a prayer for the church

really, i am not picking on the episcopal church. it is merely a rather visible example of what one finds in so much of the protestant world today, in which one may receive the communion cup from an avowed hindu after not having recited the creed because it is no longer found relevant.

it is in this context which i offer the following prayer for the church, compiled in 1799 by the rev. dr. william smith for the diocese of connecticut as part of the service for the installation of a rector:

"ALMIGHTY God, who hast built thy Church upon the foundation of the Apostles and Prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone; Grant that, by the operation of the Holy Ghost, all Christians may be so joined together in unity of spirit, and in the bond of peace, that they may be an holy temple acceptable unto thee. And especially to this Congregation present, give the abundance of thy grace; that with one heart they may desire the prosperity of thy holy Apostolic Church, and with one mouth may profess the faith once delivered to the Saints. Defend them from the sins of heresy and schism; let not the foot of pride come nigh to hurt them, nor the hand of the ungodly to cast them down. And grant that the course of this world may be so peaceably ordered by thy governance, that thy Church may joyfully serve thee in all godly quietness; that so they may walk in the ways of truth and peace, and at last be numbered with thy Saints in glory everlasting; through the merits of the same thy blessed Son Jesus Christ, the gracious Bishop and Shepherd of our souls, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the same Holy Ghost, one God, world without end. Amen."

Although written to be used in a particular congregation, it seems useful for the wider church as well.

thoughts towards independence day

in bellingham, on elm, waiting for a bus to take me to fairhaven. the view towards the north is a regular rhythm of porch piedments. the counter rhythm is runners making the most of this long day in a short summer.

the bus comes and transfers me to fairhaven: everyone is speaking the patois of the pacific northwest to a soundtrack of sufyan phillips. we are all heartbreakingly cool, spiraling around a core of nihilism. the headlines say we are more optimistic this week, but i feel as if i am at a new masque of the red death, where the little face-masques on bamboo elegant handles have been replaced by bmw's or saabs or mercedes-benzes. we handle them by power steering wheels, but they just let us feel we're in control. all the roads we follow so carefully lead to baghdad.

around the world this sunny morning, bombs are falling, dawn's early light still challenged by the rocket's red glare.

here in the cafe, we are safe. smoking is not allowed.

reading numbers after easter

in december last year i started using the 1943 american daily office lectionary because i wanted to go through the book of ezekiel again. these days we're reading the book of numbers each morning.

reading numbers these days after easter is a very wise choice. after the miracle of deliverance that is the passover ("the horse and rider he has thrown into the sea!") comes not the promised land but the desert, the wilderness. of course the people of god do our usual bitching and moaning. but as the readings this week remind us, the enemy never doubts the reality of what is happening. although the children of israel then just as we now complain about just about everything, doubting their and our salvation, balak and company never seem to doubt for a moment the necessity of stopping us and them.

i am disappointed that the wiser-than-the-writers-of-genesis editors of the lectionary decided to demythologize the story, leaving out balaam's ass. alas. we forget that the holy one loves not just us folks who smugly call ourselves, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, homo sapiens. we would do well to pay attention to what the rest of creation is revealing to us.

pentecost ember saturday

i was somewhat amazed when i did a google image search for priest to find an illustration for this post. i know that the christian priesthood is little regarded these days, but i didn't think it would take me to the fifth page to find a suitable image.

but that difficulty only points out more the appropriateness of this prayer written by father william doyle,s.j., m.c., on this pentecost ember saturday:

"o my god, pour out in abundance thy spirit of sacrifice upon thy priests.
it is both their glory and their duty to become victims,
to be burnt up for souls,
to live without ordinary joys,
to be often the objects of distrust, injustice, and persecution.

the words they say every day at the altar,
"'his is my body, this is my blood,'
grant them to apply to themselves:
'i am no longer myself, i am jesus, jesus crucified.
i am, like the bread and wine, a substance no longer itself,
but by consecration another."

o my god, i burn with desire for the sanctification of thy priests.
i wish all the priestly hands which touch thee were hands whose touch is gentle and pleasing to thee,
that all the mouths uttering such sublime words at the altar should never descend to speaking trivialities.

