Saturday, 6 February 2016

"But He is a Physician ..."

The eyes of the Lord are over the righteous: and his ears are open unto their prayers. 

Ps. 34:15.  Ps. 34 is appointed to be said or sung at Evensong on the 6th day of the month in the BCP 1662.

Only do thou hold fast His ways, and when you are in tribulation, He hears you. But He is a Physician, and still have you something of putrefaction; you cry out, but still He cuts, and takes not away His Hand, until He has cut as much as pleases Him. For that Physician is cruel who hears a man, and spares his wound and putrefaction. How do mothers rub their children in the baths for their health. Do not the little ones cry out in their hands? Are they then cruel because they spare not, nor hearken unto their tears? Are they not full of affection? And yet the children cry out, and are not spared. So our God also is full of charity, but therefore seems He not to hear, that He may spare and heal us for everlasting.

Augustine on Ps. 34:15.

Friday, 5 February 2016

David's story: grace and glory

At the Holy Eucharist on the Friday on the second week before Lent.

Sirach 47:2-11 - Ps.18:31-33, 50-51 - Mark 6:14-29

"The Lord took away his sins, and exalted his power for ever, he gave him a covenant of kingship and a glorious throne in Israel" [1].

And so the book of Sirach - today's Old Testament reading - brings to a close the story of David which we have heard in our readings at the daily eucharist over the past few weeks.

Now, we might just be wondering if Sirach has been reading the same story we have heard.

He heaps praise on David - "set apart from the Israelites ... In all that he did he gave thanks to the Holy One".

And yet, the story we have read of David over recent weeks appears to have been quite different.

We have been confronted with David's sins.

We have heard David confess:

"I have sinned greatly in what I have done" [2].

And yet all of this is summarised in a mere few words by Sirach:

"the Lord took away his sins".

What seems to be the story of David - a story of failure, of a life disoriented and irretrievably scarred by sin - is not what Sirach sees.

He sees as a radically different story.

Sirach sees in David a story of grace and glory.

"The Lord took away his sins, and exalted his power for ever, he gave him a covenant of kingship and a glorious throne in Israel."

Sirach is echoing the Great Story told in Israel's scriptures and in the New Testament.

For the prophets of Israel, David foreshadowed the king who would come to establish the reign of God.

When Isaiah glimpses a vision of this reign, he describes it as one of "endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom".

And the New Testament closes in the Revelation of John with the ascended and glorified Jesus declaring, "I am the root and descendant of David".

Sirach saw rightly - David's story is one of grace and glory.

David's sins - so vividly portrayed in the history of Israel's kings - are not the story. 

His sins merely show that it is this world, that it is people just like us - flawed, failing, disoriented - whom God incorporates into the Great Story of grace and glory.

Our sins do not get to write the Story.

By the grace of God, they are written into the Story - from that first sin of Adam and Eve in the Garden - but they do not shape and determine it.

For they are met by grace and forgiveness.

They become the background to the awe and wonder, the beauty and joy of the Paschal Mystery, the cross and resurrection of Jesus.

Today is the Friday before Lent.

Just over seven weeks from now, as the church gathers in the darkness of Easter Eve, we will hear the ancient words of the hymn of praise called the Exsultet:

"This is the night that gave us back what we had lost:
beyond our deepest dreams
you even made our sin a happy fault" [3].

The grace of God in the Crucified and Risen One makes our sin "a happy fault" ...

The occasion of love, mercy and peace poured out to heal, save, renew.

As so as we prepare for the Lenten fast and the celebration of the Easter mysteries ...

We are reminded by Sirach's account of David, that our sins do not get to write the stories of our lives ...

For through baptism and eucharist, we are incorporated into God's Story of grace and glory.

In the weeks that now lie before us, let us enter afresh into this grace and glory.

-------------------

[1] Sirach 47:11.

[2] From the OT reading at the Eucharist on Wednesday of this week - 2 Samuel 24:10.

[3] From the text used in Common Worship: Times and Seasons.

Thursday, 4 February 2016

Facing Mamre: old churches, thin places

The OT reading at Matins today in the CofI lectionary was Genesis 23, the account of Sarah's burial.  Quite striking is Abraham's desire for a specific place for Sarah's burial:

... hear me, and entreat for me Ephron son of Zohar, so that he may give me the cave of Machpelah, which he owns; it is at the end of his field. For the full price let him give it to me in your presence as a possession for a burying-place.

Why this location?  The conclusion of the chapter is suggestive:

Abraham buried Sarah his wife in the cave of the field of Machpelah facing Mamre (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan.

Abraham buried Sarah "facing Mamre", the place of encounter.  What is more, mindful of Paul's comparison between Abraham's faith in the promise of Mamre and faith in the resurrection of Jesus - "those who share the faith of Abraham" in the God "who gives life to the dead" (Romans 4:16-25) - Mamre was also the place of resurrection.

