Adjutorium

Christians who let fear drive them into a defensive posture against the bad old secular culture make themselves and their religion so unattractive it’s no wonder they’re marginalized.

from Don’t defend your ideas – spread them | S I L O U A N.

He starts by referencing an article, the gist of which is “So, how to protect your ideas in a world where ideas spread? Don’t. Instead, spread them.” From there, the ever-nimble Silouan moves to the pointlessness of “defending Christianity” and the necessity of living it.

At his time of Samhain, often called the Celtic New Year, I pray for everyone for a year of grace and joy. May the veil always be thin for you between this world and the next, so you may know God’s presence with all the angels who enfold you and the saints who pray for you. May you grow in prayer and closeness to God. Please pray for me.

Since all things were created by God through Christ and for Christ, and since his Lordship extends to all creation, that includes the demons as well as me. So that means that the demons and I have the same natural Lord. So, in the imaginary conversation I was just now having with a low-level demon, I was explaining that the only difference (Oh, yes, I have these imaginary conversations all the time. That is how I sort out my thoughts. I have to pretend that I am talking to somebody or I just can’t get idea A to follow idea B.) … I was explaining that the only difference is that I acknowledge Christ as Lord and submit myself to him. And then, of course, I realized my ghastly mistake. I do no such thing! Neither, I imagine, does the demon. But at least the demon doesn’t pretend he does and go on and on about it and have imaginary conversations with me in which he explains what a fine Christian he is. I do. So the only real difference between the demon and I is that the demon is more honest about his unwillingness to submit to the Lord. I lie. So there. I am less virtuous than a demon.

And now what can I say? Lord, have mercy.

O God, come to my assistance;
O Lord, make haste to help me

In the FWIW department, on July 2, at 4:15 AM EST, this blog received its 100,000 visitor.

from Scribere Orare Est : 100,000.

And that 100,000th visitor was… me! I recommend that you take time to read this blog a bit. The priest Jared Cramer who writes it has a good story, and many good things to say. He deals with the juxtaposition of theological orthodoxy and freedom within the Episcopal Church, writing amazingly well about, for example, homosexuality and the Holy Eucharist

Here is a quotation by St. John of Karpathos which does not need any commentary by me, of all people.

Blessed is he who, with a hunger that is never satisfied, day and night throughout this present life makes prayer and the psalms his food and drink, and strengthens himself by reading of God’s glory in Scripture. Such communion will lead the soul to ever-increasing joy in the age to come.

Stuff Christian Culture Likes: #85 Leading worship barefoot.

A very brief post about evangelical “praise teams” (i.e. bands) performing barefoot. Lots of comments. As a Celtic Catholic, who holds the ideal that the entire congregation should be barefoot, and who has not celebrated the Holy Eucharist shod maybe ever, except once that I can remember, I find the comments to be quite amusing.

For 2000 years, man has been free from chains of sin, though the rulers of this world have conspired to keep the news from him.

from Juneteenth | S I L O U A N.

Comparing the glorious news of freedom which the slaves in Texas heard to the glorious freedom we all have in Christ. Wow! I could have written that. It’s so obvious. Except it never occurred to me. Like the cat flap. Perfectly obvious once somebody else thinks of it.

I want to make sure that nobody thinks I am suggesting that one use the Adjutorium instead of praying in one’s own words, from the heart. The Adjutorium is not meant to replace anything, but to add to it. It becomes a part of the rhythm of life, but does not remove the need and desire for other types of prayer. So, for example, if I suggest that the Adjutorium is a good prayer when you are afraid, that does not mean that I am suggesting that you should not also pray, “Oh, God! I’m afraid. Help!” It is a good prayer in joy; but you should also pray “Yippee-skippee yee hah!” (Or whatever else you might say.) The previous post said that the Adjutorium can at times be a better, more authentic prayer than any extemporaneous words out of me, but that does not mean those ad hoc words are not valid and necessary.

I believe it is possible, but I do not know for sure, that the more one uses the Adjutorium, the less one will desire extemporaneous prayers when asking for things for oneself. This needs clarification later.