"let priests in all their person stay at the level of their lofty functions,
let every man find them simple and great, like the holy eucharist,
accessible to all yet above the rest of men.
o my god, grant them to carry with them from the mass of today,
a thirst for the mass of tomorrow,
and grant them, ladened themselves with gifts,
to share these abundantly with their fellow men. amen."

if this prayer were fulfilled, the it might more easily follow that the same "level of their lofty functions" might also be fulfilled in all the body of christ.

a new project

for the past two years or so i've been blessed to attend, when in eureka springs, a writers' group that meets at studio 62. besides enjoying the fascinating diversity of the group's writings, i've been disciplined to write something every week. part of the results have been the blog the ring of the lord.

having finished that series, i've decided to try to emulate john keble, whose series of poems, the christian year was very popular in the 19th century. i don't expect my work to become as popular as his, but i do think that the kind of thinking it will make me do will be very helpful in at least my own formation in the mind of christ. i hope that the blog will be helpful to others as well.

pentecost ember days

one of the reasons j. michael matkin and i became such good friends was discovering that we both read t.s. eliot's four quartets at the ember days. for a while we put on public readings of them in a coffee house in bellingham at the four seasons, within an evensong with readings. i was delighted therefore to find this string quartet by patrick handler based on east coker.

it makes me want to do the same thing in eureka springs. (by the way, michael's not-updated-frequently-enough blog is at aidan's ghost.

whit-week

and what, you might well wonder, is that picture. it is a sheep door. i am posting it because it illustrates today's (whit tuesday's) gospel. and i like that whitsunday, pentecost, lingers a bit, that it has an octave.

you see, for me the fifty days have passed rather too quickly. they have been great big ol' days, starting with a huge rain which, although it certainly could remind one of one's baptism and the need to be thankful, also moved the lighting of the new fire inside, where i was so excited about the eve of easter that i forgot the psalms in the vigil.

now, fifty-two days later, i find myself still on pivot rock road, where i had not expected to be able to stay, and where i celebrated the eve of pentecost amongst the green fire of beltane and said the kneeling prayers of pentecost vespers and still found that i wanted more of this amazing season.

so i am happy that the gelasian sacramentary and the apostolic constitutions gave us proper readings to celebrate monday and tuesday of this week. then pope gelasius reiterated the importance of the ember days this week, and a few hundred years later proper readings for thursday were added, making this a week for considering what happened, how were we changed during the great fifty days, and what lies ahead of us as ministers of the glory of the holy one. (the first octaves were in the west those of easter and pentecost, in the east that of the epiphany; pretty clearly days of recollection for the newly baptized.)

it is in this context that i found perhaps the most meaningful readings of these last few days amongst the texts for the first vespers of pentecost:

". . . thou shalt remember that thou wast a bondsman in egypt." (deuteronomy 16:12a)
and
". . . reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." (romans 8:18)

i am no longer in egypt; i may find myself in a desert, i may chose to be in a desert, but i am free. the revelation of the glory awaits.

rogation days

the three days before the feast of the ascension have been called since the sixth century rogation days, which many of us have probably forgotten if we had ever heard of them. yet they are days which seem to have considerable spiritual significance beyond what appears, perhaps,on the surface.

their background is fascinating in itself, since both their time and the usual content of their prayers--rogation means praying, or supplicating--originally had very different associations.

in 470 there were devastating earthquakes following a volcanic eruption, and mamertus, bishop of vienne, called for three days of "litanies" for relief. the prayers were considered successful.

the christian tradition of litanies seems to have originated around 375, when they are spoken of by st. basil the great as innovative penitential services. their wider content as more than penitential prayers seems to have been originated by st. john chrysostom as an orthodox response to arian responsive, sung, processional prayers.

as prayers on the three days before the ascension, however, they quickly lost their connection to volcanoes and earthquakes, and their popularity spread through gaul to england, where they were adopted by the council of cloveshoo in 741.

the most usual prayer for the days in the english world is thomas cramner's english litany of 1544, as it has been adapted through the years and throughout the english speaking church.

we have come to associate that litany--"the great litany" in the english prayer book tradition--with days of penitance, and it is now most often sung on the first sundays of advent and lent. but it originally was used as a sort of general intercession in the vernacular as part of regular sunday worship, a position it still holds, in theory, in the church of england. cramner was aware of the role of litanies in the eastern church, in which the deacon and congregation sing responsive prayers. his liturgy, however, combined intercessions from eastern sources with roman and lutheran prayers, as well as those of his own composing.

in the reign of elizabeth 1, the praying of that litany, in procession around the parish boundaries, was required on the rogation days of each parish. in the gallic countries, the litany most often included requests for the prayers of many saints which were dropped from the english litany by the reformers. these days we are much more likely to pray the litany along a much smaller route, with such changes as our current theological squeemishness seems to require.

and, the rogation days have come to be more and more concerned with the prospering of our crops, with the fruit of the earth, not about avoiding earthquakes, although one could i suppose argue that those are two sides of the same coin. one can seen this in one of the 1928 american prayer book collects for the days:

"almighty god, who hast blessed the earth that it should be fruitful and bring forth whatsoever is needful for the life of man, and hast commanded us to work with quietness, and eat our own bread; bless the labours of the husbandman, and grant such seasonable weather that we may gather in the fruits of the earth, and ever rejoice in thy goodness, to the praise of thy holy name; through jesus christ our lord. amen."

