Monday, April 13, 2009
A Collect for Easter
O God, who for our redemption gave your only-begotten Son to the death of the cross, and by his glorious resurrection delivered us from the power of our enemy: Grant us so to die daily to sin, that we may evermore live with him in the joy of his resurrection; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
"Careless" words
Last Tuesday evening in our study of the gospel of Matthew we were struck by Jesus' words to the Pharisees who were flinging words at him, attacking him verbally by accusing him of being demonically inspired and empowered:
"on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak" (ESV, Matthew 12:36).
That word, careless, is "argon" in the Greek, which is "ergon" (= "work") + the privative "a" (= absence, removal, or loss of quality or attribute normally present). So, while careless is a fine translation, the idea is bigger than just being kind of flighty or an unthinking chatterbox - it speaks of "unproductive" and "unfruitful" (cf. v. 33) words.
We agreed to pray for each other, to try to be mindful (careful) in our speaking. We reminded each other of the spiritual discipline of silence, and of guarding our hearts - for that's really where our words come from.
I go into that because this morning (Monday of Easter week) the appointed gospel is John 14:1-14, and I noted and was thinking about this verse, where Jesus is telling the disciples that he is in the Father and the Father is in him and so they have seen the Father and they know the way to the Father:
"The words the I say to you I do not speak on my own authority, but the Father who dwells in me does his works." (John 14:10).
What an amazing thought. I think Jesus is saying that the words that he speaks are works of the Father. Those would not be "unproductive" or "unfruitful" or careless words!
Let it be so in us, Lord.
"O Lord, so dwell in us, you who live and reign in victory; so work in us, in our minds and in our wills, that we may speak only what you are working in and through us, for life, for wholeness, fruitful, productive work that will last forever in your kingdom."
"on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak" (ESV, Matthew 12:36).
That word, careless, is "argon" in the Greek, which is "ergon" (= "work") + the privative "a" (= absence, removal, or loss of quality or attribute normally present). So, while careless is a fine translation, the idea is bigger than just being kind of flighty or an unthinking chatterbox - it speaks of "unproductive" and "unfruitful" (cf. v. 33) words.
We agreed to pray for each other, to try to be mindful (careful) in our speaking. We reminded each other of the spiritual discipline of silence, and of guarding our hearts - for that's really where our words come from.
I go into that because this morning (Monday of Easter week) the appointed gospel is John 14:1-14, and I noted and was thinking about this verse, where Jesus is telling the disciples that he is in the Father and the Father is in him and so they have seen the Father and they know the way to the Father:
"The words the I say to you I do not speak on my own authority, but the Father who dwells in me does his works." (John 14:10).
What an amazing thought. I think Jesus is saying that the words that he speaks are works of the Father. Those would not be "unproductive" or "unfruitful" or careless words!
Let it be so in us, Lord.
"O Lord, so dwell in us, you who live and reign in victory; so work in us, in our minds and in our wills, that we may speak only what you are working in and through us, for life, for wholeness, fruitful, productive work that will last forever in your kingdom."
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Memory & liturgy
I think I missed this discussion in seminary, or I didn't get it - because somewhere way back in my mind there is the "memory" that we did cover this in a Sacramental Theology class. But I love this! It's from Great Lent, by Alexander Schmemann. (Italics are his)
"What then is the meaning of the liturgical today by which the Church inaugurates all her celebrations? In what sense are past events celebrated today?
"One can say without exaggeration that the whole life of the Church is one continuous commemoration and remembrance. At the end of each service we refer to the saints "whose memory we celebrate," but behind all memories, the Church is the remembrance of Christ. From a purely natural point of view, memory is an ambiguous faculty. Thus to remember someone whom we love and whom we lost means two things. On the one hand memory is much more than mere knowledge of the past. When I remember my late father, I see him; he is present in my memory not as a sum total of all that I know about him but in all his living reality. Yet, on the other hand, it is this very presence that makes me feel acutely that he is no longer here, that never again in this world and in this life shall I touch this hand which I so vividly see in my memory. Memory is thus the most wonderful and at the same time the most tragic of all human faculties, for nothing reveals better the broken nature of our life, the impossibility for man truly to keep, truly to possess anything in this world. Memory reveals to us that "time and death reign on earth." But it is precisely because of this uniquely human function of memory that Christianity is also centered on it, for it consists primarily in remembering one Man, one Event, one Night, in the depth and darkness of which we were told: "... do this in remembrance of me." And lo, the miracle takes place! We remember Him and He is here - not as a nostalgic image of the past, not as a sad "never more," but with such intensity of presence that the Church can eternally repeat what the disciples said after Emmaus: "... did not our hearts burn within us?" (Luke 24:32).
