The Order of the Co-Inherence

Charles Williams, from The Descent of the Dove:

"At the beginning of life in the natural order is an act of substitution and co-inherence.  A man can have no child unless his seed is received and carried by a woman; a woman can have no child unless she receive and carries the seed of a man – literally bearing the burden.  It is not only a mutual act; it is a mutual act of substitution.  The child itself for nine months co-inheres in its mother; there is no human creature that has not sprung from such a period of an interior growth."[1]

And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus.  He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David,  and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."  And Mary said to the angel, "How will this be, since I am a virgin?"  And the angel answered her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy- the Son of God.  And behold, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren.  For nothing will be impossible with God."  And Mary said, "Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word." And the angel departed from her. [2]

Had he willed, he could presumably have raised for his Incarnation a body in some other way than he chose.  But he preferred to shape himself within the womb, to become hereditary, to own to humanity the flesh that he divinitized by the same principle – “not by conversion of the Godhead into flesh, but by taking of the manhood into God.”  By an act of substitution he reconciled the natural world of the kingdom of heaven, sensuality with substance.  He restored substitution and co-inherence everywhere; up and down the ladder of that great substitution all our lesser substitutions run; within that sublime do-inherence all our lesser co-inherences inhere.[3]

It is the manner of childbirth.  It is the image everywhere of supernatural charity.”  It is also the bedrock of intercessory prayer when in a very real way, like Moses of old, we stand in the breach for others, “Therefore he said he would destroy them- had not Moses, his chosen one, stood in the breach before him, to turn away his wrath from destroying them”[4]  thus fulfilling the divine command, “Bear one another’s burdens.”[5]

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[1] Charles Williams, The Descent of the Dove, (Vancouver: Regent College Publishing, 1939), p. 234

[2] Luke 1:31-39

[3] Williams, p. 235

[4] Ps. 106:23

[5] Galatians 6:2

Are You At Peace?

                                                                                     

Are you at peace? Peace is a quality of life long sought after and too seldom found. One of the ancient names of God is “Yahweh Shalom”. It means “The Lord is Peace!” Peace is not a quality that can be squeezed out of human circumstances, nor conjured up by finite and mortal minds. Peace is not merely the absence of conflict, but rather it is a quality of life that emanates from God Himself. Peace is not bovine placidity. Peace is the tranquillity of spirit that rests upon the Rock the never moves.

Isaiah the prophet says, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee: because he trusteth in Thee” (Isaiah 26:3). Peace comes from relationship with the God of peace. Peace comes from resting in Him who is Peace Itself.

Several things destroy peace. An unwillingness to forgive, or an unwillingness to love either yourself or another, stand out as peace breakers. Fear, guilt, and control issues also block the entrance of peace. The first step towards resting in the God Who is Peace often starts with the action of surrender, the willingness to let go, to relax, to let drop, to be still. “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

Experience teaches us that such surrender is often beyond our grasp, but experience also teaches us that when we crack open the doors of our hearts and say to Him, “You know I am not willing, but I am willing to be willing”, that the miracle of inner healing begins. It is a principle of Divine grace and love, that He comes down to our level and meets us where we are, not where we think we ought to be. That in a very real sense is why the Living God became Incarnate in the flesh of humankind.

The classic Anglican understanding of true peace, true tranquillity of spirit, rests on a three-fold foundation: The Daily Offices (Morning and Evening Prayer in the Book of Common Prayer), Habitual Recollection (The practice of the presence of God, and informal prayers), and faithful attendance at Holy Eucharist. Peace is an acquired grace that comes from a spiritual orientation carried into action in prayer and worship. When you are intentionally with the God of peace, peace will be yours. Peace is a grace from God that comes as the fruit of spiritual discipline.

Our desire is often for instant results: “I want peace, and I want it right now!” Peace doesn't often come that way, rather it is born and nurtured in our hearts. There is a necessary process. We become at least willing to forgive, and willing to love, even though for the life of us we can’t artificially drum up either forgiveness or willingness. We begin to pray and read Scripture, at least taking on ourselves one of the Daily Offices; and we persist day after day in humble, quiet discipline. The process is much like planting a seed; once planted don’t keep pulling it up to see if roots are developing. Plant the Offices within your soul and water with persistence, keeping your soul in the light of the Word. Peace most often steals upon us unawares. Looking back we say with some small surprise, “Well, well, it seems I have been at peace now for some while. So quiet is the coming of peace. Would you expect it to be any other way?