but there is i think an appropriateness to praying for the earth on these days which recognizes part of the vastness of salvation. just as the incarnation was not only for us sinful men, neither was the ascension just for us redeemed men. all creation takes part in this great salvation, and our prayers on these days recognizes that wonder.

moving feasts

i was surprised saturday to find the ninth of may listed as the feast day of gregory of nazianzus, who is usually called in the orthodox church gregory the theologian. i am accustomed to celebrating his feast on the 25th of january, just before the feast of the the three holy heirarchs. a check in wikipedia told me it was just a mistake: the western church once thought gregory had died on the ninth of may.

but i was particularly glad to be reminded of gregory because i am currently reading a clumsily written but insightful book by ephraim radner and philip turner, the fate of communion. one of the most important things the book says, i think, is found in one of turner's notes: ". . . the most serious issue in respect to ecclesial integrity and tolerable diversity that faces the anglican communion does not concern women's ordination or the ethics of sex, but attempts to diminish or rid ecusa's book of common prayer of the use of the trinitarian name, father, son, and holy spirit." (n. 21, page 125)

some of the most shocking words in the liturgy of st. john chrysostom, one of the holy hierarchs, called a doctor of the church in the west, come after communion, when the faithful chant, "we have seen the true light; we have received the heavenly spirit; we have found the true faith, worshiping the undivided trinity, for the trinity has saved us." unfortunately, even among those who call themselves christians in these days of post-modern non-dogmatic absolute dogmaticism, the idea of there being a "true light," a "true faith," is an anathema. even more unfortunately, within what calls itself christianity these days there is very little real belief in salvation. we are not saved. we have just become inculturated. we want to be seen as just as nice as anyone else.

turner has succinctly described this situation in an article in first things.

most unfortunately, this concern for our own acceptance rather than concern for the salvation of the world lets the devil take the hindmost. we can always use a good dose of gregory's passionate concern for truth, true light, true faith, and true love, which is not willing that any should perish.

the creation of the earth

today in the religion of american consumerism is "earth day." i have been amazed at how many products, from television networks to aluminum foil manufactuers, have become "green" this week.

the church takes a somewhat different view of the earth. it is part of creation, the part of creation over which mankind is given dominion. this dominion of the earth is of course a problem for us, and has been for a very long time. never willing to curb our consumerism, we want the very things we are told are not ours. you have probably heard this story. it is sometimes called "the fall."

proper dominion is revealed to us in what most translations of the gospels call "the kingdom of god" or in matthew's gospel, "the kingdom of heaven," the sacred name being considered by matthew too holy to even insinuate. a better translation might be "the dominion of god," not only because it means much the same thing but even more importantly because then the parables of the kingdom become parables of the dominion and we are told how we should exercise our relationship to the rest of creation.

the liturgy has a daily reminder of our role within creation, not as something apart of it but as particularly iconic creatures. each day we are given the opportunity to sing:

Benedicite, omnia opera Domini:
"O all ye Works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Angels of the Lord, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.

O ye Heavens, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Waters that be above the firmament, bless ye the
Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O all ye Powers of the Lord, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Sun and Moon, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Stars of heaven, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Showers and Dew, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Winds of God, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Fire and Heat, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Winter and Summer, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Dews and Frosts, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Frost and Cold, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Ice and Snow, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Nights and Days, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Light and Darkness, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Lightnings and Clouds, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.

O LET the Earth bless the Lord: * yea, let it praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Mountains and Hills, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O all ye Green Things upon the earth, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Wells, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Seas and Floods, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Whales, and all that move in the waters, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O all ye Fowls of the air, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O all ye Beasts and Cattle, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Children of Men, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.

O LET Israel bless the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Priests of the Lord, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Servants of the Lord, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye Spirits and Souls of the Righteous, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.
O ye holy and humble Men of heart, bless ye the Lord: * praise him, and magnify him for ever.

Let us bless the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost: * praise him, and magnify him for ever."

maundy thursday: night-ruler

"and god made . . . the lesser light to rule the night." (gen. 1:16)

this moon,
this full, nisan moon,
is full as no other moon can be.

it is brimfull,
as cana's stone jars.

this full moon,
"the fourteenth day of the first month,
at even,
is the lord's passover."

by this moon's light
the angel of death saw the blood
on the door posts
and the mothers of egypt saw the death masks
on their first-borns.

this moon lighted the way for judas,
and it was night.

this moon, rising, watched joseph of arimathea
entomb the messiah,
sealing the entrance with moon-round stone.
this moon, setting, watched the myrh-bearing women
hurry to the tomb,
finding the stole rolled away.

is, i wonder,
is this full moon willful?
has, i wonder,
has this moon chosen such sights?

i think not.
rather i think this full moon,
night-ruler though she be,
groaneth with all creation
to see the redemption of all.

how often, i wonder, does this same full moon
whose cold light fell on james, and john,
and peter, sleeping,
how often lightens me,
sleeping despite the groans around me?

