St Patrick's Breastplate

Every time I read this hymn, commonly attributed to St. Patrick (but probably written later, in the 8th Century), I get shivers. The language is so fierce, so aware of wind, earth, darkness and strangers. It's a prayer for preparation on a journey, copying the Druidic style of an incantation.

It's been put to music and here's a nice version.

(NB: A long hymn, but worth the effort!)

I bind unto myself today
The strong name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.

I bind this day to me for ever,
By power of faith, Christ's Incarnation;
His baptism in the Jordan River;
His death on cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb;
His riding up the heavenly way;
His coming at the day of doom;
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of the Cherubim;
The sweet 'Well done' in judgment hour;
The service of the Seraphim,
Confessors' faith, Apostles' word,
The Patriarchs' prayers, the Prophets' scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord,
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the starlit heaven,
The glorious sun's life-giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea,
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, his shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death-wound and the burning
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the name,
The strong name of the Trinity;
By invocation of the same.
The Three in One, and One in Three,
Of whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
salvation is of Christ the Lord.

Bones to Philosophy, Milk to Faith

Today the Western Christian church celebrates the doctrine of the Trinity: that God is three, yet one. Distinct, yet united, co-eternal, and co-equal.

We've been studying the Trinity in class all semester, but its inner workings still does my head in. Yet we cannot do without it, else our faith falls flat. It scaffolds our understanding of the unique relational Christian God. But it's so confusing, something luminous that is beyond our reason, tho' not irrational.

So I rejoiced in hearing these serpentine lines being read in church today. I echo something of dear ol' John's sentiments: even if I am too stupid to fathom the Trinity, Father, Son and Spirit nevertheless surround me, and invites me to enter into their eternal dance of love, power and joy.

O Blessed glorious Trinity,
Bones to philosophy, but milk to faith,
Which, as wise serpents, diversely
Most slipperiness, yet most entanglings hath,
As you distinguished undistinct
By power, love, knowledge be,
Give me such a self different instinct,
Of these let all me elemented be,
Of power, to love, to know, you unnumbered three.

- John Donne.

New Year's Resolutions

Written around the end of December 2011. But only found today...

**************

I'm quite a grump about New Year's resolutions. I'm realistic about myself, knowing that I am a fey and fickle creature, lazy to the bone, and can barely stop drinking coffee for a week, let alone keep a noble resolution for 365 days.

So I make some silly ones that are easy to keep, and over which I shan't pour scalding regret, if I did break them.

But this New Year's Eve, as I look back over my 20s and look forward to turning 30, seems a good junction to reflect, and ask myself some bigger questions about who I am, and who I would like to become.

I've never been much of a New Year's celebrator (I expend all my anticipation and excitement over Christmas), and I'm rather immune to the shiny excitment of a fresh new year (blank pages, unknown plans etc.) But Chesterton reminds me:

"THE object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective. Unless a man starts on the strange assumption that he has never existed before, it is quite certain that he will never exist afterwards. Unless a man be born again, he shall by no means enter into the Kingdom of Heaven."

-'Daily News.'

And so it seemed providential that this week's sermon at church mentioned Wesley's Covenant. Another local church had this in their weekly bulletin:

"John Wesley adapted a Covenant Prayer for use in services for the Renewal of the believer's Covenant with God. In his Short history of the people called Methodists (1781), Wesley describes the first covenant service; a similar account is to be found in his Journal of the time. Wesley says that the first service was held on Monday 11 August 1755, at the French church at Spitalfields in London, with 1800 people present. The prayer had some of its origins in the puritan, Richard Alleine. Services using the Covenant prayer have been included in most Methodist books of liturgy since. It has become usual to use this at New Year. We will offer the opportunity to pray this prayer today:

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.

(Book of Offices of the British Methodist Church, 1936)."

Perhaps, instead of resolutions, which look to the will and strength of the man or woman to accomplish, we could pray this instead. Every day, for 365 days. And trust that God will work this in us, hourly, daily, for this year, and beyond.

The Spoken Project

My super talented friend and neighbour, Sophie, has started a bold and brilliantly creative venture, called The Spoken Project.

Sophie was formerly a journalist/news reporter in Sydney, before moving down to Melbourne.

Here's what Sophie writes about the aim of her podcasts:

The Spoken Project is about learning through living. It’s about being human. It’s stories that will move your heart, and strengthen your faith.

The first podcast is about Kate, her housemate, who speaks about having an eating disorder.

I listened to it today, while preparing to go out (it's a little over 15 minutes long, so a perfect length!) I loved its honesty, its unpretentiousness, its backing soundtrack - another friend of mine, Sarah, composed the music.

I was humbled by the power of the Story, and warmth of the spoken voice. I was reminded, once again, of the deep, hidden things in each of our lives.

I am in awe of Kate's courage, and yet realise that she's the girl with the wind-blown hair, who I see walking along Brunswick Road, carrying a green Safeway shopping bag.

Kate's story is unique, but she's also someone just like me. And the powerful, redeeming God who has gathered her to him, and whom she loves, is the same one whom I love, and who makes everything new in my life.

The Humanities: A diatribe

A recent post by the admirable and eloquent Terry Eagleton:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/dec/17/death-universities-malaise-tuition-fees?INTCMP=SRCH

has sparked some discussion amongst my facebook friends.

It sent me on a veritable verbal diatribe, some of which I'll replicate here, for your thoughts:

... Much as it pains me to admit it, the nature of the academy/public education, and how they handle the humanities degree (and especially the higher Masters & PhDs) need to change. The university was set up in a completely different culture and designed for a different age; with a different economic imperative, and a particular view of the mind.

Universities need to train "humanists" (for want of a better word. Is moral, critical, creative thinkers/actors a better description?) for the larger world - we want humanistic lawyers, engineers, doctors, street cleaners. We do this by connecting knowledge and skills for a continuously changing world. But currently, doing advanced training in a humanities Masters/PhD relegates the student to no other alternative except academic professorship (not that I have anything against that!). But there are no other jobs that respect someone with training in the humanities.

You can find a good article about this here: http://www.insidehighered.com/views/2010/05/24/krebs

Ultimately, what bothers me, is the dastard vagueness and confusion that characterises most humanities centres/departments. No one is really sure what the POINT of the humanities actually is. Talk to a English professor, a historian, a sociologist, or a lecturer in philosophy, and they will all give you a different answer (or no answer at all!)

To borrow, nay, plagiarise from Alan Jacobs (who got it from someone else), here is the problem in a netshell:

1) The scholarly performance of academic humanists is evaluated — by colleagues, tenure committees, etc. — using criteria developed for evaluating scientists.

2) Those criteria are built around the idea of knowledge creation.

3) But many humanists aren't sure what counts as knowledge creation for them, since they are not able to follow any agreed-upon method for testing hypotheses.

4) This problem grows more pressing as expectations for publication rise: scholars are asked to create more and more knowledge without being sure what knowledge is.

without being sure what knowledge is. Here, is the crux of the problem. We have access to so much information; so much knowledge, so many points of contact, so many articles to read, RSS feeds to subscribe to, that I think we've lost all focus. There is, in addition, no yardstick, no set methodology. (Arguable, this could breed creativity as well as stagnation ...)

Additionally, this is a very knowledge/information-centric way of looking at the world. I wonder what happens when we look at it from the point of view of people - individuals, and communities. The humanistic Arts, in ways which cannot be fathomed nor replicated by the Sciences, shapes the heart, soul and character of a person/people. Incidentally, didn't the Greeks believe that the sole purpose of education was to teach virtues, and to create people who lived the Good Life? (Because virtues, according to the Greeks, led to happiness.)

Most importantly, how do we use, create, imbibe and revel in the knowledge that the humanities give us, in light of it being part of God's creation, and in light of our ultimate aim, to love and know God more?

(It's an exciting, if somewhat trying time, to be a Christian, and part of the humanities).