Savoring Faith

Dear Faith Family, 

I am writing to you today, my friends, to ask you to do something that does not come easily for most: slow down and savor words.

In 'normal' times, we are commonly overrun with words and information, but these last few weeks have intensified the onslaught of opinions, instructions, and even encouragements. I expect then, with empathy rather than judgment, that you are more than likely going to skim through my addition to the verbiage. But, I ask you to resist your inclination to scan and continue reading only at a leisurely pace. I ask it for your good, so when you are ready and able to slow down and savor, please continue. 

There is an underlying anxiousness in most of us right now, for obvious reasons. An anxiousness that creeps up and overwhelms, perhaps only in passing moments or manifesting in unsettled stomachs and uneasy sleep. For some, the anxiousness is not so hidden. Regardless, we know we can and ought not to fret as we do, at least that is what our faith tells us. We try not to worry, yet we are unable it seems but to wander in the wilderness of the present, brooding on what lies beyond our vision, the unknown surrounding us like darkness. We are unsure where the sounds behind the veil of night originate and to whom or what they belong. Anything and everything imaginable could be on the other side of the night so thick yet pale.  

We wonder if our faith is lacking and what confession needs to be made. We think our faith is weak, our faith mistakenly abased by our overconsumption of the news, constant distracting, and 'selfish solicitude.' And now, when we need it most, and it’s night and hard to see, it seems fleeting as a match's flame.  

What are we to do at these times? It would be easy enough to offer a quick reminder of the truth--and those are certainly helpful--or a list of useful tips for mental health in stressful times, or a treatise on "being anxious for nothing." Instead, I offer you an opportunity to slow down and savor, to "taste and see that the Lord is good," not through information, but a meditation on words about the Word.

The instructions are simple: read the poem below slowly, then read the section after meant to help you connect some of the dots in the poem, then re-read the poem slowly two to three more times, allowing yourself be drawn into the images, emotions, and the echos, stopping to hang on the words that jut out to you until the reason for their protruding is satisfied. 

STATION ISLAND XI | Seamus Heaney and St. John of the Cross 

As if the prisms of the kaleidoscope
I plunged once in a butt of muddied water
Surfaced like a marvellous lightship

And out of its silted crystals a monk's face
That had spoken years ago from behind a grille
Spoke again about the need and chance 

To salvage everything, to re-envisage 
The zenith and glimpsed jewels of any gift
Mistakenly abased...

What came to nothing could always be replenished. 

'Read poems as prayers,' he said, 'and for your penance
Translate me something by Juan de la Cruz.' 

Returned from Spain to our chapped wilderness, 
His consonants aspirate, his forehead shining, 
He had made me feel there was nothing to confess. 

Now his sandalled passage stirred me to do this:

How well I  know that fountain, filling, running,
Although it is the night. 

That eternal fountain, hidden away
I know its haven and its secrecy
Although it is the night

But not its source because it does not have one,
Which is all sources' source and origin? 
Although it is the night. 

No other thing can be so beautiful. 
Here the earth and heaven drink their fill
Although it is the night. 

So pellucid it never can be muddied, 
And I know that all light radiates from it
Although it is the night. 

I know no sounding-line can find its bottom,
Nobody ford or plumb its deepest fathom
Although it is the night. 

And its current so in flood it overspills
To water hell and heaven and all peoples
Although it is the night. 

And the current that is generated there,
As far as it wills to, it can flow that far
Although it is the night. 

And from these two a third current proceeds
Which neither of these two, I know, proceeds
Although it is the night. 

This eternal fountain hides and splashes
Within this living bread that is life to us
Although it is the night. 

Hear it calling out to every creature. 
And they drink these waters, although it is dark here
Because it is the night. 

I am repining for this living fountain. 
Within this bread of life I see it plain
Although it is the night. 

The poem begins with the author recounting a kaleidoscope he ruined in his desire to see into the dark of 'muddied water." This gift meant to allow him to see the refracted and beautiful glories of God's light seems to him lost and wonders if it can be salvaged. Feeling the seeming loss of such a gift, he remembers a conversation with a monk in a confessional ('behind a grille'), through which he came to realize that "What came to nothing could always be replenished." 