Abbot Isaac says:

Since it contains an invocation of God against every danger, it contains humble and pious confession, it contains the watchfulness of anxiety and continual fear, it contains the thought of one’s own weakness, confidence in the answer, and the assurance of a present and ever ready help. For one who is constantly calling on his protector, is certain that He is always at hand.

I have heard people ask, “But isn’t the Adjutorium too groveling? Asking for his help twenty four hours a day seems so unsure of his response.” But nothing could be further from the truth. It is a prayer of utter confidence in God’s love and care.

When examining this prayer, we must not look only at the very words, but at the whole of the meaning they carry and symbolize for the faithful pray-er. The words themselves, though important since words express meaning, are not the focus; the meaning the words express is the point. The meaning we put into this prayer, the meaning which has been put into it by countless generations of praying Christians, is what we plead before God. So it is not a continual grovel-fest, unless we make it to be that. It is rather a humble and honest constant request for God’s help and also a certain assurance that God loves us, that he cares, that he is listening, that he is truly quick to help and eager to save. The Adjutorium has no meaning unless we assume that God is more interested in helping us that we are in being helped.

It starts from a realistic assessment of our need. That honest admission may be more than we are capable of at the time. Frankly, I do not really understand the depth of my need for God. I know this to be true because, after 46 years, I realize my need for God much more than I did, say, five years ago. I can not imagine that I will not understand my need more when I have lived five more years. And even then, my understanding will not be complete. So I don’t know now how much I need God. But this beautiful verse, “O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me,” contains an understanding greater than I had five years ago, greater than I have now, and undoubtedly greater than I will have at any point before I die. So, when I pray it, I am praying from the truth of my being, I am praying from my need for God, but much better than I would do consistently on my own.

It is humble because it is honest; it is pious because it is reverent. It puts me in my correct relationship with God: I am someone lowly who needs his assistance. I am a human being who may stand before him and ask for that help. It is pious because when I pray for God to save me, I am fulfilling the obligation of justice by giving him his due. He deserves to be acknowledged as the source of all ultimate help and as the one who can fulfill my deepest needs. I confess (put into words) who I am and who God is by praying this short sentence.

It is a prayer of watchfulness and continual fear. Yuck! I used to hate any talk of fear in my spiritual life. But children, let me tell you, the older I get the more I realize that the word fear is used to carry a lot of true meaning. The older I get, the more experience I have with blowing it utterly. I have seen more of my good intentions fall by the wayside than I can remember. I have failed at more noble attempts than most people have even thought to attempt in the first place. I know myself all too well. Oh, God. O God! Help. Help, please! I know I can’t do it. I know I won’t. I’ve tried before, and before that I attempted, and a whole bunch of before that even. And I fail, fail, fail, and don’t succeed. I need help. I’m scared even to look at my record. Oh, sure, I’ve succeeded at many things. But that which is becoming more and more important to me all the time–my walk with God–at that I have failed miserably. And I need assistance. Heck, sometimes I almost think hyper-Augustinianism is right and I need God just to do it for me.

So it’s OK to say “fear.” I fear my own failure, my own lack of focus and determination, my own tendency to sloth. I no longer, however, fear the word “fear.” I’m not afraid of God–not at all. But I am afraid of my sinfulness and weakness.

And above all, the Adjutorium is hopeful and confident in God. When praying it, I know that God is right here, that he wants to help, that he will help, that he loves me infinitely. I wouldn’t bother asking if I didn’t know that. And the prayer itself knows that assurance much better than I, of course. Sometimes when praying it, I can feel that confidence washing through me like water, as if the Adjutorium itself holds the deep knowledge of God’s dependability and lends me that assurance when it passes from mind to heart to lips.

So you see, the Adjutorium is more than just a collection of words with a particular meaning. It is a repository of meanings which I give to it and which others have given to it.

If the rich history of the Celtic churches is a fairly recent discovery, their spirituality may be an even more surprising resource for a life-affirming, holistic, and faithful way of life for Christians in this “postmodern” world and, more importantly, the world of the future. Celtic spirituality may in fact be “newer” and more valuable than many better known spiritual traditions of later ages.

And how about this intriguing question:

What can a Celtic spirituality teach us about living with terrorism?

from The Spirituality of the Celtic Church | S I L O U A N.