“Belief Perseverance,” San Bernardino, and Our Sinfulness (eCrozier #282)

On December 4, 2015, in Benedictine, grace, sin, Spiritual Disciplines, Violence, by bishopbenhase

According to new research reported on NPR, people who are experts in a particular field tend to become rigid and unwilling to consider alternative points of view related to their area of study. This is even true for people who aren’t really experts at all, but were helped to feel they were by the study researchers. They, too, became more rigid in their thinking about their field of “expertise” and became less likely to consider different points of view from their own. This is related to what’s known as “belief perseverance,“ the tendency to stay with a particular belief even though the body of evidence suggests one should reconsider. It’s also related to “confirmation bias” when one only interprets, favors, or recalls information that supports one’s already held conviction.

When I read such studies, I usually ask myself if such conclusions ring true from my own life experience and in my observation of how others seem to behave. In this case, boy does it ever. You see, I like to think of myself as an expert on many things. Maybe you do, too? Whether it’s Anglican theology, baseball game management, the deficiencies of mid-century modern architecture, or the tragedy of Mark Richt’s firing as the head football coach at UGA, I have an “expert” opinion. When I’m honest with myself, however, I have to admit I’m not an expert on any of those subjects. But part of me wants to believe I am. It seems we’re wired for such a tendency. I do have beliefs and views about each of the examples I listed. In some, I have more learned beliefs than in others, but truth demands my honesty. I’m not an expert in any.

And that brings us to yet another mass shooting this week, this time in San Bernadino. I can’t understand why we as a society are doing nothing substantial to curb the wide availability of assault-style automatic weapons, which are clearly designed to kill lots of people quickly. It’s seems obvious to me what needs to be done: we need to get all these assault weapons out of the hands of all but the law enforcement community. Is it my “belief perseverance” that leads me to that conclusion? Do I have “confirmation bias” in that I’m failing to seriously consider alternative points of view from my own when it comes to this kind of gun violence? I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure. I try to listen to opposing views on this subject, but none of them makes any sense to me.

This is all part of our human sinfulness. We want to believe that our views and beliefs are superior to others; that our judgment on things is more insightful. I know my own tendency when another person challenges some belief I hold. Rather than consistently exercising Benedictine obedentia and listening deeply to what they say, I sometimes ignore them as they speak and begin to formulate a rebuttal to their position. Such spiritually immature behavior is the norm for all of us unless we discipline ourselves to respond differently. I’m working on developing more spiritual discipline in all this.

Resting in the grace of Jesus gives us the courage for such disciplining of our immature reactivity. If we trust that God has reconciled the world through the cross of Christ, then when our beliefs or views are challenged, we don’t need to react to somehow prove that our convictions are superior to others. We don’t have to “prove” anything.

+Scott

 
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The Story of Fr Neville (eCrozier #265)

On May 29, 2015, in Anglicanism, discipleship, Rule of Life, Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

Our Anglican tradition provides us with tried and tested practices that, if lived into, profoundly shape our discipleship. These spiritual practices, or disciplines, are specifically enumerated in what’s often called a Rule of Life. Such a Rule provides coherence and shape to our daily lives. The consistency created by a Rule creates space for us to rest in God, to listen in obedience to God’s word for us, and thus to be open to the continual conversion of our life so it may be lived, as St Paul says, “not for ourselves, but for Christ Jesus.” So variety, novelty, and surprise aren’t helpful in a Rule. They’re the last things we need. When such things don’t distract us, we have the capacity and space to listen to God, which is a needful thing if we’re to live as disciples of Jesus.

My friend, Fr Ken Leech, loved to tell the story of Fr Neville who was a long-serving chaplain at a theological college in England. Fr Neville was quite committed to his Rule of Life and its spiritual discipline. His Rule shaped the whole of his life and ministry. He was much loved by the college’s students and faculty for his gentle demeanor and good humor. While they found him to be a bit of an “odd duck,” they cherished and valued his witness to them of a life given over to God. Every afternoon, part of Fr Neville’s daily spiritual practice was to take a nap from 2 pm to 4 pm. Regardless of what was going on in his life, in the life of the college, or in the life of the world, at 2 pm he’d stop whatever he was doing, retire to his quarters, and take that nap.

