The Country Boy who Fathered a Nation, Part 2

Hauge's time as a travelling evangelist were busy and fulfilling. A magnetism of God's love seemed to draw people to him. He collected some of their testimonies and published them as tracts, to reach out to others. He made friends in many places and groups of followers formed. One particular characteristic among them was love.

It is something that God's children have among them by the Spirit, Hauge wrote. They know each other from the first moment of meeting. It shows in their spiritual talk, their gentle and humble character and moral, simple and faithful words. One of Christ's shepherds easily recognises his own, and they recognise him.

Some young 'Haugians' were entrusted with local leadership, preaching tours and the sale of books. These men had very different backgrounds and education, but all of them were stamped with Hauge's burning decisiveness for Christ.

Alongside this, Hauge encouraged representatives of the rural population into politics, launching what has been described as the first Norwegian democratic movement. This was enough to gain him enemies. Norway had strict laws regarding sectarian preaching and 'vagrancy'; both of these were now used against him.

In 1799, notices were read in churches warning against unauthorised preachers. Some Haugians were chased out of churches, beaten and imprisoned. Altogether, Hauge himself was arrested ten times. He once spent nine years in prison before his case was even heard! The sheriff of Hallingdal thought it would be fun to send a prostitute to Hauge's cell; he looked her in the eyes with compassion and she began to sob and confess her sins!

His final imprisonment lasted 10 years, 3 of them in total isolation, first in an underground cell reserved for drunks, and finally in a small cell that has now been reconstructed at Norway's Open Air Museum outside Oslo. He wrote to his friends:

If I had 100 lives, they would all be willing for chains. Prison does not last for ever. I wish you well on the road of salvation. It is my prayer, my longing, my burden of care and my joy to find you in life eternal.

However, Hauge was by now a national figure and his long imprisonment was becoming a scandal. What's more, the authorities still needed his business and industrial expertise. Once, they freed him for a time because they needed his advice on a marine desalination project! Finally, his sentence was commuted to a fine, which his friends paid. Hauge was free, broken in health but filled with God's vision. He was ready for the final stage of the adventure.

The Country Boy Who Fathered a Nation, Part 1

The name Hans Nielsen Hauge (pronounced Ho-ger) is largely unknown outside his native Norway. This is surprising, given the far-ranging social, economic, political and spiritual impact of his life.

It all began in 1796, when the 25-year-old farmer's son was ploughing a field. He suddenly felt an overwhelming experience of the real presence of God. He burned with love for Jesus and for mankind. 'My mind became so exalted that I can scarcely express what took place in my soul', he wrote later. 'I asked Him to reveal to me what I should do. The answer echoed in my heart: "You shall confess My name before the people; exhort them to repent and seek Me while I may be found and call upon Me while I am near; and touch their hearts that they may turn from darkness to light".'

He first shared the good news with his brothers and sisters, who were all converted. Then he set off as an itinerant evangelist. He developed a pattern of walking great distances every day, holding three or four meetings in villages and reaching large numbers of ordinary people. In the 8 years he was free to do this, it is estimated he covered 15,000 km. He often knitted as he walked; the gloves and socks were then given away to the poor who needed them. Many people came to saving faith in Jesus as a result and then they themselves went out to preach the gospel. A grass-roots revival began to spread among the rural communities.

Hauge was a humble and practical man, full of initiative. He saw the need to educate and equip the common people as well as save their souls. He had an amazing capacity for work, which, combined with his pioneering spirit, made him an entrepreneur to rank with the best.

For Hauge, running a business and preaching went hand in hand. He started a company in Bergen in 1801 to secure a sound economic base for his gospel activities. Thereafter, there was no stopping him! Over the next eight years, he founded fishing industries, brickyards, spinning mills, shipping yards, salt and mineral mines, paper mills and printing works. These created jobs for people who needed work and taught them how to make a living for themselves. He delegated the daily management to those he thought were the most capable, but he was the strategist who planned and motivated the whole enterprise. The profits were always used to invest in new activities.

Hauge became an inspiration to all who wanted to take Norway out of the 'middle ages' and into a new day. New agricultural and industrial methods were developed, and literacy rates rose. A new confidence led to greater economic freedom as Christians were challenged to rebuild society. Norway began to change.

Preacher Burns His Sermons And Catches Fire Himself!

Destitute of the fire of God, nothing else counts; possessing fire, nothing else matters.

Samuel Chadwick was born in the industrial north of England in 1860. His father worked long hours in the cotton mill and, when he was only eight, Samuel went to work there, too, as a means of supporting the family. Devout Methodists, they attended chapel three times on Sunday, and as a young boy, Chadwick gave his heart to Christ. Listening to God's word week by week, he often felt the inner call to serve Jesus. It seemed impossible, as he was poor and uneducated, but in faith he made preparations. After a twelve-hour factory shift he would rush home for five hours of prayer and study.

At the age of 21 he was appointed lay pastor of a chapel at Stacksteads, Lancashire. He found the congregation self-satisfied, but Chadwick threw himself into the work with great optimism. He had been trained to prepare well-researched and interesting sermons as the sure way to bring in the crowds. He recalled later: "This led unconsciously to a false aim in my work. I lived and laboured for my sermons, and was unfortunately more concerned about their excellence and reputation than the repentance of the people."

Soon, however, his sermons were exhausted and nothing had changed. Staring defeat in the face and sensing his lack of real power, an intense hunger was kindled within him for more of God. At this point he heard the testimony of someone who had been revitalised by an experience of the Holy Spirit. So, with a few friends he covenanted to pray and search the scriptures until God sent revival.

One evening he was praying over his next sermon, when a powerful sense of conviction settled on him. His pride, blindness and reliance on human methods paraded before his eyes as God humbled him to the dust. Well into the night he wrestled and repented, then he got out his pile of precious sermons and threw them on the fire!

The result was immediate – he was baptised with the Holy Spirit and with fire [Luke 3:16]. "I could not explain what had happened, but it was a bigger thing than I had ever known. There came into my soul a deep peace, a thrilling joy, and a new sense of power. My mind was quickened. I felt I had received a new faculty of understanding. Every power was vitalised. My body was quickened. There was a new sense of spring and vitality, a new power of endurance and a strong man's exhilaration in big things."

The tide turned. At his next service, seven people were converted ("one for each of my barren years"), and he called the whole congregation to a week of prayer. The following weekend most of the church was filled with the Holy Spirit and revival began to spread through the valleys. In the space of a few months, hundreds were converted to Jesus, among them some of the most notorious sinners in the area.

The pattern was repeated over the next few years as Chadwick moved to various places. 1890 saw him in Leeds, where the power of God was so strongly upon him that the chapel was full half an hour before the service began, and police had to control the crowds. Chadwick records: "We were always praying and fighting [the devil], singing and rejoicing, doing the impossible and planning still bigger things. The newspapers never left us alone, and people came from far and wide." Within a few years, the chapel had to be demolished and a substantial Mission Hall built.

Always a man of the people, Chadwick would spend his Saturdays mixing with local workers. Once, when his wife was away, he teasingly invited anyone who was lonely to come for Saturday tea. He expected about a dozen. Six hundred turned up! Yet God had already catered: one church member was a baker and had been awoken by the Lord with the order to bake for all he was worth!

Chadwick was a man of prayer and urged others to it too. "The one concern of the devil is to keep Christians from praying,” he wrote. “He fears nothing from prayerless studies, prayerless work and prayerless religion. He laughs at our toil, mocks at our wisdom - but trembles when we pray!"

