Bearing Witness

The following is the text of a sermon George Hunsinger preached in 2006.

The question that Dietrich Bonhoeffer asked himself, his students, and his readers remains as urgent now as when he first raised it: Who is Jesus Christ for us today? Bonhoeffer by no means intended to challenge the authoritative biblical answer. What he confessed with the prophets and the apostles, he attested at the cost of his life. He affirmed that Jesus Christ is the Risen Lord who had become incarnate for our sakes in order to die for our sins and liberate us from the power of death. That was the answer presupposed in every other possible answer to his question. It was the one answer that contained all others within itself.

But Bonhoeffer knew that other answers were indeed included within that one answer. He knew that in dying for our sins, Jesus Christ had made the sufferings of the world his own. He knew that discipleship to Christ meant participating in Christ’s sufferings in the present time. “The hungry need bread,” he once wrote, “and the homeless need a roof; the oppressed need justice and the lonely need fellowship; the undisciplined need order and the slave needs freedom.” Because Jesus had entered into our world of sorrows, and because he had taken up the cause of those in need, making their cause to be his own, Bonhoeffer could continue: “To allow the hungry to remain hungry would be blasphemy against God and one’s neighbor, for what is nearest to God is precisely the need of one’s neighbor” (Ethics, p. 137).

Read more . . . .

Get Radical: Root Yourself in Christ

I've just started reading Ched Myer's Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark's Story of Jesus, certainly one of the best commentaries I've read on the Mark's powerful witness to Jesus. Myers describes his reading of Mark as radical, that is, deeply "rooted" in Jesus' Palestinean toil and soil (radical comes from the Latin radix, root). Daniel B. Clendenin must have been reading a good dose of Myers because his essay on next Sunday's radical Good News is "right-on" Myers. While I don't want to plagiarize Clendenin by copying his entire posting, I want you to start here and then make your way to Journey with Jesus.

Palm Sunday or Passion Sunday: "He's No Friend of Caesar!"

Sixth Sunday in Lent 2009
For April 5, 2009

Lectionary Readings (Revised Common Lectionary, Year B)

Psalm 118:1–2, 19–29, Mark 11:1–11 .John 12:12–16

For three years Jesus criss-crossed the villages of Galilee teaching in synagogues, preaching the good news of God’s kingdom, and healing the sick. Thousands of people trampled each other just to get a look at him (Luke 12:1). Some people responded positively, for reasons that were both good and bad. Many others responded with rejection, resistance, and unbelief. To say that at the end of those three years he was a controversial figure would be a gross understatement.

Toward the end of those three years Jesus “resolutely set his face toward Jerusalem.” When he entered that city for the last time, knowing full well that betrayal, persecution and death awaited him, it’s easy to imagine that he was greeted by his largest and most boisterous crowd. His so-called “triumphal entry” on what we call Palm Sunday triggered the beginning of the end for Jesus.

What began on Sunday with a religious procession ended Friday morning with a public display of state terror. Excited children waving palm branches were quickly forgotten when violent mobs shouted death chants. The adulation of the crowds evaporated into abandonment by his closest friends.

By Good Friday, Jesus's disciples argued among themselves about who was the greatest, Judas betrayed him, Peter denied knowing him, all his disciples fled (except for the women), and Rome employed all the brutal means at its disposal to crush an insurgent movement — rendition, interrogation, torture, mockery, humiliation, and then a sadistic execution designed as a "calculated social deterrent" (Borg) to any other trouble makers who might challenge imperial authority.

Jesus's "triumphal entry" into the clogged streets of Jerusalem on Good Friday was a deeply ironic, highly symbolic, and deliberately provocative act. It was an enacted parable or street theater that dramatized his subversive mission and message. He didn't ride a donkey because he was too tired to walk or because he wanted a good view of the crowds. The Oxford scholar George Caird characterized Jesus's triumphal entry as more of a "planned political demonstration" than the religious celebration that we sentimentalize today.

Read more now . . . .

Image: Jesus before Pilate, Seymour E. Bottex, Haiti.

March 31: John Donne

Tomorrow we remember John Donne. An especially good "Lenten" poet, Donne is one of my favorites. As we prepare for Palm Sunday and Holy Week, perhaps this sonnet provides an opportunity for reflection:




Holy Sonnet X: Death, Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must low
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Icon of John Donne

The chief thing that separates us from God is the thought that we are separated from God.

Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart

Image from Humanity Matters: Toward an Incarnational Spirituality by Rich Vincent

Prayer and Action on Matters of Justice

Last Monday evening June and I attend a meeting of Building a United Interfaith Lexington through Direct Action (BUILD) at Immanuel Baptist Church in Lexington. Quite an event! For a full report, see "Putting heat on the city for affordable housing." Inasmuch as the co-chair of BUILD is Pastor Ron Luckey of Faith Lutheran Church, we were with him in prayer as we saw him work prophetically, confronting the Mayor Jim Newberry of Lexington on behalf of the poor. The mayor was told in no uncertain terms that even in these economically hard times (when we can provide millions for the 2010 World Equestrian Games!), it is a miscarriage of justice when "18 percent of Lexington's 48, 357 renter households spend more than half their gross household income on rent." When asked if he would find funding for the creation of affordable housing, the Mayor flatly said "No." That NO was greeted by an absolute silence as we Christians registered our dismay at the Mayor's lack of imaginative commitment. In response Pastor Luckey expressed his disapproval and enormous disappointment. "We expect a great deal more from our elected officials than what you have given us tonight," Pastor said. Undeterred, BUILD will continue to bear witness to the powers until justice for the poor is achieved. Newberry will hear from BUILD again!

This is exactly the kind of direct action that churches throughout our nation need to be doing in witness to their Lord who, as we heard two Sundays ago in John's Gospel, upturned the tables, not only to disrupt the commercialism of the temple but at the same time overturn the tables of the corrupting and powerful political machine at Jerusalem.

The one-hour BUILD program, attended by nearly 1300 Christians representing 21 churches, was well organized, powerful in its witness, and an encouragement to all who pray for and witness to the power of God. Within the Body of Christ and through the Church, God continues to love and help the poor and set the prisoners--in this case, prisoners of high rents!--free. Be sure to remember the poor, those who are oppressed economically, and all who support BUILD in your prayers.

March 25, The Annunication: Pregnant with the Messiah

Today is the Feast of the Annunciation in the Church's calendar. We celebrate the day when the Blessed Virgin Mary said Yes to God exactly nine months before Christmas, the Nativity of Jesus.

In every Evening Prayer we sing or say the Magnificat, the Song of Mary, as Luke preserves it in his Gospel. When we pray the Magnificat, we not only remember that Mary is the Theotokos, the Mother of God, but we also realize that each one of us is pregnant with the Son of God, who lives inside of each individual, in our hearts. Because Christ is in you and me, we want to see life with his eyes, listen to life with his ears, walk the sidewalks with his feet, and handle all of life with his hands. Seeing everyone and everything with the mind and heart of Christ allows us to grow into the fulness of his stature.

Tonight June and I will sing a special hymn, "For All the Faithful Women," 419 in Evangelical Lutheran Worship. It's sung to a lovely Finnish folk tune. Here's the first verse:

For all the faithful women
Who served in days of old,
To You shall thanks be given;
To all, their story told.
They served with strength and gladness
In tasks Your wisdom gave,
To You their lives bore witness,
Proclaimed Your power to save.

In each subsequent stanza we give thanks, one by one, sometimes two by two, to God for numerous faithful women whose life stories are told in the Bible. Miriam; Hannah; Ruth; Mary, the Mother of Our Lord; Martha and Mary; The Woman at the Well, Mary Magdalene, Dorcas, and Eunice and Lois.

Stanza 6, in which we give thanks for Mary, the Mother of Our Lord, sings this way:

We honor faithful Mary,

fair maiden, full of grace.

She bore the Christ, our brother,

who saved our human race.

May we, with her, surrender

ourselves to your command

and lay upon your altar

our gifts of heart and hand.

May all of you, with Mary, proclaim the greatness of the Lord today!

Published after Thomas Merton's death, The Inner Experience: Notes on Contemplation, ed. William H. Shannon (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2003) is one of his most exciting and exacting set of reflections on contemplative living. Here is a typical passage:

The life of contemplation in action and purity of heart is, then, a life of great simplicity and inner liberty. One is not seeking anything special or demanding any particular satisfaction. One is content with what is. One does what is to be done, and the more concrete it is, the better. One is not worried about the results of what is done. One is content to have good motives and not be too anxious about making mistakes. In this way one can swim with the living stream of life and remain at every moment in contact with God, in the hiddenness and ordinariness of the present moment with its obvious task. (66)

It was with Merton's spirit that this afternoon I replaced the battery of the lawnmower, fixed one of its flat tires, and mowed a good bit of the yard. And I'm asking God that with Merton's kind of spirit I will go to Immanuel Baptist Church tonight to participate in a "Building a United Interfaith Lexington through Direct-Action" (BUILD) meeting, a city-wide ecumenical gathering anticipating over 1500 people gathered to meet with the mayor to require affordable housing for the city's poor.

