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?

Resurrecting, Refreshing, and Rebranding

 Changes Coming to the Master Beadsman

Wow...

It's been far too long since I've written anything. I don't know if anyone is reading this blog any more, but if you are, thank you for sticking with me.

I wanted to let you know that, in an effort to resurrect and rebrand this blog, there are going to be some changes to "The Master Beadsman" over the coming weeks.

You may have noticed one of these changes already: rebranding. I've changed the name of the blog from "The Master Beadsman" to "That Eastern Catholic Guy," and given "The Master Beadsman" it's own page within the blog.

Why am I doing this?

Over the years that I haven't been writing, I've been reading and researching extensively, and listening in on various online and offline conversations. I've discovered there are many Catholics (and non-Catholics) out there who don't really have even an introductory knowledge of Eastern Catholicism and what we're all about. So, in addition to continuing to writing about Eastern Catholic spirituality (better "spiritualities"), I wanted to start writing general topics within Eastern Catholicism.

We'll get there eventually, but first...

Coming in 2021...

Beginning in January of 2021 I'll be creating a new series on this blog. The series is called A Year with the Desert Fathers.

2020 has been a difficult year for all of us, I know. What's affected me the most has been all the bad news: pandemics, the elections (always a stressful time regardless of an election's outcome), riots, scandal in the Church at the highest levels... You name it. Several times throughout the year I've had to remove myself from staying up-to-date on my various news sources because I found it wasn't good for my spiritual health.

During my first extended "news fast" toward the beginning of 2020, I read extensively in the Desert Fathers.

About five or six years ago my parish priest asked me to teach a class in our parish about Eastern Christian spirituality. I enthusiastically said "yes," but told him I needed to research further into a more Maronite approach to spirituality (as with Western Catholic spirituality, Eastern Catholics spirituality isn't homogenous, but quite diverse). Knowing that we Maronites claim the Desert tradition as our spiritual roots, that led me to the Desert Fathers.

I've been consistently reading the lives and sayings of the Desert Fathers ever since.

What I've found is that, once you sift through the more obscure sayings and the sayings that only apply to the monastic life, they have a great deal of wisdom to share with those of us living in the world - whether you're a single lay person, married with children, or a parish priest busy tending to the needs of your community.

A Year with the Desert Fathers

So what is this going to be all about?

Apart from reading the Scriptures and the Catechism, I decided that I want to spend 2021 just reading the Desert Fathers for my spiritual reading, spending a whole year immersing myself in their wisdom and sharing that wisdom with others.

This new series is simply a way for me to share what I learn.

Once a week I'll write a new post sharing my reflections on what I've learned and how I think it can apply to our lives in the modern world.

As the year goes on, I may refine the series a bit, but that's going to be the gist of it.

What sources am I going to use?

The first source I'll be working through is a two-volume series called The Paradise of the Holy Fathers. Translated from Syriac by E. A. Wallace Budge, this series is actually a collections of multiple works: The Life of St. Antony by St. Athanasius, the Lausiac Histories by Palladius, A History of the Monks of Egypt, and various collections of sayings and other works.

Supposedly Coptic monks used to say that the only spiritual reading a monk needed to have with him to grow on the path of salvation was the Bible and The Paradise of the Holy Fathers.

Since I've already read The Paradise a couple of times, I thought that would be the best place to start.

From there I have a number of other collections of sayings, as well as the homilies of (pseudo)Macarius that I thought we could tap into. And I'd like to close out 2021 with a series of reflections on the Mystic Treatises of St. Isaac (the Syrian) of Nineveh.

I'm really excited to kick off this new series, and I hope you'll join me in reflecting on the wisdom of the Desert Fathers, especially in these turbulent times.

Peace and Blessings!

God in My Coffee

It never ceases to amaze me how God reveals Himself during the most unusual times. My four-year old son loves to help me make my morning coffee. Even better if he can just make it for me himself. By this I mean that he loves to scoop the whole coffee beans into my hand-cranked coffee grinder, and grind the beans up for me. I do the actual brewing.