"my ways are not your ways, says the lord:" thoughts in the night about the feast of st. gregory the great

my earliest introduction to the church bigger than the enlightenment congregationalism of walnut street baptist, a severely georgian building filled with the hymns of watts and, at least in the evenings or wednesdays, of crosby, was in the modestly romanesque blessed sacrament (roman catholic) church. at walnut street the choir entertained us with anthems and contatas by handel and stainer, standing up front behind the pulpit and in front of the baptistry, all the while attired in robes that coordinated well with the adam green walls. at blessed sacrament the choir was invisible, but filled the dark red brick space with ethereal, heavenly, music that wounds its way amongst the plaster virgin and attendent saints to join the angels and archangels and all the company of heaven in one great hymn of unending praise.

i knew this was holy music because on the christmas eves i attended midnight mass at blessed sacrament, snow would be falling when we left in obedience to "ite. missa est. alleluia."

that music was of course gregorian chant, not written by pope st. gregory the great (ca. 540-604) but developed and systemized and encouraged by him.


these days neither gregorian chant nor gregory the man are so widely appreciated as they were from the time he, among other achievements, saved rome from the lombards, until my childhood, a period of thirteen and a half centuries.

it is about this change of attitude towards gregory that is so much of and so representative of our "modern thought" that occupies my meditation in the night watches early in the morning of his feast.

he really did exhibit in his own life the humility that let him honestly call himself the servant of the servants of god, yet he exercised the office of the roman papacy in a way that tenaciously upheld the primacy of the roman see. he did this largely because he had been an ambassador, the apocrisiarius, of pelagius ii to constantinople and was convinced that the eastern empire was hopelessly decadent.

he was very successful in strengthening the church in spain, baul, and north italy. he encouraged the spread of benedictine monasticism. he was most successful in the conversion of the english, sending augustine with forty monks from his own monastery.

his writing was extremely influential, ranging from topics such as his "liber regulae pastoralis," which described his vision of the pastoral life of a bishop, the pastor of souls, to the organization of the entire roman catholic order and worship, which in part continues even after vatican ii.

i cannot imagine a contemporary movie about gregory which would not introduce the necessary jungian, neo-gnostic darkside which we would assume for the pontiff. we just do not make movies with heroic early medaeval popes. we are so profoundly anti-nomian that the world "regulae"--rules--of pastoring is an immediate turn off.

yet gregory was only taking seriously what jesus had said. "no one can serve two masters," and he recognized thirteen centuries before dylan that "everybody has to serve someone."

we often, it seems, pretend that this is not true. few of us any more pray each day the "collect for peace" from gregory's sacramentory (no. 1345), describing god as the "author of peace and lover of concord, in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal life, whose service is perfect freedom." (the original latin is more vivid and terse: "whom to know is to live, whom to serve is to reign.:)

rather we prefer what we sometimes call, oxymoronically, "chaos theory." after all, it releaves us from any nagging feeling that we should pick up our bedroom. but, to continue with the words of gregory's collects, we are left not only at the merch of "our unruly wills," (no. 1120), but abandoned to the "fear of any adversaries."

so i wonder, as i lie fearlessly and snugly in my bed this cold lenten morning (lent may mean spring, but it's a mostly cold spring so far), whether i have any of gregory's many writings. i find i have only this one lenten hymn, no longer set to gregorian chant:

"O Kind Creator, bow thine ear
to mark the cry, to know the tear
before thy throne of mercy spent
in this thy holy fast of Lent.

Our hearts are open, Lord, to thee:
thou knowest our infirmity;
pour out on all who seek thy face
abundance of thy pardoning grace.

Our sins are many, this we know;
spare us, good Lord, thy mercy show;
and for the honor of thy name
our fainting souls to life reclaim.

Give us the self-control that springs
from discipline of outward things,
that fasting inward secretly
the soul may purely dwell with thee.

We pray thee, Holy Trinity,
one God, unchanging Unity,
that we from this our abstinence
may reap the fruits of penitence."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Words: attributed to Gregory the Great, sixth century;
trans. Thomas Alexander Lacey, 1906

9 march: the feast of st. gregory of nyssa

the first reading for the synaxis of st. gregory in the western rite:

wisdom 7:22-2822

for wisdom, which is the worker of all things, taught me: for in her is an understanding spirit holy, one only, manifold, subtil, lively, clear, undefiled, plain, not subject to hurt, loving the thing that is good quick, which cannot be letted, ready to do good, kind to man, steadfast, sure, free from care, having all power, overseeing all things, and going through all understanding, pure, and most subtil, spirits. for wisdom is more moving than any motion: she passeth and goeth through all things by reason of her pureness. for she is the breath of the power of god, and a pure influence flowing from the glory of the almighty: therefore can no defiled thing fall into her. for she is the brightness of the everlasting light, the unspotted mirror of the power of god, and the image of his goodness. and being but one, she can do all things: and remaining in herself, she maketh all things new: and in all ages entering into holy souls, she maketh them friends of god, and prophets. for god loveth none but him that dwelleth with wisdom.

