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Blessing the Animals, and Must the Rector Search Committee Have Its Own Chaplain?
Two congregations will celebrate the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi with a blessing of the animals.
The Episcopal Church of Bethesda-by-the-Sea invites pets and their owners to the celebration Oct. 3. The procession into the church will begin at 8:45 a.m., with the service starting at 9 a.m. Coffee hour in the garth will follow.
The next day, the Rev. Frank Lechiara will hold the blessing in the St. Edward Catholic Church courtyard at a time to be announced.
I remember the Shiny Sheet’s video a year or two ago of this event at Bethesda. Readers of this blog know that I have fond memories of our Siamese cat Buff, but the whole concept of taking him to Bethesda to have water thrown on him sends chills up my spine.
But this is worthy of note, for the church that has everything (emphasis mine):
The Rev. Perry T. Fuller has appointed Laura Warner to become the coordinator of Children and Youth Ministry at The Episcopal Church of Bethesda-by-the-Sea. Warner has a master’s degree in education and has been involved in all phases of children and youth ministry at the church.
She is chaplain of the rector search committee, a vestry member and serves on the Altar Guild and as a Eucharistic minister.
I’m a big supporter of chaplaincy, was my church’s Chaplains Commission webmaster for many years. This takes chaplaincy to a new level, but where that level is I’m not quite sure in this case.
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Charity vs. Justice Work: The Difference Is Important
The Lead, quoting William Sloane Coffin, puts the question clearly:
Had I but one wish for the churches of America I think it would be that they come to see the difference between charity and justice. Charity is a matter of personal attributes; justice, a matter of public policy. Charity seeks to eliminate the effects of injustice; justice seeks to eliminate the causes of it. Charity in no way affects the status quo, while justice leads inevitably to political confrontation.
This, people, is the core difference between liberal and conservative churches. Conservative churches do (they’re supposed to, at least, and many do a great deal) charity work, directly helping people. Liberal churches do justice work, getting the government to do the work for them. The implied concept behind the latter is that the government is able to make the “necessary” changes in society that will stick long after the charity is done.
Needless to say, The Lead approvingly quotes a Baptist leader who notes that “When he (Jesus) spoke with authorities who contributed to the injustice of his society, he rebuked them.”
This, of course, is where liberals get lost in the New Testament narrative, a narrative whose veracity they’ve challenged as long as they’ve trumpeted social justice. (That’s a major dissonance issue, but I digress…) There’s not a shred of evidence that Jesus or his followers pursued a “social justice” agenda as we understand it today. It’s one thing to tell people that they should follow the law the way God handed it to them. It’s quite another to tell people they should change the law (or “the system”) for “equity” purposes, to disempower one group and empower another.
The simple fact in the time of the New Testament and for the remainder of the Roman Empire’s existence is that the open, democratic institutions that make non-violent social action even possible didn’t exist. The Roman Republic had some of this, but things could get wild, as the Gracchi brothers found out the hard way. To read back a “social justice” agenda as we understand it into the New Testament both does theological violence to the NT and is anachronistic.
Bringing up the Gracchi brothers points out something else: the alternative to “social action” is revolution. And revolution, with the right kind of leadership and the right conditions, will result in change. Personally I’ve always found that liberal Christian social activists are too chicken to be revolutionaries. It’s just as well; the last century had far too much of the change that revolution brought.
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Every King is Proclaimed by Soldiers
This is the seventh in a sporadic series on the Catechetical Lectures of St. Cyril of Jerusalem. The previous post was The Difference Between Image and Likeness in Genesis.
In the midst of his exposition on the passion, crucifixion and burial of Jesus Christ, Cyril makes the following statement:
But the soldiers who crowd around mock Him, and their Lord becomes a sport to them, and upon their Master they make jests. When they looked on Me, they shaked their heads. (Psalms 109, 25.) Yet the figure of kingly state appears; for though in mockery, yet they bend the knee. And the soldiers before they crucify Him, put on Him a purple robe, and set a crown on His head; for what though it be of thorns? Every king is proclaimed by soldiers; and Jesus also must in a figure be crowned by soldiers; so that for this cause the Scripture says in the Canticles, Go forth, O you daughters of Jerusalem, and look upon King Solomon in the crown wherewith His mother crowned Him. (Song of Solomon, 3:11.) And the crown itself was a mystery; for it was a remission of sins, a release from the curse. (XIII, 17)
Readers of this blog have probably been waiting for the “other shoe to drop” and for me to turn Cyril’s lectures into a political statement. Well, here it is. In passing he makes a pungent observation about Roman politics that puts a new perspective (new to most of us) on this part of the passion.
