As I stand on the precipice of entering Holy Week, the holiest, most important time of the year for Christians that the rest of the world kind of (mercifully) ignores because it has only managed to co-opt the Easter Egg and candy part of things, which is literally the least important part, I have been reflecting, as I ought, on what my faith means. A kind of all compassing musing on what it is I believe, why I bother to believe it, and going all the way to "What do I call myself, since 'Christian Scientist' is something other than what I am?" I'm going to try to write as much of it as I can on this blog, because I feel it is important, but being musings I can't promise they will be thesis like. They may ramble a bit. Some may be long and some may be short. If you come here for physics posts, sorry not sorry for the theological interlude.
Holy Week, particularly in the liturgical tradition, throws sharp relief on a lot of doctrinal points that Christians tend to go 'yeah, yeah I know' at and non-Christians think we are crazy for believing. It can also bring up, if you run in the right circles, friendly debates about atonement vs. redemption theology, the sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice, and even the purpose of baptism, getting into the paedobaptism vs. believer baptism debate. The practice of Holy Week is designed to remind us, in case Lent did not, that we are broken, and that Christ died to heal that brokenness, and rose again to usher in the coming of wholeness.
That we are broken is something of which I have no doubt. I don't see how anyone can disagree with it. As my father observed, "The doctrine of total depravity has never lacked for outside proof"[ETA: This is apparently a quotation from G.K. Chesterton]. That Christ died to heal that brokenness I also have no doubt, though this is where a lot of the people I know think I've jumped the shark, so to speak. A fair number of my peers (and superiors and inferiors, I have no doubt) think that my faith is odd, nutty, a bit of a relic or even 'something [I'll] outgrow'. I have no problem with the ones who think the first two, I can understand, though not agree with the third and the fourth I find unbearably patronizing, but that is neither here nor there. Christianity *is* weird. And a lot of humans have horribly twisted it and corrupted it and I desperately wish we could make those corruptions a thing of the past, though there is something to be said for the devil you know.
So let's get something out of the way before I get any father into recording my theological thoughts. Just make this the first post.
My faith is not just a comfort in bad time (though it is that), or a I'll-go-someplace-nice-when-I-die wishful thinking, or a philosophy, or a way to connect with a larger community. It is in a very real sense *everything* to me. It defines the universe, my place in the universe, the purpose of the universe and myself; it defines my relationship to God, between myself and my family, between myself and my husband, between myself and every human I will ever encounter; it determines my responsibilities to this world, and everyone and everything in it; it is the entire framework on which my life is built. If you striped everything else away, my faith remains.
"How can you be a scientist and a Christian?" is a question I have heard a (frankly) irritating number of times. From both directions, actually. Scientists who are atheists look askew at my ability to trust science if I also believe in a man-god, and Christians with whom I have strong doctrinal disagreements don't trust my soul to be saved if I think we came from monkeys. The question makes as much sense to me as "how can you be a scientist if you are a woman?". If I really believe that God created the universe, and he created us, how can I *not* believe that this universe would be designed in such a way that we, striving to understand it as we follow our natural, God-given curiosity and using the minds He gave us, could understand? How could I not jump at the opportunity to study a master-craftsman's work? If you think I'm crazy for believing in a Creator, or for believing in a Triune God, or a Savior or whatever particulars of my doctrine baffle you to the extent you doubt my science, you are welcome to check my math. If you think I'm going to Hell because when the math and science say the universe is 14 billion give-or-take years old, I trust that it's right, please point me to the passage in the New Testament where this is named as a salvific issue. I'll wait.
That I am a scientist is not a stumbling block to my faith, and my faith is not a stumbling block to my science. Though I wont go quite so far as Kepler to say that math is the language of God, or even as far as the Belgic confession in favor of natural theology, I will say with the psalmist that the "heavens declare the glory of the LORD" and with Maltbie D. Babcock that "This is my Father's world".
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Meditations on Holy Week
Warning: slightly rambling
Most people who didn't grow up in the church assume that Christmas is the biggest holiday for Christians. It's certainly the most visible and drawn out, the most easily co-opted and inviting of all our holidays (and we have a lot). It's warm and fuzzy and bright at the darkest time of year. The gift portion is certainly attractive to pretty much everyone. And it looks like our name! that's convenient.
But the reality is the Christmas is, at best, the second most important holiday. Holy Week and Easter, collectively known as Passiontide, is our most important holiday. Christmas is joyous, of course, but it's a prelude, and one that is theologically tempered. If you read through the texts of Christmas hymns and carols, you'll find that some of the less-popular-on-the-radio-station verses are rather bleak (some more modern, cheerful hymnals even leave them out). Take, for example, the second verse of "What Child is this?"
Growing up, I would say that Holy Week was one of the biggest weeks of the year (I was still a kid). Partly because I grew up the child of the church organist and the person in charge of decorating the church so I was there nearly everyday starting the day before Palm Sunday to strip the palms all the way through Easter. But also because it is a compelling narrative that the Church has been telling for centuries. During Holy Week we don't just read the accounts. We re-enact them to a greater or lesser extent.
