whole, which must simply be swallowed as a whole or not at all. That isn’t biblical. There are degrees of knowledge and degrees of significance; that means that a secret discipline must be restored whereby the mysteries of the Christian faith are protected against profanation. (Ibid., p.369-70)

And so here it is, what I’ve been building upto!

Confession of faith is not to be confused with professing a religion. Such profession uses the confession as propaganda and ammunition against the Godless. The confession of faith belongs rather to the “Discipline of the Secret” in the Christian gathering of those who believe. Nowhere else is it tenable…The primary confession of the Christian before the world is the deed which interprets itself. If this deed is to have become a force, then the world will long to confess the Word. This is not the same as loudly shrieking out propaganda. This Word must be preserved as the most sacred possession of the community. This is a matter between God and the community, not between the community and the world. It is a word of recognition between friends, not a word to use against enemies. This attitude was first learned at baptism. The deed alone is our confession of faith before the world. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Testament to Freedom (San Francisco:HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p.91)

Baptism is not an opportunity to teach people the faith. Baptism must remain the result/ the response to an encounter with the resurrected Jesus in this world. Baptism is the secret admission of another into the community which professes by its prayer and action the reality of God amongst us, reconciling and restoring this world.

Reflection

I believe, now more than ever, the reformation of the Church will come through a new form of monasticism which breaks down the cloisters and is embedded in the lives of all Christians. By Christian I mean those who seek to know God in the world through the resurrection of Jesus Christ and his Holy Spirit. This means a Church which knows itself as disciples living contrary to the world around them but still remaining embedded in it as Jesus once did. Jesus remains enfleshed in the very reality of God and so there will never be any division between flesh and spirit.

Jesus also differentiated between the crowd and the disciples and was unashamed in the distinction. We are not disciples to sell Christ as a product. We are disciples to seek Jesus and to be more like him. The established church has lost this distinction in our baptismal theology and we continue to cheapen the power and transformation of grace by colluding with it.

Having said all of this, I fall into silence at the horror and pain of my feelings and pray earnestly for wisdom. I know that I am at the very first stages of understanding and may be heading down a treacherous path but still that dissatisfaction for where we are now.

Gracious Father, let me not be pushed down the wrong path but rather be led by your Spirit into your will and right thinking. May my mind be your servant as well as my heart and life. I pray, have mercy on us all and lead us into the path of righteousness for your Sons sake.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 55: clothing and shoes

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Suitable clothing shall be given the monks…

Are you seriously going to wear that?

Well it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? Sooner or later the conversation would come up about…

Vestments.

I have run a session on Holy Communion for two of our church’s home groups. The first part of these sessions look at why clergy wear what they wear. I am always keen to point out that its probably the practices came before the theory but that doesn’t negate the importance of the theory; if it worked for the Trinity it works for anything!

I hope, dear reader, you won’t mind me skimming through the major aspects of Anglican vestments as I understand them. I also ask that you, hold off judgement on the legitimacy and missional pros and cons of such outfits until I am finished. Do you promise?

dogcollar

I will start with my ‘everyday wear’: the dog collar.

The dog collar is so called, in my mind anyway, because it is a symbol of being led and, simultaneously, leading a walk with my master: God. At the end of John’s gospel Jesus says to Peter,

“Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” (John 21:18)

When I made my vows and entered ‘Holy Orders’ I handed over my freedom to live as I wanted to live, to say what I wanted to say, to go where I wanted to go… well that was the idea. The problem arose when I failed to live up to that promise. In that way I allow God to lead me (and when I put my dog collar on I am reminding myself that God is in charge and will lead me to where I do not wish to go necessarily) but I also have a tendency, like a dog, to run on ahead and drag God to the lampposts and other dogs that take my fancy. There is, in the image of dog and owner, a beautiful give and take. The owner is in ultimate control but they allow the dog to explore but when they need to go somewhere particular the collar becomes tight and the owner drags the animal in a certain direction.

There are time in my life now where I know where God wants me to go and what he wants me to do but I resist. It is at these times the collar becomes tight and I want to throw it off. I always listen deeper at those times! To use a simple example: when I’m driving. Say another driver cuts me off or forces me to break the Highway Code and I want to swear at them and let them know my anger but I’m wearing my dog collar; I tend to resist the temptation from expressing my anger and instead smile and pray blessing on them. Or say I am walking down the street in my dog collar and I see a homeless person begging for money… That usual dilemma of how to respond, knowing that money is not necessarily what they need but a meaningful encounter with another human being who will listen to them and their situation and care for them, is multiplied for me. There are times when I’m rushing to get to a meeting and pass several homeless people on my way; without the dog collar there is less guilt (because I’m a broken and fallen person!) than when I pass them in a dog collar. The dog collar at those times becomes so tight that I know of other clergy who don’t wear dog collars in the centre of cities. I find myself stopping for each one and being late for meetings… In this way the dog collar helps me.

There are two camps in the Church: those who do wear them and those who don’t. Dog collars divide the clergy. Some feel they are a barrier to genuine relationship with strangers whilst others feel they invite relationship with strangers where otherwise there would not have been. The problem is that it’s a bit of both; sometimes the dog collar puts people off talking or opening up to you, the wearer, while other time it starts conversation. I don’t think there is a stand out winner for which it is more: it just depends.

For me, personally, I find it more helpful than I do a hindrance. I have had my fair share of abuse thrown at me because of the dog collar (or at least I think it was the dog collar). I have even had a can of coke thrown at me by a stranger but the conversations that the dog collar has encouraged far out way the negatives. I was on a bus in Leeds wearing my dog collar and a complete stranger started sharing about his wife who was suffering through chemotherapy and he didn’t know how to support her. I listened and tried to encouraged him. He asked if I would walk him to the ward as it was close to my destination anyway which I happily did. I prayed with him before he went to see his wife before parting company. I know that wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t wearing a dog collar.

Some clergy feel the dog collar asserts authority onto conversation which may seem oppressive. I can see how that might be the case but that’s where the character of the wearer must be challenged. If that is the motivation behind wearing it then you should probably pray through that and challenge yourself. The dog collar does set you apart from other people, other Christians as well but that’s the point. Philip Lawrence astutely tells us,

Today many monks want a clerical wardrobe, a monastic wardrobe and a lay wardrobe so that “they will not stand out” when they are with various people. This seems clearly against the thinking of Saint Benedict. We monks should always look like monks. We have only one identity and that identity is being a monk. (Philip Lawrence, “Chapter 55: The Clothing and Footwear of the Brothers”, Benedictine Abbey of Christ in the Desert, March 1 2015, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/926.html)

There is a theory that clergy should be just like other Christians and I agree, in the most part, with that sentiment. There is, however, a distinction between clergy and laity but I don’t think it is where most people think it is.

Yes, we are ‘a priesthood of all believers’. Yes, we are ‘a company of saints’. Yes, I believe the hierarchy in the established Church hinders change and can be restrictive and it is here that we must rethink the distinction. Being ordained is not about raising a person ‘up the ladder’ but separating them for a particular task. Being ordained, for me, was about being set apart as a public example of discipleship. Yes, all should be public examples of discipleship, but we aren’t and we need people to be disciplined to do it so we can all be encouraged.

