Justluckie

More Saints Please

The calendar of commemorations of holy men and women for the Scottish Episcopal Church is a wonderfully diverse list of people from many times, places and traditions. If one is known by the company one keeps, this list probably shows us to be the eclectic bunch that we are. But it does have some gaps and I have a minor ambition to swell the ranks of the saints in our calendar by adding a few more. Why not? I have mentioned a couple of these candidates for inclusion on the pages of this blog before.

One is a relatively uncontroversial one, and he is already commemorated in Anglican calendars elsewhere. I mentioned St Bonaventure recently because of his sigificance as a mystical theologian of enduring appeal. He was a major figure in early Franciscanism and his spiritual writings continue to inspire me. If I may be allowed another medieval Franciscan, I propose Angela of Foligno, a Tertiary, mystic and spiritual guide of extrordinary subtlety and depth. Her feast day is my birthday, so that makes her case even more compelling.

My next candidate is also in some Anglican calendars but not (yet) recognised by his own church. Archbishop Oscar Romero became an outspoken voice of the people of El Salvador in the face of military oppression in the late 1970s. He was converted by the poor to see Christ's preferential option for those who live at the margins of society and was martyred for his stance of solidarity with them.

We would have to move Paul Couturier from 24 March to accomodate Romero on the date of his martyrdom, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Couturier was a major figure in the early days of the ecumenical movement of the 20th century as his inclusion in our calendar give me hope for my next candidate, another major 20th century catholic figure - Thomas Merton. I've written lots about Merton on this blog so you know how highly I regard him as a spiritual teacher and prophetic voice. He did not hide his imperfections and I think this makes him an ideal person for commemoration in our calendar. It makes sense for me if our saints are somewhat like the rest of us - not unreachable heros but ordinary faithful Christians who show us something vital about the life of faith.

My next proposal is unashamedly a Scottish one, but a Scot with international significance (yes, they do exist). John Duns Scotus was also a Francsican and one of the Middle Ages' most original philosophical figures. He was fairly recently beatified in the Roman Catholic Church and his depth of his thinking remains remarkable, even if the categories of his thought might seem a little remote from modern concepts. It seems odd to me that our calendar commemorates some Scottish church figures about whom we know very little while a thinker of Scotus' stature is omitted.

My final proposal is Dorothy Day, whose life and writing were a powerful testimony to the inseparability of Christian prayer and the struggle for justice for the poor. As a founder of the Catholic Worker movement, she was one of the Catholic Church's most prophetic figures of the 20th century and her voice and her prayers are as urgent today as they were during her lifetime.

 

Closed Windows? - Seeing the Past in Southern Finland

I spent some wonderful days at the end of last week in the company of members of our new twin Diocese of Espoo in southern Finland, just to the west of Helsinki. On our first full day there, we were taken to the parish of Kirkkonummi, an area of the diocese which had been used as a naval base by the Soviets in the immediate post-war period. This occupation was brutal, and we could see the scars on the old church. Gravestones had been broken up to use as building material. Local residents were expelled and the church taken over as an officer's mess.  This period is referred to as 'the parenthesis' - a blank time where normal life was driven out.  After the Soviets left in the early '50s, the church was reclaimed and artwork that had been kept safe was reinstated in the church. The interior is stunningly simple and bright, with reminders of the church's medieval past in the setting of a modern church.

During the occupation of this area, trains passing through the area had their windows covered over so that no one could see the Soviet forces. This image of repression and concealment was subversively used for the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland's Communications Congress, which we attended for one of its sessions. In contrast to this brutal obfuscation, the church was now seeking to offer open and creative communication in the modern world, not dwelling on the past and not being introspective, but engaging with life in this modern European state.