This morning - after I'd already had one morning cup of joe - he suddenly burst out, "Oh my gosh! I forgot to make your coffee! Daddy, can I make you some coffee?" I wasn't really in the mood for another cup, but I decided to let him go ahead and do his thing. I pulled the coffee beans and grinder down, got him a scoop, and away he went. Then I went off to the bathroom, leaving the door open so I could keep an eye on him and his little 15-month old sister.

The two of them sat there, hovering over the coffee grinder, slowly grinding the beans down. As they were working, I heard my son talking to my daughter, teaching her the art of grinding coffee beans. Of course, he's only four, so his words and method of teaching weren't exactly on point, and it certainly wasn't the greatest use of English grammar I've ever heard. But he certainly managed to make his point and actually did a great job teaching his little sister how to make coffee.

This got me to thinking, isn't this exactly how it is when we talk about God; whether we're talking "high" theology or just about our day-to-day, sometimes mundane contemplative encounters with the Almighty? For as much as folks clamor for precision and clarity when talking theology, ultimately aren't we all just like the four-year old trying to teach his little sister how to grind coffee beans? Our language inevitably falls short, our methods are not perfect, but in the long run we get our point - or rather God's point - across.

What's even more comforting is that our Heavenly Father watches and listens with delight as His children strive to communicate His ways, just like I listened with delight as my "big" boy taught his little sister how daddy likes his coffee made.

This is certainly not an argument against seeking after precision in our theological language. I think, rather, that it's a call to humility. We have to be honest and humble with ourselves when it comes to communicating infinite mystery, the Infinite Mystery. Human language is simply inadequate. We always reach a point where we simply have to let go of our language, and let God take the reigns. We also have to take comfort in the fact that, despite the shortcomings of our ability to communicate the mysteries of God, He still delights in our attempts. To Him be glory forever!

The Ascension and the Heart's Deepest Longing

For Catholics, Eastern and Roman, we now find ourselves between the Feasts of the Ascension and Pentecost; we are at the end of the great season of the Resurrection. I've always experienced the Feast of the Ascension as a sort-of neglected Feast. Traditionally falling on a Thursday, the Roman Catholic Church in the U.S. tends to push the celebration of this Feast to the Sunday following what would traditionally be "Ascension Thursday." I used to scoff at this until the difficulties of adult life prevented me from attending Divine Liturgy on Holy Days that fall in the middle of the work week. Thank God that I can still enter into this Feast through the celebration of the Divine Office.

As I prayed Safro/Morning Prayer for the Feast of the Ascension this past Thursday, it finally dawned on me that this feast is not just about Jesus' ascension to the right hand of the Father in order to prepare a place for us. That's certainly a huge part of the celebration, but I'd never really stopped to absorb what that actually means. This Feast is about the fulfillment of the deepest desires of the human heart! First of all, Jesus ascended in body into heaven! The Feast of the Ascension is, in a very real sense, the completion of our re-creation begun at Jesus' Incarnation. Our full human nature - body, soul and spirit - have been restored to the presence of God, to walking with Him in the cool of Paradise, as we read in Genesis.

Secondly, Jesus has gone to prepare a place for us alongside him. This is the great hope of our Faith; that Jesus Christ, through his Incarnation, Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension, has not only restored our fallen nature, but has transfigured it and brought it to that final destination that we were meant to enter into from the beginning. We are invited to enter into this restoration and transfiguration by participating in the life of Christ through His body, the Church, here on earth.

So we live now in this tension between the "already" and the "not yet." Jesus has "already" restored our fallen nature and elevated it up to the right hand of the Father, but as long as we are in this life we still feel within ourselves the effects of the original fall. As Jesus prepares a place for us in heaven, we are preparing ourselves to enter into that place, to receive that final dwelling. It is our job in this life, according to our Baptism, to put the old man to death in order that we might live in newness of life here on earth, and receive fullness of life after we pass on from this life. In other words, in order to prepare ourselves to enter into the heavenly glory that our Lord is preparing for us, we must first daily live out the reality of the Death, Resurrection and Ascension of Christ in our own lives.

