Tag: deep
What is Celtic (Christian) Spirituality?
In recent years there has been renewed interested in the unique flavor of Christianity from the Celtic region. The Celts transformed their paganism into devote Christian practice and belief, but their connection to nature and to each other in community continued to flavor their understanding and practice of Christianity.
The ultimate Druid (their word for a priest) was then, Jesus, the Christ, Son of the Living God.
After the area was first introduced to Christianity, it became largely cut off from the world and also the massive changes in Christianity that happened once it became the official religion of the Roman Empire. Subsequently, Christianity evolved and soon involved in the power and authority of the (Rome-based) Roman Catholic Church who dominated and influenced life and culture during the middle ages in almost all of the Western civilized world (except the areas that were not subjected to the influential jihads of Islam).
Most Protestants don’t realize the deep and prevailing influence that the Roman version of Christianity has on how they understand, and practice their faith. Many widespread notions in the Western church, even today, began during the Middle Ages and stemmed from Rome.
Empires have a knack of distorting things for their own gain. Religious empires are no exception.
It’s insightful to see how Celts lived out their spirituality and it can add to our own understanding and growth to learn some things from them.
Here is the wikipedia article to expand your general understanding.
Here are some distinctions:
Distinctive Features of Celtic Christianity:
-love of nature and a passion for the wild and elemental as a reminder of God’s gift.
-love and respect for art and poetry.
-love and respect for the great stories and “higher learning”.
-sense of God and the saints as a continuing, personal, helpful presence.
-theologically orthodox, yet with heavy emphasis on the Trinity, and a love and respect for Mary, the Incarnation of Christ, and Liturgy.
-religious practice characterized by a love for tough penitential acts, vigils, self-exile, pilgrimages, and resorting to holy wells, mountains, caves, ancient monastic sites, and other sacred locations.
-no boundaries between the sacred and the secular
-unique Church structure:
-there were originally no towns, just nomadic settlements, hence the church was more monastic rather than diocesan, resulting in quite independent rules and liturgies.
-also, Ireland was very isolated and it was hard to impose outside central Roman authority.
-influenced much by (original/early Christianity) middle-eastern and coptic monasticism.
-they celebrated Easter and Lent according to the ancient calendar system.
-Irish tonsure shaved the front of the head (like the druids).
-abbots had more power than the bishops.
-monasteries often huge theocratic villages often associated with a clan with the same kinship ties, along with their slaves, freemen, with celibate monks, married clergy, professed lay people, men and women living side by side. (Sometimes monasteries “raided” other monasteries, esp. during the period of the Anglo-Norman invasion.)
-while some monasteries were in isolated places, many more were were at the crossroads of provincial territories.
-women had more equal footing in ancient Irish law, thus had more equal say in church government. (Did St. Bridget receive Holy Orders and act as an Abbot?)
-developed the idea of having a “soul friend” (anmchara) to help in spiritual direction.
-invented personal confession.
-monks traveled as “Peregrinari Pro Christ” (White Martyrdom).
-many pagan practices were “Baptized” such as St.Stephen’s Day, and the resorting to holy wells, and many monasteries were built on pagan sacred site (as evident in the names Derry, and Durrow).
Prayer Attributed to St Patrick, missionary to the Celts:
| I arise today, Through the strength of heaven: Light of the sun, radiance of the moon. Splendor of fire, speed of lightning, Swiftness of wind, depth of sea, Stability of earth and firmness of rock. I arise today, Through God’s strength to pilot me: God’s might to uphold me, God’s wisdom to guide me, God’s eye to look before me, God’s ear to hear me, God’s word to speak for me, God’s hand to guard me, God’s way to lie before me, God’s shield to protect me. From the snares of devils, from temptation of vices, From everyone who shall wish me ill, Afar and near, alone and in a multitude |
Everything…but connection
My friend Kayla visited her parents’ church over her summer break for 10 weeks or so.
They were attending this suburban church with a large attendance each Sunday morning and I thought she’d really enjoy the change. Maybe she would be disappointed to come back to her normal, small-town life.
When I asked her about it, she said, “I should have loved it. The music was amazing; the people friendly. They had lots of youth programs and small groups going, and the pastor chose meaningful things to teach. I should miss it, but I don’t.”
This surprised me, so I asked her why she thought this was.
She said something so simple that it gave me a punch of profundity.
“You don’t miss something you don’t feel connected to.”
I started to wonder about the people I’ve lost through death, circumstances, or diverging paths.
