Bože!

It’s finally here – today is “clean monday”, the fast has begun. So here’s the question: what is “the fast” all about anyway?

Athanasius writing in the fourth century said that a bit of moderate asceticism was useful for everyone – not just ascetics (read – monks, virgins, nuns and vowed widows). But the age of “asceticism” which has played an enormous role in shaping Christian praxis – is ostensibly over (something lamented by fifth and sixth century writers). Does this mean that the Great Fast no longer has purpose?

The fast before Pascha has taken on a life of its own – originating in an act of solidarity with those preparing for baptism it has grown from a one week communal event to a 50 day extravaganza. This is not a bad thing – rather it is simply the natural progression this practice took.

Similarly – in modern practice at least – many of the “mini lents” that preceded the major feast days are no longer observed – instead our communal act of asceticism and solidarity has been collected, sorted, and sunk into “Great Lent”. Are we not perhaps missing out on a valuable opportunity for re-investing in personal and communal praxis?

Stepping away from the mechanics of the when, and how of fasting – lets look at the connection between the act of fasting and the theology of food, and the relationship we as sacramental Christians have with food, and with one another through the symbolism of foods and eating. Without looking in your copy of the Gospels – recall some of the major “it” moments in the Gospels: the wedding at Cana, the feeding of the multitude, dining with Zaccheus, Jesus annointed by the woman with the alabaster jar, the last supper, the revealation on the road to Emmeus . . . Each of these major moments in the unfolding of the Salvation narrative happened in the context of a meal – of sharing food. Food, the act of eating together and alone has theological value in sacramental Christianity. If you missed that, what were you doing when you last went to liturgy?

But “food” and eating is something we in Western Europe often take for granted – it is unconsciously separted from our experience of the sacred. We rush out to grab a sandwich or a take-away during the working day – in order to inhale it at our desk, and continue ploughing through work. We attend lavish balls and parties because it is an expression of the host’s largesse (read – wealth and self importance), and it gives us a notch on the bed-post of our own accumulated status. Food is a means to an end, a means of aquiring status, but it has no overt or intrinsic link with our spirituality in day to day affairs. Periods of “fasting” throughout the liturgical year then can help us re-tune that link, restore awareness of the value and meaning of choosing, preparing, and eating a meal. Cooking and eating as praxis – who would have thought!

Revisiting the idea of solidarity for a moment – many of us are increasingly aware of how our consumer choices are having an impact on the environment, and on others. The recent mad dash for bio-fuel has meant that poor nations seeking to reap the immediate benefits of a cash crop switch from food production that is consumed locally, to crop production which is then taken away in exchange for money. The problem of course is that when you are no longer producing your own food – you have to buy it, possibly from a more expensive, non-local source. Throughout the Great Fast we can take the opportunity to choose differently, and in so doing perhaps make a positive contribution to those who have fewer choices available. This by the way ought not to be taken as a replacement for our duty to give alms during Lent.

For the reasons of solidarity with others, of re-investing in the relationship between food and praxis, I’ve wondered out loud for the past few years if it would not be better to resurrect the older model of multiple mini-fasts throughout the year. This would have the effect (in theory at least) of developing a year round awareness, and praxis rather than the mad dash to cram an enormous amount of meaning and activism into one month.

Have a look at this vid of behavioral economist Dan Ariely describing an interesting experiment involving fake fashion – you know the ones – you find “Gucci”, “Prada” handbags and sunglasses being sold for £5 at street vendors all over London. In the experiment he discovers that wearing fake fashion items seems to . . . . “empower” the owner/wearer to cheat more – to be less honest.

Hmmmm . . . .

I find this all rather interesting. Firstly I find the desire for, the need to buy “fake” anything – let alone “fashion” items fascinating. It is the search for status (often unnecessary status), it is the aspiration towards excessive wealth (which has its own negative social and personal effects), I could go on and on . . .

Two things pop out for me that, in this scenario, are directly connected to theology. First there is that bizarre desire to be seen, and to be seen as somehow out of the ordinary, or important. Jesus criticises the religious leaders of his day for wearing tassels, expecting to be greeted in the market place, invited to dinners, and offered the place of honour. It would seem that this particular defect has not yet been winnowed from our indie community at least. Second, there is deception . . . . no deception is not really the right word . . . there is a sense of not being wholly “real” or “honest” – something that from the reference point of the teaching of Christ is . . . well . . . . . just a bit dodgey, no?

