Who Should I Trust?

I was originally writing a sermon for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (Jan 29 2012), but I was told that the canon to the bishop would be present at my parish to preach instead. Thus, these are some jumbled thoughts mixed together with some things I've been struggling with

The readings for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany can be found here.

 "A new teaching... with authority!"

With authority! It wasn't just a new teaching that took his listeners by surprise; that new teaching was accompanied by authority. In other words, Jesus wasn't just babbling on about love and God and the Son of Man and forgiveness. He was backing up his words with authority.

How could his listeners tell he had authority?

How can we tell that he had authority?

Right now it's not so clear who we can trust for anything. With all the different drugs out there that get recalled for being unsafe, who can I trust to take care of me when I'm sick? Who can I trust to tell me what's going on in the world around me? Who can I trust with the fate of my future and my soul?

Who do you trust?

Who do I trust?

Sometimes I don't really know. There are people who tell me wonderful things about myself, and sometimes those are the people who hurt me the most. Then there are people who tell me wonderful things about myself but they don't make me hurt. There are guys who've told me that I'm wonderful and attractive and everything, but then they cast me away or make me feel completely unlovable. Then there are friends who tell me that I'm wonderful and attractive, but then why am I still single?

Who can I trust to tell me the truth?

In my discernment process (which, for me at least, has been going on for a few years, even if I haven't been actively moving forward toward ordained ministry) I've doubted on multiple occasions my call. I've refused it. I can't do it- I'm not smart enough / kind enough / strong enough for it. I'm just deluding myself with it. But then I have moments where I see it, and then I have moments when others see it in me.

Who do I trust?

Not only do we need to hear the Truth, but we also need to hear the Authority behind it. We can't just hear words and have their Truth ring in our hearts, but we also need to know, to trust, that there is a power behind that Truth.

But then who do we trust? Who can I trust with my deepest self, my dreams, my goals? Who can I trust with my very future, my soul, and my well-being? Who will tell me the truth but do it with the authority of God, the authority that is the Love that creates, redeems and sanctifies us?

Add in the fact that God says there will be both real and false prophets. There will be truth-tellers, and there will be those who proclaim something as truth which is not fully true.

Back to my examples. There have been guys who have told me I'm wonderful, attractive, etc. Some of them have hurt me deeply and others who have not. Some who may have been lying. Some who were not. The content of their message may have been mostly the same, but not all of them had the authority because they may have said it for their own gain or for some other reason. Sometimes even the right message will lack the authority behind it to make it the Truth.

That's why we can trust Paul. For all his flaws, we see in his letter the love he has for the people he's writing about. There are no gods but God, and idols are just statues without power. To eat meat sacrificed to them was no sin because the idols were nothing real, but to hurt another believer who couldn't see that or truly believe it was a sin. His motivation wasn't to be dogmatically correct at all costs nor was it to placate believers who couldn't just give up the old ways. Where do we see that now? Some who insist that they are the only ones who are right, and others who demand every concession be made to them.

Look to the Truth. Look for the prophets with Authority. See it in their eyes, in their moments off-guard, see it in their hearts and lips. What guides them?

And look to yourself. By whose authority do you act? Are you a true prophet to yourself, or are you a false one?

Who do you trust? Who can you trust? Most importantly, who will you trust with your heart and soul, who will you trust to tell the truth?

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Except that the local Christmas music station stopped playing Christmas music at noon today... today still being Christmas. Of course, it must be that once all the gifts have been unwrapped and the veritable orgy of consumeristic delight and gift-giving and feigned thanks for yet another tchotchke has ended that Christmas is truly over.

At this time of year, every year, we have two main currents set in opposition to each other. One current is the consumerist strain that traditionally begins the day after Thanksgiving, although that is changing. The other current is the counter-current of "Christmas is about family / caring for others / hope and love." These currents oppose one another even though one always wins.

