There is an Old
English poem called “The Wanderer”[1]
dating from somewhere around the 6th or 7th century that
I find quite moving. The poet writes long after a disastrous battle. The lord
and leader of the comitatus has been
slain along with most of his followers, save for one young warrior who is cast
adrift wandering lonely over the sundering seas. The comitatus is a warband, a brotherhood of warriors whose love and
loyalty is focused on their lord who in turn rewards them with gifts, and a
sense of belonging and purpose. [A Benedictine Chapter is a comitatus, a holy warband under the Lord
and Leader Jesus Christ who was slain for us and has risen from the dead.] The
intensity of the bond that binds the comitatus
together is
Our minds must
be stronger, our hearts
Braver, our
courage higher, as our numbers
Shrink. Here
they slew our earl
And he lies in
the dust. Whoever longs
To run from this
field will always regret it.
I’m old. I want
no other life.
I only want to
lie beside my lord,
Near Brytnoth,
who I loved so well.
The wanderer,
filled with grief, “follows the frost-cold foam . . . sailing endlessly,
aimlessly in exile,” looking for a home, for a new lord, for a new warband to
belong to and give his life meaning. In poignant words he expresses his grief and
longing,
Kiss and embrace
him, bend my hands
And head to his
knee, kneeling as though
He still sat
enthroned, ruling his thanes.
And I open my
eyes, embracing the air,
And see the
brown sea-billows heave,
See the sea
birds bathe, spreading
Their
white-feathered wings, watch the frost
and the hail and
snow. And heavy in heart
I long for my
lord, alone and unloved.”
There are many
in the Church who are wandering today, lost and alone, adrift on the sundering
seas. They have lost the church of their youth and they are filled with grief
and longing, looking for a home, a comitatus,
and a stable leader who will not be tossed to and fro by the stormy winds of
the times. What is tragic is that while the church splits apart there are those
who are dismembering the church by the failure to embrace what has been
believed always, everywhere, and by all, and are busy suing those they have
driven away.
There is a
recourse for our predicament in the very nature of the comitatus. One of the saints said, “Militia probat Christianum …The
warring one is the Christian.” [2]
Warfare is a necessary part of Christian life, but it is perilous to strike out
alone by yourself on the perilous seas. You may be surprised by the fact that
warfare is a necessary part of Christian life, but consider the situation of
ancient Israel as it struggled to establish its claim over Canaan. In Judges we
find this remarkable assertion, “Now these are the nations that the LORD left, to test
Israel by them, that is, all in Israel who had not experienced all the wars in
Canaan. It was only in order that the generations of the people of Israel might
know war, to teach war to those who had not known it before” (Judges 3:1-2).
Such is the nature of fallen
humankind that we really don’t learn much without the stimulus of conflict. The
problem usually lies in how we feel about the conflicts that so often surround
us. It here that the quality of our faith is revealed, and it is here that we
can find our growing edge if only we will. It is precisely here that the genius
of David is revealed as he prays, “Blessed be the LORD, my rock, who trains my
hands for war, and my fingers for battle; he is my steadfast love and my
fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield and he in whom I take
refuge, who subdues peoples under me (Psalm 144:1-2).
There is a hidden danger that
needs to be recognized. Sometimes we get so used to conflict that we see it even
where it is not, or perhaps even produce conflict where it doesn’t exist. In
all moments of fear hear the words of Jesus as he says so frequently, “Fear
not!” Conflict real or imagined calls for fresh surrender to the God who
redeems our human experience.
The Church, as comitatus,
is broader and deeper than the warband lost by the Wanderer; as even the
Wanderer himself was aware. At the end
of his poem he prays,
It’s good to
guard your faith,
nor let your
grief come forth
Until it cannot
call
For help, nor
help but heed
The path you’ve
placed before it.
It’s good to
find your grace
In God, the
heavenly rock
Where rests our
every hope.
The Wanderer
bids us not to let our grief overpower us so that we cannot call for help, but
instead he bids us to place our faith in God our heavenly rock. There is a
proverb that says, “a man without self-control is like a city broken into and
left without walls” (Proverbs 25:28). While it is occasionally helpful to share
our griefs and burdens with each other, as Christians we are called by grace,
through faith, to rule our emotions, not to let our emotions rule us.
Unlike the
predicament of the Wanderer we have some realistic options for fellowship. One
of those options is the possibility of making an Oblation of one’s life in an
abbey or monastery of the Order of St. Benedict; or here in the Dallas area the
option of joining our own Chapter of Oblates and Companions of St. Benedict and
St. Scholastica that meets at St. Matthew’s Cathedral once a month. An Oblate
Chapter is a comitatus, a small holy warband
sailing on the seas of life.
Whether you are
an Oblate or Companion, or just an interested friend you have the opportunity
to live by a simple Rule of Life. A Benedictine Rule of Life reminds us to pray
the Daily Offices, to practice the awareness of the perpetual Presence of God,
and to gather with the Church in frequent Eucharist. The Daily Offices include
Morning and Evening Prayer from The Book of Common Prayer. Even praying just
one office a day will add great stability to your life.
There is a
distinct benefit in affiliating with an ancient comitatus that goes back for centuries; a fellowship that was
foundational in the beginning of the Anglican Communion. After all, St.
Augustine of Canterbury was a monk of the Order of St. Benedict. That ancient comitatus provides us with a double
anchor for our lives with one anchor firmly in the ancient Anglican Communion
and the other in the Order of St. Benedict.
Even in the
midst of the stress of these days do not sell the Anglican Communion short. It
may end up redefining itself, but it has done that before. The theologian Karl
Barth reminds us that one of God’s miracles is that the Church still survives.
The Anglican Communion has been around for centuries and throughout the
centuries it has had its times of struggle as well as its seasons of unbroken
peace. Frankly the problems of this day in the life of the church are pale in
comparison with the antics of Cardinal Wolsey who was the almoner for Henry
VIII. When you get worried over whether or not the Church will survive, read a
little Church History; it’s quite refreshing.
The stuff that’s
going on will eventually go by. As long as you are firmly grounded in the faith
and history of the Church, and as long as you maintain your stability in the comitatus as an Oblate of the Order of
St. Benedict, you will be secure.
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