Book Signing

Last Thursday evening, I went to a book signing to hear one of my favorite authors, Kathleen Norris (Dakota, The Cloister Walk, Amazing Grace) talk about her new book -- Acedia and Me. "Acedia" is the term the desert monastics used for the spiritual condition of "not caring" (and even not caring that one doesn't care!). An unfamiliar term to most of us, in the monastic literature, acedia is nicknamed "the noonday demon", because monks often experienced it between the hours of noon and 4 p.m. as they were alone in their cells, attending to their daily prayers. According to Norris, when the "8 bad thoughts" of early monasticism evolved into "the seven deadly sins", acedia was folded into the sin of sloth, but a significant distinction remains between the two.

While I enjoyed Kathleen's talk, and look forward to reading her book, the most fascinating part of the evening for me was watching this overtly Christian author stand in a public place, surrounded by 40 or 50 people (presumably not all Christians) and talk about her spiritual journey and the struggles attendant to it. She was respectful of other faiths. She wan't "preachy" or dogmatic. She simply gave witness to the ways in which her faith informed her life -- and the ways in which the Christian community had supported her in her walk with God.

I began to wonder how acedia might be at work within congregations -- particularly congregations in the so-called Mainline denominations. I wondered if the reticence to speak openly of our faith in our daily interactions might be a sign of something more than simply insecurity or a hyper-sensitivity to giving offense to anyone. I wondered if part of the reason Episcopalians are so hesitant about publicly owning their faith, is that they continue to think their faith is a private matter...known only to God and to no one else.

When we forget that Christianity is a communal religion --that we are dependent upon the entire Body of Christ; when we are content to view "church" as something we attend rather than something we are; when we witdraw from each other and hide behind small talk and polite plesantries, are we not opening our congregations to the oppression of "not caring that we don't care" about the world around us?

30 Days Later

When I began this exercise in Lent, I was clear about what I would not do here. I would not:

1. Blather on about the present issues in the Episcopal Church/Anglican Communion. There are enough people doing that already.

2. Attempt to "manage" Trinity Church through oblique and not-so-oblique references to parish life.

3. Confuse politics with partisanship.

I wasn't so clear about exactly what I would do in this project. Recently, most of my mental energy has been occupied with the above items on my self-imposed "prohibited list", so I figured keeping my opinions to myself was the best option.

I'm not sure how the remainder of 2008 will unfold. Less than 100 days left of it. Between now and December 31, there will be the election of the next U.S. president, the U.S. involvement in Afghanistan and Iraq will continue and Congress will take up the question of how to best respond to the financial difficulties of Wall Street and Main Street.

Perhaps what I can do from this little corner of the blogosphere is reflect on my firm conviction that the Gospel is the power of God for wholeness and healing. The Gospel is not something we read out of a gilded book on a Sunday morning, but it is the way in which we Christians interact with the world around us. The light of the Gospel cannot be hid under a basket (even if that "basket" is disguised as a brick building with beautiful stained glass). The Gospel escapes the boundaries we attempt to put around it all the time. The Gospel will not be tamed. The Gospel will not be managed.

The Gospel is loose in the world -- and while that could be comforting for some, no doubt this reality scares the hell out of others. Good.