Three curious but very interesting essays on “thanksgiving” and its affect or relationship to theology & praxis. First is this from Religion Dispatches an Indian perspective, with what I think is a very positive ending:

“Without a major shift in the way humans thinks about the earth, humans are not only causing the extinction of the biodiversity of the natural world, but also our own descendents. Facing the future must be more than driving a hybrid and recycling aluminum.

We must recognize that tribalism is the most successful human social institution in the world. Tribes have survived the longest war in human history, the war against aboriginal people—and millions of people are turning to those traditions for spiritual sustenance in the modern world.

Preservation of native languages, the key to understanding our philosophy, should be paramount to all universities and museums. While academics are assisting living traditions to preserve our languages and cultures, they need to release the dead and their last offerings they now hold captive. If the Pilgrims could do it in order to learn native agricultural practices, so too can modern society.”

Next, we have an essay from Catholicanarchy.org which effectively reflects on the surreal perverseness of “thanksgiving”.

“. . .[I]t should concern conscientious Christians that the way we “celebrate” “our” “blessings” on this day is to slaughter millions of turkeys in a gluttonous, perverse “sacrament.” But how fitting, isn’t it, that we would ritualize a celebration of american life and culture—a “culture of death” through and through from its founding until today—by treating millions of God’s creatures as if they were mere objects.”

While at the same time acknowledging that to abstain altogether from the feast is more or less just as bad as celebrating it in the first place (grin).

For these two (above) offerings I must “give thanks” to Huw over at Sarx for bringing them to light.

Finally and this also comes from Religion Dispatches, The Sacramental American Day is directly related to the above offerings, describing the idea of the American Civil Religion of which “Thanksgiving” is a major . . . . “holiday”.

So what does this have to do with things OC/IC? Well . . . first these essays raise some interesting questions about the theology of feast days. The real ones. The other day I wondered out loud about the quality and character of the prayers we use (sometimes without thinking) in our liturgies. Now – extending that a bit – I’m wondering are there any feasts, or commemorations in our existing liturgical cycles that are equally “un-christian”?

My community for example is currently 1/2 way through a project to reform the cycle of commemorations one of the things we are looking out for is individuals or events commemorated for a reason “other” than exemplifying the teachings of the Gospel z.b. zealous loyalty to the Bishop of Rome, or being caught up in a political controversey. Its not easy – I’ll grant you that – but it is worth considering what we are commemorating, when we read the dyptichs so to speak.

Johnny Flynn’s comment (quoted above) at the end of his essay No Turkey for Me, about the value of tribalism is also interesting in our indie context. Why? Simple, too often our folks are “tribal” for all the wrong reasons! Indeed I would go so far as to argue that indie folks tend to be vehemently “anti-tribal” in the name of inclusivity, but viscerally “tribal” in the name of preserving priviledge, and a false sense of independence.

Coming from an ethnic background I have a great sense of pride in, and appreciation for the “pros” of tribalism, while at the same time understanding that there are a few real “cons” – I’ve always wondered though if our indie movement has lost a great deal of its “umph”, cohesion, and continuity, precisely because it has reacted negatively against the intstitutionalism of other traditions (mistakenly associating it with “tribalism”)? Maybe we would benefit from a re-evaluation of the differences between institutionalism, and tribalism? It might breath a bit of fresh air over an otherwise stagnant pond.

Faithlab has this interesting snippet about a fundamentalist in California who is openly “praying” for the death of President Obama. They observe (I think correctly) that this is contrary to Jesus’ own example.

What is “prayer”? If we accept that it is that dialogue we have with God throughout the day – then is it not reasonable to expect that the lanuage of our prayer best reflects our aspiration to faithfulness to the teaching of the Gospel?

Paul reminds us to pray for what we need – rather than what we desire. There is I think wisdom here – sometimes we want something, it has caught our attention, or captivated our interest, but rather than contributing to our well being, it is a distraction, even destructive. Our sense of “desire” can be fuelled by ill concieved ideas, half formed thoughts, envy, competition with others . . . you get the idea. If we prayed for what we “desired” and found that those desires were fulfilled – we might later regret having asked for it! In this light then – can any faithful Christian truly believe that praying for the death of another human being (or any being for that matter) does not fall into this category?

