Praying and praising in all circumstances

Most of us are having a hard time keeping our spirits up as we deal with government restrictions in light of this pandemic. Whatever we’re going through, I am not sure it is worse than being captured by pirates and sold into slavery, though. And that’s what happened to St Patrick. About his time as a slave, Patrick writes:

After I arrived in Ireland, I tended sheep every day, and I prayed frequently during the day. More and more the love of God increased, and my sense of awe before God. Faith grew, and my spirit was moved, so that in one day I would pray up to one hundred times, and at night perhaps the same. I even remained in the woods and on the mountain, and I would rise to pray before dawn in snow and ice and rain. I never felt the worse for it, and I never felt lazy – as I realise now, the spirit was burning in me at that time.

Confessio 16

Perhaps what we’re missing is more prayer?

Reflections for Lent 4

Here is my reflection for the Urban Abbey, Thunder Bay, from yesterday’s lectionary readings. All passages quoted from the ESV.

Today’s reading from Numbers 21:4-9 tells the story of how, when the Israelites were disobedient and grumbling against God and Moses, serpents were sent amongst them as punishment. Moses made a bronze serpent and placed it on a pole. Whoever looked up and saw the serpent would live. In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus makes an explicit parallel between the bronze serpent and himself, saying, “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” (John 3:14-15) Sometimes we imagine Jesus “lifted up” as a reference to his reigning in glory with the Father, as mentioned in today’s epistle reading, Ephesians 2:6, where St Paul says that God “raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.”

But in John 3, Jesus is speaking of his own death on the cross. We must look to the cross to be saved, just as the Israelites looked to the serpent to be saved. The people of Israel, as the book of Numbers tells us, were dying—in fact, many of them had died by the time Moses made the bronze serpent. They were dying from their own disobedience. But God, in his boundless mercy, also provided them a way out. All they needed to do was trust in him and look to the bronze serpent.

As we read in today’s Ephesians reading, “And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked.” (Ephesians 2:1) But God did not leave us in our spiritual death. In his mercy, by his grace, he “made us alive together with Christ” (Ephesians 2:5). We simply need faith; that is to say, all we need to do is trust in God and look to the cross. As we read later in the Ephesians passage, it is faith, not works, that enables us to grasp hold of the famous, wonderful promise of John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” No matter how morally upright we are, no matter how many “charitable deeds” we perform, no matter how righteously we spend our money, no matter how much we pray, none of this will be what saves us and places us in a right relationship with God. It entirely by God’s grace that we are saved.

Many today will essentially stop there. We are saved by grace through faith, as Ephesians 2:8 teaches us. By “saved”, we usually mean “justified”—that we are saved from the penalty of sin and that we are enabled to enter into a right relationship with God. This is a truth, and a beautiful truth, and worth meditating on. But I think St Paul has a bigger vision of salvation, and so does St John, let alone Jesus himself. In John 3, Jesus is teaching Nicodemus about the Kingdom of God and how we enter that kingdom through being born again, being born of the Spirit. We enter that kingdom by looking to Christ on the cross, high and lifted up, like that bronze snake in Exodus. And if we start thinking in terms of the Kingdom of God, we start to consider not simply what we are saved from, but what we are saved for.

God’s grace not only snatches us from the fire or, like the string on a tea bag, from the hot water we get ourselves into. It also brings us back to life and empowers us to do good works—St Paul follows his teaching on being saved by grace through faith by immediately saying, “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (Ephesians 2:10) We are citizens of God’s Kingdom, and are meant to live accordingly. But we are not left alone to struggle in the quest for holiness; that would be mere moralism. No, we are given God’s grace to help us live this way. The saved life is the life that grows over time into greater holiness, living according to God’s kingdom, all empowered by God’s grace.

With God all things are possible, as Jesus teaches us in Matthew 19:26. By faith we take hold of the promises of God. His grace comes to us wherever we are, washes us in the blood of Jesus, brings us into a relationship with God (which is how Jesus describes eternal life in John 17:3: knowing God the Holy Trinity). The pathway of Christian discipleship is not looking to the cross and then doing as we please. It is not living morally on our own strength. It is looking the cross and keeping it ever before us—lifted up—and trusting in the power of God to work within us so that we can do those good works that God has already prepared for us.

