More Thoughts on Trust and Obedience

Roger Dooley, president of Dooley Direct, LLC. has an interesting on the psychology and biochemistry of trust. The post I think bears directly on our conversation here on the role of obedience in confession and spiritual direction. While not always immediately applicable, his blog, which combines "knowledge of emerging phenomena like neuromarketing and social networking with decades of hands-on marketing experience" brings an helpful perspective to pastoral work.

Dooley asks, "Want your customers to trust you?" Well, if you do, "Demonstrate that you trust THEM!" While the immediate concern in the post is with marketing, it is based on sound science and so, I think anyway, it is applicable to pastoral life as well.

As I argued earlier, obedience is the fruit of trust. If this is the case, then (as Dooley work argues) clergy can foster a healthy and appropriate form of obedience in a parish context by our willingness to first demonstrate that we trust our parishioners to be responsible for their own spiritual formation and direction.

I was first introduced to the idea of spiritual self-direction in the writing of the late Fr Adrian van Kaam. In one of his earlier works, Dynamics of Spiritual Self Direction, van Kaam argues that necessarily all spiritual direction must embrace an element of spiritual self-direction. Like it or not, I cannot live a spiritual life for someone else nor can they live it for me. I can pray for you certainly. But I cannot pray for you in the sense of praying in place of you praying.

Practically this means that if I hope to offer any direction to someone, I have to trust them to make their own decisions, to live their own life. And so again, if I want you to trust me, I have to first demonstrate by my words and deeds that I trust you.

"This may seem counterintuitive," Dooley argues, "but there's sound neuromarketing reasoning behind it." His argument is based in what he characterizes as the function of the "seemingly magical neurochemical, oxytocin, which is a key factor in forming trust relationships." Dooley quotes the work of "Paul J. Zak, director of the Center for Neuroeconomics Studies at Claremont Graduate University and unofficial oxytocin evangelist."

As a young man, Zak "was the victim of a small-scale swindle. He now concludes that a key factor in getting him to fall for the con was that the swindler demonstrated that he trusted Zak." He quotes Zak that

The key to a con is not that you trust the conman, but that he shows he trusts you. Conmen ply their trade by appearing fragile or needing help, by seeming vulnerable… the human brain makes us feel good when we help others–this is the basis for attachment to family and friends and cooperation with strangers. "I need your help" is a potent stimulus for action. [From The Moral Molecule - How to Run a Con.]

According to Zak the biochemical basis of trust is found in what he calls "THOMAS - The Human Oxytocin Mediated Attachment System." He continues:

THOMAS' effects are modulated by our large prefrontal cortex that houses the "executive" regions of the brain. THOMAS is all emotion, while the prefrontal cortex is deliberative… THOMAS causes us to empathize with others, the key to building social relationships.

Sales (Dooley's concern) and pastoral care (our concern here) are "NOT a con game" and any salesperson (and spiritual director or priest for that matter), "who treats it as one is unlikely to be successful for very long." It might sound unimaginable, not to say offensive, to suggest that any spiritual director or priest might see his or her work as a con game, it is not unheard of that some do betray the trust put in them by spiritual children and parishioners. (The literature on clerical misconduct refers to the misconduct on a great sin against the trust people place in them. But I leave this for any other time.) In both sales and pastoral care "building trust IS an essential part of the . . . process, and anything that we can do to foster that will pay dividends" in whether or concern is financial or spiritual.

So how can we build trust?

Based on Zak's work, Dooley suggest that we can do this first and foremost by "behaving in a transparent and trustworthy manner." From the point of view of developmental psychology, a child develops a sense of trust in their parents through the parent's consistent, demonstrated willingness and ability to meet the child's physical and emotional needs. And so, we can say that a key to behaving in a trustworthy manner is consistency in manner and expectations for those who are entrusted to our care. In many parishes, to take only one example, Liturgy more often than not does not start on time. Or, and more significantly, in some communities there might be clearly different expectations for different groups in the parish. For example, "converts" are expected to fast and come to confession, but the vast majority of the parish who were baptized as infants are not.

Ironically, the problem with holding one group in the parish to relatively minimal standards is not simply that it divides the parish into factions, but that the priest does not extend that liberality to all. Liberality, it is important to stress, is not an end in itself. Part of fostering trust is not only leaving people free, but doing so intentionally and with a clearly and publicly articulated explanation of what is being done and that this is being done because the priest trusts his parishioners to direct their own spiritual lives.

A conversation about the role of trust in spiritual direction and confession is also a conversation about leadership. While I will have to leave a fuller discussion for another day, effective leadership emerges out of a sense of vocation (personal & communal). At a minimum, vocation or calling is the idea that my life is part of a larger story that is told primarily--though not exclusively--by God. Viewed vocationally, the story of my life, embraces not only me, but you, the whole human family and all creation.

In order to foster trust between us, I must trust you and to do this means that I must come to see that this larger story isn't simply something of which I am a part, like a character in a story. Yes, I find myself, my vocation, in this larger story (again, like a character in a novel) BUT I also find this larger story being told in the small details of my own life. In other words, trust requires that I am come to see myself both a character in the story, and the story itself.

