Poem for Eastertide

Easter Victory

The kingdom of the iron bars,

Shut fast on all, the great and small,

Sought to receive One whose descent

Was like a host vast as the stars

Upon some low, unseemly foe

Whose futile counter soon is spent,

And lies defeated, and unmourned.

So vain was the attempted grip

Upon the Son of Man, that One

Who in His dying trampled Hell.

Th’ Eternal in a Man, who ripped

Apart the gates of Death, a quake

That shook the cosmos.  Th’ ancient spell

Undone, in a moment, upturned.

Happy Eastertide!

Alleluia.  Christ is risen.

The Lord is risen indeed.  Alleluia.

The Shaping Quality of Our Every Moment

Meanwhile, we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked.  For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.    ~ II Corinthians 5:2-4

And that long record of our choices -- your
every choice -- is itself the final
body, the eternal dress.
~Scott Cairns, Disciplinary Treatises: 12. The End of Heaven and the End of Hell 


There are those passages of literature or philosophy that have stuck with me, as I make a conscious decision to turn them over in my mind, recognizing their value and wishing to internalize them. One such passage is in Mere Christianity, where C. S. Lewis speaks of our every decision as moving us in one of two directions, shaping us into a creature either more heavenly or more hellish.  It's a passage which first made an impact on me, I suppose, because I took it to express a deep truth that I needed to hear, an articulation of a difficult reality that helped me by encouraging me to face and understand that reality.  It seems I have need to be reminded again.

It is, after all, rather hard to accept; that our every decision is weighed, so to speak.  We are constantly either doing right or wrong, and there is no middle ground, no standing still.  Talk about pressure.  Talk about moralistic legalism.  It reminds me of George Harrison's song "Rising Sun":

On the street of villains taken for a ride
You can have the devil as a guide
Crippled by the boundaries, programmed into guilt
Til your nervous system starts to tilt
In a room of mirrors you can see for miles
But everything that's there is in disguise
Every word you've uttered and every thought you've had
Is all inside your file the good and the bad

But in the rising sun you can feel your life begin...

On the avenue of sinners I have been employed
Working there til I was near destroyed
I was almost a statistic inside a doctor's case
When I heard the messenger from inner space...

Much as I love George (and no matter how good the song), I know I shouldn't be looking to him for theological instruction; other numbers from that same album, his last, Brainwashed, include "Any Road (Will Get You There)" and "P2 Vatican Blues".  The source notwithstanding, isn't it just this kind of slavery that Jesus came to free us from?  To liberate us from the strictures of a moral law that we bent creatures are incapable of keeping?  Thank God for grace, right!  No more pressure, no sweating the small stuff (or any stuff, really), because God has done it all.  We've been justified by faith, and the work is done.  Man, that was, well ... really easy, actually.  (What's that?  Cheap grace?  Yeah, I don't know what you're talking about ...)

The problem is, there's enough truth in that thinking to make it truly dangerous.  Jesus's death and resurrection did indeed free us from the tyrannical impossibility of attempting to justify ourselves before God.  It is through Christ alone that we are justified, restored to right relationship with God.  But grace is not cheap.  The Christian life is not easy.  And with the turning of the soul to God through Christ, the work of sanctification is just begun.  It is the work of being made holy, 'fit for heaven'.  It is a work in which the Holy Spirit leads, but we must choose daily to follow.  It is a work which continues for a lifetime (and I am inclined to believe it may well continue after this mortal life, as well).

It's easy to rationalize away that kind of hard belief when I'm faced with some temptation, some self-serving desire.  After all, I've been forgiven already, right?  It's not like I'm really harming anyone.  Getting so hung up on doing the right or wrong thing -- isn't that like 'works righteousness', or something?

It's interesting how the Holy Spirit draws to our attention those things we need to hear.  I'm a reader, so the Spirit often moves through books to get to me.  It seems I can't pick up a book these days without hearing this theme.  Here's a passage from a sermon by E. B. Pusey:

