A while back (quite a while, by now), my friend Lime posted (in two installments) a list of 15 books (which turned out to be 16, but I'm not fussy) that had a dramatic impact on her life (she got the idea from Suldog, so credit where it’s due. . .) It was such a cool idea, that I decided to do a book list of my own. Besides which, I've been thinking for a while of posting a list of my favorite books, so Lime and Suldog mostly just nudged me to do what I'd already been thinking of doing. However, I’m neither disciplined nor ruthless enough to pare my list down to 15 books. And the books I’m giving you are something of a random mix of ‘Books That Have Had a Dramatic Impact on My Life’, ‘Books That I Thought Were Really Good', ‘Books That I’d Like to Have With Me On a Desert Island’, ‘Books That I’d Recommend to a Friend’, and probably a few other sub-categories, besides. It will probably be quite a mishmash, so please bear with me. And when I’m done, you can tell me if it was worth it. . .
I suppose I should start with the Bible, even though there’s a part of me that resists that. I mean, it’s a bit like praising motherhood – it can seem kinda trite, and ‘yeah, well, of course’. But if we’re talking about books that have radically shaped my thinking, it all starts here. And the Bible has shaped the thinking of most of the books which have also shaped my thinking. . .
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That said, I’ll start with three books that I lump under the heading of ‘Christian Classics’ that have significantly shaped my thinking and my life, and which I enthusiastically recommend to any of my friends –
Confessions, by St. Augustine. "You have made us for Yourself, O Lord; and our hearts are restless until they rest in You." Augustine’s autobiographical account of his conversion to Christianity. It is fascinating for the manner in which Augustine gives his readers an open look into his soul. And his is a great soul, and a titanic intellect. Some of his thoughts on science and religion, for example, are many centuries ahead of their time, and startlingly appropriate in the present day.
The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas a Kempis. After the Bible, the most-read Christian book of all time, and justly so. It reads like a medieval Christian Book of Proverbs, and is full of profound wisdom. One of my favorites: “If you had a good conscience, you would not fear death so much, and it would be better for you to abandon sin than to fear death." And so on it goes. . .
Pensees, by Blaise Pascal. I picked this up because I was intrigued by Pascal’s reputation as a genius of physics/mathematics. But I wasn’t very far into it before I realized that it was a Christian spiritual classic in its own right. For a 17th-century writer, Pascal understands the modern soul really well: “The sole cause of man's unhappiness is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room." Or, “Reason's last step is the recognition that there are an infinite number of things which are beyond it.” Wonderful stuff. The Pensees can be a bit of a disjointed read, since Pascal died (at age 39) before he could beat it into a coherent whole, but what he left us is no less rewarding of the reader who picks it up. . .
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Next, a few of what I’ll call ‘Modern Spiritual Classics’ –
The Everlasting Man, by GK Chesterton. My college roommate first gave me this book, and by the time I finished it, I wondered why I had never heard of Chesterton before then. Chesterton has an amazing gift for turning the world around on itself, and seeing the absurdities of the world where most people (myself most definitely included) miss them. His Orthodoxy is also excellent.
Mere Christianity, by CS Lewis. One of the first of Lewis’ books that I read, back in college. I don’t really think it’s his best book, but it’s a gateway to most everything else he wrote. For sheer inspiration, and formation of my thought, I think the title essay in The Weight of Glory is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever read – “Aside from the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest thing that will ever be presented to your senses.” Miracles and The Problem of Pain are also terrific books. As are his books of fiction – I have especially loved Lewis’ Space Trilogy (I might be unusual in that Out of the Silent Planet – the first book of the trilogy – is my favorite), and we have read the Chronicles of Narnia to our kids many times over.
Love Is Stronger Than Death, by Peter Kreeft. My favorite book by my favorite living author. Kreeft has an amazing ability to cut through the confusion and help his readers to see things truly. The analogy between birth and death that Kreeft presents in this book is simply incredible. Other books by Kreeft worth looking into are Making Choices (sort of a ‘Moral Philosopy 101’ book) and Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Heaven, which (its cheesy-awful title notwithstanding) contains some wonderful speculative theology. He’s also written good ‘introductory’ books on Pascal and Thomas Aquinas that are worth the price, and his Socratic dialogues were one of my early introductions to the joys of philosophy. . .
I’ll also mention What We Can’t Not Know, by J. Budziszewski, which is sort of an introductory course in Natural Law. I know that not all, even of my Christian blog-friends, appreciate Natural Law philosophy, but after reading Chesterton, Lewis and Kreeft, I realized that Natural Law corresponded pretty closely to my own developing thoughts on Life and Morality and The Universe. And Budziszewski (boo-ji-SHEF-ski) has written the best popular-level books on Natural Law that I’ve come across (I’ve just recently finished The Line Through the Heart; Written On the Heart is also excellent).
