Category Archives: Spirituality

Nativity of the BVM: Words from the “Apocrypha”

The traditional Epistle for today for well over a thousand years was one of those cases when the Epistle is not an epistle. Instead, the first, non-Gospel, reading at mass was from the multi-named Ecclessiasticus, Wisdom of Jesus Ben Sirach, Sirach, etc. This is one of those texts that Bible-reading Christians are not familiar with. Even if you’ve read the Apocrypha, you’ll not find this section as it appears in the Vulgate. Here it is in full from the Douay-Rheims English translation of the Vulgate:

Sirach 24:23-31  23 As the vine I have brought forth a pleasant odour: and my flowers are the fruit of honour and riches. 24 I am the mother of fair love, and of fear, and of knowledge, and of holy hope.  25 In me is all grace of the way and of the truth, in me is all hope of life and of virtue.  26 Come over to me, all ye that desire me, and be filled with my fruits.  27 For my spirit is sweet above honey, and my inheritance above honey and the honeycomb.  28 My memory is unto everlasting generations.  29 They that eat me, shall yet hunger: and they that drink me, shall yet thirst.  30 He that hearkeneth to me, shall not be confounded: and they that work by me, shall not sin.  31 They that explain me shall have life everlasting.

Update:

For those playing along with the footnotes…

Here’s the KJV 1611 Apocrypha:

Sirach 24:17-22  17 As the vine brought I forth pleasant savour, and my flowers are the fruit of honour and riches.  18 I am the mother of fair love, and fear, and knowledge, and holy hope: I therefore, being eternal, am given to all my children which are named of him.  19 Come unto me, all ye that be desirous of me, and fill yourselves with my fruits.  20 For my memorial is sweeter than honey, and mine inheritance than the honeycomb.  21 They that eat me shall yet be hungry, and they that drink me shall yet be thirsty.  22 He that obeyeth me shall never be confounded, and they that work by me shall not do amiss. 

Here’s Brenton’s version:

Sirach 24:17-22  17 As the vine brought I forth pleasant savour, and my flowers are the fruit of honour and riches.   19 Come unto me, all ye that be desirous of me, and fill yourselves with my fruits.  20 For my memorial is sweeter than honey, and mine inheritance than the honeycomb.  21 They that eat me shall yet be hungry, and they that drink me shall yet be thirsty.  22 He that obeyeth me shall never be confounded, and they that work by me shall not do amiss. 

So Breton follows the KJV’s translation, but omits v. 18 in keeping with his base text. So, it appears that the Translators were working with one of those “pauci” texts that Rahlfs mentions which makes me wonder just what they got a hold of… It’s moments like this when I wish I had a Complutensian Polyglot in my library. That would really give us some clues…

Sed contra

And now, a response to the Scotist’s latest writing on the proper regard for the Ever-blessed Virgin Mary

Once again, the issue at hand is whether awarding the BVM the title of “co-redemptrix” should be held dogmatically by Anglicans. He is arguing for; I am arguing against. In this latest post he starts to address my previous rebuttal in numbered sections; I shall start with him, and add section numbers as it seems appropriate.

I.
I had suggested that the notion of Mary as “co-redemptrix” might be a novelty and asked for citations from the Church Fathers (typically defined as Westerns up through Bede or Easterners up through John of Damascus, though an alternate Anglican definition is the Fathers of the first 5 centuries [yes, Bonaventure is right out…]). In reply, the Scotist provides a handful of quotes. My overall impression of them is that they tell us that great reverence was afforded the Mother of God and that she played an indispensable role in salvation history. I do not find in them, however, the notion of “co-redemptrix”. Let’s look at a few…

His first two are perhaps his best and strongest; they’re both from Irenaeus. Irenaeus was a great champion of and a well-spoken advocate for the notion of recapitulation which was a central understanding of God’s actions in salvation from the time of St Paul.