The final phase of Chadwick's life was spent as Principal of Cliff College, a Methodist training school for preachers, and it was here that he wrote his famous book, The Way to Pentecost, which was being printed when he died in 1932. In it we read: "I owe everything to the gift of Pentecost. For fifty days the facts of the Gospel were complete, but no conversions were recorded. Pentecost registered three thousand souls. It is by fire that a holy passion is kindled in the soul whereby we live the life of God. The soul's safety is in its heat. Truth without enthusiasm, morality without emotion, ritual without soul, make for a Church without power."

Ancient Odes to Jesus, part 2

There is a Helper for me: the Lord... He became like me, that I might receive Him. I trembled not when I saw Him, for He was gracious to me. Like my nature He became, that I might understand him; and like my form, that I might not turn away from Him.
Ode 7:3-6

As we delve a little deeper into the earliest Christian hymnbook, the 'Odes of Solomon', it becomes clear that the writer was familiar with the biblical book of Psalms. It is nowhere exactly quoted, but in many places there are direct parallels. To give just one example, Psalm 84:10 reads: For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand elsewhere, and in Ode 4:5 we find: For one hour of Your faith is more excellent than all the days and all the years.

What is also clear is that the writer, almost certainly a Jewish Christian in Syria, was very familiar with the writings of the Apostle John. If, as is generally agreed, the Odes date from the very end of the 1st century, it is well possible that the writer was a disciple of John.

Some of the odes are meditative expansions of Johannine themes like light and dark. John 1:1-18 presents Jesus Christ as "the light of the world": In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it [v.3-4]. Ode 15:2 says: He is my Sun and His rays have lifted me up; His light has dismissed all darkness from my face.

The general tenor of the Odes is similar to John's gospel in its meditative, worshipful response to the truths of Jesus. See, for example, the odist's treatment of the incarnation [Odes 7,19], death [Ode 28], resurrection and ascension [Ode 42].

A fine example is Ode 27, which is only three verses long and which clearly grew out of worshipful contemplation of the Cross:

I extended my hands and hallowed my Lord,
For the stretching out of my hands is His sign,
And my stretching upward is the upright cross. Hallelujah.

To read the Odes of Solomon for yourself, follow this link. The Odes have of recent times been set to music - for more details, visit The Odes Project.

Ancient Odes to Jesus? part 1

I am putting on the love of the Lord...
I have been united to Him, because the lover has found the Beloved.
Because I love Him that is the Son, I shall become a son.
Indeed, whoever is joined to Him who is immortal, shall truly be immortal.

These striking words come from what has been hailed as the earliest Christian hymn book. Prior to 1909, nothing was known of the Odes of Solomon except one quotation by Lactantius (†320). Then a Syriac manuscript was found containing, among other writings, 40 odes. Subsequent finds have shown that there were originally 42, though because of the fragmentary nature of the papyri, Ode 2 and part of Ode 3 have not survived.

I remember from my youth the odes read by comedian Frankie Howerd in the TV series Up Pompeii ("titter ye not!"). I later discovered that an ode is simply a piece of lyrical poetry written for a particular occasion, which in Greek at least had a fixed form. Scholars quickly established, however, that the Odes of Solomon, are not from a Greek stable but a Jewish one. Dating evidence suggests late 1st - early 2nd century, at any event before the Bar-Kokhba Revolt of 132-135, when Christian Jews were evicted from synagogues.

These verses are not odes other than in a general sense, then, and there is nothing to link them to Solomon except by analogy of phrasing with the Song of Solomon in the Bible. For these Odes are clearly Christian (at one time scholars thought Gnostic, but the consensus today is that they are orthodox) and praise the person and attributes of Jesus Christ. Was the titular use of Solomon's name a way of safeguarding the documents in a highly volatile political time when radical Jews were highly suspicious of Jewish followers of Christ?

What makes the Odes particularly exciting is that they clearly emanate from a community of Jewish disciples of Jesus, almost certainly from Syria. Church history from earliest times has majored on Gentile Christianity to the extent that the average reader can forget that Jewish believers continued at all beyond the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70. I hope, in a few further posts, to explore these matters more and give some more quotations from this amazing early Christian resource.

Christians and Hymns, part 7

One of the reasons why music did not take a central place in early Christian worship is that the central element of their meetings was the sharing of the bread and wine, the Communion or Eucharist, whether in the context of a church service or in the agapé, the 'love feast' in homes. Ignatius was made bishop of Antioch in AD 67, when many of the apostles were still alive and active, and he describes the Christian church as "a Eucharistic community" which realised its true nature when it celebrated Communion.

In turn, this emphasis might be due to the belief among first generation Christians that the sharing of the bread and wine was to be done "until Jesus returns", which they believed would be soon, perhaps in their lifetime. When this did not materialise, a Christian liturgy for worship began to develop, described for us by early apologists like Justin Martyr and Hippolytus. It involved greeting, reading from scripture, responsive (antiphonal) singing, baptisms, a sermon, prayers, the offertory, the communion and a blessing.

The first hymn with actual musical notation which we possess, the "Oxyrhynchus hymn", is from the 3rd century. At the same point, the Apostolic Tradition, attributed to the theologian Hippolytus, shows that the singing of psalms with Alleluia as the refrain was a feature of early Christian agape feasts.

It wasn't until around 375 that antiphonal singing of psalms became popular in the Christian East; in 386, Ambrose of Milan introduced this practice to the West. Around 410, St. Augustine described the responsive singing of a psalm at Mass. Sources are few and inconclusive regarding how Christian chant / song developed, but we do know that by 678, Western (Roman) chant was being taught at York. Distinctive regional traditions of Western plainchant arose during this period, notably in the British Isles (Celtic chant), Spain (Mozarabic), Gaul (Gallican), and Italy (Old Roman and Ambrosian).

We can safely say that by this stage, sung worship was an established part of Christian services, albeit without instruments. For the arrival of the earliest church organs we must wait until the mid-11th century.

Christians and Hymns, part 6

Eusebius of Caesarea was a 4th century bishop of Caesarea who wrote a history of early Christianity based on a number of sources, some of which no longer exist. He quotes Philo, a 1st century Jewish historian, who made mention of Christian all-night vigils and the hymns which they recite, and how while one man sings in regular rhythm, the others listen and join in the refrain.

The phrase "hymns which they recite" is particularly interesting. The pagan official Pliny, quoted in an earlier post in this blog, used the same phrase (Latin carmen dicere). Does it suggest that hymns were spoken rather than sung? Philo, quoted above, suggests that singing happened but still uses "recite". Historian Ralph Martin has studied this phrase in a number of historical contexts and you can find his article here.

We could usefully bring in Augustine of Hippo here, who in the 4th century described church singing in Alexandria as more like speaking than singing. Perhaps there was a specific reason for this. Pipe, harp and drum were intimately linked to the pagan cults, e.g. of Pan, with their sensuous worship and often shameless revelries. Christians, mindful of the apostolic direction that everything should be done decently and in order [1 Corinthians 14:40], avoided musical instruments. Jerome, also 4th century, wrote that a Christian maiden ought not even to know what a flute is, or what it is used for.

Liturgy (an order of service with fixed elements) came in early to Christian worship. there is evidence of a 'Jerusalem' liturgy, instituted by the Apostle James, and an 'Alexandrian' liturgy attributed to Paul's fellow-labourer John Mark. Singing was a key element, but in the stylised manner of Jewish psalmody and response singing. As John Chrysostom puts it:

David formerly sang in pslams, and we also sing today with him. He had a lyre with lifeless strings; the Church has a lyre with living strings. Our tongues are the strings of the lyre, with a different tone, certainly, but with a more seemly piety.