And I should also mention the late Pope John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, published as Man and Woman He Created Them. The late pope’s thoughts on human sexuality just revolutionized my thinking when I first encountered them. John Paul’s reasoning is very dense, and can be a pretty tough slog (but ultimately rewarding of the effort, if you can work through it); some might prefer Sam Torode’s Theology of the Body in Simple Language, which simplifies the pope’s language, without dumbing it down.
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A couple of newer books of 'social commentary', which probably don't quite count as 'classics' just yet, but which I've deeply enjoyed -
Real Choices, by Frederica Mathewes-Green. The best, most insightful book I've ever encountered on the issue of abortion. Frederica understands both sides of the question; in particular, she understands the desperation of women who "want an abortion the way an animal caught in a trap wants to gnaw off its own leg", and yet she never shies away from the awful truth of the question. If "everyone knows it's a baby", the question remains - why do women still seek abortions? Or, more to the point, why do so many of them come to believe that killing their baby is their only viable option? And just to ask that question leads in some very insightful directions. This book is full of both compassion and truth, and gives cause for squirming to partisans of both sides. One last quote - "Any society that pits mothers against their children in a fight to the death, is going insane."
Mudhouse Sabbath, by Lauren Winner. The author is a recent (at least, at the time of writing) convert to Christianity, after having been an Orthodox Jew, and she writes very insightfully about the 'touch points' she's found between Judaism and Christianity, and how her Christian life is enriched by her Jewish past. A fascinating book (and the source of inspiration for Molly's-and-my Sunday Morning Tradition). Lauren Winner might be better known for her book Real Sex, an account of her life in the 'typical American' sexual lifestyle, and how she found it wanting (as a footnote along the same lines, I'll also mention Dawn Eden's The Thrill of the Chaste)
This post is already in danger of being unreadably long, so I’ll break it off here, and continue in another post. . .
Showing posts with label christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christianity. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Thursday, July 24, 2008
As the Ruin Falls
As the Ruin Falls (by CS Lewis)
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love – a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek –
But self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.
For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.
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I'll be gone volunteering at a kids' summer camp, starting Saturday, and I'll be gone all next week. Try to keep things together in my absence, and I'll see you all in August. . .
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love – a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek –
But self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.
For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.
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I'll be gone volunteering at a kids' summer camp, starting Saturday, and I'll be gone all next week. Try to keep things together in my absence, and I'll see you all in August. . .
Monday, March 3, 2008
Lent
During Lent, I am struck again and again with the conviction that the Christian life is a lot more serious than I generally take it to be. It is so easy to play at Christianity – to talk the jargon, do the theology, know the Scriptures, even – to get real good at the outward appearances, but miss the inner transformation, the knowledge of God.
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“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the kingdom of Heaven, but he who does the will of my Father in Heaven.” (Matthew 7:21)
“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us” (from The Weight of Glory, by CS Lewis)
Alas; and I am the most half-hearted of all. I cannot escape the conviction that God is in deadly earnest about a way of life that I’m content to dabble with at my leisure. But –
“When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die.” (from The Cost of Discipleship, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer)
I just want to drop the pretenses. I know who I am before God; I’m certainly not fooling God.
“Before Him no creature is hidden, but all are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do.” (Hebrews 4:13)
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O Lord, have mercy. I may fool myself, but I don’t fool you. You “discern the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12); “you know my inmost being” (ref. Psalm 139:13-16). Alas, alas. Not a pretty picture, is it? And yet you won’t let go of me; you won’t leave me to my own devices, no matter how half-hearted I am.
O Lord, I only want to know you. And yet I find that the biggest obstacle to my knowing you is. . . myself. I ought to pray, but I am irresolute. Too often, I go through the motions, “warmed from without, but not aflame within” (Imitation of Christ 3:2).
And yet, O Lord, you call me on, for reasons I can’t discern, except that your love and mercy are unfathomable. . .
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“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the kingdom of Heaven, but he who does the will of my Father in Heaven.” (Matthew 7:21)
“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us” (from The Weight of Glory, by CS Lewis)
Alas; and I am the most half-hearted of all. I cannot escape the conviction that God is in deadly earnest about a way of life that I’m content to dabble with at my leisure. But –
“When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die.” (from The Cost of Discipleship, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer)
I just want to drop the pretenses. I know who I am before God; I’m certainly not fooling God.
“Before Him no creature is hidden, but all are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do.” (Hebrews 4:13)
-------------------------
O Lord, have mercy. I may fool myself, but I don’t fool you. You “discern the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12); “you know my inmost being” (ref. Psalm 139:13-16). Alas, alas. Not a pretty picture, is it? And yet you won’t let go of me; you won’t leave me to my own devices, no matter how half-hearted I am.
O Lord, I only want to know you. And yet I find that the biggest obstacle to my knowing you is. . . myself. I ought to pray, but I am irresolute. Too often, I go through the motions, “warmed from without, but not aflame within” (Imitation of Christ 3:2).
