A Surprising Saint

On 29 December, much of the Church will celebrate the feast day of Thomas Becket. I point that out in this week’s post because many of us will be recovering from our Christmas celebration and be busy making resolutions for 2013 about that time. We might miss the moment. The story’s too good to miss.

Some of us remember Becket from the movie of the same name released in 1964 which starred Richard Burton in the role of Becket and Peter O’Toole as England’s king Henry II. Others remember the story from our study of the Christian Church. I’m guessing most of us have no idea what the story was about. That’s too bad, because the story is important for many reasons. So, here’s the story in a nutshell.

To fully appreciate what happened to Becket, a little context will be helpful. Becket was born in the twelfth century in London in the middle of what we call the Middle Ages or the Medieval period. In the Middle Ages, the Roman Catholic Church was extraordinarily powerful, controlling all of life—this one and the next. The Church had positioned itself as the only instrument that could provide salvation from death and a life of eternal torment. People were in a near perpetual state of anxiety about their eternal future, fearing the Church as much as revering it.

At this time, the Pope was powerful enough to remove kings, but kings could not remove Popes. The usual method employed by the Pope to deal with uncooperative kings was to place their kingdom under interdict. Interdict meant that the clergy did not provide the sacraments to the people—the very means of grace that could assure them of their salvation. If you died while your king was under interdict, you could not be buried in the consecrated ground of a parish cemetery. Not uncommonly, bodies would just be stacked near the cemetery awaiting the lift of the interdict. No marriages, no weddings, no Eucharist, no penance: no hope of heaven. The intention of the Church was to cause the people to rise up and over throw the monarch so the kingdom could be returned to the Church’s favor and the sacraments once again become available. It was a powerful and effective tool used many times by the papacy.

English kings had a problem with having a “foreign” power having this much control over them. When William, who would be called the Conqueror, defeated the last Anglo-Saxon king of England in 1066, he became the first Norman king. One of his agenda items was to reform what he considered to be a corrupt Church in England. He declared he himself to be the head of the Church in England—almost 500 years before Henry VIII. So when Henry II, 100 years of so after William wanted to flex his muscles viz a viz Rome, he had a precedent—his great grandfather, William.

In 1162 the Archbishop of Canterbury died and Henry wanted to appoint his friend, Thomas Becket to the most important Church position in England. Not only did he have a lot of respect for Thomas, he believed Thomas would support him in a reform he wanted. At this time, Church courts were the only ones that could try clergy for wrong doing. The tendency was to either acquit or to impose light punishments. Henry believed this undermined his authority as king and intended to change that. He would be the final power in his own kingdom.

Becket knew what the king wanted and he told Henry he didn’t want the job. He wrote Henry that were he to be Archbishop, “our friendship will turn to hate.” Henry persisted and Becket took the post. It changed him. He had been a “party animal,” living a luxurious lifestyle. Now he ate only bread and water, slept on the floor, and under his splendid robes of office, wore a horse hair shirt. He showed concern for the poor, giving them the food meant for his table.

Henry passed a law in 1164 that stated any person found guilty in a Church court would be punished by a royal court. He insisted Becket support him, but Becket would not. Eventually, fearing for his life, Becket went into exile.

After six years, he felt it safe enough to return, wooed back by Henry, but the turmoil only escalated. When the Archbishop of York supported Henry’s efforts, Becket asked the Pope to excommunicate him. Henry was enraged. He was king and demanded obedience and loyalty, but Becket asserted his allegiance was to a more powerful King, God himself as represented by the Church.

In a fit of anger, Henry is said to have shouted, “Will no one rid me of this troublesome priest?” It is not clear he actually said this, nor is it clear that he wanted Becket dead, but four of his knights understood whatever happen that way. They murdered Becket in Canterbury Cathedral. The Pope quickly made him a saint.

And Henry? To receive forgiveness from the Pope, he was required to walk barefoot from his palace to the Cathedral and to pray at the spot Becket fell; as he prayed, monks whipped him. The people? The Cathedral became a place of pilgrimage for people, not just in England, but from all of Europe. The spot of the murder is identified even today with a plaque and a continually burning candle flame. When Henry VIII looted the Church in the 16^th century, it took 21 carts to haul away the valuables left at Becket’s shrine by pilgrims.

