Coronavirus and ascetism

Coronavirus and Asceticism

by Charles Ringma tssf

Much of the Christianity in the Western world has been focussed on blessing and much-having. One almost gains the impression that God has been cast as the perennial Father Christmas in the sky.

This one-sided notion of God’s relationship with us, has been somewhat dinted in this time of pandemic.

What most people are now grappling with is not the reality of blessing, but the challenges of pain and struggle in the midst of loss. And much has been lost – jobs, businesses, homes, health and general well-being. More that, our economies have received such a blow that recovery will take many years. And who knows what else will be lost in the aftermath of COVID-19.

Possible deeper losses may include the loss of confidence in our global order, in our governments, and in other social institutions. And some may be entertaining doubts about the church and other religious associations.

In countries that have not been so severely impacted by this pandemic, the refrain is – back to normal as soon as safely possible. And while this is understandable, I hope that this time of abnormality has taught us something so that there will be a new “normal” that we all aspire to and will work towards.

I believe that the hope for a new “normal” is also appropriate for the church. I hope that the present-day church won’t rush back to the old normal. This is important, because the church of the old normal has been too captive to the dominant ethos of contemporary culture, and has functioned too much on a business model for its institutional life. Moreover, the church has hardly exemplified its communal identity in Christ through the Spirit, and has failed to function as a prophetic community in society.

It is hard to predict what a new “normal” may look like for the church, but one lesson that can be drawn from our present circumstances, is learning from the present realities of loss. Rather than seeing loss as an enemy, we may learn to see it as friend. And loss is a companion to emptiness, and emptiness may be the seed-bed for a new receptivity.

Of course, it is right that we have emphasized gain in the Christian life. We have gained much through Christ’s redemptive love, even life itself. And in Christ, we have gained as gift the life-giving Spirit. But we have failed to accent the reality of loss. And loss brings us into the domain of asceticism, which from the Greek, asketikos, means sacrifice for the purpose of training and formation (as in a sport). And by way of application, sacrifice and self-discipline, for the sake of growing in Christlikeness and service.

Asceticism has not always had a good track record in Christian spirituality. At times, ascetic practices have negated the body, made salvation a self-effort, and reflected a distorted view of God. Bradley Holt rightly notes that a faulty asceticism “leads to despising God’s good gifts of creation: our bodies and the world around us.”

However, there have also been laudable perspectives and practices. While in religious orders and the priesthood, the dominant commitments have been poverty, celibacy and obedience, for the laity ascetic practices have traditionally included prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

But all of this can be framed much more basically. Asceticism is far more central to the Christian life than simply fasting. Coming to faith in Christ involves the loss of the old life of human autonomy and self-sufficiency, and embracing the new life in Christ. In coming to Christ, we hand over to him our sin and our goodness, in fact our very selves. This new life involves a life of obedience and openness to the Spirit. Thus, it involves the loss of going our way.

There is also more that we need to surrender. The love of God involves us in a commitment to seeing God’s shalom erupt into our world and the love of neighbour involves us in service to the other. What this means practically, is that we are willing to lay things aside and to sacrifice so that a something much better can swim into view.

In the light of these perspectives, it should be clear that ascetic practices lie at the very heart of Christian spirituality and service.

So, the question for us in this time of COVID-19 when we are already experiencing so much loss, is: what is it that we need to learn in anticipating the new “normal” about living more prayerfully and sacrificially? In other words, do we need to become more ascetic? Do we need to embrace loss in new and productive ways? Is the “desert” as important as the “promised land”? Is “not-having” as important as having?

In taking these questions on board we may need to hear the challenge of St. John Chrysostom: “those who live in the world, even though married, ought to resemble the monks in everything else.” Clearly Chrysostom is making the point that there should not be a huge difference between monks and the laity. “Ordinary” Christians also, need to live in community, practise hospitality, live prudently, live in obedience to the gospel, and live in fidelity. Thus, like the monks, we too need to practice asceticism and in relinquishing the good make may for the greater good in the Kingdom of God.

Charles Ringma, tssf.

Coronavirus & The Noon Day Demon

The Coronavirus and the Monastic “Noonday Demon”

By Charles Ringma tssf

While I don’t know how you have been coping (I was going to say “travelling”- but that is rather inappropriate) with the present “lock-down” due to Covid-19, I do know how this has impacted me, and I do hear that many are experiencing negative emotional/mental impacts.