9 march: song of two saints

awakened by moonlight, i boil water, dress, pulling my hood over my cap and my mantle over both, carrying my coffee through the crunch of last fall's needles to my vantage point on the edge of the void, beneath the tall pines. the not-quite-full moon on this not-quite-spring not-quite morning gives not quite enough light to see the not-quite-blooming forsythia to my right, but i imagine at least that i feel the yellow promises.

i sit here with the moon's brightness and the pines' darkness,trying to sing a songs of the saints of god. i want it to be a simple song, but the saints are thomas acquinas and gregory of nyssa, and i think it may be all day long before i can quite harmonize them, if at all.

thinking of them takes me back forty-four years to the fall i acknowledged myself a wise fool. that semester was plato's. yes. sign me up. i want to be a philosopher king. let me out of this cave. spring brought aristotle, whom i found to be a bit pedantic. the following year was to have been thomas acquinas, but the thomas-professor went off to yale, and i suppose found fame, while i went off to roosevelt and such second lights as ernst cassirer and teilhard de chardin and obscurantism. i never read st. thomas.

ah, but gregory of nyssa: his works, some of them anyway, i have read. sign me up. i want to see the world his way. cappadocia may be a land of caves, but gregory saw the light. his moses is no charlston heston, projected into the cave by phantoms, climbing a fake mountain with a fake beard as edgar robinson shows aaron how to make a molten calf. gregory's moses shines in the pure light of mount tabor.

somehow i was able to separate thomas whom i knew as the angelic poet of pange linguam and verbum supernum from the doctor of the summa. but i sat under the pine trees this morning after having read, well, not st. thomas on his feast yesterday, but chesterton's dumb ox biography of acqinas, and i was reminded both that, as plato had recognized, kings may pretend to be philosophers, but philosophers do not want to be kings, and that the methods of the enemy are subtle and pervasive even when simple: julius caesar has taught well; divide and conquer. i am easily carried along by the prejudices of my ignorant times even as i flatter myself that i work against them.

i find a friend who is opposed to private confession caught up in the lutheran heresy because her reason to reject that sacrament is that "roman catholics do it," but i never see past the log in my eye that keeps me from reading thomas because i have swallowed the more respectable heresy of hegelianism, never even tasting its bitterness amongst the sugars of modernism.

i was reminded of my dismissal of acquinas' thought as pedantic aristotelianism in a wonderful way this morning. pedantic is, after all, a sort of pun, combining the pedestrianism of walking with the pediatrics of childhood. the moon's brilliance was obscured by clouds as that lesser light approached the horizon. then, i could see more stars, stars which i wanted to place in constellations, but could not because of the pine trees. then, in the great darkness before the dawn, i began to hear the foot-fall, the pedantry, of a doe and her fawns browsing on the forest flood. i could even see ever so slightly the forms of the forsythia blossoms. the pines lost what chesterton might call, even if i do think wrongly, their byzantine flatness.

how easy it is not to see the pine trees for the stars.

2 march: the feast of st. chad

there is snow under the pine trees this morning, reminding me of the snowy morning by the pine tree at amelia white park in santa fe eighteen years ago when i took chad as my patron in my journey with christ. chad the barefoot walker who recognized that fear of the lord is the beginning of wisdom.

my faithfulness in that journey has been far from consistent. i have again and again excused myself for my faltering inconsistancy by the ease with which i can find fault with the church. there must, i tell myself, be a better way. i want the church to be one, to be holy, to be catholic, to be apostolic. when i fail to see her so, i like john the forerunner ask, should i look somewhere else.

one year i took a leave from my duties in the parish to "explore native american spirituality." i was living in santa fe at the time, where there actually is some survival of the old indigenous ways. i also returned to arkansas to try to find what had been the "beliefs" of the peoples indigenous to my natal soil before they had been driven out by my ancesters. i didn't find much, and yet i found enough.

the local religions were just that, local. they were many. they were natural, not holy, and entirely unconcerned about including others. despite what rich white women in navajo skirts and pawn silver said about the wonders of praying for "all my relations," all those relations were one's own family tree. the hopi might dance for the good of the whole world, but there was no place for a european in the dance, or a syrian, as the syrian church had made european bishops, and the european bishops had made navajo bishops. "native spirituality" was many, natural, local, and ethnic. i returned to the church, and found myself much to my surprise being made missionary bishop to the ozarks. (i had only enquired about how to make the order of st. chad canonically independent of new mexico.)