If everyone seems to agree that family /caring for others is the most worthwhile part of Christmas, its true spirit, then why does consumerism always seem to win? I think, at its heart, it's about the struggle of Christianity in a different light. Christianity was a religion that was oppressed by the political and religious authorities of its day and saw itself as a 'counter-cultural' movement. Early Christians were to be the leaven of the world. When Christianity was tolerated and then made the state religion in Rome, however, that changed. How can you be a counter-cultural movement when you are de facto the culture? It's about like when a 28 year old in the business world finally realizes that he is no longer fighting 'The Man' but is, in fact, 'The Man' as he covets that promotion and that corner office. He has become something he often derided and swore he never would be.

Being the 'counter-culture', the leaven, the oppressed minority has a purifying effect. Because you can change little, you cannot be blamed for failure, and your oppression shows the rightness of the cause. When you are no longer the minority, however, you have power. You can be blamed for failure, and the rightness of the cause can be corrupted by political necessities and being "practical."

In America, consumerism is our culture. The news has covered sales reports as a gauge of the true health of our nation; we are only as strong as our impulse to buy everything that we are told that we need. The counter-current of "Christmas is not about the gifts, it's about family / joy / caring for others" provides a nice feeling that we are truly righteous and it gives us a battle to wage. It is a unifying effect. People can nod to each other in the store, fellow comrades in the battle against the degradation of Christmas by consumeristic forces while at the same time getting that 'must have' gift item. We get to play both sides of the fence, enjoying the comforts of consumerism while feeling vindicated by the rightness of the cause.

But oh well! Christ has been born, and our Savior reigns!

Merry Christmas!

Less than Saint Augustine (Retreat 2011 reflections pt 3)

St Augustine of Hippo was smarter than you and me.

Well, most likely he was. He was a gifted theologian with a very deep spirituality in the early ages of the Church. His writings were strongly influenced by the work of the Greek philosopher Plato. His theology has influenced the Western church to the present. He is titled a "Doctor of the Church" for his wisdom and his influence on the Church.

Back to my first sentence, then. He was probably a lot smarter than both you and me combined.

That's not an insult at all, though. Why should it be? That's like saying that Einstein was smarter than the both of us combined. Or that Gerard Butler is more handsome than I. Or that Drew Brees of the New Orleans Saints is a better quarterback than I am (and he is, by far). It's a simple statement of fact.

In our world, we are pressured to be the best. "If you ain't first, you're last," as Ricky Bobby, the Nascar driver character from the movie Talladega Nights would say. If someone says to me that I'm not athletic (which is true), then I jump to telling myself that I'm at least smarter or kinder or less judgmental than them. If I can't beat 'em in one category, then I will in another!

Why do we do that? Because humility is not fun. Humility is to admit the truth, to concede that I'm not close to being a Super Bowl-winning quarterback or that I'm not writing an essay in theology so original that it causes a whole religious movement. Ain't gonna happen. Someone can do what I can only dream of doing, and they might be capable of more than I could do even if I had years of training or education. There's not automatically a category in which I beat them by default.

That's not going to make me sad, though. I'm not sad that I won't be cast in a remake of the movie 300.  I'm not beating myself up over it. Why? How can humility, how can admitting your shortcomings, not make me sad?

Humility means stepping back from the judgment game. There's a subtle jump from admitting that Drew Brees is a far better quarterback than I would be (true) to admitting that he's a better human being than me because of it (not necessarily true). The first statement is just a fact. He has had years of training and plenty of passion to become a great quarterback. I have not, and being a quarterback isn't really high on my list of personal priorities. We are different people, and yet he is not more of a person for being a great quarterback nor am I less of a person for not being one.

On my retreat I read Dom Cuthbert Butler's Western Mysticism: Augustine, Gregory and bernard on Contemplation and the Contemplative Life. Quite an interesting read, and it addresses the different approaches to the contemplative life as it explains what the contemplative life is. In it, Butler explains how relatively unoriginal Gregory's thought is compared to Augustine. Gregory wasn't as eloquent as Augustine (especially since Augustine was a teacher of public speaking in his younger days), his theology wasn't as piercing or creative. He was smart, of course, just not Augustine-level smart.

