Violence and our perceptions

I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to express what I want to say here. Forgive me if I offend or shock, but here goes…

A few days ago reports were doing the rounds of the latest round of violence between Greek and Armenian monks in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I have been reflecting on such incidents a bit and realising that I am quite uncomfortable with the attention that they draw, both in the media and in the conversations that “enlightened” western Christians have about such things.

Don’t misunderstand me. I do not think that monks, or any other Christians, should go around beating each other up. Neither do I think that the divisions between Christians, as they find concrete expression in the holy places, are anything other than scandalous. But…

In thinking about this I was reminded of a conversation I once had with the Melkite Patriarch Gregory III, when he was still bishop of Jerusalem. I was left to make small talk with him when the abbess I was accompanying was unexpectedly called to the telephone. Not knowing what to say I commented on the divisions of the Churches in Jerusalem and, in typical western liberal Christian fashion, lamented how terrible it was. I was quite taken aback by his sharp response, which basically reprimanded me for commenting on things that I knew little about, although he was too gracious to put it quite so bluntly. He proceeded to tell me how the Churches in Jerusalem were working together and how their leaders met regularly to discuss matters of common concern, accounts of which I later heard from other sources as well.

Perhaps it is inevitable that sensational news like monks beating each other up attracts attention, but it does make me wonder about the power dynamics and the cultural presuppositions involved on the part of those who are so shocked by it. The Churches are divided and we are all of us violent creatures. Perhaps it should not be so shocking that this erupts in the Church’s holiest place, but perhaps it should also stimulate us to reflect on the divisions and the violence that we all-too-easily camouflage under a “civilised” discourse, whose presuppositions may have more to do with the respectability of the enlightenment than with the Gospel.

 

On superpowers, hype and hope

I was initially trying to ignore the U.S. election campaign because, well, it’s quite annoying being reminded of how dominant the superpower is. And I couldn’t help thinking that all the enthusiasm about Obama was more hype than anything else.

Then I thought of highlighting this post by Steve Hayes in which he describes himself as being more relieved than elated at Obama’s election, and which pretty much sums up my feelings on the American presidency – he is a South African after all! Or this one by Byron Smith (an Australian), which provides a thoughtful reflection on the dangers of messianic expectations.

But I must admit that I am beginning to be just slightly infected by some of the enthusiasm. When I read Peter Gilbert describing how a vast cloud had lifted I could not help but being reminded of our South African elections in 1994. I don’t want to overstate the comparison, much less to place Obama in the same category as Nelson Mandela. (And even Madiba was not the Messiah). And there was hype and emotion involved that tended to blur some of the real issues. But it did nevertheless do something important for our national identity, providing hope for a different type of society, and providing an end to our status as a pariah nation. It certainly did not usher in the Kingdom but it was nevertheless a formative experience that I look back on in gratitude, however messy South African reality may have become.

So, yes, I do rejoice, if rather tentatively, with those who are rejoicing and hope and pray that it makes a difference, not just for the U.S.A. but also for the rest of the world.

(And if anyone is inclined to raise the abortion issue in any isolated fashion, I would recommend this post).

 

Pannenbier and bells

No, that’s not the name of some little-known Dutch theologian. I think that the English equivalent is roof-wetting (although I have never been involved in such things in an English-speaking context before). In any case, it is what happens when a building reaches its highest point. And, significantly in our case, this involved the bell-tower. On Friday afternoon we celebrated the consecration of a new bell for our new monastery and then witnessed the bell-tower being hoisted up onto the new church.

 

Cyprian of Carthage in Amsterdam

Tomorrow I go to Amsterdam to attend a congress on St Cyprian of Carthage, organised to mark the 1750th anniversary of his martyrdom on Sunday (14 September). It is being organised by the Centrum voor Patristisch Onderzoek (Centre for Patristic Research), a joint venture that was started last year between the Catholic Theological Faculty (Tilburg and Utrecht) and the Vrije Universiteit of Amsterdam (Protestant). I’ve not had any contact with them yet, and my knowledge of Dutch Protestants is minimal (my knowledge of Dutch Catholics is not much better!) so it will be an interesting experience. I’ll hopefully report something on it later.

 

New Abbot General

I’m rather late mentioning this, but for anyone interested who hasn’t seen it elsewhere, on Monday, 8 September, feast of the Nativity of the Mother of God, Dom Eamon Fitzgerald was elected the new Abbot General of our Order.

Please pray for Dom Eamon, for the Order and, perhaps most especially, for his monastery of Mount Melleray in Ireland who have just lost their abbot.

 

General Chapter

Please pray for the General Chapter of our Order, which opened in Assisi yesterday. Apart from the usual pastoral and juridical issues that the abbots and abbesses gather to discuss every three years, they are also going to be electing a new abbot general as Dom Bernardo Olivera is retiring after eighteen years as abbot general.

In case anyone is interested there is a blog with news of the Chapter here.

 

John of Dalyatha: conference by Brother Benoît Standaert

Here is the last conference from the colloquium in Ghent. Please see my previous disclaimer concering the accuracy of my reporting and translations!

Brother Benoît Standaert, osb, is a monk of Saint Andrew’s Abbey, Zevenkerken, in Bruges, and author of several books which have been translated into French and Italian, but I am not aware of any English translations.

John of Dalyatha or John “Saba,” which means “the elder,” lived in the eighth century in Dalyatha, a mountainous region where modern Turkey, Iran and Iraq meet.

