felix hominum

reminders of hope

From this morning's daily office readings.  A reminder.

The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all round them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, ‘Mortal, can these bones live?’ I answered, ‘O Lord God, you know.’ Then he said to me, ‘Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.’

Ezekiel 37

"self-actualization"

Of all the things I'd like to be,
holy is at the top of the list.

prayers for Dawson College, Montreal

After a shooting spree today which saw 4 people die and more than a dozen injured.

HT Bene, who has more extensive coverage.

connect to the live video(CBC) feed from this page.

later reports have revised casualty numbers.

review: The Divine Hours (Prayers for Summertime)

A friend recalls the initial chaos when their first child arrived.  Nothing was organized and life was upside down, until in desperation he called upon the wisest person for help.  His mother arrived, surveyed the situation, and gave him a piece of advice.

"What you need right now", she said, "is some kind of routine, so you can enjoy being parents."

Sometimes having a routine of sorts actually frees us to enjoy.  One of the most consistent routines in the tradition of Christianity, and beyond us into our Jewish roots, is the practice of praying at regular intervals over the course of the day.  In her book The Divine Hours: Prayers for Summertime, Phyllis Tickle has organized a bit of a beginner's manual for regular daily prayer.

After a brief but good introduction to the history of "fixed hour prayer", Tickle gets right into the substance of the practice.  The book is subtitled Prayers for Summertime, and is designed for daily use for the season.  While the history of the divine hours includes 7 "offices", based on the Psalmist's call to praise God seven times a day, The Divine Hours follows the contemporary practice in many places of having 4 daily times of prayer:  the morning office, midday, vespers (early evening) and compline (before sleep).  In each of these patterns of prayer she has followed the tradition of drawing heavily from the Psalms as a way of "shaping" our life of prayer, and has included readings from Scripture, set prayers drawn from a variety of Christian authors and sources, as well as modifications of prayers from the liturgical traditions of the Roman Catholic and Anglican worlds.

You can see a sample of her structure for daily prayer here;  it is built around the principles of simplicity and ease of use.  The variety of readings and prayers is combined with a fixed order and the regular use of such things as the Lord's Prayer and the Gloria.  In the Vespers office she has included a selection of hymns from a wide variety of Christian hymnody, which may be sung, or read as poetic verse.  Like the rhythm of the seasons, or, to quote Paul Simon, the rhythm of the saints, this way of praying brings one into a rhythm of prayer in which life revolves around prayer, rather than the other way around.  It is a way of grounding ourselves amidst busy-ness and distractions.

In my own pilgrimage, I've been using the daily offices from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer for quite some time, so the practice of "divine hours" is not new to me.  For others, perhaps from less liturgical traditions (or none at all) the idea of regular, set prayers might raise the spectre of horrible ball and chain pharisee-ism.  I think this book is an excellent introduction to the whole practice, and a way of entering into the wisdom of the Church beyond our generation.  It will not be for everyone, but if you find yourself looking for a practice that frees you to enjoy your time of prayer, or if you find yourself called to something other than the prayers of the just  - "we just pray, Lord, that you just be with us, Lord just show us, we just ask"  (with apologies to my friend M.S.) then I would encourage you to give this a try.

Seven times a day do I praise thee
Psalm 119: 164

 

sol cafe this sunday

this sunday we will be looking at luke 18: 9-14 - the parable of the pharisee and the tax collector praying.  there's a bit of background here and here.

the pharisee and the tax collector

Luke 18: 9-14

9] He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:

[10]  ‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. [11]  The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. [12]  I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.”

[13]  But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” [14]  I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’

A little while ago I was intrigued by the posture of the Pharisee - how he could be in the midst of the temple and yet be "standing by himself".  But what about the tax collector?  I am confronted with the picture of someone praying far off from the temple, and yet his prayer is heard, and answered.

In a way this little detail raises a few basic questions.  Is the Kingdom bigger than "the temple"?  Or, to re-cast the question, is the Kingdom bigger than what we generally think of as "the church"?  I suppose that yesterday, as Christians gathered in their various places of worship for the Sabbath, there were still a few tax collectors who were "standing far off" from the precincts of the temple. 

