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Noah
February 27, 2021
The figure of Noah continues to present itself to me this Lent. The forty days and nights of the flood immediately evoke Lent. But there is more. The destruction of corruption; the purification coming from God; the confrontation with dying – to evil, to the sinful self; the carrying of the burden of sin. Noah – of the first generation to not know Adam, the original and all good creation. Noah – finding favor with God; walking with God like his grandfather Enoch; preserving with himself his own next generation. And for me: seeking within myself in Lent what is good, picked from among the corruption of my life: what is redeemable, salvageable, favored. Entering into the ark: of the covenant, of the tabernacle, of prayer. This from Abbot Matthew’s reading of Augustine this week: “Lord, see your work in me, not my own work. For if you see my own work, you condemn me. But if you see yours, you crown me.” God finds His work in Noah. May he find it in me. May I enter into the ark of Lenten life, whose somber constrictions inform all monastic and Christian life, Benedict says, in hope of discovering with Noah the blessed life of a new covenant.
Pax,
Blake Billings
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Not Weighing Our Merits
February 20, 2021
“Not weighing our merits…” This phrase resonated within me in the Eucharistic prayer this morning. This is our request of God at the altar: please do not weigh our merits. The mistake, then: making Lenten efforts, or any act of piety or devotion, about gaining merit. …And yet, what of the right and righteous Lenten pursuit of worthiness: “… that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ,” as the Angelus concludes. Is this a contradiction? Ultimately, I hope not. I remember a recent book called The Happiness Project, its title derived from a grounded and focused year-long pursuit of happiness. But Lent, in fact all Christian life, strikes me more as timed and targeted Worthiness Project – seeking worthiness of God and God’s kingdom. But if that is so, how, then, our Eucharistic request that God please not weigh our merits? Can we ever be “worthy of the promises of Christ”? Perhaps the key to unlock this mystery is in the details of the prayer of the Angelus: to be made worthy. In the Christian “Worthiness Project,” we shall not make ourselves so. Anything good in yourself - it is from God, and any evil - that is what you supplied on your own, St. Benedict says. So: at the end of this Lenten journey, not even then, please, to weigh my merits. ...But maybe then, hopefully, to discern that God’s grace has made me worthy. Worthy of goodness I have not achieved. Worthy of joys found only through grace. Worthy of the happiness that I have not merited.Pax,
Blake Billings, Ph.D.
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Lent Otherwise
February 13, 2021
The theme of “coincidence” echoed through this week’s articles – Dan McDonough seeing it as inadequate to the task of interpreting some events, and Brother Sixtus’ talk preferring the concept of “providence.” I thought of this in lectio divina and the Augustinian practice of “tolle, lege” (“Take, read!”): of opening “randomly,” “coincidentally” to a Biblical passage. I have taken to doing this with my smartphone lately, assisted by “Random.org” to pick a book, chapter, and verse to read.In doing so this week, I was looking for Lent. I sought a passage to direct my upcoming Lenten practice. I was led “randomly” to 2 Timothy 2:10: “Therefore, I bear with everything for the sake of those who are chosen, so that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, together with eternal glory.” The surrounding verses of 2 Timothy 2 speak of the soldier who refrains from entanglements, the athlete who trains, the farmer who works hard. They speak of the need to persevere, to “die with Christ.” I was looking for Lent: I think I found it. But in verse 10, most jarring for me was Paul’s purpose in undergoing all hardships: “for the sake of those who are chosen, that they may obtain salvation.” Paul’s perseverance, and so my Lenten practice, must not be about self. “My” practice is not for me. Paul undergoes his sufferings so that others may be saved. This was for me a two-edged sword. One edge was the encouraging realization that it may in fact be easier to persevere if I am doing so for the sake of others. I will think of this during Lent: offer it as a prayer for others, to be more for them, a sacrifice for the sake of those I am called to love and to serve. But the second edge: a more devastating realization – the terrible guilt in neglecting others, those in need, those who are suffering, those who seek consolation, those who suffer injustice. How have I failed them? Lent just got a whole lot more serious.