"Everything may, and does, minister to heaven or hell ... We are, day by day, and hour by hour, influenced by everything around us; rising or falling, sinking or recovering, receiving impressions which are to last forever; taking our colour and mould from everything which passes around us and in us, and not the less unperceived; each touch slight, as impressed by a single spiritual hand, but, in itself, not the less, rather the more lasting, since what we are yielding ourselves to is, in the end, the finger of God or the touch of Satan ... we are receiving moment by moment the hallowed impress of the heavenly hand, conforming our lineaments one by one, each faculty of our spirit, and this poor earthly tenement of our body itself, to the image of God wherein we were re-created, or we are gradually being dried up and withered by the blasting burning torch of the arch-fiend; each touch is of fire,  burning out our proud rebellious flesh, or searing our life; some more miserable falls sink us deeper; some more difficult victories, won by God's help over ourselves, the flesh, the world, and Satan, raise us on the heavenward path; but each sense, at every avenue, each thought, each word, each act, is in its degree doing that endless work; every evil thought, every idle word, and still more, each wilful act, is stamping upon men the mark of the beast; each slightest deed of faith is tracing deeper the seal of God upon their forehead."  

As Pusey describes it, there is a war on for our souls at any given moment, in which we take part, living our lives in such a way as yielding either to "the hallowed impress of the heavenly hand" or else to the "blasting burning torch of the arch-fiend."  No doubt many today (even some in the Church) would find such language dated, superstitious.  But the truth asserted here (and I do believe it so) may be  presented without such stark and colorful religious language.  Thomas Merton said, "A life is either all spiritual or not spiritual at all. No man can serve two masters. Your life is shaped by the end you live for. You are made in the image of what you desire."  Where Pusey presents to us the unseen spiritual realities, Merton presents the same principle in a manner more pragmatic and observable.  Even someone who is not religious would, I believe, acknowledge that we are shaped by what we desire, what we live for.

In his book Tokens of Trust: An Introduction to Christian Belief, Rowan Williams uses the articles of the Creed as a framework for exploring the Christian faith.  The final chapter, then, addresses what Christians believe about 'the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come'.  He writes:

"Death is a nakedness to which we must all come, a spiritual stripping, as we are confronted by God.  The identities we have made, that we have pulled around ourselves like a comfortable dressing gown or a smart suit will dissolve, and what is deepest in us, what we most want, what we most care about, will be laid bare.  We are right to feel apprehensive about that, and we are wrong to brush away the sense of proper fear before God's judgment, however much we dislike the extravagant or hysterical expressions of it that have characterized some ages of Christian history.  To the degree to which we don't know ourselves -- a pretty high degree for nearly all of us -- we are bound to think very soberly indeed of this moment of truth."

However, the great and terrible Day of the LORD, "this moment of truth", is not simply a moment at the end of time, however near or distant that may be.  It is every moment of every day that we submit ourselves to the judgment of Christ; and the way I daily choose to live may be an indicator of the extent to which I am aware of this truth.  Williams continues:

"The coming judgment of Christ is something we have to be aware of day by day, not a remote or mythical prospect in the future.  Every day we have to become accustomed to the truth.  And what happens when all our defenses against the truth are finally taken away? When we have to come to terms with God in some unimaginable dimension where our usual strategies of hiding from ourselves and the rest of reality are not available?  How shall we manage being exposed to God and to our own consciousness as we really are?  The New Testament already speaks of this in terms of 'stripping away' -- St Paul can talk of our final destiny both as a frightening levelling of all we thought we had built or achieved (1 Corinthians 3.11-15, 2 Corinthians 5.1-5), and as a being clothed with a new 'covering' which is Christ's life (1 Corinthians 15. 53-4, and the same passage from 2 Corinthians).  Death means that something is removed that stands between us and God.  But the hope is that if we have accustomed ourselves to living with Christ in this life something has been 'constructed' that allows us to survive the terror of meeting the truth face to face: the truth has come to be, in some degree, 'in us', to use the language of St John's first letter.  At one level, we are left naked and undefended, with nothing of our own to appeal to or hide behind; yet we trust that we are gifted with the clothing, the defense we need."