One morning, the dean of the college received an urgent message that the bishop of the diocese needed to see him that very afternoon. This presented the dean with a dilemma. He was hosting a visiting bishop from Africa and this bishop was scheduled to speak and then to lead a symposium for the entire student body and faculty that afternoon. The dean couldn’t stand up the bishop (hear, hear!), so he went to Fr Neville and asked him to host the visiting bishop for the rest of the day, introduce him at the symposium, and close the gathering with prayer. This visiting bishop was scheduled to speak at 2 pm.

Fr Neville readily agreed to stand in for the dean. The dean, much relieved, made plans for his trip to the bishop’s office. That day after lunch, Fr Neville met with the visiting bishop, and after a good visit during which they became acquainted, he escorted him to the auditorium for the symposium. Fr Neville welcomed the students and faculty, gave a warm and thoughtful introduction of the esteemed visiting bishop, and as the bishop came to the podium, Fr Neville quietly excused himself and went to his quarters to take his nap. He arose, as was his custom, at 4 pm and returned to the auditorium just in time for the symposium to conclude. He stepped to podium, thanked the visiting bishop for an outstanding presentation, and closed the symposium with a prayer.

While I’ve always found this story “laugh out loud funny,” I’ve also appreciated what it’s taught me about my own spiritual practice. As Jesus helped Martha see in Luke 10: 40-42: We are “worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.” Jesus knows us better than we know ourselves, doesn’t he? A Rule of Life helps us all to create the capacity to choose what Jesus clearly called “the better part.”

+Scott

 
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The Inextricable Bond of Spirituality & Justice (eCrozier #253)

On March 6, 2015, in Community, culture, Death Penalty, discipleship, gospel, Justice, mission, Piety, Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple. – John 2:15

We’re more accustomed to a different Jesus, aren’t we? The Sunday School image of Jesus as the gentle good shepherd carrying a baby lamb on his shoulders still resonates with us. So when Jesus takes a whip and clears the temple, we’re taken aback. His action doesn’t fit our Sunday School image. But maybe such an image is mistaken? Some believe Christians should never get angry because Jesus never did. Well, he did. There’s nothing wrong with anger when it’s directed toward pursuing justice for God’s children.

We shouldn’t sit idly by while people suffer injustice. In fact, I’d say that if we’re not angered by injustice, then we’re not being faithful to the Gospel. It’s anger with injustice that leads us to confront the sin of racism. It’s anger with state-sponsored vengeance murder that compels us to end capital punishment. It’s anger with our society’s indifference to homeless people that leads us to work for safe housing for everyone. We should be angry when we see God’s creation polluted or God’s people brutalized.

Some of us, however, have adopted an insular spirituality. Pursuing spirituality is very popular these days. People want to become more spiritual. But much of what is called being “spiritual” has no basis in the Bible. Biblically speaking, there’s no separation between our spiritual connection to God and our pursuit of justice for God’s people. The Great Commandment sums this up: Jesus says that loving God and loving our neighbor go hand in hand. We can’t love one without also loving the other. And we can’t love our neighbors without seeking justice for them. It’s just not biblically possible.

But that’s what some people do. They’re just interested in their spiritual growth as if such growth can be separated from justice. The Bible claims a wholeness of spirituality and justice, of prayer and action, of contemplation and its inextricable connection to God’s justice. If we wish to be spiritual, we should help a child learn to read. If we wish to be spiritual, we should help a hungry person find the food they need. If we wish to be spiritual, we should rebuke that colleague when he makes a racist or homophobic joke.