It’s the same with marriage. Yes, we should all love others intimately and with complete selfless, faithful and unbridled desire for the flourishing of them and their transformation into the likeness of Christ, but we don’t. In order to protect that ideal, some are called to commit themselves to the discipline of chastity to another and work out how to be faithful through the chains of marriage and part of marriage is about this type of ‘slavery’ but it is through this we discover true freedom.

For the Christian to be perfectly free means to be perfectly obedient. True freedom is perfect service. (Stanley Hauerwas, A Community of Character: toward a constructive christian social ethic (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1981) p.131)

The dog collar is a reminder for me that I no longer have the freedom to shirk my discipleship. The dog collar is more for me than for others, to remind me that I am to learn what it means to be holy, set apart from the world.

I know that my view of ordination is monastic in character for this very reason and I’m still on a journey with this understanding.

Most of the other vestments, for me, stem from this basic understanding of ordination.

So a quick run down of what is what and why it is used. Bear in mind that people have different understandings of the symbolism behind vestments and this where the conflict in what they say to observers occurs. I will also only speak on vestments that I am asked to wear as a ‘low church anglican’.

cassock albCassock Alb: Is a white garment that goes over clothes. This symbolises a clothing of the wearer in heavenly glory. This is about identifying the role of the leader of worship and not the person wearing it. The leader of worship is an expression of the character of the whole company of worshippers; they are to be the spokesperson of the collective voice of the congregation. By draping them in white it is a draping of all the people in that resurrection glory.

cinctureCincture (girdle or fascia): Is either a strip of material that goes round the body above the waist (girdle) or a rope with tassels that is worn around the waist (fascia). This is meant to symbolise, like the dog collar, the being lead by God from John 21:18. I wear the fascia because it reminds me of my Roman Catholic heritage and has a monastic quality about it which I find helpful to remind me of my particular calling to ordained priesthood.

stolesStoles: Are the scarfs that get draped over the shoulders, for deacons in the ‘Miss World style’ and for the priests in the ‘Football Supporter style’. This sybolises the yoke of Christ being laid upon the shoulders of the ordained person. It originated in the Roman society as a symbol of ofice and responsibility and there’s still that element in the symbol today. We, who wear it bear the responsibility of leading the people in worship and voicing the communities prayers and concerns to God. You will find that these come in four or five different colours: white for times when we celebrate resurrection or the coming of God’s Kingdom into the present (Christmas/Epiphany/Easter/Trinity, baptisms, funerals (sometimes) and weddings), purple for times of preparation and penitence (Advent/Lent) (sometimes blue is used in Advent as the penitence is seen as different and it is more of a Marian focus but I use purple to see Lent and Advent in similar contexts) (there is also Lent Array which is unbleached linen), red for times where we remember the Holy Spirit or martyrs (Pentecost/Feast Days) and green for ‘ordinary time’ where we settle into the rhythm of the world and it is our natural position to counterpoint the points of celebration or preparation.

cassockCassock: Is a black garment similar to that of the Cassock Alb. At the reformation the Cassock Alb was seen as a symbolism of the abuses of clericalism where the clergy and those ordained were seen as being elevated beyond the reach of the laity. The reformers were keen to bring the work of the Church to the people and so they removed the symbolism. This reformation was focussed on the words used in the Church, hence the translation of the Bible into the common tongue. The reformation replaced the priest with the scholar, those who could read and interpret the Scriptures and the Cassock hints at the origins of being like the university gowns or the preaching monks (of which Calvin and Luther were).

surplice

Surplice: Is the thin white ‘dress’ which goes over the Cassock for the same reaon the Cassock Alb is white.

preaching scarf

Preaching Scarf: Is a black scarf that is worn with Cassock and Surplice and is a reformation alternative to the Stole which symbolises the office and learning of the wearer.

When do I wear what?

I tend to wear Cassock Alb, Cincture and Stole for any sacramental activity (Holy Communion and Baptism). I am on a journey here too as to my honest understanding of ‘sacrament’ so this is not fixed at the moment in my mind. I ask myself,

Is my role to be placed in a ‘between’ time/space, an altar moment where heaven will kiss earth? Where we, the people of God will have a foretaste of God’s Kingdom on earth?

If the answer is “yes” then I wear Cassock Alb et al.

If the answer is “no” but I still need to be identified as ‘ordained’ then I will wear a Cassock, Surplice and either Preaching Scarf or Stole (usually Preaching Scarf). This tends to be in civic services and funerals.

Weddings are up for grabs at the moment!

Reflection

There is often much discussion and personal opinions around the conversation of a ‘uniform’ for ordained ministers and I think it betrays are lack of agreed understanding as to our language around ordination and vocation. We are all uncertain as to how leadership, ministry and vocation works because there are so many theories and schools of thought around the subject. All the different denominations pick and choose their own view of ordained/ lay ministry and it creates a big tension. I agree that it is a secondary issue but, like most secondary issues, this is highly emotive and people get confused as to why we feel so strongly about it. For what its worth I feel it’s about the personal response to distinction in vocation, history of who represents different ministries and how we have viewed it as an outsider. If you have been painfully hurt by the actions of an ordained person then that will tarnish your view of other clergy (understandably).

There is a complex cocktail of personal character and uniformed role going on with ordained ministry and therefore vestments articulate this tension within congregations. It is hard to hide from the confusion and different opinions when it is there for all to see. We can either get rid of the vestments and forget that different views are held or we can grab the nettle in our hands and patiently talk about what and why we think what we think.

There is an important conversation to be had about what it means to be ordained and what the alternative calls are on the life of a disciple. Maybe a more monastic view of ordination is worth revisiting and encouraging a distinction between church leadership and that of service through the priesthood and diaconate.

Lord, you call us all to be disciples, to lay down our lives and will to go where you want us to go. For some of us that will be a specific call to live out our discipleship in radical forms of obedience and to be an encouragement to others to pursue that holy life, set apart from the world but still loving and serving it. For others the discipleship will look very different and the role will be very specific in a particular area or to a particular people. Whilst we live in this complicated and fallen world may we hold out the hope that in the end we will all be transformed into the likeness of your Son and will worship together in Spirit and Truth at your heavenly throne.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 44: how the excommunicated are to make satisfaction

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He who has been excommunicated from oratory and the community table is to prostrate himself in front of the oratory door when the Divine Office is concluding.

Do we need penance?

It all sounds very severe and humiliating to literally lie face down for an extended period of time in front of others. Two things to quickly note: one, to prostrate yourself has similar roots to the word ‘worship’ we prostrate ourselves before God, is this also ‘humiliating’? The second point is about the role of humiliation.

Humiliation means ‘to be humbled’ or ‘to be brought to a lowly position’. Prostrating oneself is going to the lowest one can go physically. What a wonderful enacting of a metaphysical positioning of the heart; we make visible that which is invisible, like a sacrament,

A Sacrament is a visible sign of an invisible grace, instituted for our justification (Cathech. Trident. II. i. 4)

Many commentators point out how alien this concept of physical manifestations of repentance is to our modern day sensibilities and it made me wonder, “why?”