One effect of all this is the belief that there is no moment or aspect of human life, no matter how fleeting or small, that is insignificant.  Human life truly matters, every bit of it, all the time.  I think this is an incredibly positive realization, and one that cannot but have a profound impact on the way we live our lives and how we relate to every man, woman, and child.  But I can and may still receive all this as a burden, a suffocating mentality in which I never have a moment's rest.  It need not be so.  To say that every moment of my life is shaping me for eternity in one way or another does not mean that I must be constantly and actively engaged in good works (that would not be possible, after all; and, not incidentally, there is an ancient tradition in the Church that regards Christians as called to lives of action, or contemplation, or both; but it is contemplation that is the higher calling).  The key is that, whether active or at rest, in every moment I am with Christ; I have been clothed with Him, have put my trust in Him.  As Williams says elsewhere, "God is at work in the continuing fellowship of flesh and blood human beings who have received Jesus' breath in themselves -- even at the (frequent) moments when they are not doing anything specifically Christlike..."  This is not 'works righteousness', at least not our works; it is the work of God, molding us when we choose to be with Christ.  Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.  Several translations render this verse 'that you believe in him', which unfortunately can give an impression of intellectual assent (even the devils believe) rather than whole-hearted trusting in God, believing Him to be trustworthy.  And so, at the last, because "we are gifted with the clothing ... we need", even Christ Himself, who has been working in us all our lives through to fit us for heaven, we may approach the throne of grace with confidence.  The One we see at the last Day will be our friend, and not a stranger.

I'll close now where I started. Having already considerably wrestled with the issue, I finally grabbed my copy of Mere Christianity and flipped through it until I found the desired passage. As he often does, the sage Lewis spoke to my heart and put the wrestling to rest; or was that You?

"People often think of Christianity as a kind of bargain in which God says, 'If you keep a lot of rules I'll reward you, and if you don't, I'll do the other thing.'  I do not think that is the best way of looking at it.  I would much rather say that every time you make a choice, you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what is was before.  And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or a hellish creature: either into a creature that is at harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures, and with itself.  To be the one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power.  To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness.  Each of us at each moment is progressing to the one state or the other."

O God, the protector of all who put their trust in you, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy: Increase and multiply upon us your mercy; that, with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not things eternal; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.
~ BCP, Collect for the Season after Pentecost, Proper 12

Williams: 'Around him the whole universe reorganizes itself'

(this post is part 3 of a series - part 1,  part 2)

A final reflection on and  excerpt from Rowan Williams’ book The Dwelling of the Light: Praying with Icons of Christ.

As has been seen, Adam and Eve figure prominently in the icon of the resurrection.  Of course, Adam and Eve, and the opening chapters of Genesis, have become increasingly controversial in the modern era, with its scientific advances and theories about the origins of life and so forth.  I recall a conversation I had with a friend, in which he made a comment about doubting whether the doctrine of the Fall made any sense in light of theories about the biological evolution of humanity.  In his words, “What was there for us to fall from?”  I found a reasonable answer to that question provided by John Polkinghorne (the esteemed quantum physicist and Anglican priest).  He was actually responding to the question, ‘do you think Adam and Eve actually existed?’ which he answered thusly (I’m paraphrasing him): If we accept that there was a point in time when a man and a woman became spiritually conscious, that is, aware of God, then it is perfectly reasonable to assert that ‘Adam and Eve’ existed.  And it is also sadly probable that these first true humans were also the first to consciously turn away from God. 

In the excerpt below, Williams echoes this understanding of the Genesis narrative.  “Adam and Eve stand for wherever it is in the human story that fear and refusal of God began”.  And the good news, the gospel, is that Christ has been there, and has redeemed that moment.  But it is not only this particular fall that is redeemed, it is the Fall, the curse under which all of humanity and all of creation has groaned, the brokenness that afflicts our world.  All is bound up and brought together in wholeness by the victorious work of God in the resurrection of His Son, Jesus Christ, “the one in whose company we come fully to life.”

Peace, and happy Eastertide!

   

“What Christ does and suffers affects all things, all areas of human experience and so all aspects of human relation, including relation with what is not human.  Around him the whole universe reorganizes itself, just as human history reorganizes itself around this new centre which is at the same time the ancient and unchangeable centre of God’s glory.  Once again, the Jesus who lived and died as a particular human being ‘opens out’ upon the glory of God.  And that glory is here visually brought down into the middle of the realm of death so that death may be swallowed up.

“As his hand grasps the hands of Adam and Eve, Jesus goes back to embrace the first imaginable moment of rebellion and false direction in human life – as in the icons and liturgy of the transfiguration we are reminded that he goes fully into the depths of human agony.  He reaches back to and beyond where human memory begins: ‘Adam and Eve’ stand for wherever it is in the human story that fear and refusal of God began – not a moment we can date in ordinary history, any more than we can date in the history of each one of us where we began to forget God.  But we are always dealing with the after-effects of that moment, both as a human race and as particular persons.  The icon declares that wherever that lost moment is or was, Christ has been there, to implant the possibility, never destroyed, of another turning, another future; in his resurrection, he brings all those possibilities to reality. 

