Lent Madness: meh, maybe, actually ... no

So, Lent Madness.  I was introduced to it last year, about halfway through the Lenten season.  Since I love history and learning about the saints, I kind of got into it, though I don’t even follow the actual NCAA March Madness (that’s right, I am a certified heretic here in Kansas).  I also really like Scott Gunn and the things put out by Forward Movement.  I never did jump in with both feet though.  I know it is meant to be both fun and educational, an innovative way of introducing or reintroducing the heroes of the faith, but the whole concept of voting for saints in a competitive bracket sat uneasily with me from the start.  And, I’ll confess, after Frances Perkins won the “golden halo” last year, I was one of those who was like, “Wait – what?”

So, I’ve been kind of ambivalent about it, and I wasn’t planning on taking part this year.  But, as mentioned, I’ve got great respect for the guys behind this idea ( I was also pleased to see that Fr. Robert Hendrickson is going to be one of the "celebrity bloggers" this year), and there has also been some gentle encouragement from my own rector for our parish to get involved.  We even have the bracket posted in our parish hall.  So, I decided rather last minute to give Lent Madness a second chance.  I voted in the first two or three rounds, and was generally enjoying it.  Then I read this post by the Crusty Old Dean, and it reminded me of (or helped me to clarify) all the reasons why I really don’t care for Lent Madness.  (His post is much more informative than this one of mine, so if you're pressed for time, tarry not here.)  So, I decided to sit on the sidelines for a bit.  I would still follow the posts about the saints from day to day, but would refrain from voting. 

Well, after yesterday’s matchup, I’m not even sure I want to continue to follow the posts.  The bout was between Antony of Egypt and Mary of Egypt.  It turned into something of a riot in the comments section.  Commenters had no shortage of fodder for their fast and furious input.  We had two ascetic desert hermits from the North Africa of the third and fourth centuries. Hard to imagine a more far removed time, place, and culture. Now throw in a bunch of 21st century American Christians, some of whom are being introduced to these saints for the first time via a three paragraph introduction on an admittedly snarky website that casts saints in competitive head-to-head matches – what could possibly go wrong?

Some were suspicious of Antony’s motives in giving away all his worldly possessions.  Some found Mary’s whole hagiography problematic, either viewing her as the victim of patriarchal misrepresentation or seemingly dismissing the very idea of sexual sin (one commenter criticized Mary for engaging in “self slut shaming”).  The most frequent topic of discussion, however, concerned Antony’s sister.  According to the “celebrity blogger” who introduced Antony for this round, after Antony “heard the gospel command to not worry about tomorrow, he promptly gave away what remained of his money, put his sister in a house of virgins, and took up a life of solitude.” As soon as I read that, I knew there would be comments a-plenty, but holy cats, even I was taken aback. The resounding cries of condemnation ran the gamut, describing Antony as “a very off-putting figure”, an “unfeeling brother”, and a “loser”. The one that took the cake, and which I must believe was intentionally inflammatory was: “Antony was a crazy jackass who treated his sister abominably. Boo.”  Quite a few people declared that they were choosing not to vote this round, apparently as a kind of protest against being expected to choose between two equally unworthy candidates.  Incidentally, I found it puzzling that nowhere in the introductory blog was there mention of Antony as the father of monasticism.  I would think that’s a pretty significant detail.

 

Unlike the Crusty Old Dean, I would stop well short of identifying myself as a Lent Madness hater.  In fairness, there was no small number of commenters who very ably made the case for seeking to understand Antony and Mary on their own terms, not through a modern lens, for doing further research rather than jumping to conclusions based on such scanty information, and for being open and humble enough to recognize Christ in the other, even and especially when that other seems incomprehensible (this seemed to be the primary challenge to these saints’ detractors; they simply could not or would not see beyond their own modern assumptions).  In conclusion, I don’t expect to be jumping on the Lent Madness bandwagon this year.  Primarily, it’s a matter of personal taste, so I don’t want to make too much of this.  But there is also an element of my distaste that is based on principle.  I absolutely believe that we should be encouraging people (and taking the opportunity ourselves) to learn about and reflect over the lives of the saints.  I’m not sure Lent Madness is the best way to do it.  It’s a venue that seems, by its very organizational structure, to encourage simplistic thinking and polarization.  This corresponds with my more general and increasing skepticism about the potential of any social media for fostering meaningful community.  Sometimes it seems to happen, but the potential for misunderstanding and damage seems so much greater that I wonder if it’s worth it.  Maybe I’m being too negative; I pray that those who take part in Lent Madness are strengthened and inspired in their faith as they learn about the great broadness of the communion of saints.  It seems that many would claim this has indeed been true in their experience.  But not in mine.  So, maybe I’ll give up following Lent Madness for Lent.