By the way, the deacon at the Eucharist yesterday, after the pastor's final blessing, said: "Let us go in peace" and then added "and serve the poor." Great reminder! With a hearty response, the parishioners all cried out, "Thanks be to God!" Very Merton-ish!

Give me the strength that waits upon You in silence and peace. Give me humility in which alone is rest, and deliver me from pride which is the heaviest of burdens. And possess my whole heart and soul with the simplicity of love. Occupy my whole life with the one thought and the one desire of love, that I may love not for the sake of merit, not for the sake of perfection, not for the sake of virtue, not for the sake of sanctity, but for You alone.

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

When what you thought was faith was an illusion

In New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions Press, 1961), Thomas Merton warns us about confusing faith with feeling good about God and ourselves:

How many people are there in the world of today who have "lost their faith" along with the vain hopes and illusions of their childhood? What they called "faith" was just one among all the other illusions. They placed all their hope in a certain sense of spiritual peace, of comfort, of interior equilibrium, of self-respect. Then when they began to struggle with the real difficulties and burdens of mature life, when they became aware of their own weakness, they lost their peace, they let go of their precious self-respect, and it became impossible for them to "believe." That is to say it became impossible for them to comfort themselves, to reassure themselves, with the images and concepts they found reassuring in childhood.

Place no hope in the feeling of assurance, of spiritual comfort. You may well have to get along without this. Place no hope in the inspirational preachers of Christian sunshine, who are able to pick you up and set you back on your feet and make you feel good for three or four days-until you fold up and collapse into despair.

Over and over, again and again

The Church’s traditional Morning and Evening Prayers have two parts: those parts that we say over and over each morning and evening and those parts that change day by day—readings from the Bible. For example, this morning as we began our prayers, June and I said Psalm 95 (as always) and later prayed the Song of Zechariah, Luke 1.68-79 (as always). Inbetween those two “repeatables,” we will sing Psalms 95, 96, and 97 and then read to one another selected passages from Jeremiah and Paul’s Letter to the Romans as we work our way through God’s Word, day by day. So our prayers have two parts: the "same old, same old" and the new every day. (There is also a third part: our intercessions, praises, and thanksgivings, many of which are spontaneous in nature.)

You might ask, “Why do we say some things the same way every single day?” That’s a good question. Perhaps something of an answer can be found in a story Anne Lamont retells in her disarming Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith:

There’s a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked: “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your hearts, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside. (73)

The rabbi is right. Reading sacred texts until you know them by heart really does allow the holy words to fall inside us when we really need them. I have found this falling happens in two ways. First, there are times when I want to pray Morning Prayer, but for whatever reason I may not have my prayerbook with me. Nevertheless, because I have sung Psalm 95 and the Song of Zechariah over and over again, I have them memorized and can sing them whenever I need them, sometimes when taking a morning walk, sometimes when driving, sometimes when standing in line at a grocery store. Even without my prayerbook, I can pray in the morning. But second, and equally important, when life crashes down on me (as it often has and does), God's morning songs and canticles, lying as on my heart, frequently and miraculously fall into my heart when I desperately need them. In other words, at times in my dark places, the morning Songs sing themselves to me. People have often said that this sort of singing also happens to those who say the Jesus Prayer over and over. God has fortified me with his word when I need for him to talk to me.

Billy Graham in his old age said that he wished that he had memorized more of Scripture so that he could lean upon God’s holy words in his later years. Saying the same words in Morning and Evening Prayer, over and over, again and again, is a big step in that direction.

So don’t be afraid of saying God’s word, the same holy word over and over. When you need His words, they will tumble down into your heart.

Image Source: Russian icon of Zechariah, holding a scroll containing the opening words of the Benedictus (18th century, Kizhi Monastery, Russia).

An Irish Friendship Wish

This morning my daughter Amy sent me this wish, and I'd like to pass it on to you!