I'm just sayin'.   Is our picture of the kingdom too small?

the peace of jerusalem

I took Tim's advice and extended it a bit.  He refrained from posting on the Middle East and just devoted the time to prayer instead.  I think I'll do the same.

a few stray flowers
rising up from the ruins of the Second Temple

inside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher

bullet marks on house, Old City, Jerusalem

and my flagship image,
taken shortly after a sort of mild riot kind of thing
in which we found ourselves.

I think it says a lot

pick a prayer, any prayer

I've been looking at the contrasting prayers of the Pharisee and the tax collector, (Matt 18:9-14).  There is one thing I noticed at the beginning of the Pharisee's prayer:

The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus...

He comes to the temple and has no desire to be part of the fellowship of the people of God.  His time at the temple, his prayer, his religion, is a matter for himself alone.  He neither needs nor is interested in needing, the rest of the community of believers.

I think it is all too easy to imitate the Pharisee's position - "by himself" - no desire to really connect with anyone else in the temple, a certain sense of personal distance leads to a personal sense of self confidence.  You can be part of a "church" and yet find yourself "praying alone".   I wonder what influence this initial positioning, this "standing by himself", had on the rest of his prayer.

 

have your kids ever caught you at it?

It's late in the evening, and you think you have a little bit of private time all to yourselves.  The last time you checked the kids were all asleep.  And so you begin.  Sometimes it has seemed lately that there just hasn't been enough time, or energy, or even desire for this as there was in the early years.  And trying to do it with a 5 week old semi-sleeping next to you, well, you get the picture.

You start, and it takes some warm up time because there is so much on your minds.  Finally, the peace, the space,  and then - because your minds are focused elsewhere, you didn't even hear the small footsteps creeping down the hallway.  Before you know it 3 kids have stumbled into the room, and caught you in the act.  And there the two of you are -  praying.

Have your kids ever caught you at it?

how I hope I am being shaped

I think one of the first times I met the then future Mrs Felix she was singing in tongues or something like that.  It might be said that we still have our own personal flavours...be that all as it may.   The impetus for this brief reflection was a conversation over at the sol cafe.

This is only a partial answer to a series of questions, but in general, what are some of the ways in which I believe God has and is shaping me? This is a rather technical sort of post - blah, blah blah yes there is all that most important stuff about people and community, but the reality of those things is hidden perhaps by the language of what I'm trying to relate.

Well, speaking of formation, the ways in which I trust God has shaped me are found in what the Anglicans call a "rule of life" - sort of a personal and yet corporate kind of Christian formation. The center of my spiritual formation is the practice of "daily offices" - an old monastic tradition of prayer and Scripture reading at various times of the day. I was introduced to it about 23 years ago.

We are essentially formed by God's choice to live and act in us through his Spirit. This is one way that I believe God has done this with me. I open up the floor for others to join in and tell how they believe/trust/suspect that God shapes and forms them, if they even see that as part of whatever is happening...

The goal? purpose? achievable spiritual commodity outcome of a rule of life is to be shaped by the various ways I/we trust that God wants and intends to shape us. So from my liturgical Anglican spirituality, here is an outline taken from the Book of Common Prayer:

Every Christian man or woman should from time to time frame for himself a RULE OF LIFE in accordance with the precepts of the Gospel and the faith and order of the Church; wherein he may consider the following:

The regularity of his attendance at public worship and especially at the holy Communion.
The practice of private prayer, Bible-reading, and self-discipline.
Bringing the teaching and example of Christ into his everyday life.
The boldness of his spoken witness to his faith in Christ.
His personal service to the Church and the community.
The offering of money according to his means for the support of the work of the Church at home and overseas.

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At some point I want to delve into the topic of prayer a bit more, and this is just a start. 