Yet, working for justice will be rudderless and random if it’s not grounded in the faith of the Church, for that’s where we learn how to order our lives so we’ll avoid a superficial spirituality or a definition of justice that simply mirrors a political party at prayer.

The pursuit of God’s justice needs to begin with our own self-examination and fearless personal inventory. Before we can point our finger at anybody else, we need to point the finger at ourselves and allow our anger to motivate us to change how we live. We must admit that in some ways we’re no different than the buyers and the sellers Jesus confronted in the temple. When our lives in the Church are turned over by Jesus the same way he turned over the temple tables, then we’ll begin to learn to be the Church. Then we will live holistic lives where our spirituality isn’t disconnected from seeking justice for God’s children.

+Scott

 
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St. Benedict’s Guide to Lent (eCrozier #252)

On February 27, 2015, in Benedictine, grace, Lent, Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

During these days (of Lent), therefore, let us add something to the usual measure of our service, such as private prayers and abstinence from food and drink, that each one, of his own free will and with the joy of the Holy Spirit, may offer God something over and above the measure appointed for him. That is to say, let him deny himself some food, drink, sleep, pointless conversation and banter, and look forward to Easter with joy and spiritual longing. Rule of St Benedict 49

Part of a traditional Lenten discipline is to deny ourselves something we usually enjoy during the rest of the year. It’s one way for us to remember gratefully the “great denial” Jesus made on our behalf; for he denied himself and took up the cross for our sake. Benedict’s admonition from his Rule reminds us that we shouldn’t do this out of obligation, but out of our “joy and spiritual longing” for Easter. So, we don’t engage in self-denial to prove anything to our self or to others. We don’t do so to impress God or others. And we certainly don’t do so for the purpose of self-justification, which is always a dangerous path to travel. Benedict reminds us there’s a telos to this Lenten discipline and it is joy, the root of that word being, God (“to enjoy” is literally to be “in God”).

I don’t know about you, but I find it easier to deny myself some things more than others. While I enjoy good food and drink, I don’t miss it much when I don’t have it. I’m pretty pedestrian in my tastes and my palate is hardly that of a gourmand. So, for me to give up chocolate or single malt scotch (of which I’m unworthy anyway) or some other delicacy may appear like an act of self-denial to some, but to me, since I could take it or leave it, it’s hardly what Benedict had in mind. When we make such non-denial denials, it’s for the sake of appearances to others and not for a true Lenten discipline.

But, “pointless conversation and banter” hits me closer to the bone. Denying myself that is much harder. Thus, it’s a more needed act of denial on my part. Maybe more than any other vocation in the Church, a bishop regularly engages in “pointless conversation and banter” whether he or she desires to or not. That’s not to say with we don’t participate in “pointed conversation.” Of course we do, hopefully more often than not. But the temptation to deflect or to ignore or to trivialize rather than to get to the heart and truth of the matter is always there. Like with many temptations, such behaviors are a way to run away from one’s true self and the vocation to which I’m called.

Lent then can serve as an invitation for us to get back to the heart and truth of the matter in our lives; to recognize how we might be too serious about the trivial banter in our lives and not be taking seriously enough the people, things, and circumstances of our lives that matter. This is what Benedict meant by stability in the three-fold promise Benedictine monk’s make; that capacity to hang in there when the temptation is to run away from what’s difficult, or to deflect the issue by “pointless conversation,” or to trivialize ourselves or others. Such self-awareness comes as a gift even though it’s often hard to receive. Yet, if we accept the gift for what it is, then we enter into a place where the ground is holy and where we open ourselves daily to the thrust of grace.

+Scott

 
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Labradors, Sheep, and our Need for Spiritual Disciplines (eCrozier #220)

On May 9, 2014, in Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

Jon Katz in his delightful book, Running to the Mountain, tells of his midlife crisis. He didn’t belong to any faith tradition (he was born Jewish), but he was experiencing a spiritual longing to which he wanted to respond. So, he decided to buy a cabin on top of a remote mountain in upstate New York, live there, and find what he was looking for, or at least do his best to do so. To do this, he had to leave his (clearly quite supportive) wife, teenaged daughter, and his home in suburban New Jersey. He “ran” to the mountain with the collected works of the monk, Thomas Merton, and his two Labrador Retrievers, Julius and Stanley.