There is, really, one truly appropriate response to this, and it is to praise God! As our Psalm for today says, “Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures for ever!” (Psalm 107:1) Allow me to close this reflection with some words from St Patrick, the fifth-century missionary to Ireland whose feast we celebrate this coming Wednesday. St Patrick was relatively uneducated and went from slave to missionary by the grace of God, bringing many of the Irish to faith in Jesus Christ, which was the good work God had prepared for him (as Patrick himself says). In his Confession, we read:

I do not know how to provide for the future. But this I know for certain, that before I was brought low, I was like a stone lying deep in the mud. Then he who is powerful came and in his mercy pulled me out, and lifted me up and placed me on the very top of the wall (Psalm 69:15). That is why I must shout aloud in return to the Lord for such great good deeds of his, here and now and forever, which the human mind cannot measure.

Saint of the Week: St. Patrick of Ireland

About ten years ago, one of the many unfunny For Better or for Worse cartoons at least had a bit of a kick to it. A group of Canadian students are sitting in a pub drinking the usual green beer, the pub decked in green with shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day. One wonders what St. Patrick did; another quips that he drove the snakes out of Ireland. What else? Brought Christianity. An Irish friend of theirs approaches, and they ask him what St. Patrick did, besides bringing Christianity to Ireland. His response, ‘Isn’t that enough?’

Indeed. Isn’t bringing Christianity to a dark place enough and more than enough to be celebrated?

I have no doubt St. Patrick would be a bit disappointed at the booze fest his feast has turned into, with green beards and pagan leprechauns everywhere. Still, the bringing of the light of the Gospel into a pagan land is a good thing, is it not?

When we consider the polydaimonic/animist nature of much traditional pagan nature religion from Italy westwards, there is very often an element of fear. We like to romanticise this paganism, imagining these close-to-nature druids and bards who can speak with the very earth and commune with trees. Do not forget farmers who fear forests due to what lurks within, who have a very real fear of mounds due to the metaphysical beings who may dwell therein. If the surviving fairy stories from the period following Christianisation have any resemblance to pre-Christian beliefs, I’ve a feeling the supernatural was not something to be enjoyed but, rather, feared.

When the Inuit of the Central Arctic came to Christ, they found freedom from a world full of spirits seeking to be appeased, a harsh, hostile world with no Great Spirit of the southern First Nations of Canada and the USA. They found eternal security in the person and actions of Jesus Christ, and were thankful for the Anglican and Roman Catholic missionaries who brought this great Good News of freedom to them.

Considering how given over to Christ the Irish were to become following St. Patrick, no doubt they felt the same.

St. Patrick (c. 387-460/493) brought Christianity to Ireland in the early fifth century. He was born six years after the triumph of Nicene Christianity over Arianism at the First Council of Constantinople in 381 and one year after the conversion of St. Augustine of Hippo; he was enslaved seven years before the Roman legions left Britain; the earlier date for his death is one year before Pope Leo I, the later date is 17 years after the fall of the last Roman Emperor in the West. St. Patrick is patristic, a missionary of the Late Antique world.

Having read his Confession (hopefully this link will do the job, let me know if it fails), I’m of the opinion that he was of Romano-British stock; he was certainly from Roman Britain. When he was sixteen, he was captured and sold into slavery in Ireland. Although he made a daring escape, he made the decision to return thither later on and bring the light of Christ to the unconverted beyond the Empire’s borders.

This was the result of a dream:

I saw a man coming, as it were from Ireland. His name was Victoricus, and he carried many letters, and he gave me one of them. I read the heading: “The Voice of the Irish”. As I began the letter, I imagined in that moment that I heard the voice of those very people who were near the wood of Foclut, which is beside the western sea—and they cried out, as with one voice: “We appeal to you, holy servant boy, to come and walk among us. (from the Wikipedia entry)

(There may have been a few Christians lurking in Ireland before Patrick, but I’ve found conflicting dates for the other early Irish saints.)

Patrick went to Ireland and preached, converting and baptising many thousands. He refused all gifts, for salvation is the free gift of God to all who believe. One story that I read somewhere was of a pagan prince upon whose feet Patrick inadvertently leaned with his staff during the baptismal rite. The young man endured the pain and said nothing, believing it to be part of the ceremony — such was their zeal for incorporating themselves into the glorious freedom of Christ’s Gospel as proclaimed by Patrick.

There are also many tales of Patrick’s encounters with Irish priests (druids?), whom he outdid in miracles, and many people whom he exorcised.

His was a mission of preaching and miracles, much like our Lord’s. Much also like that of St. Columba, St. Aidan, and St. Cuthbert in Britain. The power of the Gospel was evident in the life of St. Patrick, saving the people of Ireland not only from captivity to the unclean spirits but also from captivity to the unclean spirit of each person’s own sinful soul.

Shall we bring this Gospel of love and light to our neighbours? Shall we help cleanse their lives from the snakes of sin and fear?