So much of the violence that we see in human life, and in the life of the Church, is I think because we live lives absence a sense of our own vocation--absent any tangible sense of a call that orders my life (both from outside AND within), what else can I do but impose what is inside me on what is outside of me?

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

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Religious Freedom Day, 2009

Religious Freedom Day, 2009
A Proclamation by the President of the United States of America

Religious freedom is the foundation of a healthy and hopeful society. On Religious Freedom Day, we recognize the importance of the 1786 passage of the Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom. We also celebrate the first liberties enshrined in our Constitution's Bill of Rights, which guarantee the free exercise of religion for all Americans and prohibit an establishment of religion.

Our Nation was founded by people seeking haven from religious persecution, and the religious liberty they found here remains one of this land's greatest blessings. As Americans, we believe that all people have inherent dignity and worth. Though we may profess different creeds and worship in different manners and places, we respect each other's humanity and expression of faith. People with diverse views can practice their faiths here while living together in peace and harmony, carrying on our Nation's noble tradition of religious freedom.

The United States also stands with religious dissidents and believers from around the globe who practice their faith peacefully. Freedom is not a grant of government or a right for Americans alone; it is the birthright of every man, woman, and child throughout the world. No human freedom is more fundamental than the right to worship in accordance with one's conscience.

Religious Freedom Day is an opportunity to celebrate our legacy of religious liberty, foster a culture of tolerance and peace, and renew commitments to ensure that every person on Earth can enjoy these basic human rights.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, GEORGE W. BUSH, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim January 16, 2009, as Religious Freedom Day. I call on all Americans to reflect on the great blessing of religious liberty, endeavor to preserve this freedom for future generations, and commemorate this day with appropriate events and activities.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this thirteenth day of January, in the year of our Lord two thousand nine, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-third.

GEORGE W. BUSH

Superior Scribbler Award

Byzantine Texas awarded me a Superior Scribbler Award. I am in turn obliged to pick five bloggers of my own list those worthy of the Superior Scribbler Award. These most now abide by the following rules:

• Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass the award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
• Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author and the name of the blog from whom he/she has received the Award.
• Each Superior Scribbler must display the award on his/her blog, and link to this post, which explains the award.
• Each Blogger who wins the Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List (scroll down). That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives this prestigious honor!
• Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

And now my five Superior Scribblers!

1. A Vow of Conversation
2. Fr. Ted's Blog
3. Way of the Fathers
4. Ochlophobist
5. Orrologion

A Teaching on Economic Asceticism from SNL

For consideration:



In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

More thoughts on Spiritual Direction & Confession: Trust & Obedience

My original post went up at 5.00 am and, well, needed a good proofreading and edit (I pray well enough in the early morning, but I'm not much of an editor at the best of times!).

My apologizes for any lack of clarity. The revised text starts after my signature.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Obedience in a monastic setting presupposes a shared life characterized not only by mutual respect and trust but also a willingness to share in the consequences of any and all decisions made. When the abbot or an elder in the monastery gives an obedience to a novice, he share with the monk the consequences of both the monk’s success and failure. If the meal is poorly prepared, for example, it isn’t simply the novice is suffers a bad dinner but the abbot and the whole community as well. As a friend of mine puts it, the elder has "skin in the game.” Or to use more formal language, obedience in a monastic setting reflects the in investment of both the elder and the novice in the outcome of any direction that's given.

Unfortunately many Orthodox Christians do not understand what I would call the human or lived context of monastic obedience. Many have a very abstract and mechanistic understanding of obedience. Frequently, to illustrate my point, I hear of a parish priest giving an obedience to a parishioner. My objection to this is not with the concept of obedience per se, but that the priest does not, and cannot, share tangibly in the consequences of the parishioner’s potential failure. Because he is largely insulated from the consequences of his advice, a priest (whether married or monastic) is not in a position to require obedience from a parishioner the way an elder can in a monastery. Absent this personal share in the other’s failure, the application of a monastic understanding of obedience is simply inappropriate; at a minimum it is immature and fanciful, at its worse, it is abusive and a gateway to all manner of pastoral misconduct.

Whatever might be its other strengths, parish life is not a shared life in the sense that life is shared in the monastic community. This difference is of critical importance, because there can be, or so I would argue, no real obedience apart from a shared life. Put another way, obedience is the fruit of a life of mutual trust and respect, and requires from the one who asks for obedience a shared acceptance of the immediate and long term consequences of directives that are given.

Let me put that a slightly different way.

Obedience is only possible to the degree that there is trust born of real interdependence. Absent this interdependence, absence this mutual dependence of one upon the other, there can be no real obedience.

So now, what does this have to do with confession and spiritual direction?

However a valuable to the spiritual life, obedience is not sui generis. Rather it presupposes a very particular set of social circumstances that are not (and cannot be) fully present in a parish setting. Monastic obedience is the fruit of a life of shared respect and trust in which all parties see themselves as responsible to, and for, each other and share practically in the consequences of decisions.

