Saturday, June 09, 2018
Yes, pray it even there
It seems our Celtic monastic ancestors were a bit squeamish about praying in the latrine, believing them to be haunts of devils and evil spirits. The ancient Rule of the Céli Dé prescribed that the only prayer a monk might say therein was the Adjutorium. "O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me." On reading this, I asked myself what it might mean. Comparing what I know of monastic prayer around the world, it seems most reasonable to me that the Adjutorium was a constant prayer for these monks, and so even while in the jakes it was permitted; it was not reasonable to ask a monk to stop at any time.
Two kinds of Christianity
Very broadly speaking, there are two kinds of Christianity.
1. Christ died on the Cross so I don't have to. God's job is to make my existence happy.
2. Christians are baptized into Christ's death and are called upon to live Christ lives here and now, not escaping suffering but making it holy and productive.
I believe that type 1 is not valid. It is childish (not childlike) and unloving, and therefore is the antithesis of what baptism is all about.
1. Christ died on the Cross so I don't have to. God's job is to make my existence happy.
2. Christians are baptized into Christ's death and are called upon to live Christ lives here and now, not escaping suffering but making it holy and productive.
I believe that type 1 is not valid. It is childish (not childlike) and unloving, and therefore is the antithesis of what baptism is all about.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Adjutorium - first, a disclaimer
Mchiha aka ; ʽAminjjate aka. (Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! in Aramaic.)
The only person who has any real business writing about continual prayer is the person who prays continually. I am not that person. With less absoluteness, I also say that the only person with any real business writing about ancient Celtic Christian practices is the scholar of the subject. I am not that person. So I confess to having no business writing about the ancient Celtic Christian practice of continual prayer. But I have not read anything about it elsewhere. I may be the only person available to write about it. You, the reader, undoubtedly deserve better than me. The subject deserves better. But if I am the best there is, then I will undertake the job with trepidation and prayer. Please pray for me.
I have a little intellectual knowledge of both subjects to bring to the task, and some (though far less) experience. However, I believe that I have something exciting and heretofore unheard of to say. I hope it profits you.
In Christ the risen Lord,
Fr. Sean
The only person who has any real business writing about continual prayer is the person who prays continually. I am not that person. With less absoluteness, I also say that the only person with any real business writing about ancient Celtic Christian practices is the scholar of the subject. I am not that person. So I confess to having no business writing about the ancient Celtic Christian practice of continual prayer. But I have not read anything about it elsewhere. I may be the only person available to write about it. You, the reader, undoubtedly deserve better than me. The subject deserves better. But if I am the best there is, then I will undertake the job with trepidation and prayer. Please pray for me.
I have a little intellectual knowledge of both subjects to bring to the task, and some (though far less) experience. However, I believe that I have something exciting and heretofore unheard of to say. I hope it profits you.
In Christ the risen Lord,
Fr. Sean
Monday, April 13, 2009
Christ is risen! Crist aras! Al'Masiah qam! Christus resurrectus est!
He is truly risen! And if you want to be a real Easter geek, you can go to Pascha Polyglotta and learn how to say it in 250 different languages! There are even sound recordings for many of the versions! Even Vulcan!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Eucharistic theories
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Four years ago, poor-blogger left a comment on this blog asking what I think about various theories used to explain the miracle of the Holy Eucharist (e.g. transubstantiation). Maybe it's about time to answer that question.
As a Celtic Catholic and as me, I simply can not elevate a theory to the level of doctrine. All I can say for sure is all I can know for sure: God performs a mighty miracle with the bread and wine, with me, with the congregation. A mighty miracle he does, a mighty miracle I receive. I know that Jesus is right when he says, "This is my Body, my Blood." I just don't know how it works. He never said. The Holy Spirit never inspired the undivided Church with an explanation. It is tempting (and, maybe, humanly necessary) to create tantalizing and plausible-sounding theories to explain the mechanics of the miracle. But they must always be acknowledged to be mere human theories. My long thinking on the subject leads me to say that they are in fact analogies. They are not Truth; they are attempts to picture and explain the Truth. The Truth itself is simply that God performs a mighty miracle.
