Encountering God

July 24, 2009

Please pardon this hodge-podge of a post, and long too.  But it has a point.

This post, without any shadow of a doubt, really and truly describes the reality of the Faith. Granted, Father is talking about the Orthodox Church.  I would of course like to (and do) say that the Catholic Church also represents this reality, but there has been such a radical Hermeneutic of Discontinuity within our faith (mainly as a result of the “Spirit of Vatican II”, and not necessarily because of the Council itself) that I might have some doubts.  Now Catholics (some educated at YDS/HDS/DDS perhaps) are trying laying claim to God and Divine mandate, like Protestants, without giving the least respect to Tradition-Bishops, doctrine, or any of those things that really make one Catholic.  We’ve abandoned the culture that encourages prayers of intercession to the Saints, or rosaries, or novenas, or visits to the Blessed Sacrament because a “modern American Catholic” is “too cultivated” to indulge in such acts of “18th Century religiosity.”  And what do they have to fear?  Its not like Hell, for these people, really exists.  I question whether God does as well (or whether God is the name they give to justify their social liberalism and acts of “justice”).

Ideally, what should our encounter with God be like?  We have two examples.

1) This week, we celebrated the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene:

She is called “the Penitent”.   St. Mary Magdalen was well known as a sinner when she first saw Our Lord. She was very beautiful and very proud, but after she met Jesus, she felt great sorrow for her evil life. When Jesus went to supper at the home of a rich man named Simon, Mary came to weep at His feet. Then with her long beautiful hair, she wiped His feet dry and anointed them with expensive perfume. Some people were surprised that Jesus let such a sinner touch Him, but Our Lord could see into Mary’s heart, and He said: “Many sins are forgiven her, because she has loved very much.” Then to Mary He said kindly, “Your faith has made you safe; go in peace.” From then on, with the other holy women, Mary humbly served Jesus and His Apostles. When Our Lord was crucified, she was there at the foot of His cross, unafraid for herself, and thinking only of His sufferings. No wonder Jesus said of her: “She has loved much.” After Jesus’ body had been placed in the tomb, Mary went to anoint it with spices early Easter Sunday morning. Not finding the Sacred Body, she began to weep, and seeing someone whom she thought was the gardener, she asked him if he knew where the Body of her beloved Master had been taken. But then the person spoke in a voice she knew so well: “Mary!” It was Jesus, risen from the dead! He had chosen to show Himself first to Mary Magdalen, the repentent sinner.

2) We also celebrated the Feast of St. Apollinaris:

St. Apollinaris was a bishop, martyr, and possible disciple of St. Peter. He was mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles. Apollinaris was born in Antioch, Turkey, and became the first bishop of Ravenna, in Italy. As such he faced nearly constant persecution. He and his flock were exiled from Ravenna by Emperor Vespasian. On his way out of the city he was identified, arrested as being the leader, tortured, and martyred. St. Apollinaris died in the first century.

We’ll leave the matter of St. James until his feast day on Saturday.

So what does contact with the living God do?  What should it do?  It should cause us to repent.  It should reveal to us the love God has for us; a love so consuming, overwhelming, and sweet that we seek to fall before God in supplication.  It should drive us to withstand and suffer all persecution for His sake.  This revelation of God should force us to radically change our lives.  Anyone who has truly opened his or herself to God has not been the same since.  Such was it with Mary Magdalene and St. Apollinaris, and so should it be with us.  It requires much from us, especially obedience (an idea some Catholics in America find loathsome).

The Collects (Mary’s from the Anglican Missal, Apollinaris’ from the ‘62 Missal…sorry, the Anglican one speaks more to my point on Mary):

Almighty God, whose blessed Son restored Mary Magdalene to health of body and of mind, and called her to be a witness of his resurrection: Mercifully grant that by your grace we may be healed from all our infirmities and know you in the power of his unending life.

O God, the Rewarder of faithful souls, Who hast consecrated this day by the martydom of blessed Apllinaris, Thy priest, we beseech Thee:  grant to us Thy servants, that the prayer of him whose holy festival we are keeping may obtain for us the forgiveness of our sins.  Through our Lord.  Amen.

May we ask the same of God.

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Posted by T. Ambrose Nazianzus

Musings on Time Travel and God

March 16, 2009

I spent my weekend watching the Back to the Future series of movies, which I find endlessly amusing (and problematic, in temporal terms).  Since the movies, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about time.  In the BTTF universe, there doesn’t appear to be any concept of “multiverses,” i.e. that changing something in the past will merely spawn another universe where that action’s ramifications will influence time.  Instead, it appears that the BTTF universe is four-dimensional, i.e. time is merely another “space” in which one can move.  The difference in the BTTF concept is that any action done in the past will have immediate effects upon the future (thus, preventing your parents from meeting won’t create a universe where that possibility plays out, but will influence that single time-line and your existence within it).

In Watchmen (the graphic novel), there is a good example of what it would be like to exist without temporal limits (i.e. in a single-universe/timeline).  Its forced me to think about the nature of time in our reality.  Being a theologian, its forced me to think about God’s role in creating time.  Much of the debate in the Patristic period about God and the Trinity centered around how we talk about the begetting of the Son.  In order to talk about eternal begetting of the Son, we have to talk about a concept of begetting “before time.”

Thus, to think about God, we have to recognize both his present action in time, and some concept of “action” before time.  The best word for it is Being…God Is, and has always Been.  No beginning, and no end.  Thus, the concept of time is rubbish to God.  God, like Dr. Manhattan, is outside of time.  Unlike Dr. Manhattan, who admits that he can’t change what he sees, God is able to actively participate and change events within time.  For God, time is totally present to him.  I see it as God controlling the paint on a canvass to make the painting He wants, though paradoxically, God already knows how the paint will settle.  Our language fails when we try to discuss the totality of time’s presence to God, as you can see.