As a said a moment ago, I often hear of priests, and sometimes parishioners, trying to duplicate monastic obedience in a parochial setting. But doing this (or so it seems to me) is wrongheaded. The reason, and again as I said above, is that we do not share the direct consequences for each other's behavior in the parish in the way in which monastics do in a monastery. When, for example, an abbot gives an obedience to a monk participate in all the liturgical services to be celebrated on a given day at the monastery, he does so with the awareness that it is not possible for the monk to do manual labor for those hours that he is in church. But the work still needs to be done and so a brother who prays eight hours a day in church needs to be replaced by a monk who is able to work of some or all of those eight hours. If this exchange is not made, then the work remains undone and all suffer the consequences.

This is admittedly a crude example but I think it makes the point. In a parish setting or with non-monastic spiritual children, the spiritual father (whether a monastic or parish priest) does not have this kind of an investment in the person to whom he is ministering that an abbot has with a monk of his monastery. Nor, for that matter, does the penitent have that kind of investment in the priest that a novice has in his abbot or elder. And maybe most important of all, the members of parish do not have the kind of investment in the priest (or each other), that the monks in a monastery have one in their abort or one another.

Simply put, in the parish, we all go home, but for the monk the monastery is his home. If life gets too hard for us in a particular parish, or we don’t get along with our parish priest, we can (usually anyway) go to another parish without suffering nearly the dislocation that a monk would in transferring to another monastery.

In my own pastoral praxis, I ask not for obedience but deference, which is to say, I ask simply to be given the benefit of the doubt in the absence of evidence to the contrary. Of necessity this means that I must accept that my decisions, my guidance, my suggestions, are all open to criticism, disagreement, revision, and yes even rejection. More importantly though, none of this is (necessarily) the result of bad will on the part of those involved in the conversation; disagreement is not disobedience.

Does this mean that we do away with obedience in an absolute sense? No of course not. What it does mean, however, is that we need to understand that there are limits to obedience. The limit to obedience is our mutual investment, in our ability and willingness to bear the consequences of our own decisions and the decisions of others.

Obedience can never be asked for, much less demanded. Like trust, of which it is the fruit, obedience can only be itself when it is freely offered and freely received. In one sense, obedience is trust in work clothes—obedience is the less glamorous, more practical, side of trust (and for that matter, respect and love). If as a confessor or spiritual father, I lose sight of the priority of trust, mutual respect and love, I undermine my ministry regardless of the theological orthodoxy of my counsel.

In the Creed, we profess faith in the “One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.” We often, and rightly, think of the Church in institutional terms, as something objective and in a sense external to ourselves. But this is only half the mystery. I am also a part of the Church, and the Church a part of me. I cannot therefore have faith in the institutional aspect of the Church unless, or so it seems to me, I understand that faith in the Church also includes a faith or trust in the members of the Church who are first and foremost my brothers and sisters in Christ. Faith in the Church is a matter of trust in bishops and clergy; it is also a matter of my having trust in my brothers and sisters in Christ and a relative trust in myself. These three elements are not opposed to each other, rather they presuppose and reinforce each other. I would suggest that the ministries of confession and spiritual direction, and in fact in all the Church’s ministries, that we work by God’s grace and our own efforts are in the service fostering this expansive view of trust in self and others.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Site News

I am experimenting with a new comment recording system. From the homepage, you can leave comments have you ordinarily do by clicking on "comment" at the bottom of the post. Alternatively, if you click on the post title itself, you will open the post a new screen with the new comment box at the bottom of the post.

This new comment box does not require registration. It does, however, allow the readers to express whether or not they agree with what others have said. I rather like this feature because it allows the readers to regulate the content of the comments. In most studies of online communication, this self-regulating feature typically fosters more communication and a decrease in the infamous tendency of online conversations to degenerate into flame wars. While flame ware are not a problem here right now, but readership is growing on a regular basis (we are currently some 200 strong when I factor in rss feeds, email subscriptions and regular readers who surf in).

So, try out if you would the new comment system and let me know either in the comment box of by email what you think.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

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Memory Eternal: Richard John Neuhaus, 1936-2009

From First Things: Fr. Richard John Neuhaus slipped away today, January 8, shortly before 10 o’clock, at the age of seventy-two. He never recovered from the weakness that sent him to the hospital the day after Christmas, caused by a series of side effects from the cancer he was suffering. He lost consciousness Tuesday evening after a collapse in his heart rate, and the next day, in the company of friends, he died.

My tears are not for him—for he knew, all his life, that his Redeemer lives, and he has now been gathered by the Lord in whom he trusted.

I weep, rather for all the rest of us. As a priest, as a writer, as a public leader in so many struggles, and as a friend, no one can take his place. The fabric of life has been torn by his death, and it will not be repaired, for those of us who knew him, until that time when everything is mended and all our tears are wiped away.

Funeral arrangements are still being planned; information about the funeral will be made public shortly. Please accept our thanks for all your prayers and good wishes.

