Clarion: Journal of Spirituality and Justice

The Renaissance of Syriac Spirituality: the Forgotten Sibling - Ron Dart

See also Ron Dart and Abp Lazar Puhalo on "Syriac Fathers & Syrian Crisis" here:

Servant Leadership in the Public Square - Ron Dart

Andromeda's Vulnerable Creator - Kenneth Tanner

Our closest galactic neighbor, Andromeda, is 2.5 million light-years away. She dwarfs our galaxy and contains a trillion stars.

 

The energy that fuels all of those stars and has kept them in a spiral for 13 billion years is measurable, but who has the instruments or the time? The best we can do is make estimates.

 

Our witness and wisdom says that a first-century baby born to a peasant Jewish teenager, a baby whose stepfather was a carpenter, is the One who spoke this galaxy into fiery substance and perpetual motion from nothing.

 

And our tradition claims that this human is the One who spoke another hundred billion galaxies into existence from no substance that existed before...*ex nihilo* in the ancient tongue.

 

One of the stories about this human tells us that on the night before he suffered for the cosmos he created, that he loves from eternity before his own life, he took a towel and a basin of water and washed the feet of his friends.

 

You cannot wash someone’s feet without getting low to the ground, on your knees.

 

In the world of his time, the host of a meal would not be the one to wash the feet of his guests. This was the task of a servant.

 

What does it mean that the One who creates all stars and fuels their fires, is on his knees, serving humans?

 

Let me suggest that it means that most human projection of what it means to be a god or the God in the history of humans—and most human imagination of what it means to be powerful—is deeply mistaken.

 

One makes oneself vulnerable to wash feet in a world without proper sanitation and waste removal but this detail about humbly kneeling and scrubbing who knows what from smelly feet is not nearly the lowest place this human goes or will go to love the cosmos.

 

This human who is God descends further still, down into death, entering by his own terrible death into the death of every human, for every time the one human nature we all share dies we die again, and he dies again with us, and further still: he descends into all our hells.

 

Athanasius says that he keeps falling further than our hells and his descent is not slowed until he is beneath the deepest falling human, down to the edges of non-existence, to rescue us from the non-being from which we came and to give the one human nature we all share permanence.

 

He is not stingy with his kind of existence. He wants his fellow humans to participate in his never-ending divine life.

 

He gives humans not the permanence of Andromeda but his own permanence, and with all humans somehow gives the cosmos the gift of his eternity.

 

The name of this human who is God is Jesus Christ.

No Analogies, Please. Encounter! - Kenneth Tanner

Forget about explanations and analogies for the Trinity. Please instead take them hand-in-hand, then walk his students or disciples down a dusty path to the Jordan.

 

There, among the tall reeds on the bank stands Jesus, who has also just walked there from Nazareth, his feet tired, sore, and dirty.

 

Jesus wades in ankle-deep. The cool, flowing water is soothing. From here he watches his human brothers and sisters descend one by one, waist-deep, faces drawing near to John the Baptist.

They are entering the water to be cleansed, to repent. Jesus has no need for the cleansing, or the change of heart and mind, and yet here he is, his human face set toward suffering encounter.

 

Bonhoeffer says that Jesus does not ponder his perfection or feel his superiority but rather expresses solidarity with everyone gathered to be made well, to amend their ways, by—what wondrous love is this?—presenting himself for baptism, too.

 

As he approaches John, the Baptist recognizes not only the body of his cousin, with whom he played as a child, but Isaiah’s lamb, the One who takes away the sin of the world.

 

John is reluctant. He does not see why Jesus needs this ritual because he does not see the cross in this watery moment, does not understand that Jesus is already, here In the murky waters of the Jordan, descending into chaos, darkness, and death, taking on himself the sin of the whole world.

For every moment in this story is a story about the cross, and as a story about the cross is also a story about resurrection but only after it is a story about torture.

 

This is not a God who remains on the banks of the river, uninvolved and aloof from the pain of existence, but who joins us in our predicament, participates without sin in the deaths we each of us bear about in our bodies, especially in the moment of our deaths—all the preparatory ones and the last and final one—is baptized for us and with us.

 

Unlike the other gods we project and handcraft and make wishes for, this God is a baptized God. He identifies with us so that he might identify us with him.

He also rises out of the waters. He does not stay in the grave. And as he comes up out of the chaos and the darkness, he is in prayer. Perhaps he prays among other things, “Father forgive them.”

 

And here I want to loudly encourage the catechists, pastors, Sunday School teachers, and theologians of the church: forget your distorting analogies and torturous explanations and help your students and disciples have an *encounter* with the Living God!

 

Like this:

 

Jesus comes up out of the cool, flowing, murky waters, and as he prayers, we are told in Matthew, Mark, and Luke that there’s the sound of avionic movement, there are wings, feathers, and mystery as the Holy Spirit “alights” or “rests” on the Son in the body of a dove. Perhaps she rests on his shoulder?

 

Do you see and hear the rustle of divine wings on the air?

And this is not nearly all.

 

We are told that the sky is torn, a rip occurs in space-time. And through the tear in existence, there is suddenly a Voice: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

 

The majestic voice proceeds from the invisible Father who dwells in light so bright no one can approach him. And yet here is his Son with whom he is One God with their Spirit, who does not wait for us to approach him but who has approached us, who touches his human brothers and sisters and heals us, who looks upon us with compassion, who embraces us in suffering, who dies with us, that we might ever live.

 

The Father and the Spirit *reveal* themselves in this moment that the Son draws near to every human who has ever lived or ever will live, just as they reveal themselves in the transfiguration and at the cross.

 

The baptism of the human God does not separate Jesus from any other humans, nor any humans from any other humans, but draws every human into Love’s triune fellowship. And this why I trust that the Father is pleased with the Son, as he always is.