Christians and Hymns, part 5

The Roman official Pliny held office as governor of the province of Pontus and Bithynia in Asia Minor for a period of fifteen months or so in AD 111-112. During that time he corresponded with the emperor Trajan about how to enforce legislation against the Christians. He relates information about Christian practices which he had received from certain Christian renegades.

They were in the habit of meeting before dawn on a stated day and singing alternately a hymn to Christ as to a god, and that they bound themselves by an oath...that they would abstain from theft and robbery and adultery, that they would not break their word, and that they would not withhold a deposit when reclaimed. This done, it was their practice, so they said, to separate, and then to meet together again for a meal, which however was of the ordinary kind and quite harmless.

The reference to "singing hymns to Christ" shows that the Christians were singing more than texts from the Psalms. And we have examples. A gospel fragment of uncertain date, known as the Strasbourg Coptic Papyrus 1900, contains this:

Through whom will the last enemy be destroyed?
Through Christ. Amen.
Through whom is the sting of death destroyed?
Through the Only Begotten. Amen.
To whom belongs the rulership?
It belongs to the Son. Amen.
Through whom has everything come into being?
Through the Firstborn. Amen.

Here is the 'statement and response' singing familiar from Jewish worship using the Psalms, but now with overtly Christian text.

Biblical scholars generally agree that certain passages of the New Testament are likely renditions of early Christian hymns. They cite various textual criteria, for example that the passage exhibits rhythmical patterns and careful structure, contains vocabulary different from the surrounding context, and to some extent interrupts the context. It is common to refer to these passages as Canticles.

The classic examples have all passed into church liturgy: the "Magnificat" (Luke 1:46-55), the "Benedictus" (Luke 1:68-75) and the "Nunc Dimittis" (Luke 2:29-32). But there are others, such as Ephesians 5:14, which some hold to have been a credal statement for baptism, and 1 Timothy 3:16:

He was manifest in flesh,
justified in spirit,
visible to angels,
preached among the nations,
believed on in the world,
taken up into glory.

Christians and Hymns, part 4

Before delving further into Christian hymnody, I must thank Jeffrey O'Rourke for pointing out that my quotation from Origen in the last post was taken rather out of context. Origen is defending Christians against charges levelled by a pagan, Celsus, that they have some arcane Christian tongue for secret rituals. So Origen is not describing a particular worship service; rather he is saying that Christians sing and pray to God using their mother tongue - wherever they may be. There is no "Christian tongue"; God hears us no matter what tongue we use. He is delineating a principle, not a practice.

One thing that surprises me with early Christian worship is that singing praises does not appear in the list of things the first believers devoted themselves to in Acts 2:42, namely the apostles' teaching, the breaking of bread, fellowship, and prayers. The First Apology of Justin Martyr, dated c.155, describes a Christian worship service. The emphasis is on ritual (baptism / ablution and Holy Communion), not singing.

This all seems oddly at variance with the Apostle Paul's exhortation to address one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord [Ephesians 5:19]. A very musical response indeed! As with Origen, the context is primarily the believer's personal devotional life. But not exclusively: "addressing one another" can only mean a context of corporate worship.

We know that Jesus and the Twelve, before they went out to the Mount of Olives, sang a hymn [Mark 14:26]. But what, and how? Many Biblical scholars believe it would have been one of the so-called Hallel series in the Book of Psalms, consisting of Psalms 113 - 118. It was common practice among the Jews to chant these holy songs at the Passover table. Did they sing it responsively, their 'Rabbi' leading and the disciples responding? we shall never know.

In the next post, the early testimony of a Roman official gives us a few clues.

Christians and Hymns, part 3

The 1st century traveller and writer, Philo of Alexandria, describes the singing of a contemplative Jewish sect called the Therapeutae:
"They rise up together and ... form themselves into two choirs, one of men and one of women, the leader chosen from each being the most honoured and most musical among them. They sing hymns to God composed of many measures and set to many melodies, sometimes chanting together, sometimes antiphonally."

Jewish liturgical singing took two forms: antiphonal and responsorial. The first is what Philo is describing: the division of singers into two groups in such a way that they are separated from each other; for example, to the right and left sides of the central aisle in the building. They then sing alternate parts, one side starting, the other responding.

This has continued in Christian worship ever since, not so much in congregational worship, but rather by the choir. Many a well-loved anthem has the two parts marked decani and cantores, indicating that, in the past, a group of church deacons would have sung one part, and a group of chosen cantors (singers) the other.

The second type of singing is similar, involving the priest or a perhaps a solo cantor singing an opening line and the congregation in unison singing the reply. Anyone who has been to a traditional sung service in church will be familiar with this.
Priest: O Lord, open thou our lips.
Answer: And our mouth shall show forth thy praise.
Priest: O God, make speed to save us.
Answer: O Lord, make haste to help us.
Priest: Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost;
Answer: As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

The Old Testament book of Psalms really came into its own here, as not only did it allow the congregation to take God's word directly on its lips, but also the very verse form made for successful breaking down into statement and response (as in the above example). Even where it didn't, a congregational reply of "Alleluia" or "We bless Thy name, O Lord" did just as well. Tertullian, at the end of the 2nd century, refers to response singing of pslams in the church at Rome.

But what happened in a multi-national congregation where several langiages were represented? The writer Origen in the mid-3rd century gives the answer:

The Greeks use Greek, the Romans Latin ... and everyone prays and sings praises to God as best he can in his mother tongue.

Which sounds like a lot of fun!

If you have any comments on this post or the subject of hymns, please use the COMMENT box below. I'd love to hear from you.

Christians and Hymns, Part 2

Another early Church father who understood the 'why' of hymn-singing was Basil of Caesarea (†379). In his Discourse on Psalm 1, he writes:

The Spirit mixed sweetness of melody with doctrine so that inadvertently we would absorb the benefit of the words through gentleness and ease of hearing. O the wise invention of the teacher who contrives that in our singing we learn what is profitable, and that thereby doctrine is somehow more deeply impressed upon our souls.

The conscious or unconscious absorption of a message, with music as its medium, is a powerful tool. Today's marketing world knows this very well, associating a product with particular mood music. From the 1970s onwards, technology has even allowed "backmasking" - the insertion of a subliminal secret message when a music track is played backwards.

All this was unknown to the first Christians, of course. What they did understand, however, was the need to confess spiritual truth aloud: not just to 'believe in your heart', but also to 'confess with your lips' [Romans 10:9]. Or in Basil's words, to impress doctrine more deeply on their souls.

For this they had a clear and obvious model: the Jews. At first, Christianity was a Jewish sect. The early Christians continued to worship at the Temple and to attend synagogues. It was therefore inevitable that Jewish methods of performing music were incorporated into Christian worship.

In particular, the church continued to use the book of Psalms. Basil again:

Now the prophets teach certain things, the historians and the Law teach other, and Proverbs provides still a different sort of advice, but the Book of Psalms encompasses the benefit of them all. It foretells what is to come and memorializes history; it legislates for life, gives advice on practical matters, and serves in general as a repository of good teachings.

In other words, if it is important to confess God's truth aloud, then how better than to sing scripture. Not only is there no risk of emotionalism or error, but also the addition of music aids the memorising of the words.

How exactly this was done - and what implications that might have for today, I hope to look at next time.

Christians and Hymns, Part 1

A subject that fascinates me is that of Christian hymnody, so I intend to explore the subject in a few posts here. First of all, why hymns at all?