Let me break this down as best I can: Romans 5 is a key text here. In the latter half of this chapter, Paul speaks of Adam and Jesus as type and antitype. That is, Adam was the one man who sinned through disobedience. His sin of disobedience brought death to all humanity. All humanity was therefore guilty of sin and deserving of death. Jesus the Christ, the sinless, the obedient, freely gave his own life up for death—but this went against the “rules”. He did not deserve death but the gift of his death, as it were, “broke the machine” subsequently freeing humanity from the curse and condemnation of their disobedience; this is accessed through baptism which is a joining into the death and resurrection of Christ by becoming joined into his mystical body (Rom 6).

Paul thus gives us an elegant chiastic sort of structure: one pivotal man (Adam) through his action (disobedience) produces a result for all humanity (death). By embracing that result (death) out of turn, another pivotal man–yet very God–(Jesus) through his action (obedience) produces a result for all humanity (life). It’s compelling in an intellectual kind of way. (I’m open to the notion that it’s less compelling through other forms of knowledge.)

This is also seen in 1 Corinthians 15, Paul’s resurrection chapter, where he gives us the wondrous passage that we use liturgically in Eastertide as the last part of the Pascha Nostrum:

Christ is risen from the dead, *
and become the first fruits of them that slept.
For since by man came death, *
by man came also the resurrection of the dead.
For as in Adam all die, *
even so in Christ shall all be made alive. Alleluia.

Irenaeus takes up this theme which he calls “recapitulation” and makes it explicit. Another key place where the Fathers found it was in the Temptation narrative in the Gospels. As his very first public act (in the Synoptics…) Jesus is tempted by Satan in the desert–just as Adam was in the garden… John Cassian and all those after him (especially Gregory the Great who popularized it) understood the three core temptations of gluttony, pride, and avarice to be the same as before; Adam was bested by these in garden, Jesus triumphed over them in the wilderness. [I’ll have to see if they all get this from Irenaeus…] The devil’s hold suffered a fatal set-back even then—the rest of Christ’s ministry accelerated the unfolding result achieving its great climax in the crucifixion and resurrection.

So—what does all this have to do with Mary? Because as Paul sees Christ as the New Adam, Irenaeus explores the notion of Mary as the New Eve.

As Eve sinned through disobedience, refusing and ignoring the command of God, this primal disobedience in the garden was reversed by Mary in the Annunciation. In Mary’s acceptance, in her obedience to God, Eve’s initial curse was undone. As Jesus “rolls-back” Adam’s disobedience, so does Mary “roll-back” Eve’s. Thus, to the degree that both Adam and Eve were participants in humanity’s primordial sin, so both Jesus and Mary factor into its overcoming.

This notion of recapitulation, therefore, is—as I see it—the single best case for arguing the Immaculate Conception and therefore Mary as “co-redemptrix”. That having been said, I’m still not convinced that this overcoming of original sin requires an immaculate conception or necessarily makes Mary a true “co-redemptrix”. Yes, true obedience to God is an act directly contrary to original sin, but—as we believe and as the Fathers testify—God’s grace strengthens us to overcome this sin; original sin itself is cleansed in Baptism and as we cleave to the Spirit received in Baptism and open ourselves to its work in our wills and ways it nerves us to reject sin and to love, fear, and trust God as we ought.

The central question for me, then, is origin and volition: was the choice of obedience at the annunciation Mary’s free, “unaided” will, or was it her choice assisted and inspired by the Spirit already at work in her life? I can’t see it any other way than the second. To my way of thinking, even Mary’s “yes” was at God’s initiative through grace. It was surely not a coerced “yes”, but the prime mover for the action, its true origin, was in God and not Mary herself.

Moving right along…

The Jerome quote—part of a defense of virginity—is more of the same.

I believe the other two are as well, but I profess and plead my ignorance of the Later Greek Fathers.

Augustine—that one looks intriguing; I’ll have to hunt it down…

Origen—wow, this one would be a clincher—if Origen said what the Scotist said he said… He got tripped up on grammar here. The referent of the sentence is John, the beloved disciple, the one who leaned his head on the breast of Jesus and who [at the foot of the cross] received Mary as his mother from Jesus. The point that Origen is making is that this John is the one most qualified to write the deepest and most penetrating of the gospels because he was the most intimate with Jesus—not because he received the ability to understand Jesus through his mother.