Some I missed and some I rarely thought of. Those I did not miss much weren’t really all too different (in general) from the ones I did miss. It didn’t directly reflect the quality of person they were or if we had a lot in common. Like Kayla pointed out, I missed the ones I felt connected with and to. Reflecting on that, the ones that had stronger bonds created more longing or loss in the void of their absence.
That may seem pretty obvious, but the critical gap comes in when we miss why we are connected and what it means to be available and vulnerable on a regular basis with others you can trust. Apart from that, you won’t miss much.
I sense something has been lost in many communities of faith and in many other places because we are so much more amused by our distractions than we are connected in deep ways.
Human connection is never really about measurable stats. We already realize this. It’s about investment in others, sure,
but it’s also about the reciprocity of that investment. It’s always a two-way street.
Some people are wonderful and you invest and hope for a harvest–of some sort–where you both benefit, and you assume they do too, and then it doesn’t happen. The fruition doesn’t manifest or withers on the vine. Maybe the soil was bad, maybe a storm came or drought, or pestilence, maybe something else thwarted success. Sometimes it’s obvious and other times you just sense something is wrong that is hard to make right again. Sometimes you just need to move on and other times, you have to try again in a new season with different seed.
That happens in faith communities and in interpersonal relationships. It happens in business and in extended family life.
If the connection is lacking you won’t be missed. And you won’t miss them. It’s likely that you will feel disappointed about that.
We overlook the idea and process of true connection even as we want it the most.
Is there some thing or someone you’d like to feel more connected with?
Oh,
3 more things.
1. I will be posting a “spiritual-themed” topic about once per week. The other times I will concentrate on other ideas depending on what strikes me and will often concentrate on topics related to helping you create and communicate better.
2. I really am excited to see what this year brings and I’m really happy you came today.
3. Check the top right sidebar to get the next post sent to you through Feedburner!
Faith = a Basket of Eggs: In Tribute to David A. Dorsey
So, a dear man died one week ago. Dave, to his students (because he preferred this), and Dr David Dorsey, PhD officially. On Tuesday the chapel was packed for his funeral as hundreds resolutely braved sub zero wind chill to pay respects, support his family, share memories and express their sadness at the loss. For us who remain in this world and knew him the hole of his absence hurts. It actually feels painful.
If I tried to tell you all the things that I loved about my former Old Testament Professor, or the countless benefits to me, or the simple and genuine ways he loved on me and others, I would be typing for days. Suffice it to say just about everyone on Tuesday was in tears and everyone felt the weight of the loss as we remembered his light in this world.
In the next few weeks I hope to share some of the insights I gleaned from this amazing scholar and human being.
For now, I’ll share with you something Dave taught us about faith. Granted, I won’t do it justice; and if you read this and heard differently from him, please add your own amend in the comments section.
So, here goes…
He said the faith of the patriarchs of Israel might not be the kind of faith we suppose it is. Hebrews 11 gives us a “Hall of Fame” of the faithful. We may think that these people trusted and relied on God. They did. But we get the pedigree of it all wrong. The practice of faith is much richer than we might suppose, especially at first glance reading the list of the faithful.
Instead, it’s something like this:
Faith is not about being hopeful about what lies beyond the bend in the future. It not really about a “blind” ascension to trust either. Those are good and important in their ways, but when we speak of the life of faith in terms of the Old Testament faithful, like Abraham leaving everything he knew for the wilderness for instance, we are really talking about a concept much like “putting all your eggs in one basket.”
That’s how Dave put it. The word picture stuck and it stuck good.
With the Life of Faith…
You are deeming God good, trustworthy, and loving and then you put it all on the line.
(So, it’s rarer than you think!)
You stop hedging your bets. You stop saving a little security for yourself. You stop holding something back that gives you a sense of control. You bet the whole thing. You leave nothing back. You. go. in. wholly.
Sometimes, I find eggs in my pockets, or around the house, or in places that I didn’t know they were, like a weird easter egg hunt. Not chicken eggs, of course, but the eggs of my worries. I may have thought I handed the basket over, and perhaps I really did, but life can make you lay a few eggs. Sometimes people throw them at you too.
Faith, Hope, Love. Those are what remain, yes?
Faith = a Basket of Eggs.
It’s a shocking level of vulnerability: the life of faith.
You can tell when you do it too. You get a mixture of feelings. Great relief that your job is over, your poor skills are not needed any longer, and someone more capable is now responsible and in charge. Whew! Then, you may get a twinge of terror at the power you gave up, but probably never really had anyway. You become all at once very hopeful and very dependent. It’s precarious.