In the introduction to his Exposition of the Psalms of David, the medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas described the singing of hymns thus: A hymn is the praise of God with song; a song is the exultation of the mind dwelling on eternal things, bursting forth in the voice.

It would seem that, for the first Christian centuries, believers sang their hymns without stopping to analyse the process. One of the first who did was John Chrysostom (347-407). In his 'Exposition on Psalm 41', he points out that music is an integral part of the human condition: To such an extent, indeed, is our nature delighted by chants and songs that even infants at the breast, if they be weeping or afflicted, are by reason of it lulled to sleep.

Mixing this innate sense of music with the power of words is, Chrysostom continues, a powerful vehicle, affecting the intellect and spiritual standing of the singer.

When God saw that the majority of men were slothful and that they approached spiritual reading with reluctance and submitted to the effort involved without pleasure - wishing to make the task more agreeable and to relieve the sense of laboriousness - He mixed melody with prophecy, so that enticed by the rhythm and melody, all might raise sacred hymns to Him with great eagerness. For nothing so arouses the soul, gives it wings, sets it free from earth, releases it from the prison of the body, teaches it to love wisdom, and to condemn all the things of this life, as concordant melody andsacred song composed in rhythm.

In words very relevant to today's ipod culture, Chrysostom warns that there are bad words and bad music too, and these can similarly affect the human soul. "Those things that are lascivious and vicious in all songs settle in parts of the mind, making it softer and weaker." That is why, he maintains, the devil is keen to fill the mind with dirty things through music.

From the spiritual hymms, however, proceeds much of value, much utility and sanctity, for the words purify the mind and the Holy Spirit descends swiftly upon the mind of the singer. For those who sing with understanding invoke the grace of the Spirit.

On the Trail of Fundamentalism, Conclusion

In the light of the considerations outlined in the last two posts, the consensus today seems to be that most sincere and active Christians and churches would reject the “fundamentalist” description. They prefer “Bible-believing” or “evangelical”, each of which carries the idea of foundational New Testament beliefs and practices (thus avoiding the charge of liberalism). Such terms also allow churches to distance themselves both from the perceived rigid legalism of some (hyper-Calvinist) wings of the church, and from the 'lunatic fringe' associations attached to “fundamentalism” by the popular press and trendy atheism.

We do well to return to A W Tozer's analysis (see previous posts). Although written 50 years ago, his overview of trends is both timeless and masterly.

The human mind can endure textualism just so long before it seeds a way of escape... The masses of Fundamentalism reacted against the tyranny of the scribes.

In centuries past, perhaps, a matter so weighty to the Church might have required the convening of a Council of wise and respected leaders to confer and deliver a prescriptive ruling. Not so now!

The result... has been a religious debauch hardly equalled since Israel worshipped the golden calf... The separating line between the Church and the world has been all but obliterated.

Aside from a few of the grosser sins, the sins of the unregenerate world are now approved by a shocking number of professedly "born-again' Christians, and copied eagerly. Young Christians take as their models the rankest kind of worldlings and try to be as much like them as possible. Religious leaders have adopted the techniques of the advertisers: boasting, baiting and shameless exaggerating are now carried on as a normal procedure in church work. The moral climate is not that of the New Testament, but that of Hollywood.

This has come at a terrible cost:

Most evangelicals no longer initiate, they imitate... The holy faith of our fathers has in many places been made a form of entertainment, and the appalling thing is that all this has been fed down to the masses from the top.

And worst of all:

That note of protest which began with the New Testament and which was always heard loudest went the Church was most powerful has been successfully silenced. The radical element in testimony and life that once made Christians hated by the world is missing from present-day evangelicalism.

This is still the dilemma for Christians and churches today: to tighten up and risk "the tyranny of the scribes"; to let go and settle for a non-threatening but emasculated faith; or to be bold enough to cut a new path, which is nevertheless the old path of the New Testament: "a new commandment, but the commandment you heard from the beginning" (1 John.2:7).

On the Trail of Fundamentalism, Part 3

Holding back on A W Tozer's analysis a little longer, let's look at where Christian fundamentalism has reached today.

In his book What People Ask About the Church, Dale Robbins writes: "In the broad sense, fundamentalism may be used to describe Christians who are uncompromising, conservative and who take their beliefs to the maximum - exactly how every believer should live." In all probability, this is how serious evangelical Christians the world over would describe themselves. It is therefore a neutral, general description, which distinguishes such believers from liberals on the one hand and ritualists on the other.

However, as Robbins points out: "In recent times, because of increased activism by those identified as fundamentalists, who have promoted unethical actions such as bringing violence against abortion clinics, some academic circles believe that fundamentalism has been redefined by our society... [In their eyes] fundamentalism has evolved into a legitimate form of extremism, with views too radical for the balanced, evangelical Christian."

The analogy with Islamic fundamentalists is never far away. That term only gained currency during the Iran Hostage Crisis of 1979-80. The media, in an attempt to explain the ideology of the Ayatollah to a Western audience, described it as "a fundamentalist version of Islam". So Islamic fundamentalism was a merging of religious teaching and social revolution, and this idea has now been carried back to Christianity - at least in the eyes of an onlooking world.

Now, therefore, some Christian theologians refer pejoratively as "fundamentalist" to any Christian thinking or plan of action which they see as too literal-minded and with the potential to rock the boat. On wonders what would they have said of Jesus Christ and the twelve Apostles? The persistent criticisms which they (and non-Christians) level at fundamentalist evangelicals are triumphalism (they make simplistic claims which they cannot prove) and selectivity (they are happy to be literal-minded about Jesus' miracles, but not about Christians sharing all things in common).

The key issue, as I would see it, is open-mindedness. Barry Morgan, Archbishop of Wales, puts it helpfully: The new fundamentalism of our age leads to the language of expulsion and exclusivity, of extremism and polarisation, and to the claim that, because God is on our side, he is not on yours. If we, as Christians, reach the point where we are no longer able to question, to "test all things and hold fast to that which is good" (1 Thessalonians 5:21), then our particular brand of fundamentalism is teetering on the edge of the very idealistic extremism we might condemn in others. A sorry state indeed!

On the Trail of Fundamentalism, Part 2

My last post on Christian fundamentalism has generated some discussion. Before returning to A W Tozer's analysis, we need to be sure what actually constitutes fundamentalist Christianity. Do an image search on an internet browser under those words and up come an inglorious succession of caricatures of clichéd tub-thumpers and slightly weird bible-bashers. This is clearly the perception 'out there'. This is as sad as it is uninformed. The origins of modern fundamentalism lie back in the 1890s and an attempt to safeguard the true foundations of Christianity, which had been attacked and eroded from all sides throughout that century. For example, the 1910 General Assembly of the [American] Presbyterian Church distilled the historic faith to "five fundamentals":

* The divine inspiration of the Bible, and therefore its inerrancy;
* The virgin birth of Jesus;
* The belief that Christ's death atoned for sin.
* The bodily resurrection of Jesus.
* The historical reality of Jesus' miracles.

Others added extra stones to these key foundations, principally the belief in Christ's divinity. Conservative, conscientious Christians rallied to these as to a firm rock in a stormy ocean. They became known as "fundamentalists".

As we saw last time in A W Tozer's trenchant analysis, what began as a laudable attempt to stay the tide that was pounding away at Christianity, morphed into a rigid system that regulated all belief - what Tozer calls "the cult of textualism". As Jeffrey O'Rourke commented after my last post, Tozer eloquently sums up the huge danger involved in a rigid, mental reliance on prescribed beliefs.