Firstly there is a historical aspect to the thought of penance in this way. When we think of repentance we think of saying “sorry” but as my Mum used to say,

It’s no good just saying sorry, you have to mean it.

I’m afraid, Elton John, you might be wrong: ‘sorry’ isn’t the hardest word to say!

Repentance, in the Bible seems to require some physical acting out of the inward turning back, ultimately to God. John came to proclaim a baptism of repentance. To be baptised, therefore, is to physically and publicly enact your turning towards God with the symbolic burying (in the water) and the rising to new life (out of the water). As baptism cannot be repeated in fear of denying God’s eternal adoption of us into His Kingdom, the Early Church, and still in the Roman Catholic Church (amongst others), the role of penance became that symbol of re-turning after some sin or grievance had been made. Often these were a set of prayers or a pilgrimage to a particular holy site or relic.

During the time of the Crusades, however, the Church began to develop an idea of ‘indulgences’, a form of tax on repentance; one would pay for forgiveness/pardon from the Church as a form of penance. This was very lucrative and paid for the war against the Turks and the Ottoman Empire. Later, Pope Leo X needed funds to complete the building of St Peter’s Basilica in Rome and so encouraged official pardoners to ‘cash in’ to cover the costs of the building project. These abuses were one of the primary causes of Martin Luther’s Wittenberg protest which officially started the Reformation.

We, in the protestant West, feel uncomfortable with St. Benedict’s use of ‘satisfaction’ for grievances because it flies too close to penance and indulgences. We want to reject that and proclaim freedom from such arcane understandings but we can’t fully believe this freedom to be true. We still have, in post-reformation religion, the language of penal substitution. Penal Substitution is the idea that Christ, by his freely chosen and perfect sacrifice on the cross, was penalised for sins we, ourselves should suffer for. Christ satisfies the demands of justice and pays the price of sin; death. The language of this theory is so transactional: payment of debts, satisfying an angry God who demands we repay Him for grievances against Him. It is too karmic for me and not enough of the power grace.

Luther was protesting against a system which had abused this ‘transactional’ approach to forgiveness and so used the language understood by the people to say,

Christ has paid off your debts. You don’t need to pay money or do anything except accept the forgiveness. If you need to feel that the indulgence or penance is completed then think of it as Christ doing it for you.

This is correct; we don’t need to pay someone to earn forgiveness from God, it is freely given by His grace. The problem, however, is we have not fully grasped the reality of the end of the transactional view of God’s justice. Grace, in my reading of Scripture, doesn’t say Christ participated in a real transaction with a wrathful God who is waiting for us all to balance our books. Grace speaks of Christ belittling and revealing the weakness of such an approach altogether. God was not separate from the cross, He was on the cross. God wasn’t receiving payment for sins, He was entering into the stupidity of that sacrificial system to end it, making it obsolete.

I don’t think Christ was paying God for my sins because I don’t think God is needs something to balance out my bad deeds before he forgives; he surely isn’t that petty. God does not withhold his mercy, that’s the wonderful truth about grace.

This notion of substitution centres in on Paul’s words in Romans 6:23,

For the wages of sin is death…

Correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t see where this literal idea comes from. I read these words as meaning that if we sin, i.e. we turn away from God, reject God, deny Him, we die. This makes sense if God is the giver and sustainer of life. God offers us, in relationship with Him, life and if we move away from the source of life we will die. Where did we get this notion that if we sin God will actively cut us off as a punishment?

To put it in another way, we don’t need to pay God for our sins because He isn’t asking for payment. The wages aren’t coming from God. We will receive death, not from God but as a natural consequence of refusing the payment of life. As Paul goes on to say in Romans 6:23,

…but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

We want to live under the stick and know punishment. God wants us to live in true freedom and to know His free gift of eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord, the source of abundant life.

Try reading Matthew 25:31-46, the image of the sheep and the goats, without the concept of karma (we need to have more good deeds by our name than bad) or balance books or any form of transactional justice. We naturally want to see this view of judgement as God, sat on His throne in heaven, with a list seeing who’s been naughty and nice. God is not Santa so let’s start believing that fact! The wonderful truth about God’s grace is that He’s not counting. He offers us the free gift of life which we can receive with joy or opt out of.

St. Benedict’s proposed ‘satisfication’ may strike us as too petty and humiliating but some of us still hold too much to a similar view when we preach the cross as ‘satisfaction’ of an angry God.

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The Liberalism Delusion

The second aspect to why our modern sensibilities think this concept of physical manifestations of repentance is alien is cultural.

This Christmas there’s one book that I would really like (no pressure!) and that’s John Marsh’s book, ‘The Liberalism Delusion’. Regular readers of my blog will know my blatant disagreements with the form of liberalism prevalent in British culture today. John Marsh, in his synopsis of his book, sums up my questions concisely. He suggests that the flaws in liberalism are: ‘human nature is good and rational’, ‘the more freedom the better’, ‘morality is unnecessary’, ‘the individual is of overriding importance’, ‘greater equality is always beneficial’, ‘science is certain and benign’, ‘religion is untrue and harmful’, ‘history and tradition are unimportant’, ‘universalism and multiculturalism are beneficial’ and ‘we are shaped by our experiences not by our genes’.

I might, if I get hold of the book, write a full review of the book but for now it would be worth taking three of these ‘flaws’/‘delusions’ and outlining his proposition in our current discussion on penance and repentance.

Firstly, ‘human nature is good and rational’.

At the heart of liberalism – and of its forerunner the Enlightenment – is the rejection of the Judeo-Christian belief that human nature is flawed, believing instead that we are born good and wise; although later warped and corrupted by parents and society. These ideas became popular in the 1960s, especially in areas like education, which became child-centred. This led to the decline of discipline and undermined parental authority. However recent scientific discoveries in genetics – including the Human Genome Project – and in psychology have shown that human nature is indeed flawed. In religious jargon we are sinners; and science has proved it. (John Marsh, “‘The Liberal Delusion’ by John Marsh – synopsis”, Anglican Mainstream, December 2 2014, http://anglicanmainstream.org/the-liberal-delusion-by-john-marsh-synopsis/)

With this view of human nature, sin becomes an unnecessary and dirty, guilt inducing lie to keep us trapped, unable to flourish, rather than the fact of our own brokenness and need for healing. If human’s are essentially good then we are innocent until proven guilty. The problem, however, is that liberalism also promotes the idea that ‘morality is unnecessary’.

If we are good we do not need morality, restraints, regulations or religion. Many liberals regard moral rules as unproven, unscientific and having a traditional or religious basis; they maintain children should be free to make up their own minds on morals, without the influence of parents or schools. So undermining morality is consistent with liberal principles; the outcome is a society that is non-judgemental, value-free and amoral. (John Marsh, “‘The Liberal Delusion’ by John Marsh – synopsis”)

If we desire a society which is value-free and non-judgemental then the sort of penance that St. Benedict is proposing is bound to be out-dated and alien; this is religion at its most harmful! The wisdom of the Christian tradition, however, witnesses to our deep need to enact, embody and manifest that which is internal. We are symbolic creatures who benefit from ‘making visible that which is invisible’. This tradition of physicalising repentance is much more than proving to one another the truth and completeness of a transformation or ‘rebirth’, it is also about proving it to ourselves. We mark in history, physically, the momentous occasion of a decision; we sign a document, we submerge and re-emerge from water we gather witnesses to testify to a declaration of belief and change of heart/mind.