"Lord teach us to pray";  how has he taught you?

a prayer request

For Mrs Felix Hominum  - otherwise known as Alisa, and for baby number 4.   After our last medical consultations, we are having a C section this Friday at 10 am.   It is rather sudden, but this appears to be the most prudent choice for Mom & baby.   Your prayers for a safe delivery for Alisa & baby would be appreciated.

on the prayers of children and fools

I believe I have unconsciously assumed that the prayers of children are not taken seriously by God.   I have tended to look upon children praying as a pleasant and somewhat romantic ("aren't they adorable") display of a kind of spirituality-lite which will hopefully grow up, mature, and blossom into full fledged Christian devotion.  Their prayer will be taken seriously when they can present their prayer with the full faculties of adulthood, or at least the painful angst of late adolescence.

I believe I am quite mistaken.

bad news...

I just ran across this bit of info about a Canadian officer in Afghanistan, who was attacked during a tribal meeting.

A Canadian military officer believed an ancient code of honour would protect himself and his colleagues when they sat down for a routine tribal meeting in an Afghan village.
But after witnessing an axe-wielding assailant attack his fellow officer, he feels he has been proven wrong.
Capt. Kevin Schamuhn says his faith in the unwritten rule of the shura, that a guest must be welcomed and protected, has been corrupted.
"Everything I've been taught about Islam, everything I've been taught about the Pashtun code of honour, has just completely been defiled in a horrifying way," Schamuhn told CTV's Lisa LaFlamme in Afghanistan.
Lt. Trevor Greene was conducting a shura, a meeting with village elders meant to promote peace, when a teenager pulled an axe from his coat and struck him in the head.  

Trevor & I had a few great evenings at the officers' mess here in Edmonton, Alberta.   I've known him for quite a while.  He & I pillaged a schooner in Halifax harbour many years ago (the file on that one is closed).   We come from different worlds/worldviews in a number of ways.   My prayers are with him.

There's a big thread over at GenXat40 - a blog by fellow King's grad Alan McLeod.   Many of the alum are gravitating there to post their thoughts.

on offering choices to God

sameo has a post which provoked a simple reflection - how I tend to offer God choices when I pray, hoping that He will pick the correct one.   This is much easier than submitting completely and saying "thy will be done".   How my prayer is limited by my own imagination and vision.   I can only conceive of God as doing thus or thus, and so those are the poor choices I offer Him, either aloud or in the silence of my heart.

prayer & fasting

There is a difference between 'going without' and fasting, 
just as there is a difference between gluttony and feasting.

bored & distracted

Well, it took me almost an hour and a half to get through my routine of morning prayer today.   I must say that there  are any number of times when the practice of prayer is much less exciting and focused than the stuff in the Christian bookstores says it should be.

But that's okay.   It's not always exciting doing the dishes, but I do them anyway, because I love the people I eat with, and because we'll need clean plates tomorrow as well.   It's not always exciting changing diapers, but I do it anyway, because, well - you can guess any number of reasons.   It would be marvelous if every time I prayed, or read Scripture, or engaged in some form of worship or service, I was deeply moved and richly rewarded in some measurable way.  But that just ain't the case.

Somehow this brings me back to the theme of our International Week here at the U of A:  "human rights".   Help me out on this.  What exactly is a "right"?  (tangent in the making)

I have not thought very much in terms of human "rights";  I have more thought in terms of human  - there is no exact word - "obligations", or "duties".   The problem with these last two words is that they seem very cold, as if there can be no love attached if something is an obligation, or a duty, or a discipline.  Yet Jesus combines what seem like contradictory terms - we are commanded  to  love.

homesickness

I sometimes wonder if Christians ever get affected by homesickness.  I mean, a longing for the place (or better yet the Person) who is our true home.  Not a sense of "I wish I were in heaven", but a sense that we belong in the Father's House, that God is our true home, and somewhere inside there is a stirring, a stretching, to reach it.

Home.

christian ministry at the university of alberta...