 

Why on earth would you use a symbol when you can *enter* the story of God with humans, the story of God as a human, a human with a Spirit that rests on him, a human with a Father who loves the world so much that he sent him, not to condemn the world but that the world through him might live.

 

Why make an analogy or explanation when you can live this revelation of the triune Love?

 

*thanks to Taylor, Drew, Jason, David, Ryan, Josh, and Todd for prompting this from somewhere deep in the Covid-jaded heart of this mere human that sometimes still feels like he has something pressing to say to anyone that might still be listening

Participating makes the relationship—not the pancakes—better - Jonathan Parker

 

The little hands flutter with excitement. Each child gets a chance to whisk the flour. The kids laugh as a tiny patch escapes the bowl, dusting the countertop like snow. It’s not the most efficient process for making pancakes, but it is the most meaningful.

 

The children smile as their mother kisses each forehand and voices her approval and gratefulness for the help. I’m convinced they’ll remember this feeling of acceptance for eternity. She looks just like Jesus.

 

When Christ looks out among the hungry multitude, He proposes the same arrangement to the disciples—would you like to participate in what I am doing? Why else would He suggest the impossible task of feeding so many? Jesus—taking the cues of His Father—is always playing the long game of relationship.

 

Relationships grow in a myriad of ways, but the fastest and most effective way is side by side. Jesus could have fed all those men, women and children completely on His own, but He and His friends would have missed out on a moment to grow their relationship through actively participating in the work together.

 

Those richest in relationships understand this fully—the sweetest part of life is inviting or accepting invitation. It takes patience, gentleness and the ability to ignore the clock to reach down to another’s level and allow them to join you, but it’s a gift of grace, time and unity.

 

Paul Young said, “any healthy family moves at the speed of its slowest member.” This is a stark contrast to our society’s addiction to efficiency porn and win-at-all-costs striving. A few years in that rat race leaves you empty in countless ways, but chiefly in relationships.

 

So Jesus calls us out of this endless striving for approval and place. What is the Incarnation if not the greatest declaration of eternal acceptance to all of humanity?

 

When Christ makes His home with us, it’s not to coerce or give orders. It’s to invite participation, not because it makes the process more effective, but because it makes the relationship stronger.

 

This call to participate is a call to engage deeply. Spouses, children and friends call us to this level of engagement throughout the day. Drs. John and Julie Gottman, couple specialists, call these little nudges “bids to connect.”

 

Adults often need these nudges towards real, lasting and nurturing relationships—a fresh break from performative ones. And what a gift to receive those bids for connection. When I am healthy and stable enough to accept that invitation from my children to rest in their play, I can feel the Spirit affirming my participation. Where does the bid to sit and rest and play originate? Again, I feel her answer.

 

As the Spirit—through her own voice or another’s—bids for deeper connection, embrace the rest, freedom and relationship.

 

In the heart of the Father, Son and Spirit, our participation brings the same kiss and affirmation of acceptance as a parent preparing pancakes with her children.

 

The mother—modeling her Heavenly Father—knows the pancakes don’t really matter; the relationship with her children does. Always the long the game.

 

Participating makes the relationship—not the pancakes—better - Jonathan Parker

 

The little hands flutter with excitement. Each child gets a chance to whisk the flour. The kids laugh as a tiny patch escapes the bowl, dusting the countertop like snow. It’s not the most efficient process for making pancakes, but it is the most meaningful.

 

The children smile as their mother kisses each forehand and voices her approval and gratefulness for the help. I’m convinced they’ll remember this feeling of acceptance for eternity. She looks just like Jesus.

 

When Christ looks out among the hungry multitude, He proposes the same arrangement to the disciples—would you like to participate in what I am doing? Why else would He suggest the impossible task of feeding so many? Jesus—taking the cues of His Father—is always playing the long game of relationship.

 

Relationships grow in a myriad of ways, but the fastest and most effective way is side by side. Jesus could have fed all those men, women and children completely on His own, but He and His friends would have missed out on a moment to grow their relationship through actively participating in the work together.

 

Those richest in relationships understand this fully—the sweetest part of life is inviting or accepting invitation. It takes patience, gentleness and the ability to ignore the clock to reach down to another’s level and allow them to join you, but it’s a gift of grace, time and unity.

 

Paul Young said, “any healthy family moves at the speed of its slowest member.” This is a stark contrast to our society’s addiction to efficiency porn and win-at-all-costs striving. A few years in that rat race leaves you empty in countless ways, but chiefly in relationships.

 

So Jesus calls us out of this endless striving for approval and place. What is the Incarnation if not the greatest declaration of eternal acceptance to all of humanity?

 

When Christ makes His home with us, it’s not to coerce or give orders. It’s to invite participation, not because it makes the process more effective, but because it makes the relationship stronger.

 

This call to participate is a call to engage deeply. Spouses, children and friends call us to this level of engagement throughout the day. Drs. John and Julie Gottman, couple specialists, call these little nudges “bids to connect.”

 

Adults often need these nudges towards real, lasting and nurturing relationships—a fresh break from performative ones. And what a gift to receive those bids for connection. When I am healthy and stable enough to accept that invitation from my children to rest in their play, I can feel the Spirit affirming my participation. Where does the bid to sit and rest and play originate? Again, I feel her answer.

 

As the Spirit—through her own voice or another’s—bids for deeper connection, embrace the rest, freedom and relationship.

 

In the heart of the Father, Son and Spirit, our participation brings the same kiss and affirmation of acceptance as a parent preparing pancakes with her children.

 

The mother—modeling her Heavenly Father—knows the pancakes don’t really matter; the relationship with her children does. Always the long the game.