so, for a while, i was faithful again, returning to arkansas, even if it were to jonesboro rather than to fayetteville, trying to lead a life remarkably different enough from the world that people would ask me, what gives, when i could tell them of the faith "once delivered to the apostles."

my next crisis, once again, was with that collection, assortment really, of buildings ranging from repulsively hideous to sublimely beautiful, with signs out front saying "church." i had no interest in starting another one, but i felt that i should find them, if not on the same page as i, at least in the same book. then came the 2000 "election," in which many christians professed their faith in george w. bush as their lord and saviour, and even worse, almost non called that action heresy. there would follow the events that have come to be known as 9/11, and the cathedral church of sts. peter and paul, both of which were martyred by the empire, the more aptly named national cathedral, came to the service of those who said "let us bomb our enemies back into the stone age," a phrase for which i have looked without success in my strong's concordance. they rolled out creaky old billy graham, the kindest and gentlest of those who present the gospel as a "get out of hell free card." the apostate empire was singing "onward, christian soldiers," and from building after building signed "church" came the great amen.

i cried. in my tears i thought, there must be something better. as i was packing to return to new mexico, through my tears i read an old friend's name on the return address of a letter that arrived on the last day i was in jonesboro, a friend from the old parish in santa fe who then lived in seattle. come, he said. you'll like it here: ocean; mountains. this was my introduction to the none-zone.

the none-zone, western oregon and washington, is the area where most people, if asked their religious preference, say none. i bought a kayak and started exploring. people would ask, what do you do? i would say, i'm looking for clues. people pretended to understand. bellingham, home of western washington university, became my home port. there i met some brilliant young students of arts and sciences. if anyone had a clue, i thought, they might. they were brilliant but clueless, sacrificing four years of their lives in residence at an institution which taught that there were no real clues. many of them would sacrifice more years paying off student loans. i quickly realized that "the faith delivered to the apostles" is as good as it gets, is indeed as good as it needs to be. the problem is that we resist receiving it.

once again i resisted "starting a church," although i danced around the idea. i had a congregation of sorts: students who came to my tent in the night like nichodemus, students i catechized and baptized and buried, who were intrigued by jesus and a strange old man they thought might look like jesus--jesus if he and mary magadalen had really been married and had become grand parents. but mostly, they did not join me on sunday mornings at the church where i worshipped. (a few did, but the church was not very welcoming to them, nor did they understand why i would waste my time there.)

the worst moment came one easter morning, soon after the death of tim, a 29-year-old graduate of western washington. his was the first death, the first, funeral, many of these young people had known. in my pew sat nine kids who had known tim. they had been moved by the faith expressed during tim's death and wake and funeral, and they wanted to see where i worshipped. i was horrified. the "service" was one of those laurence-welk-show type of things so common with protestants these days: lots of special music that excluded the congregation. no silence. no room for the holy. and the most anti-resurrection sermon i had ever heard. and i was stuck. afterwards, i couldn't say, no this isn't church, this isn't easter. there was a big sign in front of this big building with stained glass windows claiming church. the brass band had played special easter music.

the next sunday i started worshipping at st. paul's episcopal church. it was two miles further from my house, and up a long hill, but at the easter vigil there had been a real proclamation of the resurrection, and the gathered people of god had been encouraged to do their work, to worship. so for the next several years in bellingham, without meaning to, i became a casual missionary for the episcopal church. as one young man, raised mostly methodist, who had asked, but where do you worship, dale, a young man, now exploring priesthood in the episcopal church, says, "in my church we worship the way christians have for 2,000 years. i pray that there might be more churches like st. paul's.

but now i am back in the ozarks, back to the place i was sent 14 years ago, on a morning with snow under the pines once again. the pine underneath which i took my first vows of obedience, poverty, stability, and chastity, has been cut down. in its place is an ugly statue. that's it in the picture above. one that statue is plaque that i can only paraphrase: be careful what you do here. simple acts can have great consequences. i came back to the ozarks on what i thought to be a retreat, to spend some time in silence, listening to the wind words. ah, that can be a dangerous thing to do.

on this second day of march, the feast of st. chad, bishop of mercia. i find myself once more hoist by my own petar. if find the wind words saying, inconveniently at this time when once again there is no king in israel, albeit the new israel, and every man does as he pleases, to return to the faith that has been given to us by the apsotles, to call us to receive it. alas, this morning's matins reading for a patron saint who is a bishop is from the tenth chapter of the gospel according to matthew: go to the lost sheep of the house of israel. so, i pray this morning, under the tall pines among which i know dwell, for the grace to be cunning as serpents and yet as harmless as doves. amen.

my lenten koan

lent very clearly means spring this morning. at 6:00 i am able to read the psalms with my first cup of coffee, seated under one of the tall pines at the edge of the holler.