Just had a great conversation & coffee with Scott from the U of A Navigators , and we chatted a bit about our various plans for campus ministry in the upcoming year here at the old U of A.  One of the things that seems to be coming back to me is prayer.   Part of being away for the last few weeks has given me a chance to rethink and pray about the various things I "do" as part of the various "Christian programming" on campus.   And while there is a necessary place for activities and programs of all sorts in campus ministry, I sense that God is continually calling me to more and deeper prayer.   Not sure where this is going,  but I want to spend more time in prayer for our campus, our residences, our faculty, ourselves.

There are some great Christian ministries at the U of A  (a few links on the sidebar, I'll add some more for the locals as the terms gears up).   

Pray.
Pray.
Pray.

one last look...

this has been the view from my office window over the last week or so...

on recognizing Jesus in the storm

Healings & boats & nor’westers

Yesterday we had a conversation around “Jesus as Healer” at Sol Café.  It’s part of our continuing journey through the gospel of Matthew.  It is a topic that is rather close to my heart, as some of you who know me are aware.   Who is this Healer, how does he heal? 

It has been said that we Christians have a great “theology” of healing.  Pray, have faith, trust in this good Father God who wants only the best for his children.  The Scriptures are full of the miracles of Jesus. 

It has also been said that we have a lousy “theology” of not being healed. 

When we first found out that our daughter SJ had a number of “issues”, “difficulties” (or whatever other euphemism you want to use), we prayed for healing.  We asked others to pray for healing.  It didn't’t come.  There were any number of bits of “Christian advice” on the topic we received from different well meaning folks.  Let me recount just a few, as a bit of a model of what not to do if you are trying to help:

1]  “Just pray Jabez”.  I’m not kidding – I actually had one person tell me that the whole thing would be fine if I would just pray the prayer of Jabez into the situation.  Not sure exactly what that was about.  I suppose it is about “Magic” – with the right formula of words we can cast a spell on God and force him to act the way we want. 

2}  “Have more faith”.  Those who are dealing with sickness, disease and death do not need the added pressure of having the “quantity of their faith” measured and declared insufficient for the purposes at hand.  It also removes grace from healing – making healing dependent upon the number of litres of faith I happen to have, and if I need more faith, somehow I can just top up my spiritual engine with a few quarts of high grade at a whim.

The threads weaving together in my mind are also tied up with yesterday’s reading about Jesus and Peter and the storm and walking on water.  I spent a number of years on the East Coast of Canada;  I’ve done a bit of sailing.  I’ve been out there when the sea turns rough and the spray begins to blow and the visibility grows shorter by the minute.  You wonder why the disciples cried out in terror when they saw Jesus walking on the sea?   He was not walking on a calm little pond in someone’s backyard – he was walking on swells, in spray and mist in the dead of night. I’ve seen a storm or two on the water, and I’ve seen the sea on which He walked.

It is hard to recognize Jesus in the dead of night, in the midst of the storm, when the waves are chopping and the boat itself is barely a place of “safety”. The boat is a place of frantic activity – doing all you can to keep going, turning the bow into the waves at 90 degrees so you can cut through the chop; every shift of wind wants to turn you broadside – with the threat of capsizing.

It’s hard to recognize Jesus in the storm.

Morning Prayer

My daily routine since college days has been to pray the "daily office" from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer.  I first really got into it as a daily discipline at my alma mater.  There was a college chapel, and students would come together for morning and evening prayer (more would show up for Communion on Thursdays, which was followed by "sherry hour").   It was a great setting in which to experience prayer and worship - the flow, the rhythm of scripture, the sense of community.

I have carried that practice for many years now, although lately it has shifted in its flow and rhythm.   So this morning, sitting on the sofa with 3 kids, trying to alternately pray and read and translate and do a bit of story telling about the scripture readings for the day, and getting juice, and changing a diaper, and telling someone to share, and trying to get everyone to shout "the Lord's name be praised"  every time I said "praise ye the Lord'".

I have a secret to share.

Praying with your kids is fun.

Adam's return (a parable)

(Once upon a time, we lived in a garden.)

Worked in the garden until dark tonight.