On Palm Sunday the congregation plays the part of the crowd that welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem. We cry "Hosanna!" and sing hymns set to triumphal, often marching tunes. We wave palms and the organ plays at full blast.
But we know what is coming. Monday through Wednesday are spent in solitary preparation. There might be quiet preparations for Easter morning, but they are typically kept quiet.
Maundy Thursday exhibits the greatest variation I've seen among Churches. It commemorates the last meal Jesus had with his disciples before he was arrested and condemned to death, which became for Christians the sacrament of Communion. For some its a meditative service, with quiet hymns, prayer, perhaps a short homily, and of course communion. Others include 'maundy' or the rite of foot washing, something else Jesus gave to his disciples as a ritual that got lost (probably as it moved north where socks and boots were the norm instead of sandals). The services are beautiful, but also introspective. This is not to say that visitors aren't welcomed, but for many Christians these services are deeply personal.
Good Friday is a hard day. It's a holiday, in the sense that it is holy and in the sense that most people don't have to go to work on it, but it is also hard. Hard to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced it in its full, raw power and hard to go through. Whether its the stations of the cross, mentally walking with Jesus to his death, or Tenebrae going through the entire passion narrative with the congregation playing the part of the crowd who cries "Crucify!", it is a strange day that we put ourselves through. We meditate on the idea that we killed God, that the second person of the Trinity willingly walked into Death, paying the price our sinfulness, our brokenness, so we never have to. We leave the church in silence and darkness, the Bible closed, a single candle burning on the altar.
Holy Saturday is the quietest day in the church. Everyone who has to go in to make preparations for Sunday whispers. You try to walk quietly. The lights stay dim. Even though we all know what happened that first Easter, that Jesus isn't in that tomb again, we are still quiet, as though we mourn with the apostles.
Easter sunrise services are the most joyful thing I know of, whatever the variation. The one I can describe best is the one I grew up with. You enter the church in darkness and silence, praying and waiting. The pastor comes in through a door by the altar, and proclaims "Why do you look for the living among the dead? I tell you he is not here. He is risen!" and the lights go up and the organ roars to life in one of the many Easter Hymns. The litany of "He is risen!" "He is risen indeed, Alleluia!" tumbles from everyone's lips. Our sin may have been atoned for on Good Friday, but the empty tomb gives us hope and therefore joy.
Does all this sound insane? Sure. There's a reason St. Paul wrote that the message of the cross was foolishness in the eyes of the world (I Corinthians 1:18)--it is. Most self-aware Christians know this. We know we sound crazy. (We also know some of our traditions are good theatre). And we're ok with that. We can give reasons and offer some sort of explanation. But at the core, we know its not rational. We don't believe because of a Pascal's wager. We believe because, at some point, we've had a moment at the well, an encounter in the garden, whether subtle or bolt out of the blue or anywhere in between. And we believe.
Most people who didn't grow up in the church assume that Christmas is the biggest holiday for Christians. It's certainly the most visible and drawn out, the most easily co-opted and inviting of all our holidays (and we have a lot). It's warm and fuzzy and bright at the darkest time of year. The gift portion is certainly attractive to pretty much everyone. And it looks like our name! that's convenient.
But the reality is the Christmas is, at best, the second most important holiday. Holy Week and Easter, collectively known as Passiontide, is our most important holiday. Christmas is joyous, of course, but it's a prelude, and one that is theologically tempered. If you read through the texts of Christmas hymns and carols, you'll find that some of the less-popular-on-the-radio-station verses are rather bleak (some more modern, cheerful hymnals even leave them out). Take, for example, the second verse of "What Child is this?"
Why lies he in such mean estateThe whole point of Christmas, the arrival of God-made-flesh, is so that Good Friday may take place. Good Friday is rarely a service that draws in people from the outside, even though it is as well advertised with lawn signs. Who in their right mind wants to go sit in a darkened, quiet church and contemplate on their sins, the agony of death on the cross, and the [seeming] finality of death?
where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear: for sinners here
the silent Word is pleading.
Nails, spear shall pierce him through,
the cross be borne for me, for you;
hail, hail the Word made flesh,
the babe, the son of Mary.
Growing up, I would say that Holy Week was one of the biggest weeks of the year (I was still a kid). Partly because I grew up the child of the church organist and the person in charge of decorating the church so I was there nearly everyday starting the day before Palm Sunday to strip the palms all the way through Easter. But also because it is a compelling narrative that the Church has been telling for centuries. During Holy Week we don't just read the accounts. We re-enact them to a greater or lesser extent.
On Palm Sunday the congregation plays the part of the crowd that welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem. We cry "Hosanna!" and sing hymns set to triumphal, often marching tunes. We wave palms and the organ plays at full blast.
But we know what is coming. Monday through Wednesday are spent in solitary preparation. There might be quiet preparations for Easter morning, but they are typically kept quiet.