So, let me share something and make a link with the Monastic “noonday demon.” I won’t be surprised if you think that the latter sounds rather strange!

With the “lock-down” I was first rather happy. Being an introvert, I was happy to be at home and felt I had more time than usual to get on with research and writing, although I did miss going to the library.

However, as time went on several things began to happen. The first, was too much of a focus on the pandemic. And since I come from the Netherlands and have lived and worked in Asia and in Canada, I was constantly looking at what was happening in these countries as well as in Australia. Secondly, I was beginning to feel despondent particularly when certain countries seemed to make such poor responses to the crisis. Thirdly, I have become increasingly concerned as to what will happen in a post-coronavirus world. Will things go back to normal? Or will there be significant changes in our world? And finally, I have been impacted by a sense of boredom. Everyday seems so much like the day before. And tomorrow the day will probably be like today.

And it’s the latter that brings me to Monasticism.

If there is anything that is true about the Monastic community, it is the “sameness” and regularity of each day. As a consequence, monks have had to come to terms with the problem of acedia. Simply put, this Greek term means apathy/boredom/torpor. More deeply, it means “absence of care” and a person “afflicted by acedia refuses to care or is incapable of doing so.” This was called dealing with the “noonday demon,” because the heartbeat of Monastic life is attentiveness to God, one’s inner being, the community, and concern for the wider world. Acedia was seen as a temptation.

In the light of this, I wish to make a simple point – I am having problems with “sameness.” And this is not surprising since life in the modern world is about the opposite. It is about distraction, diversity, travel, and living with multiple options.

When this is no longer possible it is understandable that one may become frustrated and even depressed. Thus, mental health impacts of the coronavirus are very real for this and many other reasons.

If you are feeling the same, you may want to share how you are dealing with the “noonday demon”? What I am trying to do is to embrace a practical asceticism. I don’t need travel, holidays, or a night at the movies in order to be at peace and to live with gratitude. I can be thankful for what this day brings, even it is much the same as yesterday. Moreover, I need avoid seeking distraction in order to feel ok. Distraction cannot possibly meet my needs. And finally, I need to wrestle with my most basic need – why am I not at peace with what God gives me in this “ordinary” day? That is my challenge!

Charles Ringma, tssf.

Teeter-totter spirituality

Matthew 11:28-30

When we moved our young family to the United States, we couldn’t find a ‘see-saw’ anywhere. When eventually we found a playground with a see-saw, we were told it was called a ‘teeter-totter’. On reflection, the American name is more descriptive than ‘see-saw’: ‘teeter-totter’ describes the way two children play on the equipment.

Each child sits at her end of the long plank and balances up and down. Two ends, a plank, and an elevated pivot are all that it takes to make a see-saw.

Jesus describes a spiritual see-saw at the end of this Sunday’s Gospel reading. There are two ends to the see-saw: one end is ‘Come unto me … and rest’. The other end is ‘Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me’ (Matthew 11:28-30).

These are two poles of Christian life. At one end is the delightful world of prayer, of resting in God, of basking in a relationship with the One who utterly accepts us. At the other end, is the world of ministry, of efforts for the Gospel, of actively caring for others.

Spirituality and pastoral care, being loved by God and loving others. The see-saw reminds us that, though there may be two ends, it is one plank. In the end you cannot separate prayer and ministry.

In the Franciscan tradition, we say we serve God in the Three Ways of ‘Prayer, Study and Work’. These are the three activities into which all Christians are invited. ‘Study’ is like the vertical beam of the see-saw which enables us to pivot between Prayer and Ministry. ‘Study’ is learning from Jesus (Matthew 11:29), considering mindfully both our prayer and our work for the Kingdom.

This is the foundation of the Franciscan idea of an active-contemplative spirituality.

What we learn is that prayer and ministry cannot be separated. They are the same plank, the same life. Some Christians are tempted to spend ‘sweet hours of prayer’, retreating to the safety of spirituality, and never venturing out to practise on others the love which God lavishes on us.

Some find it easy to ignore the pesky questions about God and prayer and put all their effort into social activism, caring for the refugee, standing up against racism, feeding the hungry – all fantastic Franciscan activities – and forget that it is not sustainable. We need also to be fed ourselves, and nurtured and healed.