And yet, O Lord, you call me on, for reasons I can’t discern, except that your love and mercy are unfathomable. . .
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
He Is Risen!
"He is not here; he is risen, as he said."
- The Gospel of Matthew, chapter 28, verse 6
"and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is in vain."
- The First Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians, chapter 15, verse 17-------------------------
This past Sunday was Easter, or, as it might more truly be called, the Feast of the Resurrection. My Eastern Orthodox brethren call it Pascha, which is wonderfully evocative of the imagery of the Jewish Passover, and all the connections that evokes - the Sacrifice Lamb, and all that.
Easter, or, more to the point, the Resurrection, is the very crux and focal point of Christianity, its sine qua non - without the Resurrection, you don't have Christianity. With it, you have everything.
Over the years, I've had many rich meditations related to Christmas and the Incarnation - it has been an almost limitless source of deep and textured thought for me. Not so Easter and the Resurrection, and I'm at a bit of a loss to explain why. I mean, theologically, and all sorts of other ways (except commercially, I suppose) the Resurrection is a much bigger deal than the Incarnation, so why should I be so full of thoughts on Christmas, and so reticent about Easter?
I think, when you come right down to it, that there really isn't all that much to say about Easter - it is what it is, or it's nothing at all. Very stark, very cut-and-dried. Either Christ is risen, and Christianity is true, and we all owe our lives and our very being to the God who raised Him, or He isn't, and 2000 years of Christianity is a lie and a sham. Those are pretty much the only possibilities. Yes or no? And all of life hangs on the answer you give to that question.
It is easy for me to get rather overly 'theological' about it, but the basic fact of the matter is straightforward - either the tomb was empty, or it wasn't. If it wasn't, then there really is no particular story to tell - a good man died unjustly, a sad story, but history is full of those. But if the tomb was empty, then that demands that we come to terms with that very brute fact, and its implications for our lives. There is no in-between position available.
For myself, I can say that, "I know whom I have believed." (II Timothy 1:12). And I am only too happy to encourage any of you to make His acquaintance. I can honestly say that knowing Christ has made all the difference, and "the power of His resurrection" has transformed my life.
But each of you must reach his/her own conclusions - "what do you make of Christ?" And the whole Universe hangs in the balance. . .
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As my Orthodox brethren say,
Christos Anesti! Alethos Anesti!
Christ is Risen! He is Risen indeed!
Happy Easter, everyone!
(10 comments)
- The Gospel of Matthew, chapter 28, verse 6
"and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is in vain."
- The First Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians, chapter 15, verse 17-------------------------
This past Sunday was Easter, or, as it might more truly be called, the Feast of the Resurrection. My Eastern Orthodox brethren call it Pascha, which is wonderfully evocative of the imagery of the Jewish Passover, and all the connections that evokes - the Sacrifice Lamb, and all that.
Easter, or, more to the point, the Resurrection, is the very crux and focal point of Christianity, its sine qua non - without the Resurrection, you don't have Christianity. With it, you have everything.
Over the years, I've had many rich meditations related to Christmas and the Incarnation - it has been an almost limitless source of deep and textured thought for me. Not so Easter and the Resurrection, and I'm at a bit of a loss to explain why. I mean, theologically, and all sorts of other ways (except commercially, I suppose) the Resurrection is a much bigger deal than the Incarnation, so why should I be so full of thoughts on Christmas, and so reticent about Easter?
I think, when you come right down to it, that there really isn't all that much to say about Easter - it is what it is, or it's nothing at all. Very stark, very cut-and-dried. Either Christ is risen, and Christianity is true, and we all owe our lives and our very being to the God who raised Him, or He isn't, and 2000 years of Christianity is a lie and a sham. Those are pretty much the only possibilities. Yes or no? And all of life hangs on the answer you give to that question.
It is easy for me to get rather overly 'theological' about it, but the basic fact of the matter is straightforward - either the tomb was empty, or it wasn't. If it wasn't, then there really is no particular story to tell - a good man died unjustly, a sad story, but history is full of those. But if the tomb was empty, then that demands that we come to terms with that very brute fact, and its implications for our lives. There is no in-between position available.
For myself, I can say that, "I know whom I have believed." (II Timothy 1:12). And I am only too happy to encourage any of you to make His acquaintance. I can honestly say that knowing Christ has made all the difference, and "the power of His resurrection" has transformed my life.
But each of you must reach his/her own conclusions - "what do you make of Christ?" And the whole Universe hangs in the balance. . .
-------------------------
As my Orthodox brethren say,
Christos Anesti! Alethos Anesti!
Christ is Risen! He is Risen indeed!
Happy Easter, everyone!
(10 comments)
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence
An old hymn, from the 4th-century Liturgy of St. James (translated from Greek into English by Gerard Moultrie):
Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence
Let all mortal flesh keep silence
And in fear and trembling stand.
Ponder nothing earthly-minded,
For with blessing in His hand
Christ our God to earth descendeth
Our full homage to demand.