May there always be work for your hands to do;

May your purse always hold a coin or two;

May the sun always shine on your windowpane;

May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;

May the hand of a friend always be near you;

May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

When we were at the monatery several weeks ago, we noticed that in the mountains of eastern Kentucky, at the end of February, the daffodils were already blooming. When I return to Richmond, however, it took at least ten more days for the daffodils in my garden to nose their way out of the ground, spring up and then wave their yellow blossoms as a grand "hello" to the sun. So it was yesterday, working in the garden, that I stooped low to take this picture and share with you these harbingers of spring (along with the pussy willows). And, of course, while looking that them, I couldn't but remember Wordsworth's lovely poem.

"Daffodils" (1804)

William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

March 17: St. Patrick's Day

When we were in Ireland last year, six of us were able to visit The National Cathedral and Collegiate Church of Saint Patrick in Dublin and Saint Patrick's Church of Ireland Cathedral in Armagh, both dedicated to the memory of St. Patrick, whose festival day we celebrate tomorrow. As Daniel B. Clendenin reminds us, "recovering reliable historical information about many of the saints is difficult if not impossible, and Saint Patrick (c. 390–461) is no exception. Born in Scotland, Patrick was imprisoned and taken to Ireland when he was about sixteen years old. He retuned to Scotland, only to have a dream in which the people of Ireland called out to him, “we beg you, holy youth, to come and walk among us once again.” He did return, and although the details are obscure and the legends are large, he wandered and ministered in Ireland for over thirty years, converting the nation."

When you rise from your bed tomorrow and go to your prayers, you may wish to include "The Prayer of St. Patrick" as part of your Daily Office:

I arise today

Through a mighty strength,

the invocation of the Trinity,

Through a belief in the Threeness,

Through confession of the Oneness

Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today

Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,

Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,

Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,

Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today

Through the strength of the love of cherubim,

In obedience of angels,

In service of archangels,

In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,

In the prayers of patriarchs,

In preachings of the apostles,

In faiths of confessors,

In innocence of virgins,

In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven;

Light of the sun,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of the wind,

Depth of the sea,

Stability of the earth,

Firmness of the rock.

I arise today

Through God's strength to pilot me;

God's might to uphold me,

God's wisdom to guide me,

God's eye to look before me,

God's ear to hear me,

God's word to speak for me,

God's hand to guard me,

God's way to lie before me,

God's shield to protect me,

God's hosts to save me

From snares of the devil,

From temptations of vices,

From every one who desires me ill,

Afar and anear,

Alone or in a multitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and evil,

Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul,

Against incantations of false prophets,

Against black laws of pagandom,

Against false laws of heretics,

Against craft of idolatry,

Against spells of [men and ] women and smiths and wizards,

Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.

Christ shield me today Against poison, against burning,

Against drowning, against wounding,

So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me,

Christ before me,

Christ behind me,

Christ in me,

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ on my right,

Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down,

Christ when I sit down,

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,

Christ in the eye that sees me,

Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through a belief in the Threeness,

Through a confession of the Oneness

Of the Creator of creation.

Since becoming an oblate, I more or less thought my prayer life would some become easier, more dedicated, more focused. That's not happened. I'm reminded of this little story told in Desert Wisdom: Sayings from the Desert Fathers [ed. Yushi Nomura (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1982)] about the Desert Elder Agathon:

The brothers asked Abba Agathon: Father, which of the virtues of our way of life demands the greatest effort? He said to them: Forgive me, but there is no effort comparable to prayer to God. In fact, whenever you want to pray, hostile demons try to interrupt you. Of course they know that nothing but prayer to God entangles them. Certainly when you undertake any other good work, and persevere in it, you obtain rest. But prayer is a battle all the way to the last breath. (103)

For me "the hostile demons" come in a variety of ways: old habits that linger on into my later years: procrastination, a second glass of wine when I really don't need it, an annual March ennui, the low grey clouds, rot-gut eating, low-grade headaches. Some are minor demons, at least one major, but all hostile nonetheless. I can say the morning office with some profit, but withhout any semblence of intensity. The only real thing I continue to know during these past few days is that I'm aware that prayer is hard work. Agathon is right. No one ought to have any delusions about how hard it is to pray. It doesn't come naturally. God must help us.