This Poor Sort - Anglican Franciscans, Poverty and Growth

Peta Dunstan is a notable historian of Anglican Religious life and, for some years, her history of the European Province of the Society of St Francis has been sitting on my bookshelves waiting to be read. I have at last got round to reading This Poor Sort and would recommend it as a careful and judicious piece of history writing. Her account of the birth and growth of SSF pays close attention to the movement's social context and this is vital, as the earliest days of the nascent order were focussed on the provision of help to men who had no fixed abode and relied on the meagre provisions of the casual wards. The work of Br Douglas and his early companions was first of all compassionate, but that compassion also led to political action to address the inadequate provision for homeless men. This political action was not naive and recognised the deeper underlying issues of poverty and worklessness.

So the origins of one of the Anglican church's most prominent religious communities was not a pious attempt to recreate a medieval religious order, but a genuine response to poverty inspired by the witness of St Francis. The later leaders of the movement established a more deliberate focus on the needs of the community life of SSF, ensuring a firm bedrock of prayer, but the order's missionary focus has never been lost. I was greatly privileged to work with SSF in the parishes where I was parish priest in Glasgow in the late '90s. The work of the small house in Barrowfield in the city's East End was impressive in its humble simplicity. The brothers lived in one of the most deprived housing estates in the city and offered a simple ministry of presence, listening, encouragement and committed involvement in a community that bore the brunt of post-industrial decline. Whether playing cards with unemployed young men or attending the management committee of a community project, the brothers exhibited the same prophetic compassion as their order's founders.

It strikes me that the church's wellbeing resides in no small part in its willingness to understand and identify with poverty and those who are poor. This is an evangelical imperative and I've suggested before that it ought to be there in the creed as one of the marks of the true church!

One of the other interesting insights of Dunstan's book is the slow growth of the order. For the first two or three decades of its life, the order grew very little in its numbers. Founded in the 1930s from three predecessor orders, the Society of St Francis did not really experience significant growth in its numbers until the 1960s. I suspect that this was due, in part, to the time needed to establish a single order out of the differing emphases of its constituent parts - not a smooth process - but it is interesting to me that this trajectory does not fit the common assumptions of numerical growth in the wider church. One might have expected to see more growth in these earlier decades followed by a decline as the radical '60s unfolded. It may not be wise to make too simple a comparison between the growth of a religious order and that of the wider church, but I think the contrast is interesting nonetheless. It suggests to me that growth and decline are much more complex phenomena than many suggest.

The story of SSF gives me hope for our Anglican way of being Christian. It shows that the vitality and faithfulness of the church is not restricted to one dimension of its life (eg parishes) and, more importantly, stands as a witness to the essential place of simplicity, poverty and joy in the life of faith.

 

 

The Ethics of Church History

One of the many insights of Diarmaid MacCulloch's Gifford Lecture series on silence in Christian History, now released as a book, is that there is a profoundly ethical dimension to the careful and truthful telling of church history. His approach to silence is to see the theme in its variety of positive and negative forms. Those who are used to reading this blog will know that I have a particular fondness for telling the positive story of Christian silence insofar as it relates to under-appreciated mystical dimension of the faith, with its origins in the teachings of such early exponents as the Desert monastics, Pseudo-Dionysius and the author of the Cloud of Unknowing, and such modern champions as Thomas Merton, Bede Griffiths and William Johnston.

But it is the negative story where the question of ethics comes most into focus. Other forms of Christian silence have include the (not always complete and occasionally brutal) repression of heterodox ideas and, most significantly for contemporary Christianity, in the denial and obfuscation surrounding abuse. As well as the sexual abuse of children, MacCulloch reminds the churches of their enormous success in finding arguments to approve of the continuation of slavery and of their undeniable role in the formation and perpetuation of anti-semitic ideologies. The ethical task of the historian is the fearless identification of the causes and practice of such abuses, the analysis of the apparatus used to cover them up and the exercise of careful moral judgement in condemning wrongdoing. On that latter point, it is too easy for historians to excuse past behaviour with the qualification that it was 'reasonable by the standards of the time'. MacCulloch does the church a great service in not letting it use such a lazy way out. He points out that those who discovered some of the earliest recorded clerical abuse of children in the 17th century were fully aware of its evil. It is also important to remind ourselves that the acquiescence of a silent majority does not render moral judgement redundant. Evil is evil, even when the majority are too fearful to name it as such.