Mamre was for Abraham a 'thin place'.  The reading brings to mind two recent reflections on ancient churches and the gift of place.  Michael Sadgrove, Dean Emeritus of Durham, points to a recent experience of worship in Haydon Old Church in Northumberland:

I believe Haydon Old Church is one of those 'thin places' that increasingly draws pilgrims in search of spiritual meaning and sense of direction. It responds to Larkin's 'hunger to be more serious.' It isn't famous like Cuthbert's Holy Island, or mighty Durham Cathedral, or the Saxon church at Escomb, or Bede's historic churches at Wearmouth and Jarrow, or Wilfred's marvellous crypt half a dozen miles downstream at Hexham Abbey. But what it shares with all these sites is its profoundly numinous quality. Here you feel you are on holy ground. In its loneliness and simplicity, it takes you on a journey both beyond yourself, and at the same time more deeply into yourself, so that you begin to see reality in new ways, and glimpse God.

And here's where it has the potential to offer so much to our spiritually impoverished century. Holding services regularly is important, but it's just the beginning. A church like this holds so many possibilities for welcoming visitors to this lovely part of Northumberland, for heritage and arts activities, and above all, for promoting reflectiveness and spirituality through pilgrimages and opportunities for guided prayer and meditation. These are stones that speak of history, of the varying fortunes of a village community over a thousand years and more. This by itself is endlessly fascinating to anyone with a sense of place. But more important even than this, they speak of faith: the faith of those who first planted Christianity in this Northumbrian soil; the faith of those who watered it and kept it alive across the centuries; the faith of their successors today who like them live by hope in the Word made Flesh, Christ crucified and risen.

Niall Gooch has also addressed the significance of the "ancient church building":

... they act as a powerful reminder that Christianity is an ancient faith that draws on powerful springs, what CS Lewis allegorises in the Narnia books as the “deeper magic from before the dawn of time” ... To occupy the same space in which people far distant from us in time and language and experience have heard the same prayers, the same chants, the same hymns is a way of placing ourselves back into the great tradition.

Gooch concludes by drawing attention to the most recent figures on those visiting churches in England:

People seem to be drawn to God-haunted places ... Although attendance at Christian services is in decline—the number of regular Anglican worshippers, for example, has apparently fallen below a million for the first time, from a peak of more than 3.5 million c.1930—cathedrals still draw large numbers of visitors, as noted above (C of E figures state that nearly 10 million people visit cathedrals each year).

In a culture characterised by what the Dean of Southwark has termed "a strange secularism" - in which the public truth of secularism coexists with "a latent, often hidden, often denied spirituality deep in the hearts of so many" - church buildings, if used imaginatively and intentionally, can be a means of offering a connection between this latent spirituality and the Church's faith.  Places of deep quiet, of beauty, of 'thinness', places where prayer is natural and accepted, where stillness is (or should be) tangible - such a place can be the arena in which "a strange secularism" becomes porous, open to the transcendent.

Of course, this requires us to abandon the notion that church buildings are obstacles to evangelisation, that 'maintenance' is somehow opposed to 'mission', that the strangeness of the church building - so different to the leisure centre or the open plan office - needs to be done away with.  It is the very strangeness of these "God-haunted places" - these places of encounter and resurrection - which set them apart in the midst of the flattened, disenchanted culture of postmodernity.

We need to be like Abraham, facing Mamre, discerning the power of the thin places.

(The painting is Robert Littleford, 'Oldham Parish Church and beyond'.)

Wednesday, 3 February 2016

"Experience is the best learning"

Reading Jeremy Taylor's sermon 'The Way of Understanding', this extract brought to mind Coakley's thesis on the 'incorporative model' of praying the Trinity.  It has a a quite powerful contemporary resonance - to know the Triune God, we must encounter the Triune God in and through prayer.  To know Christian faith is to pray, worship, fast, share in the sacraments, hear the scriptures read - to taste and see. "Experience is the best learning."

... this man best understands the secret and undiscernable economy, he feels this unintelligible mystery, and sees with his heart what his tongue can never express, and his metaphysics can never prove.  In these cases faith and love are the best knowledge, and Jesus Christ is best known by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ; and if the kingdom of God be in us, then we know God, and are known of him; and when we communicate of the Spirit of God, when we pray for him, and have received him, and entertained him, and dwelt with him, and warmed ourselves by his holy fires, then we know him too: but there is no other satisfactory knowledge of the blessed Trinity but this: and, therefore, whatever thing is spoken of God metaphysically, there is no knowing of God theologically, as he ought to be known, but by the measures of holiness, and the proper light of the Spirit of God.

But in this case experience is the best learning, and Christianity is the best institution, and the Spirit of God is the best teacher.



Tuesday, 2 February 2016

"The fulness of grace flowed": Thomas on the Presentation

Objection 1. It would seem that it was unfitting for the Mother of God to go to the Temple to be purified ...

I answer that, As the fulness of grace flowed from Christ on to His Mother, so it was becoming that the mother should be like her Son in humility: for "God giveth grace to the humble," as is written James 4:6. And therefore, just as Christ, though not subject to the Law, wished, nevertheless, to submit to circumcision and the other burdens of the Law, in order to give an example of humility and obedience; and in order to show His approval of the Law ... for the same reasons He wished His Mother also to fulfil the prescriptions of the Law, to which, nevertheless, she was not subject. 