Praying and working in Haiti / Dr. King's Photographs

In January a group of thirteen Lutherans and Methodists went to Haiti. Dr. Joe King on the University of Kentucky medical faculty worked as our photographer, and he's invited you to see his "Haiti Slideshow." Travel to http://photoking.zenfolio.com/p290900660, use the password mesi (that's Creole for "Thank you"), be our companion as we fly down to Port au Prince, stay a while at the Village of Hope, and then take off for the mountain village of Ranquitte, where we built a small home for a Haitian family in desperate need of shelter. You'll enjoy the trip.

Image: Pastor Larry Bollinger, Director of the Village of Hope, with two children from the Little Children of Jesus Orphanage in Port au Prince, the capital of Haiti.

Photos of our visit to the monastery

Danielle just sent us a note saying that she's posted pictures of our recent winter weekend at the Mt. Tabor Benedictine Monastery. The photo to your left nicely shows you the small labyrinth near Sister Judy's workshop; far back in the picture is St. Joseph's house, our place of lodging for the weekend. To see more photographs, visit her album on Facebook . Thanks, Danielle for the sharing!

The tables go crashing! The whip stings! The money rolls on the floor!

The Gospel for this coming Sunday is a "they-ought-to-have-put-Jesus-under arrest" story, worth reading every day this week as we prepare for the Third Sunday in Lent.

Often called "the cleansing of the temple" to make it sound acceptable for third-graders in Sunday School classes or the Priscilla Club in the local parish, John 2.13-22 is better described as a story about the crashing, wrecking, liquidation, shattering (anything from that anticeptic cleansing!) of the Grand Temple, the Jerusalem "megachurch." Cleansing, after all, makes it sound as though Jesus took a dish cloth and cleaned off some dirty counters. Jesus did not "clean" the temple. He smashed it up, toppled tables, and "let all hell loose," as Daniel B. Clendenin accurately describes the chaos:

Incensed at the sacrilege of it all, Jesus improvised a whip, thrashed the animals from the temple, scattered the coffers of the money changers, and overturned their tables: "How dare you turn my Father's house into a market!"

Strong stuff! Strong enough to want me to take down and throw right out the parish windows all the church's sanitized parlor pictures of Jesus by Warner Sallman! Over a half billion copies have been printed since 1940! Isn't he just adorable? I'll bet he bought that tunic in the temple boutique and no doubt had his hair done in the narthex salon. No wonder we misunderstand Jesus so badly. Bad art, bad theology!

Wondering how in the world the Church's pastors will be preaching on the story, I'll be musing over John's story of Jesus demolishing the Grand Temple in the coming days and will certainly listen carefully next Sunday to my pastor's sermon (he'll need some guts to preach on it). May God bless him with indignation and a vision of Jesus that deserves telling.

Andy becomes at oblate at Mt. Tabor Benedictine Monastery

Although I posted this on Your Family Blog, I'm posting it again here where it also seems appropriate:

On Sunday, March 1, during Morning Prayer with the Benedictine sisters of Mt. Tabor Monastery, I was received into the community as an oblate. Having studied the Rule of St. Benedict intensely for more than a year, I promised to support the Benedictine community with my prayers and a way of life that would give glory to God, especially as that glory is manifested by a life of hospitality, the special mission of Mt. Tabor Monastery. With June, Harry Smiley, and Danielle and Stan Brown, and all the sisters supporting me with their prayers, I'm looking forward to a renewed prayer life and the rededication of my life to obedience to the Gospel.

Image: The Medal of St. Benedict

Among the many ways we pray, we frequently place ourselves before God, giving thanks for his mercies, praising him for his compassion, interceding for our families, neighbors, government, the poor--laying before God a wide range of concerns, the labors of our hearts and minds. Some pray fixed-hour prayers each morning, each evening; some practice centering prayer, the "prayer of the heart." Some practice lectio divina or make frequent use of the Jesus Prayer. But no matter how we pray, in all honesty, we are often aware that our prayers are now and again unnecessarily restricted in the breadth of their concerns. With something like a "checklist" or with petitions associated with a litany, we might well be wearing blinders that reduce what Paul calls "the mind of Christ," narrowing our concerns to a little of "this" and some of "that." Lacking the imagination to see "bigly" before God, we settle for small praying, comfortable praying, unimaginative praying.

The Church, however, gives us resources to widen, expand, and deepened the way we prayer. If you find yourself knowingly repetitive (boring yourself and God perhaps?) and restricted in thoughtful praying, I urge you to visit World in Prayer and take the time to read, investigate, download, and perhaps print and place in your prayerbook what you find at World in Prayer. You will be surprised at the care with which your Christian brothers and sisters have opened themselves to new avenues of concern, new venues of focus, and new appreciations for what God is doing, what we need to do, and how these two fundamentals may come together in our lives, in our prayers. Go ahead: take a look as how others are looking at prayer.

