The Prologue

In twenty years we will celebrate the second millennium of the Christian Era. But the question is: “‘Will there be anything to celebrate?” Many voices wonder if humanity can survive its own destructive powers.  As we reflect on the increasing poverty and hunger, the rapidly spreading hatred and violence within as well as between countries, and the frightening buildup of nuclear weapons systems, we come to realize that our world has embarked on a suicidal journey. We are painfully reminded of the words of John the Evangelist:

The Word…the true light…was coming into the world…that had its being through him, and the world did not know him. He came to his own domain and his own people did not accept him. (John 1:9-11).

It seems that the darkness is thicker than ever, that the powers of evil are more blatantly visible than ever, and that children of God are being tested more severely than ever.

During the last few years, I have been wondering what it means to be a minister in such a situation. What is required of men and women who want to bring light into the darkness, “to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord’s year of favor” (Luke 4:18-19)?  What is required of a man or a woman who is called to enter fully into the turmoil and agony of the times and speak a word of hope?

It is not difficult to see that in this fearful and painful period of our history we who minister in parishes, schools, universities, hospitals, and prisons are having a difficult time fulfilling our task of making the light of Christ shine into the darkness.  Many of us have adapted ourselves too well to the general mood of lethargy. Others among us have become tired, exhausted, disappointed, bitter, resentful, or simply bored. Still others have remained active and involved—but have ended up living more in their own name than in the Name of Jesus Christ. This is not so strange. The pressures in the ministry are enormous, the demands are increasing, and the satisfactions diminishing. How can we expect to remain full of creative vitality, of a zeal for the Word of God, of desire to serve, and of motivation to inspire our often-numbed congregations? Where are we supposed to find nurture and strength?  How can we alleviate our own spiritual hunger and thirst?

To structure my reflections, I will use a story told by Abba (Father). Arsenius was a well-educated Roman of senatorial rank who lived at the court of Emperor Theodosius as tutor to the princes Arcadius and Honorius. While still living in the palace, ABBA Arsenius prays to God in these words, “Lord lead me in the way of salvation.” And a voice came saying to him, “Arsenius, flee from the world and you will be saved.”

Having sailed secretly from Rome to Alexandria and having withdrawn to the solitary life (in the desert) Arsenius prayed again: “Lord lead me in the way of salvation” and again he heard voice saying, “Arsenius, flee, be silent, pray always, for these are the sources of sinlessness”.

The words flee, be silent and pray summarize the spirituality of the desert. They indicate the three ways of preventing the world from shaping us in its image and are thus the three ways to life in the spirit.

My first task is to explore what it means for us to flee from the world. This raises the question of solitude. My second task is to refine silence as an essential element of the spirituality of ministry. Finally, I want to challenge you with the vocation to pray always.