It seems that every spring I pull the same weeds.   I know exactly which ones will be there.   The same species, the same variety, keep popping up year after year in the same spot.  Perhaps I will spend the rest of my days pulling up the same weeds.  Some years they seem to be better, some years they seem to be worse.   They are, if nothing else, persistent.

I learned from an old gardener that the secret is not to spend all my energy pulling the weeds.  Instead, I must spend more time on making the good plants more healthy.  Eventually, they will begin to shade out the seedlings of the weeds, and that is how the garden will grow into what it is supposed to be.

(And God placed the man in the garden, to tend and keep it.)

prayers for Chris

I ask your prayers for Fr. Chris, one of our priests from a rural community, who was involved in a very serious car accident.  He was airlifted to the U of A hospital, and has undergone multiple surgeries.

mourning...

Sunday afternoon at the sol café we touched on some recent events.  We talked about James Roszko  the man who killed the 4 RCMP officers, and himself.  We talked about how easy it is to love those who love us, to admire those who live and die honorably, to join in the mourning for the officers.  And it is right so to do.  It is tragic.

We wondered who mourns for James, and whether or not our love could extend to mourn for him, for his family.

self-examination

This lent I examine my sins.

I am profoundly jealous of people who write poetry. 

I love to read it;
to eat the fruit of those who plant words.

Once, I tried
to write such things,
but ended up like
Peter, rethinking baptism.
(do I journey as the crow flies
as the cock crows?)

listening for sounds of water, laying on my bed
and he is gone (or was it I who fled?)
thinking on the rain that falls outside.
Suddenly again I am a rock upon the river
and know in time, his washing-over-me
will shape and carve this stone.
Looking up from underneath
it seems to me transluscent now.
through it
I can see the sky
and almost touch
the heavens.

words

Craig Romkema lives with his family in a log house in the Midwest. He types his poems on a computer, with physical support to stabilize his body. After graduating from high school with honors, Craig spent a year writing, and is now attending college part-time.

In this collection of poems, Craig Romkema describes the daily journey of an individual whose body is encumbered with the symptoms of autism and cerebral palsy.

Alisa is using Craig's poems to teach her grace 12 English class about words.

Encounter

“Answer!”
I told my mouth
but the message
froze,
while seconds dragged into minutes
and the restless woman
said fast
goodbyes
swiftly dashing
assumptions of
intelligence
behind her.

Words are
power;
speechlessness,
an endless abyss;
garbled speech,
a target for dishonor;
persistent rotten storytelling,
a huge annoyance;
boring tapes that demean my image.

You whose language flows
coherently,
whose ideas sparkle like wine
on the tongue,
remember your gift
and use it well,
for me.

From the collection "Embracing the Sky:  Poems Beyond Disability" .

signs & wonders & speaking in tongues

Recently at one of our L'arche  worship gatherings, we came to the point in the service when we extended an invitation to all those present to offer their prayers silently or aloud.  Many of us who are Christian are familiar with the various styles of prayer that make there way around.  Those of us who are of the evangelical/charismatic bent have a certain vocabulary.  There is what a friend of mine calls the prayers of the just.  “We just pray, Lord, that you just bless us, and just help us to just come before you and just be your people…”  Then for those of us of a more liturgical bent there are the obligatory phrases and responses and forms of address.  “The Lord be with you.  Let us pray.  Almighty God our Heavenly Father, we give thanks and praise unto Your name for the inestimable benefits and mercies bestowed upon us…”  There are many ways that Christians pray – we each have a particular kind of speech and vocabulary that make up our conversation with God.  I know for myself I am so often conscious of how others “hear me” when I am praying, particularly if I am “leading” prayer.  Can they hear me clearly?  Do the words of my prayer effectively communicate what is intended?  Do the listeners have ample opportunity to enter into my prayer and so give their ‘amen’ when I am finished? Is it a “good” prayer?