King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood.
Lord of lords in human vesture,
In the body and the blood.
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of Heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of Hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
At His feet the six-winged seraph;
Cherubim with sleepless eye
Veil their faces to the Presence
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Alleluia, Lord Most High!
(8 comments)
Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence
Let all mortal flesh keep silence
And in fear and trembling stand.
Ponder nothing earthly-minded,
For with blessing in His hand
Christ our God to earth descendeth
Our full homage to demand.
King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood.
Lord of lords in human vesture,
In the body and the blood.
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of Heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of Hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
At His feet the six-winged seraph;
Cherubim with sleepless eye
Veil their faces to the Presence
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Alleluia, Lord Most High!
(8 comments)
Friday, March 2, 2007
Holy Shit
And [Jesus] told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came seeking fruit on it and found none. And he said to the vinedresser, ‘Lo, these three years I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none. Cut it down; why should it use up the ground?’ And he answered him, ‘Let it alone for one more year, sir, while I hoe it and manure it. And if it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, cut it down.” (Luke 13:6-9)
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It being Lent, I am in a ‘penitential’ frame of mind – taking a ‘spiritual inventory’ of my life, and trying, with God’s help, to address areas of weakness and sin. This Parable of the Fig Tree has always had a certain poignancy to me.
There are many ways in which this parable has been interpreted over the centuries, but I’ve always tended to read it as though the fig tree is me, and my life. And I ask myself, have I borne fruit? When my Master comes to me, does He find the fruit that He’s looking for?
And I get a certain chuckle from the last couple verses. Loosely re-translated (call it the DJV – Desmond Jones Version), the vinedresser (the Holy Spirit?) says, “Let me whack on it and throw some shit on it, and see if it bears fruit.” And I get a wry smile at the metaphorical notion that our lives become more fruitful when we get some shit thrown on us. Maybe we get humbler, as the ‘shit’ that comes our way breaks down our pride. Maybe we finally begin to address some weakness or character flaw when the ‘shit’ that gets thrown at us makes it apparent. Mother Theresa said that ‘there is no spiritual growth without suffering’, and whether she had this parable in mind or not, this is essentially how I tend to understand her. Throwing some shit on my garden makes it more fruitful; is it possible that the ‘shit’ that gets thrown at me has an analogous effect on my spiritual life?
And, I look at the shit that’s come our way over the last few years, and I hope so. . .
(11 comments)
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It being Lent, I am in a ‘penitential’ frame of mind – taking a ‘spiritual inventory’ of my life, and trying, with God’s help, to address areas of weakness and sin. This Parable of the Fig Tree has always had a certain poignancy to me.
There are many ways in which this parable has been interpreted over the centuries, but I’ve always tended to read it as though the fig tree is me, and my life. And I ask myself, have I borne fruit? When my Master comes to me, does He find the fruit that He’s looking for?
And I get a certain chuckle from the last couple verses. Loosely re-translated (call it the DJV – Desmond Jones Version), the vinedresser (the Holy Spirit?) says, “Let me whack on it and throw some shit on it, and see if it bears fruit.” And I get a wry smile at the metaphorical notion that our lives become more fruitful when we get some shit thrown on us. Maybe we get humbler, as the ‘shit’ that comes our way breaks down our pride. Maybe we finally begin to address some weakness or character flaw when the ‘shit’ that gets thrown at us makes it apparent. Mother Theresa said that ‘there is no spiritual growth without suffering’, and whether she had this parable in mind or not, this is essentially how I tend to understand her. Throwing some shit on my garden makes it more fruitful; is it possible that the ‘shit’ that gets thrown at me has an analogous effect on my spiritual life?
And, I look at the shit that’s come our way over the last few years, and I hope so. . .
(11 comments)
Friday, December 22, 2006
Christmas Poetry Corner
Good Is the Flesh (by Brian Wren)
Good is the flesh that the Word has become
Good is the birthing, the milk in the breast,
Good is the feeding, caressing and rest,
Good is the body for knowing the world,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
Good is the body for knowing the world,
Sensing the sunlight, the tug of the ground,
Feeling, perceiving, within and around,
Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become
Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Growing and aging; arousing, impaired
Happy in clothing, or lovingly bared,
Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh.
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh,
Longing in all, as in Jesus to dwell,
Glad of embracing and tasting and smell,
Good is the body, for good and for God,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
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I love this poem because it is so ‘incarnational’. It bespeaks God, in Christ, taking on human flesh – that life in the body is good, and the dignity of human bodily life is only enhanced by God taking it on Himself. Through the Incarnation, God takes our embodied-ness, and fills it with Himself. No longer is He remote from us; His knowledge of us is not merely that of ‘Creator on High’ – He has walked in our world as one of us, hungered and thirsted, stubbed His toe, and ultimately, died.