At first that sounds like a backhanded compliment. But how is it? How is it truly insulting to say that Gregory wasn't as smart or original as Augustine? Gregory didn't need to be as smart as Augustine; Gregory was as smart as Gregory. He put together concrete rules for pastoral care and is responsible for the Church music known as Gregorian chant. He was smart enough to do all that. Comparing him to Augustine would be silly now.

Of course, I might then say, "Still, Gregory accomplished all that! I'm not as smart as Gregory, either..." That also may be true. But what of it?

Each of us has a mission from God. We're sent into the world with a backpack of skills and talents and asked to make the most of them. Some of us will have tons of advantages, skills, talents, resources. Some of us will have less. Some of us will have very little. Having little is not an insult unless we refuse to accept what we have. I am glad that others have talents that I do not, and I am glad that they have them in greater measure than I do.

A few weeks ago the Gospel reading was the parable of the talents where a ruler gives his slaves various sums of money. My co-teacher in Sunday School and I each re-wrote it to explore the meaning behind it. I changed the ending to explore how the slave who just buried his money might have fared had he chosen a different course:

A powerful king was leaving his country for a year, leaving his ministers in charge of the affairs of the nation. But to three of his slaves he personally handed them sums of money; to one slave $500,000; to another he gave $250,000, and to the last he gave $50,000. To them he said, “Take this money, make me wealthier upon my return.”

The first slave rushed to the marketplace and quickly obtained a quantity of cloth, threads and silk, and hired women to make fine garments. The first slave knew that the ministers and their rich friends would be eager to have new clothes to show off their new stature in the nation. From the inferior cloth the first slave had suitable garments made for those of lesser means, and gave the scraps away to those who had nothing. This slave soon had a thriving business in the city and earned his master money.

The second slave took his money and hired himself a teacher so he could learn to write and read. This slave made detailed records of the goings-on in the palace and watched closely the courts of justice. He spent time debating with court scholars and learned the finer points of rhetoric and logic. Upon hearing of his master's imminent return, this slave rushed around, trying to find some profit in what he'd done. His master had demanded to be made wealthier upon his return, had he not? He had not spent all the money but he had earned little back. He soon took to teaching others in the palace for money, but did not recover all the money he had spent nor earn any extra for his master.

The third slave, upon receiving the money, trembled in fear. He was not shrewd like the first nor as wise as the second. He knew no trade well. Why had he been entrusted with anything, let alone such a sum? Looking out the window he saw the streets below. The sick, the hungry, and the poor struggled out there, while he had this princely sum. He knew he would make no money in whatever he did. In one year he could easily spend this money, and then he could face his master's wrath, but in this year he could do good for someone. He took this money, bought food and clothes and paid for the care of the sick. He couldn't keep track of what he'd spent, so the second slave occasionally helped him see what he'd done. The first slave would hand him scraps of cloth and pay for one of his workers to make garments for the poor, and the third slave gladly handed them away. Whenever anyone asked about his work, he would smile and say, “The king asked me to care for you and gave me money before he left. Our king is a good man.” He trembled when he would say that, for he knew the king was a harsh man.

The year concluded, the king returned and called his three slaves in immediately. The first presented the king with the vast amounts of money he had earned, and the king nodded in appreciation. The second handed over what was left and then pointed to the servants in the hall carrying the records he had made. “My king, here are learned servants with the records I kept while you were gone. The ministers spent lavishly, but I kept track of every thing they spent of your treasury.” The king took the tablets, and, reading them, barely covered his rage at their work.

The third slave then started to tear up as the king's fiery eyes landed on him. “My king, I am not a wise man like my brother here, not a shrewd man like my brother there. I was afraid when you gave me that money, so I took it and spent it on the poor in the streets in your name. I knew this day would come when you would find me lacking, but at least the poor for one year would find life better and know it came from your hand.” He stared down at the floor. The king was silent for a moment. To the first he said, “You, slave, you have done well. You shall serve me well in years to come. Enter into the joy of a new future.” To the second he said, “You, slave, have earned me no money, but you kept watch over my household that it may be managed justly and fairly. The wicked ministers shall meet their end, and you shall take their place. Enter into the joy of a new future.” To the third he said, “Slave, you knew your limits. You knew your failures and weaknesses. You were afraid from the moment I placed some of that money in your sweaty palm. You, however, took what little I had given and gave it away in my name. The honor of a man is a good name, and you have ministered in my name to those in the streets. You have many years ahead, my good and faithful servant.”  