Becket faced the same kind of issue we all face: whom will I serve, to whom will I be loyal? As we proclaim the birth of Jesus, we should be reminded his intention was the establish the Kingdom of God, a kingdom in which we are citizens. Our personal question: what kind of citizen will I be?

Peace, Jerry

Christ the King?

The Sunday past was The Feast of Jesus Christ the King, usually shortened to Christ the King Sunday. Unlike many major feast days of the Church, this one is not yet a century old. How did it come about? Concerned about the rise of secularism in the world, Pope Pius XI instituted this feast in 1925. In the encyclical, or letter to the Church, in which he announced this new feast, he asserted that many Christians had begun to doubt Christ’s authority and even Christ’s existence. He also worried that the Church was having a diminished ability to continue to exert Christ’s authority in the world.

The religious world was being shaken. Darwin’s theories had made their mark. Geologists were asserting an age of the world far older than the Church had been teaching. Biblical scholars, especially in Germany, had begun to study the Bible in new ways. One of the results was a theory that the first five books of the Bible or Torah were written, not by Moses, but by a collection of four authors or schools over a period of hundreds of years. All this was flying in the face of traditional Christian thought. In the U.S., a movement that continues to today, Fundamentalism, was the reaction to these non-traditional ideas. Pius was right to be concerned.

The date of the feast was eventually set as the last Sunday or Ordinary Time, that is, the Sunday prior to Advent. Pius hoped the feast would result in three things. First, he hoped the nations of the world would see that the Church has the right to be free from State interference. Second, he hoped world leaders would see that, because Christ is King, they would give him the respect he deserves. Third, he hoped the faithful would be reminded that Christ is King of their hearts, minds and bodies and would gain strength from the celebration to live a Christian life.

Unfortunately, it seems as if Pius’ hopes have yet to be realized. The Church continues to do battle with secularism. In some parts of the world, Christians are still persecuted by the State; in others, like England, it has become all but irrelevant. But perhaps the greatest threat to Christ’s kingship is the growing emphasis on individuality and personal entitlement throughout many parts of the world, the western world in particular. Who wants to obey a King if it requires submission of one’s wishes and desires? Sadly, not many, apparently.

In some parts of the Church, there are those who want to stop identifying Christ as King or Lord because these titles have a history of oppression attached to them. Historically, kings and lords have, in fact, tended to care little for their subjects. But we need to remember what Jesus said in Mark’s Gospel:

“You know that those who are recognized as rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to become great among you will be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all. For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:42-45, NAB).”

Clearly Christ’s lordship is not the ordinary kind.

Some things to think about.

Peace, Jerry

Advent: What's It All About?

We’re closing in on the end of the Church or liturgical year. For liturgical purposes, the first Sunday in the new year is the first Sunday of Advent, which is 2 December this year. Sundays after Pentecost—the longest season of the year—was twenty-six weeks this year! The Sundays after Pentecost are also known as Ordinary Time. What this points to is the fact that between Pentecost and Christmas, there are no major feast days, so the time is…ordinary.

The word “Advent” derives from a Latin word that means “coming” or “arrival.” So the season of Advent, which is four Sundays ending on Christmas Eve, is a celebration of Jesus’ first Advent, that is, his birth. But the season also has another meaning: we anticipate Jesus’ Second Coming or Advent sometime in the future.

With the focus on the first Advent, we don’t just remember the birth story of Jesus—though it seems that way sometimes. The season is about celebrating something more; it’s about God’s breaking into history in order to reconcile all of creation. Our theology tells us that Jesus was the ultimate revelation of God’s love for each of us and for all creation. At the same time, we focus on a reality. That reality is that creation is not yet all God intends, and we are not yet all God intends. With Jesus’ second Advent, God’s ultimate will shall be realized and all will be made right.

We don’t know exactly when Advent began in the history of the Church. Christians until the fourth century didn’t have a universal feast for the birth of Jesus. In 380, a group of bishops required believers to be absent from church between 17 Dec and the Feast of the Epiphany in early January. There are a couple of sermons from the sixth century that mention a preparation for the birthday of Jesus.

For many centuries, Advent—even before it was called that—was viewed as a penitential season very much like Lent. Fasts and abstinence from 15 November, were the norm. The color purple, the Lenten color, was also the color of Advent. In more recent times, with the shift to the future, the emphasis is more on anticipation of God’s promise fulfilled. Some parishes, including St. Mary’s, have adopted Sarum Blue, or light blue, as the color rather than purple in order to move us toward anticipation and promise.