The wisdom of Jesus is that both are needed: ‘Come unto me…’ and ‘Take my yoke upon you.’ The challenge of the end of this Sunday’s Gospel reading is this: how is your balance on the teeter-totter? Do you move ‘up and down’ between prayer and ministry, or are you stuck at one end or the other? What ‘study’ do you need to help integrate spirituality and ministry?

Following the Followers of Saint Francis – Sister Helen Julian’s new book

Helen Julian CSF, Franciscan Footprints: Following Christ in the ways of Francis and Clare,
Bible Reading Fellowship 2020

Paperback, 144 pages.
From $23 online, Kindle edition $11.99

Reviewed by Ted Witham tssf

Franciscan Footprints, like much of Franciscan spirituality, is deceptively simple. In this helpful and engaging book, Sister Helen Julian, Minister General of the Anglican Community of St Francis, tells the story of about 100 Franciscans over the last 800 years – from Saints Francis and Clare in the 12th Century to Padre Pio and Algy Robertson SSF in the 20th Century.

The stories of mainly individuals and some organisations are presented in nine thematic chapters. The first two chapters tell the stories of the original founders, the two Assisi saints (Francis and Clare), and the founders of the Anglican Franciscans, including Sister Rosina Mary CSF, who founded the Community of Saint Francis in 1905.

The titles of further chapters, ‘Thinkers and Writers’, ‘Mystics and Spiritual Writers’, ‘Social Care, Social Justice’, ‘Martyrs’, ‘Missionaries and Preachers’, ‘Pastors’ and ‘Simply Living’, display the breadth of the Franciscan way of life. Placing each of her characters into these themes allows Sister Helen to ‘follow the followers’ and explore the many paths along which Franciscans follow Jesus.

The Franciscan intellectual tradition is represented strongly by the 13th Century Bonaventure and the 21st Century Sister Ilia Delio.

Many of these Franciscans are new to me. Felix of Cantalice (born 1515) was a ploughman who became a lay Franciscan friar. He begged for the friars in Rome for many years, and was known as Brother Deo Gratias, because he exclaimed, ‘Thanks be to God’ (Deo Gratias) for every gift. He sang simple songs in the street and was beloved of children and the poor. His story is told under ‘Simply Living’: his life was seemingly uneventful, but by faithfully being who he was attracted many.

It was good to see the United Nations NGO Franciscans International in its context as an expression of the Franciscan family’s social care and social justice.

I commend Franciscan Footprints warmly. It is a good book to share within the Franciscan family and beyond.

At his death, Saint Francis said, ‘I have done what is mine to do. May Christ teach you what is yours.’ Helen Julian’s book will help both long-term Franciscans and the curious to learn what Christ is teaching them what their life might be. The characters in her book have made their Franciscan footprints. Readers will find much in this book to help them make their own Franciscan Footprints.

We all like sheep are gone astray

John 10:1-10

One of the tragedies of our times is the war on animals, the war we have been waging for two or three centuries, seizing their territory and subjecting them to ever more inhumane conditions.

Human activity was one of the causes of this year’s bush-fires in the Eastern States which took away from koalas much of their habitat. Iconic species such as the Bengali tiger and the white rhinoceros are on the brink of extinction. Presumably the thylacine (the Tasmanian tiger) and the dodo would still be thriving in Tasmania and Mauritius if human beings had not ravaged their living space.

Only a few wild animals thrive under the relentless expansion of human activity. Mobs of kangaroos near my town relish in the green pasture and endless water supplies human beings have created.

We clobber our domestic animals too. In the past decades, more and more cattle have been squeezed into feed-lots, unable to exercise and terrified by their imprisonment. Battery hens are confined to less than a square metre and never see the sky or scratch in the fresh air.

We use horses and dogs for sport. Not only do they strain to entertain us, but our society allows some of their keepers to inflict on them excruciating pain when they are away from public view.

Our treatment of animals shames us human beings. We are given no licence by Scripture to dominate the environment and crush our fellow-creatures. There is no Biblical excuse for setting ourselves up as gods destroying whatever we will.

We consider ourselves superior to other creatures, but the evidence shows that we do not make a good shepherd. We are cruel and despotic in our treatment of the environment.