The mountaintop experience turned out to be far more challenging than he had imagined it would. He dealt with a bitter, cold winter, battled a mice infestation in his cabin, and struggled with personal isolation. He also discovered a truth about his dogs. He’d always thought that Stanley & Julius had been well trained. In suburbia they were models of obedience. He could take them walking off-leash on the hiking trails near his suburban home and they would always stay at his side. But on the mountain, he discovered they began to return to the wild. They would run after anything that held the promise of being food. He’d call them, but they wouldn’t come if they were on the scent of something to eat. This was a great shock to Katz. His dogs had become different animals once they were removed from the disciplined context of their lives.

Now we aren’t Labrador Retrievers. The Bible does call us sheep and we have enough in common with both Labs and sheep for this story to resonate with us. We know that when we walk away from our disciplines of prayer, worship, and service with our fellow disciples, we begin to lose touch with our identity and purpose in Christ. Now, we may not walk away. We may inch away. We may slide slowly away. And we may even do all these things without even realizing they’re happening.

There’s a story told of two men walking down a crowded, noisy city street. In the midst of the noise of horns blaring, people screaming, and jackhammers chewing up pavement, one of the men stops walking and says: “Did you hear a cricket chirping?” The other man says: “What? Are you crazy? Who could hear a cricket in all this racket?” Without saying a word, the first man took a quarter out of his pocket threw it up in the air, and then stood back to see what happened. The quarter bounced on the sidewalk and then came to rest. Immediately, people stopped walking and looked for the coin. The first man smiled saying: “We hear what we want to hear.”

People hear what they want to hear. If we lose touch with the disciplines of prayer, worship, and service, then I’m certain we will find ourselves listening to other voices that are all too ready to tell us what we want to hear, rather than what we need to hear. So, whom are we listening to these days? Are we listening to the Scriptures, are we humbly listening to that other person who has a word for us, are we listening to God’s grace imparted in the Sacraments? It’s so easy to get distracted away from God’s love and grace. Our spiritual disciplines keep us near the side of Jesus.

+Scott

 
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Silence as Soul Food (eCrozier #168)

On March 8, 2013, in Lent, silence, Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

The ego gets what it wants with words. The soul gets what it needs with silence.

– Richard Rohr

Talk, talk, talk, talk, ‘til you lose your patience

– Bruce Springsteen

There are times when silence is not called for. Silence when we see injustice; silence when we witness another person being abused; silence when a word of comfort or hope is needed. These are not occasions for silence. But there are so many other times when silence is exactly what we need. Silence gives us the chance to engage our brain before words come out of our mouths. It allows for the opportunity to listen to another person instead of interrupting them. Silence can thus keep us out of a whole lot of trouble.

This is particularly true in our prayer life. Because we are a people who love our Book of Common Prayer, we may mistakenly believe that all of our prayer life needs to be filled with words, and not just words, but the right words coming from the Book of Common Prayer. As much as I find indispensable the structure of our prayers in The Daily Office, I also know the need I have to just be quiet; to allow silence to engulf me. With all due respect to collard greens, silence is the best soul food for me.

The problem is: we are so accustomed to noise. The noise of the world becomes the norm. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping when I am on the road because it is often so quiet where I stay. I am used to living where there are shouting voices, car horns, and loud train whistles to rock me to sleep. I am used to the noise. It is my norm. Yet, it is in the silence where I am confronted with myself free of distraction and absent excuses. It is in the silence where God can get a word in edge wise. The noise of our lives distracts us. It allows us to avoid addressing the deeper issues of our lives that silence affords.