Let me invite you to think! Some Christians don’t like to think, but to me that is like trying to sleep in short-sheeted bed. My own observation is that we first encounter God; then we begin to understand Him. It is the process of understanding Him, and consequently understanding myself and others, that fascinates me; what Anselm would refer to as “de ratione fidei” thinking something out for oneself in prayer. Anselm’s Monologion “supplies a method of harmonizing faith with reason. The subject of the discourse, as (Martin) Rule points out, is not the reason of faith but the being of God; this is first affirmed by faith and then subjected to the method—de ratione fidei—of thinking something out for oneself in prayer: credo ut intelligam.

In the Prosologion Anselm says, “I seek not, O Lord, to search out Thy depth, but I desire in some measure to understand Thy truth, which my heart believeth and loveth. Nor do I seek to understand that I may believe, but I believe that I may understand. For this too I believe, that unless I first believe, I shall not understand.” (Martin Thornton: English Spirituality, [1963, Published in the U. S. A. by Cowley Publications], p. 157, 158. Half a century ago a college friend of mine referred to some of the young Christians in our Christian college as “spiritual dwarfs;” thus causing an uproar of protest. Retrospectively he was right, the Church has many spiritual dwarfs who accept the tenets of faith but don’t like to think about them. ~ Dom Anselm, Oblate OSB

Reflections on the Interior Castle

Leeds Castle, Kent, England

The great mystery of Christian life is that we are the temple of the Holy Spirit and through the gift of the Spirit the Father and the Son come to us and make their home within us. That is not only as an objective fact based on Holy Scripture and the doctrine of the Church, but also a fact that is meant to be experienced subjectively in our personal experience in real time.

The Quaker Thomas Kelly wrote “Deep within us all there is an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul, a holy place a Divine Center, a speaking Voice, to which may continuously return.  Eternity is at our hearts, pressing upon our time-torn lives, warming us with intimations of an astounding destiny, calling us home unto Itself.”   That Light is Christ Jesus our Lord.  He is the light of the world.

In her book The Interior Castle, Teresa of Avila tells us, “I began to think of the soul as if it were a castle made of a single diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are mansions.”   She goes on to say, “In speaking of the soul we must always think of it as spacious, ample and lofty; and this can be done without the least exaggeration, for the soul’s capacity is much greater than we can realize, and this Sun, Which is in the palace, reaches every part of it.”

However not every soul is a glorious castle.   With its central dwelling place and surrounding rooms the medieval castle is an image of the interior life; but what of the ruined castle with its crumbling stairs and battlements and all of its wooden floors long since rotted out?  Evelyn Underhill remarks, “Some souls, like some people, can be slummy anywhere.  There is always a raucous and uncontrolled voice ascending from the basement, and a pail of dirty water at the foot of the stairs.”

The first order of business with the soul is housecleaning.  John testifies, “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.  If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

We come to the door of the castle through the grace of forgiveness and our acceptance of Jesus Christ as our Saviour and Lord.  That is only safe way to approach the door.  Teresa tells us, “As far as I can understand, the door of entry into this castle is prayer and meditation.” 

If we are going to enter through the door we have to actually approach the door.  Prayer, to be prayer at all must be both conscious and intentional.  Teresa says,  “If a person does not think Whom he is addressing, and what he is asking for, and who it is that is that is asking and of Whom he is asking it, I do not consider that he is praying at all even though he may be constantly moving his lips.”   St. Benedict tells us, “Whenever we want to ask some favour of a powerful man, we do it humbly and respectfully for fear of presumption.  How much more important, then, to lay our petitions before the Lord God of all things with the utmost humility and sincere devotion?”  

There is in St. Teresa a fusion of awe and familiarity with her Lord.  She refers to her Lord as “His Majesty,” and at the same time refers to Him as “the Beloved.”  Too often in prayer we strive to reach that place of warm familiarity and intimacy without realizing that holy awe is an absolute necessity; and those who shy away from holy awe do not in truth recognize the God they seek to approach.  Teresa tells us that if we do not recognize the person we are addressing we are not praying, just moving our lips. 

