What Should I Read? Part 2

 

1. Scripture

If you read the lives and sayings of the Desert Fathers, you'll find that they were steeped in Scripture. They read the Scriptures and meditated on them continually. Many of them memorized the Scriptures (I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday!). Most importantly they acted on what they discovered in the Scriptures.

In his spiritual classic, The Life of St. Anthony, St. Athanasius tells the story of how Anthony learned his way of life by reflecting on the example of the Apostles, who abandoned everything to follow Christ, and by applying the words of Christ to his own life:

"If you wish to be perfect, go and sell everything which you have, and give to the poor, and take your cross, and come after me, and there shall be to you treasure in heaven."

For Anthony, that became his call-to-action from Christ. Those words became his mission.

When the Fathers listened to the Scriptures during the liturgical services, or read them in the quiet of their own cells, they listened as though God was speaking directly to them. Again, St. Athanasius says of St. Anthony:

When...he had again entered the church at the time of the reading of the Gospel, he inclined his ear carefully to see what word would come forth for him. (Paradise of the Holy Fathers, vol. 1, pg. 19)

Indeed, after reading through many of the lives and sayings of the Desert Fathers multiple times, I've come to the conclusion that you can't really understand and appreciate them, unless you've first steeped yourself in the Scriptures.

But the Scriptures are often difficult to read, confusing, vague, and in some places downright scandalous (Don't believe me? Read the last few chapters of Judges where a man allows his wife to literally be raped to death, then chops her body up into twelve pieces and sends those pieces throughout Israel).

So how should we - the non-scholarly type who don't read Greek and Hebrew, and can't dedicate our lives to the academic study of the Scriptures - how should we read the Scriptures?

In a talk on the spirituality of St. Therese of Lisieux, Archbishop Fulton Sheen tells a wonderful story. St. Therese had just been appointed sacristan for the convent. She wanted a word from the Lord on how she should approach this new responsibility, so she turned to the Scriptures.

She opened the Scriptures up to Isaiah and began reading...

Now, I don't know if you've ever read Isaiah. It's long. Sixty-six chapters long!

St. Therese read until she was nearly to the end of Isaiah (somewhere in the fifties) before a passage that she knew she could apply to her new responsibilities finally jumped out at her.

Can you imagine the amount of time she must've sat there! And yet she persisted, waiting on the Word of the Lord to speak to her. "She was a true Scripture scholar," Sheen proclaimed at the end of the story. 

You and I don't need a degree to read the Bible and seek to apply it. Sure we may need to consult a good commentary from time to time, but that shouldn't stop us from immersing ourselves in God's word, praying with it, and seeking to apply it to our lives.

What Should I Read? Part 1

 Do you ever wonder what you should read...

There are so many Catholic, Orthodox, and other Christian books out there that it feels like we have endless options for reading materials to help us grow in our faith...

And more are being published every day!

The sheer number of choices we have feels overwhelming.

I often sit at my computer, scroll through Amazon, and salivate at all the new reading material I discover simply by typing "Catholic" or "Orthodox" into the search bar. I create long "Wish Lists" to house books that I can't afford right now, but would like to buy (and read, of course) at some later date.

To be honest, I often buy books with the best of intentions, and then end up never reading them because I've lost interest and moved on to something else. It's a problem that I've had for some years now. I acquire books quickly, pile them up, read only a handful of them, and the rest just sit there until I decide to donate them to my parish library.

One year I tallied up how much money I spent on books in a year, and was quite convicted and ashamed at the number that flashed onto the calculator in front of me (it wasn't a small number). Since then I've worked to be more intentional about what I read, and by extension what books I buy.

Fortunately, praying through the Desert Fathers has helped me with that.

The "Why" of Spiritual Reading

Your spiritual reading has a purpose. When you stay focused on that purpose, it helps you weed out the books that you don't really need to read - and that could actually prove spiritually harmful to read.

What is the purpose of spiritual reading? Here's what St. Athanasius has to say about it in his classic The Life of St. Anthony:

"May our Lord help and strengthen... the reader to read and perform everything which is commanded herein.... that by constant meditation on the following stories your mind may be drawn to perfection, so that you may not be repeating with your mouths only the following triumphs, and others which are like to them, but that also in your persons you may be preachers of the example of these lives and deeds." (Paradise of the Holy Fathers, vol. 1, pg.15)

And further on he says:

"[W]e shall begin to instruct your minds step by step; for the acts of the blessed Anthony form a perfect example for the solitary ascetics. (Paradise, vol. 1, pg. 16) 

 So what's the purpose of spiritual reading?

Inspiration - that your mind (or heart) - i.e. the very core of who you are - may be drawn to perfection.

Imitation - that through your actions - i.e. how you live your life - the light of Christ may shine through you (you may become a preacher of the Gospel).

Later on in The Paradise, when we come to Palladius' Lausiac History, the author goes to great pains to drive home the point that we shouldn't read Scripture, the lives and writings of the saints, and theological treatises simply to satisfy our curiosity or have something to talk about with our uber-Catholic friends (although we should have such friends!). In fact, doing so can be spiritually dangerous because it can lead to pride.

Like St. Athanasius, Palladius encourages his readers:

"Let us emulate their [the saints] example and endeavor to do with all our might what they did!.... I would rouse up our heavy minds to the contemplation of the things which are spiritually excellent, so that we may strive to imitate the most excellent lives and deeds of the pious men." (Paradise, vol. 1, pg. 83)

Again, inspiration and imitation.