So when you're feeling down that you're not as smart/attractive/interesting/clever/athletic/funny as someone else, just remember that you are you. Make the most of yourself for the honor and glory of God. 

Co-Creators (2011 Retreat Reflections part 2)

Barrenness.

Sarah and Hannah knew that pain. In a culture that valued children for carrying on the husband's lineage and reputation, not being able to have children was an incredible pain and shame. Sarah and Hannah probably both cried themselves to sleep at night, wondering, "What's wrong with me?"

Sarah was old by the time the promise of offspring was given to her. "Too little, too late!" She probably snorted out in a teary huff. "What kind of sick joke is this?"

Hannah was tormented by her husband's other wife. "Look at my children, they shall inherit your husband's name and fortune!" Hannah was deeply loved by Elkanah her husband. He would give her a double serving of the offering because he loved her.

For cultures that placed a high premium on offspring, imagine the tears that would flow for being loved deeply by a husband even if the wife were unable to have children. "What good am I at all? Why would you love me?"

We often put our worth in terms of our usefulness. I'm worthwhile because I am a devoted husband / a caring father / a brilliant writer / a great something. We have to bear some kind of fruit in order to be worth anything, so we think.

While our culture doesn't focus as much on having children, it does see singleness as an incredible problem. Can you be truly happy as a single person? Our culture would assume that you would be having meaningless, random sex or be crying at home, longing for someone to hold you, tubs of Ben and Jerry's ice cream on the coffee table. To be single has become a sign that you are a failure.

For me, it's been tough facing the real possibility of living a life of celibacy, without the intimacy of marriage. Admittedly, I'm not old yet, and, if I am accepted as a postulant for the priesthood, then I am not bound by vows of celibacy (though I must be chaste until marriage), but it's still very possible that I won't find someone 'special' to share my life with. Being gay and finding someone is tough, and now add in the fact that religion is an extraordinarily important part of my life, and the odds seem to get slimmer.

You can be told that you're wonderful, kind, sweet, all those things, but does it mean much if you're still single? As in there is some deep-rooted flaw that keeps me from being loved in that way, something that keeps me from being seen as a friend AND a lover. It takes a lot of trust to even believe that maybe, just maybe, in a different situation maybe you'll find the right person. Maybe.

But that trust can't hinge upon a delayed happiness. I can't just accept that I'll be unhappy until, as in romantic comedies, the right guy just walks in, our eyes lock, and we have a series of comic mishaps until marriage. That leaves me miserable today, and tomorrow, and every day until that magic event happens.

But to be truly happy today as a single human is odd. To be happy as a single person means facing the fact that happiness comes in many forms and that singleness is not necessarily loneliness. Christian saints through the centuries have shown themselves to be single and happy, and no one would call the Dalai Lama a "lonely old man"!

But now it comes to the next problem: what's the meaning of a single life? By having children or at least a partner, there's this sense of fruitfulness. A life has been made or a life has been enriched with love through partnership. But a single person?

That's where I start to feel sad. Will my life be barren if it doesn't have sexual and emotional intimacy as in marriage?

The answer is definitely no.

My life already has been fruitful in some of the relationships and friendships I've had. In some small measure I have made a positive impact in some lives already; that's definitely fruitful! By God's grace some of the things I have done will have continue long after me in some way, much as the works of my ancestors (both my ancestors in the family and my ancestors in the faith) continue to resound today even if the saint responsible is unknown.

