Hilda, Abbess of Whitby: Living Your Rule of Life

Today the Church celebrates Hilda of Whitby

Whether we know it or not, we are living life by a rule. This rule is sometimes hidden and at other times as clear as day. We consciously or unconsciously go about our days with this rule helping to make our decisions: guiding us in what we say, where we go, and how we act. As strange as this might sound we all have a Rule of Life, but Hilda whom we celebrate today presents us with a challenge. Instead of slogging through life unaware of the rule, Hilda’s witness as a saint of the Church, emerges as an example of how to live intentionally, so that God may fully bear Christ in us.

We will come back to the Rule of Life in a moment. First, let us go back in time. The Venerable Bede, the famous Church historian, wrote, “Hilda’s career falls into two equal parts,” as she spent thirty-three years in secular habit before dedicating the second half of her time on earth to monastic living. Now, before you tune out because monasticism seems ridiculous to those of us who live outside the walls of an abbey or monastery, let me pass along some wisdom that has changed how I view nuns and monks.

During the Reformation, when the Church Catholic underwent marvelous growth and tremendous splintering, a shift occurred that seems all but forgotten. The Protestants who were fed up with clericalism, the putting of clergy and monastics on a pedestal, finally had Holy Scripture that they could read in their own language and eventually books of prayer, so they could spend time with God at their own home. Many family members began to see their households as little monasteries. This seems to be a lost gift from the Reformation: we are invited to see our households as safe havens where our life in Christ is shaped as family and individual, then we are called to go forth to serve Christ in the world around us.

This vision where the home is the cloistered harbor of formation does not happen haphazardly. Just like in Hilda’s day when she founded the Abbey at Whitby a deliberate Rule of Life helps to guide how one lives, moves, and has one’s being. Interpreting a Rule of Life can be tricky, for it can diverge into legalism and earning God’s favor if we are not careful; however, we all live by rules whether we know it or not. The daily routines that we fall into are our unintentional rules. A Rule of Life therefore is not something to be maintained without grace, as much as it is a map and a guide to reveal that we are already home in God when we feel lost.  Now what Hilda’s witness asks us to do is to take on an intentional way of living within our own little monasteries, such that we clear away the clutter that distracts us from living the abundant life in Christ.

Hilda challenged those who came under her guidance to take on the virtues of “justice, devotion, chastity, peace, and charity” (Holy Women, Holy Men, 686). Everyone who met Hilda called her “mother” for she was that nurturing as a leader. Even when the Church in East Anglia struggled to bring together the Celtic and Roman branches of spirituality, she served as an example of obedience and reconciliation in the face of tension and division. Her life exemplifies an intentionality where our Rule of Life at home guides us to contemplative action in the world. What is your Rule of Life? How will you intentionally shape your life? God’s abundant grace reigns down at all times and in all places, search out a Rule of Life that helps us you to live the abundant life in Christ.

Facing Terrorism: Focus on Jesus

The stones of a building are not supposed to come crashing down. Ground beneath our feet is not meant to shake and rumble. No farmer plants seeds thinking that the season will end in famine. We do not wake up believing that a tornado will rip through our town. And no one goes through life expecting terrorists to incite mass murders nearby; however, these horrific, existence-shattering, and even life-ending events seem to be happening far too often.

This weekend I could not help but empathize with the painful reality that the people of Paris are feeling. I am sure you felt the same way. Bombings and shootings at a soccer stadium, a concert hall, and in a nightlife district rocked Parisians’ lives, much like how many of us felt shaken by the events of 9/11. And what is more, earlier in the week ghastly reports of terrorism arose from Beirut, Bagdad, and Garissa, Kenya. (All of the terror and all of the horror can very quickly put into perspective internet quibbling over the design on a coffee chain’s cup.) In this day and age, we cannot outrun the shocking news from every corner of the globe, and the news that grabs all of the headlines is of violence, famine, war, earthquakes, airline crashes, and other disasters. I have a very hard time with this being our current focus as a society, and I believe Jesus does too.

Last week’s gospel story focused on a widow, who with her two copper coins put in so much more than the showy gestures of the scribes. The outward signs of the religious were small compared to the inward abundance of the old woman. As soon as this teaching ended, Jesus and his disciples walked out of the Temple. This is where our gospel story picks up today.

One of the disciples marveled at the Temple. In that day the Temple was a sight to see. It was huge, with many balconies, covered walkways, and courtyards. Herod had the Temple built through the blood and sweat of others. It was constructed of marble to impress people from all over the world. While the magnificent appearance of the Temple was grandiose and attractive, Jesus had just finished teaching his disciples that inward devotion, not outward appearance was the mark of abundant life. Perhaps Jesus’ lesson was not getting through to the disciples, so he made a bold claim.

He said, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” These were ominous words, as the Temple would later crumble to the ground. And yet, Jesus revealed a deeper truth that persists to this day: nothing material in this world will last forever. Our greatest handcrafted achievements will one day fall down, even the mountains will be made low, the valleys exalted, and the crooked paths made straight. Still, this week I have a harder time making sense of this reality as it falls hard on my ears, and even harder on my heart. “All will be thrown down” does not engender solace or arise a sense of consolation from God. So what was it that Jesus was trying to tell his disciples?