Like you and I, the author has struggled to see through the dark, feeling that he has lost his apprentice for viewing God's glory and beauty through the unknown of the "chapped wilderness." And like the author, we are invited to "Read poems as prayer," specifically a poem by St. John of the Cross ("Juan de la Cruz."), which are the final twelve stanzas. 

God, speaking through the prophet Jeremiah, addresses himself as "the fountain of living waters" (Jeremiah 2:13, 17:13). And St. John of the cross ruminates on the magnificent features of this fountain and its water in the first several stanzas. 

Jesus would say that if we asked him for a drink, he would give us ever quenching access to the same "living water" (John 4:10). Jesus' access granting comes because he is the "bread of life" and "living bread" (John 6:35, 51). Jesus makes this declaration in the context of him explaining that consuming his body and blood is the only way to life now and forever. His words and actions, making an easy connection for you and me to the bread and wine of communion. In both instances, Jesus offers access to the fountain of living waters through his body and his blood to people at the moment of their need, "Because it is the night."

Now that you have a little bit of connection to the parts of the poem, re-read the poem slowly two to three more times, allowing yourself be drawn into the images, emotions, and the echos, stopping to hang on the words that jut out to you until the reason for their protruding is satisfied. 

Minding Our Own Business

Dear Faith Family, 

It seems timely that our conversation over the last few weeks has centered around Paul's admonishment to the Thessalonian faithful to "aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs" (1 Thess. 4:11). Circumstantially we find our selves with little choice but to focus on the ordinary routines and relationships necessary to get by each day. Similarly, we are encouraged to quiet our activities and keep to ourselves, all of which is wise caution for both our health and our neighbors.  

I don't know about you, but I hear the warnings of leaders and experts, and couple those with Paul saying "mind your own affairs," and I am tempted to check-out. Check-out of responsibilities and relationships that would get me too mixed up in other people's "affairs" and germs. 

I'll all to easily avoid you and busy myself with me even when I am not being encouraged to do so! So, while social distancing is prudent and neighborly at this moment, as those "taught by God to love one another" (1 Thess. 4:9), we must, however, not let this moment justify our self-absorbed tendencies. 

In fact, "mind your own affairs," actually encourages me away from self-absorption, and into prudent living. Remember that Paul's counsel is given in the context of "more and more...brotherly love" (1 Thess. 4:10) or what we can call familial friendship. In this context, minding our own affairs means taking proper and proportionate responsibility for what we have specifically been given to do, care for, and cultivate.

Each of us has everyday roles and relationships within our home, community, faith family, and society for which we have been uniquely created, divinely commissioned, and are graciously accompanied in helping to flourish. That is your business, "your own affairs," which Paul says pay attention! 

While there are similarities and overlaps in these everyday roles and relationships, they are also distinct, specifically special, for each of us. Expect in this way: to avoid them or to attempt them in any other means, then what we have been "taught by God" always leads to less life, not more. We are neither couch-potatoes nor messiahs in everyday living but have a proper and proportionate place somewhere in between. 

If we don't take proper and proportionate responsibility for the relationships which make up our existence, we end up judging but not loving, meddling but not serving, helping but in ways that harm, comparing and contrasting, seeing others weaknesses while ignoring our own, and using the word arrogantly or ignorantly but not being "doers of the word," just to name a few examples. Yet, if in the 'more and more' of familial affection we can mind our own affairs, not in self-absorbed avoidance of others or self-centered serving, but properly and in proportion, we can wisely share the burdens of each other in this and any moment, even as we each carry our own load (Gal. 6:2,5). 

So, may we "mind our own affairs," to the momentary and eternal health of one another, and in so doing, fulfill the law of Christ. 

Not Quiet Like We Think

Dear Faith Family, 

I need to admit that I have a proclivity for the quiet. I don't always feel a need to talk, but I do feel a need to be alone at times. I don't get antsy when boredom sets in, but I do when there is too much commotion. Maybe that's why Paul's admonishment in I Thessalonians 4:11-12 to "aspire to live quietly," sticks out to me. At first glance, it seems to resonate with my natural disposition. But is Paul encouraging us to develop a particular personality bent? I don't think so, though I do believe many of us dismiss Paul's words because our personality is not inclined to whatever image of a "quiet life" pops into our minds. 

