Conformed to Christ: Spiritual Formation

For many Orthodox Christians spiritual formation is defined practically, if not intentionally, in functional terms: a daily rule of prayer, keeping the fasts, regular attendance at Divine Liturgy and reception of Holy Communion and Holy Confession.  To this might be added the regular reading of Scripture, the Church Fathers and the writings of the saints and contemporary spiritual writers.

Let me first of all say that none of this is wrong. In fact it’s all very good–and especially in the case of the sacraments, essential–to living a wholesome and balanced life in Christ.  Essential practices however are not necessarily sufficient in themselves. To paraphrase St Ignatius of Antioch, it isn’t enough to do Christian things, one must actually BE Christian. Again, this isn’t to deny the necessity of the sacraments, ascetical struggle, daily prayer and the reading of Scripture. It is however to say that these are all means to a particular end.

Self-Knowledge. Spiritual formation is, I would argue, more than just being faithful to good Christian practices; it is about being and becoming Christian, something which is always and necessarily personal. In this context personal is more than just an assertion that I must pray, keep the fast and participate in the sacraments. A personal spiritual life builds on these practices. But spiritual formation requires that we make use of these practices to foster the process of self-discovery, self-acceptance and self-expression of who I am and am called to be in Jesus Christ.

Building on a sound human formation (see here), spiritual formation means coming to know and accept myself in light of the Gospel. While in principle the content of a sound human formation is universal, Christian formation requires my personal commitment to live as a disciple of Christ. This means not only drawing close to Him in prayer and study, but shaping my life around the Gospel and the example of His life. And again this is necessarily personal because while we share a common call and walk a common path, we each of us my respond to that call and walk that path uniquely.

Especially in the preparation of men for holy orders, we neglect to their harm, and the Church’s, the three goals of spiritual formation: self-knowledge, self-acceptance and self-expression in Christ. A priest without accurate self-knowledge will inevitably confuse his own transitory desires—and even his own passions–with the will of God.  In a more positive vein, the primacy of self-knowledge in the spiritual life reflects the anthropological fact that the first revelation of God’s love for me is me. My life, like each human life, is a gift of incalculable value and importance. Each human life is, quite literally, God’s gift to the world.

Far from being the merely functional, “value-free,” examination offered by secular psychotherapy, self-knowledge in Christ is just that, knowing myself in light of the Gospel. This includes not only an awareness of my shortcomings and sinfulness but also (and more fundamentally) the talents and gifts that God has given me uniquely.

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so (Hamlet, Act 2, scene 2).

Shakespeare is saying in his own way what King David says in the Psalms:

 When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,

The moon and the stars, which You have ordained,

What is man that You are mindful of him,

And the son of man that You visit him?

For You have made him a little lower than the angels,

And You have crowned him with glory and honor (Psalm 8:3-5).

David sees all humanity and so himself as a creature. He embraces his own life within the context of creation’s magnificence and the glory of God. Creation as an expression of the Divine Glory also serves as the context for David’s self-knowledge and his knowledge of his neighbor. This wholly positive and appreciative view of humanity does not, as other Psalms make clear, preclude a sharp, and at times even bitter, awareness of human sinfulness–his and mine. But I would argue that it is awe at the work of God which is humanity that is primary for David.

Self-Acceptance. Without this fundamentally positive view of the human person, true repentance is impossible.  Nietzsche, Marx and Freud—modernity’s masters of suspicion—have all ably demonstrated that an awareness of humanity’s moral failings doesn’t require faith in Jesus Christ. The problem of a Freud, a Marx, or a Nietzsche isn’t that they’re wrong but that they aren’t right. They understand human sinfulness as well as, or maybe even better, than most. What they fail to understand is forgiveness. Vice for them is the constant and defining characteristic of humanity and the life of virtue a mere dodge and act of bad faith.

Self-knowledge then must bear fruit of self-acceptance. To merely acknowledge my failures or my abilities is insufficient. I must accept my life as a gift from God and only within that context can I truly understand my own sinfulness. Sober self-acceptance means that while I acknowledge my sinfulness, it is God’s love and mercy for me that sets the dominate tone. While this is important for all human beings, it is critically important for the priest. Simply put, a priest can’t offer what he doesn’t have. A priest who doesn’t know and accept his abilities as well as his limitations, his virtues as well as his vices, and do so in gratitude for God’s mercy and love for him, can’t effectively communicate forgiveness and so can’t credibly call others to repentance. A man who is not a friend of Christ can’t introduce others to Christ as a friend.

This then leads to the third and final element of spiritual formation: self-expression.

Self-Expression. The personality and character of the priest must be a bridge and not an obstacle to faith in Jesus Christ. This means, on the one hand, that the priest relates to others in such a way as to offer evidence of God’s love and mercy for each and every human person. A priest who is harsh or indifferent, to others is as unlikely to draw others to Christ as the priest who is inconsistent or inflexible in his decisions.