But it got me thinking – are there instances of prayers in our liturgies that do not best reflect the gospel ethos? I’m not talking here of instituting a campaign of political correctness – as many regulars already know I find PC language to more often than not be more offensive and distorting than the original texts – rather I’m wondering out-loud if some of the historic “traditional” prayers might need a bit of editing for the sake of faithfulness to the teaching of the Gospel.

The Economist has a good article on some recent (and not so recent) moves linking religious communities with addressing ecological issues (not just climate change, I’d say). They report that a recent meeting of religious leaders, Prince Philip and Ban Ki-moon resulted in various action plans according to one’s tradition.

The Daoists for example have comitted to burning less incense – this is the one that caught my attention most. It is a rather curious idea – when you sit and think about it you can certainly see how that could affect one’s carbon foot print (the harvesting, and burning of plant materials for incense releasing trapped carbon, and/or inhibiting the absorbtion of additional/existing carbon). Here we’ve talked a little bit about incense – and sourcing it locally/indiginously – could that also have a positive effect? Think of the air-miles involved in transporting myrrh, and frankincense for example, whereas something locally grown, or produced in your region would, simply due to the reduction in transport carbon emissions – be greener.

How does your community source the bread used for your local eucharist? How green are Ghostie-toasties? How green is home-baked bread (leavened or unleavened)? I don’t know. I suspect however, that the lamentable bone white wafer is far from being green. But where did the wheat come from for baking your local bread? Here in the UK most of our bread baking wheat, I think, still comes mostly from Canada – eeek!

Would a service lit solely with beeswax candles be greener than say one illuminated with eco-bulbs?

Are we indie folk asking these questions in our communities? If so – what is your community doing?

But while I’m fast approaching my word-limit/post I’d like to re-visit a related topic which is, I suspect, an even more effective means of Indie-Eco-Activism: Food! Food production, and food security is a very serious issue one that has a huge, HUGE impact on ecology and not in your back yard necessarily, but in the back, front, and side gardens of those least able to afford the consequences.

Over the past 100 years throughout the Christian world our theology of food, has quietly smouldered in the background, some of the best elements – like traditional fasting periods – having been eroded, until they are little more than vestigial digits on our calenders.

Perhaps, in our tiny communities of 5, 10, and 20 people we OC/IC folk could inspire a bit of a mini-revolution in theology and praxis that brings the issue of food, and the ecological and social consequences of its production, sale, and consumption to the fore.

“Alternatively, if one denomination unexpectedly adopts an aggressive policy of buying shares in another, then the resulting volatility will make it hard accurately to assess the underlying reality.”

Mark Vernon’s essay in the Guardian Online playing with the imagery of possible parallels between the language, dynamic, and psychology of the eddies of spiritual and religious flux is a fun read – and given the often unstable nature of the Indie climate – rather thought provoking.

Thanks to Siobhan, we’ve got this rather neat article on indie folk in CO.

Let’s check in with the calendar – yup – its the 10th Wednesday after Pentecost. It’s so easy to loose track of the simple things – yes?

Anyway today is the commemoration of Anicetus the Martyr. Anicetus, ike Euplus who we commemorated yesterday, openly “presented himself” to the authorities boldly declaring that all those who worship idols are stupid. For his troubles – Anicetus was beaten senseless with rods, imprisioned for three years, and finally tossed into a furnace, along with his nephew Photios. Although they both died – their bodies were left un-touched by the flames.

What intrigues me about this story (and a number of recent commemorations are not unrelated in this) is the act of antagonism the martyr undertook to bring himself to the attention of the oppressing power; Anecitus antagonised the Pagan authorities, and died because of it.

Three brief thoughts come to my mind here.

Firstly it is worth pointing out that recent scholarship suggests that the persecution of the early church was more sporadic, and not as consistently applied as was once thought. The Roman authorities generally had a hands off approach and only acted when they were either antagonised, or ordered to by those higher up in the chain of command. Usually they did the bare minimum to keep out of trouble – thus the plethora of Confessors in the early church (people imprisoned, exiled or abused for the faith but who were not killed), and the common practice of handing over the books and sacred vessels of the church (more often than not the local official would accept any books, rather than the Scriptures – so a book on Geometry would do just as well thanks). Thus it is likely that in at least some of our commemorations, the narrative is great, inspiring, and instructive, but heavily “embelished”. That is not to say that Anicetus and Photios, and Euplus, and others like them were not real saints – rather it is merely suggesting that their real holiness was not so exciting.

