The Heavenly Banquet

It's Good to Be the Bishop!

2012-03-29T23:24:00.000-04:00

The wonderful and terrifying thing about St. Basil's sermon "To the Rich" is how truthful and forceful it is. He unequivocally equates the accumulation of wealth with a lack of love. He denounces inheritances as burdens that lead beneficiaries into sin, and he employs the claws of snark to evisceration those planning to leave their estates to charity. When I read this sermon, I find myself both cheering and wincing. It's a good word! It's a challenging word! It's exactly what needs to be said, but goodness, I can't believe he said it!

Basil adopts the voice of an Old Testament prophet detailing the inequality and injustice that immediately surrounds him. He doesn't attack this issue with rhetorical questions or a story from a distant region or a related movie clip. He unabashedly condemns members of his own congregation for their greed, their vanity and their selfishness. While our modern homiletics textbooks urge preaching students to refrain from using "you" statements in favor of the less personal "one" or possibly the bold "we," Basil doesn't soften his words by putting some hypothetical other on trial. He looks directly at his congregation and accuses them of these misdeeds:

You gorgeously array your walls, but do not clothe your fellow human being; you adorn horses, but turn away from the shameful plight of your brother or sister; you allow grain to rot in your barns, but do not feed those who are starving; you hide gold in the earth, but ignore the oppressed! ... Indeed, you refuse to give anything, insisting that it is impossible to satisfy the needs of those who beg of you. You profess this to be true with your tongue, but your hand gives you the lie; silently, your hand bears witness to the falsehood, flashing as it does with the jewels from your ring. How many could you have delivered from want with but a single ring from your finger? How many households fallen into destitution might you have raised? In just one of your closets there are enough clothes to cover an entire town shivering with cold. You showed no mercy; it will not be shown to you. You opened not your house; you will be expelled from the Kingdom. You gave not your bread; you will not receive eternal life.

Who can stand the force of this word? Who can bear the assault of this word? And who can find the strength to wield it against her congregation? Basil had the privilege of being bishop. This word didn't put him at risk of offending elders who would then call for his resignation. As professional clergy we are in the nearly impossible position of being charged with proclaiming a prophetic word while finding ourselves obligated to appease the trustees who supply our livelihood. Rather than bite the hand that feeds us, we're forced to nibble, to offer a little love nip that might convey a message without offending. That preaching offers veiled suggestions of sin, allegations of guilt and insinuations of responsibility with the hope that listeners might solve the puzzle we've put before them and discern what we're really trying to say. At what point though can we no longer risk a misunderstanding of our words? With a global economic crisis, ongoing wars, xenophobia, homophobia, racism, ageism, misogyny and bigotry, is it time to replace our "some people" with "you" and our "they" with the names and faces of the people we've hurt? Is it time to risk being plain with our language because we can no longer risk being mistaken? Is it time to go full on Basil with our congregations?
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St. Basil the Great, "To the Rich," in On Social Justice, trans. C. Paul Schroeder (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2009) 47-49.

St. Basil Offers a Snarky Word on Estate Planning

2012-03-28T22:40:00.001-04:00

In our last post we saw Basil point to the dangers of leaving one's wealth to her children because she could be leading her children into the sin of using wealth for personal gain instead of an aid to the poor. It seems like a better solution might be to leave one's estate to charity, right? Wrong:

Yet you say, "I will enjoy all of these things during my life, but after my death I will leave my goods to the poor, making beneficiaries of my will and granting them all my possessions." When you are no longer among your fellow human beings, then you will become a philanthropist! When I see you dead, then I will call you a lover of your brothers and sisters! You deserve great thanks for your magnanimity, since you became so generous and noble-hearted after you were laid in the grave and your body had dissolved in the earth.

You can't win the game once the play is over.

Oh, snark alert! Basil makes plain that failure to love one's neighbor during one's lifetime isn't a fault that can be corrected by promising generosity in one's death. For starters, Basil insists that whatever cosmic scorecard you have gets tallied when you die. You can't earn a million bonus points in your "good deeds" column after your death because you're plain through playing the game of life. If that doesn't make you feel absurd, Basil adds the practical note that you'll have no real control over the execution of your will because, well, you'll be dead. Even the best documented will is subject to the interpretation of others, and a few false witnesses can undo your best intentions. Unfortunately, Basil doesn't even think your intentions are very good. "Read your own will: 'I wish I could have gone on living and enjoying my own things, but...' Thus the gratitude is due to death, not to you." Ouch. Someone call the burn unit.

So what is one to do? The only option Basil offers is to be so engaged in constantly giving to the poor that one simply has nothing that could be passed on after death. What Basil demands in that instruction is that we devote ourselves tirelessly to caring for the needs of others. It's a tall order. It's a hard word, but at the end of the day, Basil understands it as nothing more than a means of honoring the commandment to love our neighbor.

And maybe we should just do that so Basil will stop bullying us.
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St. Basil the Great, "To the Rich," in On Social Justice, trans. C. Paul Schroeder (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2009) 55-56.

Who Will Inherit Our Sin?

2012-03-27T23:21:00.001-04:00

In our first look at Basil's sermon "To the Rich" we saw him condemn wealth as evidence of a failure to love one's neighbor. Basil continues his sermon by tackling the issue of inheritances. As we journey toward the upcoming seminar on "Pastoral Care in the Context of Wealth," Basil's words offer us some advice on one of the practical issues that we expect to hear addressed there. Listen up, world!