The Society of St John the Evangelist uses the language of 'co-creating' with God. From their chapter on Celibate Life:

Each of us will pass through different phases in our lives of celibate chastity. At times we will be glad of our inner solitude, which fosters prayer, and the diversity of relationships we enjoy in community and with friends; at other times we will feel loneliness. While others are enjoying the consolations of community life, some brothers may be missing the solace of partnership, the joys of sex and the satisfaction of having a home of their own. There will be seasons of contentment in our singleness; there may be days of testing and confusion if we fall in love, or become strongly attracted to another.
Struggles will come at different stages as we break through to new levels of integration; the challenges faced by young religious will not be the same as those that come with the onset of middle age. Old age may bring its own trials of doubt. Only if we share these different experiences in candor and trust can we offer one another genuine support.
At times many of us will miss having fathered children. We shall need to open the poignancy of this loss to Christ in prayer. He will show us that in union with him our lives have been far from barren. As we nurture others in Christ, and bring them to maturity, we shall discover that fatherhood has found expression in our lives. In prayer, meditation, our thought, our work and our friendships, we are called to fulfill our deep human urge to be creators with God of new life, and to bear fruit that lasts.

I may not be completely responsible for the work done (God is doing most of the work in helping, guiding, sustaining others), but I have my part. A small part, a big part, whatever part God gives me.

And God is with me every step of the way. He who knows my heart, my every emotion, who loves me more purely and thoroughly than anyone else could ever. He knows my pains and every longing sigh. Nothing is hidden from him.

Though I may be single, God can make wonderful things spring forth from me. How wonderful and amazing! How glorious is our God!

Carbonated Souls (2011 Retreat Reflections Part 1)

Silence is a constant source of restoration. Yet its healing power does not come cheaply. It depends on our willingness to face all that is withing us, light and dark, and to heed all the inner voices that make themselves heard in silence. (From Chapter 27, "Silence," of the Rule of the Society of St John the Evangelist)

It's been a week and a half since I've returned from my retreat to the monastery of the Society of St John the Evangelist (an Episcopal monastic order). Since I'm a member of the Fellowship of St John, their association of lay and ordained oblates who pray for the work of the Society and try to live in harmony with the SSJE's rule of life and since going on retreat to Catholic monasteries leaves me unable to fully participate in the Holy Communion, it was the best place to go.

I made my reservations and plans months ago. I packed my bags, threw in some books from the library and off I flew. There was nothing specific I wanted to meditate on or contemplate beyond, "Maybe I should be a monk..."

Anxious about arriving on time, anxious about navigating Boston's public transit system with baggage in tow, anxious about walking through Cambridge in the dark, I arrived at the door of the monastery and was kindly greeted by the guesthouse manager. He showed me to my room. We passed by the chapel where Mass was already being celebrated and I could smell the incense. How I wanted to be there for the sacred mysteries! I plopped down my bags, washed my sweaty face and waited for Mass to be over to go to dinner. Dinner was taken in silence save for a brother reading a biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and soon after was Compline, the bedtime prayers of the church.

The next day was a retreat day for the brothers; the noonday Mass and Evening Prayer were to be the only services conducted, leaving me plenty of time to nap. The brother in charge of guests said he'd meet with me after the brothers' retreat day.

For that day and a half, I was immersed in silence. Other than chanting the prayers and psalms, silence reigned. And in that silence I found myself bubbling with anger, judgment and discontent. In that holy space I was overcome by emotion that was taking me farther away from God than I'd been before my arrival. In realizing what was going on, I recognized that God had been making plans where I had not. I hadn't been planning what I'd be studying and reflecting on during my retreat, but God sure had. God wanted me to take in some lessons about humility, letting go, and embracing joy.

When I met with the brother the next day, he remarked that there was a marked shift from the day before. The day before my anger and judgment were displayed on my face, but the next day it seemed lighter. In working to find an explanation for myself about why I'd felt so angry, I remarked that it felt "like I was a bottle of soda which suddenly had no cap"; in the silence all the emotions and feelings and bad habits that had been kept inside by sheer force of pressure and busy-ness came floating to the surface.

I had had an inkling that those feelings were there. They popped up in some form every once in a while, but I didn't expect that they'd launch such a strong assault! And on retreat, no less! I was supposed to be enjoying a refreshing break, a holy silence, an enlightening period of meditation and prayer. I was supposed to be better than that.