In Deepest Sorrow,

Joseph Bottum
Editor
First Things

On Fr. Richard John Neuhaus- Kathryn Jean Lopez - The Corner on National Review Online

From National Review Online:

His friends and family are keeping vigil and he was administered last rites shortly after midnight. Fr. George Rutler, who gave him the Catholic Sacrament, says that “he is not expected to live long” and suggests “that it is appropriate that prayers be offered for a holy death.”

Fr. Neuhaus has come close to this moment before and been back. If it’s his time: Go in peace. He\'s a man who has loved and served His Lord. When he leaves this world, his vast intellectual and spiritual body of work will have a long life here.

Speaking of his archives: Fr. Neuhaus might agree with his brother priest on the appropriate prayer for him. Fr. Neuhaus might say, if he could right now, what he\'s already written:

We are born to die. Not that death is the purpose of our being born, but we are born toward death, and in each of our lives the work of dying is already underway. The work of dying well is, in largest part, the work of living well. Most of us are at ease in discussing what makes for a good life, but we typically become tongue-tied and nervous when the discussion turns to a good death. As children of a culture radically, even religiously, devoted to youth and health, many find it incomprehensible, indeed offensive, that the word \"good\" should in any way be associated with death. Death, it is thought, is an unmitigated evil, the very antithesis of all that is good.

Death is to be warded off by exercise, by healthy habits, by medical advances. What cannot be halted can be delayed, and what cannot forever be delayed can be denied. But all our progress and all our protest notwithstanding, the mortality rate holds steady at 100 percent.

Death is the most everyday of everyday things. It is not simply that thousands of people die every day, that thousands will die this day, although that too is true. Death is the warp and woof of existence in the ordinary, the quotidian, the way things are. It is the horizon against which we get up in the morning and go to bed at night, and the next morning we awake to find the horizon has drawn closer. From the twelfth-century Enchiridion Leonis comes the nighttime prayer of children of all ages: \"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray thee Lord my soul to keep; if I should die before I wake, I pray thee Lord my soul to take.\" Every going to sleep is a little death, a rehearsal for the real thing.

Some Thoughts on Spiritual Direction & Holy Confession

One of the regular commentators on this blog, Sr. Macrina, in response to my earlier posts on confession asks a number of very interesting questions about the relationship between spiritual direction and Holy Confession:

If you have time, could you say something about the relationship (both in Orthodoxy generally and in how you see it) between spiritual fatherhood / motherhood / direction that is not necessarily an ordained role, and confession.

Related to this, do you have any comments on the differences between spiritual fatherhood in an Orthodox (and also earlier western) context and contemporary western approaches to spiritual direction?

In this blog post, I would like to respond to the first of Sister's to questions, the relationship between spiritual fatherhood and confession. Later, I would like to respond more specifically to the question of spiritual fatherhood and spiritual motherhood in relation to confession. This second question, as well as the whole notion of lay spiritual directors, I think raises a number of very interesting pastoral issues especially as they pertain to the unique vocation of men and women in Christ. A comparison between spiritual fatherhood in an Orthodox context and contemporary western approaches to spiritual direction, will have to wait for another time.

First let me try and clarify the human foundations of confession as a moment of spiritual direction. In this I will focus primarily on what seems to me to be the importance of priest and penitent having some degree shared life that transcends a mere mutual affirmation of the tradition of the Church. Subsequent to this analysis, I want to look at spiritual direction as a lay ministry within the church. But first let's look at confession.

What I often hear from Orthodox laypeople when we talk about confession is that sometimes they'll be told by the priest in confession that confession is not spiritual direction. The sacrament of confession there told is the time when you repent of your sins. If you want spiritual direction, if they want to know who to live their life in Christ, they're told to come back at another time.

Given the many demands that are often made of the parish priest this is not wholly an unreasonable response. Having in the week before Christmas, just to take one example from my own experience, I heard some 20 confessions, I can certainly sympathize with a priest not having the energy, much less time, that spiritual direction requires.

That said however I think it would be good for us to try to understand historically the relationship between what we now call spiritual direction and the sacrament of confession. Since this is a blog post I'm going to need to ask the readers indulgence as I make some rather broad exegetical and historical leaps. Insofar as I'm able to do so I tried to keep my posts under a 1,000mwords. While it helpful discipline for me as a writer, it does not leave me a great deal of time to indulge in exegetical and historical analysis.

Historically, the sacrament confession as we have it today developed out of the monastic practice of the novice on a daily basis revealing his thoughts to his abbot or spiritual elder. As more and more it became the custom of the church to ordained monastics to the episcopate, this monastic practice of confession of thoughts was integrated into the pastoral life of the Church. In other words, personal spiritual direction grounded in a trusting relationship between a spiritual father and his spiritual child, is the context out of which the contemporary practice of confession develops.