So, this showing has promise particularly in the case of recapitulation but, as the Scotist admits, nothing here seals the deal.

[As a sidenote, you keep referring to the “fifth Marian dogma”. I’m assuming you are using this to refer to the “co-redemptix” notion. Where does this numbering come from—and what are the other four?]

II.
I brought up earlier the conjunction of topics found in Vatcian II’s Lumen Gentium, where it produced a statement on both the Church/ecclesial bodies and the BVM and I suggested that elevating Marian doctrines to the point of dogma without understanding the wider implications was a dangerous business. This point the Scotist concedes. I do want to say a little more about it, though…

Theologically, I’m fairly conservative. One of the reasons that I am conservative is because I fear the consequences of hasty change to any part of the Church’s central proclamation because none of it is truly independent. It’s an interconnected web, a seamless garment. This always proved to be one of the eye-opening moments for the students in my Church Year class—and we generally hit it when we got to what I affectionately refer to as the Goth Triduum—Halloween, All Saints, and All Souls. These days—and the problem of the Protestant co-opting of All Saints as All Souls—can’t be understood without understanding the Church’s theology of death, of the communion of the saints, of Baptism. For many of them, that discussion was their first glimpse of the web of theological connections that is orthodox Christian thought; playing with one part affects everything around it and linked to it by thousands of years of speculation, meditation, and life experience of the reality of the Living God.

III.
Moving along, the Scotist addresses my distinction between doctrine and dogma. This, as far as I’m concerned, is why this is worth fighting over. Doctrine is what may be held; dogma is what must be held. To put it another way, it’s possible to have a doctrinally minimalist Christianity and to still have it recognizable as orthodox Christianity. For example, it’s possible to lop off many of the doctrines and practices relating to the saints and the sacraments and still be “Christian” as described by the Scriptures and the Creeds.
I think it’s a lot more fulfilling and a lot more fun to have these, but I’ll recognize Reformed and Baptist folk as fellow members of the mystical Body even if they don’t sing the right antiphons on the Benedictus for the feast of St Ethelreda. But “dogma” means that it must be held in order for it to be a valid Christianity. A “dogma” is the kind of thing that if you went, in the Spirit, to an orthodox mother and father who died before its establishment and asked, “Hey, do you believe X”, they’d respond, “Well, of course—but that’s so obvious we’ve never had to say it…”

Would the great Baptist, would the great Reformed, forebearers respond this way in regard to the BVM as “co-redemptrix”—and are you prepared to cut them off from the Body of Christ if they answer in the negative on that account?

While the Scotist says: “There is no reason, as an Anglican and an Episcopalian, I have to convert him and others to belief in the fifth dogma as dogmatic, however desirable conversion would be” he is, in fact, mistaken: that’s exactly what dogma means. If he wants to talk about “co-redemptrix” as a doctrine, then he’d be absolutely correct and I’d have no problem with his decision.

Dogma is the fighting word here.

He closes by borrowing a notion from Rahner, the anonymous Christian, and suggests that there may be anonymous Marians. I hate to say it, but this completely rubs me the wrong way. If a roshi told me that I was an anonymous Buddhist, or if I were told by an imam that I was an anonymous Muslim, I’d thank them nicely for their complement of my character but feel a bit annoyed at their condescension. To be told that I am acceptable to the degree to which I participate in their system of belief while not knowing it strikes me as a bit patronizing.

In conclusion, then, I thank the Scotist for his latest effort. I receive with gladness his nice package of patristic quotes and commend the doctrine of recapitulation to you for your consideration. However, I find nothing here that persuades me that the BVM as “co-redemptrix” belongs at the level of dogma. Rather I am persuaded by his use of the term, that the Scotist is improperly using the term, equating doctrine with dogma, when historically and theologically dogma is not equivalent but refers to a mandatory rather than optional doctrine.

Rule of Life Resource

Whilst poking around websites of churches in my new area (with some helpful pointers from Brian M…) I came across this very nice write-up an a rule of life from an Anglican perspective.

I say “from an Anglican perspective” because it properly begins with the rhythms of Mass and Office shaped around classical prayerbook spirituality, then proceeds from there.