"The error of textualism is not doctrinal. It is far more subtle than that and much more difficult to discover, but its effects are just as deadly. It assumes, for instance, that if we have the word for a thing we have the thing itself. If it is in the Bible, it is in us. If we have the doctrine, we have the experience. If something was true of Paul, it is of necessity true of us because we accept Paul's epistles as divinely inspired... Assurance of individual salvation is thus no more than a logical conclusion drawn from doctrinal premises, and the resultant experience wholly mental."

John Vagabond's comment on my last post ably shows the process whereby "fundamental-ism" (the correct process of returning to what God actually said and wants done) turns into Fundamentalism (a doctrinal system which allows a self-righteous elite to pass judgement on others): When belief hardens into principle, thereafter into doctrine which people then are willing to defend, textual criticism becomes its own harbinger of destruction.

As Tozer rightly points out, the human mind can endure textualism just so long, before it seeks a way of escape, and this is what I hope to turn to in Part 3.

On the Trail of Fundamentalism, Part 1

A question posed in response to my recent post on Tertullian has been occupying my thoughts. "What's the difference between 'dogged commitment to the truth' and blind fundamentalism?"

This is a big and far-reaching question and would require a whole essay, not a blog post. I was, though, reminded of an excellent piece from the pen of A W Tozer, which helps us forward, specifically as concerns Christian fundamentalism. "No Revival Without Reformation" was written in the 1950s and surveys trends in Christianity over the thirty years prior to that. Reading it, however, you would hardly know this, so timeless and relevant are his observations.

As a reaction to Higher Criticism and its offspring, Modernism, there arose in Protestantism a powerful movement in defense of the historic Christian faith. This, for obvious reasons, came to be known as Fundamentalism. It was a more or less spontaneous movement without much organization, but its purpose wherever it appeared was the same: to stay 'the rising tide of negation' in Christian theology and to restate and defend the basic doctrines of New Testament Christianity.

So far, so good. But, Tozer maintains, this "dogged commitment to the truth" (my starting question, you recall) fell victim to its own virtues.

The Word died in the hands of its friends. The voice of the prophet was silenced and the scribe captured the minds of the faithful. An unofficial hierarchy decided what Christians were to believe. Not the Scriptures, but what the scribe thought the Scriptures meant became the Christian creed. Christian colleges, seminaries, Bible institutes, Bible conferences, popular Bible expositors all joined to promote the cult of textualism. The system of extreme dispensationalism which was devised, relieved the Christian of repentance, obedience and cross-carrying in any other than the most formal sense. Whole sections of the New Testament were taken from the church and disposed of after a rigid system of “dividing the Word of truth.”

What had therefore been intended as a remedy (or prevention) became as harmful as the disease it set out to cure.

A kind of cold mist settled over Fundamentalism... The whole mood was different from that of the Early Church and of the great souls who suffered and sang and worshiped in the centuries past. The doctrines were sound but something vital was missing. The tree of correct doctrine was never allowed to blossom. The voice of the turtledove was rarely heard in the land; instead, the parrot sat on his perch and dutifully repeated what he had been taught. The whole emotional tone was sombre and dull... As [this literalism] triumphed, the Spirit withdrew and textualism ruled supreme.

Thus far Tozer's assessment of the birth of Christian fundamentalism, its virtues and its serious failings. In my next post we can take this further.

More on the Beguines

I have been reading further on the Beguines, subject of my last post. Here are some links:

This piece gives more information (not that much is known) about Lambert le Bègue, parish priest of St Christopher's in Liège in the latter part of the 12th century. He was a reformer who preached against abuses in the established church. It is generally assumed that the name Beguines was derived from his own, as it was he who urged a new movement of godly women who would rise up to serve their generation.

Here is a general sketch of the Beguine movement and its spirituality.

This more scholarly account discusses the characteristics of Beguine life and looks at the possible reasons for their eventual decline.

An article by Marianne Dormann looks further into the spiritual devotions of the Beguines, chiefly using The Mirror of the Soul, by Marguerite Porete, a French Beguine who was burned at the stake for supposed heresy in 1310.

For some old photographs and illustrations of Beguine houses, look no further than here.

Finally, in this piece, Marvin Anderson considers the contemporary implications of the Beguines' rediscovery of lay ministry and grassroots evangelism.

Women of Vision and Action: the Beguines

We live in days of great social upheaval. The late 1100s were much the same. For generations, rural life and agriculture were the unquestioned norm. Now there was a great migration to the towns, which grew rapidly and a new ‘middle class’ of merchants and craftsmen evolved. Also, the Crusades had led thousands of men to their death, leaving an imbalance of women.

The Church was not well placed to cope with this new climate. For centuries, the beating heart of the faith had been in the monasteries, but these were almost always in the country, sticking to ancient traditions and largely out of touch with new social developments. Many had grown rich and complacent and cared little for service and evangelism. Women who wanted to live radically for God had few openings. The time was ripe for a new expression of the kingdom of God, and the Beguines rose to the challenge.

This was a spontaneous movement that began with a group of praying women in Liège, Belgium, in the 1190s. Not wanting either of the usual options of marriage or a nunnery, these radical women pioneered a new form of community. They pledged themselves to prayer, poverty and celibacy. Seeing how society was changing, they chose to stay in the towns, especially the poor suburbs, where they could serve the people with Jesus’ love.

Adult women during the Middle Ages were expected to live under the guardianship of a man, either within the household as a wife and mother, or dedicated to the Church and living in a convent as a nun. The Beguines questioned this concept and lived outside of these set boundaries. Women who entered Beguinages (Beguine houses and/or convents) were not bound by permanent vows, in contrast to women who entered convents. They could enter Beguinages having already been married and they could leave the Beguinages to marry. Some women even entered the Beguinages with children.

They aimed to recover the simplicity, love and outreach of the early Church. They preached (which was not allowed), and in the language of the people, not Latin. Their communal settlements had a hospital, a place of worship, and work-shops for spinning, lace-making and other crafts that were to generate an income. They held literacy classes for poor children, supported widows, and took in orphans. And at every turn, they proclaimed God’s love for the poor.

Beguines had no mother-house, nor common rule, nor any appointed head the order. Every community was complete in itself and fixed its own order of living. Later many adopted the rule of the Third Order of Saint Francis. These communities were varied in terms of the social status of their members; some of them only admitted ladies of high degree; others were exclusively reserved for persons in humble circumstances; others again opened their doors wide to women of every condition, and these were the most densely peopled. Several, like the great Beguinage of Ghent, numbered around a thousand.

In the beginning, the clergy's attitude towards Beguines was ambivalent. The groups were religious and the women were dedicated to chastity and charity, which could not be condemned in any way. However, the fact that they existed without men (except for priests and confessors to lead them) was suspect to the ecclesiastical hierarchy. For this and many other reasons, many Beguines came to be known as heretics and were persecuted as such. Though they were never an approved religious order, they were at one point granted special privileges and exemptions customary for approved orders. The Church, however, did not approve of their lack permanent vows. Women were not supposed to have that much freedom.

A male offshoot began, taking the name Beghards, but never made the same impact as the women - perhaps because they were not so very different from the Franciscan friars. It was the Beguines, the women of vision who put that vision into action and gave it a demonstrable structure, who made the mark for God. They had heard the pulse of the society God had placed them in, and met its need. The movement multiplied, and by 1270 there were Beguine communities in most towns in Belgium, Holland and North Germany.

