R and I spent the weekend in our "home-away-from-home," as I was supplying at a church nearer there than our house. That gave me the chance to finish a couple of books that had been hanging about for a while. One was a book on Mount Athos by Christopher Merrill, and the other a popular choice of Advent book groups, the latest Borg and Crossan book on the first Christmas (as they envision it).
Given that Borg and Crossan do not believe that any of the events described by Matthew and Luke actually happened, except that a baby named Jesus was born, it is remarkable how much attention they give to the biblical narrative. They take great pains to show parallels with other first-century birth narratives, especially those of Caesar Augustus. Their thesis is that the early Christian community made Jesus appear divine ("christened as Son of God by the community that grew up around him") in order to counteract the supposed divinity of Augustus and oppose the imperial power.
It's all very nice and rational and 21st century, but who would die for a faith like that? The Daily Office readings from Hebrews 11 present a very different view of faith as "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen," in its long list of biblical heroes of faith. "Time would fail me to tell" of all of them, the author says. Yet he tries mightily, and then comes to that wonderful climax: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses...let us run with perseverence the race that is set before us." That's a powerful call to action, and Borg and Crossan seem tepid in comparison.
Merrill's book on the spiritual center of Eastern Orthodoxy is anything but tepid. Before it was loaned to me by R's rector, I had not realized that non-Orthodox were even allowed on the Holy Mountain. Merrill, an Episcopalian, is clearly regarded as a heretic by some of the monks he encounters. Yet he also finds the type of monastics I know from New Melleray Abbey: deeply rooted in prayer, they are so aware of their own failings that they can be gentle with others. Like Merrill, I feel a pull toward the monastic life, and there were times in the past when R wondered if I would return from retreats at the abbey. But I have already taken vows before God, including the vow of matrimony. Since Vatican II the Roman Church has acknowledged that the monastic charism can be found in people who live in the world, and now actively supports contact between monks and "seculars." The Orthodox knew that all along. Perhaps that is why I find them so appealing.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
I've felt the pull of monastic life, too, and have thought often about how a church could be like a monastery and how it can't. Or how a priest can be a contemplative, and how she can't.
When I was on the Iowa COM over ten years ago, someone remarked that contemplatives should not become priests because it would ruin their contemplation. That may be true for priests in very large parishes. But I do believe that the church needs clergy attempting to live a contemplative life in the world, particularly because such a life is so counter-cultural.
A joyous Epiphany to you, Heidi, and to all others who read this today!
Let's just say that I am very glad that you are not a monk!
[Edit: I wrote a different version of this reply earlier today, posted it, and have had second thoughts all day. Deciding it was needlessly inflammatory, I have deleted it and replaced it with the following slighty-toned-down version.]
The church needs lay people who seek to live a contemplative life, as well, and for the same reason.
Hearing teachings such as those of Borg and Crossan sometimes shakes my faith. They are educated folk, scholars. Their work is widely admired in TEC and other mainline circles. I am just a poor ignorant layman. I do not read Greek; I know not so much as a word of Aramaic; my knowledge of early church history is small. It is hard for me to answer them. Maybe the whole business IS a “cunningly devised fable” after all (II Pet. 1:16). Maybe Jesus was, as they say, just an itinerant preacher whom the early church communities “divinized.” Maybe his bones are still rotting in the ground somewhere. Maybe his father was a Roman soldier, as (I think) the Rt. Rev'd Spong posits. Maybe there is no “great cloud of witnesses,” because their bones and ashes are all rotting in the ground, too. Maybe all there is is the visible “community” that seems to dominate the thought of the liberals.
If all that is true, why should I bother with it? I don't see enough evidence of “community” in our parish, diocese, or TEC to warrant taking it seriously, if there is no more than what is visible.
C.S. Lewis, in his paper “Modern Theology and Biblical Criticism,” wrote “A theology which denies the historicity of nearly everything in the Gospels to which Christian life and affections and thought have been fastened for nearly two millennia. . . . if offered to the uneducated man can produce only one or other of two effects. It will make him a Roman Catholic or an atheist.”
Towards the end of the paper, he adds: “Missionary to the priests of one's own church is an embarrassing rôle; though I have a horrid feeling that if such mission work is not soon undertaken the future history of the Church of England is likely to be short.”
Post a Comment