One of the things that strikes me as interesting about the relationship between spiritual father and spiritual child in a monastic setting is that the participants shared a common life. By this I mean they shared a regular life of not only of communal prayer and fasting, but manual labor a common table and dependence on one and other for their daily lives. Their relationship in other words was not purely formal but rather we might say domestic. This life of everyday intimacy demanded from the participants a fairly high degree of trust. Yes certainly the novice was dependent upon the elder for spiritual guidance and instruction and so had to trust him.

But the elder was also in a way dependent upon the novice. What I mean by this is nothing particularly extraordinary, nothing that anyone in a family doesn't know already. Food must be prepared, chores must be done, and then there are all the hundreds of ordinary activity that makes up a common life, all of this is a tangible expression of how elder and novice depend one on the other.. And so again, their life was a shared life.

Remember, the model for Orthodox monasticism (and the Catholic monasticism as well for that matter) is the family. Much as in a family, so to in a monastery, a new child changes everything.

Thinking about this relationship of mutual dependence let us turn our attention now to the sacrament of confession.

We tend to think of the sacrament of confession is being more or less unidirectional with regard to self revelation. The penitent comes to the priest and tells the priests his sins and the priest, for his part, is assumed to not be self revelatory.

But is this really the case?

As I said in an earlier post with regard to what it means to hear confessions, the confessor's interaction with the penitent comes out of his own spiritual experience. St. Nicodemus is really very clear about this in his manual of confession. To recap what I said in an earlier post, the saint argues that the confessor cannot heal a sin that he himself has not been healed. Or, to use a more popular American expression, you can't give what you don't got.

This means that as the penitent is revealing himself to the confessor, the confessor is revealing himself to the penitent. Granted the self revelation of the confessor is not the primary point of confession but the fact remains that this is not primary does not mean that the self revelation is absent. And now back briefly to the situation in the monastery.

A common life, a shared life, is only possible with mutual respect and trust. It is out of this shared life of mutual respect and trust that the sacrament of confession grows. And it is the absence of this shared life of mutual respect and trust grounded in holy tradition and a personal encounter, that undermines confession as an event of spiritual direction or formation.

I will in my next post, speak more about the relationship of mutual trust and respect between priest and penitent.

In Christ,

+ Father Gregory

Happy New Year 2009!

Fireworks at the Point in Pittsburgh, PA

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old times since ?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely you'll buy your pint cup !
And surely I'll buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine ;
But we've wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine† ;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there's a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o' thine !
And we'll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

To hear Auld Lang Syne:

09 Auld Lang Syne.mp3 - Auld Lang Syne

It Is Your Confession, But It Is My Sin—Part II

Taking the saints advice to heart, and thinking about my own earlier work as a therapist, I think it is when he is confronted with "new" sins (or at least sins new to him), that the character, natural talents and spiritual gifts of the confessor are put to the test. It is because of moments such as these that, I at least, have come to appreciate more and more the sacrifice made by soldiers who train for, and participate in, combat.

The soldier trains for war; he learns how to kill his neighbor efficiently. And he learns his art (ideally at least) with a fairly high degree of dispassion and self-possession, that is he learns to fight and kill without anger because he has fostered in himself the virtue of courage.

All this the soldier does not as an end in itself but on behalf of others, his nation, his family and friends, and for those who he will never met and who will in some cases even resent his sacrifice.

The warrior's sacrifice's his life for his nation. Even if he never goes to war, but certainly if he does, he comes to see himself in new ways, as one able and willing to kill. This carries with it a great, almost unimaginable, moral risk. And it is bearing this moral risk that is the heart of his sacrifice.

As with the warrior trained for battle, likewise with the confessor.

When he encounters in others sins that are unknown to him he most find in himself some understanding, some point of convergence between himself, his own struggles and failures, and the life, struggles and failures of the penitent. And he must do this without himself succumbing to the sin that he has newly come to see as a possibility for him. The attentive, self-aware confessor, like the warrior, is only able to do the task set before him by imagining a horror as a possibility for him.

And again, like the warrior, the confessor in each and every confession must proceed in a dispassionate and courageous fashion to face a temptation that he may never before have imagined as possible.

Speaking to the spiritual father, St Nicodemus summarizes the matter in this way:

Next, you must respond to many dangerous subjects in confession. You will hear so many shameful sins of people and so many disgraces and pollutions on account of their passions. Therefore it is necessary that you are either like an impasible sun, which when passing through filthy places remains unspotted, or like that pure dove of Noah, which when passing over so many grimy bodies of those drowned from the flood did not perch upon any of them, or like a silver or gold wash basin, which washes and cleans the dirtiness of others while none of the dirt sticks to it. (Exomologetarion, p. 74)

It is here that the importance of the confessor's own spiritual life, his own life of daily prayer and frequent communion. And it is here that we begin to see the importance of the confessor's willingness to go and prostrate himself as penitent to the very place where, only a moment before, he stood as a witness to God's mercy.

