Those of you who also read along at Hour Of Scampering already know that for the past month I’ve been comitted to the 2011 NaNoWriMo. The challenge is to write a 50 thousand word piece of fiction. I vassilated about whether or not I would participate when I first discovered it. Which meant that when I jumped in, I was six days behind everyone else. I had to pump out over 8000 words AND meet the daily target.

You might think I’d be nuts to do this. And of course you are right. However, I had a mission, a point to prove (more to myself because no one would ever see my story). It was a real challenge, and a daunting one at first. I did think that I could not possibly catch up, then not suffer from burnout. I did catch up (by day 8 – a good day, a holy day ) and to my surprise I did not suffer burn out.

Burn out is an issue with any project – and of course in the context of one’s spiritual discipline, and practice it can be a real killer; especially in our Indie (OC IC ISM) context where sometimes the challenges of being Independent Catholic can be overwhelming.

How did I avoid burn out participating in NaNoWriMo? I think a key feature is that it is a time limited activity. I only had 30 days to finish the text (24 in my case). You might think that there can be no practical time limitation for spiritual discipline. We do however, have one; a very reliable, consistant one – the liturgical cycle. The cycle of feasts, fasts, and festivals provides any number of select time units that can be used to good effect for spiritual discipline. Consider the effect of Lent as just one example.

During Lent we refrain from eating certain foods, we are perhaps more conscious of prayer and liturgical worship, we are more conscientious about our activity in the community through acts of charity. During Lent we cram a great deal into this experience we call the spiritual life, spiritual discipline. It is a wonder that so many more believers don’t burn out during the month.

This is a nice lead in to the next point about not giving up during NaNoWriMo. My daily activity (my praxis if you will) was structured – it had distinct manageable units. Each day the goal was just under 2000 words. That sounds like a real challenge, but you would be surprised how much you can write in a few focused 20 minute stints. Trying to do it all, and trying to do it all at once, certainly would have resulted in burn out. Managing to break it down into reasonable, thoughtful segments that progressively add to the whole made visualising the goal of 50 thousand words less daunting, more possible.

These two things – along with a few new good habits, and reviving a few old good habits – made achieving 50 thousand words possible. But it also leaves me looking forward to participating again next time. And it leaves open the possibility of participating in other such programs with a different focus – weaving, drawing, or even exercise related. In essence a good practice, a good discipline does not exhaust you. It leaves you at the end of the journey looking forward to the next project, the next challenge. You want more, not less (or none at all as might be the case for burn out).

When you enlightened all things at the time of your manifestation, the sea of unbelief ebbed away and the Jordan reversed its course, flowing uphill and carrying us to Paradise.

The feast of the Theophany is not just our celebration of the revelation of the Trinity, it is also a celebration of our initiation into the Christian mystery. Through our baptism we become living icons of the Logos, and being “properly called Christs” turn away from all other identities.

Our initiation into the Christian mystery is unique and all encompassing. Anyone who has been in the Old and Independent Catholic movement long enough will no doubt have encountered any number of other indie folk who have been “initiated” into various spiritual collectives. If, however, we take our baptism seriously, then it is only right that we ought to step away from these other initiations for one simple reason – if you have been infused with the divine life, with the image of the Logos himself – all other possible initiations are at best second rate, lacking the total fulfilment and substance of that which we receive from Christ in baptism.

Last year (at least I think it was last year) this was my favoured, fun, Christmas vid. This year – Thanks to Maggie Dawn, we’ve got this clever, and quite amusing rendition of the Nativity story told in a very modern context.

So (putting this in the context of theology) what effect do you find the “digital age” has had, or is having, on theology, and the interaction between theology and praxis?

We live in a shopaholic society. We are daily bombarded with messages, hints, and outright directives telling us that acquiring X or Y makes us worthy. Worthy of what is a good question, but conformity is still required. “We are markets – you will be assimilated . . . .”

Once again we are standing on the threshold of the Feast of the Nativity – a feast that has, at least duing my lifetime, an increasingly long shadow – I think I saw my first Christmas advertisement in late September, early October this year. How long before we have them in August? Now Christmas advertising is in full frenzy. You can buy a ready made Christmas party. You must “show” that you “care” by buying these expensive (read – totally unnecessary) items from our shop. And my favourite – from a UK retailer a few years ago, Fathers who want to show their sons that they love them, buy from X! Needless to say – our household has not bought anything from X since.

Have you ever spent a moment to think about shopping in relation to theology? I suspect more of us have than have not. For example – do you refuse to buy products from company X, or country Y because of an ethical objection? How do you decide whether or not to buy that new mobile, or laptop, or notebook, or game console? Is it based on real need, or pure desire?

These are not always easy straightforward questions, but as we approach a ceelebration of the renewal of creation – should we not take a moment and consider our stewardship of that creation? And what about our stewardship of our own person? One another? Today it is I think very hard to separate these things from the consumer lifestyle that we are in – whether or not we wish to be.