That's not how soul-work goes. In the midst of retreat I had no image to protect. I had nothing to do (the monks didn't care if I read my meditations, my friends didn't know what books I'd packed along, and I was more than capable of napping most of the time while I was there). No responsibilities at all. With all this nothing suddenly I was alone in the presence of God, surrounded though I was by the Church. In this one-on-one with God I could start to let go of things, but first I had to know that there were things I was holding onto unexpectedly.

In silence we might just get a glimpse of the Holy. We might just see ourselves in a mirror, and if we wisely refrain from judgment we might get a chance to be born anew. When I noticed how strongly the anger, judgment and frustration were affecting me, God had me look at myself without judgment (or, well, with less judgment than I am capable of). I had to laugh- God certainly had to laugh at watching me fold my arms in silent indignation while I was judging in my heart.

Certainly the jet lag had a role in my state. Certainly being a stranger in a strange land had a role, too. And suddenly being silent and alone in my thoughts had a hand in it, too. Those might have been just the right kinds of pressure to crack the seal on my lid so that some of the negatives that had been dissolved in me could bubble up and out.

Now the struggle is to dissolve something else in me; who likes flat soda all that much? I wonder: who could make me joyously effervescent and bubbly, a refreshing drink made from the waters of life and the breath of the Spirit?

Jesus Christ, the Soda Bottler? The Carbonator of Faithful Souls? Apt image, maybe.

All Souls' Day - But Which Souls?

Today is All Souls' Day. It follows on All Saints' Day, when the church remembers all the faithful departed who have stood out to us for lives that especially gave us glimpses of the Holy.

All Souls' Day, then, is for everyone else in the church who has died. People who have struggled to live the faith, those lured by the temptations of the world, those whose faith is known to God alone. Today we remember that the assembly in Heaven will be larger than those on the "official" guest list we have on Earth. Who knows who might be there! Will it be many? Will it be few? I can only imagine that Heaven will be full because God is gracious and loving, merciful to the least of us.

But what about animals?

Today I read a heart-breaking story about a dog, Duncan, who saved his owner's life by barking to alert him to a fire. Duncan, sadly, did not survive; he was found curled up in his master's bed where he went when he was afraid. The thought of this dog, so faithful to his owner, dying in fear as flames surrounded him filled me to the brim with sadness. Duncan was also a boxer mix, and boxers always have a soft spot in my heart.

But what about Duncan?

For those whose Heaven is small, Duncan has ceased to exist. Because he was not human, he had nothing eternal in him. He was not in the image of God; therefore he is no more. Their Heaven is too small for God to fit.

For others, Duncan sits waiting at the "Rainbow Bridge" (Wikipedia article), waiting for his master to come. His afterlife is incomplete until his owner, Scott, has passed into death. Duncan is happy, except for one thing: he misses his owner. As kind as this image is, it leaves Duncan incomplete. His joy is half-finished, and it leaves God out of the picture. God loves Duncan deeply.

So could he be in Heaven?

Yes, yes, yes. In reading the Psalms the praise of God's mercy shines through. Psalm 145 declares that "The Lord is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made" (v. 9). Psalm 147 reminds us that God gives all the animals their sustenance; God's grace is over his entire creation.

Jesus preached, "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten in God's sight. But even the hairs of your head are all counted. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows" (Luke 12:6-7). Yes, in the hierarchy of values humans are worth more than animals but that is far from making animals without value! Why else would God make a covenant with not only Noah but with all the animals saved in the Ark (Genesis 9:8-17)? God cares for the fate of all creation, not just humans.

Humankind may be special in God's sight for our capacity to create, to choose the Way of Everlasting Life, to live into holiness and kindness right now, but all creation is still loved by God. If God did not love all creation, it would only be for our sake that creation endures. It would only be because humans still existed that God did not extinguish creation like a candle flame. God's plan is to redeem and consecrate his creation.

We human beings mourn over the death of beloved animal friends and pray for them. That is a glimpse of God's deep well of mercy. To pray for the fate of a humble dog? To attribute to him human characteristics of love, loyalty, devotion, fear, to make this dog a he and not an it? In our best moments, our animals participate in our humanity. They become friends with personalities. They participate in our humanity by our invitation and therefore take on the "image of God" that God has created in us.