Maundy Thursday exhibits the greatest variation I've seen among Churches. It commemorates the last meal Jesus had with his disciples before he was arrested and condemned to death, which became for Christians the sacrament of Communion. For some its a meditative service, with quiet hymns, prayer, perhaps a short homily, and of course communion. Others include 'maundy' or the rite of foot washing, something else Jesus gave to his disciples as a ritual that got lost (probably as it moved north where socks and boots were the norm instead of sandals). The services are beautiful, but also introspective. This is not to say that visitors aren't welcomed, but for many Christians these services are deeply personal.
Good Friday is a hard day. It's a holiday, in the sense that it is holy and in the sense that most people don't have to go to work on it, but it is also hard. Hard to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced it in its full, raw power and hard to go through. Whether its the stations of the cross, mentally walking with Jesus to his death, or Tenebrae going through the entire passion narrative with the congregation playing the part of the crowd who cries "Crucify!", it is a strange day that we put ourselves through. We meditate on the idea that we killed God, that the second person of the Trinity willingly walked into Death, paying the price our sinfulness, our brokenness, so we never have to. We leave the church in silence and darkness, the Bible closed, a single candle burning on the altar.
Holy Saturday is the quietest day in the church. Everyone who has to go in to make preparations for Sunday whispers. You try to walk quietly. The lights stay dim. Even though we all know what happened that first Easter, that Jesus isn't in that tomb again, we are still quiet, as though we mourn with the apostles.
Easter sunrise services are the most joyful thing I know of, whatever the variation. The one I can describe best is the one I grew up with. You enter the church in darkness and silence, praying and waiting. The pastor comes in through a door by the altar, and proclaims "Why do you look for the living among the dead? I tell you he is not here. He is risen!" and the lights go up and the organ roars to life in one of the many Easter Hymns. The litany of "He is risen!" "He is risen indeed, Alleluia!" tumbles from everyone's lips. Our sin may have been atoned for on Good Friday, but the empty tomb gives us hope and therefore joy.
Does all this sound insane? Sure. There's a reason St. Paul wrote that the message of the cross was foolishness in the eyes of the world (I Corinthians 1:18)--it is. Most self-aware Christians know this. We know we sound crazy. (We also know some of our traditions are good theatre). And we're ok with that. We can give reasons and offer some sort of explanation. But at the core, we know its not rational. We don't believe because of a Pascal's wager. We believe because, at some point, we've had a moment at the well, an encounter in the garden, whether subtle or bolt out of the blue or anywhere in between. And we believe.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
The Waiting is the Worst Part...
Well, its down to the wire. In less than 24 hours it will be 75% over. I'll have crossed the Rubicon.
I taught my morning class today, which was a good thing because one of my students gave me the perfect opening to explain Maxwell's equations. Also, this group of students is not particularly shy. All my classes have asked what I did to my hand, this group got up the guts to ask, "So, did you know the pan was hot?" and comment on the duct tape. Engineers, and they aren't dependant on duct tape. What is this world coming to.
I got someone to cover my afternoon session, which was also good because it meant that I could come home and try to relax and drink Emergen-C, since I have a sneaking suspicion that I am coming down with something, and in usual form am putting it off until after the exam. This happens every time I have something big and stressful looming. Right after we closed on the house I came down with a wicked sinus infection. I'm just hoping I can maybe edge it out until after the oral portion as well.
I don't quite know what to do with myself. A part of me says 'study!' and another, I believe less panicky part, says if I don't know it now, I'm unlikely to learn it in the next 12 hours, and I should just relax and let my subconscious organize. I'll glance over some things in the morning, but nothing substantial is going to be learned now. I kinda wish I could just take it and get it over with. At this point I'm most worried by the fact that my fingers have started to regain some mostly pins and needles feeling. I'd rather not be suddenly feeling my burned fingers in the middle of explaining Young's Double Slit. Its not nearly as painful as when they were first burned, but it's enough to be distracting.
I know I know this stuff. I know that I have a lot of people praying for me. Now all I can do is pray and throw myself on the mercy of the Examining Committee.
I taught my morning class today, which was a good thing because one of my students gave me the perfect opening to explain Maxwell's equations. Also, this group of students is not particularly shy. All my classes have asked what I did to my hand, this group got up the guts to ask, "So, did you know the pan was hot?" and comment on the duct tape. Engineers, and they aren't dependant on duct tape. What is this world coming to.
I got someone to cover my afternoon session, which was also good because it meant that I could come home and try to relax and drink Emergen-C, since I have a sneaking suspicion that I am coming down with something, and in usual form am putting it off until after the exam. This happens every time I have something big and stressful looming. Right after we closed on the house I came down with a wicked sinus infection. I'm just hoping I can maybe edge it out until after the oral portion as well.
I don't quite know what to do with myself. A part of me says 'study!' and another, I believe less panicky part, says if I don't know it now, I'm unlikely to learn it in the next 12 hours, and I should just relax and let my subconscious organize. I'll glance over some things in the morning, but nothing substantial is going to be learned now. I kinda wish I could just take it and get it over with. At this point I'm most worried by the fact that my fingers have started to regain some mostly pins and needles feeling. I'd rather not be suddenly feeling my burned fingers in the middle of explaining Young's Double Slit. Its not nearly as painful as when they were first burned, but it's enough to be distracting.