Peace of Christ.            

In Gratitude for the Celtic Christian Tradition

Currently, I'm reading at least four books of the daily reading, devotional type, and I have several more that I'm waiting to get to.  So, when our most recent excursion to Eighth Day Books resulted in my wife picking up a copy of Daily Readings from Prayers and Praises in the Celtic Tradition (part of The Daily Reading Series from Templegate Publishers), I told myself I wasn't going to start reading it at this time.  But, it's March, and the Scots-Irish river is running high, as it always is this time of year.  Incidentally, stop by our place anytime if you want to get your Celtic fix.  The folk music is always playing, and we keep the kitchen well stocked with cabbage and potatoes, and plenty of good, strong stout, of course.  All of which goes to say that I did't hold out very long.  So, here's a snippet from the introduction, by editors Esther de Waal and the late A. M. Allchin .  It also strikes an appropriate tone for Lent.

We are grateful for a tradition which rejoices in creation and we owe much to the seeing eye of the eighth-century Irish hermit, whose sight, washed clean by contemplation, views the world with extraordinary clarity.  But we are even more grateful for a tradition which will not let us enjoy a theology of creation without also presenting us with a theology of redemption and reminding us of the cross.  We cannot have the light without the darkness.  For, ultimately, we do not even want to evade the cost of discipleship by being allowed to escape into some sort of easygoing religion which glosses over the reality of sin and the need for repentance.

But to discover a tradition just because we need it can be a dangerous undertaking.  It is vital to be strictly honest here and not to lapse into any sentimentality or romanticism which will merely find in the Celtic world material to feed contemporary needs and longings, and thus to remake the past in our own image.  What follows should be allowed to speak for itself, with all its strangeness and complexity. 

I think the warning against "sentimentality or romanticism" is well placed today, when all things Celtic (or so called) are in vogue.  It's an interesting reversal of fortunes for Celtic culture as regards popular sentiment. Not withstanding my own deep appreciation for the complexity of history and the Christian tradition, such sentimentalism is something I know I must guard against.  Only then will I draw from the deep well-springs of this tradition, which is indeed one for which "we are grateful".

Peace.

"The Monk is Not an Anachronism"

I just recently began reading The Rule of Saint Benedict, the fifth century classic of Western monasticism.  I'm kind of surprised it's taken me this long to get around to it, since I've been fairly enthralled with the idea of the monastic life since I was a kid.  During my most recent excursion to Eighth Day Books, I bought an edition published by Vintage Spiritual Classics, and the following is from the preface by Thomas Moore.

"The emphasis in The Rule on contemplative practices gives it its exceptional value and, of course, over the centuries has inspired many reformers, organizations, and individuals to create fresh ways of being contemplative.  The Rule refers to the chanting of the psalms as the Opus Dei, or Work of God, and for the monk it is certainly true that common prayer, carried out in a spirit of contemplation and with beauty, is his or her central work ...

"The combination of being aware of the divine presence everywhere, chanting the Divine Office with special care to art, praying briefly but devotionally, reading contemplatively, and treating manual labor for the community as a part of spiritual practice -- all these five daily give life a special quality, a tranquility and calm that are difficult or impossible to find in the non-monastic world.  It seems true that ours is still an age of anxiety, not a psychological problem but an existential condition created by the busy, productive, and unthoughtful style of modern work, play, and home life. ...

"The monk is not an anachronism, nor is The Rule of Saint Benedict antique and irrelevant.  It is modern life, rather, that is not in accord with the fundamental needs of the human heart.  From the viewpoint of the human soul, our modern style of living is the irrelevancy.  By not enjoying a genuine common life and by not giving ourselves a degree of contemplation, we wound our need for emotional quiet and for meaning.  And so it is appropriate to return to this ancient sketch of an alternative life, to reread it and discuss it, and, with imagination and reflection, bring its spirit into the workplace, the home, and the city, where it could transform a culture of anxiety into a community of peace and mutual regard."

To that I say a hearty "amen."  And as Moore suggests, I hope occasionally to "discuss" The Rule here on this blog, insofar as I'm given grace for some insight, or simply to voice questions.  A happy Saint Andrew's eve!
Peace.

