Sunday, March 29, 2020

Dry Bones: Notes for the Fifth Sunday in Lent

Breathe on me, Breath of God... 


Notice that in Ezekiel's prophetic vision the resurrection of the bones takes two steps, v. 8 ("but there was no breath in them" and v. 10 ("the breath came into them, and they lived", as does Jesus' healing of the blind man who at first saw people only "like trees walking" but after Jesus laid his hands on his eyes the second time "saw everything clearly" (Mark 8, verses 24 and 25). This is taken, sometimes, as laying down a requirement for a two-fold action, of baptism and confirmation, or baptism in water and baptism in the Spirit. But - commenting on this passage in the notes for the New Oxford Annotated Bible, ed. 3, Stephen L. Cook writes: v. 3 “... this vision refers to the reestablishment of the exiles in their homeland.” And, of v. 4-8, that “as in Gen 2.7, life is generated here in two stages.” The meanings of this prophetic vision are dynamic and fluid. In the verses that follow there is a continuing play on the Hebrew term “ruah” with its multiple meanings of breath, wind, and spirit. In Genesis, the Lord forms the dust of the ground into a human being in one action, and in another breathes the breath of life into his new creation. The bones gather together, bone to bone, in a great rattle, but it is only when the spirit is breathed into them that they come to life. And at last we come to v. 14 of Ezekiel, “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.” It is the action of God throughout that brings life - not animated dust or rattling skeletons but truly living people who rejoice in life and in God’s faithfulness in Word and action. The promise is one that we also find in a name:


The Church of the Holy Sepulchre has another name: it is also the Church of the Resurrection. The place in which the body of Jesus was laid is also the place from which he arose. And as we seek new life in times when mortality seems so close, we also may recall God’s promise. The one who made us is the one who redeems us is the one who fills us with the Spirit - and brings us fully to life.

Friday, March 27, 2020

sociable solitaries


"They are sociable solitaries..." 

Just now I was reading the Economist magazine's lifestyle quarterly 1843 and discovered a brief but pungent article on the place I go for my annual retreat, the Immaculate Heart Hermitage at Big Sur, known as New Camaldoli. It is the westernmost outpost of the Camaldolese Hermits, a contemplative Benedictine order. After a visit, observing how their mostly solitary days of work and prayer are punctuated by common prayer at lauds, matins, mass, and vespers, the author describes these monks as "sociable solitaries." Fairly accurate about some things, service times, for example, the article does not give as distorted or sensational an account of contemplative life as we might some times find. Vogue once covered an extended retreat I was on, and I've wondered if they did as well. 

What we find in the "postcard from Silicon Valley" is enough to cause us to want to inquire more deeply into a life of balance, of community and solitude, witness and prayer. 


Nat Segnit, "Postcard from Silicon Valley, Some of our critics call us the hot-tub monks", 1843, April/May 2020, 31-32.
https://www.1843magazine.com/upfront/postcard-from-silicon-valley/some-of-our-critics-call-us-the-hottub-monks accessed March 27, 2020.

And here is where I get down to it a bit more: 

Camaldolese Benedictine Hermits have over a thousand years of practice with 'social distancing' - and more important with balance. The Camaldolese Threefold Good of community, solitude, and witness, will play out differently for people outside monastic enclosures. We connect with friends and neighbors at a distance, sometimes through electronic means, telephone, or letter, and sometimes en paseo, that is, as we pass each other on our evening walks. Witness takes so many forms. Care for each other, however expressed, is one of them. And of course Camaldolese Benedictines are much more concerned with solitude than isolation. Perhaps we can learn, through newly adopted very old practices, such as sacred reading, contemplation, and prayer, how to turn simple isolation into something more profound.

My thought is that we can - with help - turn from forced isolation to chosen solitude. At least to some extent. As we would in Lent - or Ramadan, or other fasting periods. This happened to me this year: my doctor had me begin a low-carbohydrate Mediterranean style diet last summer, which I got serious about around Labor Day. So I made it into a Lenten practice. But this was not elected solitude. 

What I am doing now, in this time of pandemic isolation, are the intentional practices of solitude of Camaldolese Benedictine Oblates: daily prayer, weekly Eucharist and annual retreat. God willing I'll be able to go to New Camaldoli this summer for the retreat... 

In my home we have a community of two and say daily prayers together. As for weekly Eucharist, I commend "Spiritual Communion" and the prayer of St Alphonse of Liguori:

O Lord, in union with the faithful at every altar of your Church where your blessed Body and Blood are being offered to the Father, I desire to offer you praise and thanksgiving. I believe that you are truly present in the Holy Sacrament. And since I cannot now receive you sacramentally, I pray you to come spiritually into my heart. I unite myself to you, and embrace you with all the affections of my soul. Let me never be separated from you. Let me live and die in your love. Amen.

