Posts Tagged ‘courage’
Flesh-and-Blood Faith – Br. Lain Wilson
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Br. Lain Wilson
When I lived in DC for a decade before moving to the monastery, I had three bad cycling accidents. Not “broken-bones-and-hospital-visit” bad, but “ice-and-painkillers” bad.
The last and worst one took place about twelve miles from home. I was cycling down a path at a reasonable clip when I hit a root and went flying over the handlebars. I came down hard, cleaned myself up, and spent the next several minutes somewhat comically trying to fix a flat tire with one hand. Then I got back onto the bike and slowly cycled home.
The only reason it wasn’t a hospital-visit accident was because I was wearing my helmet. And the only reason I felt assured that I could get back home was because I was still wearing my helmet. It was a risky situation, but I trusted my equipment. Read More
Take Heart – Br. Luke Ditewig
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Br. Luke Ditewig
Jesus sees faith in the friends. Matthew tells it starkly. Mark paints a picture. Four carry their friend to Jesus. Because of the crowd, they can’t get in the door. They climb up, dig through part of the roof, and lower their friend down in front of Jesus (Mark 2:1-12). See their faith: persistent, risky, and unembarrassed effort.
Imagine being the one brought, coming face to face with Jesus. I see excitement and eagerness as well as fear. What will Jesus do? I imagine shame I know well: Will Jesus accept me? Was all this effort worth it? Am I worth it? Read More
Conviction Cloaks Courage – Br. Curtis Almquist
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Br. Curtis Almquist
Janani Luwum
In 1972, an Ugandan military dictator, Idi Amin, overthrew the elected Ugandan government and began terrorizing and butchering the population, especially two groups: academics and Christians. Some called it the Ugandan holocaust. In the calendar of the church we remember today an Ugandan Archbishop, Janani Luwum. He was a gentle, zealous, courageous man who met face-to-face with Idi Amin, confronted him on his atrocities, and asked for atonement.[1] Leaving the meeting, Archbishop Luwum told his companions, “They are going to kill me. I am not afraid.” The next day his body was found riddled with bullets.
Uganda fifty years ago may seem far away; however, we need only witness the governmental terrorizing in our own country to see how the seeds of an Ugandan-like incursion have found a home here. We witness daily trauma and injustice for persons whose first language is not English, persons of color, persons who do not follow an exclusive brand of Christianity, persons who are not straight or cisgendered, and many others. Read More
Strange Comparisons – Br. Lain Wilson
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We celebrate today the feast of Saint Stephen, deacon and first martyr. Coming so soon after Christmas, this can feel a bit odd. We’ve just celebrated the birth of God as a human, the miraculous mystery of the divine taking on human flesh as part of a plan for the world’s salvation—and here we are, immediately after, hearing about the martyr’s death of one of Jesus’s first followers.
What are we to make of this juxtaposition?
Two comparisons come to mind.
First, the comparison of Stephen to Jesus, which many commentators have made. I think this tells us something important about God. A genre of painting of the infant Jesus depicts him holding his cross—from his birth he is already on the road to Calvary. God took on mortal flesh because it was in dying that humankind could be redeemed. This is the other side of the joy and glitter of Christmas—the knowledge that Good Friday follows soon.
God taking on human flesh also means that God is with us humans through everything. And so the story of Stephen also tells us something important about us. It tells us about our capacity for courage, our capacity for truth-telling, our capacity for witness-bearing. A capacity that is not wholly our own but constantly available when we recognize that God is with us. Stephen was the first martyr, followed by countless others, known and unknown, whose solace and comfort was that God so loved the world that God became a part of it, that God as Jesus suffered and died to save it, and that God promised to be with us always.
This comparison between Stephen and Jesus is most apparent in Stephen’s death, when he commends his soul to God, as Jesus does on the cross. But I am struck by another part of this episode, his vision of God enthroned in glory and Jesus standing at God’s right hand. Having just celebrated Christmas, having heard all the familiar stories, I am struck by another comparison: that between Stephen and the shepherds, witnesses to the heavenly host praising God: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors” (Luke 2:14).