Thomas Summa Theologica III.37.4

(The mosaic of the Presentation is dated 1296, Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome.)

Monday, 1 February 2016

Waiting for another - doubtless very different - Ductor dubitantium

From Covenant, an insightful call by Elisabeth Rain Kincaid to retrieve the Anglican tradition of casuistry. Referring to the popularity of 'advice columnists', she suggests that such secular causistry should lead to the Church recovering this practice:

An important feature of advice columns appears to be their continuity. Rather than the writer providing “one off” or occasional references and advice, she or he refers back to an established corpus of other decisions, reasoning analogically to provide the correct answer to the case presented by a particular advice-seeker. The quantity and continuity of these cases helps to establish the authority of the columnist. Clearly, despite the disappearance of casuistry as a religious practice, the attraction of casuistic, situation-based ethical reasoning, along with the desire to have an outside source provide a well-reasoned answer based on some body of knowledge, has not gone away.

The question is why such a service is not being provided in the Church? What would it look like for Anglicans to regain our heritage of casuistry? Is there a need in parishes (or at a higher level) for this type of rational and analogical resolution to cases of conscience? Additionally, in a time when our church appears split over moral issues and questions of conscience, would regaining a practice of casuistry provide a unifying force that our ecclesiastical commitments at the current moment seem unable to provide?

It seems fitting to turn to Jeremy Taylor at this point, mindful of his Ductor Dubitantium (1660).  In his Rules and Advices to the Clergy of the Diocese of Down and Connor, Taylor made an explicit reference to the need for parish priests to study casuistry - 'cases of conscience':

that every Minister study the ancient Canons of the Church, especially the Penitentials of the Eastern and Western Churches: let him read good Books, such as are approved by publick authority; such which are useful, wise and holy; not the scriblings of unlearned parties, but of men learned, pious, obedient and disinterested; and amongst these, such especially which describe duty and good life, which minister to Faith and Charity, to Piety and Devotion; Cases of Conscience, and solid expositions of Scripture. Concerning which learned and wise persons are to be consulted.

As to the context in which this might be applied, Taylor's Rules and Advices envisage routine and regular practice of spiritual direction and sacramental confession:

Let every Minister exhort his people to a frequent confession of their sins, and a declaration of the state of their Souls; to a conversation with their Minister in spiritual things, to an enquiry concerning all the parts of their duty: for by preaching, and catechising, and private entercourse, all the needs of Souls can best be serv'd; but by preaching alone they cannot.

This, of course, reflects the BCP Exhortation for preparing to receive the Eucharist, in which sacramental confession ("the benefit of absolution") is recommended alongside the "ghostly counsel and advice" shaped by the study of casuistry:

And because it is requisite, that no man should come to the holy Communion, but with a full trust in God's mercy, and with a quiet conscience; therefore if there be any of you, who by this means cannot quiet his own conscience herein, but requireth further comfort or counsel, let him come to me, or to some other discreet and learned Minister of God's Word, and open his grief; that by the ministry of God's holy Word he may receive the benefit of absolution, together with ghostly counsel and advice, to the quieting of his conscience, and avoiding of all scruple and doubtfulness.

Now, no, this is not a proposal for some well-meaning Anglican benefactor to distribute Ductor Dubitantium to parish priests.  It is, however, to suggest that the idea of retrieving that rich tradition of casuistry, and the ministry of "ghostly counsel and advice" in which is its applied to individual lives, could be a means of renewing both Anglican moral theology and the practice of seeking to inform individual consciences in light of this. 

To end on a perhaps slightly provocative note, it is interesting that John Milbank hinted at such a retrieval of casuistry in a 2012 article.  What would a renewed Anglican tradition of causistry look like in the context of the Communion's culture wars over human sexuality?  Milbank suggested:

Issues of acceptable modes of physical encounter (as in the case of heterosexual couples also) should surely be left to individuals and their confessors.

Is it here, in the context of ghostly counsel shaped by casuistry, rather than in pulpits and press releases, that the Anglican tradition should be seeking to address individual consciences and their circumstances on the complexities, nuances, challenges and gift of human sexuality?

Saturday, 30 January 2016

"All these are means of binding up fractures"

He healeth those that are broken in heart : and giveth medicine to heal their sickness.

Ps. 147:3.  Ps. 147 is appointed to be said or sung at Evensong on the 30th day of the month in the BCP 1662.

What are these means whereby He binds? The sacraments of this present life, whereby in the mean time we obtain our comfort: and all the words we speak to you, words which sound and pass away, all that is done in the Church in this present time, are the means whereby He binds up our bruises. For just as, when the limb has become perfectly sound, the physician takes off the bandage; so in our own city Jerusalem, when we shall have been made equal to the Angels, think ye that we shall receive there, what we have received here? Will it be needful then that the Gospel be read to us, that our faith may abide? Or that hands be laid upon us by any Bishop? All these are means of binding up fractures; when we have attained perfect soundness, they will be taken off; but we should never attain it, if they were not bound up.

Augustine on Ps. 147:3