“Good is the flesh,” indeed. It is not merely that God created human flesh, although it has a dignity that inheres simply to God having made it, and in His image, no less. But even more, the Word became flesh. Emmanuel – God with us.
Awesome.
(14 comments)
Good is the flesh that the Word has become
Good is the birthing, the milk in the breast,
Good is the feeding, caressing and rest,
Good is the body for knowing the world,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
Good is the body for knowing the world,
Sensing the sunlight, the tug of the ground,
Feeling, perceiving, within and around,
Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become
Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Growing and aging; arousing, impaired
Happy in clothing, or lovingly bared,
Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh.
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh,
Longing in all, as in Jesus to dwell,
Glad of embracing and tasting and smell,
Good is the body, for good and for God,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
-------------------------
I love this poem because it is so ‘incarnational’. It bespeaks God, in Christ, taking on human flesh – that life in the body is good, and the dignity of human bodily life is only enhanced by God taking it on Himself. Through the Incarnation, God takes our embodied-ness, and fills it with Himself. No longer is He remote from us; His knowledge of us is not merely that of ‘Creator on High’ – He has walked in our world as one of us, hungered and thirsted, stubbed His toe, and ultimately, died.
“Good is the flesh,” indeed. It is not merely that God created human flesh, although it has a dignity that inheres simply to God having made it, and in His image, no less. But even more, the Word became flesh. Emmanuel – God with us.
Awesome.
(14 comments)
Friday, December 15, 2006
Behold, How Good and Pleasant It Is
When I started this blog, I never expected or intended to say much about the Christian community that Molly and I are part of. I didn't really mean for this to be a 'Christian' blog, although I certainly didn't intend to hide who I am or what my life is about. When I started, I mainly intended to talk about my family, and my marriage to Molly, and a little bit of married sex, just to keep you all interested. I didn't think that our community would be all that interesting to you all, and besides, it's a little hard to explain. But, in recent weeks, it has become clear to me (and probably to many of you) that I can't really tell you about myself without being pretty up-front and explicit about our community (and a few of you have asked me to tell more about it). So, here goes. . .
Back in September, I made this post, describing my spiritual journey, and it might be helpful if you read that before plowing ahead here. As I said, when I went to college, I was introduced to what, to my eyes, was a really cool prayer meeting.
In the late '60s and early '70s, Christian stuff was popping up all over the place - Jesus freaks and all that good stuff. This was a 'charismatic' prayer meeting (for a brief description of the charismatic movement, this isn't too bad). By the time I got there, in the fall of '73, it was a weekly prayer meeting with around 200 people in attendance. Of course, enthusiastic young Christian that I was, I was fairly blown away by it, and immediately made it part of my regular routine.
At the time that I arrived, there was quite a bit of ferment going on in the life of the prayer group. There was a growing conviction among many of the folks that, in order to 'go deeper' in the Christian life, we needed to have some kind of a 'life together'. In order to really grow in Christian life and character, we needed to have some more definite, structured way to support and encourage each other, and 'call each other on'. So, most of my freshman year, there was a series of meetings and presentations aimed at exploring what such a 'life together' would look like, and how it would work. At the end of the school year, about 80 people, my 18-year-old self among them, made a commitment to live in community together with each other, whatever that would mean. I went home to my parents for the summer.
When I returned the following fall, the life of the new community was underway. Most of the members had moved into households with each other, and those of us living on campus in the dorms arranged to live on the same floors in the same dorms with each other, so we could have enough direct contact with each other to actively support each other. We would pray together, a lot, and meet to discuss issues in our lives, and how we could more effectively live as Christians in the circumstances of our daily lives.
The community had a 'pastoral' structure, with each member having a 'pastoral head' with whom they met regularly (usually weekly, in those early days) to discuss their lives. In those early, 'formative' days, pastoral input was often direct, challenging, and, um, intense. Sometimes, the leadership crossed lines into some overly rigid and controlling stuff, and I suppose that I experienced some of that myself. I was usually able, though, to see the component of it that had my best interest in mind. Some folks quit the community because they felt overly manipulated and controlled; I can acknowledge what they experienced, while still saying that I experienced far more benefit than pain.
Words like 'cult' were occasionally thrown our way, but I can't say with any justice. No one ever tried to keep me from my family, or get me to sign away my paycheck. I've already told you the story of how Molly and I met and married; you can rest easy that no one 'arranged' it for us. I discussed 'major life decisions' with my leaders, but the decisions were mine alone.
I should be clear here that the community is voluntary, and intentional. We are also not a church - virtually all of our members belong to their own churches, and our community life is independent of our churches or parishes. We're also 'ecumenical' - our members belong to a whole range of churches - Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran, Methodist, and probably a few others that I can't think of right now. Catholics might best understand us as a kind of lay religious order, akin to the Third Order Franciscans or Opus Dei.
I graduated from college, and took a job that would allow me to maintain my involvement in the community. Once I was more or less 'established' in my job, I started looking for a wife; Molly and I began our 'courtship' that fall, and we were married the following summer.