"Natural memory is first of all a "presence of the absent," so that the more he whom we remember is present, the more acute is the pain of his absence. But in Christ, memory has become again the power to fill the time broken by sin and death, by hatred and forgetfulness. And it is this new memory as power over time and its brokenness which is at the heart of the liturgical celbration, of the liturgical today..." (pp. 81-82)
"What then is the meaning of the liturgical today by which the Church inaugurates all her celebrations? In what sense are past events celebrated today?
"One can say without exaggeration that the whole life of the Church is one continuous commemoration and remembrance. At the end of each service we refer to the saints "whose memory we celebrate," but behind all memories, the Church is the remembrance of Christ. From a purely natural point of view, memory is an ambiguous faculty. Thus to remember someone whom we love and whom we lost means two things. On the one hand memory is much more than mere knowledge of the past. When I remember my late father, I see him; he is present in my memory not as a sum total of all that I know about him but in all his living reality. Yet, on the other hand, it is this very presence that makes me feel acutely that he is no longer here, that never again in this world and in this life shall I touch this hand which I so vividly see in my memory. Memory is thus the most wonderful and at the same time the most tragic of all human faculties, for nothing reveals better the broken nature of our life, the impossibility for man truly to keep, truly to possess anything in this world. Memory reveals to us that "time and death reign on earth." But it is precisely because of this uniquely human function of memory that Christianity is also centered on it, for it consists primarily in remembering one Man, one Event, one Night, in the depth and darkness of which we were told: "... do this in remembrance of me." And lo, the miracle takes place! We remember Him and He is here - not as a nostalgic image of the past, not as a sad "never more," but with such intensity of presence that the Church can eternally repeat what the disciples said after Emmaus: "... did not our hearts burn within us?" (Luke 24:32).
"Natural memory is first of all a "presence of the absent," so that the more he whom we remember is present, the more acute is the pain of his absence. But in Christ, memory has become again the power to fill the time broken by sin and death, by hatred and forgetfulness. And it is this new memory as power over time and its brokenness which is at the heart of the liturgical celbration, of the liturgical today..." (pp. 81-82)
Friday, February 27, 2009
fasting
Fasting is about repentance and change. The triad of spiritual disciplines we heard on Ash Wednesday - giving to those in need, praying, and fasting - were considered in Jesus' day, a way back to God (that's right, all together, a way - not three alternative ways...). As I noted in "The Restoration Project," Jesus wasn't saying if you can't fast rightly don't worry about it (Matthew 6). He was saying, yes, observe the fasts, and do so with all your heart. Seek God in it, to meet your Father, and engage him and know him, that your Father may truly be your reward. I found this reference to fasting from one the early church fathers:
Fasting is the change of every part of our life, because the sacrifice of the fast is not the abstinence but the distancing from sins. Therefore, whoever limits the fast to the deprivation of food, he is the one who, in reality, abhors and ridicules the fast.
(John Chrystostom)
text of Fasting sermon by John Chrystostom
Fasting is the change of every part of our life, because the sacrifice of the fast is not the abstinence but the distancing from sins. Therefore, whoever limits the fast to the deprivation of food, he is the one who, in reality, abhors and ridicules the fast.
(John Chrystostom)
text of Fasting sermon by John Chrystostom
a lenten prayer
The Lenten Prayer of St. Ephrem the Syrian
I've finally (after probably six years since Julia Babb gave it to me) I have begun reading Great Lent: Journey to Pascha by Alexander Schmemann. A couple of years ago Jason Campbell, a pastor at Trinity Vineyard (our son Mark's church in Atlanta) also asked me about it and was very positive about it.
Here's a prayer the Orthodox pray in Lent, it is read twice a day, with prostrations. Schmemann says it could be called the lenten prayer.
O Lord, and Master of my life!
Take from me the spirit of sloth,
faint-heartedness, lust of power, and idle talk.
But give rather the spirit of chastity,
humility, patience, and love to Thy servant.
Yes, O Lord and King!
Grant me to see my own errors
and not to judge my brother;
For thou art blessed unto age of ages. Amen.
I've finally (after probably six years since Julia Babb gave it to me) I have begun reading Great Lent: Journey to Pascha by Alexander Schmemann. A couple of years ago Jason Campbell, a pastor at Trinity Vineyard (our son Mark's church in Atlanta) also asked me about it and was very positive about it.
Here's a prayer the Orthodox pray in Lent, it is read twice a day, with prostrations. Schmemann says it could be called the lenten prayer.
O Lord, and Master of my life!
Take from me the spirit of sloth,
faint-heartedness, lust of power, and idle talk.
But give rather the spirit of chastity,
humility, patience, and love to Thy servant.
Yes, O Lord and King!
Grant me to see my own errors
and not to judge my brother;
For thou art blessed unto age of ages. Amen.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
These buildings are the main part of our new "campus."
The building on the right (top picture) is the main hall, where our classrooms and fellowship hall are. We will be worshipping in the fellowship hall for a while.
The two on the left (immediately above) are first the administrative building, and the one beyond is the pavillion.
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