Our liberal culture would refuse this, however, because ‘history and tradition are unimportant’.

Many liberals regard the past as an era of ignorance, superstition and darkness best forgotten, and strive to free people from history and tradition. So in liberal societies there is a tendency for the past to be forgotten, and for history to be downgraded as a subject in schools. However history is necessary for our self-understanding and identity.

In my mind there is a more dangerous characteristic of our liberal society and it, ironically, shares this with other fanatical ideologies such as fascism and communism and that’s not only the forgetting of the past but the re-writing or re-interpreting of the past.

I have already outlined my discomfort of the projecting onto of the story of St Aelred of Rievaulx, reframing his ideas and ministry as overtly pro-homosexuality. Some have even gone as far as proclaiming St Aelred as ‘gay’. It’s wrong. Imagine, if I were in fifty years time, to promote the idea that Alan Turing was straight and he the way he lived his life was not what he truly wanted, there would be uproar and rightly so. If we view our travel through time as one of pure progress culturally, always becoming more and more enlightened then we will always feel the need to correct the stupid, narrow-minded ancestors and re-interpret them saying to ourselves,

What they meant to say was…

We cannot tell what they were thinking or seeing. We cannot teach them how to look at the world because they were different to us, not worse, different. We cannot colonise the past with our culture.

Indeed, when you explore monasticism as just one example, you discover that our fore-fathers and mothers made discoveries and solved problems we are struggling with today. There is a well-spring of wisdom we’d do well to draw from the past. We shoot ourselves in the foot when we reject the past as uninformed and bigoted; maybe it is us who have stepped back in our understanding of the world and ourselves as humanity.

Reflection

Making amends is a natural desire of human beings. We want people to show us that they regret their actions or words against us. Before we forgive we want to know that we can trust them again. In this way, the ‘satisfaction’ St. Benedict is proposing is legitimate and understandable. The problem comes when we project that onto God in His dealings with us.

God does not require us to prove to Him our repentance for He knows our hearts and knows when we are truly turning to Him or not. Penance is for each other not God. In this way the ‘satisfaction’ is about reconciling the community together and not about the earning the reality of God’s mercy upon the sinner. The prostrating is not about earning forgiveness but about rebuilding trust and re-bonding the division made by the transgression.

In our churches there are times when we divide ourselves and others off from one another. We say something, or do something which hurts, disappoints and upsets a brother or sister. Saying “sorry” doesn’t rebuild trust, it may help, but it doesn’t complete it. Physicalising regret communicates a genuine change of heart and mind to the other and rebuilds relationship. If someone is unable to suffer public humiliation they will never achieve humility, which, as we are continually reminded of in the Rule of St. Benedict, is the very heart of healthy communities and the very centre of the Kingdom of God.
Merciful Father, we confess our sinfulness and praise you for your unending love, grace and forgiveness of us. We thank you that you are the source of life and we are invited to drink from that well. We thank you for the perfect revelation of your love through Jesus Christ on the cross. We thank you for suffering in that way to show us your character and desire for relationship with us.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 35: weekly kitchen service

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The brothers should wait on one another.

What’s so wrong about actions?

For the last few weeks I’ve been engaging in my reformation tradition by reading some Martin Luther and studying Lutheran Theology. It’s always important to be aware of the traditions that shape you either consciously or unconsciously and to own those thoughts or philosophies for yourself. As I’ve read Luther and touched on other Reformation Theology I’ve re-engaged with the debate over ‘justification through faith or works’. This chapter in the Rule of St. Benedict, written by a Roman Catholic monk has something to say into this debate, particularly to those of us who are suspicious about ‘works’.

I find that we protestants get overly cautious around discussions about living out our faith as in anyway necessary, as though we may slip into talk about justification through works. As a Roman Catholic convert I don’t have this hang up. I find that the Bible is clear that if we do not show, in our actions, our faith then our faith is demeaned or lessened.

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.
But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith. (James 2:14-18)

I am aware that ‘justification by works’ is a particular thought that divorces our heart from our actions. Some people think that it doesn’t really matter what they believe as long as they do set rituals or actions and that makes them right before God; that the actions of a human make them righteous before God and not the actions of God Himself. The passage in James and what St. Benedict is proposing throughout his Rule says something very different: we need both faith to inform our actions and our actions to reveal our faith.

To err on the other side is to say, “I believe in Jesus and know that he died and rose again and has forgiven my sins” but then to not allow that impact one’s actions. This means that actions have no role to play in your relationship with God. This attitude has led to many ‘Christians’ acting in very odd and non-loving ways. Jesus had something very particular to say to them in the telling of the parable of the sheep and the goats.

We can talk all we like about ‘love’ and ‘hope’ as ideas but what does it mean to live these out? What actions best communicate such conceptual ideas? Our faith is established on the principle of Christ who said,

The greatest among you will be your servant. (Matthew 23:11)

The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.” (Luke 22:25-27)

We live out love, hope, faith in actions and particularly in service of others. If we do not serve others then we are not following Christ for he said,

Servants are not greater than their master. (John 13:16)

Being a servant in a Christian community is not about being open to abuse but is a mutual understanding that service is itself the position of power. Service, for Christians, should be the expression of the right use power. We should be trying, in Christian communities, to out-serve one another and rejoicing in the service of others as they act out the character of Christ the Servant King.

In this chapter St. Benedict repaints the picture of Jesus washing his disciples feet. This event must be seen as a modelling of correct behaviour and action within the Christian community. The washing of the feet is, in my eyes, just as important as the Last Supper that follows. To ‘do this in remembrance’ must also be connected with foot washing as it does to the Eucharist. Part of this scene in John’s gospel is Jesus’ exchange with Peter who refuses Christ’s service to him. Jesus rebukes Peter and says that he must allow Jesus to serve him or it’s tantamount to saying he doesn’t want to be in relationship with Jesus. We must never refuse the service of others, freely given and, therefore, freely received. Our actions are, despite what we would like to believe, reciprocal as we enter into the Kingdom of the free exchange of gift from one to another, no one being able to keep a record but trusting that all should give and all receive in abundance.

We must be careful, however, that we do not just perform the servant task but that the action flows out from the correct heart and understanding, by faith, of who Christ is. Our discipleship should lead us to serve others in love not as a duty but as natural response of thankfulness for Christ and who he is and what he did. We should, as well, be encouraging people to grow in their faith so that they can learn how to express that through loving service but we must also direct others and ourselves to ensure that all service is done from a place of faith.

