Curtis Almquist, SSJE
Monastery
August 19, 2008
During the last three years my brothers and I from our monastery have been invited to minister in two Anglican dioceses in Kenya and Tanzania, a ministry of spiritual formation mostly with clergy and students, helping people to “pray their lives.”i And we have this wonderful privilege of meeting many of the people, young and old, whom they serve.
Some of you may know firsthand, that one of the experiences and expectations of the African church is the sharing of testimonies – people testifying to their faith in Jesus Christ. Sermons, which are typically delivered with great charisma, are usually punctuated with the preacher’s own fervent testimony. So are conversations among Christians in the by-and-by. I recall some years ago traveling on a mission in Zimbabwe with a number of my brothers. We had stopped one day at a small market to pick up some supplies. Our Zimbabwean host suddenly clapped his hands loudly, summoning the attention of all the people in this marketplace, and he proceeded to tell them (quite to my surprise): “Br. Curtis will now give his testimony in Jesus Christ in less than 30 minutes.” I was “on.” The people listened; my brothers smiled, and from atop a wooden box I gave my testimony with all my heart. But that is not the norm for us here in the west – not the norm at least for most Episcopalians – to give such an auricular testimony. In our culture, the word “testimony” is largely monopolized by the court of law. In the courts “giving testimony” oftentimes has an adversarial or forensic quality. It’s a shame for us Anglicans to lose the word from the vocabulary of the church, where testimony always has a quality of encouragement.
We could say that the whole of the New Testament is a testimony. Some of this testimony had been told from generation-to-generation, and was finally written down. Other parts of the New Testament were written down by the hand of the testifier, such as the epistles of Paul and John. The first epistle of John begins with a testimony:
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us…”ii
The Greek word used here for “testimony” is martureo, which means to bear witness, i.e., to affirm what one has seen or heard or experienced. (It’s the same word, martureo, from which comes the English word “martyr.” And so a testimony, at its core, is something for which you give your life, something on which your life absolutely hangs.) I have been thinking a lot about testifying. Part of this is that I – my brothers and I – hold Africa in our hearts and minds and prayer, the brilliant witness and desperate needs of the Anglican Church in Africa. Part of it is the disingenuous quality of so much testimony that we see beamed out over C-Span and reported in the newspapers. And part of it comes from our own Mission Statement of my community, where we claim a “vision for wholeness” – a world that is whole, and a nation and church that is whole, and people who are whole. Wholeness is reflected in many ways, including in our own speech. (You may recall that the English words “whole” and “holy” come from the same etymological root.) Several “testimonial components” come to mind for those of us who profess with our lips to be followers and ministers of Jesus Christ.
Prior to my coming to the monastery almost 21 years ago, I was a parish priest in the Diocese of Chicago. I was a Curate, and my Rector put this discipline to a daily practice. The Rector and I would both be present for the weekday liturgies. Following the reading of the Gospel we would meet in the middle of the sanctuary and reverence the altar. In that split second while we were bowed, he would announce in a whisper which of us would preach that day. There we were, heads lowered, and he would whisper to me something like, “It’s mine” or he would say, “You’re on!” (Sometimes we playfully fought a little for just a second. I would say, “no way am I going to preach that” and he would say something like, “You want a paycheck this week?”) Anyway, that became our practice week-in and week-out. I initially found this incredibly intimidating, to have all of about three seconds to turn around and deliver a homily. But Father Lundberg’s practice was to always be ready to share the good news amidst so much bad news that people face in the course of a day. I would say this is a helpful practice for all of us: to be ready with a testimony to your faith in Jesus Christ, a testimony that would be cogent and credible to someone outside the church tradition… which is most everyone we meet these days on the street. No spiritual gobbledygook. If someone asks you today in Harvard Square why you are a follower of Jesus Christ, what’s the word, the authentic word in your heart and upon your lips? What is your testimony in real time? As we read a moment ago from the First Letter of John, “Those who believe in the Son of God have the testimony in their hearts.”iv
The psalmist sings out in testimony, “How can I thank the Lord for all the good things he has done for me?” How can you thank the Lord for all the good things he has done for you? I don’t know. I don’t know the answer for you, but it’s probably already within your heart. Try to find the words today, and tomorrow, and the next to give testimony to the deepest love of your life.
i A phrase from the Rule of Life of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist.
ii 1 John 1:1-2.
iv 1 John 5: 10.
© 2008
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