That acknowledgment of awe runs through all of the Psalms and is a fundamental part of prayer.  It is not just a sense of awe in relationship with God in Trinity in Unity, or even a sense of awe in God the Father alone.  We are particularly prone to sentimentalize our relationship with Jesus, but of the awesome Christ the Psalmist declares;

 Psalm 110   Dixit Dominus (1979 Book of Common Prayer)

1    The Lord said to my Lord, “Sit at my right hand, *

      until I make your enemies your footstool.”

2    The Lord will send the scepter of your power out of Zion, *

      saying, “Rule over your enemies round about you.

3    Princely state has been yours from the day of your birth; *

      in the beauty of holiness have I begotten you,

      like dew from the womb of the morning.”

4    The Lord has sworn and he will not recant: *

      “You are a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek.”

5    The Lord who is at your right hand

      will smite kings in the day of his wrath; *

      he will rule over the nations.

6    He will heap high the corpses; *

      he will smash heads over the wide earth.

7    He will drink from the brook beside the road; *

      therefore he will lift high his head.

Reflections on the Interior Castle

Leeds Castle, Kent, England

The great mystery of Christian life is that we are the temple of the Holy Spirit and through the gift of the Spirit the Father and the Son come to us and make their home within us. That is not only as an objective fact based on Holy Scripture and the doctrine of the Church, but also a fact that is meant to be experienced subjectively in our personal experience in real time.

The Quaker Thomas Kelly wrote “Deep within us all there is an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul, a holy place a Divine Center, a speaking Voice, to which may continuously return.  Eternity is at our hearts, pressing upon our time-torn lives, warming us with intimations of an astounding destiny, calling us home unto Itself.”   That Light is Christ Jesus our Lord.  He is the light of the world.

In her book The Interior Castle, Teresa of Avila tells us, “I began to think of the soul as if it were a castle made of a single diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are mansions.”   She goes on to say, “In speaking of the soul we must always think of it as spacious, ample and lofty; and this can be done without the least exaggeration, for the soul’s capacity is much greater than we can realize, and this Sun, Which is in the palace, reaches every part of it.”

However not every soul is a glorious castle.   With its central dwelling place and surrounding rooms the medieval castle is an image of the interior life; but what of the ruined castle with its crumbling stairs and battlements and all of its wooden floors long since rotted out?  Evelyn Underhill remarks, “Some souls, like some people, can be slummy anywhere.  There is always a raucous and uncontrolled voice ascending from the basement, and a pail of dirty water at the foot of the stairs.”

The first order of business with the soul is housecleaning.  John testifies, “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.  If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

We come to the door of the castle through the grace of forgiveness and our acceptance of Jesus Christ as our Saviour and Lord.  That is only safe way to approach the door.  Teresa tells us, “As far as I can understand, the door of entry into this castle is prayer and meditation.” 

If we are going to enter through the door we have to actually approach the door.  Prayer, to be prayer at all must be both conscious and intentional.  Teresa says,  “If a person does not think Whom he is addressing, and what he is asking for, and who it is that is that is asking and of Whom he is asking it, I do not consider that he is praying at all even though he may be constantly moving his lips.”   St. Benedict tells us, “Whenever we want to ask some favour of a powerful man, we do it humbly and respectfully for fear of presumption.  How much more important, then, to lay our petitions before the Lord God of all things with the utmost humility and sincere devotion?”  

There is in St. Teresa a fusion of awe and familiarity with her Lord.  She refers to her Lord as “His Majesty,” and at the same time refers to Him as “the Beloved.”  Too often in prayer we strive to reach that place of warm familiarity and intimacy without realizing that holy awe is an absolute necessity; and those who shy away from holy awe do not in truth recognize the God they seek to approach.  Teresa tells us that if we do not recognize the person we are addressing we are not praying, just moving our lips. 

That acknowledgment of awe runs through all of the Psalms and is a fundamental part of prayer.  It is not just a sense of awe in relationship with God in Trinity in Unity, or even a sense of awe in God the Father alone.  We are particularly prone to sentimentalize our relationship with Jesus, but of the awesome Christ the Psalmist declares;

Psalm 110   Dixit Dominus (1979 Book of Common Prayer)

1    The Lord said to my Lord, “Sit at my right hand, *

            until I make your enemies your footstool.”

