The Bells Keep Ringing...

In the hymnal our church uses, there are a bunch of Christmas hymns.  Some of them, like What Child is This or God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, are familiar and sung frequently.  Others, like Once in David's Royal City, are less familiar.  Then there are few that other people seem to be familiar with and are often on Christmas CDs but that I don't know well at all.  A prime example of this is I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.  I know of it.  I've probably even heard it sung before.  Until I heard Casting Crowns sing it, though, I had never paid attention to the lyrics, which I've copied below:

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, good will to men

I thought how, as the day had come

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along the unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men

And in despair I bowed my head

"There is no peace on earth," I said

"For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep

"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men"

Till, ringing singing, on its way

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good will to men

I don't know why I didn't know this song and haven't sung it before.  Those lyrics - particularly the third and fourth stanzas - capture almost perfectly the whole of Christmas and the purpose of the incarnation.  Christ came in the midst of a world of despair to announce to a people that had not heard his voice for hundreds of years that God was neither dead nor asleep!  Amen.

Crucifix v. Cross

One of the more interesting issues I have encountered during my recent fascination with monastic history has been the reaction of many of the Christians around me to the reproduction of the San Damiano Crucifix icon that I have hanging on my office wall, and to crucifixes in general.

As it turns out, many protestant churches - particularly the evangelical denominations - are not overly fond of crucifixes.  They prefer simple crosses.  Briefly, the difference between the two is that a crucifix, also sometimes called a rood, portrays the cross with Jesus on it - the cross of Good Friday.  The Protestant cross, though, purports to portray the cross of Easter Sunday morning...one without Christ.

In fact, the most common objection I have heard to my crucifix icon is just that, that "Jesus was raised from the dead, so he isn't on the cross anymore."  What that objection fails to understand, though, is that while the empty cross seen in most protestant churches is certainly the cross of Sunday morning, so too is the crucified Jesus portrayed on a crucifix.

The gospel accounts of the resurrection of Jesus all portray one particular characteristic of the risen Christ.  The risen Christ is still marked by the crucifixion.  Thomas is able to touch the wounds of Jesus.  Christ's hands are not healed and there are still holes in his feet.  His side is still split open from the soldier's spear.  The risen Christ is, paradoxically, still the crucified Christ.  To be sure, the body of the risen Christ is a glorified body, but it is most certainly not a completely healed body.

It is that paradox - that the risen Christ is and will eternally remain the crucified Christ - that a crucifix attempts to represent.  The crucifix on my wall keeps me from falling prey to the temptation to diminish the cross of Good Friday - to succumb to the uncomfortable feeling that a battered, bloody Jesus gives me and just skip right to Easter Sunday.

The fact of the matter is that no symbol - be it a crucifix or an empty cross - completely represents the truth of the gospel and of Jesus the Christ.  Each has something to teach us.

Vows

Because of my fascination with church history in general and with monasticism in particular, I find myself spending a lot of time lately searching for more and more information on my spiritual forefathers who served in early monasteries.  I have visited several monasteries and confess that, every time I visit one, I am a little envious of the simple daily rhythms of life for the monks.  I used to harbor the illusion that modern day monastics were just like their forebears...until I spent three days at an Abbey in Michigan.  Where the monks brew their own beer and talk about the latest internet craze and where one of the readings at meals comes from local news.

But we're far afield from the point of this post.  As I was learning more about the Benedictine approach to monasticism, I discovered what it was that made Benedict's Rule (the guide to life in a monastery community) so radically different from the rules of those who had gone before him.  Typical monks take three vows - poverty (not owning anything individually), chastity (no sex), and obedience (do what the Abbot tells you).  Benedict, though, added a fourth vow...that of stability.  By vowing stability, a monk was vowing to spend the entirety of his or her life at one monastery; thus curtailing a disturbing trend of monks moving from one monastery to another for trivial reasons.

I've been thinking about that for the last few minutes, and I came to a realization.  I wish we could convince the non-monastic members of churches in America to take vows of stability.  Church hopping has become a hobby in most communities.  I personally have known people who have changed churches because they didn't like the preaching, because someone they knew was offended by another member, and because one church offered something another church didn't.  Usually the excuse you hear from these people is, "I'm just not getting fed."

The problem with that excuse is that it hides the sin of pride - the thought that my desires or my needs are more important than my commitment to this community of believers...a commitment that, at its highest and best, extends beyond attendance to financial support and volunteering in ministries.  When we just automatically discount the power of that commitment, we lose something in the church.

Of course, not every Christian is like this - I know one particular churchgoer who told me during a particularly tough time at her local church that, even though she wasn't sure of the future of the church and not particularly fond of the minister, it was her church and she would be there "until the last dog dies."

That's the kind of vow of stability that I can get behind.

A Second Blog...

I'm not necessarily sure this is a great idea, but I have started a second blog.  The second blog, titled The Bibliomane and found here, is a separate entity devoted entirely to books.  This blog has developed into a repository for my deepest ruminations and spiritual thoughts, and I didn't want to clutter it up with a bunch of literature posts.  The easiest thing to do, then, was to create a second blog.

Hence The Bibliomane.  If you like books or are ever in need of a book recommendation, check it out!

Of course, all this really means is that I'm addicted to blogging.  

The Ultimate Answer to the "Dinner" Question

How many times have you heard the question, "If you could have dinner with one person or one group of people from history, who would you choose and why?"  As a history buff, I usually hate answering that question, and I never answer it the same way twice.  Previous answers in my past have included Dwight Eisenhower, MacArthur, Patton and Marshall all together; the writers of the four gospels; historian Stephen Ambrose; a few of the old popes; Martin Luther; well, you get the idea...the answer always seemed to change.

No longer.  I have found the answer to the question - the ultimate answer.  I was reading Brave Companions by noted historian and two-time Pulitzer Prize winner David McCullough when I first encountered the famous Saturday Club of the mid 1800s.  The fourth saturday of every month, the following gentlemen would gather to dine and to chat:

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - One of the greatest poets in American History

Jean-Louis Aggasiz - A French geologist and polymath who almost singlehandedly transformed Harvard University into a modern mecca of education.

Ralph Waldo Emerson - Possibly the greatest American mind ever...I don't even need to say anymore.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. - A physician and another well-known poet.

And occasionally they were joined by a random nobody - one Nathaniel Hawthorne - the famous author of The Scarlet Letter.

I can't even begin to imagine the sheer mental power in the room when those men got together.  I would give large amounts of money just to sit and listen and overhear their conversations.  It boggles my mind - and it is something that will probably never happen again - that many of the greatest minds in the world gathering together...

Could there even be a better answer to the aforementioned "Dinner Question?"

I think not.