At the same time, a priest’s personality or appearance can’t be such that he, rather than Christ, becomes the focus. If a harsh priest will drive others away from Christ, a priest who is overly familiar with others or eccentric in speech or dress will become the message rather than Jesus Christ.  While I am mindful and supportive of the traditional dress of Orthodox clergy, to offer one example, the priest must be mindful that a purely external fidelity is symptomatic of a priest who has succumbed to the temptation of eccentricity and vainglory. The last thing a priest by word or deed should say is “Look at me!” Rather he should say, with St Paul, “Imitate me as I imitate Christ.”

Saying the latter, while avoiding the former, is the fruit not only of a sound spiritual and the personal and moral maturity of a wholesome human formation. It also requires a solid intellectual formation and mastery of the professional skills essential to the pastoral life.

Next up, the intellectual formation of priests.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

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Priestly Formation: A Suite in Four Parts

Being a pastor is more like being a jazz musician than it is being say an engineer. All three of these occupations require a great deal of technical skill to be sure. But the pastor, like the jazz musician, is often called upon to improvise on a theme more than, like the engineer, apply a theory to a problem. This is all to say that pastoral ministry is more art than science.

Over the last 10 years or so I’ve worked with communities in transition. What I’ve notice is that typically problems arise in the parish when someone—it needn’t be the pastor—takes what we might call an engineering approach to the life of the congregation. They have a theory and they are going to fit the community into its framework.

This is also something I see frequently as a spiritual director and confessor. When I talk with people about the different ways they go off track in their prayer lives, at work or with their family and friends the source of their suffering is that life just isn’t working out according to [their] plan. Problems in living arise when life becomes a project to be completed or a problem to be solved and not the other way around. When I lose a living sense of awe in the face of reality, or when I don’t see my life as a mystery to be lived, this is when life becomes a problem. Continue reading

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Young Adult Spiritual Formation and the Family

My earlier post on campus ministry (here) brought some very good responses and questions both on this blog and on Facebook.

One of the questions I was asked is a question I frequently hear. How do we keep our children in the Church? Continue reading

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Adrian van Kaam’s Personality Theory and the Western Intellectual Tradition

This is second of mt four part series on the personality theory of Adrian van Kaam.

Echoing Erik Erikson’s discussion of wisdom, the Catholic priest and psychologist Adrian van Kaam (1987) argues that human life is fundamentally “an intimate participation in an all pervasive mystery of formation and transformation, in commitment to and congeniality with our formation tradition, and where and when possible, in compatibility with the varied ways in which the same mystery may speak to adherents of other traditions in their genuine striving for intimacy with the mystery” (p. 114).  Some might question the appropriateness for psychology of a theological term like mystery.  And yet as K. Rahner (1978) argues “we can never philosophize as though man had not had that experience which is the experience of Christianity.”  Given this historical reality a “philosophy that is absolutely free of theology is not even possible.”  Like philosophy, contemporary psychology arose within the broadly Christian intellectual tradition.  As such, and again like philosophy, the autonomy of psychology “can only consist in the fact that it reflects upon its historical origins and asks whether it sees itself as still bound to these origins in history and in grace as something valid, and whether this self-experience of man can still be experienced today as something valid and binding” (p. 25).

To understand his work, we need to keep in mind that van Kaam is not simply a Christian thinker, but a Catholic thinker.  His use of the term mystery is an example of his dependence (though not in an exclusive fashion) on the Medieval Christian tradition.  He unapologetically identifies his theoretical and practical reliance not only on St. Thomas Aquinas but also others in the Thomistic and transcendental Thomistic schools such as St. John of the Cross, Karl Rahner and Hans Küng as well as phenomenologists such as Stephen Strasser (1983, p. xv).  The difference, as Byrne (1982) argues, is that where the medieval era focused on the (static) “mystery of Being,” van Kaam offers the more dynamic idea of “the mystery of Being-in-formation.” This overarching dynamism, that “the universe, world, history and humanity are always engaged in a process of formation” is the “fundamental perspective or intuition” that underlies van Kaam’s personality theory (p. 114). Continue reading

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An Orthodox Response?

Whether it is the willingness of Roman Polanski’s defenders to value artistic skill more than a young girl’s life or those who value their own position in the Church more than the Gospel, the temptation I face when I look at these events is to take a purely negative stance relative to what has happened. However only to condemn sin is not only futile, it is counterproductive. Most importantly, it is a betrayal of the Gospel.

There must be a positive offering from the Church in response to human sinfulness.  After all, it is the Divine Light which drives out the darkness of human sinfulness (see, Jn 1) not my angry condemnations or moral censure however reasonable (and appropriate) they might be. Continue reading

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Asceticism and Vocation

Writing on the blog, Front Porch Republic (“A Long, Long Row”), Brian Volck makes the following observation that I think is applicable not only to his topic (the restoration of the family farm) but also to the spiritual life.  He writes:

The difficulty of re-envisioning the context and practices of one’s life through the lens of traditional wisdom reminds me of news industry comments in the aftermath of the Nickle Mines shootings, when Amish villagers visited and comforted the widow and parents of the man who executed their daughters in a one room schoolhouse.  Expressions of admiration and amazement from reporters and columnists were common. “Such forgiveness” they cried, without once exploring how the traditioned limits and habits of the Amish make forgiveness possible.