In today’s Gospel, John teaches us two things about animals and salvation. The first is that Jesus is the good shepherd. No creature, including us human beings, can put ourselves above other creatures. Jesus is our shepherd, caring for us, and he is the shepherd of all creation, restoring all things, not only the human world.

Secondly, we are called to be part of the community of creatures, living together with animals and ecosystems as our brothers and sisters. This is the great vision of Saint Francis of Assisi: to live in harmony with all life as part of the community of creation.

The Good Shepherd proclaims to us that God will draw into a community all his creation and that we will live in harmony with death adders and scorpions, both of them wild animals Jesus ‘was with in the wilderness’ (Mark 1:13a), as we will with cats, horses, and especially dogs, the animals who have co-evolved with us and who are our familiars.

There are many signs of new life. Most farmers I know are concerned about any animal cruelty and do all in their power to care for their animals. WWF and other organisations keep on reminding us of the plight of the non-human world and establish programs to restore habitat and rescue species. More and more middle-class people express real care for pets. Our Jack Russell Lottie is our little sister, a member of our family. There are new ways of feeding the hungry that do not exploit animals, so I have hope that lifting the poor out of poverty will be done ethically.

– Ted Witham tssf

[‘We have like sheep gone astray.’ (Isaiah 53:6). Quoted in I Peter 2:25, and in the Introduction to Evening Prayer in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer]

The unexpected visit

Timothy Narraway tssf writes:

O God who doesn’t slumber
Nor Sleep,
You came to me in
the watches of the night
in the still small hours,
in darkness,
Before dawn was even a thought
In the black.
There rose on my bed to see
You there at the open door
In the guise of Francis
Dressed in robes of poverty

Beckoning me to come into the garden beyond
You are there. There in
The open door
The door which cannot be shut
Because You have opened it;
A door which speaks of a world beyond
Beyond imagination; in stillness;
A world waiting to be sung into existence
Endless horizons waiting to be explored
With the heart of a Troubadour.

The invitation
“Come and walk (with Me) in the garden”
Not a journey alone, but a journey together
A journey whose invitation delights the heart,
Burning as if on the Emmaus road.
Longing for the undiscovered.

The garden
The sacred grove
Dancing in the Garden of God

With Fire.

Penitence as a Way of Life

Dear Brothers and Sisters of Penance,

Greetings from the Misty Mountain, from Pirrial Clift tssf

I have a friend who lives interstate: we have long chats on the phone about books we are reading and our understandings of ‘Life, the Universe, and Everything’. Recently we spoke of penitence, that hoary, hairy hobgoblin that made life utter misery for many Christians living in the shadow of a fierce and frosty God. My speaking of penitence from a perspective influenced by St. Francis and other friendly Saints intrigued her, and she asked me to write my thoughts down. I offer them here for your consideration as the strangest Holy Week the world has experienced in a long time breaks open most poignantly Jesus’ profound identification with human suffering.

Penitence as a way of life.

In a group of pithy sayings written for his Brothers – ‘the Admonitions’ – Francis said: ‘Consider O human being, in what great excellence the Lord God has placed you, for he created and formed you in the image of his beloved Son according to the body and to his likeness according to the Spirit. And all creatures under heaven serve, know and obey their Creator, each according to its own nature, better than you. And even the demons did not crucify him, but you, together with them, have crucified him, and are still crucifying him by delighting in vices and sins.’

Let’s unpack that a little: the way I understand it, Sister Water for example, praises God by being water – pure, humble and precious. Brother lark by being a lark – the flowers by being flowers. Similarly my daughter Nicole, who won first prize in the Mortlake Show with a handmade teddy bear, found the praise came to her, the creator … ‘Oh isn’t it lovely! Isn’t she clever!

Alone amongst God’s created beings, humans are not content with being what we were created to be – human – made in the image and likeness of God, able to love and reason and create. Not content with being made in God’s likeness, we want to BE God. We crave the power that belongs only to God. [Scripture says, for example Ps 62.11 Once God has spoken, twice have I heard this; that power belongs to God. Verse 12 continues ‘and steadfast love belongs to you, O Lord.’ Power over other human beings and other creatures is sought and fought over by humanity, and alas! It is not accompanied by love. Power to put people down, to corrupt, to violate, to harm in many sad and cruel ways.

