Solitaries and The Lindisfarne Rule; Part 2
Solitaries of Lindisfarne; Reflections on the Rule:
Our Community
prayer is, “that I may be as Christ to those I meet; that I may
find Christ within them.”
It’s about connectedness.
“Being Christ” is not
a role we play, and finding Christ within others is not about grafting our ideas of “Christ” onto people and then using
the other person as our “straight man” in life’s onstage performance.
I find this prayer now has become all jumbled up with some
new ideas I’ve had about sin; along with some amazing theological perspectives
from a Wesleyan minister named Morgan Guyton.
The sin ideas are about learning to untangle myself from the
notion that my sin belongs to me—
about unraveling the notion that it’s my
obligation to figure out whether my actions are right or wrong.
Guyton suggests that Jesus didn’t come to save us from our own sins, but to save the world from us; from the consequences of our sinning. Combining
that idea with the idea that we are all connected, and I got a brilliant flash: Jesus rescues other people from the
consequences of my wrongdoing, and the corollary is that Jesus rescues me from
the consequences of other people’s wrongdoing.
It’s all one
saving action, applied at the intersection of suffering and grace.
To be Christ to one another is to be a spiritual first responder.
On the negative side, it means to decline to make up rules
about right and wrong; to refuse to lay blame; to recuse ourselves from any
sort of quid pro quo transactions or tit-for-tat pettiness; it means to
disqualify ourselves from competing in the grand championship of life. On the
positive side, it means to “bear one another’s burdens” as Paul suggested we
do. Our biggest burden is that of “sin.” Not the notion of sin that would have
us saying to God, “It’s all my fault, and I’m sorry, please forgive me;” but
the concept of sin that says, “It’s not about whose fault it is, it’s that we aren’t
paying attention! Please forgive us.”
Guyton reminded me of something that Amma Beth mentioned to
me, that her favorite translation of the Greek word “metanoia” is to “go
beyond.” Metanoia is usually translated as “repentance,” but that word has
gotten all grubby and stained by centuries of misuse. I’d like to suggest that
forgiveness and repentance are the same thing. No, really, exactly the same thing!
The maneuver
of forgiveness has the same form as the exercise of repentance.
In order to be Christ, we must see Christ. In order to see
Christ, we must be Christ. We have to “go beyond” all our niggly notions,
because in Christ we are impelled to look past all of our prized preconceptions
and our costly convictions.
It’s necessary for us to go and sell all of our prized ideological
possessions; then give the proceeds to the poor (and never forget, we are the poor) and then go off and follow
the Way.
What would be the proceeds of such a metaphysical sale,
anyway? I’d like to suggest that the Realm of God functions on a spiritual economy
of exchange—
We’ll trade our need to be right for the freedom to be kind.
We’ll barter our morality for the grace of generosity.
We’ll dicker
for the greatest amount of peace and patience we can possibly get in return for
our anger and resentment.
But that’s not enough—
Nope, once we’ve made all our trades, and gotten all the best
deals we can, the next step is to give away everything.
Yup.
All that juicy
kindness?
—Hand it
over!
All that
heady generosity?
—Splash it everywhere!
That humongous
hoard of peace and patience?
—Throw a
party with it!
Give it all away and see what happens—
Go Beyond.
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