Broken Pilgrim

Spirituality of the Psalms

Yesterday, I read Spirituality of the Psalms by Walter Brueggemann. While I'm pretty sure that we land pretty far apart when it comes to our understanding of inspiration and inerrancy, he still provides some very helpful paradigms to open up an understanding and experience of the Psalms.

Brueggemann insists that this is not the only way to look at the Psalms, but that it does provide a viewpoint that aids in interpretation and in contemporary spirituality and liturgical placement. Essentially, each psalm is placed into one of three categories (although it's not always clear cut … which is fine). They are Psalms of Orientation, Psalms of Disorientation and Psalms of New Orientation.

Psalms of Orientation are those psalms "that express a confident, serene settlement of faith issues." (p. 16. The given world is seen as a good place in the hands of God. Types include Songs of Creation (8, 33, 104, 145), Songs of Torah (1, 15, 19, 24, 119), Wisdom Psalms (14, 37) and Occasions of Well-Being (131,133).

Psalms of Disorientation are those that are "songs of lament, protest, and complaint about the incoherence that is experienced in the world." (p. 26) These psalms generally have a movement from Plea (including an Address to God, Complaint, Petition, Motivations for God to Act and/or Imprecations) to Praise (including Assurance of Being Heard, Payment of Vows and/or Doxology and Praise). Types include Personal Complaint Songs (13, 35, 86) and Communal Complaint Songs (74, 79, 137).

Psalms of New Orientation are those that move beyond the Psalms of Disorientation move from Plea to Praise and provides the theological underpinning for this move. They are "not about the 'natural' outcome of trouble, but about the decisive transformation made possible by this God who causes new life where none seems possible." (p. 49) Types include Personal Thanksgiving Psalms (30, 34, 40, 138), Thanksgiving Songs of the Community (65, 66, 124, 129), The Once and Future King (29, 47, 93, 97, 98, 99, 114) and Hymns of Praise (100, 103, 113, 117, 135, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150).

Embedded and implicit in this paradigm is two movements: 1) from orientation to disorientation and 2) from disorientation to new orientation. Brueggemann suggest that these two change moments, both of which we are inclined to resist, are the places of transformation. In the first movement there is a relinquishment, a dying best shown in Jesus' crucifixion. Out of this struggle comes the lament. In the second movement there is surprising new life and hope, clearly exemplified in the resurrection of Christ. And so we have hymns and songs of thanksgiving.

I'm really drawn to this entire paradigm of three categories and two movements. I think that they capture the idea of being a Broken Pilgrim, but one ultimately with hope. Brokenness is embraced for what it is but it is not the ultimate state. It is part of the journey towards newness in Christ.

Finally, it's interesting that the Church by and large avoids the use of Psalms of Disorientation, the largest of the three categories, whereas the nation of Israel "did not banish or deny the darkness from its religious enterprise. It embraces the darkness as the very stuff of new life. Indeed, Israel seems to know that new life is rooted nowhere else." (p. 29) Brueggemann challenges the Church when he says:

At least it is clear that a church that goes on singing "happy songs" in the face of raw reality is doing something very different from what the Bible itself does. (p. 26)

Ouch.

And Amen.

Pilgrim's Home

The Letter to Diognetus is an anonymous early Christian apologetic work probably dating from the 2nd or 3rd century. I'm fascinated by this description of Christians in this letter:

Christians do not form a separate group marked off from other people by land, language or customs; they do not live in towns of their own or speak a foreign tongue nor follow a special way of life … In their dress and way of living and general outward behavior they conform to native usage.

They take in good part all that comes their way for they are pilgrims … They live on the earth but their city is in heaven.

I believe that these words can be a simple and helpful guide for us (me) today. What marks us as "different" are not those cultural customs that mark our place of being and living, wherever that may be. In fact being "different" in this way may not be helpful in life and faith.

It's that last part of the quote that speaks to me. As a pilgrim, I can accept all that comes my way, good and bad, because I know that my true home, my heart's home, my final home is the city in heaven.

This perspective, one that I believe is received by grace, is absolutely formative and transformative.

If only I truly lived with that perspective 24/7. That's the way to be "different" and THAT'S the way to be an aroma and fragrance of Christ to others around me.

Does my life show that I'm convinced in my soul that this world is not my home?

You know what's coming …

Kyrie eleison

Intriguing

I find it intriguing that my preparation for the program in Christian Spirituality has been marked by and has caused me to live exactly opposite to the values of the program, the values of the reading, the values of anyone seeking to live a life formed into Christ. Need to reconnect from this disconnect.