2    The Lord will send the scepter of your power out of Zion, *

            saying, “Rule over your enemies round about you.

3    Princely state has been yours from the day of your birth; *

            in the beauty of holiness have I begotten you,

            like dew from the womb of the morning.”

4    The Lord has sworn and he will not recant: *

            “You are a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek.”

5    The Lord who is at your right hand

      will smite kings in the day of his wrath; *

            he will rule over the nations.

6    He will heap high the corpses; *

            he will smash heads over the wide earth.

7    He will drink from the brook beside the road; *

            therefore he will lift high his head.

The Two Fountains

Teresa of Avila frequently uses the word “consolations” to describe what she terms elsewhere as the Prayer of Quiet.  In the Prayer of Quiet the soul, or the inner person, experiences a marked sense of peace and rest accompanied by delight and pleasure in the Presence of God.

Teresa tells us that the Prayer of Quiet flows from two sources, which by analogy she describes as two fountains each having its own basin.  The basin is the supply of grace, the fountain is the outflow.  She says,

Two large basins can be filled with water in different ways: the water in the one comes from a long distance, by means of numerous conduits, and through human skill; but the other has been constructed at the very source of the water and fills it without making any noise . . . [the former] is produced by meditation.  It reaches us by way of the thoughts; we meditate upon created things and fatigue the understanding; and when at last, by means of our own efforts, it comes, the satisfaction which it brings to the soul fills the basin.[i] 

St. Diodochus of Photiki tells us that, “It is therefore necessary to work upon the soul           forcefully for a while, so that we may come to taste divine love fully and consciously" (2 Cor. 2:4)[ii]

  

This working upon the soul is described by Teresa,

Most of the souls which dwell in the former Mansions already described [she is referring to the first three: Entry through the Gate; The Room of Self-Knowledge, and the illusion of False Security] are familiar with these feelings of devotion, for they labour with the understanding almost continuously, and make use of it in their meditations.  They are right to do this . . . they would do well, however to spend short periods of time in making various acts, and praising God and rejoicing in His goodness and in His being Who He is, and in desiring His honour and glory.  They should do this as well as they can, for it goes a long way towards awakening the will.

St. Benedict also instructs regarding the length of prayers, saying, “”Prayer should be short and pure, unless perhaps it is prolonged under the inspiration of divine grace.”[iii]

Teresa is also sustained by the daily cycle of prayer within the community.  The rhythm of the Hours of Prayer, the frequency of Eucharist, her persistent habit of recollection and her running dialogue with her Lord, weave together a background that stabilizes and balances her life of prayer, and keeps her feet in motion even when her mind is running on disconnect.  She observes the classic threefold way of prayer:  The Daily Offices; Informal Prayer and Habitual Recollection; and Attendance at the Mass. 

She knows from long experience that it is necessary to hold one's soul aloft to God that He may pour His blessing upon it.  I am reminded of a line from a hymn, “I sought the Lord, and afterward I knew he moved my soul to seek him, seeking me; it was not I that found, O Savior true; no, I was found, was found of thee.” [iv]  All is of grace, and in all of our seeking He moves within us drawing us upward.

            While the Daily Offices are the foundation of the life of prayer, the two-fold Prayer of Recollection brings us deeper into that experience that Teresa refers to as “spiritual sweetness.”  This is a two-sided experience.  There are two basins and two fountains.  One is active, the other passive. One is acquired grace, the other infused grace.  Bear in mind that the active side also rests on the gift of grace.  She says, “This spiritual sweetness arises from the actual virtuous work which we perform, and we think that we have acquired it by our own labours.”[v]

            But there comes a break-point when God in His love and grace meets our upward motions.   She refers to Psalm 119:32 “I have run the way of thy commandments, when thou didst enlarge my heart.”[vi]  It is the last phrase that she emphasizes, and refers to in Latin,  Cum Dilatasti cor meum, “when thou didst enlarge my heart.”  As God in his love and grace meets us he enlarges our hearts that we might experience more of his presence.

