I’ve been waiting for this for some time now – I heard about it when it first started – and have remembered and forgotten about it off and on for two years since. But here it is – finally – the web site of the Codex Sinaiticus.

What!? Youd don’t know what it is? Ach Mein Lieber Gott! It’s only the oldest complete manuscript of the NT (fourth century)! Oh and its very pretty too.

So sit back, rev up your browser, and enjoy a piece of Christian history online! Oh, and if you like this – I can point you to some other really nifty papyriology/manuscript sites of similar vein.

This series of three short posts by Bp. Alan Wilson (Anglican) is well worth reading and sitting with. We talk alot both here, and amongst ourselves in other places about the longevity of OC/IC communities – what it means to be “in community” and how we can re-vision some of our ideas about being ekklesia in our context.

Using Benedictine ideas, Bp. Alan explores “obedience” and “stability” placing them at the heart of the life of a community. Have a read – then come back and share your thoughts and ideas.

Every week during the liturgy we sing the cherubikon: “Let us who mystically represent the cherubim . . . now lay aside all earthy care that we may welcome the king of all invisibly escorted by angelic hosts . . .” How often have we sat and reflected on what it is we are saying here? What does it have to do with the Great Fast?

Oliver Burkeman wrote an interesting column in the Guardian a few weeks ago. Citing Thomas Merton, Burkeman observes that the overload, and stress we create in our lives through “busyness” and “multitasking” has become a twisted form of self harm, a “frenzy that destroys our inner capacity for peace.” But the “problem” is not merely created by our modern way of life – though to be sure, unchecked it does have a way of gaining overwhelming momentum, dragging us through the streets of chaos – rather we are actively responsible for it as well. Psychologists have argued that this maniacal busyness is not only a perverted, inefficient method of bolstering our individual self worth, but it s also an avoidance mechanism enabling us to not delve into important questions, and make needed positive change in our lives. And so, we “claim” to have no time for X since we don’t even have five minutes for ourselves.

During the Great Fast our “discipline” (asceticism) changes radically. Because of the traditional food customs – no meat, no dairy, etc. – we are cutting things out, setting things aside. We have to consciously think about the ingredients we use, and often find that we have to do more food preparation ourselves because of it. This requires “time” and patience. It requires a degree of focus, not just now, but three days from now – not necessary to open a box of M&S ready meal and pop it in the microwave. There is therefore a quality of time spent issue here. How much of our “busyness” is time spent in quality activity? How much time in our day to we fill with insubstantial “stuff” treating it all with the same sense of value and urgency? How much of it really needs to be in our day? What can be dispensed with, making room for reflection, silence, companionship, and a quality meal – the things that transform our living, enriching our sense of “being” in the moment, with Christ, and with one another.

How full is your mental inbox . . . I mean truly how full is it? Now is the time – this is the season – to really, truly train ourselves to “lay aside all earthly care” and recieve the King of Glory.

**PS – yes, I’m behind a bit here . .  . . I’ve been .  . . “busy”

I’ve been reading Mother of God: a history of the Virgin Mary, by Miri Rubin this week. I bought it in part, based on a review in the Guardian a few weeks ago, and in part because of my ongoing battle with the PhD from Hell.

Rubin’s writing style is very readable. A good thing when you consider how challenging it is to chart the tangled history of our faith’s interest in Mary. Rubin presents her ideas in manageable vignettes focussed on particular ideas or historical elements – such as the council of Ephesus, Mary’s patronage of asceticism, etc. With her style and map of the text this ought to make a fantastic survey book for students of Mary, cult and devotion. Unfortunately it falls down on accuracy and attention to detail.

I should point out that I’m only now just over a third of the way through the text. However, I’m finding that it is not just one vignette that is academically wonky, but multiples of vignettes that just don’t carry the day (I’m therefore, not hopeful for an improved second half). Rubin’s coverage of the events surrounding Ephesus for example is thus far the lowest point. She suggests that the emergence of the devotional title Theotokos was a top down development, when in fact the evidence points to the exact opposite being true. Rubin mis-reports basic facts about the players in the controversy – Proklos was a bishop, not a priest. Her grasp on the fine points of the theology involved is equally misleading and sometimes outright wonky – her description of Nestorius’ Christology for example is way out of sync with even his own writings. To be fair to her, however, in this instance, it is easy to make the mistakes she made, and given the structure of her text (vignettes) trying to grab the essence of Nestorius’ teaching in a few short lines is a real challenge that I can’t imagine anyone doing successfully without misrepresenting him.

Reviewers described the book as “masterful”, “fascinating”, “breathtaking [. . .] scholarship”, and “intellectually exuberant”, I think that the project deserves to be recognised as a laudable attempt at chronicling 1500 years of Marian cult and devotion – but it falls far short of the dizzying heights of authority suggested by other reviewers.

Back in the 90’s there was a marked shift in religious life and thinking in the US. This lead many in the indie movement to speculate that this would bring more members into OC/IC communities. But did it – really? My experience was that it really made no difference at all – but perhaps this was due to the nature of where I was (DC) and the demographics of the people who came to our local parish.