Concerning the theory or analogy of transubstantiation itself, it worries me in one way. It says that in transforming the bread and wine, God changes their substance, their real nature, to the substance of the Body and Blood of Christ. The substance of earthly food is removed. Eek! This means that to transform the species of bread and wine, God must destroy them. I believe that all theology must hang together, and must relate to salvation. Is it true, then, that to save me, to transform me, to heal me, God must destroy me? Must he remove my human nature, my Sean nature? If the Holy Eucharist has salvific meaning to me, it must be, among other things, a picture of how God creates in me the image of his Son. If he needs to destroy and replace, I don't see that it helps me much. If I'm destroyed, I'm gone. Frankly, I want God to work with my haman-ness, my Sean-ness. I want him to transform me, not replace me. I want him to transform the bread and wine, not destroy it. And glory be, he does! He does in a way I can never imagine or articulate.
Four years ago, poor-blogger left a comment on this blog asking what I think about various theories used to explain the miracle of the Holy Eucharist (e.g. transubstantiation). Maybe it's about time to answer that question.
As a Celtic Catholic and as me, I simply can not elevate a theory to the level of doctrine. All I can say for sure is all I can know for sure: God performs a mighty miracle with the bread and wine, with me, with the congregation. A mighty miracle he does, a mighty miracle I receive. I know that Jesus is right when he says, "This is my Body, my Blood." I just don't know how it works. He never said. The Holy Spirit never inspired the undivided Church with an explanation. It is tempting (and, maybe, humanly necessary) to create tantalizing and plausible-sounding theories to explain the mechanics of the miracle. But they must always be acknowledged to be mere human theories. My long thinking on the subject leads me to say that they are in fact analogies. They are not Truth; they are attempts to picture and explain the Truth. The Truth itself is simply that God performs a mighty miracle.
Concerning the theory or analogy of transubstantiation itself, it worries me in one way. It says that in transforming the bread and wine, God changes their substance, their real nature, to the substance of the Body and Blood of Christ. The substance of earthly food is removed. Eek! This means that to transform the species of bread and wine, God must destroy them. I believe that all theology must hang together, and must relate to salvation. Is it true, then, that to save me, to transform me, to heal me, God must destroy me? Must he remove my human nature, my Sean nature? If the Holy Eucharist has salvific meaning to me, it must be, among other things, a picture of how God creates in me the image of his Son. If he needs to destroy and replace, I don't see that it helps me much. If I'm destroyed, I'm gone. Frankly, I want God to work with my haman-ness, my Sean-ness. I want him to transform me, not replace me. I want him to transform the bread and wine, not destroy it. And glory be, he does! He does in a way I can never imagine or articulate.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Hello to you, whoever you be.
I've been practically dancing with joy since the vigil. Christ is risen! I have missed saying "Alleluia!" Great Lent was not a chore for me this year, it was not dismal, but it was a definite change. The joy was put into a closet for a while, and I had not realized how much I missed it until the Vigil. I am appreciating the wisdom of traditional Christian practices more and more each year. One can never forget the Resurrection, of course, not even during Holy Week. But to put it in abeyance, to wait for it, to focus on other things for a time, makes the joy all the greater. Christ is risen! Yee-hah! The Lord is risen indeed! Yippee skippee!
All day Holy Saturday, as I was practicing the chants for the vigil, I kept encountering "the A word." Normally, when it crops up in practicing I substitute "ah-ah-ah-ah" for it. (We take the not saying of Alleluia during Lent very seriously.) But yesterday I could hardly contain myself. I felt like a little kid on Christmas Eve with the tree surrounded by presents. For-me presents! I wanted to shout out that word so loudly. At the vigil, I did. I shouted.
We had two baptisms, boys seven and nine years old. The seven year old was asleep for almost the entire service. He practically had to be propped up to be baptized. And he didn't get his first communion, since he was un-wakable. I suppose I could have pried his mouth open and shoved the Sacred Body of our Lord down his throat, and we could have poured the Life-giving Blood down his gullet via a funnel, but that seemed to lack a certain something. Oh well, next Sunday he will receive communion and the bells will ring as he does so and it will be a little touch of glory all over again. (When the newly baptized receive communion for the first time, the sanctus bells trill just as they do during the Epiclesis. The Holy Spirit is entering the person in a particular way for the first time.)
That's it for now.
Alleluia!
Christ is risen!
-- Fr. Sean
Hello to you, whoever you be.