Something that's really hit me lately: You can't "read your way to heaven." At some point, you have to start acting on what you read.

With that in mind, what should we be reading?

The Desert Fathers give us an answer, but I'm going to save that for several upcoming posts. Until then here's a suggestion: When you're looking to buy a new book for spiritual reading, ask yourself, "Is this book just to satisfy my curiosity, or is it something that'll inspire me to act?" 

Asceticism vs. Hospitality - Which is Better?

I always love returning to the stories and sayings from the lives of the Desert Fathers. It seems every time I do I get some fresh perspectives and fresh insights on my own journey with the Lord.

Today I'd planned on sharing something completely different than what I'm going to share right now. I had grand plans of writing a killer post about spiritual reading according to the Desert Fathers: it's methods, purpose, and what they recommend.

I'm going to have to save that for another time because it seems the Lord had something else in mind for today.

The best laid plans...

I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel like I'd have a much easier time growing in holiness if I'd joined a monastery instead of deciding to get married. Or perhaps it'd be more accurate to say that, while I can grow in holiness as a married man, I feel like I could've only grown in perfection had I become a monk - sacrificing all possessions and embracing a life of severe ascetic discipline.

I know I'm not alone in feeling this way. I've met plenty of other folks who have expressed, either explicitly or implicitly, similar sentiments. Perhaps you've felt this way yourself.

After all, as a married man with kids, I can't fast to any great extent like a friend of mine who's now a Benedictine monk and only eats once a day, or a Maronite monk I once met who only eats once a day and then only vegetables. I can't keep all-night vigils. The nature of my vocation demands that I have possessions and earn money to support my family. And the chastity to which monks and nuns are called is very different from the chastity to which I am called (it'd actually be a violation of my vocation to attempt to live the type of chastity that monks and nuns are called to live).

So what does this mean? Are we lay people and secular clergy to resign ourselves to a sort of lesser perfection when compared to monks and nuns?

Absolutely not!

We simply need to recognize that our pathway to Christian perfection is different from that of monks and nuns.

How so?

Perhaps this story from The Paradise of the Holy Fathers will help:

The Brothers Paesius and Isaiah

There were once two brothers, Paeisus and Isaiah, whose father was a wealthy merchant. When their father died, the brothers spent several days thinking about what they should to do with their inherited wealth.

They both quickly concluded that they didn't want to continue as merchants like their father. They foresaw the cares, concerns, and troubles that such a life would place on them. So they decided to "acquire the life and conversation of the Christians" so that they might both keep their inherited wealth and also work out their eternal salvation.

Pause...

Notice that they didn't mention immediately that they were going to turn to the monastic life. They simply said that they were going to "acquire the life... of the Christians."

Christian life is supposed to be different. It's supposed to set us apart from the rest of the world. People are supposed to see and know that we are followers of Christ simply by how differently we live our lives. I remember reading in the Catechetical Homilies of St. Cyril of Jerusalem a warning to the catechumens that the life they were embracing as new Christians meant a separation from the life they'd lived in the world up to that point.

Christian life demands conversion, which isn't a feeling of guilt for past sins, but specific action. It means we were once living one way, and now we're living another.

If we're not living our lives radically differently as disciples of Christ, whether we're lay folks or secular clergy, then we're not really living the Christian life to the fullest.

Okay. Let's continue the story...

One of the brothers decided to sell off all his possessions and give the money to churches, monasteries, and the poor. He learned a handicraft that he could use to support himself. Then he spent the rest of his life in prayer, fasting, and other ascetic disciplines.

The other brother gathered small following of like-minded men, built a monastery for them, then used his inheritance to provide for the brethren, care for the poor, and help the sick. The Paradise says:

All strangers and poor folk, and all the aged men and sick folk who thronged to him he used to receive and relieve their wants.

So one brother lead a life of severe ascetic discipline. The other brother led a life of hospitality, practicing what the Catholic Church has come to call the "Corporal Works of Mercy." 

When the two brothers died, an argument broke out among a bunch of local monks and hermits about which of the two brothers led a life of greater perfection. They went to Abba Pambo (another famous Desert Father) and asked him his opinion.

Abba Pambo's response, to me, is remarkable:

They are both perfect. One man made manifest the work of Abraham by his hospitality, and the other the self-denial of Elijah... Again I say to you that both are equal in merit.

These should be comforting words for those of us who are unable to perform great ascetic labors.

Where does this leave us?

I've become more and more convinced that, as lay people, it's not our calling to attempt great ascetic labors. 

Oh of course, we are all called to practice a certain level of asceticism. That's why the Church breaks up the liturgical year with seasons like Lent and Advent - seasons that are traditionally times of intense focus on ascetical practices. It's also why we're encouraged to practice some sort of ascetic discipline on Fridays (and traditionally on Wednesdays as well).

But the great feats of asceticism are not our calling.

I think our calling is to be perfected through the practice of Christian hospitality after the example of Abraham. We are called to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, care for the sick, visit the imprisoned... as Christ tells us in Matthew's Gospel.

And God knows, those of us who have young kids have plenty of opportunities to practice these works.

So the next time I start to feel down about not being able to fast with great intensity, or pray all night, or get to daily Liturgy, I'm going to change my perspective. 

Maybe instead I'll go change another diaper without complaining or without my wife asking me to. Or I can put clothes on my two-year old who has stripped himself naked (again). Or I can take a meal to a family I know could use one.

The opportunities to practice radical Christian hospitality through the Works of Mercy are endless. How will you grow in perfection by practicing Christian hospitality this week?