I know I know this stuff. I know that I have a lot of people praying for me. Now all I can do is pray and throw myself on the mercy of the Examining Committee.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Why I'm not panicking about my Qualifier
It hit me yesterday as I tried to study with some of my classmates and fellow sufferers--they are all panicking, and I'm as close to zen as I ever am. They looked over old exams and were even more terrified and I was thinking "Yeah, I can answer at least one in each category" (which is all we need to do). I tried to figure it out last night, why I'm not more scared. I was a couple of weeks ago. I'm not more prepared than they are--some of them started studying last spring. I'm definitely not smarter, or find it all intuitive and easy. So why aren't I panicking?
Part of it is I know I have prayer warriors praying for me. Does that put knowledge in my head? No, but I know I knew all this stuff once, and I've been studying harder than I have for anything ever, and knowing that they are praying for me makes me feel calm, and therefore like this is something I can handle.
Weirdly, the fact that I burned my hand gives me confidence. Seriously, small bad incidents have preceded some of the best things in my life--like getting rear-ended a few days before my wedding. It's...anti-jinxing?
But as I was thinking about it and walking to teach this morning, I realized that being a grad student is at best a 4th order part of my identity. Being a human, a Christian and a wife all come way way before my identity as a grad student. My self worth is not determined by this exam. Moreover, I have two shots at this thing. If I don't pass this time, I'll be annoyed with myself, but better prepared for next time. Not that I want or intend to fail, but its just not the end of the world.
But my classmates? This is their identity. They have delayed developing almost every other aspect of their lives to get a PhD and this exam is basically all that stands in their way. Pretty much all their self-respect (and they think the respect of others) rides on passing this one.
Whatever the reason, I think I prefer not panicking. I don't think panicking has ever led to better test outcomes, so its a giant waste of energy. Now if I can just remember this for...everything else in life.
Part of it is I know I have prayer warriors praying for me. Does that put knowledge in my head? No, but I know I knew all this stuff once, and I've been studying harder than I have for anything ever, and knowing that they are praying for me makes me feel calm, and therefore like this is something I can handle.
Weirdly, the fact that I burned my hand gives me confidence. Seriously, small bad incidents have preceded some of the best things in my life--like getting rear-ended a few days before my wedding. It's...anti-jinxing?
But as I was thinking about it and walking to teach this morning, I realized that being a grad student is at best a 4th order part of my identity. Being a human, a Christian and a wife all come way way before my identity as a grad student. My self worth is not determined by this exam. Moreover, I have two shots at this thing. If I don't pass this time, I'll be annoyed with myself, but better prepared for next time. Not that I want or intend to fail, but its just not the end of the world.
But my classmates? This is their identity. They have delayed developing almost every other aspect of their lives to get a PhD and this exam is basically all that stands in their way. Pretty much all their self-respect (and they think the respect of others) rides on passing this one.
Whatever the reason, I think I prefer not panicking. I don't think panicking has ever led to better test outcomes, so its a giant waste of energy. Now if I can just remember this for...everything else in life.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
"But does she ever say a prayer for me?"
Sometimes God uses not-holy things to bring us to contemplating the holy. If He wants to he can even use a song that for the most part mocks His church.
I listen to so-called variety stations when I'm driving to reduce what my sister has accurately dubbed 'verbal road rage'. Drivers around here don't believe in blinkers, lights, or speed limits. And I don't just mean they speed. I mean they also go way under the limit. For the most part you learn the quirks of the drivers in your part of town, and learn be really careful for people turning. But on the highway I travel to get to school, it can be chaos near rush hours for all of the above reasons, plus mild congestion. If I am not singing along to something, I'll be loudly telling off my fellow drivers, even though they can't possibly hear me.
On the radio quite a bit of late is Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young", which is not a particularly wholesome song. Now, there is a whole post just waiting to be written on his claim that he'd rather "laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints/ the sinners are much more fun", but what's been nagging me is this stanza: "Said, your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation/ Aw, she never cared for me/ But did she ever say a prayer for me?"
There are two reasons why this has been bothering me. One, we are expressly commanded to pray for our enemies. Two, we have a really bad reputation, I have discovered, of not doing this or worse, doing it in a combative manner. One of the top links to 'pray for your enemies' in a Google search comes back "Praying for your enemies--how to slap them around with prayer!" Yes, internet, that's why we are commanded to pray for our enemies. So we can feel self righteous the next time they trip because that was God slapping them for us.
NO! Wrong! Wrong wrong wrongity wrong*! There are SO many reasons that we should pray for our enemies and absolutely none of them are revenge based. No, not even "vengeance is mine, sayeth the LORD" based. If the LORD wants to do some vengeance wreaking, that's His business and can be done in all wisdom and goodness.
Take a look at what Paul says we should be doing as those who have been saved.
Our lives as Christians were never supposed to be easy. The burden is easy and the yoke is light because we know where we are going. Whatever happens in this life, we will rest in the bosom of Christ. We will see the peaceful kingdom. In this life, we can take everything to God in prayer, and lay our burdens on Him. That doesn't mean we get to rest on our laurels now. We are still running the race, and part of that race is trying our best to do and be all the things listed above. When was the last time you tried to outdo someone in showing honor? When was the last time I blessed the person who cut me off in traffic, or the people who try to mock my faith? As a people, we are terrible about acting haughty. These days its being called holier-than-thou and its not a compliment.