In the early '80s, the community went through a period of major upheaval, prompted in part by some pretty extreme abuse of authority on the part of one of the 'senior' leaders. We went from a membership of around 500 to less than half that in the course of about a year.
But I also think that a large component of it was that community members were becoming 'grown-ups'. When we began in '74 with 80 or so members, there were five or six married couples, and one child; maybe two of our 'founding members' were over 30. In the late '70s and early '80s, dozens of community members (Molly and I among them) married each other, and by '82 or so, the character of the community had pretty completely changed over from a group of mainly young singles to a group of young married folks. And as we started having children and families, we started drawing more lines in terms of what we were available to do (looking back, I don't know how the families that joined us in the 'early days' managed to do it; the 'single-ness' of the community in those days was pretty clueless when it came to how families needed to work).
And, for the last 20 years, the life of our community has been more or less like that - couples and families, and young singles (we have maintained a campus 'outreach' all along), pursuing a Christian way of life together, mutually supporting and encouraging each other in that life.
I don't know if I've been able to do justice to the task of describing our community, but perhaps this will help you all understand what I've been talking about. If I've left something unclear to you, please don't hesitate to ask for clarification.
(14 comments)
Back in September, I made this post, describing my spiritual journey, and it might be helpful if you read that before plowing ahead here. As I said, when I went to college, I was introduced to what, to my eyes, was a really cool prayer meeting.
In the late '60s and early '70s, Christian stuff was popping up all over the place - Jesus freaks and all that good stuff. This was a 'charismatic' prayer meeting (for a brief description of the charismatic movement, this isn't too bad). By the time I got there, in the fall of '73, it was a weekly prayer meeting with around 200 people in attendance. Of course, enthusiastic young Christian that I was, I was fairly blown away by it, and immediately made it part of my regular routine.
At the time that I arrived, there was quite a bit of ferment going on in the life of the prayer group. There was a growing conviction among many of the folks that, in order to 'go deeper' in the Christian life, we needed to have some kind of a 'life together'. In order to really grow in Christian life and character, we needed to have some more definite, structured way to support and encourage each other, and 'call each other on'. So, most of my freshman year, there was a series of meetings and presentations aimed at exploring what such a 'life together' would look like, and how it would work. At the end of the school year, about 80 people, my 18-year-old self among them, made a commitment to live in community together with each other, whatever that would mean. I went home to my parents for the summer.
When I returned the following fall, the life of the new community was underway. Most of the members had moved into households with each other, and those of us living on campus in the dorms arranged to live on the same floors in the same dorms with each other, so we could have enough direct contact with each other to actively support each other. We would pray together, a lot, and meet to discuss issues in our lives, and how we could more effectively live as Christians in the circumstances of our daily lives.
The community had a 'pastoral' structure, with each member having a 'pastoral head' with whom they met regularly (usually weekly, in those early days) to discuss their lives. In those early, 'formative' days, pastoral input was often direct, challenging, and, um, intense. Sometimes, the leadership crossed lines into some overly rigid and controlling stuff, and I suppose that I experienced some of that myself. I was usually able, though, to see the component of it that had my best interest in mind. Some folks quit the community because they felt overly manipulated and controlled; I can acknowledge what they experienced, while still saying that I experienced far more benefit than pain.
Words like 'cult' were occasionally thrown our way, but I can't say with any justice. No one ever tried to keep me from my family, or get me to sign away my paycheck. I've already told you the story of how Molly and I met and married; you can rest easy that no one 'arranged' it for us. I discussed 'major life decisions' with my leaders, but the decisions were mine alone.
I should be clear here that the community is voluntary, and intentional. We are also not a church - virtually all of our members belong to their own churches, and our community life is independent of our churches or parishes. We're also 'ecumenical' - our members belong to a whole range of churches - Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran, Methodist, and probably a few others that I can't think of right now. Catholics might best understand us as a kind of lay religious order, akin to the Third Order Franciscans or Opus Dei.
I graduated from college, and took a job that would allow me to maintain my involvement in the community. Once I was more or less 'established' in my job, I started looking for a wife; Molly and I began our 'courtship' that fall, and we were married the following summer.
In the early '80s, the community went through a period of major upheaval, prompted in part by some pretty extreme abuse of authority on the part of one of the 'senior' leaders. We went from a membership of around 500 to less than half that in the course of about a year.
But I also think that a large component of it was that community members were becoming 'grown-ups'. When we began in '74 with 80 or so members, there were five or six married couples, and one child; maybe two of our 'founding members' were over 30. In the late '70s and early '80s, dozens of community members (Molly and I among them) married each other, and by '82 or so, the character of the community had pretty completely changed over from a group of mainly young singles to a group of young married folks. And as we started having children and families, we started drawing more lines in terms of what we were available to do (looking back, I don't know how the families that joined us in the 'early days' managed to do it; the 'single-ness' of the community in those days was pretty clueless when it came to how families needed to work).