His life

John lived between 690 and 780 and was thus younger than Isaac of Nineveh whom he quotes. He began his novitiate around the year 710 in the monastery of Mar Yuzadaq and after seven years of formation was allowed to begin his eremitical life in the mountains of Dalyatha where he lived for the greatest part of his life. He had two brothers who were also monks. Towards the end of his life he returned to the region of Qardu in the southeast of modern Turkey. Together with other monks he rebuilt the deserted monastery of Mar Ya’kub where John became abbot. He died at a ripe old age surrounded by his brothers, and before he died he entrusted them with a rule of life.

 

Dom André Louf on the Liturgy of the Heart

This is my report of a public lecture given by Dom André Louf in Saint Andrew’s Orthodox Parish, Ghent, as part of the colloquium on the Syrian Fathers. Please note my earlier disclaimer on the accuracy of my reporting and translations, something that may particularly apply to my reporting of this talk as I was tired and my note taking somewhat uneven! I also have the impression that Dom André skipped over some sections due to time constraints. Once the text is published I may consider doing an English translation for publication somewhere.

Dom André Louf, ocso is abbot emeritus of the abbey of Mont des Cats in France and author of several books, including Teach us to Pray, The Cistercian Way and Grace can do more. He is now a hermit and translates Syrian texts. He was responsible for the French translation of the second series of St Isaac’s homilies.

The phrase “liturgy of the heart” is not found in Scripture but it finds its roots in the reference in 1 Peter 3, 4 in which Peter speaks of the “ho kruptos tès kardias anthropos” (“interior disposition of the heart”, NJB, or “inner self”, NRSV), literally the hidden human being of the heart.

This interior human heart is viewed by Scripture in rather ambiguous terms. It may be orientated to wicked schemes (Gen. 6, 5), it may be hard and even turned to stone (Ex. 7, 3) but it may also be softened and humbled (2 K 22, 19) and especially contrite (Ps 50, 17) and to be healed by God (Ps 147, 3). God reproaches the uncircumcised heart (Lv 26,41; Dt 10, 16; 30, 6; Jer. 9, 26). It is on the tablets of the heart that God will write a new law (Pr. 3,3; 7, 3). With the prophet Ezekiel God promises to change the heart of stone to a heart of flesh (11, 19; 36, 26). Solomon will plead for such a heart at the beginning of his reign (1 K. 3, 9) and advises his son David to watch over his heart, for from the heart come the wellsprings of life. (Pr. 4, 23)

 

Witness to God’s mercy: Conference of Br. Sabino Chialà on Isaac of Nineveh

Here is the third conference from the colloquium in Ghent. Please see my previous disclaimer concering the accuracy of my reporting and translations!

Brother Sabino Chialà is a monk of Bose monastery in Italy, the ecumenically orientated monastic community founded by Enzo Bianchi. He is responsible for the Italian translation of the third series (and parts of the first two series) of Saint Isaac’s homilies.

After Ephraim, Isaac of Nineveh, also known as Isaac the Syrian, is the most well known and best loved of the Syrian writers and his works have been translated into many languages. He has been known principally through his writings and his own history has remained rather vague, although there have been speculations that have identified him as a Coptic monk in Scetis, a Byzantine monk in Syria and a hermit in Italy! The vagueness was perhaps not entirely accidental, for it remains a paradox that such an influential spiritual writer, whose orthodoxy and holiness have been universally recognised, was in fact a member (and for a short time even a bishop) of a Church that the rest of the Christian world considered heretical.

Critical studies into Isaac’s work and background began towards the end of the nineteenth century with the work of J.B. Chabot. From such studies, it has become clear that Isaac was an East Syrian monk (and for some months a bishop) who was born in Bet Qatraye (present day Qatar) in the first half of the seventh century where he probably began his monastic life. The catholikos named him as bishop of Nineveh in the north of Mesopotamia, close to present day Mosul, between 676 and 680. After only some months he resigned as bishop and returned to his life as a hermit, this time in Bet Hazaye in what is today southwest Iran in or near the monastery of Rabban Shabur where he composed a number of homilies for his disciples. The date of his death is unknown but we are told that he died blind as a result of all his reading.

 

Conference by Dom André Louf on Simeon of Taibouthèh

This is my report of the second conference from the colloquium on the Syrian Fathers in Ghent last weekend. Please see my earlier disclaimer regarding the accuracy of my reporting and translations!

Dom André Louf, ocso is abbot emeritus of the abbey of Mont des Cats in France and author of several books, including Teach us to Pray, The Cistercian Way and Grace can do more. He is now a hermit and translates Syrian texts. He was responsible for the French translation of the second series of St Isaac’s homilies.

Our information concerning the life of Simeon comes from two Syrian chroniclers who lived several centuries later: Bar Hebraeus (+1286) and Abdisho Bar Brika (+1318). From these we learn that he had been a doctor before becoming a monk, that he lived during the episcopacy of Catholicus Henanisho (685-699), and that he wrote works on medicine, on monastic life and on the mystery of the cell. From these works we can also gather that he lived in the southeast of what is now Iraq, a region that at that time was undergoing a monastic growth and which was home to well known spiritual writers such as Dadisho Qatraya and Isaac of Nineveh. The latter was somewhat older than Simeon.

The designation “of Taibouthèh” refers not to a place, but means “of grace” and refers to one of his writings. Many manuscripts contain such a “Book of Grace” which had previously been ascribed to Isaac of Nineveh, but which recent critical scholarship believes to originate with Simeon. Simeon also refers to the crucial role of grace in his other works and is particularly concerned with the relationship between asceticism and grace.