Reading the Will by David Wilkie, 1820

The really wonderful thing about this section is that Basil again frames his argument in terms of uplifting the law of love. Now one might assume that leaving an inheritance is a sign of love to one's beneficiaries. That's how we interpret a will, isn't it? An estate is usually distributed to those persons or organizations for whom the deceased most cared so that they might flourish after his departure. If we didn't understand inheritances that way, then we wouldn't get to enjoy all of those scandalous soap opera plots in which we discover that our hero left his fortune to a secret mistress or an illegitimate son or his unknown homosexual lover. Who wants to miss out on those?

But we're forgetting what Basil said about wealth. It's no prize; it's an obligation to be used for the benefit of the neighbor. An inheritance then is something of a burden. Passing on wealth is passing on the task of distributing it to one's neighbors. The tricky thing though is that there's just no telling whether or not your beneficiaries will act so benevolently because, well, you'll be dead:

Who will vouch for the prudence of your children, that they will use what is left to them for good ends? For many, wealth becomes an aid to immortality. Or do you not hear what is said in Ecclesiastes, "There is a grievous ill that I have seen under the sun: riches were kept by their owners to their heart," and moreover, "I will leave that for which I have toiled to those who come after me, and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish?" Take care then, lest after countless efforts to acquire riches, you end up providing others with resources to commit sins. In that case, you find yourself doubly punished, both for acting unjustly in your own right, and for furnishing others with the opportunity to do the same.

Well, what is one to do then? If we leave our wealth to our children, then we risk contributing to their sinfulness. According to Basil that leaves us again being found guilty of failing the commandment to love our neighbor. Surely troubling our children with the means of sin is no way to love them. What's left to do?

(Hint: If you are thinking that we should leave all of our wealth to charity, then you're a different kind of wrong.)

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St. Basil the Great, "To the Rich," in On Social Justice, trans. C. Paul Schroeder (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2009) 54.

For Me or For My Neighbor? For Both of Us?

2012-03-26T22:40:00.001-04:00

When other early preachers encountered Matthew 19:16-22 they heard Jesus telling that young man to leave his possessions because those things hindered him from pursuing a more perfect life of discipleship. You see, the emphasis here is on the young man, his relationship with God and his election to salvation. The problem, in fact, doesn't really concern the young man's possessions but rather his attachment to them. That attachment to worldly things is denounced as a competing love to the love of God, and the young man's obsession with his possessions is compared to a form of slavery binding him from engaging more spiritual thoughts and practices.

We've already seen this with Antony's story. The thrust here isn't "give so that you might help others" but "unload yourself so you can go." Clement of Alexandria was likewise convinced that the passage is about the act of loosing oneself from the attachment to goods rather than the work of giving those goods to others. Clement doesn't even think that it is necessary for the young man to abandon his possessions if he is able to renounce his attachment to them:

[The teaching] is not what some hastily take it to be, a command to fling away the substance that belongs to him and to part with his riches, but to banish from the soul its opinions about riches, its attachment to them, its anxious cares, the thorns of our earthly existence, which choke the seed of true life.¹

Stop polishing your yacht and start praising the Lord!

That's not bad. Clement points to a basic problem with having stuff. Thinking about stuff, accumulating stuff, maintaining stuff, and protecting stuff all take up the time one could be using to pray to God, read the Scriptures or go to Mass. True, I'd probably feel like I was in a better relationship with the Divine if I had spent the morning singing the Psalms instead of getting the oil changed in the car. That's fair, but Basil pops on the scene to remind me that my stuff isn't just creating some issue between me and Jesus but that the real burn is the trouble my possessions are causing between me and my neighbor.

Basil's understanding of the text here hinges on the final commandment that Jesus lists for the young man, "Also, you shall love your neighbor as yourself." When the young man then claims that he has done all of these things, Jesus responds with the instruction to "sell your possessions, and give to the poor" as the means by which the young man would become perfect in obedience to this great commandment. It's a "slow your roll" moment: Really? You've been good to your neighbor? Are you sure? Then why do you have while they have not? Basil doesn't pull any punches with this address to his congregation:

It is thus evident that you are far from fulfilling the commandment, and that you bear false witness within your own soul that you have loved your neighbor as yourself. Look, the Lord's offer shows how distant you are from true love! For if what you say is true, that you have kept from your youth the commandment of love and have given to everyone the same as to yourself, then how did you come by this abundance of wealth? Care for the needy requires the expenditure of wealth: when all share alike, disbursing their possessions among themselves, they each receive a small portion for their individual needs. Thus, those who love their neighbor as themselves possess nothing more than their neighbor; yet surely, you seem to have great possessions! How else can this be, but that you have preferred your own enjoyment to the consolation of the many? For the more you abound in wealth, the more you lack in love.²

Aw, smack! What do you think? Is this a better angle? Are you more persuaded by arguments to abandon goods for your sake or for your neighbor's benefit? Do you think that certain audiences might be more responsive to one line of reasoning over the other? How? What do you make of all of this?

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¹Clement of Alexandria, "The Rich Man's Salvation," in Clement of Alexandria, trans. G.W. Butterworth, Loeb Classical Library 92 (Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University Press, 1919), 290-293.
²St. Basil the Great, "To the Rich," in On Social Justice, trans. C. Paul Schroeder (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2009) 43.

The Hospitality of Abraham

2012-02-29T21:42:00.001-05:00

Abbey of Saint-Pierre de Moissac

Chrysostom concludes his second sermon on Lazarus and the Rich Man by asking why it should be Abraham and not any other patriarch that the Rich Man sees with Lazarus. In short, "Abraham was hospitable" (50). He was the absolute model of the charity that the Rich Man denied Lazarus. Not only does it seem fitting that Lazarus now be comforted with the blessings of hospitality from this master, but this tableau also serves to reenforce the Rich Man's punishment. Let there be no mistake as to why the Rich Man endures these torments. He is there because he scorned countless opportunities in his earthly life to do even once what Abraham now does for all eternity.