There’s a rare beauty to it.
Sometimes we give up our baskets and sometimes they sort of get pried out of our hands.
Dave was gravely ill for over 3 decades. His was a life of faith. It had to be. And he handed over eggs.
It was a wrestle match, he would tell you. He didn’t always feel faithful. He made mistakes. His candor was humbling. But, through his honesty he became faithful all the more.
There’s something about growing to trust God for each breath, and believing that God revealed himself as a thoroughly good and gracious and generous Creator and Sustainer in the passages of the Old Testament that transformed this brilliant man into a true saint. Not sappy, but real. All at once very strong and stable and yet achingly weak.
Dave was not self-righteous but gracious. Not arrogant in any discernible manner, but loving and open to others. Concerned with others and their lives and largely uncomplaining. Free with his humor and goodwill.
Hear this: You don’t get the privilege to meet people like this very often. You don’t get to be a person like this often. It’s takes an amazing about of formation, re-formation, and transformation. It doesn’t happen by accident or by genetics.
A life of faith means that you hold nothing back. See the difference?
It’s not using power to feel better. It’s giving it over to be fully won over.
In a life of faith you love whole-heartedly. Not because it’s safe. It never is. But, because it is good. A life of faith means that you have a sharp, ongoing sense of your own weaknesses and dependence, and that goes overflowing into compassion for yourself and others.
A few days after Dave’s death I was praying in the car out loud as I do sometimes. (I take more comfort in doing this now. People talk on the phone hands-free all the time in their cars and look like they are talking to nobody. Now, I just look like I’m having an important conversation. In fact, I am, especially when I shut up.)
So, I was in the car and I was warring as I too often do with things in the distance. Shadows, possibilities, next steps. I was planning, wondering, and worrying–like I was holding a bunch of eggs and walking on a lake of ice.
And then I said, “No, this just won’t work. I see I’m holding too tightly. I think I have to go all in. I have to have faith. I have to put all my eggs in one basket. Your basket.”
And a song sung by Ella Fitzgerald came to mind. I’ve embedded the audio so you can hear it after you finish.
Then I simply burst into tears, because that’s what a godly and good legacy looks like. Literally, one leaves words to live by. Dave’s words of life and hope and faith were ringing true in my mind in everyday life, even after he’s gone. And I thought, “That’s an amazing man and I was given an amazing gift to know him.” I kept having to wipe away tears for awhile.
Spirit, you know, is “breath of life”. (The Hebrew and Greek words for breath carry this meaning.) God is Spirit. When you see goodness, when you see sacrificial love, when you see wrongs being made right, you see God. You see the Spirit of the unseen God. Those describers are just part of what and who is impossible to confine or describe fully.
God isn’t just Life Force, but God is that too. And I don’t think Dave lost his own spirit or the Spirit. I think God became greater. The Spirit got so great that it filled him, and his body of water and carbon gave out, finally. It birthed something new and better and unseen and lasting.
And this Spirit and the part of Dave that is Dave (his truest self–his soul) joined up in union with the Great Spirit, somewhere and everywhere, the One, True, Living God who defies reason, explanation, and the limits of us, and even of the universe.
But, Dave didn’t completely leave us. But, my does the sting smart, right now! From my experience I know it dulls in time; but the pain is, at first, ultimate.
Yet, the fragrance of his spirit remains. And it is sweet.
It’s around us when we remember him. The Spirit remains, and Dave’s flavor fused with that true Spirit carries on with us. We miss the more familiar everyday interaction with him so dearly, and always will, until the same happens to us and we are joined somehow together again.
To those who grieve him: his family and friends, I join you in your deep and powerful sorrow. I join you in your joy–that is bitter and sweet–that realizes the gift he was–having known him, been enriched by him, and been intimately connected to him. Your loss is not small.
May you feel the comfort, presence, shalom, and holy goodness of the Spirit of God.
Amen.
-Lisa
P.S.
Here is a brief local obituary posting of David A. Dorsey.
With these links you can enjoy two of his most well-known books:
(egg photo is a Creative Commons image.)
Essay: Is Blogging like Ginsberg’s “Howl” and Nano Pop?
It seems like good writing, the kind of rewrites, and reflection, and deliberation is in short supply, chiefly in the blogosphere and the slapdash sphere of most internet magazines. This post will reflect that flavor too. It will seem to you to (mostly) mirror what I am critiquing. It may seem instant or undercooked. It is caught in the vortex of the medium. I won’t pretend otherwise.