M and I have been talking for a while about a family rule; I’ve been thinking more and more about a personal rule that fits inside of the former. (Actually–that’s one of our key findings so far—a family rule needs to have the openness to embrace different personal rules within it.)

We’ve both been hitting the gym a lot more since our move (more on that later) and I was confronted quite sharply yesterday. I set the treadmill for 35 minutes and about halfway through said to myself, “you know, I’ll just do 30 today…” To be completely honest the change wasn’t because I was hurting, it wasn’t because I couldn’t or shouldn’t do—it was because it was hard and I didn’t want to do. Then it hit me: I’m a physical fitness sarabaite! (I figure that since we’ve joined the Y I no longer fall under “gyrovague”…)

I need a rule and perhaps a session with a decent trainer to help me get it set up—and with the electronic tracking system I know that the trainer can log on at anytime and check my fidelity…

As with my physical fitness, so with my spiritual fitness…

A rule, a spiritual director: both good things—and a new start in a new place is the best possible time to get it going.

On Guitars in Worship

This is a response to David E in his comment on the last post. I started a comment but it got out of hand, so here it is in an expanded form.

Read here on the St Louis Jesuits. As the first adopters of vernacular music in a vernacular idiom for Roman Catholic worship, the music of the St Louis Jesuits holds an appeal (and a disdain) for some not based on its musical or theological properties. For what it’s worth, I think the musical and theological qualities of much of this repertoire is rather limited. However, it is of immense symbolic importance, especially for Roman or Rome-leaning people (like some progressive Anglo-Catholics) of a certain age (read: Baby-Boomers) who were coming of age in the Vatican II years and its aftermath. That is, their attachment to the music is due to what it represents–the American Catholic Church getting to do things its way , a new generation literally getting its voice heard and overturning old ways of doing things. Now that a new “new generation” is rising, certain elements are in classic back-lash mode and despise SLJ music for precisely the reasons their parents loved it. I’ll admit to having one foot in this camp.

To avoid dwelling in knee-jerk generational generalizations, I’d rather cut to what I see as the real reason why this is a fight and/or why a fight exists–and should exist.

It’s not really about guitars and folk songs or not-guitars and not-folk songs, rather what lies at the center of the argument (as I see it) is competing notions of immanence and transcendence and their place in divine worship. Should church music sound like secular music? Why or why not? Speaking personally, I like guitars quite a lot whether it is in classic country or the virtuosity of Van Halen, Hendrix, Gibbons, Morelli or others.  But that doesn’t mean I want to hear that style of music in church. (I mentioned this briefly in my critique of a U2charist we attended a while back.) I generally don’t like American Folk Revival music  from the 60’s and 70’s anyway; I especially don’t want to hear that style in church.

For me, it’s too immanent; I crave something more transcendent. Some have argued that people can generally be grouped as Platonists or Aristotelians. That is, they either have a sense of reality as something “out there” or of reality as something “really here” intimately bound up with daily mundanities. I intuit that the same is true of spirituality. Some find their connection with God as the God who is immanent and bound up in the holiness of quotidian mundane life. Others find that connection in the God of the transcendent who is “out there” and Other and speaks a word of challenge against what we think is our mundane life.

Both sorts can learn from each other; both sorts need to learn from each other. But a basic orientation one way or the other will still endure.

I’m the second kind. I’m a Platonist by natural inclination. I find God “out there” and in the transcendent and in the different and in the things that shocking me out of my business-as-usual way of living and, through those experiences, can find God and the Hoy in the mundane and the everyday in the ways that I can identify God shocking and surprising me towards transcendence.

As a result, I want my worship to be transcendentally oriented. I want it to help me get in connection with the God “out there” so that I can learn the feel, the touch, the taste of the Other and transcendent God in order that I might recognize that same God in my daily eating, breathing, and moving. Chant is to the ear what incense is to the nose what stained glass and icons are to the eye: culturally conditioned signs of the transcendent but—cutting through the culturally-based significance—vehicles that truly assist me to touch the face of God.

That’s why I don’t want guitars in my service.