One of the great challenges of human life is my willingness to embrace not simply with resignation but gratitude the limits of my own life.  Because I am a creature I am necessarily limited and while—as St Gregory of Nyssa reminds me—my limits and my ability to change makes it possible for me to become evermore like the Unlimited and Unchanging God, my own relationship to these limits is, at best, ambiguous. Continue reading

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Formation for Freedom: The Challenges Before Us

(Because of our impending move to Wisconsin next week, I have not been able to post for the last several days. Because I will be without internet access for several days starting next week I did want to outline (even if poorly) my thoughts on the challenges we face relative to the formation of Orthodox clergy in obedience. I ask your kind indulgence for the next week or two as my wife and I leave our current home and settle into our new life in Madison.)

Obedience, especially for Americans, has a bit of a bad reputation. While not universal, more and more it seems that American culture is offering us a formation in what Adrian van Kaam calls “autarkic individualism.” For the autarkic individualist the goal of life is not self-sufficiency—indeed more and more it seems that many of us are incapable of caring for ourselves, much less others. Rather the person closes in on himself in a peculiar fashion choosing (only more or less consciously) to live a life parallel to others. Living in this way, the person may come close to others but does so without ever quite touching emotionally or spiritually. Maybe the clearest expression of this is seen in the realm of sexuality. Not just for the young, it is this emotional and spiritual separation that makes promiscuity possible.

But the living of a parallel life has consequences in not only in the realm of human sexuality, but throughout human life. While this is always damaging, I think it does the most harm when we ordain to men so (de-) formed.

Continue reading

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A Bit More About Obedience

René Girard writes that “To seek comfort is always to contribute to the worst” (“On War and Apocalypse,” First Things, July 2009, p. 22). Pausing to reflect on this I realize that I will often seek from the Church and from Holy Tradition mere comfort and that (more often then not) this comfort will take the form of having opinions confirmed. Even if I am correct in my views, what I seek is not a confirmation of the truth as a gift but rather as the product of my own abilities, my own cleverness and insight. So what ought I instead to seek?

Rather than seek seek out mere comfort and ego-pleasing confirmation of my views, what I need from the Church is the encouragement and support that makes it possible for me to do the hard work of self-examination and growth in self-knowledge. In this sense, and for all their differences, the tradition of the Church and Freud’s psychoanalytic project (as I hope to show) are at least potential allies. Continue reading

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So, What is Obedience?

Obedience is a real struggle for me as I suspect it is for most people. But the struggle is not simply, much less exclusively, a struggle to conform to an external authority. At its core, my struggle is a struggle to be obedient to the God Who speaks to me in the depth of my heart and who has called me (in my case) to be a husband for my wife and priest for my parish. It seems to me, and again I am more than open to correction here, that the objective content of Holy Tradition (what we might call the facts of the faith) is in the service of our personal obedience to the Holy Trinity embodied in our fidelity to own personal vocations.

Returning to Pope John Paul II in Pastores Dabo Vobis (On the Formation of Priests in the Circumstances of the Present Day) we read that at the heart of what he calls “formation to responsible freedom” is an “education of the moral conscience.” He continues by observing that this education is more than merely a functional submission to a set of moral norms. True obedience the pope has a symbolic or sacramental quality. The obedience that makes freedom possible, as John Paul writes, is an obedience that arises from the “depths” of the human person and so makes manifest not only the identify of the one who is obedient, but also what he calls “the deep meaning of such obedience.”

Continue reading

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The Priesthood, Sacraments, Signs and Symbols

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There is a difference between a “sign” and a “symbol.” A sign is merely a signifier, it stands in for something else— a stop light is a good example of a sign. A red light has no power to stop me, it merely serves to remind me of my social obligation to drive safely and of the consequences if I don’t. A sign has no power in and of itself. The sign’s power depends on something else and an absent something else at that.

A symbol (anthropologically and in Orthodox theology) is different from a sign. A symbol doesn’t point beyond itself to some other (absent) reality but draws and holds together many things. In this sense, we can say that the Eucharist is a symbol, it draws and holds together in Christ different men and women, from different time and cultures as One Body.

Symbols are also ALWAYS polyvalent. In any given symbol there are many different levels of meaning operating concurrently. Again the Eucharist is a good example. Though we are one in Christ our unity does not preclude our differences but presupposes them. Yes, the Eucharist is objectively one—there are not multiple “Eucharists” even if there are multiple celebrations. But in the Eucharist our unity does not come at the expense of our diversity; neither does our diversity dissolve our unity. The unity of the Eucharist is a convergence of a diversity of subjective meanings; unity and diversity are held together so that neither our unity nor diversity suffers. (And before any object, look at St Paul on the Church as the Body of Christ.)

But what does this have to do with the the human formation of the priesthood?

Continue reading

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