In St Francis’ time our Sister Mother Earth was still seen on the whole as a force to be reckoned with – the terrors of the wild oceans, maps marked by signs saying ‘Here be dragons’; the decimation of whole populations by the unseen forces of disease -there were many conundrums which modern science has unlocked. If Francis were alive today he would know that human power has been unleashed against our Sister, Mother Earth herself! As a species we abuse and degrade the one who feeds us in our greedy lust for wealth and power. For instance in many places Sister Water is no longer pure, she has been polluted and defiled…

When we see human beings behaving cruelly we say their behaviour is inhumane – it is an aberration, it is not normal. Human beings were created to reflect God’s goodness. St Irenaeus of Lyon, born in Smyrna Turkey in 150 AD – a theologian, and one of the Church Fathers, said “The Glory of God is a human being fully alive.”
Jesus was fully human, fully humane, as his behaviour while he walked on Mother Earth revealed. Fully humane, as he rejected human glory and success and gave himself for others. No skerrick of lust for power over others lurked in his heart; he was all about celebrating humility, healing, giving new life in various ways – and forgiving people’s sin.

Jesus saw sin as offending, wounding, hurting God. Sin was to be wept over, as he wept over Jerusalem I can get that. I know a woman whose son is in jail, she is grieving and weeping. She asked me to pray, but I have no idea what he’s done – it is so painful she cannot speak the words. We are God’s children, though we often forget it. Jesus, like a mother, is grieving and weeping over our sins and lack of love.

The canticle in APBA [p428] written by Anselm begins:

Jesus, as a mother you gather your people to you:
you are gentle with us as a mother with her children.
Often you weep over our sins and our pride,
tenderly you draw us from hatred and judgement….

Sin also harms the sinning one. Wounds to the soul, the spirit. Wounds which hamper the flourishing of relationships between us and others, and God – sometimes we even hate ourselves.
What some holy people have said about repentance.

Julian of Norwich tells a story that goes something like this: A Christian waits beside the Lord, bursting with love; ready to serve. The Lord makes a request and off she runs, eager to please – but she slips and falls. Up she gets and off she goes, but again she falls, hurting herself so that now she must walk. Too soon she stumbles into a hole and when she clambers out, realising that she cannot go on, she limps back to Jesus, covered in bumps and bruises, wounded and bleeding, her head hanging low – she has failed. Jesus gently lifts her up, heals her wounds, embraces her lovingly, kisses her better – then sends her off, happy and free again.

John Mountney, in a book on Julian entitled Sin can be a Glory, argues that sin can work for us rather than against us if after our inevitable falls we immediately and habitually turn back to Jesus for healing.
Repentance is turning around. Turning from what is harmful towards God; looking at Jesus; occupying ourselves with whatever brings us closer to God is the foundational message of Lent, and was Francis’ foundational message.

St Clare, praying day and night for decades before the San Damiano Crucifix, spoke of gazing at Jesus. Her words have been put to music by Breige O’Hare OSC.

Look, look on Jesus, poor and crucified<
look on this holy one who for your love has died,
And remember as you contemplate the sacred mystery
This Jesus who you gaze upon
loves you most tenderly.
Look, look on Jesus see he is calling you.
Run to him and do not fear, for his love is true.
Let your heart desire him and burn with deepest love
Look how he shines on you
the one from heaven above.

Look, look on Jesus, upon the sacred tree
And as you pass along the way, ponder, attend, and see
if there is any sorrow, like the sorrow he endures
and wonder at the amazing love
which is for ever yours.
Look, look on Jesus see he is calling you.
Run to him and do not fear, for his love is true.
Let your heart desire him and burn with deepest love
Look how he shines on you
the one from heaven above.

Jesus the God of love.

Clare of Assisi
St Francis preached repentance wherever he went – as Jesus himself did. Francis was head-over-heels in love with Jesus, and kept him always in his heart, on his lips and before his inner eyes.

St. Teresa of Avila describes our journey toward God in the Interior Castle. To the baptised she says that Jesus is in the very centre of the castle/our soul, and he is shining, shining. We make our way to him through a myriad passages and rooms with stairs randomly leading in and out; up and down… our task is to keep the light in view; if we cannot see him shining faintly in the distance, we are going the wrong way.