A contemplative nun from Summit, New Jersey, offered her own thoughts on how we can turn to resources of chosen solitude at a time of forced isolation. "First, you need to establish structure.... Second, be intentional and love others.... Third, use this time for self-reflection and relaxation.... Stop. Be still. You can either waste this period of social-distancing and be frustrated, or you can choose to make it the best it can be."  (Sister Mary Catharine Perry)

https://www.nj.com/opinion/2020/03/im-a-nun-and-ive-been-social-distancing-for-29-years-here-are-tips-for-staying-home-amid-coronavirus-fears.html

Friday, March 20, 2020

Never since the world began

"For ye were sometimes darkness..."
The Man Born Blind - Duccio 1308-11
http://edgeofenclosure.org/lent4a.html




There is a pretty bad movie, starring Robert Downey Jr and Meg Ryan, called "Restoration", that despite its awful contrivances still intrigues me. Not because of its picturesque frivolities but because of its actually serious topic. "Restoration" is set during the period of the restoration of the English monarchy after the Interregnum under Parliament and Oliver Cromwell the Protector. (The time is the 1660s of our era.)

So there is a reaction against the constraints of a Puritan dictatorship not only in politics but in morals. (For a more balanced and thorough personal account of these changes, read the diaries of Samuel Pepys - or listen, as I did, to Kenneth Brannagh reading portions.)

The hero, if we can call him that, of the film, is the King's new Physician, a fool, as we meet him, who quickly gets himself into trouble as he trivializes himself and the already frivolous life of court.

But then plague strikes. And all becomes more serious than he can handle......

And in some sense he finds redemption - a restoration to himself, if you will - as he begins to serve people who need him: a physician after all.

He finds his calling in horrendous times.

No one wants them.

Cue Gandalf talking to Frodo: 
Frodo: ... I wish none of this had happened. 
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.

Did God ever choose such times? Well, yes, in a sense. Look at the times into which he sent his Son.

If ever the world needed a Shepherd, a light-bearer, it was then (and always now). Imperial occupation, corrupt quislings leading the people, abject poverty, ongoing contagion, - it was time.

Perhaps it is always time. Time for a Shepherd. Time to bear light into the world.

And so the light comes into the world. It does not only come once, but for all. All people, all times.


So often when we visit somebody in hospital, there are some old words that hold comfort and meaning. The 23rd Psalm, and the Lord's Prayer. This is not hiding. This is facing the light.

Here they are as they appear in the "new" Prayer Book of 1662, the time of the Restoration.

PSAL. 23. Dominus regit me. The Lord is my ſhepherd: therefore can I lack nothing. 2 He ſhall feed me in a green paſture: and lead me forth beſide the waters of comfort. 3 He ſhall convert my ſoul: and bring me forth in the paths of righteouſneſs, for his Name’s ſake. 4 Yea, thou I walk through the valley of the ſhadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy ſtaff comfort me. 5 Thou ſhalt prepare a table before me againſt them that trouble me: thou haſt anointed my head with oil, and my cup ſhall be full. 6 But thy loving-kindneſs and mercy ſhall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the houſe of the Lord for ever.


Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven: Give us this day our daily bread; And forgive us our treſpaſſes, as we forgive them that treſpaſs againſt us; And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil. Amen. 

We too might long for a 'restoration' of times before. What we face instead are new times. What we carry forward from the past is - not nostalgia - but resources that last: Word, sacrament, prayer, fellowship; with these to sustain us, we carry forward the light that is always with us.


What we carry forward is also vision - a vision, a longing, for how things can be - and indeed what the blind man saw, and what disturbed the universe, was something new: not since the world began had a man born blind received his sight. This is not restoration; this is new.


Light has entered the world, as it has since the first dawning, as it did this morning. And as it always does it is old and it is new. We have not chosen our times; we choose how to live them.






Saturday, March 14, 2020

the water that connects us

This is a sermon in Lent, so the theme of the lessons, and especially the gospel, is Baptism. First of all. But there is something deeper than baptism, deeper than sacrament, even: what sacraments represent. 

As wise commentators have observed, behind the symbol is the reality. Behind water, Spirit. And in the story of the woman at the well, we see God’s grace at work and the providence we rely on.

Jacob needed water. People do. And so do their flocks, if they have them. Jacob received the gift of sustenance for his needs. What remained and continued was the symbol and the reality that co-intwine to show us God at work. 

People need water - and God provides it. And if we co-operate with God, as Jacob did, as Moses did, as the woman at the well did, we may find a deeper thirst supplied. Not just today, for ever.

The people of Israel were complaining in the desert. Did you bring us out here to die of thirst? God did not simply open the heavens. Take your staff, Moses; the staff with which you struck the Nile, and strike the rock at Horeb. I will be there before you. 

The staff with which he struck the rock is the staff that Moses used so many times as it, and he, became the instruments of God. Through creation, and through the actions of this faithful man, the people received what they need - for all their anxiety, all their worry.