If in bearing witness to God’s incarnation the shepherds responded with fear, awe, and joy, Stephen in his response fulfills the angels’ song of praise: “Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, ‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them’” (Acts 7:60). Faced with conflict, Stephen showed peace; faced with hatred, forgiveness and goodwill.
Perhaps not our idea of peace and goodwill, but it is, and has been, all too often what is asked of us, in big and small ways, as followers of Jesus. But we can take to heart, we can find courage to bear it, because of the example of witnesses like Stephen, and because of the assurance that God is with us, here and now, always.
Amen.
Vulnerable Courage – Br. Lain Wilson
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Judith 9:1, 11-14
John 20:11-18
Psalm 42:1-7
We encounter tonight two very different women.
The first prays to God for the success of her plan of deception to save her besieged city.
The other, a young woman, stands weeping by an empty tomb.
What connects these two women—the one, daring all to save her people; the other, alone and bereft, met in the garden by her savior?
Faith, for sure. But something else—courage.
This is of course obvious with Judith. During the siege of her city, she goes out alone, seduces the Assyrian general Holophernes, and while he sleeps uses his sword to strike off his head. Hers is a story of plotting and brutal action.
Courage is less obvious with Mary Magdalene, whom we remember today. But if we let ourselves encounter this familiar passage anew, we will find it there, too. On that first Sunday, Mary has come to the tomb and found the stone removed. “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him,” she cries to the other disciples (Jn 20:2). We can imagine Mary following behind Peter and John as they race to the tomb, confused and grief-stricken. The other disciples leave, “but Mary stood weeping outside the tomb” (Jn 20:11). Read More
The Unclarity of Holiness – Br. Lucas Hall
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Br. Lucas Hall
One of my favorite films came out roughly five years ago. It’s called A Hidden Life. It’s a Terrence Malick film, if you’re familiar with him. One reviewer called it a “grand cathedral” of a movie. And I agree, because it’s very big. It’s about three hours long. It’s quite quiet, reflective. The story—It’s based on a true story—of an Austrian, alpine farmer, living in a small, rural village during the Second World War. He receives a draft summons to join the Nazi army, and he can’t. His conscience will not allow him to swear an oath of loyalty to Adolf Hitler. He is told repeatedly that it’s merely a formality, that he can be assigned to non-violent, non-combat work. He could even be assigned to hospital work. He could help people, save lives.
No. He refuses over and over again. He is imprisoned. His wife and children are ostracized in their village. He is tortured, beaten, moved around from prison to prison to prison, interrogated. His wife is brought to him to try and convince him, remind him of what he’s giving up. Instead, she agrees with him, and encourages him, and says she will be with him, whatever he decides. So he stands firm. Ultimately, he is executed. That story has a clear hero, a clear main character, but what really struck me about the film was the way it ended with this man’s death. Because he, with a number of other prisoners, was brought to a place of execution, a military installation. It was a gray, cloudy day. They were sitting outside in a gravel courtyard area. One by one, they were brought into a dingy old building with a concrete floor and unceremoniously killed. It wasn’t a heroic setting. It was mundane, normal, dingy, depressing. And each of these people to be executed had no idea whether they were on the winning side or not. There was certainly no hint of it at the end of their lives, powerless against a much bigger foe, and ultimately killed. Read More
Frozen Roles – Br. James Koester
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About thirty years ago, we Brothers went through a period of renewal. We were stuck, and we knew it. It was difficult for us to make decisions. We were busy all the time, but it seemed, we were mostly busy spinning our wheels. We didn’t know which direction we wanted to go, and we weren’t even sure how, or who, would decide that. We were stuck, and we knew it. Luckily, we also knew that something needed to change. We weren’t sure what, but we knew we could not go on like that. And so, we asked around. What had other people and organizations done in similar situations? Eventually we were led to a woman named Jean. Jean walked into our life one day, and while there were countless times when we all wished she would walk right back out, she and we persisted, and we’ve never been the same.
Thirty years later, all of us who were here then, still speak of her. Brothers who were not here, certainly know of her. She is perhaps quoted, and referred to, only slightly less frequently than Father Benson. Ask some of us, and we all have our favourite Jean story.
One of the things that was eye opening for me, was the day Jean introduced us to the concept of frozen roles.