And, for the last 20 years, the life of our community has been more or less like that - couples and families, and young singles (we have maintained a campus 'outreach' all along), pursuing a Christian way of life together, mutually supporting and encouraging each other in that life.
I don't know if I've been able to do justice to the task of describing our community, but perhaps this will help you all understand what I've been talking about. If I've left something unclear to you, please don't hesitate to ask for clarification.
(14 comments)
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
How I Got This Way - My Spiritual Journey
It seems the time is ripe for me to lay down for blogging posterity the salient features of my own spiritual journey. It’s a fairly long, convoluted story, but I’ll try to beat it down to manageable proportions for your edification and enjoyment. . .
I grew up in a pretty plain-vanilla mainline-Protestant church; I suppose it would be called ‘theologically liberal’, but of course as a kid growing up, that label wouldn’t have meant much to me. We heard all the usual Bible stories, and about the life of Jesus. Looking back, it laid a good foundation on which to build, but at the time, it was mostly just ‘cultural background’, sort of on the order of Beethoven’s symphonies.
When I was in high school, I began to wrestle with the ‘big questions’ – does God exist? What’s the meaning of life? How should I live? Why? Or why not? And such as those.
Our church had an active and engaging high school youth group, and several of my closest friends also belonged. We did a lot of interesting activities together – service projects, plays, and all manner of things – but, when it came to the ‘big questions’, the answers I was given were oddly unsatisfying. “Be nice to people”; “Serve your fellow man”; and things of that order. Fine things, all of them, but they didn’t really get at the questions I was asking.
The summer I was 14, I went to a church camp sponsored by the state conference of our church. There I had what I can only describe as a personal experience of God. Suddenly, all the Bible stories, everything I’d heard over the years – it all made sense. This was it! Once I came to know in person the God who was behind it all, everything fell into place for me, and all the ‘big questions’ were getting suitable answers as well. Does God exist? – well, having experienced him personally, the answer seemed kind of obvious. What’s the meaning of life? – well, if God exists, that answer would seem rather self-explanatory. How should I live? – again, having met God personally, it was clear that I should live my life in accordance with the God of the Universe.
And it was also clear that this God had revealed himself concretely in the person of Jesus Christ. Suddenly I understood that Jesus wasn’t just a ‘great teacher’ – he was God-in-human-flesh. I didn’t have any idea of the ‘theology’ involved, but I understood in a deep way that it was True. And I understood from my own experience that God had sent the Holy Spirit – who I had previously thought of in only the vaguest, most abstract terms – to live within me in some mysterious and exciting way. I didn’t know any of this from being taught in a sermon – I knew it from my own direct, personal experience of it.
And I went through high school living this newfound Christian life as best I could, sometimes struggling, sometimes thriving, but always fortified by the knowledge of what I had experienced of Jesus and the Holy Spirit in my life. Every summer, I went back to camp, and got my ‘batteries recharged’.
When I went to college, there was, as there is for most college students, a major discontinuity in the circumstances of my life - I didn’t have the familiar surroundings that I’d grown up with. In particular, when Sunday morning rolled around, I didn’t really have any place to go. I knew that I wanted to continue with my Christian life, but it was not at all clear how I would go about doing that in my new context. I ran into some of my ‘camp friends’ who went to the same school, and they told me about a really cool prayer meeting, and so I went, and I came into contact with the Christian community that sponsored the prayer meeting. But there was a whole Christian ‘life-together’ behind it all, and I was immediately attracted to such an intense way of pursuing the Christian life. As soon as I could, I joined the community, and in one way or another, I’ve belonged to it ever since.
Around the same time, I started dating a girl (not Molly). She was Catholic, and she often invited me to come to Mass with her. I had no place better to be, and besides, I kinda liked hanging around her, so I usually went along. My first few masses were real eye-opening. I’d been prepared for the Mass to be really dead and boring, and barely Christian (such were the portrayals of Catholicism that I’d acquired in my life), but instead, I found it full of prayer, and Scripture was woven all through it. I was actually quite favorably impressed.
I also began my own study on the history of Christianity – I wanted to know more about how this living faith I’d acquired had gotten all the way from Bible times to me. Our community aspired to live a Christian life as much like what we saw in the Bible as we could manage, and I was fascinated by the question of how the ‘second generation’ of Christians had received the faith from the apostles, and how they carried it forward in their own day. I read the early church Fathers, and various histories by authors I respected. And as I did, I became more impressed by the notion that the Catholic church was probably the best I could do as far as being in continuity with all of Christian history.
The girl and I eventually broke up, but by that time, I was already thinking of Catholicism as ‘home’, and in the fullness of time, I was received into the Catholic church.
Since then, my Christian faith has become deeper, stronger and (I hope) more mature. I've discovered the Catholic 'philosophical tradition', and grown in my appreciation of the sacramental life of the Church, but it all comes from a living, personal experience of Christ in my life; take that away, and the whole thing falls.