if animals indeed have animae, souls, then the souls of the world en-fleshed in the creeping and flying creatures are waking from the sleep of winter well before the grass, herb yielding seed, or fruit trees, which are just beginning to swell with buds while the squirrels and frogs and birds are rampant in their lauds. even a vulture is aloft, circling in the light above the shadow of this round world, light which remains only a promise here in the pines.

my lenten koan for this year seems simpler than some years past: it is from the eighth chapter of luke,at the conclusion of the parable of the sower:

"having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with abundance."

i am very seldom good ground, with an honest and pure heart. but those times when i get all puffed up and feel pure, good, and honest, i tend to lose all patience--proof i was merely pridefull.

yet am i hopeful. the holy one will not fail to hear my cry, "lord, i am thine, o save me."

only three weeks ago, these pines, this holler, was as quiet and frozen as narnia in the grasp of the white witch, each branch, each needle, each blade imprisoned in ice. no creepers crept, no winged creatures flew. we, my neighbors and i, huddled in the cold darkness.

but just a little while, and i sit in this warm bright morning as the song of the turtle is heard in the land.

"having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with abundance."

quadragesima: a reply to the serpent

great lent is observed somwhat differently in the eastern and western churches. there are, i think, some peculiar advantages to each method of preparation for pascha, for easter.

the east has no mardi gras, no great "party" to end "carnival," no headaches on ash wednesday. instead, orthodoxy gradually takes up the lenten fast, first with meat-fare sunday, the last flesh-eating day before great lent, then with cheese-fare sunday, when dairy products are last eaten before pascha.

on cheese-fare sunday is commemorated the expulsion of adam of the first creation from the paradise of bliss. first vespers remembers our creation from "dust from the earth," and recognizes that satan "deceived me through eating."

we pray, "lord, when i disobeyed thy command at the counsel of the adversary, i wretched one, was stripped of my god-woven robe." these are words looking forward of course to the new robe of the second creation, the chrysom that we are given in our baptism into that new creation, and to the gift of the holy spirit, the true counselor, that we will celebrate at the end of the great fifty days of the pascha.

in the liturgy we are told in the epistle, from romans, "let not him that eateth despite him that eateth not; and let him which eateth not judge him that eateth . . ." in the orthodox church, there is not so much of "what will i give up for lent." the fast is proscribed, so there is less opportunity for pride in giving up some favourite thing. easter therefore is less often reduced to getting chocolate back.

the gospel includes the same passage as the catholic west reads on ash wednesday:

". . . when ye fast, be not,as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance: for they disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto men to fast. . . . but though, when thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face."

in the second vespers comes this prayer, which is repeated every sunday evening during lent:

"let us all hasten to the subjugation of the flesh by abstinence, as we approach the divine battle-field of blameless fasting. let us pray the lord, our saviour, in tears and prayers, turning away completely from sin, and crying, we have sinned against thee, o christ the king. save us, therefore, as of old thou didst save the people of ninevah; and make us partakers of thy heavenly kingdom, o compassionate one."

and because we know our own weaknesses, we ask also the interecessions of all the saints, especially of the most blessed theotokos.

monday morning the forty days begin.

in the west, which counts the forty days somewhat differently, it is on wednesday, ash wednesday, that the prophet jonah is read at matins, telling of the fasting and the repentance of ninevah. the collect asks for that second creation which comes with the second adam:

"almighty and everlasting god, who hatest nothing that thou hast made, and dost forgive the sins of all those who are penitent; create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of thee, the god of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through jesus christ our lord. amen.

then, after hearing matthew in the liturgy, those of us who have been beguiled by the words of the serpent, "ye shall not surely die," hear instead these words:

"remember, o man, that thou art dust, and unto dust shall thou return."

quadragesima sunday (new calendar)

i have friends for whom i admit an occasional jealousy. they, although in most ways practicing christians,are able to speak of the church in the third person, to distance themselves from her, to accuse her of shortcomings they do not share. sometimes this condemnation is of "the organized church," or "the visible church," as if christ desires a disheveled, invisible bride. such an understanding of the church seems not only completely at variance with the new testament, but also unable to carry out the mission which christ jesus has given her. to take a single example, if we are to be in the world but not of the world, how can we witness to the world if we can not be seen?

i am unable to think this way. my identity, my existence, is in the body of christ, the church. i was baptised in the church, confirmed in the church, ordained in the church. by the grace of god i hope toe ventually join my voice with that "great voice of much people in heaven, saying, alleluia; salvation, and glory, and honour, and power, unto the lord our god.

but already i pray in and as the church. each day i confess my sins, not only in the words of psalm 51 (et), "have mercy on me, o god . . . gor i acknowledge my faults and my sin is ever before me," but also in the words of "a general confession" from the book of common prayer: "we have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. we have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts . . . ."