I tell my own spiritual children and parishioners, that the work of confession—like the work of marriage—is first and foremost a personal encounter. To use the language of the old Latin manuals in sacramental theology, the trust between confessor and penitent is the matter of the sacrament of confession. While trust, to be trust, must be mutual, the weight of that trust is bore by the confessor. It is his obligation not simply to root out sin in his own life, but (having entrusted himself first and foremost to Christ our True God), travel in empathy and compassion with the penitent to those areas of the penitent's life where sin and shame have a hold.

The ascetical struggle of the confessor is, however, not simply to see the depths of human shame—this after all is hardly something unknown to the secular therapist. No the confessor's task, his calling and that which is the teleos of his own ascetical struggles is to point out that it is there, in the darkest place of the penitent's life, that the redeeming, forgiving, and healing Light of Christ is to be found.

The confessor, St John of Krondstat reminds me, is a witness to divine mercy. This requires, as I said above, not only that the confessor root out his own sin but that he recognize that no sin is alien to him since all sin is but itself only a symptom of our common and personal estrangement from God. It is the reality this common estrangement in his own life that the confessor must confront and struggle against again and again each time he hears confession. And it is only in this way, to return to St Nicodemus' advice, that he can hope to heal the penitent's sin.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

It Is Your Confession, But It Is My Sin—Part I

As I promised, here is the last installment of my series on Holy Confession. In this section I want to reflect with you on the challenges of the sacrament of confession for the confessor. The more I confessions I've heard, the more I have come to appreciate how each confession is not only about the penitent's sin but also my own.

This all became clear for me when I sat down to read the Exomologetarion: A Manual of Confession, St Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain. Toward the beginning of the work the saint has an interesting observation about why a confessor is unable to heal a particular sin. Whether he is too gentle or too harsh, to willing to excuse or to too hold someone accountable, the reason is the same: the confessor has not himself repented of the sin being confessed. Or, as the saint himself says to the spiritual father you

must have the passions healed and conquered, because if you unjustly seek to heal the passions of others before you have healed your own passions, you will hear the words, "Physician, heal thyself" (Lk 4.23), and: "A physician of others, himself full of sores," the reason being, if you truly wish to be an enlightener and perfector of others, you must first be enlightened and perfected yourself, so as to be able to also enlighten and perfect others. In short, you must first have and then afterwards give to others. (p. 73)

Let me say first off, I don't think that the Exomologetarion is a particularly helpful book for lay people looking for spiritual reading. While some of what St Nicodemus has to say, especially his anthropological observations about the inner life, is certainly useful, the text itself is meant more priest confessors and not a lay audience.

That said, as I have thought about St Nicodemus' advice, I see the wisdom of what he says. Certainly I see its importance in my own ministry hearing confessions: I am powerless as a confessor when I am confronted with sin in your life that I have not rooted out in my own heart. At a minimum, I must at least be struggling against the sin the penitent confesses if I am to be of any value. This is not to deny the grace of the sacrament. But the reality is—and again St Nicodemus makes this point—I can undermine your repentance by the lack of my own struggle against the very sin you confess.

What Nicodemus tells me is of unquestionable value not only for my work as a confessor, but also as a preacher and a therapist. Too often, in the case of preachers, a priest or minister will preach about which he has no personal experience. Worse still, it is not uncommon to hear a man preach against a sin that he has neither rooted out from his own heart or is even struggling against. When this happens, the best that can happen is that the sermon falls flat and fails to touch anyone. At worst the preacher uses the truth of the Gospel like a whip and his words wound without healing the hearts of his listeners.

In a counseling relationship as well Nicodemus offers us some insight. The antipsychiatric writer Thomas Szasz argues in his work that diagnostic terminology often serves to marginalize the patient. Taken to the all too common extreme, diagnostic categories facilitate my dehumanizing the patient and allow me to imagine that we do not share a common humanity, a common struggle for happiness.

As I said, there is no question that Nicodemus offers the confessor rich insight into the kind of spiritual life and ascetical struggle that is essential to his ministry as a confessor. But his work leaves me with a problem: What about those sins which I have not committed or toward which I am not attracted?

Unlike St Nicodemus I, as with many Orthodox and Catholic priests especially here in the States, are often called upon to serve communities that are highly diverse. We typically don't have the degree of cultural, social and linguistic homogeneity that Nicodemus seems to take for granted both for himself and his readers. Without going into the details, even coming to the priesthood with some professional experience in community mental health, I have some times heard, how shall I put this discretely, "new information."

The problem then is this: Yes, I know I can only heal sins that I have rooted out or at least am actively struggling against. But what about those sins that are alien to the confessor, what is he, what do I, do with then?

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

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The Crowds, Disciples and Apostles

Image via Wikipedia

While I have a quiet moment, and it is quiet that won't last I fear, I can finally put the last of my retreat notes online for consideration. In my last session I looked with people at the typology of parish membership.