And that’s why I understand that other people want them—and need them.

The other side is that I sang for a couple of years in seminary in a Catholic Mass choir that did Marty Haugen’s Mass of Creation with a guitar front-center. (i know; most rad-trads hate Haugen—I don’t. I think its better than a lot of the alternatives [especially Metho-Baptists worship settings ones I’ve experienced].) I’ve served and preached at folk services. I’ve even led with guitar in hand a Taize-style service with guitar and recorder.

Yes, there can be a place for the guitar. Yes, it can be done well, reverently, worshipfully.

But it’s not my taste. And when I’m choosing a congregation where I worship—especially given the recognition that as the spouse of a priest or if I become a priest myself I will not have any choice in the matter—I will choose a service without guitars.

Shout-out to bls for the spelling corrections… ;-)

Denuo…

The Anglican Scotist put forward some thoughts on how Anglicans can share the wealth of Marian reflection with our protestant brethren. It has occasioned some thoughtful reflections from Christopher as well as a few dribbles from me. In his latest round, the Scotist takes issue with my comments, arranging them under three headings. I shall deal with these in turn.

I.
The Scotist takes issue with my deployment of the early history of devotion to the BVM. He argues that the origins of devotional practice need not have a major bearing on the shape of doctrines concerning the same person, especially as they develop over time. I would agree with the Scotist in principle. I do think, though, that had a doctrine this major been held by the universal church, it would have left its mark in the history of devotion—and that’s where I’m lacking the evidence.

I prefer to take what I consider a Vincentian view of the development of doctrine that is, there is a fundamental body of truth handed over at the time of the apostles. As time as progressed, as errors have emerged, as problems have arisen, we have elaborated on truths already contained within that fundamental body. To use the metaphor, we have added detail and flesh to the body—not an extra arm or leg.

The reason I point to the early devotion to the BVM is that I see “co-redemptrix” as a fairly major step. Is it indeed contained within the original body of truth in nascent form? Since I do not find it in the fist-millennium forms with which I am familiar, I do regard it with suspicion. Show me the evidence, Scotist, that this was held by the undivided Church, and I’ll be happy to consider it more deeply.

I’ll happily hold to the high view of Mary contained in, say, Bede’s Homily I.3 on the Annunciation. He indeed affirms that the BVM dwelt in a special state with regard to sin when he writes:

“The power of the Most High overshadowed the blessed mother of God because when the Holy Spirit filled her heart, he tempered for her every surge of fleshly concupiscence, he thoroughly cleansed her from temporal desires, and with heavenly gifts he sanctified her mind along with her body.”

However, I just as surely agree with him when a few lines later he states:

“Indeed, we human beings are all conceived in iniquity and born in moral faults; however by God’s granting it, as many of us are preordained to eternal life as are reborn out of water and the Holy Spirit. In truth, our Redeemer alone, who deigned to become incarnate for us, was thereupon born holy because he was conceived without iniquity. He was born the Son of God since he was conceived of a virgin through the working of the Holy Spirit.”

While holding the BVM in special esteem and regarding her as cleansed by sin—as we all are in Baptism when the Holy Spirit is bestowed on us, and it taking root in her perhaps more firmly and fully than in me—he denies the doctrine (currently held by the Romans as dogma) of the Immaculate Conception of the BVM that holds her guiltless of any taint of original sin.

II.
The Scotist takes notice of something that I pointed to in my comments—the exegetical and theological connection between Mary and the Church. He sees nothing wrong with this connection and thinks that it bolsters his point. I don’t see anything wrong with the connection either—but it behooves him to tread quite a bit more careful when and where he does not see implications that he does not intend. The Roman Catholic Church takes this connection quite seriously. Indeed, the current edition of the catechism contains a subtitle: “Mary—Eschatological Icon of the Church” (preceding Para. 972). To what degree do the characteristics of the icon pertain to its object? What is resemblance and what reality? To put a finer point on it, the Second Vatican Council initially planned to produce a statement on the BVM. Indeed–it did so, but not as a separate statement. Rather, it was rolled into Lumen Gentium, the statement on the nature of the Church and its relationship with other “ecclesial bodies”. Do you think, then, that dogmas concerning Mary can be considered atomistically apart from their wider implications? What light, for instance, does the dogma of the Immaculate Conception throw upon the dogma of an infallible Church? I don’t know myself—I’m still working through it—but this is another reason for my calls for caution.