None of this is to say I'm very good at this either. I'm argumentative, petty, anger prone, and I have the vocabulary of a sailor when I want to. But I'm trying. I have drastically cut down on the profanity in my daily speech. And I know I need to try harder. I need to be more zealous, more honorable, more noble, more generous. It's not an easy task, but its what Christ asks of us.
How can we tell Him who bore the full weight of our sins, who died a torturous death, and broke the gates of Hell for us that we won't even try to be the kindest, noblest, gentlest people on the planet the way He asks us to? Do we really want to face Him on Judgement Day and say it was too hard?
~PhysicsGal
Take a look at what Paul says we should be doing as those who have been saved.
Not that Christians have ever live up to bar that has been set for us, but I can't help but feel a lot of us aren't even trying anymore. "How can we show honor when the idea of honor has been discredited and discarded?", we simultaneously ask and excuse ourselves. "How can we do what is noble in the sight of all in these days of extreme relativism?" We have let the world tarnish those things we should be striving towards, and so tried to excuse ourselves from even trying, and let everything kinda slide too. How convenient of this world we are suppose to transform to have removed such a difficult goal.Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:9-21 NRSV)
Our lives as Christians were never supposed to be easy. The burden is easy and the yoke is light because we know where we are going. Whatever happens in this life, we will rest in the bosom of Christ. We will see the peaceful kingdom. In this life, we can take everything to God in prayer, and lay our burdens on Him. That doesn't mean we get to rest on our laurels now. We are still running the race, and part of that race is trying our best to do and be all the things listed above. When was the last time you tried to outdo someone in showing honor? When was the last time I blessed the person who cut me off in traffic, or the people who try to mock my faith? As a people, we are terrible about acting haughty. These days its being called holier-than-thou and its not a compliment.
None of this is to say I'm very good at this either. I'm argumentative, petty, anger prone, and I have the vocabulary of a sailor when I want to. But I'm trying. I have drastically cut down on the profanity in my daily speech. And I know I need to try harder. I need to be more zealous, more honorable, more noble, more generous. It's not an easy task, but its what Christ asks of us.
How can we tell Him who bore the full weight of our sins, who died a torturous death, and broke the gates of Hell for us that we won't even try to be the kindest, noblest, gentlest people on the planet the way He asks us to? Do we really want to face Him on Judgement Day and say it was too hard?
~PhysicsGal
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Lorica of St. Patrick, Part 1
To begin my series of meditations on the insights from the saints who have gone before, or historic Christianity if you want to be more academic, I thought I would start with the "Lorica of St. Patrick" or "St. Patrick's Breastplate" as it is more commonly known today. Two reasons for doing this. One, this is where my curiosity about historical Christianity was first piqued, so it seems a fitting starting point for deeper investigation. Two, starting with someone like Augustine, who has whole library departments devoted to studying him, was terrifying. And he probably deserves his own series if I am going to touch on him at all. This prayer/hymn is rather long as these things go, so I'm going to divide my study of it into two or three parts, depending on how the spirit leads, so to speak.
or, as Alexander phrases it
The writer seems to be a lot more comfortable talking about cherubim and angels than most Christians I know, including myself. Cherubim have gotten labeled as those stupid winged baby heads and angels have become synonymous with 'guardian angel' or sappy religious Hallmark cards. "Don't drive faster than your guardian angel can fly" and that pouty pastel child you see on baptism cards. Those things couldn't strike fear into the heart of the Cowardly Lion, pre Oz. This prayer isn't talking about these mythical things, more fairy than servant of the Most High. It's talking about an Angel of the LORD. The being that has to preface every human interaction with "Be not afraid". The creatures who hover at the throne of God and cover their faces. God's messengers and generals. Putti I wouldn't want to be caught dead with. The cherubim that Isaiah saw or the angels who lead the charge against the dragon in Revelation? Them I would be proud to bind myself to.
"Hope of Resurrection for Reward". "The sweet 'Well done' in judgment hour". Judgement Day. Dooms Day. The End of Days. Talking about the apocalypse is in right now, but its always the zombie apocalypse, the Mayan apocalypse, or some random dude with a calculator and selective reading ability's apocalypse. For the most part, Christians don't seem to like to talk about it these days. Too many wackadoodles. Too many awkward conversations. Apocalyptic literature reads, honestly, like a really weird acid trip. Eschatology is a field with a lot of good minds in it, but not one you're average Joe is going to dive into as a hobby.
Nevermind that for believers, its supposed to be a good thing. We will be raised in new, incorruptible bodies. We will see God, and we don't have to be afraid. We're washed in the blood of the Lamb, our transgressions have been blotted out. Judgement Day is when we get to hear "Good job." And afterwards comes the new heaven and new earth and that is going to be the most wonderful thing ever.
