“. . . I will not reveal your mysteries to your enemies, nor give you a kiss as did Judas . . .”

We had a rather interesting conversation about this line in the prayer before communion this morning at breakfast. It is a reminder that Christianity is a “mystery cult” and begs the question – how is it so today? The conversation wandered down the path of speculation, we explored the link between this phrase and the responsibility to guard the sanctity of the Eucharistic assembly we all share (this lead to questions about who are Christ’s enemies then?); how does this square with the “orthodox” stance against classical Gnosticism, which claimed to pass on the true and secret teachings of Christ to initiates (“orthodox” teaching holds that all teaching was revealed to the whole ekklesia); how too does this sentiment connect with the Great Commission – to make disciples of all people?

At one point G asked – should we have things in the Liturgy that people do not understand? Hmmm . . . now this is a good question. My immediate response is that if it cannot be explained then no, it ought not be there. But then there is the point of leaving room for growing into understanding of an element, image, or idea.

Take it out because it might have been inconvenient, or incomprehensible at one point, might upset the balance of other images and ideas in the rite making them incomprehensible and before you know it – the weave of the rite is unravelled and you are left with nothing.

This morning I was rifling through my notebook – in which I scribble a line or two of an idea, and . . . usually forget it altogether, or don’t come back to it for weeks or months – I was looking for something else, while in the back of my mind reflecting on some of the points raised in the conversation we began before the Feast of the Nativity when I stumbled across a page that had one line:

What are our values?

It dawned on me some weeks ago that we hear a lot about “values” from various angles. Politicians here in the UK talk a lot about western liberal values of tolerance, freedom of speech, and diversity, in the US we hear quite a bit about “family values”. In both uses there is an implicit statement of how some communities do not share these “values”, indeed some among that group are actively (secretly) working to undermine them. The term “values” has become a watchword – a term to key into a set of ideas that the “in” group understands as a positive statement about them, and the “not so in group” knows is a not so coded attack on their . . . . “values”  . . . . their humanity even.

I don’t think it ought to be this way – indeed I think that in this morass there is something, something useful in our OC/IC context; that is this idea of “values” is a loose glue, a common ground or meeting point where a constructive, cooperative conversation is sustained.

The trick, of course is discernment; picking out from the many competing ideas and practices within our disparate OC/IC community those ideas, those concepts, or practices that we collectively hold as OC/IC values.

What do you think – what are our OC/IC values?

You will name him Immanuel – which means “God with us”. Curiously the name of the herald of the Good news, Gabriel also means “God with us”. Yet, too often, the model of the mechanics of the Incarnation received is one of misery, shame, and blood sacrifice to a twisted angry deity. Salvation, in this model, is a wholly one-sided affair. Christ bore in his person the entirety of human sin, visualised as his suffering and death on the cross. Jesus became our “scape-goat”. This model leaves one hanging on the question of what happened next? What is more, it cultivates a theology of shame and disgrace – humanity is ugly, depraved, corrupt, an abomination in the sight of God. If that were so – why then did God become one of us? This popular model has another failing, it strips us of any responsibility for realising the gift of salvation, cultivating it into the full flowering of enlightenment. If Jesus is merely a blood sacrifice we have no investment in the project of salvation – no responsibility. We are deprived of our God-given free will, our God-given dignity, and reduced to mere play-things of a mentally unstable deity. It’s all wrong – very wrong!

Throughout the Old Testament the prophets and the Law called Israel to invest in the relationship between God and man. When she did, Israel realised the full benefits of her marriage with God – in tangible ways, freedom, prosperity, peace, and the respect of other nations. Here – at the beginning of our Christian story – it is not “just” God but God and Man, God with us, who enters the arena and sets into motion the essential elements of our liberation from fear, and the oppression of Death. Here, at the beginning of the story, God has invested his whole self his essence (ousia) and invites us to do the same – to be a participant in the process. Through God’s love for us – there is also, respect.

We’ve got a thread going talking about raising the level of identification within our community with our OC/IC tradition. I’ve been asking for your ideas – and look forward to hearing more of them. However, as I was making my “rounds” this afternoon it dawned on me that I’d not put A, and B, and C together of something I’ve been experimenting with lately – and thought I’d take a minute and put it “on paper” and see what it might elicit from regular visitors.

A few weeks ago I posted saying that it would be wonderful if more of our folks were blogging. I think this is a great way to create space(s) for engagement and support. One thing I would like to discourage (and Lyngine and I have been passing notes about this in a similar vein) is the all too common practice of OC/IC bloggers pointing to blogs of other churches – Episcopalians, Romans, etc. My reasoning here is simple – it gives the very strong impressin that we have nothing of our own to contribute, that we have no ideas of our own, and that we are lacking in inter-OC/IC engagement. The thing is – there is some truth to this sense of the state of things – but only a little. Most of our conversation goes on behind the scenes, in ones and twos and rarely is it “connected” – blogging is a way to connect with one another.