In Christ,


+Fr Gregory


Fr. Ted Bobosh, the priest of St. Paul the Apostle Church (OCA) in Dayton, OH, has a very helpful way of thinking about the parish. In a blog post, "Seeking Christ: The Parish as Crowd," he begins by observing that:

Every parish gathering is a time for people to come to be near Christ. As in the Gospels, people came to Christ for all kinds of reasons - some to hear Him, some to see Him, some to oppose Him, some to touch Him, some to be healed, some to be fed, some to trap Him or trick Him, some to be His disciples, some out of curiosity, and some out of animosity, some in hope, some in despair, some to debate Him, some to stop Him, some to be comforted by Him, some to learn from Him, some to be praised by Him, some just to touch the hem of His garment and some to be glorified by Him. Whatever the reason, they came and crowded around Christ - friend, foe, follower. And He allowed it. He didn't chase away the curious or the hostile, the needy or the greedy, the hungry or those full of themselves. And just as the bishop notes in Leskov's novel On the Edge of the World, some really do just want to touch the hem of His garment and not become His disciples or his ambassadors. He welcomes them all blessing some, bantering with others, shepherding and being lamb, teacher and foil, giver of light and lightening rod.

As I have thought about this, and especially as I have thought about this in light of our conversations here, I have come to see the value of Fr Ted's observation.


During His earthly ministry, the vast majority of the human community was unaware of the events happening in Israel. Of those who may have had some awareness, most were indifferent. Of those who weren't indifferent, some were hostile, some were believers, but the vast majority were somewhere in the middle.


And even among those who were followers of Jesus Christ, there were two different groups: disciples and apostles—an outer circle and inner circle of believers. We can draw from the Gospel a typology of the Church that lets us see three concentric circles of believers: the crowd (who are the vast majority), the disciples (who were once part of the crowd but now have drawn closer to Jesus Christ as students who form their lives around Him and His teaching) and the apostles (those disciples who have said yes to a personal call to be ambassadors of Christ).


But again, we need to keep in mind that at any given moment, the majority of parishioners are going to be members of the crowd. These men and women are not—at least not yet—disciples, much less apostles, of Christ. This does not preclude them from the life of the Church, from her liturgical life or the sacraments.

As with the crowds who surround Jesus in the Gospels, they have their own motivation for coming Liturgy on Sunday, for receiving Holy Communion, baptizing their children, for having their marriages blessed, and it is important that we not put any obstacles in their way. The temptation of disciples and apostles is to send the crowds away, to leave them to their own devise, and to refuse to feed them from the bounty they have received from Christ. When they do this, when they drive away the crowds (whether passively or actively, by word or deed), the disciples and apostles fail in their own obligation.


This then raises a question: What is the obligation of the disciples and apostles to the crowd?


The task, the vocation of disciples and apostles, relative to the crowd is to invite the men and women in the crowd to become themselves disciples. This is hard work and work that is often met with frustration. But it is essential that those who are disciples and apostles within the Church understand that they are no more or less members of the Body of Christ then are those who are in the crowd. And just as those in all three groups are equally members of the Body of Christ, so to they are members of one another and they need one and other.


Events such as this one, retreats, workshops, pilgrimages, visits to monastic communities, adult education classes, preaching that has as its goal the spiritual formation of those who listen, all of these things need to be supported in the parish by those who are disciples and apostles. And they must encourage—and even make possible—the participation of those who are members of the crowd in these and other events that have as their goal awakening people to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.


Where we usually go wrong in the parish, is in one of two ways. First, and this is more the shortcoming of converts and communities in which converts are prominent, we want to exclude the men and women who are in the crowd. When I was first ordained, I did damage I think to people because I wanted a parish of all disciples and apostles. While this might seem a noble goal I wanted to be more successful than Jesus.


The second mistake that we often make is that we fail to distinguish the different groups within the parish. At the risk of being offensive, we cannot entrust leadership positions in the parish or the diocese, to the crowds. Discipleship is the prerequisite for any leadership position in the Church. Members of the crowd are certainly member of the Body of Christ, but they can't serve as parish or diocesan council members or church school teachers. Those who are not disciples, can't undertake the apostolic works of outreach and evangelism. And they cannot be seminarians and they certainly can't be ordained into the clergy.


Unfortunately, this is often what does happen. We are often so concerned to get volunteers, that we entrust leadership roles to those who are themselves not disciples of Christ. Doing this is it any wonder that we have some of the problems we have in the Church?


Let me conclude by encouraging you to take seriously the necessity of a personal commitment to Christ. And let me encourage you, no, better yet, let me beg you, to support your priest in his limiting leadership roles in the parish to those who have demonstrated by the integrity of their lives, their commitment to the sacramental and liturgical life of the Church, their stewardship of time, talent and treasure and their life of philanthropic involvement to others (whether inside and outside the Church), their commitment to Christ.


Leadership in the Church cannot be simply a matter of functional skills, much less a popularity contest or a frantic attempt to fill slots. Christian leadership is the fruit of a personal commitment not only to Christ and His Church, but also to the poor and all those who the world deems marginal and even useless.

I often hear from people that their parish is dying. And every time I've heard this, and heard the reasons why this is so, I have also seen possibilities for life and growth that people simply weren't taking. Parishes, I have concluded, don't die. The commit suicide.