When we confront a lack, a profound need, we as people of God know that we are not alone. In the midst of suffering, we are not alone. God is with us. We may not pass through the trial unhurt but we will pass through it together, with God and each other.

And that is where we find grace. The story, the bread, the wine, the water, the oil, and each other these we have with us always. And behind any symbol, any gift, any lack, even, are the Word that becomes flesh and dwells among us and the Spirit that sustains us - and we will be all right.

How does this show up in John’s Gospel? In the person of Jesus, the ultimate self-revelation of the Father. “Throughout John’s Gospel, the key to salvation - and so the door to eternal life - is recognizing who Jesus is and responding with loving obedience.”

To put my theme simply, Jesus is real - and he can change your life.

It sure happened to the Samaritan woman. Slowly, and then all at once, she became rich in the grace of heaven. 

At first she just thought she met a guy at a well, at the unlikely hour of noon. Then she began to interrogate him, to come closer, and to find out who he really is. It took her a while, as it does most of us.

Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet. 

But more than that, greater than that, she could not tell, until she brought the whole town alive with the news: “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done!” 

A brave disclosure: they know who she is, without prophetic help. But she says it, freely, and more: she has begun to wonder if he is not really in fact “greater than our ancestor Jacob” - the one who found the water in the well the first time. “Can this be he? The Restorer - the anointed one - that we have been waiting for all these years?” 

Other stranger voices will call out, “I know you son of God! When will you restore Israel?”

But the people gather here at the well, at the source, as it turns out, at the source of life itself: they gather in the presence of Jesus. 

And they learn he is more than that, more than a man at a well, more than a prophet, greater than their ancestor, greater than their preconceptions of the one anointed to restore their people only: “this is truly the Savior of the world.”

Now I want some of that water. I want some of that Spirit. I want some of that Presence.

And he is present. Jesus is real and he can change your life.

You may or may not have a bucket, or a well, or cupped hands, or in fact any visible water at all. What you have is the living Word of God. 

Behind symbol is reality. Yes there is a well, still, and water. Yes, there is bread - and there is wine. There is oil for anointing and there are prayers for healing. We are present together - or in a phone call, or even a text. But behind all these vehicles of grace, these visible tangible audible symbols, is a spiritual reality. Not a passive, recumbent essence, but an active power, of God.

The power is not in the staff but in the word of God, not in the symbol, however wonderful, but in the spiritual reality.

And when we remember that we are home.

Whether we are together or for a time separated, by distance or contagion, we are home, in the presence and power of God.

Here is something I learned from my college advisor, Donald Nicholl. After he served as a teacher in various universities including mine he went on to direct the Ecumenical Institute at Tantur by Jerusalem. His job was to host scholars from various traditions, and to see that they got along together. 

Building community, for Christians, means gathering for prayer, for word and sacrament. But what if you cannot take the sacrament together? The problem he faced, in his time, was that Catholics were supposed to take communion with Catholics, only, and not with Protestants. The Protestants had similar difficulties. It was not something to brush aside or “power through”.

So he thought, at first, well, I won’t take communion when others can’t. So he didn’t go up to the altar when Protestants celebrated. And he didn’t go up when Catholics celebrated. 

And then he realized, I’m not going up at all! And I’m the leader of this community. This won’t work. So he decided, and in those analog days tacked up a notice on the community bulletin board, announcing his decision - and our insight: 

When you take communion you take it not for yourself only: you take it for everyone, especially those who cannot go up to the altar rail with you, as part of a community, …

… and as we know, that community is worldwide, and robust, sustained through place and time,  carrying forward the work of the Spirit and rejoicing in the power of God.



Suzanne Guthrie. At the Edge of the Enclosure. http://www.edgeofenclosure.org/lent3a.html 
Donald Nicholl. The Testing of Hearts. London, 1989. 
The Rt. Rev. Gregory H. Rickel, Bishop of Olympia. A Pastoral Letter: “Co-operating” in the Wilderness. http://bishoprickel.com/ (Saturday 14 March 2020).
Scott Gambrill Sinclair, The Past from God's Perspective: A Commentary on John's Gospel, North Richland Hills, TX: BIBAL Press, 2004, page 69.

For Saint Matthew's Episcopal Church, Tucson, Arizona.  https://stmatthew.azdiocese.org/
https://www.facebook.com/saintmatthewtucson/videos/193997745378421/

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

common bread


When he was Rector of the Ecumenical Institute at Tantur near Jerusalem, my college advisor Donald Nicholl had to work through what it meant to take communion when others could not. (cf. The Testing of Hearts, London, 1989). In his case the Protestants and Roman Catholics were supposed not to take communion together. 

As Rector his first response was not to take communion when others could not; then he realized he was never taking communion at all! --Not so good for the head of a community. So he decided that when he went up for communion he went not only for himself but for everyone who could not as well.

Might be a practice to adopt in other circumstances too.