Image Source

The The Merton Institute sent me two quotations from Thomas Merton's Jounrals yesterday. As I read them, I thought to myself, "Well, Andy, haven't we all had days like these?" Here's what Merton said to himself (and to us):

In the afternoon I went out to the old horse barn with the Book of Proverbs and indeed the whole Bible, and I was wandering around in the hayloft, where there is a big gap in the roof. One of the rotting floorboards gave way under me and I nearly feel through. Afterwards I sat and looked out at the hills and the gray clouds and couldn't read anything. When the flies got too bad, I wandered across the bare pasture and sat over by the enclosure wall, perched on the edge of a ruined bathtub that has been placed there for the horses to drink out of. A pipe comes through the wall and plenty of water flows into the bathtub from a spring somewhere in the woods, and I couldn't read there either. I just listened to the clean water flowing and looked at the wreckage of the horsebarn on top of the bare knoll in front of me and remained drugged with happiness and with prayer.

Thomas Merton. Entering the Silence, Journals Volume 1. Ed., Jonathan Montaldo (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), 363.

A Thought for the Day

Morning after morning I try to study the 6th chapter of St. John, and it is too great. I cannot study it. I simply sit still and try to breathe. (Entering the Silence, 364.)

Image: a photograph of an old barn that Tom Merton took with his 35 mm camera

Amma Syncletica on Starting the Fire

When a few of us were on retreat at Mt. Tabor Benedictine monastery, we were lucky enough to find a wood-burning stove in St. Joseph's House, our lodgings for the weekend. It being a tad chilly, we decided to start a fire in the stove. After rumpling up some newspapers, covering them with some dried-kindling branches, and completing our stacking with some fair-sized logs, we lit our matches. We soon discovered that the chimney was not quite warm enough to allow an updraft of smoke; instead, a good bit of smoke came puffing out of the stove door. Then—wouldn’t you know it! The fire-alarm went off, and Harry had to pull the battery out to shut off the noise. However, upon closing the stove door, the chimney finally got warm enough to accept the smoke, and sure enough, we soon had a good fire burning, warming us all toasty-roasty.

That little experience reminded me a story in Yushi Nomura’s Desert Wisdom: Sayings from the Desert Fathers, wherein I once read that

Amma Syncletica said: In the beginning, there is struggle and a lot of work for those who come near to God. But after that, there is indescribable joy. It is just like building a fire--at first it's smoky and your eyes water, but later you get the desired result. Thus we ought to light the divine fire in ourselves with tears and effort. (26)

Amma Syncletica, one of the few desert mothers whose saying have been preserved for us, is right. When we first begin to practice silent, wordless, and imageless prayer (in addition to our Morning and Evening Prayers), we may well experience considerable difficulty. At first our thoughts and mental pictures seem to overwhelm us; it’s as though we are fighting great battalions of mental and emotional barriers in order to enter the Great Peace. But after a while—especially when we lay our thoughts and images aside with a gentle word expressing our intention to be with God—then, slowly but surely, developing peace comes and eventually we settle into "indescribable joy," as Amma Syncletica puts it. Yes, it takes some effort, but it’s “the most non-violent effort possible,” as Thomas Keating likes to remind us. Eventually the fire catches on and burns, the smoke goes up and away, and we are in the warmth of God's Presence.

Sr. Joan Chittister in Illuminated Life says that "silence is that place just before the voice of God. It is the void in which God and I meet in the center of my soul."

I once had something of an gentle argument with a teacher of philosophy as to whether you not silence can be heard. He said, "No': I said, "Yes." Now I suppose in the strictest sense of the word silence, you can't hear it if you take a reductionist point of view. After all, for a sound to be possible, there needs to be a sound-receptor: at least a human ear or something like an ear, perhaps some mechanical radar-receiver probing the universe, picking up the vibrations of the universe as they make their way to our earth. If there's no ear, there's no silence. So, I suppose, in times before life evolved far enough to have ears, before we were smart enough to invent instruments that detect sound vibrations, there was in fact no sound--unless you allow that the Most Holy Trinity, who creates sound, also listens to the sounds of his creation.