It is imperative that we are aware of our sin. Imagining ourselves perfect is a recipe for disaster, every vestige of humility goes down the drain, and humility is the key to holiness. However it is very important to remember our sin is powerless in the face of God’s eternal love and mercy.

For all the wickedness in the world, that humanity can do or think, is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal dropped in the sea. William Langland

St Bonaventure speaks of the burden, the weight of sin. It weighs so heavily that sometimes we struggle under the load. The psalmist laments about this too. Ps 38. 5
The tide of my iniquities has gone over my head,
their weight is a burden too heavy to bear.
My wounds stink and fester because of my sinful folly…

An overburdened person walks with his head hanging down; his focus is on his misery and the weight on his back. If he were only to look up and fix his eyes on the shining Son – Bonaventure explains – he could be free again.

Focusing on the most important thing.

Allowing oneself to become obsessed with one’s sins is not what repentance is about. Especially when the matter is serious the ancient steps of contrition, confession, and restitution remain vital, and any consequences must be borne with as much grace as we can muster. Then it’s time to re-set our course – turn our eyes away from ourselves, and gaze upon the beauty and goodness of Christ. … beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Phil.4

One way of understanding repentance as a way of life is to imagine being aboard a little boat. You set your compass according to your desired destination and set sail – the great ocean swells and currents, the buffeting winds and rocky outcrops, don’t permit sailing as the crow flies: when the wind drops or you sleep, the boat drifts with the tide. You need to repeatedly correct your course, checking your compass to keep heading in the right direction.

[Search Google Images for Odilon Redon, ‘The Mystical Boat’.]

Those who brood darkly on their sins for too long lose sight of Christ! This unhappy state can lead to a kind of inverted pride, where one comes to believe that ‘my’ sins are so vast that God cannot or will not forgive, putting the lie to the scriptures! Others, who gaze on Christ, returning to him constantly after slipping and falling, will find healing and wholeness.
As Margaret Attwood wrote:

As you travel on through life sister, whatever be your goal,
keep your eye upon the doughnut and not upon the hole.
Which just about sums it up.

pax et bonum,

Pirrial

Coronavirus, liminality and meditation

Let me make clear that there is nothing frivolous about this heading and this is not a flippant suggestion that liminality is some weird psychology and that meditation is a cure for coronavirus.

This reflection also in no way seeks to undermine all that we need to do to stay medically as safe as we can, and to stay connected and caring in appropriate ways.

But it is most likely that most of us will suddenly find that life is no longer “normal.” That our normal routines and rhythms have disappeared and that we find ourselves in unfamiliar territory. This just goes to show how much we are creatures of habit and of regularity.

When these patterns of living suddenly change, and particularly when this is due to external factors, many feel that they have been “thrown off their perch.” Scholars call this entering into a “liminal” space. Liminality has the idea of being in unfamiliar territory and in an “in-between” space. The old has suddenly been interrupted and the new is unclear and uncertain. While one may pine for the “old” and impatiently seek to grab the “new,” the liminal space invites us to something different. While this difference may well involve impatience, we need to embrace a creative waiting. And in this waiting the most productive impulse is “what can I learn here,” and “what may need to change,” and “what new things/patterns need to emerge”? Thus, liminality is akin to pregnancy or being in a “womb-like” state.

Also, we may find that we have more “time on our hands” than usual. This is particularly true of those who can no longer temporarily go to work or who have permanently lost their jobs. And while some will constructively make the most of this extra time, for others this may only increase their anxiety. And this may well result in unhelpful and even destructive forms of behaviour.

One positive and challenging move is to become more self-reflective. The well-known Australian journalist, Paul Kelly, has made the point that the cultivation of “a strong inner life is essential” at this time. He goes on to note that this has certainly not been a preoccupation of “contemporary culture.” And ends with the probing question: “do people [still] know what an inner life means”?

Towards an answer to this challenging question, here are some basic suggestions:

First of all, don’t binge out on all daily barrage of news. Don’t become fixated. Be selective in listening to reliable news sources.

Secondly, develop some new routines in your daily life. This may involve some more time in the garden or walking in the park or reading a good novel or playing games with your children.

Thirdly, in thinking of others find new ways to remain connected, while staying safe.

Fourthly, seek to also become more attentive to yourself.