Well, let's not let that happen to us! How do we practice the hospitality of Abraham? Chrysostom equips us for the task by detailing three characteristics of the charity practiced by Abraham:

Abraham didn't simply welcome those who came to him. He didn't just give a meal to those who found his house, knocked on the door and asked for help. He went in search of folks. Chrysostom compares Abraham to a fisherman trying to snag guests with whom to share fellowship: "For that patriarch hunted out those who were going past and brought them into his own; but this rich man overlooked the one who was lying inside his gate. ... The patriarch was not a man like this, but quite the opposite: sitting before his door he angled for all those who were going by" (51). Hospitality for Abraham was no passive thing in the sense of simply being prepared to receive guests. Abraham actively sought strangers to invite into his home.
Abraham entertained angels not because they were angels but only because they were travelers in need of hospitality. There is nothing particularly virtuous about welcoming those who would seem to honor us with their presence. As Chrysostom notes, "You also, when you receive someone famous and illustrious, if you show great eagerness, have done nothing remarkable, for the virtue of the guest often forces even the inhospitable person to show great good will. It is great and remarkable, however, when we receive anyone who happens by, even outcasts and worthless people, with great good will" (51).
And now here is the part where Chrysostom throws another barb at us. It's not just, "Go out into the world and invite anyone you see over for dinner." He wants to make sure that we don't ever, at any time, do absolutely anything that even pretends to evaluate one's worthiness to receive charity beyond the mere existence of a presenting need that we can fulfill. So called "good hungry people" are in no way more deserving of bread than "bad hungry people." The only qualifier we should note is "hungry." Chrysostom admonishes us to be like Abraham who "did not inquire of those who were going by who they were and where they came from, as we do now; he simply welcomed all who were passing be. For if you wish to show kindness, you must not require an accounting of a person's life, but merely correct his poverty and fill his need" (52).

What? We aren't supposed to check i.d.'s or administer drug tests or investigate possible criminal histories before feeding people? Chrysostom, it sounds like you don't want us to ask people anything at all that provides them an opportunity to demonstrate their credibility. How will we know if we can trust them to live right, to act right, to treat us right? And goodness, we don't even know anything at all about what they might believe! Wouldn't this be a good time to ask if they've accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior? No? Just feed hungry people because they are hungry? As Chrysostom answers, "Need alone is the poor man's worthiness" (53).

The bad news is that we, both in our ministries and in our societies, do an awful lot of work trying to determine who is most deserving of our charity. The good news is that forsaking the role of judge for almsgiver frees us from the burden of navigating those cumbersome paths we've designed. Just think of all of the time, all of the energy and all of the paperwork that too many of our agencies expend trying to determine if someone has a valid reason to be hungry. Now think of all of those resources regained through the simple act of handing someone a cup of water, a sandwich and a napkin. Isn't that refreshing? Chrysostom invites us to leave our courtrooms to enter the banquet halls. That sounds good to me.

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Chrysostom, John. St. John Chrysostom on Wealth and Poverty. Trans. Catharine P. Roth. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984.

What Did You Steal Today?

2012-02-28T20:58:00.000-05:00

Chrysostom doesn't pull any punches in his second sermon on Lazarus and the Rich Man. The following section is particularly condemning:

"See the man," He says, "and his works: indeed this also is theft, not to share one's possessions." Perhaps this statement seems surprising to you, but do not be surprised. I shall bring you testimony from the divine Scriptures, saying that not only the theft of others' goods but also the failure to share one's own goods with others is theft and swindle and defraudation. What is this testimony? Accusing the Jews by the prophet, God says, "The earth has brought forth her increase, and you have not brought forth your tithes; but the theft of the poor is in your houses." Since you have not given the accustomed offerings, He says, you have stolen the goods of the poor. He says this to show the rich that they hold the goods of the poor even if they have inherited them from their fathers or no matter how they have gathered their wealth. And elsewhere the Scripture says, "Deprive not the poor of his living." To deprive is to take what belongs to another; for it is called deprivation when we take and keep what belongs to others. By this we are taught that when we do not show mercy, we will be punished just like those who steal. For our money is the Lord's, however we may have gathered it. If we provide for those in need, we shall obtain great plenty. This is why God has allowed you to have more: not for you to waste on prostitutes, drink, fancy food, expensive clothes and all the other kinds of indolence, but for you to distribute to those in need. Just as an official in the imperial treasury, if he neglects to distribute where he is ordered, but spends instead for his own indolence, pays the penalty and is put to death, so also the rich man is a kind of steward of the money which is owed for distribution to the poor. He is directed to distribute it to his fellow servants who are in want. So if he spends more on himself than his need requires, he will pay the harshest penalty hereafter. For his own goods are not his own, but belong to his fellow servants. (49-50)

Christina, stop buying shoes and get that baby some pants.

Will that preach? Anything that one has beyond her needs, beyond what she requires to live, is an excess that she owes to the poor so that their needs are met. When one doesn't fulfill that obligation, one deprives the poor of what is rightfully theirs. God demands that no one suffer any need. God demands that no one go hungry or thirsty or without shelter or medical care, and the moment that anyone does, (and we know that they do), we are presented with nothing but evidence that the rest of us are stealing their very lives from them.

Run and tell that.

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Chrysostom, John. St. John Chrysostom on Wealth and Poverty. Trans. Catharine P. Roth. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984.

Am I the Rich Man's Keeper?