In this week between the Feasts of Ascension and Pentecost, I hope to offer at least one further reflection on the tension between the "already" and the "not yet" that is set before us by Jesus' Ascension. In particular, I want to show how - at least for the Maronite tradition - this Feast reveals to us the deepest longing of our hearts, as well as the path to obtaining/receiving that deepest longing through faith, hope, the mercy of God, and the consolation of the Holy Spirit.

Until then, let's reflect on the words of the Proemion of the Hoosoyo for Safro/Morning Prayer:

"Praise, glory and honor to the One who descended into the
depths of the earth
in order to raise us to the heights of heaven.
He clothed our corruptible bodies with incorruptibility
and our mortal bodies with immortality..." (emphasis mine)

And in the words of one of my favorite prayers from the Holy Qurbono/Mass:

"You have united, O Lord, your divinity with our humanity, and our humanity with your divinity. Your life with our mortality, and our mortality with your life. You have assumed what is ours and given us what is yours, for the life and salvation of our souls..."

Submission, Obedience and the Spiritual Elder

One of the defining characteristics of Eastern Christian spirituality is the need for/emphasis on having a spiritual father or mother; someone to guide us on the path of the spiritual life. For those of us who dive deeply into the mystical writings of the Christian East, I think it's only natural that we should desire to find such a spiritual guide to whom we can submit ourselves in obedience. I certainly appreciate this desire and absolutely agree with it for folks still living a single life, celibate parish priests, and above all for monastics. However, I question whether or not married couples should be seeking a "traditional" form of spiritual guide - and perhaps here even "traditional" isn't the right word because, as I think we'll find, there is another path that is just as ancient but less spoken of. Allow me to explain.

As I examine the writings of the great Eastern mystics, particularly the Desert Fathers, one of the primary reasons I've found that they encourage having a spiritual guide is that we all need someone to submit ourselves to in obedience. Why? Because we're all plagued by self-will. We want what we want and we want it now regardless of whether or not it's actually for our own good. Even when we have the best of intentions for our spiritual growth, often what we desire is not actually for our good, but an indulgence of our self-well. We often don't see things, especially ourselves, the way they really are. I may wish to pray for eight hours a day. That amount of time in prayer is obviously good... for those who have been given that vocation. But if I, as a husband and father, were to spend that much time a day in prayer, I'd be neglecting the calling that I've received from God to be a holy husband and father. I'd be neglecting the physical, emotional and spiritual needs of my wife and children. Not good.

So we all need someone to help us break that self-will. We all need someone to whom we can submit in obedience. For monastics, many of whom spend a great deal of time alone, this "someone" comes primarily in the form of a spiritual father or mother. I say primarily because often, while having a spiritual father or mother, the Desert Fathers would often turn to other elders as well for a different perspective on issues than what their spiritual father would give them; and often the spiritual father himself would send his children to another elder who could provide more insight into certain issues than he himself was able to provide. We can see here the importance of community.

In truth, the vocation to marriage has this "someone" built in. St. Paul tells us in Ephesians, "Be subordinate to one another out of reverence for Christ (other translations have "submit yourselves to one another..." the point is this is a free submission of the self to another, of the spouses to one another). Wives should be subordinate to your husbands as to the Lord... (notice here that St. Paul is just telling the wives again what he told both spouses to do in the last sentence!) Husbands, love your wives even as Christ loved the Church and handed himself over for her..." (husbands, are you dying to your self-will the way Christ himself died for the love of his bride: "Father, not as I will, but as you will...") Ultimately this mutual submission of husbands and wives to one another, this obedience that they freely give to one another, is a crushing of our own self-will. The primary purpose of the spiritual father or mother is built directly into the vocation of marriage! That should take some pressure off for finding the venerated geron to guide you in obedience!

This being said, as witnessed by the Desert Fathers, it's still good to get other perspectives. It's good to have spiritual friends, and even a wise spiritual guide to walk the path with you. It's good to have someone to whom you can turn to get another perspective. My wife is always encouraging me to go and visit a priest-friend of mine whom I do consider my spiritual father. Why? Because she knows when I'm having difficulties in certain areas of life, he can give me a different perspective that will resonate more deeply in me than anything she could say. She also knows that he has greater experience in some areas of life than she does herself.

Is this path of obedience easy? Absolutely not. Whether you're submitting yourself to a spouse or a spiritual father or mother, the road of obedience is one of the most difficult you will ever walk. But then again, the road Christ tread from Jerusalem to Calvary was the most difficult road that anyone in history ever walked. In the end, that road leads to the joy of the Resurrection. May heaven consume us.

The Christian Calling

I realize it has been quite some time since I've written or posted anything on this blog. To anyone who has been anxiously awaiting, I apologize. Over the last six months or so I have been brainstorming over what direction I want to take this blog. Obviously, the blog itself is dedicated to spirituality according to the Eastern Christian tradition - particularly how it is expressed through the Jesus Prayer. However, I've been struggling to figure out what that means for those of us who have a non-monastic vocation.

I've often heard it said that "Eastern Christian spirituality is monastic." Essentially meaning that the closer a non-monastic's spirituality mirrors monastic spirituality, the better. Monasticism, in this sense, is held up as the ideal vocation to which all Christians ought to strive. Those of us who choose non-monastic vocations are left feeling like we chose a lesser of two vocations; like somehow we're not living the Christian/Gospel life to its fullest. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I came to realize that the reason many people think that Eastern Christian spirituality is inherently monastic (by the way, one could say the same of Western/Roman Catholic spirituality) is because all of the literature on spirituality in the East was written by monastics, and the vast majority of it was written with monastics as their primary audience. We get glimpses, however, of non-monastic spirituality when we look closely at a few different texts: St. John Chrysostom's writings on marriage, St. Theophan the Recluse's letters to a young noblewoman found in the book The Spiritual Life and How to be Attuned to It, and even The Way of the Pilgrim. Although I haven't yet had the opportunity to read the book, my guess is that Paul Evdokimov's book The Sacrament of Love will give us a penetrating look into non-monastic spirituality in the Eastern Christian tradition.

There are, of course, similarities between monastic and non-monastic vocations and spirituality. Like St. Therese of Lisieux wisely pointed out, the Christian vocation is to love. Love requires self-emptying, self-sacrifice, purification from the passions. Only when we are free from our selfish desires are we truly free to love. Love requires that we follow Christ in his kenosis, that we take up our Cross daily. St. Paul tells us to "live in a manner worthy of the call you have received" (Eph. 4:1). This, of course, can be interpreted in the broad sense of living in a manner worthy of the Christian vocation - the call to decrease so that Christ might increase in us and radiate to others through our lives. But to this broad, general sense can be added a more specific sense of personal vocation. How do we live the general Christian vocation in the unique personal vocation/calling that I have received?

To use more "Eastern" terminology, St. Isaac the Syrian tells us in his 74th homily, "This life has been given to you for repentance, do not squander it in vain living." Essentially he is saying the same thing here that was said above. Repentance is not about beating our breast in guilt and saying "woe is me. I'm such a sinner." Repentance recognizes sin and the passions that dwell within us, of course. But it goes beyond that to challenge us to change our ways. To turn from the old man and be clothed in the new! To cast of the mind of the world and put on the mind of Christ! Essentially repentance is the call to self-emptying, kenosis, so that we may be filled with Christ. It is the call to empty ourselves of our passions, sinfulness and sinful inclinations, and everything that keeps us from living "in a manner worthy of the call" we have received. It is a call to reject that which keeps us from living life to its fullest.

The unique vocation to which each individual is called is the arena in which he will work out this self-emptying in order to be filled with the love of Christ, the power of the Holy Spirit. If I am called to monasticism, that is where I will live out the general Christian calling in my life. If I am called to marriage, that is where I will experience the best opportunities to practice self-emptying love and be filled with the Holy Spirit.

These are themes that I would like to continue to explore moving forward. In doing so, I hope I remain faithful to the tradition that has been passed down to Eastern Christians for generations. In particular I hope to remain faithful to my own Maronite-Syriac tradition. May heaven consume us.