Of course, for us, time is revealed piecemeal.  We have no idea what’s coming, and slightly better odds of knowing what’s happened.  The question I have, which I’m considering in a theological light, is whether time travel is possible in a theological universe.  Its hard to divorce this question from the physics behind it.  If God doesn’t want humanity time traveling, then it won’t be physically possible.

However, what if we discover that we could travel through time?  What would this say about God, time, and our participation in time (of course, we are ignoring the ethics and dangers behind time travel, at the moment)?  Obviously, it would be an important tool to use to substantiate Christianity’s claims.  We could go back in time, attempt to find Jesus, and then stick with him until three days after the Crucifixion.  If we find that the Gospels are wrong, then that would be biggest shock to world history since…well, since Constantine made Christianity legal (or, more likely, since humans recognized consciousness).

But what if the Gospels are true?  What then?  What does God’s Providence mean, if we can change historical events?  Or would we be able to?  Or, would we find that history remains exactly the same?  Or, would we have to rethink humanity’s role in Providence, if we find that we can change historic events?  These are interesting (though not exactly practical) questions.

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Posted by T. Ambrose Nazianzus

Is Theology Art?

February 4, 2009

Interesting question. I don’t intend on answering it.

My part-time gig, when I’m not theologizing (and even then, I seem to be a bit apathetic about some aspects of it presently…as always happens just before break), is down at the Concert Office of the music school, here at my “Ivy League University” in New Haven. Now, there are a few stray figures that work in the office (one Divinity schooler, one Med Schooler, a couple undergrads). But, for the most part, I interact with artists all day long. Some of them music, some graphic, you get the idea.

I’m curious where I fit in the mix, with this group. Is theology art (historical theology specifically)? In some ways, I think so, but I don’t have the tools to express how. Great theologians manage to take the basic ideas of the Bible (God, Christ, Spirit, salvation, revelation, etc.), and through the biblical and philosophical medium, compose theological systems that give meaning to the random texts of the Bible. They draw the implied order from the Bible, while imposing order upon it. Its a unique relationship of authority and submission: authority to interpret the text, while submitting to the order implied within the text. The worst “biblical theologians” are the one’s who cherry pick their lines (something like “paint-by-line” paintings). Sometotally ignore the darkness of the text, and focus upon the light (Kinkade, anyone?). Some folks ignore the good, and focus solely upon the bad (Piss-Christ?).

But this is hardly an answer. What is theology, ultimately? What is art? I’m not equipped to offer definitions. Perhaps theology is ultimately God, and art is ultimately beauty, such that a proper considering of both terms leads to the one conclusion: how we know about God, and how we recognize beauty on Earth, is ultimately rooted in the Divine First Principle, the Father (following Augustine, following Plotinus).

Perhaps…I’m really not sure.  But I’m afraid the beauty of Origen’s theology is more difficult to demonstrate, when presented with the immediate medium of music or print.

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Posted by T. Ambrose Nazianzus

Vexations

October 29, 2008

At YDS, because it is also houses an Anglican seminary, all students have a chance to participate in a spiritual development program called the Annand Program for Spiritual Development. First-year students can sign up to participate in the program. In the first-year group seminars, we typically learn several different methods of prayer. Three weeks ago, we learned about dialogue prayer (i.e. write down everything you want to say to God, then write God’s response). Last week, we learned about prayer that involved focusing upon an object, and seeing where you mind leads you. A lot of this has the concept of centering prayer as its basis.

This week, we did lectio divina, or Divine Reading, which finds its roots in the Catholic monastic tradition. We focused upon Psalm 116. In “doing” lectio divina, I was called to three phrases. One was about the psalmist crying to God for assistance. The next was about how we believe, even though we cry that “everyone lies.” The third talked about standing before the assembly, and addressed the question of what gifts we can offer God, though we raise the cup of freedom to him as a gift.

The first stage of our lectio divine was to focus upon the words/phrases that stuck out to us. The second phase involved allowing an image related to the phrases mentioned above to appear in our minds. I saw a person in prayer, supplicating if you will. But I also saw a priest raising the chalice during the Mass.

The third stage was to piece it all together; to ask God what he is showing us. I’ve been focused upon the questions, “What am I doing here. What do I want to do with myself?” In a sense, this is what I’ve asked God’s help with-what is my vocation? In one sense, I’m distrustful of most individuals-everyone lies. But I don’t distrust God…I might distrust the wealth of theology that crowds him out, but never him (and in fact, I manage to gleam jewels from the rubble…Augustine’s doctrine of grace has been especially helpful). I can’t help but wonder if my vocational call was affirmed today. I was at peace when imagining the Mass. It just seemed like something I wanted to do.

Of course, this might be terribly earnest and romantic. The brutal truth is that being a priest is more than just celebrating the Mass. Its parish administration and associated hassles (more so now that there is a lack of priests). The monastery is much the same-I’ve been to visit one, and the men who live there are definitely not Carthusians. They are real folks with real failings. But, one can’t help but wonder if there isn’t some truth to it, and if its only my jaded sense of the world that disuades me from believing. Romanticism loses its luster when you’re an adult, or play at one.

At the same time, I want to preach the Gospel. I would like to preach it loud and clear. The John the Baptist of the 21st Century, perhaps. But again, Romanticism clouds the fact that this sort of life is not comfortable. The Baptist didn’t have 401(k). He literally lost his head for the Gospel. Do I have that much faith?

We’ll see what I do, or better, we’ll see where grace leads me. Let God command what he wills, but let him also give what he commands.

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Posted by T. Ambrose Nazianzus