2012-02-27T22:34:00.001-05:00

After his first sermon on Lazarus and the Rich Man, Chrysostom came right back at his congregation with a second. Here he emphasized the bliss that awaited Lazarus and the misery prepared for the Rich Man in the afterlife. Chrysostom was on a roll, preaching judgement and the torments of hell, but then he looked at his frightened, uncomfortable flock and offered the following:

I know that what I say is painful, but I cannot tell you how great a benefit it contains. If that rich man had had someone to give him this kind of advice, instead of flatterers who always suggested what he wanted to hear, and who dragged him into luxurious living, he would not have fallen into that hell, nor undergone the unendurable torments, nor repented too late for consolation; but since they all made conversation for his pleasure, they handed him over to the fire. (44)

The culpability for the Rich Man's lack of charity extends beyond his personal avarice. Those with access to him supported his indulgence in luxury because it served their own interests:

"Yes, a sumptuous feast in your honor does sound delightful!" (Invite me!)
"Yes, you simply must treat yourself by investing in that wine cellar!" (Don't forget my glass!)
"Yes, those silk robes will look absolutely divine on you!" (When you tire of them, let me have them!)

We're all wheeling Trump to hell in that tiny Mercedes.

Chrysostom calls these sycophants out for being the nasty, little demons that they are, but he also makes plain that it isn't enough for us to ensure that our own greed isn't driving the Rich Man straight to hell. We need to be the ones countering the flatterers, speaking the hard words, and extolling the virtues of charity. We must be sure that we aren't enabling the Rich Man's vice by either our activity or our passivity. We are just as blameworthy if we let the Rich Man wheel into the fire by his own devices as if we pushed the cart ourselves.

So where does that leave us in ministry? Well, Chrysostom calls us to some tricky business. He points to the church's obligation to name greed, to oppose self-indulgence, and not simply to watch that she not engage in those activities herself. This isn't just, "Check yourself before you wreck yourself," but also, "Check your friend so he doesn't bust his rear-end." This is Christianity 101 stuff. This is nothing more than our responsibility to foster our neighbor's relationship with God, but this one is going to be rough. This one is about having a conversation with our wealthiest trustee about his decision to purchase a second Cadillac. This one is about confronting couples with their plans for extravagant wedding flowers and $400 a person receptions. This one is about challenging a family's desire for a $15,000 casket for their beloved. This one is about the minister biting the hand that feeds her. Are we really ready for that?

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Chrysostom, John. St. John Chrysostom on Wealth and Poverty. Trans. Catharine P. Roth. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984.

The Torments of the Rich Man

2012-02-25T19:25:00.002-05:00

I've been reading John Chrysostom's first sermon on “Lazarus and the Rich Man.” You can read it here too.

After detailing the Nine Sorrows of Lazarus, Chrysostom clearly has his congregation calling for the rich man's blood. How could someone be so cruel? How could someone be so selfish? How could someone be so hard-hearted? And why should this evil man get to live in luxury while virtuous Lazarus suffers among the dogs? It isn't fair; it isn't right!

Chrysostom calms the crowd. You see, the rich man will not simply receive punishment in the life to come. He is already being tormented in this world. Channeling his inner Dostoevsky, Chrysostom offers us this psychological profile of the parable's villain:

Hieronymus Bosch, "Hell"

Do not simply tell me of the man who enjoys an expensive table, who wears silken robes, who takes with him flocks of slaves as he struts in the marketplace: unfold for me his conscience, and you will see inside a great tumult of sins, continual fear, storm, confusion, his mind approaching the imperial throne of his conscience as if in a courtroom, sitting like a juror, presenting arguments as if in a public trial, suspending his mind and torturing it for his sins, and crying aloud, with no witness but God who alone knows how to watch these inner dramas. The adulterer, for example, even if he is immensely wealthy, even if he has no accuser, does not cease accusing himself within. The pleasure is brief, but the languish is long-lasting, fear and trembling everywhere, suspicion and agony. He fears the narrow alleys. He trembles at the very shadows, at his own servants, at those who are aware of his deeds and at those who know nothing, at the woman herself whom he has wronged, and at the husband whom he has insulted. He goes about bearing with him a bitter accuser, his conscience; self-condemned, he is unable to relax even a little. On his bed, at table, in the marketplace, in the house, by day, by night, in his very dreams he often sees the image of his sin. He lives the life of Cain, groaning and trembling on the earth even when no one knows. (32)

That sounds absolutely terrible, doesn't it? If Chrysostom is right, then we might have gained some insight into one area of "Pastoral Care in the Context of Wealth." Chrysostom will make plain in later sermons that the mere condition of wealth isn't necessarily sinful but the acquisition and use of wealth is often suspect. What story might be hidden behind that wealth? A vicious business deal? The exploitation of workers? The abuse of natural resources? Simple avarice? Chrysostom asserts that wealth hints at such stories and that these unshared deeds torment the wealthy making this life a true hell on earth. Does this then present us with a ministry opportunity? Can we invite the disclosure of these unspoken burdens so that they might be loosened? Should we seek these stories, not to accuse the main character, but to offer her a chance at redemption, a chance to step out of that story and into the new life of the Gospel?

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Chrysostom, John. St. John Chrysostom on Wealth and Poverty. Trans. Catharine P. Roth. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984.

The Nine Sorrows of Lazarus

2012-02-24T22:14:00.000-05:00

I've been reading John Chrysostom's first sermon on “Lazarus and the Rich Man.” You can read it here too.