And so, back to our articles this week – on the foundation and development of Manquehue, on the mission of Consecrated Life… Life for others, this kind of Pauline perseverance, is seen in the inspiration of those who found schools and movements; of those who offer their lives to be consecrated to God’s service. This mission-minded dedication, I think, reveals an authentic Lenten spirit, expressed so powerfully in 2 Timothy 2. May the Providence that led me to see this message also guide me in Perseverance as I pursue it.
Pax,
Blake Billings, Ph.D.
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Better to Light a Candle
February 6, 2021
I found myself inspired by the beauty of this week’s feast of the Presentation. The display of candles in the sanctuary captured my imagination - and opened a horizon of hope. There is a profound significance in simple candles, in the simple act of lighting a candle. The candle flame is so gentle, so vulnerable, yet intensely powerful. It is like prayer. And now, in the depth of darkness of our pandemic, with many “hitting the wall” as I read in a recent article, it is good to return to the gift of candles. Entering the midst of February, the longest month it seems, we should return to our candlepower. This of course has a figurative sense: how may we “light a candle” in our lives? The creation of the display of candles was for me itself the igniting of hope. Listening to our Manquehue guests express their faith was another. Seeing a picture of Dom Wilfrid at work on the painting of a coat of arms: the stroke of the brush like a stroke of the match, itself a mode of evangelization. I begin to wonder how I might light a candle or two: reaching out with a call or message, offering encouragement and affirmation, stopping to breathe and give thanks. And let me offer a more material and quite literal suggestion: setting aside fifteen minutes of prayer, incorporating the literal lighting of a candle. Seeking thus to sanctify moments of the day - morning, evening – and through them the entire day. Rediscovering gratitude. Then seeking to pass it on. As we move forward through this dark time, let us not forget it is indeed better to light a candle.Pax,
Blake Billings, Ph.D.
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What I Have
At my wedding, Dom Ambrose Wolverton in his homily referred to a quotation from Henry Beecher Ward, which concludes: “What I gave, I have.” I have returned to this phrase often over the intervening years, drawing from it consolation, clarification, exhortation. I am repeatedly most deeply distressed not by what I have lost, but by all that I have refused to give. I am sure I will be held accountable for it, sooner or later. Yet I also believe, hope, that amidst that accounting, I will realize yet more profoundly what it means that God for-gives. Fr. Edward’s reflection in this issue on the Presentation and his monastic and priestly vocations drew me to Beecher Ward’s reverse economy. All that is given up in the evangelical counsels; all that is given up in the Benedictine vows. Yet it is the seed there buried that bears fruit. Whether married life or monastic, it seems, the art of living is in the giving.
This points to a stunning reverse economy found in the Presentation. In Judaism, the ritual focuses on a breathtaking act of redemption: the people of Israel must “redeem” their children, sacrificing to God who has demanded the first born, “buying back” the child through sacrifices. This demand of the firstborn seems to echo the exorbitant demand made of Abraham, to sacrifice his only son. The demand recurs so painfully with Mary, who later indeed will be pierced by the same double-edged sword. But in the Presentation, as on Moriah – these great reversals – it turns out to be God who is doing the sacrificing. “God Himself will provide the Lamb,” Abraham says. And God blesses him: “…because you have not withheld your son, your only son…” But our Christian faith returns to this reversal, and we know who it is that has not withheld His Son. We know, with Mary, whose Son is being Presented. May we imagine with great joy that both Abraham and Mary now acclaim: “What I gave, I have.” May we continue to learn, whether in family life or monastic, what it means to be in the image of a God who holds nothing of Himself back from us.
Pax,
Blake Billings, Ph.D.
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About
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Blake Billings '77, Ph.D. is a graduate and current faculty member of Portsmouth Abbey School. He received his undergraduate education at Dartmouth College in New Hampshire, then joining the Jesuit Volunteer Corps to assist in an inner-city parish in Oakland, California. From Oakland, he went to Leuven, Belgium, receiving degrees in theology and philosophy. He returned to the Abbey in 1987, teaching for three years before getting married and returning to Leuven to pursue a Ph.D. in philosophy, which he was awarded in 1995. Having taught in higher education at various schools, including St. John's University, Fairfield University, and Sacred Heart University, he decided his calling was at the secondary level, gratefully returning to Portsmouth in 1996, where he has resided ever since. He became an oblate of the Portsmouth community ten years ago. His four children were all raised on campus and graduated from the school, the youngest in 2020.
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