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.

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.

Given the referendums in the US, and the rise of violent (even deadly) attacks on LGB folk here in the UK this examination of the relationship between religion and LGBT youth appeared to be rather timely.

I was not aware for example, of the high percentage of homeless teens who identify as LGB folk. Moreover, the frightening consequences of their homelessness – entering the sex-trade to survive is a point well worth discussion – particularly as it has a direct impact on Christian ethics, and teaching – we who are baptised are charged to actively seek to end the suffering of others, and as I wrote some time ago:

“Viewing the “free” pics and video clips on pornographic sites, is not as “free” as you might think. Not only are those who are filmed not “free”; but thanks to “cookies” and other tracking methods, porn producers, know you were there, and are able to better target their audience, thus, increasing their profits. An increase in profit means that more people are drawn into, or forced to remain in the porn, and associated sex industries – more people suffer.”

What can we do? As individuals we can refuse to visit pornographic sites, we can support organisations that help work to free homeless teens (all of them – not just the gay ones!) from the sex-trade, and we can talk about this often un-discussed issue with others. As OC/IC communities . . . well, there are any number of ways that we can work together, collaborate, and make a real difference. But that would have to begin with our first building more trust with one another. Something I’m afraid is in lamentably short supply.

Getting involved, being engaged in the wider scope of Christian action is sometimes a bit daunting – where to you begin? What issues/needs are not being given the space they deserve at the table? And more importantly in our OC/IC context – how can our tiny local community, or regional body, contribute in substantive ways to making positive changes for others, and ourselves?

For sure, I don’t have the answers to these questions, but over the past couple of years when a possible resource for this discernment process catches my eye I’ve tried to make it register on your radar too. This morning I found a site called change.org which, a first glance, appears to do just that. Have a look – maybe you’ll find something there that you and/or your community can become more engaged with.

If you know of a similar resource please post it in the comments so we can all have look. Thanks.

For much of yesterday (Sunday) we pottered about in the garden. Thinning the leaf cover on the pond, watering, planting, picking, tidying. I spent the day intermitantly considering the connection between gardening and spirituality/devotion. Early reflections on Mary – for example, relied heavily on the image of the “enclosed garden” or Paradise. This was not merely a reflection on her virginity (Paradise being un-tilled, un-cultivated but naturally beautiful), it was also a statement about spirituality and transcendance. Virgins were constantly reminded not to allow anyone to lay waste to their garden (see for example Athanasius’ First Letter to the Virgins of Alexandria) – to trod on the delicate flowers, or pick the fruit – attaining spiritual progress, demands that one not allow distractions to enter the garden, as they destroy the flowering plants.

A garden – one’s own personal Paradise – is not just a metaphore. Gardens, big and small are places of beauty, serenity, inspiration, and thanksgiving. Praxis is all about “cultivating” inner beauty, serenity (clarity of mind), and thanksgiving – with inspriation as a natural by-product of the three.

A garden is a place to commune – just as Adam and Eve communed with God before that unplesant business with the snake, we commune with nature, with one another, and in the quiet beauty of our little Paradise, with God himself.

If perhaps you are reading this thinking: Ha! I live in a flat, or a city, and have no space nor time for “gardening” allow me to attempt to pursuade you otherwise.

A window box, an old file box lined, filled with compost and placed on your balcony, or in front of a big window. A Potted fig with some small flowers around the edges, what about a strawberry pot? how are these not also mini-Paradises? The possibilities are endless, and only limited by your creative use of what’s available.

Below – for example – we’ve used an old grill to grow lettuce in. It’s pretty, it’s utilitarian, and it is extremely low maintenance.

Do you have a window in your bathroom? Why not get a couple of orchids and either stand them on the window sill, or hang them from the ceiling – many smell amazing, all of them produce beautiful long lasting flowers, and benefit from the steam of your shower.

Your own little Paradise, is about joy, beauty, and refreshment – just as our practice of Christianity is. And just as there is no set form for the practce of our faith – there is also no set form for establishing your own quiet point in space for prayer, reflection, communion, and beauty.

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.

Matthias was chosen by lot to replace Judas (Acts 1.15-26). The use of “lots” to discern the will of God was an ancient practice – see for example the numerous references to the Urim and Thummim in the Old Testament; and not exclusive to Judaism or early Christianity.