At this moment, looking across from the Mount of Olives with his disciples Jesus was himself staring death in the face. He was in Jerusalem on the week of his crucifixion and could see the impending chaos that his disciples would undergo after he was captured and killed. The teacher was trying to pass along a Masters level lesson to his students. We too are to take on this difficult understanding.

The disciples pressed Jesus to talk about what he meant by the prediction of the Temple’s fall, but when they asked for a date and sign, Jesus did not give them a simple response. Instead of replying in a straightforward manner, he talked about false prophets, rumors of wars, wars, nations rising against nation, kingdom fighting against kingdom, and even earthquakes. Through this though he gave his followers great wisdom when he said do not let these things alarm you, or put another way, do not let all of those things distract you from what I am imbedding in you, what I am planting in you, what I am giving to you. For those things are not what is to come, the end is still to come.

“The end is still to come,” maybe this phrase does not instill in you a lot of confidence. Maybe I could say it in a little different way that will sound familiar to you Cursillo people. The best is yet to come. The best is yet to come might come off as pie-in-the-sky drivel, but I hope and believe that in God’s reality the best is yet to come.

When Jesus came to this earth he did not end senseless violence, famine, poverty, or war. We are well aware of this truth. And, his message that the end is further along was not something full of fluff. No, Jesus brought the good news that the best is still yet to come because God’s fulfillment of all in all is coming. Jesus started something when he brought healing and wisdom, freedom and release, life and love into this world. These virtues are not easily achieved, but by the grace of God this is the end, the goal to which all of us are headed when we live in Christ. Sometimes, like this week, it can be difficult to know that the beautiful end is the truth.

Just a little bit after this story from today’s gospel, Jesus shared a sacred meal with his disciples that we continue to share today. I can at times feel as though I do not understand the ways of this world. And yet, when I end up with my hands and heart open at God’s Table I know that the end is not mine to determine. Through Jesus God invites us to have a foretaste of the heavenly banquet that is yet to come where all God’s children will feast together. Yes, the end is yet to come. And yes, it is scary to not know what the end will look like. But, sometimes we get a glimpse of it.

Perhaps you heard a story that came out of Paris on Friday night. “Porte Ouverte” means “Open Door” in French. It was the hashtag that people who were already safe in France used on social media to invite those in danger off of the streets. Taxi drivers turned off their meters and shuttled stranded tourists and residents to safety. In the midst of a murderous rampage the love and open doors of strangers said to one another and to the entire world the end is still to come, the best is yet to come.

The distractions and dangers of this world are real. The pain that people feel in Paris, Beirut, Baghdad, Garissa, and elsewhere will not magically go away. We as followers of Jesus are not called to ignore the problems of this world. And yet, we are also not to be distracted from following Jesus, not even by wars, politics, disasters, or terrorism. As our reading from the letter to the Hebrews puts it, “And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” In the name of the Living God, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer! Amen.

Expectations and Resentment

Sometimes seminary education is about the scholarly work in the classroom and sometimes it is about the practical advice given elsewhere.

My Liturgy Professor spoke quickly with such verbose language and about such deep topics that my classmates and I would walk out of class thinking that we had been trying to drink water out of a fire hydrant. Dr. Nathan Jennings told us so much about the origins of our common prayer. He could articulate the mysteries of worshiping the Almighty in a way that often inspired awe at what I was getting myself into as a seminarian. However, sometimes what Dr. Jennings said about other aspects of life was even more profound.

“Expectations are resentments waiting to happen,” were his words at a New Student Orientation event. Expectations are resentments waiting to happen. I am uncertain of whether this was a phrase he coined or merely shared, but at least once a week I find myself coming back to this wisdom. This phrase stands out as particularly fitting in light of today’s Gospel lesson from Matthew.

Jesus has just capped off an impressive, rapid fire tour of teaching parables. He has compared the kingdom of heaven to treasure hidden in a field, a merchant in search of fine pearls, and a net thrown into the sea. Finally he summarized this series by saying scribes trained for the kingdom of heaven are like masters who bring forth the best of what is new and what is old. Then, Jesus and his band of followers make their way to his hometown. Instead of a continuation of this grand tour of teaching, something else entirely transpires.

In the synagogue Jesus begins teaching and the people were astounded, which at first sounds positive. And yet, in the next breath it seems the people of Nazareth cannot get past who it is that is teaching. They ask, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these deeds of power? Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary?” Apparently they cannot get past the origins of the teacher. Their minds already being made up do not allow them to hear and to receive with open hearts the message of Jesus. Their expectations are resentments waiting to happen.

How have you already made up your mind about someone? Who in your life is just the carpenter’s son? Who’s only the child of Mary? Jesus later will say that if you want to enter the kingdom of heaven you must enter it like a child. Children do not live with expectations. They respond with awe-filled gratitude and curiosity to each moment they exist. Your expectations are resentments waiting to happen. Instead of assuming God, your family, friend, or neighbor will respond in a certain way, which inevitably leads to resenting the person or situation when it does not; live your life with wonder learning from all whom God places in your way.