A Saint for Today

O God of the prophets, you opened the eyes of your servant Dominic to perceive a famine of hearing the word of the Lord, and moved him, and those he drew about him, to satisfy that hunger with sound preaching and fervent devotion: Make your Church, dear Lord, in this and every age, attentive to the hungers of the world, and quick to respond in love to those who are perishing; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.
~Collect for Feast of Saint Dominic, Priest and Friar

Saint Dominic was born in Spain in the late twelfth century.  As the founder of the Dominican order of friars, he had a profound influence on the Church and world of the middle ages (the Dominicans, of course, continue as a religious order today).  But he is a timely example for our own day, as well.  The Dominicans, or Order of Friars Preachers, were organized in large part for the purpose of increasing the spiritual scholarship of the Church through study and devotion to the fundamentals of the faith, and then sharing the fruit of that study through preaching and teaching.  As a religious order, the friars adhered to a vowed rule of life, which was lived out within a dedicated community.

I believe that the Church today has a great responsibility to focus upon the same needs to which Dominic was called: the study and teaching of true doctrine, and the formation of Christian community.  The need for a focus upon learning and devotion to the essentials of our faith (both through catechesis and continuing formation) is ever present, but it seems especially critical now for the Episcopal Church.  I think it is difficult to argue with the opinion that in recent years there has been a consistent trend within much of the leadership of the Episcopal Church to downplay the place of Scripture and Christian tradition in favor of cultural relevance and experiential knowledge.  I don't wish to sound melodramatic, but I do believe the future of the Episcopal Church depends on a renewed devotion to the catholic, apostolic faith which we proclaim every week in our recitation of the Creed, but which I fear fewer and fewer Episcopalians are expected to understand or greatly value.

As for the need for Christian community, I believe this is one of the great challenges of our day.  Relationship is the reality for which humanity is intended.  Relationship lies at the very heart of God, the Ultimate Reality, as beautifully and mysteriously revealed in the doctrine of the Trinity.  It is into that relationship, and into relationship with every created thing, that God calls us.  In our world today, we pride ourselves on being more connected than ever before.  Through the marvels of technology, we can follow events on the other side of the globe in real time, and instantly chat with friends thousands of miles away.  And yet, how many of us know our neighbors next door?  I believe that the Church is being called to remind us of what we seem to be quickly losing in this most modern era.  The Church, which maintains that the greatest event of all time is not to be expected with the next Apple technology, but rather happened two thousand years ago in the coming of One who calls us into unity with God, is well suited to call us now back to the reality for which we were made: the love of God and the love of neighbor.  It is a call to meaningful, loving relationship in community, made to a world that is nothing if not busy.

Finally, it should be noted that Dominic did not simply seclude himself in an ivory tower, content to studiously delve the depths of doctrine.  He preached what he studied, and practiced what he preached.  Dominicans vow themselves not only to a life of study and preaching, but of poverty as well.  In the language of the prophet Amos, today's collect speaks of Dominic perceiving "a famine of hearing the word of the Lord," which references his call to preaching by alluding to another famous episode from his life.  While the young Dominic was a student at university in Castile, a severe famine struck the region.  In response, Dominic sold all he had, including his beloved books, for the relief of the suffering.  He is reputed to have said, "I will not study on dead skins when living skins are dying of hunger."

May God grant us grace and wisdom to partake of the riches of saints such as Dominic in our own day.

Peace.

On the Feast of Thomas a Kempis

A very small sampling of wisdom from his classic, The Imitation of Christ:

From Book II "Directives for the Interior Life":

Always take the lowest place for yourself and the highest will be given to you.  There is a highest place only because there is a lowest.  The saints who are greatest before God are least in their own eyes, and the greater their glory the more humble they are in themselves.  Because they are filled with truth and the glory of heaven, they seek no empty glory ... 

Jesus today has many lovers of His heavenly kingdom, but few of them carry his cross.  He has many friends who ask for consolation, but few who pray for affliction.  He has many companions to share His meals, but few to share His abstinence.  We all want to rejoice with Him, but few of us are willing to suffer anything for His sake.  Many follow Jesus up to the breaking of the bread, but few go on to the drinking of the chalice of His passion.

From Book III "On Interior Consolation":

Blessed are the ears that are attuned to God's quiet whisper, and ignore the world's raucous sounds.

If I am only outwardly admonished and not interiorly set on fire I may die and find that my life was without fruit, and at the moment of judgment I may be condemned for hearing the word but not fulfilling it, for knowing it but not loving it, for believing it but not living it.