When the core members of the L’arche community began to offer their prayers, there were some who offered simple and child like prayers.  Then I heard kinds of prayer I do not often hear in church.  Some spoke not at all, but moved their bodies, or simply breathed in a different way.  Others made gestures.  There were a few bits of sign language that I picked up.  Still others spoke in broken, halting phrases that were impossible for me to understand or decipher.  Some would make a soft sound, others would utter what must have been cries from deep within.  Sometimes I would catch a word or a name, but mostly it was incomprehensible to me.  It was prayer that I did not understand.  I did not understand the “words”, I did not understand what was being “said”.  But at the same time I did.  The wonder of deep calling to deep, in a language understood only by God.  Deep within the soul of the humble and broken and un-clever people is a cry to God.  Incomprehensible to many (if not all) around them. But heard and understood and answered by the One who loves them. 

I do not think there is anything sentimental or romantic in all of this.  I believe these pray-ers struggle to communicate – as we do.  I have watched the frustration of Sarah Joy as she tries in vain to tell us something that we don’t understand.  It can be painful.  I believe we all share the frustration of our human way of communication that limits what we can say and how we can say it;  no less for ‘them’ than for ‘us’.  We all need the Holy Spirit to help us to pray.  I’m not sure what I learned from these prayers, or how I was changed by them, or how they moved me,  but when our time of prayer came to a close,  I said Amen. 

Signs and wonders and speaking in tongues…

L'arche worships together on the 1st &3rd Monday of the month

to answer a question

“The joys of Heaven are, for most of us in our present condition, ‘an acquired taste’.”

OK, so someone asked “What exactly does that mean?” I’m not sure this will be exact, but in a nutshell, it means that we do not naturally enjoy the same things God enjoys.  First and foremost, God enjoys his own company.  How much do we enjoy God’s company?  I mean really enjoy God’s company.  Simply being in the Presence, not because of what God does for me, or how God helps me,  but because God is God?  Sounds strange to say that we do not enjoy God, but I at least find myself enjoying what God does for me, rather than simply delighting in who God is.  There is a difference.

Secondly, we do not naturally love doing the things God loves to do.  We do not naturally love giving of ourselves.  We do not take sheer delight in serving the needs of others.  We do not find ourselves itching to sacrifice ourselves for the good of an other.  We do not delight in being “other-centred”.   God does.  It is a taste we must acquire if we are to be joyful in heaven.  When we “get there” we might discover that perhaps the most joyful thing we are expected to do is to put others ahead of ourselves, to forgive our enemies, and to delight in mercy upon those who have offended us – to imitate Jesus.

thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven...

the hidden joy of longing

It’s now two days until Christmas, but it’s still Advent.  Is there any virtue in waiting?  We were talking last night about how different the seasons of Lent/Easter are from Advent/Christmas.  It’s as if we need the labour pains of a Good Friday in order to fully grasp the nativity of Jesus.  As the day gets nearer, all sense of Advent seems to disappear.  All the sense of waiting for the unexpected presence of God dwindles away.  We know the day and the hour of his appearing.

Why wait?  What virtue is there in waiting?  It seems much of our culture is filled with the “I can’t wait” syndrome. We see this in a lot of the passages from youth to adulthood – I can’t wait to get my license; I can’t wait to get drunk for the first time, I can’t wait to have sex.  The list goes on.  I can’t wait til I graduate; I can’t wait til I get a job, I can’t wait til I retire.

What is behind all of this?

We have lost the hidden joy of longing. 

We think of it as simply waiting, as if lined up behind so many others who will get it before us.   The Song of Solomon gives us a picture of longing.  Not simply waiting, but longing, yearning, aching for a love – a communion - that is not yet complete.

I am trying to cultivate that sense of longing in my prayer this Advent.  Longing for a communion that is not yet complete.  Advent is supposed to remind me that, despite my calendar marking December 25, I do not know the day and hour of His appearing.  And so in the mean time I learn to stretch my desire forward.  Leaning with all my might toward that which I do not yet have (but know that I will) and toward that which I am not yet (but one day will be). 

Waiting for birth.

The hidden joy of longing.

a brief theology of the eucharist

"you are what you eat"