While it has been my experience that the majority of us long for a simpler, less chaotic life, we still want to make a difference, yearning to be a part of something bigger, recognizable, and exciting. And, a quiet life seems the opposite of such aspirations, but only if we miss the context of Paul's charge. Just a few verses before, Pauls says this, 

"Now concerning brotherly love (familial friendship), you have no need for anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another, for that indeed is what you are doing to all the brothers and sisters throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, faith family, to do this more and more..." (I Thess. 4:9-10)

You see, the Thessalonians were already involved in something bigger, recognizable, and exciting; their relationships.  They were already making a noticeable difference (in their entire region, i.e., "Macedonia") through the way they loved one another, in the way they sought the good for one another. And that's the point Paul is trying to make, that the yearning within us for a fuller life finds its satisfaction in the relationships in which we are enmeshed.  

God rescues people. God redeems people. God transforms people. And, he does so continuously and persistently day-in and day-out, you know, in the middle of that stuff, we call living. So, to be involved with people then is to be involved in God's fantastic activity. And, to love people is to participate in God's activity in the most impactful way possible. What could be more interesting, more influential, or more satisfying than that! 

A quiet life does not exclude us from having an impact, or keep us locked away from the interesting; instead, it keeps us from missing out on what is most impactful and most interesting. "Aspire to live quietly," is an admonition to strive against the distraction of the grandiose which pulls us out of the personal, and to strive for a life of greatest satisfaction which is found only through loving relationships. 

It's not easy living quietly. Like Jesus (Matt. 4:1-11), we are tempted to gratify our natural craving for satisfaction, tempted to seek out that which makes the most impact for the kingdom, and do that which demonstrates the extensiveness of God's power; but all that is a temptation, but not from God, for God does not tempt (James 1:13-15).  Which is why Paul uses the word "aspire." We don't live quietly by temperament but by choice, as we direct our hopes toward achieving, a life in which we experience and participate in the incredible, but in the context and way, our Father has given us. 

Aspiring to Freedom

Dear Faith Family, 

Over the years, we have attempted to make a big deal about the ordinariness of our faith. The ordinary places where faith takes root and bears fruit. The ordinary routines and relationships where we learn to live by faith and share that faith with others. The ordinary expressions of faith that fill a day, a week, a life.

Now, the ordinary is not an ideal our culture esteems, instead, we seemingly are always on the lookout for the extraordinary. And yet, our valuing of what we think of as normal life—life as employees, friends, neighbors, parents, children, spouses, roommates, church members, etc.—isn't something we just made up or have natural proclivities towards. Rather, it stems from Paul’s admonition to a faith family in Thessalonica whose life of faith “became an example to all the believers.” (I Thes. 1:7).

Having followed Jesus in the Holy Spirit to love one another well (I Thes. 4:9), Paul says to these faithful,

“But we urge you, brothers and sisters, to do this [loving one another well] more and more, and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one.” (I Thess. 4:10-12)

 
Let your love for one another multiple as you aspire--letting what you hope for be--to live quietly, not splashy or busy or frantic or clamorous, but calm, at peace in your daily doings, your normal labors, your common relationships for the sake of those around you and your freedom. This is Paul's admonition to a family of faith two millennia ago, and one which we have taken to be essential still today.

This coming Sunday, we began a dive into the depths and details of the freedom of an ordinary life in Jesus together to which we aspire. In preparation, I encourage you to do two things. First, consider your own aspirations, especially in regards to a life of faith. What are your ambitions? How does Paul's exhortation to ordinariness sit with you? 

Second, read Galatians. It should only take about 20 minutes to get through the entire letter. After reading Paul's letter, spend some time meditating on the relation of the message to the Galatians, and Paul's encouragement to the Thessalonians. If it helps, re-read The Orthodox Jewish Bible translation of I Thessalonians 4:10-11 which provides  bit more vividness to this shaping exhortation: 
 

"And have as your ambition to lead a quiet life of peace in the home of God, and mind your own business, and have an income, a job, working with your own hands, according to the commandments we gave you. The purpose is that the way you conduct yourself in respectful rhythm with creation, be conducted properly toward outsiders and that you might not be needy, dependent on the way of the world.”

May our ambition for a quiet life bear the fruit of freedom in Jesus!