Secondly lets stop for a moment and think about this idea of “antagonising” the locals. It makes me think of door to door evangelists who always come at the wrong time, shoving a pamphlet in your hands, reciting obscure passages of Revalations, and telling you you’re on your way to a firey end (well they don’t come to our house anymore I terrify them by feeding them and being nice to them). If some brazen nutter bursts into your atrium calling you stupid for offering incense to Mars, Apollo and your family ancestors – it would not be unreasonable of you to be rather put out over it all! So here’s the question – is it right, is it constructive, for Christians to stand on the street corner and “proclaim the Word”?

Finally, on a more positive note, it is worth mentioning the “instructive” nature of these narratives. Anecetus makes himself known, he comes out from among the masses and boldly declares: “I’m a Christian!” Boldness in self identity is I think a good thing – so long as that boldness gives shape to a praxis that best represents the ideals of the faith. Declaring my Christianity, or my adherence to the OC/IC tradition is fine but people have to be able to “see” what that means through my actions (my faithfulness to the teachings of the Gospel, the Fathers, and the founding ideals of the OC/IC movement), otherwise its little more than an exercise in attention seeking.

I realised this morning that I’d posted this last week – without a heading. Fixed now.

In a further addition to it – or perhaps a tangent. This weekend I was suddendly struck by the most obvious thing regarding saints. Look at the variety of life and personality commemorated throughout the year as examples of faithfulness and wisdom: fathers & sons, brothers, gardeners, wives, widows, virgins, artists, soldiers, physicians, scholars, nutters, pseudo-nutters, ascetics, old men, young women, the beautiful, the hideous, and the list goes on. Skim through your menaion – and you cannot miss the “obvious” – holiness, faithfulness, wisdom – does not have a “mould” or a consistent form.

Those who think that the ekklesia ought to look like a convent of Stepford Wives – ought to look again at the examples of faith before us, as well as the teachings of the Apostle (Rom. 12. 3-8; 1Cor. 12). So by way of answering my own question – “Saints, why bother?” – we bother because they show us the richness of expression of faithfulness.

Today we commemorate the deacons Prochor, Nicanor, Timon, and Parmenas mentioned in Acts 6.5. They were chosen by the community to serve the social ministry needs of the community so that the Disciples could maintain their focus on teaching and study. According to tradition two became bishops (Prochor and Timon), the other two – it appears (but don’t hold me to this) remained deacons. Timon and Nicanor were both martyred – the first was stoned to death in Jerusalem, the other was burned alive by Pagans in Arabia.

Some years ago I attened a conference in Baltimore on the development of, and resurgence of the diaconate. One of the things that really struck me over the course of the day long gathering was how in many ways the modern diaconate had lost its way – becoming little more than a stepping stone to the priesthood. The attendees were keen to see something done about this – to restore this ancient order. At the time as well many of the liturgical churches were undergoing a renaissance and re-examination of the diaconate – it was fun to see it happening, and to visit with people from various traditions who might best be described as “diaconal activists”.

One of the things I realised both through my participation in the conference, and through the reading I did around that time is that we indie folk have an advantage. Whereas many of the “Big Tent” churches desire to re-invigorate this ancient service order – they find it difficult because of existing attitudes, rules, and accumulated customs surrounding it. There is an “expectation” in many cases that the person will only be a deacon for a limited time. We dont have the weight of Tradition bearing down on us in the same way that other communities do – which gives us a real opportunity to institute unhindered some of the great ideas that came out of this period in the early ’90s. Namely – to stop treating the diaconate like it is a stepping stone to the priesthood – make it a permanant order.

I’d like to know what – if anything – other indie communities are doing about the diaconate. Our community has made an effort to restore it to a fuller expression of “catholic-ness” (see some of my earlier posts to understand my term use here) by making it a permanent order.

To be sure this raises some interesting questions about history, and the development of the “transitional” diaconate. Why is it that by the 19th century candidates for ordination were successively ordained through the minor orders, the diaconate, and the preisthood – rather than directly to their order? Has anyone seen any research on this? To my knowledge there is no theological reason not to ordain directly to the order – if we accept that the charism is complete at the time of installation rather than having to be augmented.