“Looking at this, then, we can first of all be sure that Christ has chosen to accompany us from the first point at which we began to lose our faithfulness to God; that he has been there at the roots of whatever sin and self-destructiveness we have been involved in; and that he has already sown in us the seeds that will come to new life.  How they do depends on whether we are willing to put our trust in him as the one in whose company we come fully to life.”

~ Rowan Williams, The Dwelling of the Light

Two Ancient Readings for Eastertide

O God, whose blessed Son didst manifest himself to his disciples in the breaking of bread: Open, we pray thee, the eyes of our faith, that we may behold him in all his redeeming work; through the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.  Amen.
~ Collect for the Third Sunday of Easter

Two readings from the ancient Fathers, which are appropriate for Easter, and which I have found inspiring.  First, from a sermon by Saint Ephrem the Syrian.  I'm always delighted by the way in which the Fathers see the whole of Scripture as turning upon and pointing to the supreme event of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  I also love the triumphant Christus Victor understanding of the work of Christ, so prominent in the early Church.  Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  

From Saint Ephrem the Syrian:

"Our Lord was trodden underfoot by death, and in turn trod upon death as upon a road.  He submitted to death and endured it of His own free will, in order to destroy death against death's will.  For our Lord went out carrying His cross, according to death's wish; He cried out on the cross and led the dead out from hell, against death's wish ...

And so, since death could not devour Him without a body and the world of the dead could not swallow Him up without flesh, He came to the Virgin, so that He might receive from her a chariot on which to ride to the underworld.  In the body He had assumed He entered death's domain, broke open its strong-room and scattered the treasure.

And so He came to Eve, the mother of all the living.  She is the vineyard whose hedge death opened by Eve's own hands, so that she might taste death's fruit.  Thus Eve, the mother of all the living, became the source of death for all the living. 

But Mary blossomed, the new vine compared with the old vine, Eve.  Christ, the new life, lived in her, so that when death, brazen as ever, approached her in search of his prey, life, the bane of death, was hidden within her mortal fruit.  And so when death, suspecting nothing, swallowed Him up, death set life free, and with life a multitude of men.

This glorious son of the carpenter, who set up His cross above the all-consuming world of the dead, led the human race into the abode of life.  Because through the tree the human race had fallen into the regions below, He crossed over on the tree of the cross into the abode of life.  The bitter shoot had been grafted on to the tree, and now the sweet shoot was grafted on to it so that we might recognize the One whom no creature can resist.

Glory to you!  You built your cross as a bridge over death, so that departed souls might pass from the realm of death to the realm of life.  Glory to you!  You put on the body of a mortal man and made it the source of life for all mortal men.  You are alive!  Your murderers handled your life like farmers: they sowed it like grain deep in the earth, for it to spring up and raise with itself a multitude of men."          ~ Saint Ephrem, Sermon on our Lord, 3-4.9

Having "set up His cross above the all-consuming world of the dead", Christ grasps Adam and Eve to lead them "from the realm of death to the realm of life."

 And here is Origen, reflecting on "the ransom", a common theme in patristic writings on the atonement:

"But to whom did He give His soul as a ransom for many?  Surely not to God.  Could it, then, be to the Evil One?  For he had us in his power, until the ransom for us should be given to him, namely the soul of Jesus; and he had been deceived, and led to suppose that he was capable of mastering that soul, and he did not see that to hold Him involved a trial of strength greater than he was equal to.  Therefore also Death, though he thought he had prevailed against Him, no longer lords it over Him, He having become free among the dead, and stronger than the power of death, and so much stronger than death that all who will amongst those who are overcome by death may also follow Him, death no longer prevailing against them.  For everyone who is with Jesus is unassailable by death.                   ~Origen, Commentary on Matthew xvi. 8

It's interesting to me that Origen's concluding remarks here represent essentially my own attempt to explain the resurrection to my young children.  More than once, when we've talked about the meaning of Easter, I've said something to the effect of, "Because Jesus was raised to life, it means He is stronger than death.  And since we are with Jesus, we don't need to be afraid of death either."