Did you think that the Lazarus of Luke 16: 19-31 was just poor and sickly? Oh, hold up! Those are just the first two items on John Chrysostom's list of the Nine Sorrows of Lazarus! Let's have him break it down for us:

Le pauvre Lazare à la port du riche
(James Tissot)

Lazarus endured extreme poverty.
Lazarus was so sick that he could not even shoo the dogs away.
Lazarus suffered both of those conditions while receiving no mercy from anyone.
Lazarus was not simply without help, but he was without any relief in spite of being at the gate of the rich man where many people were "present but unwilling to stretch out a hand" (30). Lazarus would have been better off in the desert where he would have at least known that he was wholly alone and without any hope of comfort. Instead poor Lazarus was in almost constant contact with people who had the means to help him but refused.
"In addition to these, the sight of another person in good fortune laid on Lazarus an extra burden of anguish, not because he was envious and wicked, but because we all naturally perceive our own misfortunes more acutely by comparison with others' prosperity" (30). Isn't that the truth?
Lazarus was not only forced to consider his poverty in contrast to the rich man's wealth, but he also had to endure the knowledge that the rich man flourished in spite of his wickedness. It's the sort of thing that makes one wonder if there is any justice in the world.
Lazarus did not have the benefit of another Lazarus. As Chrysostom notes, "Finding companions in our sufferings either in fact or in story brings a great consolation to those in anguish" (31). In our despair, we take comfort in relating our hardships to similar experiences faced by others. Even at one's lowest moment, she can gain some relief in saying, "Well, at least I'm not as bad off as old Lazarus!" But what can Lazarus say? In Chrysostom's mind, no man has ever been as poor, as sick, as destitute as dear Lazarus. He found himself without peer, isolated from even the realm of human experience. Ouch.
This is a pretty good one: "He could not console himself with any thought of resurrection" (31). Lazarus didn't have the benefit of the hope of a world to come in which he would be whole. For Lazarus, there was nothing but his present misery.
And then Chysostom throws a zinger right at us: "His reputation was slandered by foolish people... For most people, when they see someone in hunger, illness, chronic illness, and the extremes of misfortune, do not even allow him a good reputation, but judge his life by his troubles, and think that he is surely in such misery because of wickedness" (31).

This last one stings because Chrysostom makes sure that the story is no longer about Lazarus vs. the Rich Man but about Lazarus vs. us. We don't do that, do we? We don't ever assume that a man is homeless because he is an alcoholic or a drug addict or a criminal, do we? We don't ever suspect that the chronically poor might simply be lazy, do we? And we certainly don't ever blame the sick for having brought disease upon themselves through some vice, do we? Well, do we?

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Chrysostom, John. St. John Chrysostom on Wealth and Poverty. Trans. Catharine P. Roth. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984.

Chrysostom Thinks My Earrings Look Like Satan’s Snot

2012-02-23T22:25:00.002-05:00

Today I read John Chrysostom's first sermon on “Lazarus and the Rich Man.” You can read it here too. I’ll spend a few posts on this sermon since it's lush with material for meditation, but I want to start with one particularly captivating image.

Part of the genius of this sermon is that Chrysostom delivers this masterful portrayal of the evils of excess on the day after the big new year’s festival. Now Chrysostom begins by lavishing great praise on the virtue of those who stayed in the church all night praying rather than participating in the shameful drunken debauchery that the festival brought, but come on! You and I and certainly Chrysostom know that not everyone hearing this sermon was at his wholesome, prayer-filled lock-in eating collard greens and black-eyed peas. No, this little homily right here is for those whose throats are sore not from singing psalms but from yelling, “Woooooooo!” and “Let’s streak the forum!” all night long.

After congratulating the virtuous while keeping his eyes sternly set on the, um, “others,” Chrysostom turns to the task of examining the sin of extravagance. The argument is basic: The luxuries we have are material evidence that we had the means to provide charity but we chose to indulge our own vanity instead. Chrysostom then invites his congregation to view extravagant jewels, posh clothes and fine perfumes not as adornments which enhance one’s beauty but as vile objects marking the sin of self indulgence at the expense of love of neighbor. This is where things get awesome:

For the fragrance of the body and the clothes would be a sign of the stench and filthiness of the inner man. When the devil attacks and breaks down the soul with self-indulgence, and fills it with great frivolity, then he wipes off the stain of his own corruption on the body also with perfumes. Just as those who are continually afflicted with a nasal discharge and catarrh will stain their clothes, their hands and their faces as they continually wipe off the discharge from their noses, so also the soul of this wicked man will wipe off the discharge of evil on his body.¹

Oh, no! It looks like Satan sneezed all over Kanye!

Imagine that tomorrow morning when you take those last few moments to clasp a bracelet to your wrist or to straighten the knot of your favorite tie! Imagine anything on your body that isn’t covering your nakedness or sheltering you from the weather as nothing more than Satan’s snot! My earrings might be just cheap costume jewelry, but when Chrysostom reminds me that they represent money that I could have spent on a meal for someone who went hungry... Oh, Chrysostom! You got me, buddy!

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¹John Chrysostom, St. John Chrysostom on Wealth and Poverty (trans. Catharine P. Roth; Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984) 26.

Into the Wilderness with Antony

2012-02-22T19:04:00.001-05:00

Athanasius doesn’t tell us how both of Antony’s parents died. That’s the sort of trifling detail that I want to hear, but Athanasius can’t be bothered with my petty questions. Those words are a waste of breath when one aches to share the news of the extraordinary, miraculous, (possibly insane?), thing that happened when Antony was only eighteen

You see, just six months after the unexplained death of Antony’s unnamed parents, Antony went to church and encountered Jesus’ words to the rich man, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me” (Matthew 19:21). Antony responded in the wildest way. He didn’t think, “Wow! What a challenging meditation!” or “Gee! What a major bummer for that rich man!” or even, “Ah! I bet the pastor is prepping us for a capital campaign!” Instead Antony submitted to Jesus’ words as though they were a real command, as though they were something that Jesus actually meant, as though they were living words that applied to all who heard them! Antony gave away all of his land, all of his possessions.

Antony spent a lot of time in the desert fending off the p0wnage
of demons, but that hardly seems noteworthy compared to the
miraculous feat of surrendering all of his possessions to the poor.