Gregory of Nyssa

Today, as part of my preparation for my upcoming classes at Fuller, I read The Life of Moses by Gregory of Nyssa (c. 332-395), one of the 3 Greek Cappadocian Fathers. While there is much that is problematic in his approach (I ended up repeatedly saying come on! in response to his hermeneutic) to opening up the narrative of Moses to speak to the spiritual life, I found much that was thought provoking and helpful.

The most intriguing concept was that of "eternal progress." Gregory says this of Moses' life:

Such an experience seems to me to belong to the soul which loves what is beautiful. Hope always draws the soul from the beauty which is seen to what is beyond, always kindles the desire for the hidden through what is constantly perceived. (p. 114)

This truly is the vision of God: never to be satisfied in the desire to see him. But one must always, by looking at what he can see, rekindle his desire to see more. Thus, no limit would interrupt growth in the ascent to God, since no limit to the Good can be found nor is the increasing of desire for the Good brought to an end because it is satisfied. (p. 116)

Pilgrimage indeed.

Pilgrimage

It was in this space, St Cuthbert's Shrine, that my pilgrimage and prayer retreat began in Durham Cathedral. It was in this space that I participated in a beautiful and simple communion service with perhaps a dozen other individuals. It was in this space (to which I returned later while following A Pilgrim's Guide to Durham Cathedral) that an understanding of what God was teaching me on this trip began to finally get through.

I've already related how I had been experiencing unexpected and deep loneliness on this trip. I've also described times of great deep, relational connection. Throughout I've mused on what it means to be engaged in merely simultaneous activity (or parallel play).

So I began to ask … how often do I pass the time between deep relational connections with God in mere simultaneous activity, parallel play with God? How often do I find myself distracted, in my own world, infrequently lifting my eyes and thoughts to Him? God is always ready to fully engage. Why not me?

I suppose that's what Broken Pilgrim continues to be all about. How can I lean more and more into what it means to be "present to the Presence in the present" (as it says in the header above)?

I am so grateful that God is never satisfied with mere simultaneous spiritual activity from me. I'm grateful that He regularly, faithfully and graciously calls me out of my self-absorption. I'm grateful that He is teaching me to hear and respond to that call more quickly and more eagerly as my life pilgrimage continues on. I'm grateful that while I know that I have not arrived, I am always arriving … by His hand and the ongoing wooing of the Holy Spirit.

And so I say with no contradiction, "Lord, have mercy … thanks be to God!"

The Supper at Emmaus

While wandering through the National Gallery in London on Tuesday the 8th, there was one painting that I was particularly looking forward to seeing … Caravaggio's The Supper at Emmaus (1600-1601). Prior to my trip I had read these words from Theodore Rabb (historian) in London: City Secrets:

No visit to London would be complete without a climb up the grand central staircase of the National Gallery, and a brief wander through stately rooms and glass doorways to the heart of the Baroque, and to Caravaggio.

To stand in front of this painting is to enter an ordinary home in Rome around the year 1600. The torn clothes, the simple food, table and chairs bring that very different world to immediate and vivid life. But this is no ordinary home. The drama as the apostles suddenly recognize the resurrected Jesus leaps out of the painting. One spreads his arms wide, almost reaching out of the canvas; the other grips the arms of his chair, about to rise in amazement. As you look, the textures and the colours that Caravaggio has created - the wood, the meat, the cloth, the muted green and brown - gradually bring the scene into recognizable reality. You leave, aware once again, of the possibility of the miraculous amidst everyday life.

Eventually, I too, stood in front of Caravaggio's great work. The longer I stood and gazed, the more it captured me. I ended up sitting down on a nearby bench just to "be" with this painting for a period. And so I soaked in The Supper at Emmaus whilst listening to Holst's Saturn from The Planets.

My heart raced. My eyes welled up. My soul was full. Alleluia, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed!

So why was I so moved? The painting is not even in a style that I particularly like. Yet I was drawn in and found myself reliving that great passage in Luke 24 that concludes in verses 30-32:

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?"

My heart burned and kept burning.

So much so that on my last day in London, Monday the 21st, I returned to the National Gallery … just to sit in front of this great painting one more time. This time I used the end of Stravinsky's Firebird and the last section of Respighi's The Pines of Rome for my soundtrack.

But I had an unexpected bonus this time around. While sitting there and in between pieces on my iPod, a woman came up to the painting who was evidently giving a private instructional tour to two other women. She then proceeded to briefly lecture on the painting … and happily, she did so at a volume that enabled all of us bystanders (there were several) to listen in.