            It is here that passive recollection begins.  She cautions us not to “think too much, but to love much; do, then, whatever most arouses you love.”[vii]  This is not the time for the Daily Offices, for lengthy prayers, or for active study and meditations, but rather a time for short expressions of love, perhaps for only single words that help us stay within the presence of God.

            This is illustrated by the practice of Lectio Divina.  The four steps of Lectio Divina are Read, Reflect, Respond, and Rest.  The first three steps are active.  One reads the passage through several times listening for what God is saying.  Then one reflects on the meaning of the passage, not exhaustive bible study, but rather just clarifying the meaning of the text.  One then responds to God in prayer regarding what he has said.  All of that is active.  The fourth is passive, and is a form of the Prayer of Recollection.  Having heard God speak, and having responded in prayer, one then simply rests in the presence of God.  This may be for a short period of time, occasionally longer.  In revisiting the dialogue that arises from Lectio Divina the sense of the presence of God frequently returns.  That is one experience of the Prayer of Recollection.

            Our experience of the Prayer of Recollection is both active and passive, but not necessarily orderly.  It is two fountains drawing from two basins.  It is acquired grace and infused grace, by gift the infused grace overwhelming the acquired grace.  Teresa uses the term the Prayer of Quiet at the beginning of the Fourth Mansion and the term the Prayer of Recollection at the end. 

She is not systematic, but rather affective, sharing her experience from the heart, and often going off in tangents, circling around, and finally returning to her subject.  Reading Teresa is like dodgem cars, it is like entering into an exciting conversation, a dialogue, rather than listening to a theological lecture.

---

[i] Teresa of Avila, trans. E. Allison Peers, Interior Castle, (New York: Doubleday, 1989). p.81

[ii] Kallistos Ware, trans. “St. Diodochus of Photiki,” The Philokalia, (London: Faber and Faber, 1979), Vol. 1, p. 289.

[iii] The Rule of St. Benedict, ed. Timothy Fry,  (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1982), Ch. 20, v. 4

[iv] Anonymous

[v] Teresa, p. 73                                                                                                                                            

[vi] KJV

[vii] Teresa, p. 76  

                                                                                                                       

Soul of Christ - Anima Christi - A Commentary

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.

Body of Christ, save me.

Blood of Christ, inebriate me.

Water from the side of Christ, wash me.

Passion of Christ, strengthen me.

O good Jesus, hear me.

Within Thy wounds hide me.

Suffer me not to be separated from Thee.

From the malignant enemy, defend me.

In the hour of my death, call me.

And bid me come to Thee.

That with Thy saints I may praise Thee

Forever and ever. Amen

Anima Christi, sanctifica me.

Corpus Christi, salva me.

Sanguis Christi, inebria me.

Aqua lateris Christi, lava me.

Passio Christi, conforta me.

O bone Jesu, exaudi me.

Intra tua vulnera absconde me.

Ne permittas me separari a te.

Ab hoste maligno defende me.

In hora mortis meae voca me.

Et iube me venire ad te,

Ut cum Sanctis tuis laudem te.

In saecula saeculorum. Amen

This ancient prayer has long been one of my favorite devotional poems, and while its author is unknown it appears in various documents around the end of the fourteenth century.  You will notice just by casual observation that the original Latin form has both a poetic form and rhythm not captured by the English translation, yet the English translation carries well enough the power and inspiration of the original prayer.

Soul of Christ, save me.  Anima Christi, sanctifica me. Do you think in terms of Christ Jesus having a soul?  Of course He does, we’re just not very analytical when we think of Him.  The soul is the interior core of our nature that responds to God, even as Christ Jesus responded to his Father and exulted in the Holy Spirit.  The Council of Chalcedon in 451 A.D. confesses that Jesus Christ is “at once complete in Godhead and complete in manhood, truly God and truly man, consisting also of a reasonable soul and body.”  He is God through and through, and man through and through, He is truly God and He is truly man, and He has a reasonable soul and a body.  If He didn’t He wouldn’t truly be man.  When we pray “Soul of Christ, save me,” we are acknowledging that His suffering on our behalf was not just a suffering of the exterior body, but an agony and dying of the inner man. What an awesome thing He has done for us in giving Himself, soul, blood and body, that we might be reconciled to God.