The part of the gospel narrative he is referring to is this:
After that, the Governor’s soldiers took Jesus with them into the Government House, and gathered the whole garrison round him. They stripped him, and put on him a red military cloak, And having twisted some thorns into a crown, put it on his head, and a rod in his right hand, and then, going down on their knees before him, they mocked him. “Long life to you, King of the Jews!” they said. They spat at him and, taking the rod, kept striking him on the head; And, when they had left off mocking him, they took off the military cloak, and put his own clothes on him, and led him away to be crucified. (Matthew 27:27-31)
Good Friday isn’t normally thought of as a “political” holy day, but looking at it from the standpoint of how and why Jesus was arrested and tried, it is the political holy day par excellence. The Jewish leadership placed against him the charge of blasphemy, but in reality their actions were politically driven, as I discussed in my piece We Are Donkeys. Yes, We Are. Once they got the result they were after, it was time for the soldiers to make their political move, and they did with a vengeance.
For all of its greatness, the Roman Empire never quite hit upon a succession routine that it found satisfactory over a long period of time. Until the last century before Our Lord, the Republic had its cursus honorum for aspiring leaders up to the annual election of the two consuls. That regularity of office inspired our own Founding Fathers in the drafting of the U.S. Constitution.
The success of the Republic’s expansion put strains on the system that led to adventurers like Marius and Sulla to upset the routine. From then on the Republic’s life was dominated by careerists with armies behind them: Pompey (who actually strolled into the Holy of Holies,) Crassus (who perished at the hands of the Persians,) and ultimately Julius Caesar. Caesar’s assassination set off a new round of war with the likes of Mark Antony and Octavian, who ultimately cleaned up the mess by dispatching Mark Antony at Actium and establishing what we call the Empire but is more properly referred to as the Principiate.
The years between Augustus’ accession and Nero’s death were relatively peaceful, but the soldiers were always out there. Tiberius, under whose reign the Passion took place, had for a time a “regent” in Sejanus, head of the Praetorian Guard. In 41 A.D. Claudius was put forth by the Praetorians, the Senate eventually going along. And, of course, the “long and one year” 69 A.D., was a battle of one set of soldiers after another proclaiming successive emperors until Vespasian triumphed over all, leaving his son Titus, the “darling of the human race” (to use Josephus’ sycophantic phrase) to level Jerusalem.
That, in any case, is the situation around the time of the New Testament. Cyril was doubtless aware of all of this, but more recent history dominated his thinking.
The years between the assassination of Commodus in 192 and the proclamation of Diocletian in 284 were a long, bloody mess. The soldiers not only proclaimed just about every emperor; they proclaimed several at once, leading to one civil war after another. A state and civilisation weaker than Rome would have collapsed under the strain; as it was, the third century was grim enough for most of the Empire. Like Julius Caesar’s rule, Diocletian’s attempt to stabilise things with the Tetrarchy was a temporary fix. It was left to Constantine to restore one emperor rule, and that after having to defeat his rivals (except for Licinius, whom he had executed.) After Constantine’s death his sons, when not meddling in the Arian controversy, fought each other and usurpers, each proclaimed by soldiers.
Cyril’s comment, thus must be seen in the light of Roman history and practice. This leads us to three lessons:
- The soldiers who crowned and mocked Jesus were not only aiming their sport at him; they were “play acting” the central act of Roman politics and Imperial history. Today, it was a prisoner; tomorrow, for them, it might be the next Roman Emperor. Most of the proclamations of that day were done closer to home, i.e., Rome, so they may have figured they needed to at least act it out when they got the chance.
- Cyril’s point is that, not realising it, the soldiers were making the most important proclamation of kingship they would ever do. Unlike Roman Emperors, God didn’t need a group of soldiers to proclaim the king of the universe, but, just as he accommodated us in the Incarnation, so also they proclaimed him anyway. The significance of that proclamation, and the events surrounding it, sunk in to some of the soldiers who were present: “The Roman Officer, who was standing facing Jesus, on seeing the way in which he expired, exclaimed: “This man must indeed have been ‘God’s Son’!”” (Mark 15:39.)
- Roman history is a lesson that a stable, consistent routine of government change can deteriorate more quickly than we’d like to think. The deep disaffection in our own society should be a warning to us. We could be seeing rulers proclaimed by soldiers much sooner than we’d like to think.