The other question of course was did we really want disaffected Episcopalians, and Roman Catholics swelling the ranks of OC/IC communities? Again, experience suggests, that no, we did not, largely because we were not, at that time, strong enough in our own self identification to be able to not be overwhelmed by the psychological and spiritual baggage that this group presents when shifting denominational allegiance.

Over the past three weeks there have been a number of articles and studies released suggesting that religious belief, and denominational loyalty have suffered over the past decade in the US. I live in the UK where there is almost no Christianity to speak of – and what there is, is increasingly frightening in its radicalism and narrow mindedness. A number of articles have been even more “apocalyptic” speculating that within the next decade we will see the collapse of evangelical/protestant Christianity in the US, and an acceleration of splintering and radicalisation of the remnants of the faith there.

Not wanting to sound like the circling vultures I’m sitting here wondering how this might affect our communities? There is a suggestion in these studies, and earlier ones that the indie movement is seeing an upsurge of growth over the past ten years. A quick survey of the indie presence in my old stomping grounds in the states, while un-scientific to be sure, suggests this is true. There is also an increased probability of negative affects – just as in the shift observed 10 years ago, we might be overcome by issues and identifications of “other” traditions, which are incompatible with our own. Are we ready; are we stronger now in our sense of self-identification and “worth” than we were a decade ago? If not – what can we do collaboratively now, to lay the foundations for a better future?

On this day in 1994 – the Synod was founded. How cool is that! Come to think of it – it is rather amzaing that we’re still going! We’ve had the typical ups & downs of any community, and quite a few “pruning” exercises – but for an OC/IC community to last this long is really something to celebrate I think.

Consider for a moment what it is we “do” during Lent. Because of the fast, we consciously consider our diet, we adjust what we eat, we are increasingly aware of the ingredients – are they vegetarian or not. During Lent the discipline of the season shapes our daily life, it informs and refines our choices. But too often our focus is on “following the rules” because this is the tradition – rather than the purpose and effect of practicing “discipline” or asceticism.

The discipline of Lent is not about deprivation and dieting. The discipline of Lent like any ascetic practice, is about refinement and conscious action. Our fasting practice erupts into our daily life and challenges us to integrate spiritual practice into daily life. Too often we divide the two letting one overshadow the other, compartmentalising the “public” and the “private” aspects of our life. So here’s the question – in your experience of our Christian faith which is public, and which is private? Does this paradigm require an adjustment? How can you carry this conscious integration into your post-Lent living?

This is the door full of love,

and within it is love.

Enter, sinner, pray [much] for love from your Lord,

full of love.

For centuries pilgrims (Pagan and Christian) have left their mark on shrines and holy places – grafitti is just one method. Today we think of it as a marring, a desecration – but to many, such as the author of the above inscription, it was an act of devotion.

This inscription is found just inside the entrance to the church of St. Antony in the Monastary of St. Antony in Egypt. It is the only known Syriac grafitti and very much reflects the style of Syriac spirituality.

It caught my eye – and made me take a moment and reflect on the cause of our relationship with Christ, and through him, one another.

If you’d like to read more of the grafitti at St. Antony’s, as well as the wall paintings, history, and conservation of the monastary, check out the book “Monastic Visions: Wall Paintings in the Monastery of St. Antony at the Red Sea (ISBN 0300092245).

Is delayed. Should be up in the next 48 hours – we’ve got company – yeah.

Since dabbling more and more in social media networks like Twitter and Facebook I’ve noticed something emerging in the vocabulary of other Christians online. More and more believers refer to their being a “follower of Jesus” or some variation thereof, avoiding or consciously rejecting the more typical “Christian”. I (perhaps mistakenly) thought that this was a product of the Emergent movement, thought it was rather neat and left it at that. Until, I read this post at FaithLab that suggests that it is a conscious decision rejecting the baggage laden “Christian”.

The post goes on to raise some interesting questions: “No doubt, the term “Christian” has baggage. Does it mean a hard-nosed, judgemental, Bible-literalist churchgoer? Or can it also label a humble, quiet, spiritually active follower? What about believers who are not church-goers? Christianity has always had a tremendous diversity of expression. But in our media-saturated world, unfortunately it seems that terms are given meaning by one particular group or approach. How do we define ourselves when we don’t fit that stereotype?”

I confess that since becoming more aware of how religion – and especially Christianity – is portrayed in various media sources, I’ve become more aware of some of this “baggage”. I’ve always approached this awareness through my personal conduct as a believer, a theologian, and a cleric – recalling the line in the morning prayer that says, may I not be the cause of embarrassment to the faith. But, is the praxis of a single individual enough? Krista Tippet talks movingly about the scope of our ability to transform the world in the latter half of her book Speaking of Faith, and says that all we can hope to accomplish is that one to one, individual activity that expresses the core of our belief and tradition.

Over the past decade or so I’ve heard many thoughtful arguments within our own OC/IC community about dropping or changing the labels we use to describe or refer to ourselves. The one that usually gets the axe is “catholic” largely because of its association with the Roman Catholic church (which we are not). Another – interestingly enough – is “church”; this term is laden with associations of institutionalisation, buildings, politics, and hierarchy.

Should we consider changing our terms? What benefit is there in doing so? Should we not instead strive to re-claim the true meaning of the existing language, or is that a lost cause?