Body of Christ, save me. Corpus Christi, salva me.  We are now on more familiar terms. The body is a precious thing to us.  I mean our own bodies, and when we suffer in the body it affects not only the physical realm but also the interior person.  He gave His body to be nailed to the tree.  A late medieval poem, the Holy Rood, is written as a memoir of the Cross itself as it recalls the horrifying events:

                                                                        I saw the Lord of the world

                        Boldly rushing to climb upon me

                        And I could neither bend, nor break

                        The word of God. I saw the ground

                        Trembling. I could have crushed them all,

                        And yet I kept myself erect.

                                    The young Hero God/

                                                                        Himself, threw off his garments,

                        Determined and brave. Proud/           

                                                                        in the sight of men He mounted

                        The meanest gallows, to make/          

                                                                        men’s souls eternally free.

                        I trembled as His arms went round me./

                                                                        And still I could not bend,

                        Crash to earth, but had/

                                                                to bear the body of God.[i]

What is captured here is the utter willingness of Jesus Christ the Hero God to die for you and for me.  O, how He loves us so.

Blood of Christ, inebriate me. Sanguis Christi, inebria me. Christ Jesus says to those who would follow him, “Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him”(John 6:56).  Many of his earlier followers said, “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?” (John 6:60b).  But what Jesus is referring to is that deep koinonia, fellowship, intense intimacy between Himself and those who love him and are one with Him.  “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?  Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (I Corinthians 10:16-17).  That is why it is such a grievous thing to break the unity of the body of Christ.  John, the beloved disciple testifies, “that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:3).  There is in this loving union with the Father and the Son an intense intimacy, and intoxication of love priceless beyond all measure.  Drink deeply and be intoxicated with the love of Him who died for you.

Water from the side of Christ, wash me. Aqua lateris Christi, lava me. It was embarrassing for Peter and perhaps for some of the other Apostles to have Jesus lay aside His outer garments, take a towel and tie it around his waste, and begin to wash his disciples feet and dry them with the towel.  Peter cries out, “You shall never wash my feet” (John 13:8).  Jesus responds, “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.”  Surrender yourself and stand under the cleansing stream water and of blood that flows copiously down from the side of the crucified Lover of your soul.  Humble yourself.  Be cleansed.  But not all whose feet are washed are automatically cleansed.  To be washed by the water from the side of Christ is to be truly penitent, surrendered, and aware of both who you are, and Who He is.  It is the Lord God Jesus Christ who seeks to wash you.

Passion of Christ, strengthen me. Passio Christi, conforta me. Let the testimony of St. Paul be your testimony, “I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live . It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.  By faith we acknowledge that we have been crucified with Christ and our life is hid with him in God (Colossians 3:3).  Only in the strength of that can we take seriously to heart the exhortation of James, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds” (James 1:2).  I have discovered the fundamental spiritual truth, that I am shut in so that I cannot escape, that I am a man who has no strength, and that I am helpless.  Initially no-one really wants to go there, but lay your hands to the wood and be one with Him.  After you have died once, or twice, or a dozen times or more, you will discover what a relief it is not to have to control everything.  Carry the yoke with him, His yoke is easy.  His burden is light.  That is when you will say with the Psalmist, “On the day I called, you answered me; my strength of soul you increased” (Psalm 138:3).  Strength is given only to the surrendered heart.

O good Jesus, hear me. O bone Jesu, exaudi me. The petition is warm and personal.  This Christ who surrenders His soul, whose Body was broken, whose Blood was shed, is after all my Jesus.  My friend and my familiar companion.  He has sworn His love to me, and I trust His words, “whoever comes to me I will never cast out” (John 6:37).  He who died for me is alive, He has taken His place at the right hand of the Father and through the gracious ministry of the Holy Spirit, He is with me always.  I am not berift or alone.  He is the Vine, and I am a branch.  O good Jesus, none is good but God alone, and You are my God.  I know that You hear me!