III.
The Scotist then attempts to answer my main issue. And does not. He does describe well the differences between Abraham and Mary—and I don’t disagree. He produces a nice reflection on seeing with the heart of Mary–again, I don’t disagree. But what he has produced here is a fine show of devotion—and does not support thereby why Anglicans should embrace Marian dogma. Because that’s the real sticking point.

Therefore, I’ll try to be more clear in this response than in the pat and lay out specifically my objection to his initial post, an objection still unanswered.

IV.
I’ll begin with a rough and ready definition: a doctrine is a belief that we hold about the faith; a dogma is a doctrine that we must hold about the faith. The Roman Catechism is more specific, defining it as “[truths], in a form obliging the Christian people to an irrevocable adherence of faith,…contained in divine Revelation or when it proposes, in a definitive way, truths having a necessary connection with these.” (para. 88).  Therefore, dogmas are absolute and binding in a way that the more general term doctrine does not require. I am willing to identify and entertain the doctrines of the Immaculate Conception and the Assumption of the BVM; I reject them as dogma. That is, they do not have the same character as the dogmatic doctrines of the Incarnation, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection—or the identification of the BVM as Theotokos, the God-bearer.

The Scotist, in his original post, pushes for Anglo-Catholic reception and promulgation of the Roman doctrine-which-some-push-as-dogma of the BVM as “Co-Redemptrix”. As several of the quotes he provides make clear (especially that of JPII), this doctrine itself builds on the two prior Marian  “dogmas”, most especially the Immaculate Conception. I contend that while these are interesting doctrines worthy of consideration, they are not true dogmas, they need not be held for one to hold the full faith of Christ Crucified—and neither is this newcomer. This is the bar the Scotist has set for himself with his own words. Perhaps he intends that we examine the doctrine—which I tend to regard as popular devotion gone awry—but this is not what he has said.

Contra Scotistam I

So much to do, so little time… I’m slowly working through a large backlog of things that have to get done, things I want to do now, things I may want to do in the future, and things that ought to be commented on. And yes, I’m delinquent on correspondence too—for those of you waiting on emails from me: they’re coming…

Part of the backlog involves dealing with some things that the Anglican Scotist has posted recently that I couldn’t get to due to the move(s). I’ll take the easiest first—Marian dogmas.

I treat this first because, to my mind, it’s the easiest to dispense with, and long-time readers probably already know where I’m going to go with it…

To my mind, the Scotist has once again confused devotion with doctrine. That is, yes, classically the English and Anglicans have held a high opinion of the Ever-blessed Virgin Mary and I see that as a good thing. However, why that would make us beholden to post-Scholastic doctrines with questionable roots in the Scriptures and in the tradition of the Undivided Church is beyond me. In contrast to his Scholastic/Post-Scholastic approach, I propose something much simpler and, well, a bit more early medieval…(big surprise there…)

As I’ve discussed before, Christian devotion to the saints is fundamentally about relationships and was originally modeled on social structures of Late Antiquity. (For those interested, I’m drawing on Peter Brown’s The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity. [Anastasia—what’s your take on this one?]) That is, patronage was what made the system work—getting things done, receiving justice, etc. was intimately related to who you knew in the hierarchy. Following the standard cross-cultural notion that things are above as below, “patron” saints were literally just that: folks you knew or had a special “in” with who would put in a good word to the King on your behalf. And, as we move more through Late Antiquity and enter the Early Medieval period, kings’ courts because notoriously dangerous places due to factional politics. A powerful man at court was constantly in danger of becoming too powerful; kings had to watch their backs against potential usurpers. As a result, even knowing somebody well placed was not always enough to guarantee your safety. However—there was one person at court who was safe, who would always be on the king’s side and have his ear (yes, we’re talking Latin not Byzantine here…): the king’s mother! Again, as below, so above… The Blessed Virgin Mary, as the Mother of the King, is always a good choice for an intercessor.