Some people do not welcome silence, in fact, they may well be afraid of it because of its capacity to confront. There are those who cannot fall asleep without the radio on or music playing. Others keep the television on in their homes even though they are not watching anything on it. It is a noisy, electronic companion. There was a CD released a few years back called Lonely No More. The CD, as I understand it, was intended for the user to play while being at home alone. The CD has tracks of the sound of a shower running, the sound of groceries being put away in kitchen cabinets, and the sound of a vacuum cleaner running.

If silence is not a regular part of your life, I encourage you make it a part of the rest of your Lenten discipline, sort of a test drive for the rest of your life. But please know you are playing with fire if you do. You may come to some epiphanies about yourself in the silence. In the silence, you may discover parts of your life that will call forth, even demand, repentance from you. Silence is exercise for the soul. We may not always like it, but it is crucial for the health of our soul.

+Scott

 
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Maintaining Spiritual Discipline (eCrozier #160)

On January 4, 2013, in discipleship, Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

In the wonderful movie Up, a talking dog is a prominent protagonist. Even though he talks, he’s still very much a dog. Like most dogs with whom I have shared habitat, this dog has significant attention-deficit issues. One of the recurring conceits of the film are scenes where the dog is talking to one of the humans and in the midst of speaking, his head pivots quickly one way or the other and he yells “squirrel!” as a squirrel runs by somewhere off screen. He then immediately resumes whatever he was saying.

My guess is that this image resonates with most of us as we seek to deepen our relationship with God.  We have our own “squirrel” proclivities when it comes to our spiritual lives and practices. Our practices are hard for us to maintain because there are so many “squirrel” distractions grabbing our attention. It is not that we are necessarily spiritually lazy. The longing for a closer relationship to God really is our desire, but we lack the discipline needed to focus our practices.

As we begin a new year, many people will make resolutions to change something about their lives. Some of those same people will focus the attempted change on their spiritual lives and practices. While this can be a good thing, my hunch is too many people will bite off more than they can chew, set unrealistic and unmanageable commitments, fail to keep those commitments, then give up, and be back where they started, only full of, if not self-hatred, at least a profound personal disappointment that they cannot seem to grow closer to God.

From my own experience, there are five keys to keeping any spiritual practice. First it needs to be specific. We should be able to say clearly what we’re going to do or not do. Next, it needs to be realistic. It should be something we can really manage given our lives as they are (and not as we fantasize them to be). Thus, it must be flexible enough to fit our current schedule and experience. Rigidity will only lead us to the spiral down to self-disappointment. Still, the discipline or practice must also be sacrificial. In other words, by engaging in it, it should cost something of our time and energy. And, so we don’t go off on wild tangents, the practice should be responsive to the claims of Jesus on his disciples, as the Church has received them.

Above all, our spiritual practice must be something we actively do, regularly and repetitively. In a sense, it is kind of like breathing. Passivity will sabotage us every time. For example, many people believe they will grow closer to God by reading the right books. I know from my own experience that expecting to grow deeper in my relationship with God through reading books about the spiritual life is like expecting to become physically fit by reading books about exercising. Now, reading books on the spiritual life (or reading eCroziers, for that matter) are hopefully edifying, but the Saints of the Church remind us we grow closer to God through actively engaging in concrete spiritual practices like daily prayer, serving others, showing hospitality to strangers, making Eucharist, and tithing (yes, tithing). When we engage in practices like these regularly and over time, we will find ourselves deepening our faith and growing closer to God.

+Scott

 
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Creating Disciples, Forming Leaders, and Sustaining Healthy and Vital Churches (eCrozier #148)

On September 28, 2012, in discipleship, leadership, Spiritual Disciplines, by Diocesan Staff

Clergy and lay leaders can have enormous impact on the health and vitality of the congregations they lead. But often the day-to-day “running” of the parish gets so much of their attention that they have little time or energy to work on the practices that lead to such health and vitality. This is the triumph of the urgent over the important. Yet, I believe that grounding people in the spiritual practices of discipleship, practices we have so amply available in our tradition, must be the leader’s main priority.

