The Holy Name

Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus

"Kyrie Jesu Christe, Elaison...Learn it in Russian, learn it in Greek.  Say it.  Pep up your spiritual life with the Jesus Prayer in the various languages.  It's a fine prayer."
--Thomas Merton

I was happy to see this feast day on the calendar, as I've recently taken an interest in the "Jesus Prayer" that provides such an important foundation to spirituality in the Orthodox Church.  In particular, I've been reading Merton & Hesychasm: The Prayer of the Heart, and practicing the simple, repetitive prayer, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on my a sinner."  The prayer can modified and simplified even further. A friend meditatively prays, "Jesus" on his in-breath and "Mercy" on the outbreath.  Following Merton's advice, lately I've started praying the short version in Greek, "Kyrie Jesu Christe, Elaison."

"Hesychasm" means "stillness," representing the grace of inner calm and peace that often flows into the heart of one who perpetually invokes the name of Jesus.  This prayer is based on the notion that the name of the Lord, when called upon in faith, has the potential through grace to unleash enormous power in into the world both visible and invisible.  Orthodox Bishop Kallistos Ware explains:

The invocation of the divine Name possesses a sacramental character, serving as an efficacious sign of His invisible presence and action.  For the believing Christian today, as in apostolic times, the Name of Jesus is power.

While we typically associated the Jesus prayer with the Eastern Christian tradition, devotion to the Name has a long-standing importance in the Christian West as well.  Abbot Elias Dietz of the Abbey of Gethsemani reminded monks of St. Bernard's thoughts on the holy name during his chapter talk last weekend:

"O blessed name, oil poured out without limit. From heaven it pours down on Judea and from there over all the earth, so that round the whole world the Church proclaims: “Your name is oil poured out.” And what an outpouring? It not only bathes the heavens and the earth, it even bedews the underworld, so that all beings in the heavens, on earth and in the underworld should bend the knee in the name of Jesus. . ." (CS 15.4; CF 4:108)

As he goes on to say, the name of Jesus is both precious and cheap: precious for the depth of mystery and wealth of mercy it contains, cheap, because it is so accessible to us, even when we are at our weakest and worst:

"Hidden as in a vase, in this name of Jesus, you, my soul, possess a salutary remedy against which no spiritual illness will be proof. Carry it always close to your heart, always in your hand, and so ensure that all your affections, all your actions, are directed to Jesus. . . . The name of Jesus furnishes the power to correct your evil actions, to supply what is wanting to imperfect ones; in this name your affections find a guard against corruption, or if corrupted, a power that will make them whole again." (SC 15.7: CF 4:111)

The name of Christ is so accessible to us that we are free to use it in reference to ourselves:

"Made a sharer in the name, I share too in its inheritance. For I am a Christian, Christ’s own brother. If I am what I say, I am the heir of God, co-heir with Christ." (CS 15.4).

This is heavy - and beautiful -- stuff.  In my own prayer practice, I have often invoked the Jesus Prayer in times of panic and despair, or when I could not muster any other words.  But as I practice this prayer on a more regular basis - driving the car, walking to the office, waiting in line at the grocery - times of ordinary life, it becomes more like breathing.  And while I may not yet perceive Christ's presence with the clarity of St. Bernard, I feel a measure of hesychia - of stillness - that is his grace.

Kyrie Jesu Christe, Elaison!

Anti-establishment for the 21st century

Memorial of St. Lucy, Virgin and Martyr

"Thus says the LORD:
Woe to the city, rebellious and polluted,
to the tyrannical city!
She hears no voice,
accepts no correction;
In the LORD she has not trusted,
to her God she has not drawn near."
--Zephaniah 3:1-2

Today on the First Things blog, Anchoress Elizabeth Scalia reflects on the odd disdain so many people have for Denver Broncos quarterback and happy Christian Tim Tebow.  I was less interested in Scalia's specific comments about Tebow (who seems like a nice, likeable, humble, faith-filled fellow to me) and more in her thoughts about a culture that would treat such a guy like a freak.  Scalia excoriates contemporary culture for its fake allegiance to tolerance, cooperation, and the condemnation of self-interest:

If unselfishness, co-operation, and bare profits were truly prized by the narrative builders [of contemporary culture], then monasteries would be heralded as authentic models of the doctrine of “fairness” and practical solutions to our socio-economic dolors; people would be encouraged to dedicate their educations, their talents, and their monies to help grow and sustain them. Ditto for parish outreaches, faith-based job-training programs and soup kitchens; church-administered hospitals, substance abuse programs, and crisis pregnancy centers.

Scalia's point is that our culture is, in fact, the epitome of self-indulgence and hedonism.  If Tim Tebow is a freak in our culture, then the men and women who still answer the call to consecrated life in monasteries and religious orders and utterly alien to this world.