Jean’s point was that we often cannot see what another is doing, or saying, because we think we know what they will do, or say, even before they do, or say it. She always reacts this way. He always does that. I don’t need to bother listening because I already know what they will say. We freeze people, and even ourselves, into certain patterns, and we don’t allow them to break out, or to be different than how we expect them to be.
The dynamics of frozen roles are perhaps most prevalent in families, small work situations, and dare I say it, monastic communities, where members have known one another over decades. Here he goes again, we say to ourselves. How many times have I heard this in the last 10, 20, 30 years? I don’t need to listen. I already know what he will say. Read More
Captives to Truth – Br. Lain Wilson
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Feast of Irenaeus of Lyons
“And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kindly to everyone, an apt teacher, patient, correcting opponents with gentleness” (2 Tim 2:24-25).
I’m not sure “gentle” is how I’d first characterize Irenaeus, the second-century theologian and bishop whom we remember today. In his great work Against Heresies, he sought to combat the heterodox versions of Christianity that surrounded him in a point-by-point refutation of their beliefs. At the same time, he laid out a Christian vision that affirmed the authority of the apostolic tradition and succession, the goodness of creation, and the relevance of the Hebrew Scriptures, a vision that would largely carry forward into the era of councils and creeds and orthodoxy of subsequent centuries.
The heresies Irenaeus faced are different than those that face us, but I think he speaks to us today in two important ways.
First, the truth matters, and it is worth arguing for and defending. We, like Irenaeus, live in an age of contested truth. Irenaeus makes clear his intent to address this head-on in the opening sentence of Against Heresies: “Inasmuch as certain men have set the truth aside, and bring in lying words and vain genealogies . . . and by means of their craftily-constructed plausibilities draw away the minds of the inexperienced and taken them captive, [I have felt constrained, my dear friend, to compose the following treatise in order to expose and counteract their machinations].” Read More
Herod’s Perplexity – Br. David Vryhof
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Br. David Vryhof
In today’s very brief gospel lesson, we get a glimpse into the heart of Herod Antipas, the Roman Jew who was the ruler of Galilee and Perea during Jesus’ lifetime. This short text from Luke’s gospel reveals that he is both frightened of Jesus and fascinated by him. It calls to mind Herod’s relationship to Jesus’ forerunner, John the Baptist. We read in Mark 6:20 that Herod “feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.” We know the rest of the story, don’t we… John’s popularity posed a threat to Herod and he had John arrested and imprisoned. Not long afterwards, in a state of drunkenness at a party he was hosting, Herod made an extravagant promise to his daughter, which led to John’s beheading. It was a promise he deeply regretted. It is clear that he was both fascinated by John and fearful of John’s influence. Read More
The Emergence of Courage – Br. Curtis Almquist
Br. Curtis Almquist
Saints Agnes and Cecilia of Rome, Martyrs
In the calendar of the church we remember today two early Christian martyrs: Saint Cecilia and Saint Agnes. Saint Cecilia, as a young woman, was married. She converted to Christianity members of her own household; however in the face of the demand from the Roman government to offer sacrifice to pagan idols, a demand she refused, Cecilia was martyred year 280. Saint Agnes, a 12-year old child, was brought to a civil magistrate, before whom she refused to renounce her Christian faith, and she, too, was martyred, this in year 304. Saint Ambrose of Milan wrote about Agnes that “all were astounded that she should come forward as a witness to God when she was still too young to be her own mistress.” The various accounts of Cecilia and Agnes’ martyrdom are appalling, which show something of the impact of the life and death these two young women made upon their contemporaries and succeeding generations.
The word “courage” comes to mind in remembering martyrs such as Cecilia and Agnes. Our word courage comes from the Latin word for heart, cor, then the Old French, corage. Courage emanates from the heart, the heart symbolizing the essence of a person. We hear Jesus say, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid.”[i] But courage is not something to work on. Becoming courageous is not a spiritual calisthenic. Courage comes as a byproduct, a characteristic or an action which is quite invisible to the person themselves. I have never once heard someone described as having done something courageous who sees this about themselves. Courage is in the eye of the beholder, not in the awareness of the actor. Read More