So, I suggest a refocus. Rather than a prime focus on “running” the parish, let’s place substantial energy and resources toward discipleship formation, which would include: (1) grounding people in the faith and practice of the Church; (2) growing the leadership base and skill of the parish; and, (3) disciplined listening to the Spirit through the people, things, and circumstances of the congregation. Here is what that might look like, broadly speaking, in a congregation.

1. Hold a recurring class that cycles about every 6-8 weeks. The class would teach people how to engage the spiritual practices the church. Sessions ought to include: What is the basic Christian narrative, how to pray the office, what does sacramental living look like, how do we keep Sabbath time, what does being a steward of God’s blessings mean, where can we exercise our Christian service in the world, etc. This is not a newcomer’s class, per se. Invite new and existing members. This builds up in everyone the basic skills of living their discipleship in the world. Over time, it develops a critical mass of lay leaders who are mature practicioners of our faith. It also connects new and old members. Nothing is more welcoming to new folk than to help them get proficient at being a disciple.

2. Regularly meet with existing leaders to identify future leaders and then nurture those folks. Done right this does not threaten current leaders, especially if you enlist them as mentors for future leaders. Enroll them in the Church Development Institute or other leadership training programs. Send them to diocesan Saturday workshops for parish leaders. Then, invite them to lead an initiative in the congregation that has a clear beginning and a clear end to it with an opportunity for them re-enlist. Congregations who are constantly developing leaders, and equipping them to be good at what they do, will always have people in place who have the energy and the smarts to lead.

3. Twice a year, in addition to the official Annual Meeting of the parish, have open church-wide meetings. These meetings need to be well-planned and designed to elicit feedback from people for the how the congregation is doing. It is a time where people can share their hopes, raise concerns, and offer their thoughts on ways to make things better. It is human nature to want to be heard. Often times brewing low-grade conflicts can be addressed before they get larger simply by respectful listening and clear response. This also has the benefit for leaders in that they get to see where the energy is in the congregation. What ideas or hopes seem to have the most enthusiasm? Go with those. If there is no energy around the annual (fill in the blank), then let it go.

+Scott

 
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The Daily Nap as Spiritual Practice (eCrozier #135)

On May 11, 2012, in Benedictine, Rule of Life, Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

My friend Ken Leech was fond of telling the story of Fr Neville who was the long-tenured chaplain at a theological college in the Church of England. Fr Neville, it seems, had the disciplined spiritual practice of taking a two-hour nap every afternoon from 2 pm until 4 pm. He kept this spiritual practice as part of a larger, disciplined Rule of Life. One day, the new Dean of the College approached him at breakfast asking him for a favor. There was a visiting African bishop who was to address the students of the college after lunch that day. The Dean had just been notified that he must attend a meeting of university deans that very afternoon. Since he could not host the visiting bishop and also attend this meeting, he asked Fr Neville if he could meet the bishop when he arrived at half past one, introduce him for his talk with the student body, and then see him to the guest quarters afterward. Fr Neville assured him he could and he would.

The visiting bishop from Africa arrived on schedule. Fr Neville greeted him, got him settled in, and right before 2 p.m. brought the bishop to the college’s assembly hall where the entire student body awaited him. The students, who knew of Fr Neville’s spiritual discipline, might have been there more for their curiosity about what Fr Neville would do as they were for the visiting bishop’s remarks. Fr Neville gave a stirring, heart-felt introduction of the bishop, invited the bishop to the podium, and as the bishop began to speak, Fr Neville left the assembly hall, retired to his room, and took his daily nap. At 4 p.m. Fr Neville arose, as was his practice, headed back to the assembly hall, arriving just as the bishop was concluding his remarks, thanked the bishop for a thoughtful and spirit-filled presentation, and escorted the bishop to the guest quarters so the bishop could rest before tea.