Well, okay, he didn’t give away all of his possessions. Antony kept a small portion, a quite meager sum, a not unreasonable amount, just enough that he and his sister could live, for crying out loud! But then that fool went to church again and heard some more of the Gospel. This time it was that bit from Matthew 6 about not worrying about tomorrow, yada-yada-yada, and again, Antony acted. He gave his sister into the care of a convent, and he gave every last bit of that rainy day fund to the poor. He had nothing. He had no one. He was wholly dependent upon God. He was, well, he was like Jesus had said he ought to be.

That’s astonishing! In a world where we tend to read Jesus’ instruction on money as parable and Jesus’ parable on minas as savvy financial advice, there is something almost scandalous about Antony’s literal reaction to the Gospel. He doesn’t interpret that passage as a basic discourse on the importance of charity. He doesn’t scrutinize his accounts for the overage he can spare. He doesn’t pledge to set aside a nickel-a-meal to feed the hungry. No, Antony hears Jesus say, “Go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor,” and Antony, this simple-minded saint, goes, sells his possessions and gives the money to the poor! Madness!

I find all of that just a wee bit unnerving, and I’m not alone. Antony’s story swept Augustine into a spiral of repentance that thrust him to the bottom of a baptismal pool. It’s stories like Antony’s that force me to admit that even at my best I’m simply playing at a piety that has as much to do with Jesus’ words as Bio-Dome has to do with 2001: A Space Odyssey. I’m just not doing it right, and with Augustine, I realize that I’ve been praying to lead a Christian life, to abandon myself to God, to act boldly in self-sacrificing love, but, but, but, but not yet, maybe tomorrow, but next year will probably suit me even better. Isn't that right, God?

And so here we are at Lent, and I feel like rubbing my nose in it. Join me as I spend the next forty days reading through some of the most challenging teachings the early church has to offer on wealth, poverty and social justice. Maybe our reflections will lead us to better practices or maybe they’ll just drive us to retail therapy. I make no promises there, but I do covet your insights as I trudge through this wilderness.

Of Elves and Orcs

2011-10-12T12:17:00.003-04:00

The following is another reflection from David Roquemore from his reading of Book II of Confessions. Here he discusses the ways vice imitates virtue.

Book II, Chapter VI, 13 and 14 bring another point to mind. He begins, “for so doth pride imitate exaltedness” and goes on to make several other similar comparisons. Ambition seeks honor and glory. Curiosity prompts a desire for knowledge. Luxury would fain be called plenty and abundance. Prodigality presents a show of liberality. Envy contends that its aim is for excellence. In all of these, a human passion presents itself as a spiritual virtue. Evil pretends to be good. Evil imitates good. I immediately thought of Tolkein. Somewhere in the Lord of the Rings the comment is made that the mishapen, foul orcs are evil’s attempt at imitating elves. The power of evil tries to imitate what is good, but its efforts produce only these ruined beasts.

Evil seeks to be like the Good, but where Good is attractive for its own sake, evil must constantly reinvent itself, ever presenting new and fresh temptations. Thus the need for constant novelty. This is very true of our culture, isn’t it? In a benign way, we see this in popular music - there must always be another, new, song. We immerse ourselves in stories - on television and in movies - that amuse without edifying us. These things are not necessarily evil. But the same dynamic is seen in less wholesome things. The endless stream of pornography comes in part because it is boring, a sad imitation of real beauty or eros. And so there must be a new image every month. Evil seeks to constantly stimulate us with simulacra so that we can avoid what is real.

Augustine begins section 14 saying “Thus the soul commits fornication when she is turned from thee, and seeks apart from thee what she cannot find pure and untainted until she returns to thee. All things thus imitate thee--but pervertedly -- when they separate themselves far from thee and raise themselves up against thee.” Here perhaps we see these threads tied together: all of his seeking God in the wrong place is fornication, whether literal or not. All the attempts of evil to be attractive are simply substitutes for the need we have for God. Even this “perverse imitation,” he says, is an acknowledgement of God’s goodness and power.

What do you think of this depiction of Good and Evil? Is this how you understand Augustine? Does this explanation hold any appeal to you? What's useful? What's problematic?

Watch Your Language, Augustine!

2011-10-10T15:18:00.003-04:00

The following is another reflection from David Roquemore born from his reading of Book II of Confessions.

It just seems like Augustine overdoes it. His language is overblown; from Book II, chapter 2, “ the mists of passion steamed up out of the puddly concupiscence of the flesh, and the hot imagination of puberty, and they so obscured and overcast my heart that I was unable to distinguish pure affection from unholy desire.” (Outler translation at CCEL.org) I find myself wondering if this is simply his training in rhetoric, the style of the time, or something else. (Serene Jones’ Calvin and the Rhetoric of Piety is wonderful in unpacking the beginning of the Institutes. I wonder if anyone has done similar rhetorical criticism of Augustine?) If this is not mere rhetoric, why does he go so far to make his point, and that over and over? He opens the book saying that this recital of his sinfulness will help him love God more. He understands himself to be a sinner, and God to be utterly without sin, and so the contrast is there. But does he make his point too much? Certainly in our day, we might say we are sinners without this emphasis. Does anyone else feel as though he doth protest too much?

What do you think? Is Augustine's language overblown? I'll offer a few initial thoughts to move our conversation.

Regarding the use of rhetoric, Augustine is obviously a master wordsmith who does not shy from employing his training. We will see, however, that he has little praise for rhetoric as an art in itself. After his conversion, Augustine steps down from his post as a teacher of rhetoric. He then uses this opportunity to express disdain for the subject since he understands it to be most useful for persuading people to believe in that which they ought not to believe. This leads me to think that when Augustine employs rhetorical flourish that he only does so to ornament that which he is absolutely convinced to be true. In other words, that which strikes us as "too much" is probably something that Augustine can't stress enough. Let's keep an eye on this.