So how do we move away from talking about what the other churches think (just another form of reactionary response) to talking about, exploring ideas and issues that are inimical to our own experience of the faith? One thing I’ve found helpful recently is to troll the religion stories in various media and to write about the underlying themes and isses of those stories that grab my attention – explicitly from an OC/IC perspective, and (where possible) without any reference to another denomonation.

Keep those ideas coming.

This NOVA program on biblical archaeology and history is rather interesting – you can watch what appears to be the whole program in convenient segments here.

It might be awkward to think about establishing a shrine in your home. Over the centuries since the foundation of Sacramental Christianity we have moved away from the home as the centre of our life of faith toward the church building where the focus of our rituals, feasts, functions and features now rests.

This shift, it seems, has had a negative effect on our perception of how we live within our faith. We have, sometimes unconsciously, come to seek the sacred “out there” “elsewhere” anywhere but right here in our home – among our friends and family, conducting the “mundane” rituals of life. We therefore, often view our daily routines as “profane” – any sense of their sacramentality has been diminished, largely because we no longer percieve the place where we are, now, as a sacred context. The church building has overshadowed the sacred character of our homes.

A home shrine is a feature of your home that you assemble, which has meaning for you and your family. You might go for the more “traditional” icon corner (perhaps with very un-traditional icons), you may choose a small table with a statue and a candle, perhaps a reading stand with a Gospel book, or festal icon, the possibilities are endless. Through a home shrine, your perception of where you meet God, and encounter the sacred is re-aligned. It is not “out there” but here, now.

I stumbled across this article about the current state of the Ecumenical Catholics (+Shirilau) this morning. The overarching theme of the text is that “alternative” Christian communities (in this case a rather large OC/IC community) are suffering a loss in membership now that the “mainline” churches are becoming more LGB friendly.

To my mind it is sad to see a successful OC/IC community not doing well in the shifting sands of contemporary Christian issues. On the other hand, I’m embarrassed because it raises the spectre of an issue I’ve been banging on about for a while – if we present ourselves as a single issue community, or as an alternative to [insert your favourite Christian -ism here] we will never bee seen as more than a reactionary movement, and our individual congregations and synods will always suffer the upheaval and loss brought on by the shifting sands of contemporary issues.

My argument has been that we need to focus on cultivating our own dialogue and resources within our OC/IC setting. What ideas do you have?

The Guardian’s Belief section on Monday (15 Dec) posed a rather fun – and interesting question: what would you say in a letter to God? The idea comes – it seems – from the fact that the post office in Jerusalem places all letters addressed to “God” in the Western Wall. How neat is that!

I’ve sat with the question for an hour or so, and to be honest I’m stumped – I’ve no idea what I would write in such a letter. Part of me thinks there’s so much to say – that it would be a jumbled laundry list of questions, complaint, thanksgiving, wonder, and want. Part of me thinks that the exercise is a bit silly because, as others on the CIF:Belief blog have noted – he already knows before you put pen to paper. But in this I find that there is a “tension” one that, it seems to me leads to reflection.

Severus of Antioch, writing in the fifth century, interprets Jesus’ interaction with Mary at the wedding of Cana thus: “Indeed, if they had had the kind of concerns they should have had at that moment, they would have begged God to make up for the lack of wine, since anyone who is in need asks to obtain what he needs.” Severus’ point, in part, is that we do not invest enough in the discipline of knowing, of being aware of what we truly need.

God knows – but we need to come to that knowledge. The process of arriving at such an awarness is an active one, and one that we cultivate through practice (praxis) and engagement. Perhaps, writing a letter to God is not a silly exercise afterall, but a starting point of understanding.

Burning lights in honour of the saints and martyrs has been a feature of Christian devotion since the late antique period. Jerome (Against Vigilantius) pointing to the example of the woman who anoints Jesus with costly oil (Mt. 26.6-13; Mk. 14.3-9; Lk. 7.36-50), defends the offering of lights as an act of heartfelt love and devotion.

Vigilantius also accuses that the practice is a pagan form of devotion that has no place in the life of the faithful Christian. It is true, pagan households did have shrines to the gods where various offerings were made and devotions took place. Jerome’s response can be roughly summarised thus: So what if it is! The intention now, however, is to honour God and his saints.

At yesterday’s Liturgy we commemorated the Ancestors of Christ – all those who through faithfulness and wisdom contribute to our understanding the whole story of the immanent Incarnation and our salvation. They have taught us, and we now invite them to join with us in our joyful expectation of the coming Incarnation.

Yesterday’s Gospel – Lk. 14.16-24 – is a curious juxtaposition with the tenor of the commemoration. Here the ones invited, the ones who are expected to enjoy the feast, withdraw, and are then replaced with others who are unknown to the host. “For, I tell you, none of those men who were invited will taste my dinner.” The feast was planned – the invitations went out weeks ago. Invited guests “knew” that they were coming, that they were expected; but who ends up at the table, those who had no idea a feast was prepared, who had no expectation of being invited, let alone attending.

We are faced, it seems, with a paradox, on the one hand a celebration of Israel and her contribution to our (Gentile) enlightenment; on the other, a rejection of Israel in favour of the Gentiles – who were never invited in the first place.