That is why prayer is placed again at the heart of this, clearly sacramental, part of the life of the monastery. Before you begin the task you pray, three times, in front of others,

O God, come to my assistance. O Lord, make haste to help me. (Psalm 70:1)

It is why at the end of your time of service you pray, again, three times, in front of others,

Blessed are You, O Lord God, who did help me and console me. (Psalm 86:17)

These prayers should place God at the forefront of our minds as we do them. We ask that we would meet Christ in those that we serve and to know Christ knelt with us as we serve. We seek to recognise that we serve because Christ serves and we follow him.

Reflection

The life of discipleship is a total experience. What I mean is that it should impact every aspect of your being; physical as well as emotional and spiritual. We cannot divorce our humanity from our spirituality. If we say in our hearts, “Jesus is Lord” but do not clothe the naked, feed the hungry, look after the poor then we lie to ourselves and others. On the other hand,

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1-3)

Parish ministry continues to show me the many different ways we all struggle to walk the narrow path of Christ. We all fall short and all have our own blindness in our discipleship that is why we need to commit to one another in obedience and faithfulness to practising the art of becoming Christ-like, in heart and action.

Do we require too little of those who see themselves as part of the Church? I don’t mean in terms of time of service but rather requiring a Christ-like discipleship to root all ministry. I see too many churches happily encouraging voluntarily action of their church-goers but where do we require a mature faith to be at the heart of a desire to serve? Church-goers can continue to be physically part of a community and become active members of congregations without their faith being deepened or even properly started. We busy the people who turn up to our churches to get them involved but we rarely ask whether their hearts are in the right place. This then leads to PCC’s and committees being populated with people who have little faith or experience in the transformative power of Christ and the decisions of the Church become worldly rather than that of the Kingdom of God. There are people who do not have a relationship with God that informs all their choices. They look to worldy wisdom before Godly wisdom.

Loving Father of us all, thank you for coming in the form of a servant and leading us to right thinking and right action. Thank you for the model of Jesus who became in very nature a slave and humbled himself even to the point of death. Teach and lead us all to follow in his footsteps the way of the cross, narrow as it is.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Chapter 32: property and utensils

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No one shall treat monastic property carelessly or in a slipshod manner.

How do we care for creation?

In the previous chapter the cellarer is instructed to

…think of all the monastery’s property as if they were sacred chalices.

It is with this still ringing in our ear that we turn to consider all the monastery’s care for the material objects of life. Esther de Waal also comments,

At the end of chapter 4, which looked at the tools of good works, we were told that when we have used them without ceasing, day and night, and handled them faithfully, we hand them over and we receive our reward. Now we see how the ordinary tools of daily life are to be handled in the same way. (Esther de Waal, A Life Giving Way: a commentary on the rule of St Benedict (London: Continuum, 1995) p. 108)

What does a vow of poverty truly look like in a wealthy nation? Is our understanding of poverty relative to neighbours? I would want to suggest that a vow of poverty is to be understood as a vow of simplicity (this idea will be developed next week as we look at personal property amongst the monks.) For now it is worth reflecting on our attitude to property, to the material things of our own lives.

It has been said that we live in a ‘throw away society’; if something isn’t ‘perfect’ or working to our standards we discard it (usually to landfill!) We extend this mentality to our relationships as we increasingly see one another as purely material beings more and more akin to the objects we own and possess. This is, for me, another symptom of the sickness of where we find ourselves at this time. This is why, I suggest, we are happy with the rise of divorce and separation, the increased need for adoption and fostering, the continual need of prostitution, the medias use of the human form to sell products and the discussions over Assisted Dying Bill. As we live out the philosophy of individualism and relativism we see this objectifying of humanity; others are possessions to be treated in the same way as we treat a family heirloom or an electronic device.

The solution to this problem is not to just try and categorise what to objectify and what not to, for there is a chance we begin to divide up who should be treated as holy and who shouldn’t be but to sanctify all of creation. All things are to be treated with respect and care.

Before we run off in a certain direction and begin to fall into the error of pantheism, let me put up some guidance as to the practicalities. I am not suggesting that we worship other human beings or the material things of this world; we worship only the creator and not the creation. To name something as ‘holy’ is to draw it out from the rest of the world. When you handle something that is holy you understand that God cares for this and was part of its creation and it is a gift for you to enjoy. Like all of God’s gifts they are not to be possessed by you but by God who shares with you (again, more of this next week!)

It is the basic understanding that all creation, whether re-formed by humanity or organically grown in nature, is a gift from God to be used by us that leads us to treat all things as someone else’s property: God’s. If you go to someone’s house and you are a guest and you happen to break a mug there should be a pang of guilt or sadness for what you have broken is a possession of someone else. It is the concern of breaking something that is not yours that helps us to care for those objects. The same should be true in creation. The fear should not cripple us to not touch anything out of concern that we may break it but is there purely to guard us against the ‘slipshod’ manner of thinking everything is replaceable; this starts with objects and should extend to relationships… no relationship is replaceable!

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Possession

I am aware that this chapter and the next one may have a lot of overlap in terms of reflection but I want to add to this reflection on why we should handle objects with care something about ‘possession’.

To have possession of something is to be master of it; this is the same of objects and people. This is where the topic of spiritual possession enters our life. Few of us would think of ourselves as slaves and most of us would resist being told that we submit to another out of fear of losing our freedom. Slavery is, despite the Abolition Bill being past centuries ago, alive and kicking and we’re made aware of this in situations of prostitution, immigration violations, underpaid workforce, etc. There is another slavery that we’d rather not talk about because most of us are victims of it: the slavery to an ideology/philosophy. Commercialisation has made us slaves to the market and to materialism which erodes our relationships and hinders us from flourishing. I have, in the past, referred to this as an addiction and that is the power of our slave drivers.

In the Christian tradition there is a paradox which leads us to true freedom; in order to be free we must become slaves of Christ (1 Corinthians 7:22). We are to be possessed by Christ; he is the one who directs us and holds us. This should be a spiritual possession of his character like we think of a demon possessing a human being.

I was asked this week about demon possession, whether I believed it was a real and distinct thing from mental health issues. My answer is a clear, ‘yes’. I do not agree that all demon possessions in the gospel account are to be thought of as ‘mental health issues’. Jesus clearly talks of demons and personifies them. Jesus commands us to go and ‘cast out demons’ (e.g. Mark 16:17) and that is separate from healing. With that in mind I understand the complications of discerning which is which. Maybe we could begin talking about possession in a broader sense to help us connect with these passages in the gospels. What might it look like to stand and fight against the possession of person who has an addiction which controls them (and that includes addiction to buying certain products or of living a certain lifestyle)? It might mean that we bring Ephesians 6:10-12 to mind,

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armour of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.

What I’m suggesting is that St. Benedict is able to see sacred and mundane as synonymous due to his acceptance that there is a spiritual aspect to our reality and that the way to flourish in one realm is to flourish in the other. We’d do well to begin to encourage our communities to understand this and to pray for our true freedom by obeying the call of Christ to make us slaves of Him who cares and heals us.

Reflection

As a parish minister I am increasingly aware of the people of the congregation to whom I am called to serve. I am aware that they are not ‘mine’ but God’s and he has entrusted me (along with my bishop and fellow ministers) to care for them and that ‘when we have… handled them faithfully, we hand them over and we receive our reward.’ This sense is increasingly true of all people I meet and come in contact with; the members of the community in which I work, the people I interact with online. This is also true of the objects that I use; the keyboard sat in front of me, the pencil currently sat in a book I’m reading, that book, all of it to be handled as if I were to hand it back to someone who’s possession it is.

