Saturday, November 1, 2014 (All Saints’ Day)
Hebrews 11:32 - 12:2
Over the past couple of months I have been thinking quite a bit about my faith -- what it means to me, where it came from, where it’s taking me, what it looks like. A lot of this was in preparation for my attendance at a big gathering where I, along with several other people exploring a call to the priesthood, were ‘assessed.’ Naturally, something that the assessors want to learn about is the candidate’s spiritual journey. For instance, was there a definitive conversion experience? Or more accurately, was there a gradual or sudden one? What have been some definitive moments along the way? Or important people?
It is helpful for all of us, lay or ordained, to think about these questions. It’s good practice for when someone -- anyone -- asks you about your faith or your life story.
For me, one of the definitive transitions or conversions in my life was from a very individualistic understanding of faith and spirituality to a more corporate one. As people living in the West in the 21st century we are naturally inclined toward a very ME-centric orientation. And as Christians brought up in a tradition that came out of the Reformation (even if a bit more balanced than other traditions), we tend to read Paul through Augustine through Luther and come out with a very (or solely) personal understanding of faith. Taken to extremes, your personal faith is everything, and the Church, others, ‘unbelievers,’ people with whom we disagree, can all become inconsequential.
But if you read the Acts of the Apostles or early Church history, or study Judaism, you start to get a sense of the importance of community. Think about how amazing it is that we are not all on our own. In our liturgy we don’t pray as isolated individuals, but with all gathered, with Anglicans (and not just Anglicans!) all over the world, with Thomas Cranmer, Hippolytus, and Justin Martyr. And those are just a few who have had a direct hand in the Church’s liturgical development. Indeed, we pray with all the saints, and even the angels and archangels. I believe that this change in focus from yourself to the whole Body of Christ can radically change your experience of worship.
This was hit home for me a number of years ago when I was visiting Holy Cross Priory in Toronto. I was speaking to Brother William, a fascinating guy from the Southern US, about my prayer life. I told him about how I was saying morning and evening prayer, but changing all the “we’s” and “us’s” to “I” and “me.” He quickly corrected me: “No, no, you don’t need to do that! Even if separated by space and time, the whole Church prays together! So leave the wording as is!”
I had another turning point around the same time. I had been growing in my appreciation of our monastic tradition, and was quite taken with St. Francis. I had the nudge to go out and get one of those statues that you put in the garden (St. Francis being a popular one based on his connection to the natural world). But it wasn’t sitting right with my Protestant upbringing. So I called up my friend Greg, someone whom I consider to be a mentor. He compared statues and pictures, at least at their best, to family photos. And why wouldn’t I surround myself with photos of my loved ones? (My wife Leslie bugs me that in our living room we have a picture of Thomas Merton, but not one of ourselves. Though I could point out to her that we also have a huge poster of Kevin Bacon from the movie Footloose, too.)
Today, All Saints’ Day, is a good day to give thanks for that “great cloud of witnesses” that surrounds us. God is made known to us not just in direct revelation, like a laser beam into our brains, but often in the lives of others. What saints have been important to you? Today I give thanks for those ‘big names’ I mentioned; people like St. Francis, Cranmer, and Merton. And I also give thanks for those whom I have been privileged to know personally: people like Br. William and Greg.
- Matthew Kieswetter
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