There is, I think, a relationship between MacCulloch's positive silences and the historian's task of 'demanding the constant rupture of silences around abuse'. The Christian mystical tradition places a significant emphasis on unflinching self-awareness, on tearful penitence and on inner transformation. With this in mind, the careful telling of the church's history strikes me as a deeply spiritual task as well as its most essential ethical one.

 

Choral Evensong - A Great and Precious Thing

For the second time in my life, I have the privilege of working in a church which prays the office of Evening Prayer each day through the medium of choral singing. I put it in that slightly convoluted way to make the point that this is the daily prayer of the church which takes many forms, one of which is Choral Evensong. Clergy are obliged to pray the daily offices and, for most parish clergy, this is most likely to be a solitary activity. This discipline is one of the significant, if little known, continuities that the Anglican church preserved after the Reformation. The daily recitation of the Psalms, which forms the heart of the offices, nourishes a spirituality that is earthed, prayerful, penitential, thankful and reflective. So it is highly desireable that this nourishment is made available to as many people as possible. It is a nourishment that yields most benefit when it is part of a regular discipline and there is something powerful about the steady pulse of daily, weekly, seasonal prayer that the Offices instill.

In the Anglican choral tradition, the Offices are recited through the medium of song. For those not used to this style of worship, it can feel at first like something of a spectator sport, as most of the Office is sung by the clergy and choir. However, many find that praying regularly in this way encourages a deep listening, an inner quiet and a liberating engagement of the senses. For much of the Church's history, prayer has been sung and the notion of 'saying' prayers, at least in public, was a strange one. There are still many Orthodox, Lutheran and Anglican churches whose public prayer is mostly conducted in song. It is odd that some people find it perfectly reasonable for a cleric to say a prayer on their behalf but cannot understand the notion that a choir might be able to do the same thing through song. I suspect this may be a result of the relatively recent cultural phenomenon of the passive audience and of listening to recorded music. We often think of music as something we 'see' - a spectacle - so it can be difficult to readjust to listening as an act of prayer. One of the ways that Anglicans have of participating in this choral prayer is with bodily gesture and posture: standing for canticles, making the sign of the cross, bowing at the Gloria Patri, facing east at the creed.

Of course, many people enjoy Choral Evensong as a cultural phenomenon, a wonderful opportunity to hear choral music sung by professional musicans 'for free' at any Cathedral (or college chapel if you happen to live in Oxford or Cambridge) near you. Indeed, when I was working at King's College in Cambridge, one of our students wrote a handbook for anthropologists coming back from field study and recommended Choral Evensong as a good way to find a place of peace, reflection and reintegration. I don't underestimate the power of choral prayer to offer all of these things and I believe that an experience of beauty and peace is a Godly thing. I don't quite understand people who say to me that they will come to Evensong for a 'cultural' rather than a 'religious' experience. Experience is experience, however you choose to describe it, and the presence of God will be mediated through this act of loving attention and gratitude that we call prayer.

So now for the plug. If you are in Edinburgh, the only place you will find Evensong being sung on a weekday evening is St Mary's Episcopal Cathedral. You will be most welcome and I hope you will find peace and beauty, whatever your motivation for coming to listen to this good and Godly music.

 

Repositioning the Church - Time to get Radical!

In the long, slow labour of love that is my readathon through Thomas Merton's journals, I recently came across a fascinating proposal that he considered for a new monastic foundation in Latin America. Merton's interest in the southern parts of the Americas was kindled in the late '50s, not least through his acquaintance with his former novice, the liberation theologian Ernesto Cardenal. Cardenal's volumes of readings of the gospel by poor Christians of Nicaragua made a huge impact on me. But back to Merton, whose vision for a new monastery, which never came to fruition, was striking.

He proposed a very anonymous foundation, with no distinctive dress of buildings, no programme or ambition. It would focus on solitude, humanity, simplicity, poverty and, most interestingly, engagement with current culture and politics. He insisted that the point was not for those who would be the members of that community to 'be monks' but for them to be human - children of God.