Fifthly, set some quiet time aside each day to think about some of the following basic issues –
a] How are these changes impacting me: physically, relationally, economically and spiritually?
b] What am I most anxious and concerned about?
c] What changes for the better can I make in these difficult circumstances?
d] What strengths or weaknesses of mine are coming to the fore in this changed environment?
e] What can I hope for regarding the future?

In quietly engaging these and related questions one may use deep breathing techniques, differing forms of prayers, journaling, and art or music.

This call to turn “inward” is most appropriate, not only because of the changed circumstances, but also because this is something we have neglected in the more ordinary realities of life where we are busy, distracted, preoccupied, and non-reflective. In normal life one minute of mindfulness does little to ground and orient us.

And the turn “inward” is not about selfishness. It is to become more aware of ourselves in order to relate better to others and life around us.

For those who are happy to do some exploring within the Christian faith tradition, here are some rich resources you may wish to engage in order to deepen your reflections and your meditative or contemplative practices –

St. Augustine. The Confessions. Translator Maria Boulding. Hyde Park, NY: New City Press, 2001.

Bernard of Clairvaux: Selected Works. Editor Emilie Griffin. New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2005.

Ilia Delio. Franciscan Prayer. Cincinnati, OH: St. Anthony Messenger Press, 2004.

Hildegard of Bingen: Selections from Her Writings. Editor Emilie Griffin. New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2005.

Julian of Norwich. Revelations of Divine Love. Translator Clifton Wolters. London: Penguin, 1966.

Bernard McGinn, ed. The Essential Writings of Christian Mysticism. New York: The Modern Library, 2006.

J. Philip Newell. Celtic Treasure: Daily Scriptures and Prayers. Norwich, UK: Canterbury Press, 2005.

The Desert Fathers. Translator Helen Waddell. New York: Vintage, 1998.

So, keep safe. Stay connected as appropriate. Change some of your routines. Don’t be afraid of this “in-between” space. Do become more reflective. And journey a little deeper into the rich resources of Christian spirituality.

Shalom,

Charles Ringma, tssf.
.

Christians, Covid-19 and Martin Luther

In 1527, the reformer Martin Luther was asked how Christians should respond to the plague. His response is gentle and challenging. You can download the whole letter from Lutheran Witness here.
His words are surprisingly relevant for us in 2020 as we face the upheaval of Covid-19. These are the four points I gleaned from his letter.

1. Trust God – not tempt God
‘Why bother with all this social distancing and hand-washing? God will look after us.’ It is disappointing to hear this from fellow-Christians. Luther claims to admire those who have such strong faith, but most of us need to do what we can to minimise risk to ourselves and to others. Christians who ignore expert advice and carry on hand-shaking and not taking precautions are ‘putting the Lord their God to the test.’ (DEUTERONOMY 6:16)

2. Love your neighbour, which is loving Jesus.
This is a time to look out for your neighbour, particularly your vulnerable neighbour. We should be ‘caremongering’ and not scaremongering. Caring for neighbour, even if that somewhat elevates the risks, is the way we show love for God. ‘Even as you did not do this to the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ (MATTHEW 25:45)

3. Don’t run from responsibility
There are people who are loading their vehicles with stores and heading out to farms where they plan to live ‘off the grid’ for as long as the pandemic runs.
Luther begins his letter by addressing ‘Whether One May Flee from a Deadly Plague’. In itself he can find no sin in running from the plague. Luther’s concern is that people with responsibility in both spheres of life, preachers and politicians, should not run away from their duties.
Clergy need to stay in their post to accompany their parishioners on their journeys through illness and death. Even if they cannot be physically present with their people, they should devise means of encouraging them in a time of fear. Our age has the internet, and churches are using email, Skype and live-streaming to maintain Christian connection as well as possible.

4. Choose life – not resign yourself to death
We Aussies sometimes say, ‘If your number is up, it’s up’ in a fatalistic acceptance of death. Christians, however, should ‘choose life’. (DEUTERONOMY 30:19)
Death is part of life, and we should not fear it. We should approach the possibility of our own death through this time of plague with the assurance that whatever we think follows this life is better than we can imagine. (I CORINTHIANS 2:9) On the other hand, we should honour the life that we have been given now by living it to the full, in self-giving to our neighbour and in gratitude to God.
To me that means living mindfully and choosing to find and share joy where we can.
– Ted Witham tssf
– 21 March 2020

Bear