my sin afflicts the whole church, and the sins of the whole church are mine. indeed the sin of the whole world is mine, is ours, for as christ's body we continue to take on the sin of the world, thus, as paul wrote to the church in colossae, "in my own body to do what i can to make up all that is still to be undergone by christ for the sake of his body, the church." (1:24)

alas, surely there is no affliction of the church more painful than her present state, "by scisms rent asunder, by heresies distrest." (s. j. stone) this seems to be a huge sin, which i find myself confessing each lent, sadly ignored again and again by those of us who never consider what we see as the current voice of the spirit, so conveniently in concord with the spirit of the times, might be prelest.

i have been encouraged these past few weeks before great lent by three books written by members of christ's body who have experienced great suffering, but who have also found themselves therein participants in christ's glory. the books are not of this world: the life and teachings of father seraphim rose, by monk damascene christenson; fragments of my life, by catherine de hueck doherty, and the candlelight kingdom, by ruth korper. they are all three infused with the suffering of russian christians, a circumstance conveniently overlooked by my "liberal education" of the 1960's and '70's, events i would be surprised to find known by many american christians even today. but they do describe the church, organized, visible, and very much alive under the most difficult of conditions.

last week in the daily office were the stories of peter's confession and of the lord's transfiguration. (in churches using the new common lectionary, this sunday was heard the story of the transfiguration also.) in both of these stories the climax is "that the son of man must suffer many things."

may we who confess and call ourselves christians often find ourselves during great lent using this prayer composed by william reed huntington, who with his 1870 book the church idea was on of the pioneers of the recent search for church unity:

"almighty god, whose most dear son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified; mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through the same thy son jesus christ our lord. amen."

new blog

on a cold march morning in 1992 i earnestly presented a rule and made vows to bishop richard gundrey for something to be called the order of st. chad. i had chosen chad as our patron (at that time, my patron) because he lived in times just as confusing and transitional as ours, and had managed to remain faithful to his lord and the traditions in which he had been trained (by st. aidan, no less) and to remain humble even when he was made bishop.

at one time there were six of us in this little order, trying to follow a rule of life as we lived in the busyness of the modern, urban world. we dwindled, more or less, over the years. one who still follows the rule is now the directress of an orphanage. two became benedictines, and left the busyness of the modern, urban world. one decided to return to the native american traditions of his adopted father. one i have lost track of. and then here am i, in a small town in the ozarks, but certainly in the buzyness of the world.

in the early days of the order, we had a quarterly newsletter. now it is much easier, and i hope not too much against the spirit of st. chad, to do something similar on-line.

the icon that heads the first post of the the new blog is of st. john the wonderworker (of shanghai and san francisco). it is he who has encouraged me to start up again taking seriously the need for what st. chad and the other orthodox celtic saints have to offer us. i have followed the rule, at times less faithfully than others, for eighteen years now, and i have no regrets.

so here i will post lives of celtic saints, suggestions for a rule of life, and stories of my wanderings trying to follow my patron.

septuagesima sunday: out of the wilderness into the arena

septuagesima may not be a term familiar to you, but it is a term which has come back to me this year as a special gift. i had been wanting to revisit ezekiel, so since ephiphany i have been following the 1943 american episcopal lectionary, which provides readings from ezekiel for the first four weeks after that feast.

that lectionary also includes septuagesima sunday, which the newer, post-vatican ii lectionaries have abandoned. in 568, the lombards began to threaten italy, and john iii, bishop of rome, appointed three pre-lenten sundays for supplication against the impending peril. the first, which was celebrated at the church of st. laurence outside the walls, was (only approximately) 70 days before easter, hence the term septuagesima.

we of course begin the post-epiphany season reading about jesus' baptism in the jordan by john the forerunner, and "immediately the spirit driveth him into the wilderness." (mark 1:12) for the past three years i have been in the wilderness, driven by the spirit to seek answers to questions that keep me awake long into the night.

the first reading for matins of septuagesima is the beginning of the book of joshua. joshua (jesus in greek) leads israel through the jordan so they can begin the struggle for the promised land. i am grateful that although i fall short of our lord, who came to understand his mission in forty days, that by his grace it has not taken me longer than forty years.

the gospel for septuagesima is jesus' story of how "the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which went out early in the morning to hire laborers into his vineyard." he hired other laborers also throughout the day. "and when they came that were hired about the eleventh hours, they received every man a penny."

thanks be to god for this good news. there is still a bit of time for me to work. the good man of the house says, "i will give unto this last . . . ." (matthew 20:1ff)i can still pray with psalm 39 "lord, let me know mine end, and the number of my days."

but there is more in this day's wonderful propers: psalm 40, with its claim, "i waited patiently for the lord, and he inclined unto me, and heard my calling"--not that i have always been so patient as i should be. but in some ways the best is the encouragement from the blessed apostle: ". . . run, that ye may obtain. and every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things. now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible.

"i therefore so run, not so uncertainly . . . " (i corinthians 9:24ff).