What is interesting in the narrative of Matthias’ selection are Peter’s comments about the process. First candidates are selected and “offered” by the community – these men were to have been a part of the mission and ministry from the beginning “from the baptism of John until the day on which he [Christ] was taken up from us” (Acts 1.22). These individuals were to become a living witness of christ’s resurrection (and presumably the teaching that explained or justified his death and resurrection) – thus they could speak with authority, teach with confidence, and be trusted by all because of their having “been there” from the beginning. The community chose their candidates: Barsabbas, and Matthias.

Peter then prayed: “You, Lord who know the hearts of all, show which one of these two you have chosen” (Acts 1.24). Barsabbas and Matthias were given lots and the “lot fell upon Matthias, and he was counted with the eleven” (Acts 1.26).

“God and Man together” – this is an ancient axiom which underpins so much of our theology. Without it we would suffer from fatalism, and the heresy of pre-destination – “free will” would be meaningless, and praxis both of spiritual disciplines aimed at realising theosis, and the living out of the teachings of Christ would be carried out in vain.

The selection of Matthias is both an example of the “process” of human and divine cooperation – of discernment. It is also an approach to choosing candidates for office in our communities that is well worth considering in our indie context – where too many are ordained and consecrated with only the first half of the process (man) and not the second (divine action/inspiration) having been considered.

The ecumenical councils are thought to express the will of the Spirit because of the unanimity of the council – having debated (fought) over the points at hand for days even weeks until arriving at a concensus. The Copts until the 1950s chose (I’m not sure if they still do) the Patriarch by lot from selected candidates. The early custom of “mob ordination” where the congregation sets upon a candidate spontaneously is another example of this process in action. Thus, it is not unreasonable for us to expect that the normal practice in our commiunities ought to embody this ideal of discernment, process, and “God and Man together”.

From the Utne Reader – apparantly children with a sense of “spirituality” are happier than those who are not. However, religious practices don’t appear to have the same affect. Check out the article here.

“Liberal” churches may be sabotaging themselves by reducing the commitment of their members – so suggests a recent report in New Scientist. The persecution of early Christians may have had a dramatic effect on the spread of Christianity because the sacrifices of martyrs and confessors instilled in others the idea of sincerity: “few would willingly give their life for an ideal they did not believe in”.

Once people believe they are more likely to undertake or endure similar displays of committment. Through a mathematical model, the study suggests that this becomes a “self-reinforcing loop” enabling the belief system to persist over time.

The suggestion is that communities that expect a higher level of committment as displayed through particular behaviour endure and grow whereas those communities which do not eventually dissipate. Comparing liberal Protestant churches and fundamentalist Protestant churches appears to prove the point.

How is this relevant to OC/IC communities?

I dare say that today there might be a few confessors out there, but not too many martyrs. So lets look at the effects of more down to earth forms of “costly sacrifices”.

The study suggests that acts of sacrifice, or self-denial/renunciation by religious leaders has a stronger overall impact on the commitment of others. So, how many of our OC/IC leaders and clergy are regularly participating in the life and community of other churches? From the stand point of a visitor/observer/participant – if my local indie bishop, priest or lay leader is heavily involved in another tradition then this indie thing must not be worth my own personal investment.

This opens the door to the next question, assume our leaders are setting the example, are we doing enough to cultivate, and encourage “membership” through the right of chrismation? That is to say – if our leaders have “sacrificed” the (false) safety net of another church, then are we also encouraging the same within the community as a whole? In short are we actively giving people a reason to give a confident “yes” to the OC/IC way of life, and be willing to whole heartedly throw in their lot with us?

Keeping in mind the above two points, how might the common practice of open communion affect committment to, identification with our OC/IC communities?

Finally, in our history can we point to as an exemplar of commitment to the OC/IC ideal? I can think of a few, such as Varlet and Ofiesh, how about you?

Earlier this week I posted on Feasts – and the converstaion took an interesting and unexpected direction to discuss fasting and the customary fasting periods before Pascha, and other feast days. I’ve been pondering this thread of the conversation ever since, been doing some reading too. It struck me this morning that many (if not all) religious traditions have fasting customs. Often (at least the examples I can think of off the cuff) these culminate in a feast.

Our historic custom of fast periods is a shared experience across the religious spectrum – a point of solidarity with other faithful people, and seekers of God. What a shame then that over the past century or so the value of fasting customs has been diminished; such that in the extreme (z.b. giving up chocolate for lent) it is little more than a quaint after-taste of a long lost medaeval tradition.