Personally, I find Augustine's style attractive because it strikes me as being shaped by the language of psalmody and the liturgy. When he writes about his own sin, Augustine's voice seems wrapped in Psalm 51 and the Confiteor. Additionally, the section that you note strikes me as being full of imagery from the creation story. Augustine describes himself as drowning in a muddy whirlpool of sins. He is trapped in this formless chaos while the cloud of God's Word hovers above him on the very brink of shaping him into a new creation. I love that! Watch for ways in which Augustine describes his conversion in terms of the Genesis narrative. We'll see those images highlighted in the final chapters of Confessions.

Finally, I understand my own sinfulness in contrast to God's holiness, so I'm not sure how to address the last claim here that "we might say we are sinners without this emphasis." I'll leave that to our other readers.

Many thanks for sharing your thoughts, David!

Did Augustine Have Any Game?

2011-10-04T22:04:00.001-04:00

One of the questions raised about the notorious pear theft in Book II of Confessions is why Augustine tells us this seemingly petty story and not a tale of a grander misadventure into debauchery. I'll maintain the argument that this particular story best suits Augustine's purposes in illustrating the nature of sin, but I do want to add one other thought that this question brings to mind.

This question points to our common assumption that there is a more condemning story that Augustine could have told us. We've heard that Augustine was a ladies' man. Why doesn't he tell us a story about stealing some young woman's virtue? While it is admittedly difficult to separate the real Augustine from the legends of his lusty youth, let's look at what Augustine himself shares about this period of his life:

But I was quite reckless; I rushed on headlong in such blindness that when I heard youths of my own age bragging about their immoralities I was ashamed to be less depraved than they. The more disgraceful their deeds, the more credit they claimed; and so I too became as lustful for the plaudits as for the lechery itself. What is more to be reviled than vile debauchery? Afraid of being reviled I grew viler, and when I had no indecent acts to admit that could put me on a level with these abandoned youths, I pretended to obscenities I had not committed, lest I might be thought less courageous for being more innocent, and be accounted cheaper for being more chaste. (from Maria Boulding's translation II.3.7)

I'll not argue that Augustine was some sweet, chaste adolescent, but he does seem to be a young man who talks more game than he plays. He even admits in the above passage that he didn't have any stories comparable to the exploits of the rest of his gang and that he therefore invented tales of lechery so he could win their esteem. If he didn't have any exploits hot enough to impress those rapscallions, then why are we assuming that he is hiding something juicy from us? As it turns out, Augustine is the kind of guy who hears the boys in the locker room and interrupts them with an outlandish story he makes up on the spot about some trip to Vegas with twin lingerie models. Meanwhile, he's really just mama's sweet boy, a brooding philosophical type who thinks more about life than he lives it. There is nothing wrong with that, but it is the sort of situation that makes the night you stole some pears your best story ever.

Look, I'm not pleading Augustine's innocence. It is even possible that Augustine might have such an understanding of the power of lust that he refrains from telling these tales so as not to excite and thereby condemn his reader. I'll concede that. What I want to do though is to call us back to reading Augustine in his own words and not through the lens of his reputation. At least in this instance, he acknowledges that he bragged about more chicks than he bagged.

What shall we make of those pears?

2011-10-03T15:38:00.002-04:00

The following is a reflection from David Roquemore on the famous incident in Book II of the stealing of the pears. What do you think?

For several chapters of Book II, Augustine talks about his youthful lusts and how his mother warned him not to indulge his sexual appetites. Reading this, you get the sense that he is leading up to some great event, some life-changing moment. Perhaps he will throw himself into debauchery. Perhaps he will violate some innocent maiden. When the great sin is revealed, he has stolen some pears from a tree. When I read the Confessions in the past, I took this at face value, but this time, I wondered if this were to be taken literally? Is this a metaphor? Is this an allusion to the forbidden fruit of Genesis? For much of the book, it is Augustine’s sexual appetite that is the issue. He is constantly tempted by the “mists of passion.” He famously prays for chastity -- later. And so I wondered if here he has something in mind that he cannot bring himself to tell. It doesn’t seem likely that he is hiding something, but even so, does the pear incident come to his mind more as a metaphor for the other sins he struggled with than as a turning point in itself?

If it is literal, it seems that in his mind it wasn’t the pears that mattered -- after all, really, the owner of an orchard will not miss them. But that he took them and threw them away, without eating them - this is his sin. He says in chapter VI, “I stole those simply that I might steal, for, having stolen them, I threw them away. My sole gratification in them was my own sin, which I was pleased to enjoy; for, if any one of these pears entered my mouth, the only good flavor it had was my sin in eating it.” So then, what is it that really bothers Augustine here? It doesn’t seem to be the pears themselves. He understands that stealing them was wrong, and that wasting them added to the wrong. He didn’t take them because he was desperately hungry. He took them for the sheer pleasure of sinning. The issue hovering around all of this seems to be the pleasure he took, and that we all take, in doing what is wrong. It isn’t the pears, or the revelry, or the women; it is the perverse pleasure in sinning that he enjoys. That is the spiritual issue he seeks to confess and analyze.

Babies: The World's Tiniest Terrorists

2011-09-20T21:39:00.003-04:00

As we've noted, Augustine does not have very kind things to say about infants in Book I of Confessions. Below is a video of our friend Nelson reading and commenting on some of these most choice excerpts.

What do you think? Is Augustine fair? Too cruel? Does he have a point or is he just picking a fight with our defenseless offspring?

Here We Go!