This prayer most likely not written by St. Patrick himself, as the first evidence for it is several centuries after he died. However, it does emphasize certain points for which St. Patrick was known and are attested to in his two surviving letters. For example, it begins and ends with emphasis on the triune nature of God, focuses on God's power to protect his faithful and his abiding presence with believers. It was written in an ancient Irish dialect, in the form of a lorica. A lorica was a type of incantation or spell used by druids to ward off evil, and means "breastplate" or armor. It begins with an invocation of the deity, followed by what you are invoking them for, ended with a reiteration of who you are talking to and with what authority. This prayer could be seen as a reclamation of the lorica from pagan hands for use as spiritual armor, such as Paul talks about.
Most people, if they are familiar with this prayer, are familiar with Cecil Frances Alexander's metricized and edited version known in hymn books as "I Bind Unto Myself Today" (incidentally, one of the few if not the only hymn set to two tunes in one setting). Alexander's version puts the prayer into iambic tetrameter, and eliminates verses 6 and 7. Both poems are rather long, so I will reproduce them as necessary, rather than in full. Both can be found in full on the The Order of St. Patrick's website.
The first thing you notice when reading through the texts is that it is a combination of catechism and prayer for protection and guidance . The first two verses in particular, while invoking God's power, lays out the foundation beliefs of Christianity: the Trinity, God as creator of all, Christ's birth, baptism, death, burial, resurrection, ascension and promised return for Judgement are all there in the first two verses. Its a good place to start. Alexander's version fleshes it out with more details ("His baptism in the Jordan River/ His death on the Cross for my salvation/ His bursting from the spiced tomb" vs "... his baptism,/ to the virtue of his crucifixion with his burial,/ to the virtue of his resurrection..."). If you were writing under the name of the man who helped convert Ireland, you'd probably want to start out with an emphasis on the Trinity and a catechism.
Catechisms and confessions of faith are kind of funny things these days. I've been to quite a number of churches that don't have any sort of confession of faith as part of their normal services. I've known upstanding members of congregations who could not recite the Apostles' Creed or explain why each phrase in there was important. Now, last post I wrote about relying more on the wisdom of God and less on the wisdom of man, but I can't help but think this falls under the category of wisdom of God. Christ knew his time was short. I seriously doubt he wasted his time. Shouldn't we be holding to our catechisms, which encapsulate the most fundamental of our beliefs and the entire story of salvation, like a life preserver? Not letting them fall by the wayside while we get distracted with petty side issues that do nothing to further the work we were set out to do.
The next verse concerns itself with aligning the speaker with both the heavenly host and that great cloud of witnesses.
I bind myself today to the virtue of ranks of Cherubim,
in obedience of Angels,
[in service of Archangels]
in hope of resurrection for reward,
in prayers of Patriarchs,
in preaching of Apostles,
in faiths of Confessors,
in innocence of Holy Virgins,
in deeds of righteous men.
or, as Alexander phrases it
I bind unto myself the powerThis verse is left out of many hymnal versions, either because the hymnal editors only allow five verses and this one is deemed less important, the weird scan of the second line or some other reason (I have heard one person object to the idea of virgin souls being purer). With the possible exception of hemming and hawing over the Holy Virgins, there's not much of a problem with the last five lines of the original verse. We might not emphasize the saints who have gone before, but its not like we don't talk about Moses or Peter or the martyrs or praise good deeds done. Why wouldn't we want to say "I stand with these people and by their good deeds"? Its the other verses I would like to focus on for the moment.
of the great love of cherubim;
the sweet "Well done" in judgment hour;
the service of the seraphim;
confessors' faith, apostles' word,
the patriarchs' prayers, the prophets' scrolls;
all good deeds done unto the Lord,
and purity of virgin souls.
The writer seems to be a lot more comfortable talking about cherubim and angels than most Christians I know, including myself. Cherubim have gotten labeled as those stupid winged baby heads and angels have become synonymous with 'guardian angel' or sappy religious Hallmark cards. "Don't drive faster than your guardian angel can fly" and that pouty pastel child you see on baptism cards. Those things couldn't strike fear into the heart of the Cowardly Lion, pre Oz. This prayer isn't talking about these mythical things, more fairy than servant of the Most High. It's talking about an Angel of the LORD. The being that has to preface every human interaction with "Be not afraid". The creatures who hover at the throne of God and cover their faces. God's messengers and generals. Putti I wouldn't want to be caught dead with. The cherubim that Isaiah saw or the angels who lead the charge against the dragon in Revelation? Them I would be proud to bind myself to.
"Hope of Resurrection for Reward". "The sweet 'Well done' in judgment hour". Judgement Day. Dooms Day. The End of Days. Talking about the apocalypse is in right now, but its always the zombie apocalypse, the Mayan apocalypse, or some random dude with a calculator and selective reading ability's apocalypse. For the most part, Christians don't seem to like to talk about it these days. Too many wackadoodles. Too many awkward conversations. Apocalyptic literature reads, honestly, like a really weird acid trip. Eschatology is a field with a lot of good minds in it, but not one you're average Joe is going to dive into as a hobby.