And really, that’s where I’m at, down to the present day. I’m still Catholic (well, duh – eight kids), and still, with Molly, part of the ‘ecumenical’ lay community I joined when I was in college. Perhaps this will help you all understand a little bit better where I’m coming from, and where I’ve been. . .
(7 comments)
I grew up in a pretty plain-vanilla mainline-Protestant church; I suppose it would be called ‘theologically liberal’, but of course as a kid growing up, that label wouldn’t have meant much to me. We heard all the usual Bible stories, and about the life of Jesus. Looking back, it laid a good foundation on which to build, but at the time, it was mostly just ‘cultural background’, sort of on the order of Beethoven’s symphonies.
When I was in high school, I began to wrestle with the ‘big questions’ – does God exist? What’s the meaning of life? How should I live? Why? Or why not? And such as those.
Our church had an active and engaging high school youth group, and several of my closest friends also belonged. We did a lot of interesting activities together – service projects, plays, and all manner of things – but, when it came to the ‘big questions’, the answers I was given were oddly unsatisfying. “Be nice to people”; “Serve your fellow man”; and things of that order. Fine things, all of them, but they didn’t really get at the questions I was asking.
The summer I was 14, I went to a church camp sponsored by the state conference of our church. There I had what I can only describe as a personal experience of God. Suddenly, all the Bible stories, everything I’d heard over the years – it all made sense. This was it! Once I came to know in person the God who was behind it all, everything fell into place for me, and all the ‘big questions’ were getting suitable answers as well. Does God exist? – well, having experienced him personally, the answer seemed kind of obvious. What’s the meaning of life? – well, if God exists, that answer would seem rather self-explanatory. How should I live? – again, having met God personally, it was clear that I should live my life in accordance with the God of the Universe.
And it was also clear that this God had revealed himself concretely in the person of Jesus Christ. Suddenly I understood that Jesus wasn’t just a ‘great teacher’ – he was God-in-human-flesh. I didn’t have any idea of the ‘theology’ involved, but I understood in a deep way that it was True. And I understood from my own experience that God had sent the Holy Spirit – who I had previously thought of in only the vaguest, most abstract terms – to live within me in some mysterious and exciting way. I didn’t know any of this from being taught in a sermon – I knew it from my own direct, personal experience of it.
And I went through high school living this newfound Christian life as best I could, sometimes struggling, sometimes thriving, but always fortified by the knowledge of what I had experienced of Jesus and the Holy Spirit in my life. Every summer, I went back to camp, and got my ‘batteries recharged’.
When I went to college, there was, as there is for most college students, a major discontinuity in the circumstances of my life - I didn’t have the familiar surroundings that I’d grown up with. In particular, when Sunday morning rolled around, I didn’t really have any place to go. I knew that I wanted to continue with my Christian life, but it was not at all clear how I would go about doing that in my new context. I ran into some of my ‘camp friends’ who went to the same school, and they told me about a really cool prayer meeting, and so I went, and I came into contact with the Christian community that sponsored the prayer meeting. But there was a whole Christian ‘life-together’ behind it all, and I was immediately attracted to such an intense way of pursuing the Christian life. As soon as I could, I joined the community, and in one way or another, I’ve belonged to it ever since.
Around the same time, I started dating a girl (not Molly). She was Catholic, and she often invited me to come to Mass with her. I had no place better to be, and besides, I kinda liked hanging around her, so I usually went along. My first few masses were real eye-opening. I’d been prepared for the Mass to be really dead and boring, and barely Christian (such were the portrayals of Catholicism that I’d acquired in my life), but instead, I found it full of prayer, and Scripture was woven all through it. I was actually quite favorably impressed.
I also began my own study on the history of Christianity – I wanted to know more about how this living faith I’d acquired had gotten all the way from Bible times to me. Our community aspired to live a Christian life as much like what we saw in the Bible as we could manage, and I was fascinated by the question of how the ‘second generation’ of Christians had received the faith from the apostles, and how they carried it forward in their own day. I read the early church Fathers, and various histories by authors I respected. And as I did, I became more impressed by the notion that the Catholic church was probably the best I could do as far as being in continuity with all of Christian history.
The girl and I eventually broke up, but by that time, I was already thinking of Catholicism as ‘home’, and in the fullness of time, I was received into the Catholic church.
Since then, my Christian faith has become deeper, stronger and (I hope) more mature. I've discovered the Catholic 'philosophical tradition', and grown in my appreciation of the sacramental life of the Church, but it all comes from a living, personal experience of Christ in my life; take that away, and the whole thing falls.
And really, that’s where I’m at, down to the present day. I’m still Catholic (well, duh – eight kids), and still, with Molly, part of the ‘ecumenical’ lay community I joined when I was in college. Perhaps this will help you all understand a little bit better where I’m coming from, and where I’ve been. . .
(7 comments)
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