But, it’s also a start.
Blogs, we recall were so-named as a combination (or perhaps even slang) of the words Website and Log. An online record of passing thoughts captured in 1s and 0s for internet reader consumption. Outdated posts not recycled as fish wrapper but buried deep under a mountain of newer posts, like digital tels. The more content the more recognition, so say the experts. Plus, the all-important the SEO. We can’t forget that.
Or, at the very least blogs were and are a chance to make a mark on the world, or to a few friends with knowledge of your URL. Are they more than this? Are they less? (You can tell me in the comments section. I’m working the system.)
The Heights
And we have too-often elevated them to a place inappropriate. At times confusing there position–determining what is prolific to be paramount. Though airy they shimmy under their own weight more than they don’t. But with their own magic, they may sting or bite. They may incite vibrant feuds that recall schoolyard antics–digital spilt lips. They may seem like a sand lot variety of King of the Mountain, riffing on zingers and cultural assertions. Though not long after, they reek of the “My dad can beat up your dad!” slurs. And these too gain vigor as referenced links in posts fueling more of the same. (I won’t give you links. You probably already know of some.)
Blog posts, plentiful like the sands on our cultural shore-scape have piled up like dunes but don’t seem to become a bulwark–an art form like a Pulitzer article, or piece of superb literature, or even a good film. There are some rare exceptions and there are some blog postings that somehow change lives.
More often though something vital is traded for the speed and convenience of the quick write-up. I’m stating the obvious, right?
What is it really?
Like instant coffee, the full-bodied flavor textures and aromas of this medium don’t quite work. Chronically under-brewed, the bulk of the speedily-penned internet articles too reveal not just slapped together writing but the slapped-together thinking ungirding it. We are awash in sloppiness. I don’t exclude myself either.
The passion and angst of any given post may drown out this feature and we may be convinced that we have meat to chew on, that is, until we read really good writing.
Maybe a precise poem, birthed not just from suffering or bliss or insight but from the careful gathering of words like seed beads and the arranging of them like art and embellished patterns on a long gown of societal topography.
Maybe a travel article written not for the rushed, tired, and ravenous tourist consumer, but for the person who truly wonders about other cultures and ways of being human in distant regions. A piece of craft that may include the underlying philosophies escaping the mind of a deeply thoughtful and curious person who can and does take the time. Here there is peace of a certain kind that never makes its way properly to Facebook.
Survival
Will the banter or the sarcasm of blogging (and commenting) last through the arc of observable time, at all?
Will it survive weeks, years, decades, after the refinement of reflection and chronological distance makes its way down through it like canyon whitewater? Or will blog posts be captured digital bits of immature polemics, impolitic reverie, and dated fervor of a begone time, like Allen Ginsberg ‘s once criminally obscene 1955 poem Howl reads for us now? A once-debauched and revolutionary vocalization now a kind of caricature of a ruckus time; now a relic of a frenzied, outlying beat–a strange light from a olden day.
Will blogging be frittered like a summering free-love hippie of this time in the Connection and Communication Age, rendered not in the insensate fog of drugs, but in the fever of hot blithering and the lechery of notoriety.
What will be the classic (masterly) posts of blogs from our era, if any? What will be the wheat amongst all the gusting chaff?
Where will there be instead that lasts? Perhaps commentaries well-researched and produced in a arduous string of revisions and heartache and a probing of not just of the topic by of the writer’s own inner world. Questions and ideas that could perhaps give voice to something true, useful, universal and somehow everlasting? The shoulders to stand on.
Archival
Will blog posts be like cultural postcards, the scraps from a newly-formed, digital age whose populace didn’t yet crave more than boilerplate reports and passing thoughts? Tweets like echoes of something that mattered. Facebook the endless ticker cataloguing our lives in bits and bytes.
What, if anything, in this blogosphere and this ephemeral epoch will collese and age like well-kept merlot for future readers in future times? Things truly enjoyable and worth saving? Something, say, for high school English classes to ponder 20 years removed?
The postings might go bleached like Polaroids, capturing in anemic hues a snap swatch; the evanescent blush of the solipsistic maiden: the early 2000s cultural zeitgeist.
Not Warhol’s Pop but something slimmer.
To coin a term: Nano-Pop.
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I’d love your links to blog articles that you feel will not just stand the test of time, but may well be considered paragon of blog posting as a literary art form in our times. If you can find any, please put them in the comments section.
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Thanks for reading today.
-Lisa