Tertullian: the Courage to Stir Up, part 2

Christians are called to spread the good news of Jesus Christ. They are also part of the "Church militant", engaged in a spiritual conflict against dark forces, both spritual and institutional. To break through these, and to pierce the dullness and oppression which can sometimes settle on Christians, requires "breakthrough people". This is primarily, but not exclusively, the work of 'the apostles and prophets' [1 Corinthians 12:28]. Tertullian was certainly one of these. He saw what was dulling the Church's edge and confronted it, appealing to each heart to part with its idols. Away with mottled Christianity! , he wrote; in other words, be one thing or the other.

Some recent commentators have called Tertullian a bigot. He was indeed no lamb, and we may wince at some overblown stances, e.g. his almost gleeful account of the torments of the lost in hell. But we must understand the debating codes of his time and not judge solely by today's. For example, Tertullian was fond of paradox. He will often push an issue to its purest form, in order to see the real nature of the thing under examination. He did not value the 'fruitful ambiguity' of the heretic. For him, something is true if Christ taught it, the apostles passed it on, and it is found in the Scriptures. It is therefore fixed and pretty much non-negotiable. One of his works (none of which is especially long) has 186 references to the word 'truth'.

In our day, it is not uncommon among Protestants in the West to look with grudging admiration at the Pope for knowing exactly where the Roman Catholic Church stands and not deviating from it, however great the flak, while liberals in other denominations seek to nuance and reinterpret things. Bigotry? More likely, the same dogged commitment to truth as Tertullian held. He too laid down the express rule that no speculation outside the ‘Rule of Faith’ was permissible.

We see this most starkly in Tertullian's writings against heretics, which did a lot to strengthen the cause of orthodoxy. One writing is called, rather opaquely, "The Prescription of Heretics." This is an older meaning of 'prescription'. It meant the cutting short of a question by the refusal to hear the adversary's arguments, on the ground that key points are already in place which cut the ground from under his feet. So, for Tertullian, it is of no use to listen to heretics' arguments or refute them, for we have a number of antecedent proofs that they do not deserve a hearing.

This, then, is 'permitted bigotry,' and it gives him the solid ground and the confidence to lay into any who deviate from it or hold unbiblical opinions. In our day, scientific atheism insists that any and every point of belief should be proven, and many Christians perform various contortions to try to do so. There is something refreshing in Tertullian's assurance, for example about the Resurrection: it is true precisely because it is impossible. The end of the matter.

Tertullian: the Courage to Stir Up, Part 1

Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus was born at Carthage in North Africa around AD 155, son of a Roman centurion. He trained as a lawyer and had a razor-sharp mind. Little of his early life is known, but at about 40 he became a Christian. Immediately, he began to write - and Christendom hardly knew what had hit it!

He didn't ‘do’ much reasoned theology; he confronted. Wrong teachings, sloppy morals, lax leaders, cowardly faith, Tertullian laid into them all. His writing is passionate, with holy sarcasm - and at times still funny even today. You sense a 'wildness', a burning heart for integrity and justice, contemptuous of all compromise. Even so, Tertullian was deeply conscious of his personal failings; he wrote a piece on patience because he knew he had to learn it. Here are some examples:

At a time of fierce persecution, when many favoured fleeing, he wrote: The blood of the martyrs is [the] seed [of the church], adding that once you start fleeing, you will never stop fleeing!

Seeing the growing emphasis on education in church leadership, he cried: What has Athens [headquarters of Greek philosophy] got to do with Jerusalem!”

He took aim at worldly pursuits: All public entertainment damages the spirit.

He castigated the folly of persecutors: If the Tiber rises too high, or the Nile too low, the remedy is always to feed Christians to the lions.

He understood the fleshly human nature that he was confronting: The first reaction to truth is hatred.

Perhaps most biting of all is his judgement on self-centred living: Whoever lives only to benefit himself, benefits the world only when he dies!

In 202, at the height of his influence, Tertullian shocked everyone by joining a fringe movement called the Montanists. They spoke in tongues, prophesied, had dreams and visions, and promoted strict holy living. The mainstream Church immediately sidelined him but he didn't care. His prophetic heart chose spiritual life and movement before popularity.

Still his pen carried all before it. He defended celibacy; opposed military service; cried out against gladiator sports; promoted fasting and spiritual discipline; exhorted Church members to refuse any job carrying worldly prestige; and urged Christians not to accept any bishop who wasn't a spiritual man.

Tertullian died about 225. He stands out from the crowd as one who never lost his edge or his nerve. A colleague called him 'the first, the best, the incomparable'. Today, 1800 years on, his works are still read and valued by those who appreciate sharp-edged, confrontational writing and "aggressive" Christianity. Much of that confrontation, at least in his earlier writings, was against heretics, but Tertullian is also remembered as the first of the Church Fathers to formulate a doctrine of the Trinity.

Bernard of Clairvaux: Heart Love for Jesus

It's saying something when Protestant trailblazer Martin Luther, scourge of all things 'monkish', can write of one: He was the best monk that ever lived, whom I admire beyond all the rest put together. The object of his praise was Bernard of Clairvaux.

Bernard was born in 1090 in central France, son of a knight. In those days you expressed a radical commitment to Jesus by becoming a monk. Bernard had loved God from childhood, and at 22 he joined the monastery with the strictest lifestyle in the area, a foundation of the Cistercians. Such was his personal charisma that his uncle, several brothers, cousins and friends all went with him! In community his leadership skills were recognised. After only three years he was sent out to plant a new community, at Clairvaux, where he spent the remaining 28 years of his life.

Yet he couldn’t always be at home. His powerful intellect, big heart, and ability to sort out problems, were often called on by the Pope. He was sent to reconcile feuding towns. He thundered against bishops living in splendour and injustice. He put a stop to anti-Jewish riots in Germany (he is listed in Jewish chronicles as ‘a righteous Gentile’). He upheld Christian truth against false teachings. And this he did, not by human strength alone, but by the godliness and attractiveness of his spirit. He gained the nickname ‘Dr. Mellifluous’: the teacher whose teachings are as sweet as honey. When he died, he had founded 68 communities, and all of Europe mourned ‘the greatest saint of the age’.

The only blot on his reputation, viewed through today's eyes, is that he played his part in stirring up the Second Crusade against the Moslems. The charge is not wholly fair: he initially refused to do it, but was forced to by the Pope.

Bernard's life was energetic and involved in many areas, but his chief passion was not for public life but for the secret place of prayer and adoration. Not only teaching books flowed from his pen, but also hymns, poems and a deep meditation on the Song of Solomon (likening it to Christ and the human soul). His famous dictum is perhaps more vital today than in any previous centruy: God is known best by loving Him.

Here is a taster, taken from his most famous hymn:

Jesus, the very thought of Thee with sweetness fills the breast; But sweeter far Thy face to see, and in Thy presence rest... O Jesus, light of all below, Thou fount of living fire, Surpassing all the joys we know and all we can desire!

Power from the Past: the Jeffreys Brothers

I had not been aware of the existence of the George Jeffreys and Stephen Jeffreys Official Website, but I'm delighted that I found it here. The founders of the Elim Pentecostal Church were nothing if not bold and innovative in obeying the Great Commission to proclaim the gospel.

Their methods were bold and apostolic. In the economic depression of the 1920s and 30s, with dole queues and poverty, they would target an industrial city and rent a large hall. They were unknown, unsupported and often opposed by local churches. Meetings went on for weeks, the hall at first almost empty, but once news of the miraculous signs was out, it would be crammed. After the campaign they would buy a disused building, renovate it together, and Jeffreys would install a man he had trained as pastor of the new church. In this way, several hundred new churches were planted all over Britain.