Our task, as Christians, is surely to also ensure that God takes rightful possession of all creation. That our battle to ‘gain ground’ is to claim things and people back for God and doing so is, in part about making them slaves but to know that if they were not his they’d be someone else’s and the slavery of God is true freedom.

Heavenly Father, come and set us free in the safety of your embrace. We submit to you and accept your guidance to lead us to life of eternity

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 28: those who do not change their ways despite much correction

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…if all this is to no avail, the abbot must wield the surgeon’s knife.

How do we reconcile?

It has not been easy to travel the last six weeks with the reflections on discipline, conflict and division. To have your prayer life shaped by the reading and meditating on such concerns, even hypothetically, causes a great burden to fall. I can’t wait until my prayers are shaped by utensils and hospitality but for now we must continue.

This week it is the heaviest of all the chapters on punishment. I will re-iterate a correction of the common understanding of excommunication for those of my readers who may have forgotten. Excommunication is not the total dismissing of a person from a community (well at least not in monastic life). Excommunication is aimed at being temporary and in this state the abbot still has contact and authority over the ‘wayward brother’; there is still hope of healing and a full re-instating. What is being discussed in this chapter, however, is the ‘surgeon’s knife’ (in another translation it is read as ‘amputation’).

I preached on Sunday about reconciliation, a theme the Lord continues to bring me to reflect on. I said in that sermon that I consider true reconciliation, the uniting of two parties with conflicting views and beliefs, to be humanely impossible. There is no argument or rationality that has ever changed someone’s deeply held convictions, those things that shape our identity. This is a matter of a spiritual shift; the work of reconciliation is a deep transformation down in the secret of all parties’ hearts. This takes time, trust and a transcendent commitment to the work of peace beyond rational thought and understanding.

There is obviously a human aspect to this work; the choice is left solely on the part of both conflicting parties to participate. This is understandable as all relationships are based on a free choice to be ‘bonded’ to another. If there was no freedom of choice then the relationship would not be genuine. Love requires freedom to exist. To be ‘re-bonded’ (which is what reconciliation literally means) requires that same freedom. Reconciliation cannot be forced upon anyone.

If we consider this in the context of peace talks between any warring parties at the moment (Israel/Palestine, ISIS/Christians, Russia/Ukraine) we can begin to see how purely rational, intellectual peace negotiations continual fail. Legislation which forces ‘peace’ is a fake peace and never a true reconciliation. What is required to encourage real reconciliation is a spiritual change on both sides; a commitment to attempt to freely choose to love. For humans who struggle to trust in the unseeable future, the miraculous changes in our spiritual core or the change of the lens through which we see the world, this reconciliation is impossible. We cannot imagine how we could ever trust someone who has hurt us so severely and so we resist. We begin the stalemate conversations of

They move first.

No They move first.

It seems strange, at first, to read in this chapter that it is after advice, the use of Scripture, excommunication and even the extreme: flogging that St. Benedict suggests

If even this has no effect, let him try greater things – his prayers and those of the other brothers – so that the Lord may cure the sick brother, for he can do all things.

There is a great realism here in how St. Benedict sees correction taking place. He knows, like us, that we will try all human avenues first (praying that they will work, of course) but in the end we must stop and invite God in to work in the place where only God can work. There will be times when the ‘sickness’ can be cured simply and we are encouraged to participate in that healing work through action. Then there is the time when all possibilities have been explored and you pass the patient onto the expert.

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Anointing with oil

All of this makes me think about the role of oil in liturgical settings.

(bear with me)

The use of oil is a contentious issue and one that not many people think much about. There are specific occasions when oil is required: baptism, confirmation, ordination, healing and the Last Rites. The biblical understanding of anointing with oil is not clear. It is mentioned 20 times in the whole canon and there is a distinction between ordinary oil and ‘anointing oil’. This anointing oil must be kept holy and separate,

”It shall not be used in any ordinary anointing of the body, and you shall make no other like it in composition; it is holy, and it shall be holy to you. Whoever compounds any like it or whoever puts any of it on an unqualified person shall be cut off from the people.” (Exodus 30:32-33)

There are strict rules in the Law of Moses as to the use of this oil but in the New Testament there is very little mention or use of oil. The disciples use oil on the sick (Mark 6:13) and James, in his letter, advises its use on the sick too (James 5:14). God is said to use oil on Jesus in the letter to the Hebrews,

“Your throne, O God, is forever and ever,
and the righteous sceptre is the sceptre of your kingdom.
You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness;
therefore God, your God, has anointed you
with the oil of gladness beyond your companions.” (Hebrews 1:8-9)

My understanding, having read both Scripture and Church History is that anointing oil is to be used on people who are to be set apart; that is why we do it at baptism, confirmation and ordination. The use of oil in the ministry of healing and preparation for death is to set the sick person under the complete care of God. The use of oil in healing ministry is to be done cautiously due to an overuse and, therefore, belittling of its symbolic significance.

James, in his letter, is clear that prayer for the sick is what will save them but he does encourage anointing. So which is it?

I would want to say that the use of anointing oil is symbolic of the complete handing over of a patient to the mercy of God. This maintains an honouring of medical professions and the human intervention on diseases. We can pray whilst attempting human medical support and God will honour that but there comes a time in illness when doctors cannot do anymore. This is, of course, a particularly sensitive issue at the moment and I will not repeat my view on the Assisted Dying Bill. It is at this time of the end of medical support that anointing is to be done. This could be done when the patient decides to no longer receive medication or at the point the doctors no longer offer any help.

Anointing becomes the physical ritual that marks the end of looking to humans for help and the naming of our full trust in God to act in this situation. This is not to say that we do not trust God when we seek human support, God uses humans in his work, but there comes a time when God must work the impossible; this, in the case of illness, is either to heal miraculously or to guide a person into the rest of death. I still believe that only God can do that leading and if we humans attempt to take that control we overstep ourselves and it is called murder/suicide.

if we look at St. Benedict’s thoughts on discipline then this final removal of a brother from the monastery is a death of one kind. This should be the absolute last resort and must be done with the greatest revelation of the wisdom of God. It should not be done lightly or without the handing over of the situation totally to God. The burden of responsibility placed upon the abbot cannot be overstated and the pastoral sensitivity in these cases is paramount.

If we take the analogy of choice in death a little further here, then I would suggest that it is not the choice of the brother or the abbot to break this bond between them but the choice of God and there must be that time of waiting for God to act in the situation. This time cannot be rushed and a great deal of listening must be done. A service where the brother is anointed would be an appropriate symbolic act and we wait, in the midst of that suffering, for the hope of God to be revealed.

Reflection

In all moments of reconciliation there needs to be a deliberate stepping into the mysterious, miraculous hope of God. Without this submission to transcendence real reconciliation, in my mind, cannot be achieved. It is a step of faith into the unknown which, from our side, is always into darkness. Hope and light will be found if two things are present; God’s mercy and care as well as the choice of the conflicting party. The mercy of God is trustworthy and true and can be relied upon. The free choice to participate from our opposition is more tricky. More often than not it requires us to submit anyway as a sign of our desire to be in relationship with them. This is a tough task and we resist it more often than not.