I cannot do justice in writing this story. One really has to have heard it told by the story-master, Ken Leech (and with Fr Leech’s version it takes about 20 minutes to tell). Still, however humorous we might find the story and the circumstances and individuals who are a part of it, there is a deeper learning in it for all of us. Fr Neville was not about to alter his spiritual practice for anyone, especially and including a visiting bishop. His disciplined practice shaped his discipleship in Jesus Christ. Thus, he was committed to it, come what may. And he was able to accomplish what his dean asked him to do without sacrificing his spiritual practice.

Now, we all might question how important naps are to any spiritual discipline. Fair enough. Eating a quart of ice cream every night as a spiritual discipline might be equally suspect. But I want to defend Fr Neville’s naps as spiritual discipline. Naps are just short, restful holidays from our work. Thus, they certainly can be a legitimate part of any spiritual practice. Remember that rest was an integral and indispensable part of St Benedict’s Rule – still the gold standard for a disciplined spiritual life.

On Monday, I am taking a five-day “nap,” er, retreat. This is a busy time in the life of the Church. It is not a good time to get away and take this retreat. That may be why it is absolutely essential that I do it.

+Scott

 

 
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The Great Santini, Sanctus Bells, and Self-Awareness (eCrozier #127)

On March 16, 2012, in Holy Spirit, Lent, Spiritual Disciplines, by bishopbenhase

There is a scene in the film, The Great Santini, that has always had a powerful Lenten message for me. The film based on the book by Pat Conroy tells the story of a Marine pilot and his wife, his teenaged son, his pre-adolescent daughter, and his early elementary-aged son. The family is used to moving every few years as a part of normal military life. In the film story, they find themselves living in an old house in Beaufort, South Carolina with the father stationed at the nearby Marine airbase.

The father is clearly damaged goods. He has a tough time expressing his emotions maturely and relating lovingly to his wife and children. He treats his children the way he treats his subordinates. One night he comes home drunk from an evening with his fellow officers and is in a foul mood. When he enters the family kitchen, he gets into an argument with his teenaged son and when he wife intervenes, he slaps her. This causes his older son to come to his mother’s defense by striking his father with his fist. So, the father begins to pummel his son with his own fists. As he is doing so, his young daughter jumps on his back with her arms tight around his neck, yelling: “no Daddy, no!” The younger son wraps his entire body around one of his father’s legs trying to prevent him from stepping forward into the punches he is throwing at his older son. The younger son just offers a whimpering cry with his eyes shut tightly.

Then, off in the distance, there is the sound of a loud train whistle blowing. The father freezes. The train whistle, it seems, serves like Santus bells in the church calling him to attention and to the awareness of what he was doing. As the train whistle continues to blow, he drops his fists, and he goes limp. His daughter slides off his back, his younger son disentangles himself from his leg, and his older son gets up off floor. Not another word is spoken that night and the father leaves the kitchen.

Lent is that train whistle, those Sanctus bells, for me. Entering into my prayers in Lent and to the disciplines of the season, I am confronted by myself. I am shaken awake by the Holy Spirit from the spiritual lethargy in which I find myself. And I come to a greater self-awareness about who I am and what I continue to become as a creation of God. This is profoundly important personal work for me, and I believe, for all of us.

What are your train whistles or Sanctus bells catching your attention this Lent? How are you being shaken by the Holy Spirit? What greater self-awareness are you experiencing? Our answers to such questions should not be dismissed, devalued, or ignored, for as we go deeper into the truth about ourselves we receive a spiritual gift from God: the invitation to a spiritual maturity based on that deepest truth about ourselves. Such a truthful admission and recognition opens for us the vastness of God’s grace and mercy. And when we arrive at Holy Week, we will not see the events there as the unjust and tragic death of a good man at the hands of evil people. No, we will see there on the Cross of Christ, our Savior and Lord.

+Scott

 
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