In the same way many of us view the beginning of the secular year as a time for making resolutions for the year ahead, Advent can be seen as a similar time. As we anticipate the Second Advent, we remember we have some role in preparing for God’s coming Kingdom. We can examine our lives to find ways to be more faithful and more about the Kingdom to come. Our prayer during Advent can be less about our sinfulness and more about our devotion, our commitment, our renewed determination to be living examples of the Kingdom to come.

Enjoy Advent as it builds toward Christmas, but move well beyond shopping, cooking, travel, cards and carols and move toward our hope in Jesus.

Peace, Jerry

A New Tradition

This time of the year, with Halloween behind us, we look forward to…Black Friday. Yes, Black Friday. We have barely finished remembering the saints until we’re busy searching the flyers for the bargains we must have as we shop for Christmas.

I understand the phenomenon, though personally I never, ever shop on or near Black Friday. I made myself a pledge long ago to celebrate one holiday at a time. That means with most of the Halloween candy eaten or handed out, I’m turning my mind to…yes, really…Thanksgiving.

I wrote recently how the meaning and purpose of All Hallows’ Eve had been taken over with witches and goblins—a pagan focus. As a country on the whole, we rarely give a moment to the actual meaning. I’m thankful for a Church that believes liturgy, ritual and tradition are important because we at least set aside a worship service to remember, even if briefly.

Thanksgiving may be the second least properly celebrated holiday on our calendar. As Thanksgiving approaches, we join in a frenzy of menu planning, Christmas shopping, gathering dead pine cones and leaves for decorating and…most important for many…the Big Games. Yes, many will over eat, over drink, and then plop down in front of a TV to watch football. Few will actually attend a worship service that day. I’m really not opposed to any of this. IF. There is a big IF. Since most expressions of thankfulness will be contained in a very short prayer over an abundant table, I think that’s not enough.

So, here’s why I’m writing about it early. I’d like you and your family to each pledge to begin today to list two things or people for whom you’re truly thankful and do that every day from now until Thanksgiving day. When the family gathers at the table, whether it’s only you, only you two, or a houseful, ask each person to read two or three things from their list. It won’t take long and the real purpose isn’t about sharing the items on the list anyway. The real purpose is about stopping to think about the many blessings all of us have. Yes. Even those ravaged by Sandy. Yes. Even those who will be eating donated turkey. We all have things for which to be thankful, if we’ll only stop and think.

BTW, the name Black Friday derives from retailers’ assertion that sales on and around this day, pull them out of the red ink of deficit, into the black ink of profit.  Something for which they can thank us.

Peace, Jerry

Sandy and Grace

Hurricane Sandy. I can’t even imagine the pain of those who lost some or all of their possessions, to say nothing of the loss of those they loved. Each night Brian Williams takes me to another scene of devastation and I flash on “what if that were our home—what if that were our city?” I can’t conjure an image.

Stories of loss are a part of the news cycle, but there are also stories of good people acting in good ways. A company that most days is pumping water from flooded customers basements after a water heater has leaked showed up. For days they have been going house to house to pump water from Sandy out into the streets to try to help people begin to recover. For free. For free.

Athletes who hoped to run in the marathon could have acted pretty ugly when it was cancelled on Friday—after they were already in town. The stories I’ve heard though are those of people who understand how Sandy became the priority. Disappointed? Sure. Griping and complaining? No. Or how about those athletes who volunteered to walk up twenty or thirty flights of stairs to take blankets and water to people trapped in their apartments with no power, no heat and no running water? Said one, “We thought we were in pretty good shape so let us to the climbing.”

These haven’t been isolated stories either. This kind of behavior has been commonplace, if not the norm. While I get “pitching in” or “we’re all in this together” kind of thinking, these acts of grace seem to be fueled by a different sort of attitude. I could be wrong, but I’ve sensed, “When you do this to the least of these, you have done it to me.” I’ve sensed, “Do for others what you would wish for yourself.”

I very much want to believe that many of these stories were of women and men who are motivated by their Christian faith. I want this to be a glimmer of light in an election season that has been extraordinarily rancorous. I want this to be a beacon in a world that reeks of an entitlement mentality. I want this to be a triumph of love. I want these stories to be a message to all who have ears to hear.

Peace, Jerry