I've been practically dancing with joy since the vigil. Christ is risen! I have missed saying "Alleluia!" Great Lent was not a chore for me this year, it was not dismal, but it was a definite change. The joy was put into a closet for a while, and I had not realized how much I missed it until the Vigil. I am appreciating the wisdom of traditional Christian practices more and more each year. One can never forget the Resurrection, of course, not even during Holy Week. But to put it in abeyance, to wait for it, to focus on other things for a time, makes the joy all the greater. Christ is risen! Yee-hah! The Lord is risen indeed! Yippee skippee!
All day Holy Saturday, as I was practicing the chants for the vigil, I kept encountering "the A word." Normally, when it crops up in practicing I substitute "ah-ah-ah-ah" for it. (We take the not saying of Alleluia during Lent very seriously.) But yesterday I could hardly contain myself. I felt like a little kid on Christmas Eve with the tree surrounded by presents. For-me presents! I wanted to shout out that word so loudly. At the vigil, I did. I shouted.
We had two baptisms, boys seven and nine years old. The seven year old was asleep for almost the entire service. He practically had to be propped up to be baptized. And he didn't get his first communion, since he was un-wakable. I suppose I could have pried his mouth open and shoved the Sacred Body of our Lord down his throat, and we could have poured the Life-giving Blood down his gullet via a funnel, but that seemed to lack a certain something. Oh well, next Sunday he will receive communion and the bells will ring as he does so and it will be a little touch of glory all over again. (When the newly baptized receive communion for the first time, the sanctus bells trill just as they do during the Epiclesis. The Holy Spirit is entering the person in a particular way for the first time.)
That's it for now.
Alleluia!
Christ is risen!
-- Fr. Sean
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Quiz thingy: What model of Church?
You scored as Sacrament model. Your model of the church is Sacrament. The church is the effective sign of the revelation that is the person of Jesus Christ. Christians are transformed by Christ and then become a beacon of Christ wherever they go. This model has a remarkable capacity for integrating other models of the church.
What is your model of the church? [Dulles] created with QuizFarm.com |
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Left handed is bad
Most people are obviously right handed. This is easy to prove. Just round up 100 random people (or randomly round up 100 people; the people themselves do not necessarily have to be random), and count how many are right handed and how many claim to be left handed. You will find that about 90% are right handed and only 10% claim to be left handed. Now this proves that God meant humans to be right handed. The 10% are freaks. Actually, they are not left handed at all, but are really right handed folk who have gone bad in some way. Some chose to become left handed; some were perverted in childhood (probably by their parents). Even though it is clear that God does not approve of left handedness, we must remember to love the sinner but hate the sin. Love the poor misguided idiots enough to remind them always that they are freaks and have no place on God's green earth. If you just let them go on thinking it is OK to be left handed, you really hate them. That is what misguided liberals do. They let left handed people think that they are acceptable. They cater to them, by making left handed scissors. This is an abomination!
You want further proof that lefties are wrong? Consider the facts. (reliable website proof) Lefties are more likely to have accidents; more likely to lose a finger to heavy machinery (count those fingers!); more likely to get sick because their immune systems are perverted and do not work so well; more likely to have allergies because their immune systems are perverted and overcompensate; more likely to wet their beds (parents, watch your children!) (and check out that man ahead of you in line buying Depends®) ; more likely to be depressed. Most Muppets® are left handed (check it out). If that doesn't prove something is wrong with it, I don't know what does. All of this proves that it is a perversion.
Me? I'm right handed, thank God. Right handed and gay.
You want further proof that lefties are wrong? Consider the facts. (reliable website proof) Lefties are more likely to have accidents; more likely to lose a finger to heavy machinery (count those fingers!); more likely to get sick because their immune systems are perverted and do not work so well; more likely to have allergies because their immune systems are perverted and overcompensate; more likely to wet their beds (parents, watch your children!) (and check out that man ahead of you in line buying Depends®) ; more likely to be depressed. Most Muppets® are left handed (check it out). If that doesn't prove something is wrong with it, I don't know what does. All of this proves that it is a perversion.
Me? I'm right handed, thank God. Right handed and gay.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Sarah McLachlan - World On Fire
Sarah McLachlan - World On Fire
If you need help thinking about how we allocate our resources in a hungry and needy world.
If you need help thinking about how we allocate our resources in a hungry and needy world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)