But apart from the "receptor-needed" debate, I am convinced that you can hear silence even without ears, even if you are stone deaf. From experience in quite solid silence (the silence of a cave interior, for example) you can mentally anticipate sound and so mark off and "box up" silence so as to experience and listen to silence in all its deepness. After all, just as I surely "hear" the four-beat "rest" or silence between two musical notes when listening to a symphany, I also hear a Great Silence when it comes along. But more importantly, I am also aware that in silence God genuinely manages to let us hear him (sometimes loudly). In silence we can hear God because, as St. John of the Cross says, "silence is the first language of God." Paradoxically, God speaks with silence. This is not to say that silence is God's only language. Certainly not. But before the Holy One speaks--especially in prophetic voices, in our thinking, in our consciences, and in our awareness of other people, and especially in Jesus--God enjoys speaking, chanting, and singing his silence and asks us to join him in his soundless sabbath resting.

When Christians take special care to enter God's silence, not only do we enjoy the benefits of living in God's first language, but at the same time we provide ourselves with an environment that gives God the oppportunity to surprise us when he does in fact speak. This is why many of us appreciate what has come to be known as a "contemplative Eucharist." When we gather together for a contemplative Eucharist, upon entering the room, we see people simply sitting or kneeling; they are breathing, thinking, praying, and waiting in silence. Some are quietly placing book marks or ribbons in their hymnals. Others are simply looking at the altar, icons, paintings, and other works on art in the sanctuary. Hardly anyone chats or carries on a conversation. Then, at the right time, the pastor or priest enters in silence and sits down to join everyone in the Great Quietness. After a while the Eucharist begins and words begin to be spoken. More silence is gathered up after the reading of lessons as quiet people sit, stand, and kneel, often to enjoy God's silent Presence. After the sermon, there is more silence. Throughout the Holy Communion, the sanctuary is again and again wrapped in silence.

What happens with so much silence is that God comes to us so that we can hear him with more awareness, both in the quietness, in spoken words, and in the reception of Jesus' body and blood in the Eucharist. The welcome silence is the open rest between our words and actions so that we listen more attentively and watch more carefully.

The gift of such silence encouages us to open ourselves to more and more silence in our daily lives. Perhaps to the practice of centering prayer. And more and more silence in our daily lives encourages us to gather together on Sunday to share God's first language as a community. Just so the silence accompanies us as God speaks his sometimes frightening, but always gracious Word. It's really quite a miracle.

Back from the Monastery / Now read this!

I 've been back from Mt. Tabor Monastery for a hour or so, and of course one of the first things I did was go to the post box, get the mail, and read it. Always eager to get The Messenger of Faith Lutheran Church (my parish newsleter), I immediately began reading and was stunned, delighted, proud, and astonished while pushing myself through my pastor's monthly encouragement. I'd like for you to read it here (and please read it before you go on!)

Now that I've taken a good second look at Pastor Luckey's words, written "in the disruptive peace of Easter," I'm eager--with you!--to see what I can do to join up with God who stands

defiant and belligerent over any human institution that causes death, be they predatory payday lenders, religious leaders who club gays and lesbians with a heavy Bible, or ambitious politicians who curry favor with the powerful while ignoring the cries of the most vulnerable in their cities (and one might add: in the mountain hollers].

I'm therefore going to take seriously my pastor's urgings. Having already submitted my 2008 tax information to someone who knows how to squeeze every ounce of legitimate deduction possibile, I hope within a few days to find out how much of a refund I will get. And, trust me, a sizeable portion of that refund will find its way to my parish and its support of "Habitat for Humanity, Mission Lexington's healthcare programs, and my Pastor's Discretionary Fund which financially assists people in times of emergency [especially the poor in Haiti]."

If you are a member of my parish, I encourage you to do something similar. And if you're not a member of my parish, I urge you to support financially your church (or some other agency), provided your money goes to undo those who cause harm to the poor or somehow actually helps the poor directly. In fact, I would encourage you not to give to anyone who uses the money to benefit their own institution (no self-aggrandizing building projects, please!); give only to those people who, in turn, help the poor and provide help for those suffering from injustice. If you want to help and are not a member of my parish, I recommend Food for the Poor, Mt Tabor Monastery, or Christian Flights International. You can trust my parish, Food for the Poor, Mt. Tabor Monastery, or Christian Flights International to squeeze your dollars hard and long to help the poor and fight injustice.