I want to pray for the big conflicts currently being played out in the world today. I pray for both Israelis and Palestinians that they would cease the cycle of violence. I pray for ISIS and the Christians fleeing Mosul that they would succumb to the peace and love of God. I pray for Russia and Ukraine that they would know the mercy and care of God and enter into the beautiful dance of community and peace.

Come, Lord Jesus

Chapter 23: excommunication for faults

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If a brother is found to be stubborn, disobedient, proud or a murmurer…

When is enough enough?

As we head towards the middle of the year and, having prayed through the Rule of St. Benedict for 24 weeks, I have begun to ask:

What happens when someone fails to live in accord with others?

We all hold some ideals of behaviour and moral decisions, however loose they are. We are all soon aware, after spending any time with other people, that we all fall short of our own expectations and the expectations of others. It is easy to beat ourselves up over our repetitive failures and disappointments and easy also to point out the faults of others. Even if the ‘law’ does not exist in concrete terms there are always guidelines or expectations within a group of correct ways to behave and when those expectations are not met there is a cry for justice or a lesson to be learnt.

Having reflected a lot on discipline over the last two weeks and how I respond to different forms of it being exercised on me personally, I have found that I appreciate it when people package criticism or complaint within a reminder of deep and real relationship. I wrote two weeks ago about the need to be known; to be in a long term trusting relationship, where character formation can happen. Our deep changes in character cannot be done in a vacuum or in some distant, business-like environment but in deep and loving relationships. I respond to people who have committed to me before they tell me my faults.

It is important not to automatically jump over the first stage of St. Benedict’s guidance to admonition. The Bible suggests if one hurts or causes conflict within the Body of Christ then they should be told, privately, on two occasions. This is harder than many of us are willing to give credit for. To go and tell someone directly and in love, in case of falling into reproof ourselves, is tough and vulnerable. It is easier to gossip and moan behind their back and then gang up with others and expel them… I sadly speak from experience.

The ‘failings’ of a fellow Christian is easier to speak about when the matter is small but we put it off and imagine it will be a one off. Rarely, if at all, are the large indiscretions not preceded by smaller minor offences. There is always that first sign of trouble. Take the story of Cain as an example.

After Cain and Abel take their offering to God and God prefers Abel’s to Cain’s, Cain’s ‘countenance fell’ (Genesis 4:5); he gave up. It was that small thing that shows he had allowed envy and jealousy into his heart. It was this small moment when he gave in to that voice in his head which said,

God loves Abel more than you because you’re… and he’s… It’s not fair.

That small paranoid voice that demands more attention or interprets others actions wrongly is a small seed which can fester and grow. It can quickly escalate into bitterness and anger and then to murder.

The question is when do you say something? When is enough enough?

In my family I was taught it was easier to talk about a small, relatively isolated issue before it embeds within someone’s character/personality and before it gets tightly woven into multiple and varying examples of actions and choices; before everything gets complicated and muddied. I was also taught it was easier to apologies at this stage rather than having to go back over many incidents. If you can acknowledge a problem early on it is easier to manage/‘master’ (Gen 4:7) It’s as God says to Cain,

If you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.

Resisting selfish instincts is hard work and to keep watch over them is a full time occupation that is why we are put in communities, into families. The correction, however, must be done with love, which is patient and kind, not envious or boastful, etc. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) To face wrongly expressed ‘truths’ is often painful and unhelpful in developing in character. What is needed is both grace and truth.

So when is enough enough? I’d say when it is easier to say something gently and patiently rather than when it is out of control and ingrained.

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Ministry of Reconciliation

After a year of being an ordained priest I have already had my share of conflict and need for reconciliation. This aspect of priestly ministry has been important in my personal understanding of vocation. The ordinal states,

Formed by the word, they [priests] are to call their hearers to repentance and to declare in Christ’s name the absolution and forgiveness of their sins. (The Ordination of Priests, Common Worship: Ordination Services, The Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England: The Prayer Book as Proposed in 1928; The Alternative Service Book 1980; both of which are copyright © The Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England)

To reconcile warring parties is to stand between them and hold them together in peace. This position means that you can become enemy to all sides as you try to mediate between them. Reconciliation is painful but it is to follow Christ in His ultimate work on the cross. Paul writes in Colossians,

For in him [Jesus] all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:19-20)

Over the next six weeks we will be reflecting on judgement, punishment and forgiveness but I want to begin by saying that the severity of punishment of excommunication must be understood and exercised within the complete mercy and grace of God who has reconciled all things in Christ. What that means is that all things are held in their correct place and relationship by Christ. Without this acceptance that God is working out that reconciliation, that bringing together of all things into harmony and right relationship with one another, then excommunication is a further severing of relationship.

Reflection

Conflict is hard and gut-wrenchingly painful. I have sat through break downs of relationship in churches, in marriages, in families and in businesses. I have been divided within myself as I see two friends or groups that I care for turn their backs on one another and vow never to speak again. I have tried to sit between people and encourage dialogue and peace and I have failed on many occasions. For me, peace and reconciliation can only occur when relationships are deep; deeper than the superficial exchanges we now label ‘relationship’. We, as a society, now settle for second rate relationships and miss out on sustaining and life-giving intimacy because we are afraid of the risk that it takes to enter such a commitment.

Loving Father, Prince of Peace, thank you for being the source of peace. Thank you for the blessed Trinity, community of love and commitment, our epitome of relationship. We are sorry for the times we cut ourselves off from others by our attitude, actions and words. Forgive us and bring us back to your love where we are held and transformed.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Eternal Opus

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He made no attempt to record his work,
He left no mark in wood or stone,
No canvas or parchment marked by His hand.
Happy to risk anonymity, myth,
Trusting the eternal work to temporary beings.

Each word we write,
Each image we paint,
Marks of our existence
On this passing world.
If we are to live
Past the death so strong,
We must leave memorials
For generations yet to come.

But He has not finished,
His work not done.
He continues to plant,
Paint and sing.
His masterpiece is growing,
And will last forever.
His great opus
Offered for all to see.

Written for the annual Burning Fences weekend away held at Rivendale, Pickering, from Friday 25th – Sunday 27th April 2014 to compliment a reading of Jean Giono’s ‘The Man Who Planted Trees‘.

Chapter 7: humility

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…Without doubt, we should understand that climbing as showing us that we go up by humbling ourselves and down by praising ourselves.

What is humility?