Thus, early devotion to the BVM as I see it was not fundamentally about doctrine. Yes, there certainly was doctrine about the BVM, but as Christopher notes, it was in relation to Christology.

The other important thing to note is something that the Scotist touches on briefly and, I think, without a full understanding of the inner workings of Marian devotion. Exegetically and then theologically, patristic and medieval sources understand Mary as the pre-eminent figure of the Church in Scripture. Mary represents the Church/Mary is the Church. I’ll give you a quick medieval exegetical for instance—look at medieval commentaries on the Song of Songs: One speaker is Christ, the other is, at turns, Mary , the Church, and the soul. There’s a fusion here that the SoS commentary tradition helped make insoluble. This fundamental connection has to understood to make full sense of Mary in the contemporary Roman Church. Without this connection, the logic seems less clear and more mysterious.

The bottom line for me is this: Yes, Anglicans should honor Mary, giving her the veneration she is due. And, as is proper with veneration distinct from worship, all veneration of the created objects in the history of our redemption (the cross, the saints, etc.) ultimately point to the Uncreated, the classical Marian text being her words to the servants (read: us) at the wedding of Cana: “Do whatever he tell you” (John 2:2). She is the God-bearer. She is the perfect exemplar of those who wish God to grow within them—we hope spiritually for what she experienced physically. She is the exemplar of the contemplative spirit in the active life who “kept all these things, pondering them in her heart” (Luke 2:19) and whose soul was pierced by the sword (Luke 2:35), and yet lived in the world as a wife and mother. Too, she who was the bride of God is a symbol of the Church and participates in that mystery that we live under and fumble towards.

But does this mean we must embrace modern Roman dogmas in her regard, especially the contentious issue of “co-redemptrix”? I think not. Yes, our salvation comes through her as she bore the Christ and shared with him her humanity, but redemption proper is a function of the Uncreated Godhead. If she were to be “co-redemptrix” for her role, by extension the patriarchs must also become “co-redeemers” for their role in the unfolding of salvation according to both the flesh and the spirit. (And you won’t see the Roman church pushing for that anytime soon…) So, devotion to Mary? By all means. Scholastic dogmas of Mary? Unnecessary, I think. Illicit? No, I don’t think that either—but not required.

Feast of the BVM

Happy Feast of the BVM to all!

M reminded the girls that today is the feast of Mary and Lil’ G replied “Great! Let’s celebrate! I know, we could have a pot roast…”

[In our house Fridays are generally vegetarian pizza nights; pot roasts signal Sunday dinner.]

I’m back in Mary’s Land from the second clean-up trip but chaos reigns–and will for the next few weeks probably as we settle in and get used to new schedules. I probably won’t be online too much in the near future.

On the BCP and Benedictine Values

Scott points us to this wonderful reflection on the Daily Office, the BCP and a life formed in prayer. I’ve not encountered this blog before, but if Scott gives it high marks, it’s worth a read.

One tiny quibble, however. Fr. Hayes writes:

Prayer is the heart and soul of any life. Benedict was/is so correct
when he states that “To pray is to work; to work is to pray.” THAT is
why the church exists – to help people to pray.

Unless I’ve both misremembered and missed it in a quick electronic scan of the rule, Benedict doesn’t actually say this. It’s present by implication through Benedict’s practice of referring to the fixed hours of prayer as the Work of God (opus Dei). But it’s not explicit. Rather, this formula  is very similar to a quotation from Cassian’s Institutes (can’t give you a citation; my Institutes are 600 miles away…) but Cassian’s intent is something different.

In this passage, he’s talking about the twinned manual labor and prayer of the Egyptian monks. In it, he marvels at how long and hard they work and wonders if it is the work that makes the prayer possible or the prayer that makes the work possible.

Don’t get me wrong–I think Fr. Hayes is absolutely right in what he’s saying about prayer being the heart and soul of life and that the great function of the Church is to connect people with the reality of the life hid in God with Christ through prayer (including the sacraments). The reason I take the trouble to bring this up is because I think fussing with this point is necessary for a healthy and helpful understanding of the priesthood of all believers, the theological vocation of those of us who are not clergy or monastics.