I’m still playing with some of these questions – in part brought on by the feral marketing machine running in circles, chasing its tail during the “Festive Season”, and in part by some interesting essays on it including this one over at Religion Dispatches. What are your thoughts?

This essay by Giles Fraser of the Guardian was very enjoyable. Not only does he raise the interesting question about how people percieve the theology of the Incarnation, but he also draws in some interesting elements about current approaches to theology generally.

As we are approaching the feast of the Nativity how do you understand the Incarnation? What does it bring to your experience, or practice of the faith?

I’m a bit behind on things – including posts. It’s half way through Lent and I’ve not much to show for it here on site – sorry about that.

Yesterday was the fifth Sunday of Lent – St. Mary of Egypt, one of my favourite saints because her story is so interesting. She was a linen weaver, who enjoyed sex a bit too much. On one occasion she journeyed to Jerusalem, she joined a throng of pilgrims entering the church of the Resurrection, she found herself prevented by some “invisible force” entering the church itself. At that moment she realised some things had to change, and she had to re-claim her humanity.

The link between Mary’s debauchery and her loss of person-hood is one that is closely tied to asceticism. Athanasius says of humanity’s fall that they became like animals, unreasonable, violent, and greedy. Origen describes how idolatry is shaping one’s being according to an image other than that of the Logos, usually animals – asceticism trains the individual and refines his or her reflection of the Logos, and throught that process empowers the individual to realise the fullness of being.

In the church, St. Mary turns to an icon of the Theotokos and “repents”. She is then allowed into the shrine, and from there made her way to the desert where she spent the rest of her life. Two years before she died Mary encountered Zosimas, a priest who was spending Lent in the desert. She recounted her story to him, and he gave thanks for having finally met a true “God-bearer”. Mary asked him to return the following year and give her communion at the banks of the Jordan. He did, and she walked on the water to meet him on the other side. She asked him to return the following year to the place they had first met. When he did Zosimas found that Mary had died.

Zosimas found that Mary had scrawled in the dirt a request that he bury her there. The problem was that the earth was baked hard, and he could not dig it. A lion passed, and Zosimas ordered the large cat to dig a hole using his powerful claws. He then returned to his monastary to tell everyone about the glorious St. Mary of Egypt.

The year before she died Mary encountered Zosimas, a priest who was spending Lent in the desert.

Perhaps the second most important feast in the liturgical cycle (Pascha being the first) today we celebrate the manifestation of the Trinity, and the philanthropy of God.

“When you enlightened all things at the time of your manifestation, . . . the Jordan reversed its course, flowing uphill and carrying us to heaven.”

Today is also the annual great blessing of water – and the blessing of homes for the coming year. Whereupon much partying ensues.

Around this time of year we often hear about “re-claiming” Christmas; often with very little effect. However, this piece by Religion & Ethics Newsweekly on a move to re-claim St. Nicholas is I think a very thoughtful and possibly one of the more effective places to start.

OK, so this morning I was struck by something as I quickly scanned the recent weeks of the Calendar project. Roughly – throughout the past four months – that is one quarter of the year – there have been on average only 3.5 commemorations per month of female saints!

Obviously this is not “scientific” – as there are some months in the year that have many more commemorations of holy women in the history and tradition of our faith. But I wonder if it might not be better to . . . “spread them around” a bit better to get a sense of the balance that is naturally there?

Balance afterall is a very Eastern idea – look at the liturgy – when we pray together there is a strict order of balance for all sorts of things – like the saints, the trinity, the Theotokos, and for our own needs and commemorations.

One reason why this balance is not immediately apparent in the calendar is that we tend to commemorate a given individual on the date he or she died. This introduces a bit of natural randomness. However, I cannot help but wonder too if there is not a bit of un-conscious bias in the compilation of the menaion?

I watched this vid from Religion & Ethics News Weekly this morning and it reminded me of the work I did when studying at Oxford on the features and functions of “Sacred Space”.

What constitutes “Sacred Space” will vary from one person to the next – from one group to the next – I realised this when doing a comparative study during my course-work. Part of the project was to visit two radically different Anglican communities, in this case St. Ebbs, and Pusey House for a service to see how the space was used, how the two services in the same communion compared, and so on; then to compare that with my own experience as an Eastern rite OC/IC believer. The whole experience was fascinating – and allowed me to explore and experience various elements of “Sacred Space” I’d never previously considered.

Because we are Indie folk, because we are people of faith, I think we often take sacred spaces for granted – we “know” them, but we don’t often stop to consider them, because they are so very familiar to us.

And yet – for many of our communities – “sacred space” is something that we must improvise. Many of our communities do not meet in an “established” sacred space (borrowed, rented, or even “owned”) – we meet in living rooms, sitting rooms, kitchens, pubs, and parks. So how do we, in our context, create and envisage sacred spaces? There is a custom in Chaldean communities – that emerged under the Ottomans, where the space is consecrated and de-consecrated at the beginning and end of each liturgy. What steps do our communities take when meeting in non-religious spaces, or even non-indie spaces to consciously be aware of this thing we call “Sacred Space”?