Does God ignore it when we pray for others? Could God possibly ignore a plea to remember his humble creation who seemed to live a more Godly life than we do? Of course not.

God loves his creation deeply and will not abandon it to death. Death will not have the last answer; the fear that Duncan had in his final moments will not be the end of it. No, no, I refuse to even consider that terror and agony and isolation will ever have the final say. Christ takes this agony and terror and abandonment into himself and took it to his grave. It is all brought to God. But Christ rose from death on the third day and is robed in glory and majesty to wipe the tear from every eye! "To the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, power, and authority, before all time and now and forever! Amen!" (Jude 1:25)

So, Duncan, canis Dei, rejoice now, and enter into Master Jesus' rest.

May all the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace. Amen.

The Ten Commandments

Earlier this month, our bishop made his annual visitation. A core part of his sermon dealt with the Ten Commandments. He pointed out the beauty of the translation of the Ten Commandments in the Book of Common Prayer's catechism. The commandments are less "Thou shalt not" and more "Thou shalt". We can't just go down the list and mutter "Nope, haven't done that one! Or that one! Guess I'm good!" The Prayer Book's catechism focuses on the positive- it gives us guidance as to what to do.

Commandments (and the rest of the Law as given by Moses) have a strange place in Christianity. On one hand, we have St Paul reminding us that we are saved by God's grace in Jesus Christ; we can't earn our life with God because it is a gift.On the other hand, we have St James reminding us that if our relationship with God doesn't translate to our relationships with others, then we aren't really living the Gospel.

We can take St Paul's theology too far and wrongly interpret him as saying "It's all good! Jesus will wash those sins away. Sin away!" Does this characterize the modern American mindset? For some it does. The acceptance of homosexuality and birth control are just two signs that "All is acceptable." They believe that the modern age's moral compass is "Does it feel good?"

Then some see Christianity as a set of frozen, lifeless rules and obligations, most of which are broken by hypocrites in the church.

Christianity can't be lifeless rules, but it also isn't "Do what you like." It's a path walking to and with God, and we need guidance for the road.So then the Ten Commandments (and the rest of the Law) are guideposts for Christians. They sit alongside the road directing us toward the destination and help us from getting lost and confused, but it isn't in keeping those commandments that we are saved. The path means nothing if it doesn't bring us closer to God, but we do need some light to help illumine the path.


Here's a litany for the Ten Commandments. It is based on the catechism and the penitential order from the Prayer Book. 

Litany of the Ten Commandments

Lord, have mercy.

Christ, have mercy.

Lord, have mercy.

O God, you have given us the Law to be a lantern to our feet and a light upon our path, and through your commandments we gain understanding. But we sin against you; we do not keep your decrees because of the foolishness and malice of our hearts. Through your Son, Jesus Christ, you have redeemed us and freed us from sin and made us heirs of your eternal kingdom. Your Law gives light and guidance; your Son gives redemption and grace.

The first and greatest commandment is to love you, the Lord our God, with all our heart, and all our soul, and all our mind.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to love and obey you and to bring others to know you.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to put nothing in your place, to let no one but you in the temples in our hearts.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to show you respect in thought, word, and deed, to respect the holiness of Your Name.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to set aside regular times for worship, prayer, and the study of your ways.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

The second great commandment is like the first. We are to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to love, honor and help our parents and family; to honor those in authority and to meet their just demands.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to show respect for the life God has given us; to work and pray for peace; to bear no malice, prejudice and hatred in our hearts; and to be kind to all the creatures of God.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to use our bodily desires as God intended, for we are members of the Body of Christ and share in his eternal priesthood.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to be honest and fair in our dealings; to seek justice, freedom and the necessities of life for all people; and to use our talents and possessions as ones who must answer for them to you, O God.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to speak the truth and not to mislead others by our silence.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

We are to resist temptations to envy, greed, and jealousy; to rejoice in other people's gifts and graces; and to do our duty for the love of You who has called us into fellowship with the Holy Trinity.

Lord, have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep your Law.

Almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen us in all goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep us in eternal life. Amen.