Within Thy wounds hide me. Intra tua vulnera absconde me.  Why should we pray to be hidden within the wounds of Jesus the Christ?  There are three reasons that immediately come to mind; and the first is perhaps the most important.  It is the heart’s desire of the lover of God to see His face, indeed we are commanded to do so.  “You have said, "Seek my face." My heart says to you, "Your face, LORD, do I seek." But like Moses we are faced with a very real obstacle.  Moses says to the Lord, “Please show me your glory,” the Lord replies, “you cannot see my face, for man shall not see me and live.”  But, "behold, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock, and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back, but my face shall not be seen" (Exodus 33:18-23). 

We have lost the sense of reverent awe before the Sovereign and Holy God.  The simple truth is, that in our flesh, we cannot see God, save for being hidden in the cleft of the Rock.  That leads to the second reason; we desire to be hidden in the wounds of Christ Jesus that our sins may be covered, indeed for that purpose he died so that we may be forgiven and reconciled to the Father of Lights.  The third reason has to do with a very simple safety factor.  There is an enemy that pursues our souls (Psalm 143:3) who seeks our very life.  He is a liar and a murderer and desires nothing better than the death of our peace, the death of our joy, the very death of our souls.  Within Thy wounds hide me. Intra tua vulnera absconde me.

Suffer me not to be separated from Thee. Ne permittas me separari a te.  We are in great need to be kept close to our Jesus in these troubled times, From the malignant enemy, defend me. Ab hoste maligno defende me. There was a time when “the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world- he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him” (Revelation 12:9). “Woe to you, O earth and sea, for the devil has come down to you in great wrath, because he knows that his time is short!" (Revelation 12:12  ).  There is a reason to be hidden within the wounds of the Christ.  There is a reason to put on our Holy armour.  There is an Adversary, an Accuser. and that wily one is a schemer, a trickster who never tells the truth except to turn it into a lie. The enemy prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (I Peter 5:8).  You just might be his favorite meal. Stay close to the side of Jesus who is our shield and defender.

In Days of Death and Poetry and Awe[ii]

In days of death and poetry and awe,           

Not in the flesh but in the soul I saw

A scaly thing clutch the dying as he fell

With shrieking curse, midst stench and brimstone smell.

It’s course was rudely stopped by golden wing.

The man sprang free and soaring rose on high.

The roaring demon fell earthward with a cry,

The man released from bonds began to sing.

Christ’s blood had interposed and set him free,

That gracious blood was shed for you and me.

Released from shadowlands we will be,

To stand in light beside a golden sea,

And walk in flesh upon a golden shore,

And with our King rejoice for evermore.

In the hour of my death, call me. In hora mortis meae voca me. There will come a time for each of us when the race will draw close to the goal.  Not only are we called to die now to self-centeredness, we will eventually be called die to our bodies also.  We will take nothing from this life to the next that has not been founded upon the Rock.  At the hour of my, death call me.  And bid me come to Thee. Et iube me venire ad te.  I long to come to Thee.  All the days of my life I have longed to come to Thee.  Before I knew Thee, even when I fled from Thee, I longed to come to Thee.  “Whom have I in heaven but Thee? And there is nothing upon earth that I desire besides Thee” (Psalm 73:25).  But there is more that You give to us, more than we could have dreamed.

That with Thy saints I may praise Thee. Ut cum Sanctis tuis laudem te. So often we have a limited idea of whom we will see in heaven.  Certainly there are some saints of our own from our faithful families and friends who have gone on before. Beyond that a few of the saints from the history of the Church may come to mind. But the roll call of the blessed is more glorious than we could ever imagine.  A hint of the awesome prospect ahead is given in the Letter to the Hebrews, ^“You have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering,  and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect,  and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel” (Hebrews 12:22-24).  

 

Forever and ever. Amen. In saecula saeculorum. Amen.  There we will dwell with blessed for endless ages.  Forever and ever hardly brings into the focus the endless ages rolling down through eternal time.  There we will see “the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  There He will dwell with us, and we will be his people, and God himself will be with us and be our God.  There He will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things will have passed away, and there love and joy will abide forevermore (Rev. 21:2-4).

Amen. Amen. So be it. So be it.

Dom Anselm+ Obl. OSB

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[i] Caedmon? 7th C, “The Holy Rood”, trans. Burton Raffel, Poems and Prose from the Old English, (Yale University Press, 1998), p. 56-57

[ii] Dom Anselm, Sonnets