Here we are. After 6 chapters introducing authority, obedience and living with others, St. Benedict dedicates a whole chapter to humility. Reading this chapter feels like it’s a summary of all that has been said before; he even repeats ideas,

The first step of humility is taken when a man obeys all of God’s commandments (c.f. The Prologue)

The third step of humility is attained when a man, from love of God, obediently submits to a superior in imitation of the Lord (c.f. Chapter 1)

The eighth step of humility is reached when a monk only does that which the common rule of the monastery or the example of his elders demands (c.f. Chapter 1 and Chapter 2)

The ninth step of humility is achieved when a monk, practicing silence, only speaks when asked a question… The tenth step of humility is reached when a man restrains himself from laughter and frivolity (c.f. Chapter 5)

I find myself reflecting on humility each week as I read the Rule of St. Benedict. I discover I am caught between a balking at an emotional/spiritual form of self mutilation and a deep desire to explore unchartered territory of anonymity. When I become aware of my mental gymnastics over this issue I am prompted to remind myself of what ‘humility’ is and is not.

Humility is rooted in the Latin humus, meaning “ground”. I find it helpful (rightly or wrongly) to rename it ‘grounded’. To be humble is not to become a doormat with no desire to establish an identity but rather a true and frank acknowledgement to your standing in the world. Once we begin to understand that to know who you truly are we can move away from our natural desire to reject St. Benedict’s twelve steps to humility. This is not to say that humility should not carry some fear and discomfort for us humans, naturally bent towards pride and selfish individualism of many forms. The process to humility is about stripping off false identities and claiming rightful ones, spiritual ones.

There are thoughts which spring to mind as I talk about natural desires and identity. The first is a thought picked up from Gregory Boyd in his book ‘God of the Possible’. He suggests,

Genes, parenting, and spiritual forces do condition who we are. But for believers whose spirits have been regenerated by the Holy Spirit these conditioning factors cannot determine who we are unless we choose to allow them to do so. (Gregory Boyd, God of the Possible: a biblical introduction to the open view of God (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2000))

Boyd is saying that we are conditioned by biological and experiential factors to do and be certain things but none of these factors should control or oppress us. By the Holy Spirit (and that is the emphasis) we are set free from conditioning factors to be transformed, strengthened to follow the way of Christ. We should no longer claim, ‘I can’t do that. It’s not how I was made.’ God knows of what you are made and that is why He sent His Holy Spirit to help us.

The second thought comes from reading Leonardo and Clodivus Boff’s book ‘Introducing Liberation Theology’. There’s a quote which resonated with the reflections I’ve been having whilst reading this chapter.

The gospel is not aimed chiefly at “modern” men and women with their critical spirit, but first and foremost at “nonpersons,” those whose basic dignity and rights are denied them. (Leonardo Boff and Clodivus Boff, Introducing Liberation Theology (Tunbridge Wells: Burns & Oates, 1987) p.8)

I do not want to belittle or ignore the main aim of the Boffs’ statement, that of the extreme poor in our world, but I was drawn to the term “nonpersons”. This phrase reminds me of John Zizioulas’ work on Christian anthropology particularly an excellent article entitled ‘Human Capacity and Human Incapacity: A Theological Exploration of Personhood’. Zizioulas articulates a distinction between humans and persons; one is a biological phenomenon the other is a metaphysical reality achieved through communion with God. It is through this divine communion, in baptism, Eucharist and the Body of Christ (the Church) that one transforms from ‘human’ to ‘person’.

I want to suggest that the gospel is for “modern” men and women precisely because they too are “nonpersons”, the difference is that they deny personhood themselves rather than having them denied by others. The path St. Benedict sets out in this chapter on humility is a process for all people to develop from human to person through the task of community.

Ultimately, St. Benedict’s process to spiritual growth and deeper communion with God is set out at the beginning of the Rule as he describes the ideal monks, the Cenobites, ‘who live in a monastery waging their war under a rule and an abbot’. To live a life of discipleship in the Kingdom of God one must be obedient to a community and an abbot. Humility will arrive after one has journeyed the difficult and treacherous road through community.

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Humbling Ourselves

I would love to explore each rung of St. Benedict’s ladder to humility but I am both daunted by such a task and ill-equipped. I do want to spend a few moments, however, reflecting on St. Benedict’s analogy.

I was struck by St. Benedict’s use of direction in his depiction of the ladder to humility. He suggests we climb to the ‘highest peak of humility’ which is a journey away from the ground and up to heaven. The model I would tend to consider is the depiction of Christ’s humility in Philippians 2:3-11

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus, who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death – even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Christ humbled himself and came down. In the gospels Christ describes humility as putting yourself lower and, in so doing, paradoxically being raised through exaltation by God. Humility, in my mind has always been a descent into that ‘humus’/grounding.

This leads me to another reflection I’ve had about humility; The analogy depicts hard work and intentionality about achieving humility. There are set, pragmatic steps to take to arrive at this state of humility. This unsettles me. I am not suggesting that St. Benedict is wrong or misguided in his teaching but I am rather challenged in my pre-conceived attitude to humility.

My question is, ‘can I humble myself?’ What I mean by this is, is the process of humbling an act we do or an act that is done to us by others and God? The passage from Philippians clearly says Jesus ‘humbled himself’ but is that possible because He is the Son of God or is it an invitation that we should od the same. The difference between humbling yourself and being humbled may seem pedantic and semantic but I think, in relation to St. Benedict’s call to climb the ladder to humility, it is important to ensure where our focus is. Are we to look at humbling ourselves or rather look at living in community and, in doing this discovering we are humbled?

I would want to suggest that humility is achieved by living out the life of obedience in a community, committing to the actions of considering others before yourself, seeking the common good for those to whom you have committed higher than selfish ambition and vain conceit; in short, to love, truly and in imitation of Christ. If you do this then you will find yourself humbled. These steps to humility by St. Benedict are like the Beatitudes in Matthew’s gospel,

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

We read these wrong if we feel we need to mourn, to be meek, to be peacemakers, etc. in order to be blessed. Our focus is wrong if we think that the point of these statements is to show us how to be blessed, as if they are some self-help programme. These are statements of truth not guidance as to how to live your life. These are more about virtues than about practical steps to self improvement. It’s the paradox and challenge of the life of faith in Jesus Christ; you achieve the goal (salvation, arrival into heaven, enlightenment) by not focussing on achieving that goal.
Community is the same,

Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (London: SCM Press, 1954) p15-16)

Organic community is not a product, not an end result. Organic community – belonging – is a process, a conversation… It is not the product of community that we are looking for. It is the process of belonging that we long for. (Joseph R. Myers, Organic Community: Creating a Place Where People Naturally Connect (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2007) p125)

Reflection

Looking at community within the parish context becomes complicated when you’re aim and focus is building community, as if it were a product or goal to achieve. Community is the process of loving others; the focus is on doing the process rather than achieving the product. It’s like art: an artist may have an idea of what the piece may look like or express but whilst working on it they must cast that dream to one side and engage fully in the task of creating. Then the art is more beautiful and surprising, even to the artist themselves.

What St. Benedict is placing before us is a series of activities to do, not to achieve humility in ourselves but to encourage the growth of community around us and in that rich soil the seed of humility is grown, hidden even from our own eyes until, at the end, when the Reaper comes for the harvest we will find, with Him, that we have born good fruit.

Transformer of humans, Come by Your Holy Spirit and guide me in the way of love and obedience. That, in doing this I will be rightfully humbled even to death and thus be exalted by my Heavenly Father, for His glory and His Kingdom.

Come, Lord Jesus.