The Way of Life for our community, your community, is by embracing all who are members of Christ, not only those who are disciples and apostles, but also those in the crowd. But not only this. We must understand that Christ has called to serve as leaders in the Church only those who are disciples. Having said this, though, we must remember that those who see themselves as disciples, as leaders—whether lay or clergy—must never tire of inviting, encouraging and sustaining those in the crowd to become disciples.


In Christ,


+Fr Gregory


This ends my retreat notes. I hope tomorrow, and to end 2008, to finish my thoughts on Holy Confession.

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Ouch

From Florida Hospital Church:


!

h/t: Bishop Alan Wilson.

What's in Your Bible?

Christ is Born!

Vincent Setterholm of Bible Study Magazine has interesting chart outline the differences in content and organization of Sacred Scripture.  I have reproduced his chart here--do click on it and go to the web page for Bible Study Magazine and let me know what you think.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Merry Christmas! Christ is Born! Glorify Him!

Long time ago in Bethlehem
So the Holy Bible say
Mary's boy child, Jesus Christ
Was born on Christmas day.

Hark, now hear the angels sing
A new King born today
And man will live forever more
Because of Christmas day.

While shepherds watched their flock by night
And see a bright new shining star
And hear a choir sing
The music seem to come from afar.

Now Joseph and his wife Mary
Come to Bethlehem that night
And find no place to borne she child
Not a single room was in sight.

Hark, now hear the angels sing
A new King born today
And man will live forever more
Because of Christmas day.

By and by they find a little nook
In a stable all forlorn
And in a manger cold and dark
Mary's little boy was born.

Hark, now hear the angels sing
A new King born today
And man will live forever more
Because of Christmas day.

Funeral Arrangements for Fr David Sedor

Visitation and services in Pittsburgh, PA:

Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church ( http://www.holytrinitypgh.org/)
Friday, December 26, 2008, 6:00pm-8:00pm visitation; 7:00pm Trisagion

Saturday December 27, 2008, 9:00am Orthros, 10:00am Divine Liturgy, followed
by Funeral Service

Visitation and services in Binghamton, NY:

St. Michael's Orthodox Church in Binghamton, NY (http://www.saintmichaels.info/)
Tuesday, December 30, 3008, 9:00am-10:00am visitation; 10:00am Divine
Liturgy

Memory Eternal!

Memory Eternal: Protopresbyter David Sedor

Fr David Sedor, beloved husband of Eileen and father of Charissa and Stephanie fell asleep in the Lord this morning after a short illness.

In addition to serving as the pastor of Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church in Altoona, PA, Fr Dave was a doctoral student in theology at Duquense University, the chaplain for the Orthodox Christian Fellowship in Pittsburgh and an adjunct professor at SS Cyril & Methodius Byzantine Catholic Seminary in Pittsburgh.

His daughter Stephanie posted the following this afternoon:

As many of you already know, my dad passed away this afternoon after a long week of battling complications from bypass surgery. One of the most beautiful experiences in my life happened this morning as we were saying goodbye - dad happened to be awake for a few minutes and mom said "You need to go with God now", and he nodded his head and closed his eyes. I know that often when families experience a sudden loss, there is a lot of anger toward God and others - but I don't feel anything like that at all. I know that dad is where he belongs, and that he has touched so many lives that his memory will always live with us. On behalf of my entire family, I thank every one of you for the outpouring of love and support through this entire situation; I know it would have been unbearably harder without you.

I will let everyone know when we've made arrangements for visitation and services, which will most likely occur in Pittsburgh, PA this Friday/Saturday, and Binghamton, NY on Monday or Tuesday.

Much love

Please remember Fr David, Eileen, Charissa and Stephanie in your prayers.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Christmas In The Trenches

Christmas in the Trenches
words & music by John McCutcheon

Inspired by a back-stage conversation with an old woman in Birmingham, AL, this song tells a story that is not only true, but well-known throughout Europe. For some of the history behind the 1914 WWI Christmas Truce, click here.

My name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool,
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders to Germany to here
I fought for King and country I love dear.
'Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost so bitter hung,
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung,
Our families back in England were toasting us that day,
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.

I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound
Says I, "Now listen up, me boys!" each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.
"He's singing bloody well, you know!" my partner says to me
Soon one by one each German voice joined in in harmony
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more
As Christmas brought us respite from the war.

As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent
"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" struck up some lads from Kent
The next they sang was "Stille Nacht," "Tis 'Silent Night'," says I
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky.
"There's someone coming towards us!" the front line sentry cried
All sights were fixed on one lone figure coming from their side
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.

Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's land
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell.
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own
Young Sanders played his squeeze box and they had a violin
This curious and unlikely band of men.

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night
"Whose family have I fixed within my sights?"
'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung
For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone for evermore.

My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell
Each Christmas come since World War I I've learned its lessons well
That the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame
And on each end of the rifle we're the same.

©1984 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)

A Site Worth Your Time

Image via WikipediaA site worth looking at: Orthodox Answers.

Why not take a look?

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory