the prayer of st. ephrem the syrian, and what's my body got to do with it?

Schmemann continues to describe the Orthodox lenten worship services in his book Great Lent. A couple of things struck me in this section.  First off was Schmemann's connection of repentance with corporate worship.  He says,

The meaning and the spirit of the Great Lent find their first and most important expression in worship (emphasis added).  Not only individuals but the whole Church acquires a penitential spirit ...

My default approach to repentance continues to be individualistic.  The Eastern church has much to teach us regarding corporate repentance.

Schmemann also gives us the text of St. Ephram the Syrian's prayer that is used often throughout the worship services of the Eastern church's Lent observance.

'O Lord and Master of my life, take from me the spirit of sloth, despair, lust of power and idle talk.'

Prostration.

'But give rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience and love to Thy servant.'

Prostration.

'Yea, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own sins and not to judge my brother for Thou art blessed unto ages of ages. Amen'

Prostration.

Then all bow twelve times saying: 'O God cleanse me, a sinner.' and the whole prayer is read again, with one prostration at the end.

Schmemann continues to explain how this prayer offers us the 'simplest and purest expression of repentance in all it's dimensions.' But what really struck me was when Schmemann gives his explanation for all the constant prostrating done by all in worship.  Schmemann tells us that,

The Lenten rules of the Orthodox Church pay great attention to prostrations: through them the body participates in the effort of 'breaking down' our pride and self-satisfaction.

My anthropology is in complete agreement with Schmemann's assumptions here: human beings are not some carved up total that can be broken down to physical + spiritual.  We are, rather, physico-spiritual creatures.  Things that we do physically impact us emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually.

As I say, my assumptions about humanity are in line with Schmemann's here, and yet, curiously, my worship practices have almost nothing in them (save for a few small movements) that would express this belief.  Hmm.

 

after ash wednesday

Last night was the first time I've attended an Ash Wednesday service.  It was an honor and a pleasure to also lead in worship along with the other leaders at Intown.  It was a somber service, and it was quite moving to take part in the liturgy that got repeated over and over and over to each individual who came forward for the impression of ashes:

Son of God, from dust you were formed, to dust you shall return.

Daughet of God, from dust you were formed, to dust you shall return.

Moving out into the city with the sign of death and hope on my forehead was an experience unto itself.

Today, I'm feeling worn.  Adding another service to the week, along with a few other work related things has created the perfect storm of activity, making it difficult to stop. and breathe. and focus.

One of the Sundays of Preparation that the Eastern Orthodox church observes centers around the Final Judgment.  The church remembers those who have passed on before, and by extention each member is reminded of their own impending death.

And after death the judgment.

I have to say, functionally, I feel like I don't believe this hardly at all.  The way I so selfishly and lazily spend my days, it's as if I'll never run out, it's like I think I'll live forever and the only person I'll answer to is myself.

When I stop to consider that I will die and that I will face the One who gave me breath and body and days, I want my life to look drastically different.  But I don't mean that I suddenly want to pray for hours on end and wear Christian t-shirts and hand out tracts that look like $20 bills.  

I do want to pray more.  But I also want to learn a foreign language.  I want to take more photographs.  I want to stay up late drinking wine with my wife talking about all sorts of things. I want to befriend people that society tells me I have no business being friends with.  I want to work harder and rest harder. I want to understand how a flower blooms.

I think I want to be more like Jesus.  The Man of Sorrows was also the Drunken Messiah.  The homeless itenerant preacher, who spoke often about God's judgment, was also a great dinner guest, a great partier.

Strangely, I think that only when I really sober up will I be able to truly enjoy the party.  As Schmemann says, Lent is the great school of repentance.  It's the great school of sobering up, the great school of contemplating my own death, and in some backwards way, as it leads me to Easter, it is the school of enjoying the party.

a school of repentance

I've been neglecting my writing for too long, so as a way of return, I've decided to do some free-thought Lenten writing using Alexander Schmemann's The Great Lent: A School of Repentance (which is currently free on Kindle) as a guide to my own thinking process.

He begins his book thusly, 

Brethren, while fasting bodily, let us also fast spiritually; let us loosen every bond of injustice; let us destroy the strong fetters of violence; let us tear up every unjust writing; let us give bread to the hungry and let us welcome the homeless poor to our houses, that from Christ our God we may receive the great mercy.

Schmemann then goes on to describe the meaning and intention behind the Sundays of Preparation. I must say, given my baptisty (read: anti-Catholic) upbringing, my newfound appreciation for the Church calendar still did not prepare me for a three week "pre-Lent" period (I mean, come on, isn't 40 days of feeling bad about stuff enough?)!  Needless to say, I did not observe the Sundays of Preparation this year, but hope to include them in my own personal observances next year if not incorporate them into the liturgies of my community.

First of all the practicalities: last year I gave up Facebook for Lent and it was great!  So great, that I still have yet to reopen my account.  This year I'm giving up refined sugar (sorry, Details Pharisees, I'm not going to be spending much time hunting labels for sugar's many cousins.  The general idea is rather to give up sweets and the obviously-sugared), and my wife and I are giving up evening-tv.

As I've been pondering and writing for our Ash Wednesday service this evening, I think the thing that is striking me the hardest as Lent begins is my own lack of remorse over sin, and my lack of acknowledgement of my own frailty.  It's my hope and prayer is that, as painful as the school of repentance will (most likely) turn out to be, I'll arrive at Easter more brokenhearted for my sin, more aware of my own certain death.