A question for the reader (if I may be so presumptuous): When we seek to explain a spiritual truth (e.g. the atonement, the Trinity, the Eucharist) to an inquiring child, should we expect to find ourselves coming nearer to the heart of the matter than we might in a "mature, adult conversation", or is it more likely that we shall find ourselves trying to convey complex, theological doctrines in a simplistic manner that does not adequately plumb the depths of deep concepts which deserve nothing less than a lifetime of reflection? I am not suggesting that we shouldn't try to impart the faith to our children in terms that they can understand. I am wondering if we should generally look to such conversations as valuable distillations of essential truth, or rather be wary of them as attempts to state simply truths which are not in fact simple. I suppose I am here asking that ancient question posed to our Lord: What is truth? Is it by nature simple or complex?

Peace.     

Acknowledging Our Wretchedness

Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all 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 you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.
~Collect for Ash Wednesday, BCP

I attended the Ash Wednesday liturgy at my church this week.  I make a very conscious effort to live into the Church year, observing the seasonal feasts and fasts, and so I generally look forward to Ash Wednesday.  It's difficult for me to imagine beginning my Lenten journey without this very public and clear inauguration, with its call "to the observance of a holy Lent ... to make a right beginning of repentance..."  And yet it's not an easy service, even for one accustomed to it.  The opening collect of the liturgy doesn't dance around the issue: this is a time of "lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness".  We then read the appointed Old Testament reading from Joel, chapter 2:

Blow a trumpet in Zion, and sound an alarm on my holy mountain!
Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble,
For the day of the LORD is coming; surely it is near.
A day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness ...
"Yet even now," declares the LORD,
"Return to me with all your heart, 
And with fasting, weeping, and mourning;
And rend your heart and not your garments."

Not exactly the way to pack 'em into the pews!  And yet, I do love this liturgy.  It is honest, and it helps me to live more honestly.  It does not tell me what I want to hear, but rather what I know to be true within my own depraved heart and my own weak body.  After the invitation to a holy Lent, the priest prays the following over the ashes to be imposed:

Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the earth: Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our mortality and penitence, that we may remember that it is only by your gracious gift that we are given everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.

On Ash Wednesday, and throughout Lent, the Church is called to remember that it is only through Christ that we are raised to life in glory.  By ourselves, we are truly wretched, and without hope.  And even now, we who have been born anew in Christ remain here in this vale of tears.  Though we do experience joy in Christ in this life, we still look ever forward to that place where we "shall know fully, just as (we) have been fully known" and where "there shall no longer be any death; there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away."  But we do well to remember that we are not there yet.

I have always been one to look for the beauty in life,and I do believe it is real and ever present, a gift of God to His children.  But due to some life circumstances in my family over this past year, I have become more personally aware that this is also true of pain.  Pain is real, and deep, and ever present in the world.  It touches every human in ways that are often difficult to comprehend, and sometimes there is no healing, at least not in full.  No one is exempt; pain and suffering are as inevitable as death itself.  Christians are not being helpful if we refuse to acknowledge this reality.  (A case in point: K-LOVE Christian radio.  God bless them for the good they do, but honestly I just can only take so much of "the positive alternative".  And it's precisely because it is all positive, all the time; I find that lack of proportion unreal, even (unintentionally) dishonest.  "God is so good and Jesus loves you, so turn that frown upside-down!  No more pain, confusion, or sorrow!"  I'm sorry, but that is not real life, even for the Christian.)  But on Ash Wednesday, the Church does acknowledge this reality.  We acknowledge our sin and failure, our frailty and brokenness; we acknowledge our mortality.

Sorrows are inevitable, but the Christian can embrace suffering, knowing that Christ Jesus has already embraced all sorrow and suffering, even unto death.  In this, we draw near to Him and He draws near to us. And even in Lent we live in joyful hope and expectation, looking forward to Easter morning in forty days, itself but a foretaste of the full joy that awaits us on the Eighth Day, when all will be made new.

But we are not there yet.

Peace, and may you be blessed with a holy Lent.

   

John Donne: On the Wholeness of Christ's Redemptive Work

From a sermon by John Donne:

Only to Christ Jesus, the fulness of time was at his birth; not because he had not also a painful life to pass through, but because the work of our redemption was an entire work, and all that Christ said or did or suffered, concurred to our salvation: as well his mother's swathing him in little clouts as Joseph's shrouding him in a funeral sheet; as well his cold lying in the manger as his cold dying upon the Cross; as well the Unto us a Boy is born as the It is finished:  as well his birth as his death is said to have been the fulness of time.  

Peace, and happy Chistmastide.