Caravaggio has placed this extraordinary event in an ordinary setting … even as it would have been originally. This is heightened by the attention given to the still life on the table. And when we look at Jesus, we realize with a start that he is not given some otherworldy glow, nor is a halo attached (although the shadow on the wall behind evokes one) like in so many other pieces throughout the National Gallery. Rather, Jesus is real, resurrected flesh and blood.

And too, the disciples are ordinary, quite ordinary in clothes, manner and looks. Notice the ripped clothing of the disciple on the left and the weathered look of the disciple on the right. This painting loudly declares that the resurrected Jesus Christ is for ordinary people. For you. For me.

And see? There's even an empty place at the table just for us. In fact that plate of fruit is placed hanging over the edge of the table specifically to draw us in. (Note the shadow of the fruit which evokes the shape of a fish, a symbol for the early Christians.) Not only does this work declare, but it invites.

If you notice the lighting in the painting, while there is light coming from the implied side window or door, you'll notice something else if you examine all the shadows and pools of light. There is light coming from Jesus' face, too. This is emphasized by Caravaggio's use of shadow and dark in the background, rather than filling it with extravagent detail as in so many other paintings. Jesus Christ. The Light of the World.

Taking time to respond to that invitation was one of the most powerful moments I experienced in my entire time in the UK. Click this link if you would like to spend some time with a larger version on the National Gallery's website.

May our hearts never cease to burn.

Vacationing with God

Over the past few years, I've tried to deliberately turn my vacations into an opportunity for deepening and growing in my spiritual journey. Some vacations more than others, but at least some intentionality when I withdraw from the regular rhythms of life.

Tomorrow, I leave to go spend time in London, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Durham and Paris. A lot of this trip is pure tourist, plain and simple. But I do have some hopes and plans and dreams for being with God on this vacation as well.

• Spending time with good friends, Bruce and PJ, hopefully encouraging and being encouraged in the Lord.
• Attending as many Evensongs as possible and definitely including St Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey and Durham Cathedral.
• Using a small ESV Bible, The Dance of Life: Weaving Sorrows and Blessings into One Joyful Step by Henri Nouwen, The Divine Hours (pocket edition) and Moleskine cahier (for journaling): All for intentional meeting with God throughout the journey.
• Spending a half day in personal retreat at Durham Cathedral (from midday Holy Communion through Evensong).
• Viewing the Lindisfarne Gospels and other early Bibles at the British Library.
• Checking out the sacred art at Musée National du Moyen Age in Paris.
• Being with God even as I wander around London on my own and enjoying those days with Him.
• Eating fish and chips … after all God made potatoes on the third day and fish on the fifth … I'm not sure which day brought about deep frying in batter …

So off I go to retreat, refresh, relax, recharge. I'll be taking a break from Broken Pilgrim until after I get back. See you sometime after Wednesday, January 23.

Sonship Week Journey, 2007

In October of 2007, I had the great privilege of attending World Harvest Mission's Sonship Week. I found the week and subsequent process to be intensely valuable to my spiritual journey. I posted on this weblog throughout the journey and as I look back, I can see important thoughts and experiences at each stage of my journey.

And so I've collected the links to those 14 posts so as to bring all together the posts that are directly connected to this experience. You can find them by clicking the link in the sidebar on the right, Sonship Week Journey, 2007 under the cleverly titled section, Pages (which will probably change in the future as I add more pages and content).

Broken Worship

On Sunday I posted The Way of the Pilgrim with just the single verse, Psalm 51:17. Today's readings in The Divine Hours kept me thinking about what this means.

The Request for Presence said this:

Let all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; let those who love your salvation say for ever, "Great is the LORD!" (Psalm 70:4 BCP)

And this is the exact response that should flow from genuine brokenness. We finally end up seeking God, we discover anew His salvation and it is a glorious thing, a relationship to love, a relationship of love. How can we but respond with rejoicing, gladness and the heart declaration "Great is the Lord!" (BCP), "Let God be exalted!" (NIV), "God is great!" (ESV, NLT), "God is mighty!" (Msg).

And then this from The Morning Psalm:

The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and will save those whose spirits are crushed. (Psalm 34:18 BCP)

This verse is a beautiful handmaiden to Psalm 51:17 (NIV):

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

I believe there is virtue in being broken, BUT it must be a brokenness…

…that turns towards God, ever turning.
…that leads to repentance, to repenting.
…that leads to salvation, to being saved.
…that leads to hope, a hoping pilgrimage.
…that leads to worship, unending worship.

Thanks be to God.

The Way of the Pilgrim

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart,
O God, you will not despise.
Psalm 51:17 (NIV)