Nevermind that for believers, its supposed to be a good thing. We will be raised in new, incorruptible bodies. We will see God, and we don't have to be afraid. We're washed in the blood of the Lamb, our transgressions have been blotted out. Judgement Day is when we get to hear "Good job." And afterwards comes the new heaven and new earth and that is going to be the most wonderful thing ever.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Morning and Evening Sung Prayer: Update
Well, I did have to change evening songs. I couldn't get past the second verse of "Abide with me: Fast falls the eventide". I don't see that changing anytime soon, since "Amazing Grace" and "I heard the bells on Christmas Day" have been making me cry for years, and its only gotten worse the older I get.
In my search for evening hymns, I discovered a few things. One, there are a lot of them, and most of them have fallen out of disuse in recent years since fewer and fewer churches have evening services. Some of them have very weird texts. Some of them have beautiful texts. An oddly large number of them seem to have non-tunes or un-sing-ably thumpy tunes. A few seemed to be chants that they had tried to turn into hymns. And in modern hymnals, they all seem to be used for funerals or memorial services.
While I think that the primary reason these hymns have fallen out of disuse is primarily the lack of evening church and the dated-ness of a lot of them, I can't help but wonder if part of it is the shift in emphasis in the church. A lot of older hymns and prayers, particularly ones meant for use at the beginning and end of the day, have a focus on God's protection against a host of evils. Demons, sickness, ill intent of man, temptation and sin, accident. All these things were fair game.
Demons are definitely out of style these days. People aren't demon possessed, they are either mentally ill or evil (heavily leaning towards the former). There is no supernatural hand at work in natural evils either. Temptations come from within our own sinful psyches, not a demon whispering in our ear. To a large part I don't disagree. Biological disease, byproducts of a chaotic system, and our own sinfulness can account for much, if not all, things attributed to demons. But I can't help but wonder if we are losing something by saying in effect, "Sure, they had demons back then, but not in this day and age". There is probably somebody's masters or doctoral thesis on the loss of demons in our popular theology.
Sickness. We pray a lot for the sick. What church doesn't have a prayer list with the members of the congregation who are ill? But we don't seem to pray as much for protection against sickness ever happening in the first place. Is it because we think we can control it now? We understand germ theory, we wash our hands, sneeze into our sleeves, have good public sanitation. But we still get sick. Rogue germs, our own bodies turning on us, merest chance encounter with that one mosquito/rusty nail/cat scratch. We may not get sick over night with cholera, but we are still as vulnerable as ever, just to other things.
Ill intent of our fellow seems a really odd thing not to pray against these days, seeing as how one ill intentioned person can do so much more damage. Old days, you might get robbed, maybe stabbed, but the bad guys were limited in scope. These days, one person can kill thousands and be no where near them when it happens. Why exactly aren't we praying against this?
Accidents don't happen any less frequently. We aren't any less tempted. So what gives?
Reflecting on my own practice, discussions with other believers, popular books, I'm beginning to think that we are forgetting "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." More and more I hear God being used as a kind of supernatural therapist and happy pill. An adult security blanket. A lot of focus on God's love, not a lot on him as warrior, physician, protector, or anything else. Even His love seems to be getting kinda wishy washy in our popular mind. When was the last CCM song that talked about God being "my battleshield, sword for the fight"? Or even a mighty fortress? Do we think all that warrior talk is just for those primitive warrior types, not us sophisticated, civilized people? Do we really think we have any less war? Are we really buying into the progressive, humanist tripe that we can make the world good if we just try hard enough?
This has turned slightly more rant-ish than I had intended. But I think what started as a devotional exercise with hymns (and still is) has turned into a desire to read the writings of more of those saint who have gone before, a long time ago. Sure, some it wont be any good, but I have a suspicion that we may have thrown out the baby with the bathwater on some stuff.
In my search for evening hymns, I discovered a few things. One, there are a lot of them, and most of them have fallen out of disuse in recent years since fewer and fewer churches have evening services. Some of them have very weird texts. Some of them have beautiful texts. An oddly large number of them seem to have non-tunes or un-sing-ably thumpy tunes. A few seemed to be chants that they had tried to turn into hymns. And in modern hymnals, they all seem to be used for funerals or memorial services.
While I think that the primary reason these hymns have fallen out of disuse is primarily the lack of evening church and the dated-ness of a lot of them, I can't help but wonder if part of it is the shift in emphasis in the church. A lot of older hymns and prayers, particularly ones meant for use at the beginning and end of the day, have a focus on God's protection against a host of evils. Demons, sickness, ill intent of man, temptation and sin, accident. All these things were fair game.
Demons are definitely out of style these days. People aren't demon possessed, they are either mentally ill or evil (heavily leaning towards the former). There is no supernatural hand at work in natural evils either. Temptations come from within our own sinful psyches, not a demon whispering in our ear. To a large part I don't disagree. Biological disease, byproducts of a chaotic system, and our own sinfulness can account for much, if not all, things attributed to demons. But I can't help but wonder if we are losing something by saying in effect, "Sure, they had demons back then, but not in this day and age". There is probably somebody's masters or doctoral thesis on the loss of demons in our popular theology.