I’m still wrestling with what it means to fulfill the Pauline and deeply monastic command to “pray without ceasing”. On one hand, virtuous work well done can be a kinetic act of prayer for those of us who live and work in the world. On the other hand, I wonder if we sometimes let ourselves off the hook too lightly when we take that tack. I sometimes think that the manual labor jobs I’ve done in the past lend themselves more fully to a true mingling of work and prayer of the sort Cassian describes than my current forms of intellectual labor. That is, aren’t there varying levels of passive mindfulness and active prayer that can still be pursued by those in the world?

I don’t know–I’m still fussing with it. In any case, go and read the post and tell me what you think…

Mass without the Faith; Roof without Walls

There’s an interview up at WDTPRS with +Fellay of the schismatic Roman Society of St Pius the Xth. As you may recall, they’re the ultra-traditionalists who believe that Vatican II introduced grave errors into the Roman Church and thus split off to preserve their orthodoxy. Clearly I disagree with them on a number of points…

In any case, I noted this particular exchange:

Q: Contrariwise, would you say that the fight for doctrine has become more important?

Fellay: No, the fight for doctrine is and remains always as important. If we do not have the Faith, we have nothing, not even the Mass. The Mass without the Faith is like a roof without the walls. Doctrine is and remains the fundamental reason for our battle.

While Fellay and I no doubt disagree as to what is included within “the Faith”, I do believe this is an essential point. The liturgy—Mass and Office—is our great entry into the mysteries of reality as we understand them in light of the Triune God. It is the entrance into the encounter with the Living God that shapes us intellectually, emotionally, affectively, and morally. I sometimes emphasize the affective elements of the liturgy because I think the tendencies of the protestant tradition (and my personal tendencies) over-emphasize the intellectual. Indeed, I think the bishop’s words could be interpreted that way as well, but I read them as I believe the tradition has always read them: the liturgy alone without the way of being that the liturgy calls us into and calls forth within us is empty. There is intellectual content and affective direction that we must hold to and actively engage.

And if the Anglican “prayer book catholicity” that I and others speak of is to be fully realized, it’s those things I think we need to be more explicit about.

…And I’m Back…

…with a some update and a bleg. And no, I haven’t yet begin to wade through my back feeds so more may be coming later as I sort out what all’s gone on since I left…

  • We got a place. We like it. M, as many of you know personally, is both wise and beautiful. At the moment, though, I’m doubting her sanity. She is planning for us to move in on August 1st. As in, the one 11 days from now… But–the girls are with the grandparents so we’ll be in a packing frenzy. Expect posting to be light…
  • I did see that Christopher is setting up a new blog to talk about a rule of life. I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about this, especially how it can be achieved in a busy…well, okay, chaotic…household with two preschoolers. I’ve got some solid ideas but nothing yet written. These will come later…
  • Thanks for keeping an eye on the pointy-hats for me–they seem not to have done anything too silly. Yet… 

On now to the bleg. This is for those who use the 1662 BCP or are familiar with its use particularly in the English Prayerbook Catholic paradigm:

  • Both the original 1662 lectionary and the 1922 update have quite a number of options in them. What patterns of use are favored–and why?
  • All of the red-letter days are supplied with collects, readings etc. Black-letter days obviously don’t change the readings–but how are they observed, there being no Commons of Saints?
  • The lectionary and kalender seem to indicate that 1st Vespers are not the custom of this prayer book. However, reading through the Rules to Order the Service, item 5 legislates it (“shall” be said) for all Sundays and red-letter days and item 6 leaves the option open. Is there a standard practice or much variability?
  • Also, the Rules to Order the Service make much causal mention of “memorials”, which I take to be supplementary collects in the fashion of commemorations. Are there other directions on memorials that I’m somehow missing?

Of course, I’ll consult my older written sources: Directorum Anglicanum and the 1st edition of Ritual Notes on these but I’d like to here about current use as well… Thanks in advance!