Here, with due acknowledgement to the Jeffreys blog, is a contemporary report of a campaign which they held in liverpool, UK, in March 1926.

"Revival Fires are burning in Liverpool. Although the campaign only started on Sunday 14th March, by the middle of the week the church was packed out. Hundreds have been saved and there have been many remarkable healings." It was not long before the secular press began to report what was happening in these meetings, including the Yorkshire Observer, which referred to "the extraordinary scenes being reported at a disused Liverpool Chapel." The Daily Despatch of 18th March carried the following report: "Remarkable scenes of religious fervour are being witnessed at the little chapel in Windsor Street. Several remarkable 'cures' have been claimed by sick and maimed people who have been anointed with oil during the campaign. Several of the patients whom the pastor described as being under the power of God, swooned and lay trembling for some moments."

The Daily Despatch went on to list some of the healings that had already taken place including a five year old girl suffering from Infantile Paralysis, a woman healed of deafness, a man from heart disease, and two people from paralysis. On the following day (19th March), five days after the commencement, the Daily Despatch carried the following report: "Hundreds of people had to be turned away from yesterday's services. Queues began to assemble outside the chapel two hours before the meeting commenced. As soon as the doors were open crowds began to clamour for admission, choking the aisles and every available inch of space. A crowd just as large could not gain admission and had to remain outside, while a few yards along the street other evangelists conducted open-air services until long after ten o'clock. So great was the pressure inside that the pastor was unable to anoint any of the people with oil and the service was terminated prematurely. Nevertheless a number of people testified to healing including a woman who had been dumb for many years, and two women healed of deafness."

Overcoming Limitations: Quaker Martyr James Parnell

Courageous faith isn’t just for special, brave people. Some of God’s heroes had to overcome serious limitations, even to get started. One such was James Parnell. He was a delicate lad, short for his age and sensitive. He loved Jesus and sensed there must be more than going to the parish church.

In 1653, when he was 16, he heard of George Fox, the leader of the Quakers, who was in prison in Carlisle. Weak as he was, James walked the 150 miles and, fainting with exhaustion, was allowed to visit Fox. We have no record of their conversation, but Parnell was filled with the Holy Spirit and commissioned by Fox to be an evangelist.

He had just two years of life left, but they were amazingly fruitful. A colleague at the time wrote: ‘He was of a poor appearance, a mere youth, coming against giants; yet the wisdom of man was made to bow before the Spirit by which he spoke.'

Disinherited and turned out of home by his parents, Parnell set about the work of the gospel. Sometimes with a partner, sometimes alone, he went from house to house, as his colleague reported, ‘preaching, praying, exhorting, and turning the minds of all sorts of people to the light of Jesus.’ He was ridiculed for his size, and often after preaching he was exhausted. Faith kept him going. Hearing that two Quakers had been whipped at Cambridge, he went there and preached himself.

Finally, Parnell was arrested and imprisoned in Colchester. “I am committed to be kept a prisoner, but I am the Lord’s free-man,” he wrote. His jailers starved him for days at a time, then let him climb down a rope to get food. The jailer’s wife and daughter used to beat him, and on occasions he was locked outside in mid-winter. It was too much for his weak constitution. One day he had no strength left to climb the rope but fell to the concrete below, and died of his injuries, aged 18. He was the first of several hundred Quaker martyrs. His last words to the Essex brethren were: "Be willing that self shall suffer for the truth, and not the truth for self."

Peter Orseolo - Leader of Men

After following a theme for some time, I realised that a number of "one-offs" were very deserving of a mention in this blog. And where better to start than Peter Orseolo (928-927) - a role model for masculine Christianity.

His life reads rather like an novel. Adventure, intrigue, unusual twists in the plot, it's all there. He was a nobleman from Venice and even as a youth had a reputation for strength. So, when Venice needed a commander to lead a fleet against the pirates who terrorised the Adriatic, they chose Orseolo - aged only 20. And he won, sweeping the marauders from Venetian shores.

In 976 there were riots in Venice. The Doge (the chief magistrate and ruler of Venice) was murdered and a large part of the city was destroyed by fire. A strong and competent leader was needed, so whom did they choose? Peter Orseolo was made the new Doge and set about the huge task of reconstruction.

He showed himself a remarkable statesman and one of the greatest rulers of Venice. He made peace between enemies. He built hospitals and set up social programs to care for widows, orphans and pilgrims. He began rebuilding St Mark's Cathedral, icon of the city.

Then, in September 978, at the height of his powers, he disappeared! Not even his wife and son knew where he was. An extensive search finally traced him to a Benedictine monastery on the border of France and Spain. Had he felt crushed by responsibilities? Perhaps, but he revealed later that God had been troubling his heart for 10 years aver the call to renounce everything to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.

Orseolo cut himself off from all his past life and achievements and put himself under the guidance of the abbot of Cuxa, dedicating himself to prayer. But the lion did not altogether become a lamb! He brought to the monastery his fighting spirit, attracting spiritual brothers and sons by his steely determination and innate leadership charisma.

The Essence of a Soul Friend": Spiritual Depth

The final thread running through the Celtic missionaries' understanding of the "soul friend" is, broadly, spirituality. They understood that, however essential and fulfilling a deep human bond might be, it could not take the place of a friendship with God. Indeed, such relationships flowed directly from such a love-bond with God.

They saw God as the true friend, the pattern of all friendship, the centre of a wheel in which all human soul-friendships are vital spokes. One example illustrates this well.

When his mentor and bishop died, Finbar (also written Finbarr or Findbar) felt bereft, so he went to see his friend Eolang. Eolang had been praying and had received a word from God for Finbar. He knelt before him and said: "I offer you my church and my soul." Finbar wept and would have none of it, but Eolang persisted. "Let it be so, for this is the will of God. You are dear to Him and you are greater than I. Only grant me this, that we may live and die in the same place."

Here it is clear that the heavenly dimension enriched the human beyond what it could have achieved itself.

The Celtic anamcharas (soul friends) appreciated that solitude and companionship had to be kept in a creative balance. Both were essential for what they called "soul-making": the lifelong process of making peace with God, with oneself, with others, and with all of creation. Soul friends are committed to helping one another make this journey successfully.

The need for such committed love has perhaps never been greater than in the post-Christian West. May these examples stir hunger and faith for a new movement of faith and application in the areas of soul-friendship listed in these posts, for the good of all our souls!

The Essence of a "Soul Friend": Mutuality

Another key aspect of heart-friendship, as conceived by the early Celtic missionaries, was mutuality. This shows itself in two principal ways.

First, the sharing of common values. The Celtic fathers and mothers, even a century apart, had a common vision of reality. They also seem on occasions to have received common intuitions - especially when it came to sensing the potential of future leaders. When Ciaran went to the island of Aran to visit his friend Enda, they both saw the same spiritual vision of a fruitful tree growing by a stream in the centre of Ireland, protecting the whole land. They both interpreted it the same way, too: that Ciaran would become that great tree and should found his monastery in the very centre of Ireland.

What shines clearly from the written lives of the Celtic saints is the profound respect which they showed for each other's wisdom and guidance - despite age or gender differences. They genuinely saw each brother or sister as a potential source of many blessings from God. The biographies often convey this symbolically, through the gesture of giving gifts. Although they lived poor, special gifts conveyed profound respect and mutuality: a ring, a bell, a hand-made wooden box, or maybe a horse.