Sickness. We pray a lot for the sick. What church doesn't have a prayer list with the members of the congregation who are ill? But we don't seem to pray as much for protection against sickness ever happening in the first place. Is it because we think we can control it now? We understand germ theory, we wash our hands, sneeze into our sleeves, have good public sanitation. But we still get sick. Rogue germs, our own bodies turning on us, merest chance encounter with that one mosquito/rusty nail/cat scratch. We may not get sick over night with cholera, but we are still as vulnerable as ever, just to other things.
Ill intent of our fellow seems a really odd thing not to pray against these days, seeing as how one ill intentioned person can do so much more damage. Old days, you might get robbed, maybe stabbed, but the bad guys were limited in scope. These days, one person can kill thousands and be no where near them when it happens. Why exactly aren't we praying against this?
Accidents don't happen any less frequently. We aren't any less tempted. So what gives?
Reflecting on my own practice, discussions with other believers, popular books, I'm beginning to think that we are forgetting "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." More and more I hear God being used as a kind of supernatural therapist and happy pill. An adult security blanket. A lot of focus on God's love, not a lot on him as warrior, physician, protector, or anything else. Even His love seems to be getting kinda wishy washy in our popular mind. When was the last CCM song that talked about God being "my battleshield, sword for the fight"? Or even a mighty fortress? Do we think all that warrior talk is just for those primitive warrior types, not us sophisticated, civilized people? Do we really think we have any less war? Are we really buying into the progressive, humanist tripe that we can make the world good if we just try hard enough?
This has turned slightly more rant-ish than I had intended. But I think what started as a devotional exercise with hymns (and still is) has turned into a desire to read the writings of more of those saint who have gone before, a long time ago. Sure, some it wont be any good, but I have a suspicion that we may have thrown out the baby with the bathwater on some stuff.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Morning and Evening Sung Prayers
I have never been able to get into the habit of daily, prayerful contemplation. Everything else in my life is part of a routine. My morning routine I almost have down to the minute. I have a cup of Irish Breakfast tea every day at 10 am and 2 pm. I walk my dog on the same route four times a day.
Which is not to say I don't pray. I pray in the shower, when I'm doing dishes, when I'm walking the dog. Anytime my body is otherwise occupied. I used to pray before bed, but kept falling asleep before I would finish.
This has been bugging me for sometime. And I've tried different things. The closest I got was when I set myself to read the Bible from cover to cover sophomore year of college. Over the years I had read the Bible several times, just very piecemeal. I had a book of daily prayers influenced by Celtic Christianity which I like very much, but it was very short and didn't adjust for time of year. During Lent this past year I tried to take up the discipline of the Hours. But my graduate student schedule meant that I ended up reading several of the hours together, which seemed to defeat the purpose. And it felt weird not having anyone to do the call and response with.
So I've decided to start over, and take smaller steps, starting with something that I can learn to do any time, anywhere. I'll begin with morning and evening sung prayers, since music and lyrics have always had a habit of staying in my head well. I've picked "St. Patrick's Breastplate" for my morning prayer. It seems a good way to start the day, I already know the tune and about half the words. I like the idea of claiming God's power to protect me as I start out the day, probably because I am a worrier by nature. I'm starting out with "Abide with me: fast falls the eventide" for my evening prayer, but may have to change if I can't stop crying.
This may not sound like quiet contemplation, but its hard to get my mind to shut up. Doing something like this helps calm it down, temporarily. I'm hoping I can use this to work up to a time of actual extended contemplation.
If anyone is out there reading this, I would love to know how you manage to make time for this kind of thing. Not just physically, but mentally.
~PhysicsGal
Which is not to say I don't pray. I pray in the shower, when I'm doing dishes, when I'm walking the dog. Anytime my body is otherwise occupied. I used to pray before bed, but kept falling asleep before I would finish.
This has been bugging me for sometime. And I've tried different things. The closest I got was when I set myself to read the Bible from cover to cover sophomore year of college. Over the years I had read the Bible several times, just very piecemeal. I had a book of daily prayers influenced by Celtic Christianity which I like very much, but it was very short and didn't adjust for time of year. During Lent this past year I tried to take up the discipline of the Hours. But my graduate student schedule meant that I ended up reading several of the hours together, which seemed to defeat the purpose. And it felt weird not having anyone to do the call and response with.
So I've decided to start over, and take smaller steps, starting with something that I can learn to do any time, anywhere. I'll begin with morning and evening sung prayers, since music and lyrics have always had a habit of staying in my head well. I've picked "St. Patrick's Breastplate" for my morning prayer. It seems a good way to start the day, I already know the tune and about half the words. I like the idea of claiming God's power to protect me as I start out the day, probably because I am a worrier by nature. I'm starting out with "Abide with me: fast falls the eventide" for my evening prayer, but may have to change if I can't stop crying.
This may not sound like quiet contemplation, but its hard to get my mind to shut up. Doing something like this helps calm it down, temporarily. I'm hoping I can use this to work up to a time of actual extended contemplation.
If anyone is out there reading this, I would love to know how you manage to make time for this kind of thing. Not just physically, but mentally.
~PhysicsGal
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)