This generation obsessed with being different ought to consider the ultimate example of otherness - and learn from them.
Abba, convict us of our blind selfishness and hypocrisy.  Help us to learn from your saints, those of old and those who walk among us today, nearly invisible to the eyes of the world.  Amen.

Of Godly Men

Last night I finally had the awesome experience of watching Of Gods and Men, the critically-acclaimed French film featuring the true story of Trappist monks caught up in the religious violence of the mid-1990's Algeria Civil War.  Based closely on James Kiser's book, The Monks of Tribhirine, the movie describes how the eight monks, led by Dom Christian de Cherge, prayerfully struggle with how to respond to the escalating threat from Islamic extremists and their violent crusdade against foreigners and "infidels." 

The monks are frightened by the risks, but feel compelled to remain at their monastery, despite entreaties from the French government and local authorities to leave for their own safety.  The monks provide medical services and have close personal ties to the local Muslim population and are loathe to abandon them.  They fight to maintain neutrality between the corrupt government and the militant insurgents and are caught between both in an ever-increasing spiral of danger.

I don't want to give too much away if any readers aren't familiar with the story, but I did find this film to be extremely compelling and inspiring from a faith perspective.  The modern secularist will probably be puzzled by the monks seemingly suicidal decision to hold their ground, as will perhaps a lot of Christians.  But this is no story of religious fanaticism, but rather the story of having a moral purpose and in meeting one's commitments to others in faithfulness that some things in life are worth grave risks.  The world would do well to learn about the kind of love (Christ-imitating love) that leads one to give everything for another, even those who look differently and believe differently than one's self.

Indeed, Of Gods and Men is, in part, a statement of a love that transcends religious differences.  As the situation in Algeria deterioriated in December 1993, the real Dom Christian began to prepare for his own possibly martyrdom, and wrote a beautiful "Last Testament" describing his decision to stay.  The entire text, and a lovely discussion about it, is featured in this 2007 article for Spiritual Life.  De Cherge wrote, in conclusion, an a priori message to the man who might someday take his life:

The final words, in Arabic, are the classic Muslim conclusion to any statement of worth, "God willing."
 
Of Gods and Men is moving, awe-inspiring, and compelling for anyone, believer or no-believer alike.

And also you, the friend of my final moment, who would not be aware of what you were doing.
Yes, I also say this THANK YOU and this A-DIEU to you, in whom I see the face of God.
And may we find each other, happy good thieves, in Paradise, if it pleases God, the Father of us both. Amen. In sha ‘Allah.

The Gift of Silence

"After patient waiting, he obtained the promise."

--Hebrews 6:15

The Lay Cistercians of Gethsemani's Plan of Life includes four key elements (prayer, study, work, and conversatio, or "conversion of manners") based on the major charisms of the Cistercian tradition. Conversatio is further broken down into five virtues which represent the fruition of a life dedicated to a transformation of the human spirit in accord with God's will. The first of these virtues is silence.

According to the Plan of Life, "One should make a genuine effort to spend time in silence during the day. The amount of time will vary given one's availability. Silence will allow one to be more centered and to discover one's inner depths." As we know, silence is more than the lack of external noise. It is in inner state of mind, a kind of precondition for the experience of true contemplation.

It seems to me that silence plays three instrumental purposes in predisposing us to contemplation. First, silence clears away or mutes the filter of incessant distraction (both inward and outward) that prevents us from truly perceiving the world as it is. Silence opens our awareness to the wonder, beauty, and truth of nature and everyday experience, which we otherwise miss by our relentless activity and noise-making, and especially to the ideas, words, and needs of others. An attitude of inner silence should be the foundation of every conversation and encounter with others, since we only truly hear another and can effectively respond to another when we set aside the endless babble of our own opinions, prejudices, and desires.

Second, silence prepares us to hear the deep stirrings of our own heart. Much of our outward activity and our inner mental commentary is meant to distract us from the soul's deepest fears, dreams, and desires. Practicing silence means that we honor the full range of our experience, including listening to these oft-ignored or neglected dimensions. By hearing our own heart more clearly, we can identify and address our true needs.

And finally, with an enhanced attitude of listening to others, to the world around us, and to our deepest selves, silence also opens us up to hearing the voice of God, the way God is challenging us, wooing us, drawing us to God's self. Often, it is actually through nature and through the voices of others that we hear God's voice, and so by opening up to one of these instrumental purposes of silence, we open up to them all.

I do work at meeting the challenge of silence by starting my day with time for prayer and quiet reflection. These times are important, but quiet is not always silence. One thing I need to work on is nurturing an attitude of listening during this time. And the bigger challenge is maintaining an open, silent heart as I proceed through my day. This must be St. Paul's call to "pray without ceasing," and probably constitutes the next frontier of God's work within me.