In our day, where western society carries almost toxic levels of suspicion where any heart-closeness is concerned - especially same-gender and cross-generational, these examples are a poignant reminder of what has gone missing. Who will be courageous and humble enough to pioneer such mutuality today?

The Essence of a "Soul Friend": Directness

Another key aspect of the Celtic Christian "anamchara" (soul-friend) relationship was directness: the honesty and trust which enabled the challenging of one another on occasions.

Edward Sellner records the example of the godly woman Canair, who at the end of her life determined to visit the saintly Senan at his monastery on Inis Cathaig (Scattery Island in Munster). Senan met her at the jetty and told her to go to her sister's home on another nearby island. "That is not why I came", said Canair. "I came to find hospitality here."

"But women are not allowed on this island," Senan replied, to which Canair retorted: "Christ suffered for the sake of women as much as for the sake of men. Women as well as men may enter the heavenly kingdom." "You are persistent!", commented Senan (and we will never know the expression on his face). "Well then," said she, "will I get what I asked for? Will you let me live and die on this island?" Convinced, Senan granted her request.

Another example concerns Brendan the Navigator (referred to in the last post), who on his travels came to the monastery of Emly in Munster, where the patriarch Ailbe had presided for many years. Brendan burned with questions, but Ailbe's was a silent order! The monastery schoolmaster (who ipso facto was allowed to speak) had to rebuke Brendan and his companions for chatter. But Brendan persisted and Ailbe, recognising in the young man all the qualities of a future leader, broke his own rule and spoke, teaching him many things.

Edward Sellner writes:

'Soul friend relationships are characterised by mutuality; a profound respect for each other's wisdom, despite any age or gender difference; and the awareness that the other person is a source of many blessings.'

It is this foundation of complete respect and affection which gives the platform for brotherly correction. As the Bible puts it: As iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens a man. [Proverbs 27:17]

The Essence of a "Soul Friend": Affection

In his article, 'Early Celtic Soul Friendship', Edward Sellner demonstrates that in 6th century Ireland, all the movers and shakers of Celtic Christianity had their "soul friends" (in Gaelic: anamchara), and were in turn "soul friends" to others. The biographies of these saints 'reveal how common soul-friend relationships were between men and men, women and women, and women and men.'

Pride of place must go to Finnian (470-549), founder of the great monastery at Clonard in County Meath, where it is said that up to 3,000 pupils came to sit at his feet when he expounded the scriptures. If St Patrick had been the pioneer, Finnian was the father of the church in Ireland. 'It was he who tutored and acted as a spiritual guide to so many of the early founders of the other large monasteries, such as Columcille [Columba] of Iona and Ciaran of Clonmacnoise.'

Finnian genuinely loved his disciples. In his letters to Ciaran, he would call him 'dear one' and 'o little heart', always adding a personal blessing.

In some cases, these deep, mentoring relationships came about through a disciple choosing a master, but in the case of Kevin of Glendalough, he was entrusted as a child to the wise care of three monks who became as dear as fathers to him.

Kevin and Ciaran were true heart-friends. When Ciaran lay dying, he refused to let go on life until Kevin had come. When Kevin came, the two spent many hours in loving conversation, then shared Communion together. Ciaran blessed Kevin and gave him a little bell as a sign of their lasting unity. Then he died.

Women had these relationships, too, and not just among women. Ite (or Ita), abbess of Killeedy in County Limerick, was mentor to so many male leaders that she is known as "the Fostermother of the Saints". She was especially close to Brendan, sometimes called 'the Navigator' because of his voyages. Their biographers record how Brendan would smile warmly whenever he thought of Ita, many miles away; and how Ita would feel the slow drag of time whenever Brendan was away. And in the 8th century "Liber Angeli" we read: Between Patrick and Brigid, pillars of the Irish, there existed so great a friendship of charity that they were of one heart and one mind.

The "Soul Friends" of Celtic Christianity, Introduction

We've looked at what some of the big names in 4th century 'Eastern' Christianity had to say about Christian heart-friendship. Now we need to go West, and a couple of centuries later, and look at the equivalent in Celtic Christianity.

At which point I discover that someone has already done the work: Edward Sellner, Professor of Theology at St Catherine's University, Minnesota. In several articles and one book, he has waded through the biographies of the early Celtic missionary saints and extracted plenty of material on friendship. So in what follows, I am simply offering a résumé of some of his findings, while happily pointing the interested reader to Sellner's works.

Hagiography, the writing of the lives of saintly men and women in history, is not without its pitfalls. To what extent were some, less praiseworthy, deeds or traits edited out? Are quotations genuine and from written sources? Or did the aim of 'creating' a saint override all other considerations? The need for proven miracles (in order for the saint to be officially recognised as one) can lead to seemingly far-fetched stories. And finally, symbolism and symbolic acts play a large part, and we can never be sure whether our interpretation of that action was really what was in the saint's mind at the time.

All that said, there is plenty to be found that points to a developed and greatly valued concept of heart-friendship, which in Celtic tradition was called "soul friendship". Over the next few posts I would like to explore these examples further, to see how relevant the ancient wisdom is to today's dislocated and lonely world.

Friendships Across the Generations

Before leaving Augustine of Hippo, we do well to look at a different but equally deep heart-friendship which meant the world to him: the bond with his mother, Monica.

She was a committed Christian when Augustine was growing up; she counselled him as a youth to avoid adultery; suffered in secret, "her tears watering the ground" [Augustine's retrospective words] as he indulged his sinful passions; and sought to enlist a bishop's help when her son got involved with a heretical sect. When finally Augustine turned to Christ in Milan, Monica was there at his baptism. Then, at 56, Monica died. Augustine recalls one of their last meetings, at Ostia, the port of Rome.

We were alone and talked together, and very sweet it was. We discussed what the eternal life of the saints could be like... With the mouth of our hearts we thirsted for the heavenly streams of His fountain, the fountain of life. Then, as our affections burned still more strongly towards [God], we rose higher and transcended our souls. As we talked, yearning towards this heavenly Wisdom, we did just lightly come into contact with it.

Here we have, encapsulated, the meaning of true Christian friendship as Augustine viewed it: two hearts united in one heavenly vision, helping one another on to discover more of God's infinite love. When Monica died, Augutine's life was, 'as it were, torn apart, since it had been a life made up of hers and mine together'.

Church historian Henry Chadwick believes that Monica was Augustine's "supreme friend". From her he developed his great capacity for intimate friendships with both men and women. The 19th century father of psychoanalysis, Carl Jung, had a field day with this and attributed Augustine's friendship emphasis to an over-developed feminine side to his nature. This, however, is 19th century thinking and in no way the ethos of the late 4th century. It also misses the fact that Augustine had a full-blooded male libido throughout his twenties and prior to his conversion.

We do better to see in the Augustine-Monica relationship the enriching power of friendship across the generations. This is, sadly, the exception rather than the norm today. Many people will have positive memories of grandparents, but this will probably have been at a level of kindness and generosity, not a cultivated, honest mentorship. And we are poorer for it!

Here, Joshua Harris, a young pastor, writes about the preciousness of the mentoring relationship he had with an older 'father in the Lord'. "Looking back, I’ve become even more aware of what a rare gift God gave me in my relationship with [name]. Sadly, my experience is unique. There are many young adults who desire to sit at the feet of mature Christians. But how many older Christians are willing to let them sit there?" And here, John Piper offers advice to younger friends on how to encourage and not idolise a father-friend figure of an older generation.