I have no doubt that the Church is at one of those points in its history where it must focus on such essential things and be, as Pope Francis said, a poor church for the poor. It does not serve the Gospel well for the church to be hungry for temporal power and unexamined privilege, nor for it to direct so much of its energy inwards, simply seeking functional, organisational rectitude. Indeed, Merton's suggestion that his monastery should renounce any ambitious programme is interesting in this regard. Rather than focussing on its activity, if the church was to focus instead on its true character it may find itself in a better place. This is not to propose any kind of quietism, but to suggest that we need to reconnect with our roots in order that our actions may be truthful. And what are these roots?

• The church is there to seek God.
• It is called to a life of prayer.
• It supports disciplined lives of spiritual growth and humble service.
• It recognises God's preferential option for the poor.
• It knows no monopoly of truth - that belongs to God alone - and it is open in dialogue with others of goodwill in order to learn and understand.
• It values both solitude and engagement.
• It is fearless in confronting the roots of violence.
• Its leaders are servants, not monarchs.
• It is not afraid to talk of renunciation - of power, status, wealth, respectability - and to embrace such poverty.
• It loves beauty and nurtures creativity.
• It is connected with the earth.

 To paraphrase Merton's invitation, those who are members of the church are not called to 'be Christians', as if that were some disctinct kind of being, but to be human - children of God.

I was thinking of inviting others to contribute to this little list, but I think it would be more appropriate to invite you to propose simplifications! In any case, I hope that there are others who share my frustration with a church that is more preoccupied with its status than with the Gospel and who might wonder what we can do about that. People, often rightly, see the church as disconnected, obsessed with sex and self-interested. It is for those of us in the church to seek to ensure that it is true to its calling to be utterly connected, turned towards God and radically open to others.

 

Pontifex Maximus - a very short wish list

As an Anglican priest in the Catholic tradition of our church, I feel a very keen interest in the election of a new Pope. He is uniquely placed to represent that Catholic tradition of our Christian faith to the world and the way he does that has an immense impact even on those of us who do not come under his authority. If I were to write a wish list for the new Pope, I would make it a very short one, because I know that he will have a lot his plate (!) and will have more people than he needs to tell him what they think he should do.

My list, in fact, only contains one item, but it is an item that would have an incalculable impact on everything else that he does or decides. Here is the list, which I offer with all respect:

1. Be Pontifex Maximus.

Be the greatest bridge-builder between the church and the rest of the world. Be one who fearlessly enters every single corner of the public realm and dares to take that most Christian of stances, the stance of one who listens.

Be the greatest builder of bridges for those who feel hurt and betrayed by the church and encourage each one of us to do all it takes to make us the merciful, forgiven sinners that we are.

Be a daring bridge builder for those who cry out for spiritual wisdom and never thought they would find it in a Christian church.

Let your strength and authority be that of a sturdy pier holding up a bridge spanning the gulf between those who might otherwise remain separated. Connect.

May the greatest of all your bridges be the bridge of prayer, joining heaven and earth, channeling hopes and fears, longing and compassion.

And may the one true Bridge, the Mediator between God and Humanity, bless you.

The Church: Power, Abuse, Renewal

I hesitate to write much about the Church, because I really don't think I have anything sensible to add to what others say more eloquently. Some of the most thoughtful comments on these problems from a Roman Catholic perspective can be found in Sr Catherine Wybourne's blog, ibenedictines. I make only a couple of observations in the hope that others will add their thoughts and prayers:

• It seems to me that, whenever the Church has, in the past, found itself unable to handle its power well, it has found movements of renewal arising from within it and around its edges. Many of these movements have been mystical, focussed on the inner life and wary of the trappings of ecclesiastical power. I think of the desert Fathers and Mothers, the Franciscans and the Quakers. Many of these same movements have also focussed on works of kindness and justice, and it seems to me that the two belong so intimately together that it is misleading to separate them. Of course, other such movements have not been primarily motivated by the Church's inadequate relationship with the power it weilds and have arisen in response to other needs or promptings of the Spirit. Nonetheless, it seems to me that deep and penitential self-awareness does lead to renewal and this is as true of groups of people as it is of individuals. I pray that the Church's current travails will find such a response.
• I fully understand why individual Christians choose to leave the Church when they are faced with its capacity for hypocrisy and failure and sometimes I think that choice is the only honest one to make. I also feel that it is essential for others to stay with the Church in order to bear witness to its essential purposes of healing, reconciliation and prayer. Those of us who stay do well to pay heed to those who leave - they have something very important to say.
• The Church will always have issues with power because it is dealing with powerful stuff. However, it only ever becomes what it is called to be when it is humble. If I was allowed to add one word to the creed, it would be that - One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic and Humble. The New Testament makes it abundantly clear that the 'mind' of the Church should be that of Jesus himself, who humbled himself unto death. In other words, its very consciousness must bear the character of the Jesus who 'emptied himself of all but love'. The prophetic ministry of the L'Arche communties speaks most powerfully to us at this time.
• The Church is not perfect, but it can be a model of how to live with imperfection.
• The symbols of the Church's power are potent, but they are most potent when they are shown to be fragile and inadequate to speak of the greater power to which they must point. The Church would also do well to consider how it uses its equally potent symbols of powerlessness.
• It may be time to be more serious about recovering our sense of that most challenging Evangelical Counsel - Poverty.
• The Church ceases to take its apostolicity seriously when it turns inwards. The Church does not exist for itself.

I realise that these thoughts are not 'practical' solutions to any of the Church's current problems, but I think that any practical solutions should take these principles seriously.

The Church: Power, Abuse, Renewal

I hesitate to write much about the Church, because I really don't think I have anything sensible to add to what others say more eloquently. Some of the most thoughtful comments on these problems from a Roman Catholic perspective can be found in Sr Catherine Wybourne's blog, ibenedictines. I make only a couple of observations in the hope that others will add their thoughts and prayers:

• It seems to me that, whenever the Church has, in the past, found itself unable to handle its power well, it has found movements of renewal arising from within it and around its edges. Many of these movements have been mystical, focussed on the inner life and wary of the trappings of ecclesiastical power. I think of the desert Fathers and Mothers, the Franciscans and the Quakers. Many of these same movements have also focussed on works of kindness and justice, and it seems to me that the two belong so intimately together that it is misleading to separate them. Of course, other such movements have not been primarily motivated by the Church's inadequate relationship with the power it weilds and have arisen in response to other needs or promptings of the Spirit. Nonetheless, it seems to me that deep and penitential self-awareness does lead to renewal and this is as true of groups of people as it is of individuals. I pray that the Church's current travails will find such a response.
• I fully understand why individual Christians choose to leave the Church when they are faced with its capacity for hypocrisy and failure and sometimes I think that choice is the only honest one to make. I also feel that it is essential for others to stay with the Church in order to bear witness to its essential purposes of healing, reconciliation and prayer. Those of us who stay do well to pay heed to those who leave - they have something very important to say.
• The Church will always have issues with power because it is dealing with powerful stuff. However, it only ever becomes what it is called to be when it is humble. If I was allowed to add one word to the creed, it would be that - One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic and Humble. The New Testament makes it abundantly clear that the 'mind' of the Church should be that of Jesus himself, who humbled himself unto death. In other words, its very consciousness must bear the character of the Jesus who 'emptied himself of all but love'. The prophetic ministry of the L'Arche communties speaks most powerfully to us at this time.
• The Church is not perfect, but it can be a model of how to live with imperfection.
• The symbols of the Church's power are potent, but they are most potent when they are shown to be fragile and inadequate to speak of the greater power to which they must point. The Church would also do well to consider how it uses its equally potent symbols of powerlessness.
• It may be time to be more serious about recovering our sense of that most challenging Evangelical Counsel - Poverty.
• The Church ceases to take its apostolicity seriously when it turns inwards. The Church does not exist for itself.

I realise that these thoughts are not 'practical' solutions to any of the Church's current problems, but I think that any practical solutions should take these principles seriously.