2011-09-19T11:25:00.000-04:00

Friends, the time has come to begin our discussion of Book I of Confessions! Throughout the week I'll be posting bits and pieces to foster our discussion, but I wanted to start by creating a space for you to share your initial insights and questions from this portion of the work. What did you think? What did you like? What did you hate? What surprised you? What challenged you? What might you take with you? What might you reject? Was there anything mentioned that you'd like to explore further?

Your willingness to share your insights and questions here helps to ensure that we'll chat about the things that interest you and not my own pet interests. I might feel like rambling about Neo-Platonism while you are eager to challenge Augustine's assertions about the sinful nature of babies. I want to privilege the discussion that you want to have!

Also, you might find that the reading prompts you to want to offer a longer response. That's great! I am glad to feature your reflection or question as a guest post so that it gets more attention and feedback than it might as simply a comment. Feel free to email me at charlotte@heavenlybanquet.com if you have as little as a paragraph or as much as an essay that you want highlighted. You can also email me there if you want to submit a video response or even an audio podcast to the site. And don't stifle your creativity! If the reading prompts a prayer or a doodle, then please consider sharing that with us as well. All that I ask is that you follow any email up with a tweet to me or a post on the Heavenly Banquet's Facebook Page if you don't get a response from me within a couple of hours. I'd hate for your thoughts to be trapped in my spam folder!

So here we go! What did you think? What topics do you want to highlight? Share your first thoughts below or send a note to charlotte@heavenlybanquet.com with your larger pieces. I'm eager to hear from you!

Confessions: Fun Day I

2011-08-28T12:08:00.000-04:00

This is an excellent synopsis of the Confessions in the form of a catchy, little rap. Previous readers of the Confessions might take more pleasure in some of the wittier allusions, but those who haven't read the work before might enjoy this as a tease or preview of the journey before them.

My favorite line is "They call him Del Monte 'cause he's gotta have the pear."

Confessions: You'll Need a Copy!

2011-08-24T23:48:00.007-04:00

As we prepare to gather on September 12, 2011 to begin reading the Confessions of Augustine, many of you have reported dusting off a copy from your shelf, locating a copy in your church library or happening upon a copy in a used bookstore. Some of you have asked for advice on navigating the many editions and translations of Confessions available. The quick answer is that any version will do, and I'll explain that in more detail below. If, however, you want to purchase a new copy of Confessions. then my recommendation for the best translation currently available is Maria Boulding's work for New City Press, 1997. In my opinion, this version offers the very best marriage of accuracy and beauty in rendering Augustine's work into English. If you want an electronic copy of Confessions, then you might also consider one of the translations listed at Christian Classics Ethereal Library. Many of these can be downloaded as a PDF at no charge.

You might wonder how we'll maintain a discussion if we all use different versions of Confessions. That's a fine question! Let's imagine that we want to cite one of the most well-known passages in Confessions. On page 262 of the Boulding translation, a reader will find the opening of Augustine's prayer, "Late have I loved you, Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you!" Those using the Oxford University Press printing of Henry Chadwick's translation would read, "Late have I loved you, beauty so old and so new: late have I loved you," on page 201. Those using the Penguin edition of R. S. Pine-Coffin's translation will read, "I have learnt to love you late, Beauty at once so ancient and so new! I have learnt to love you late!" on page 231. How might we direct one another to this passage if we aren't on the same page?

The good news is that Confessions is divided into sections which can be easily referenced. The particular passage quoted above is found in Book X, chapter 27. The form (X.27) is often used as a citation for this unit of text. Many editions include paragraph numbers as well. This helps readers navigate more quickly to even smaller portions of the text. If we add the paragraph number to our citation, then we have (X.27.38) as a more detailed way to reference this passage.

As you see, our discussions won't be adversely affected if we use a variety of translations. In fact, if we notice instances in which our translations differ significantly from one another, then we'll find ourselves with a good discussion point and an area of investigation. Please feel free to use whatever is most convenient or whatever suits your needs best! We'll look forward to the insights you share from any translation you choose.

Invite Your Community to Join Us!

2011-08-22T17:30:00.010-04:00

We are excited about the number of people who have already indicated that they are joining The Heavenly Banquet as we read Augustine's Confessions together. We are sure to have a fine time, but we'll have an even better experience if we gain even more participants. Here are a few ways you can help spread the word about this project:

1. Tweet about us! Tweet links to our posts to your followers. Send invitations to your friends. Tweet about The Heavenly Banquet using your denomination, church or conference hashtag. Also, please try to include the hashtag #hbchat on your Heavenly Banquet tweets. You can also monitor that hashtag to connect with others joining the project.

2. Invite your friends to follow us on Facebook! Like us on Facebook and invite your friends to do the same by sharing the page on your wall and through messages. You won't only be promoting The Heavenly Banquet, but you'll also be prepared to receive the latest updates and to enter the most recent discussions. Also, when you see a new blog post on The Heavenly Banquet, we hope you might consider posting a link to it on your wall as well.

3. Consider placing a notice in your newsletter or announcements! The flexibility of The Heavenly Banquet offers a unique Christian education opportunity for those whose schedules prevent them from committing to a regular church school class. Why not invite members of your community to join us? Here is some sample copy below that you might alter for your use:

The Heavenly Banquet is an online community which gathers to read and discuss classics of Christian spirituality. Modeled as a book club, The Heavenly Banquet serves as a resource for readers wishing to explore material from the patristic and medieval periods in the company of others without being bound to regular meetings or a fixed schedule. Guests of The Heavenly Banquet will have the flexibility of participating as much or as little as they like when and if they choose.

The table will be set on September 12, 2011 when we'll open our feast with Augustine's Confessions. Each week blog entries, video responses and articles will be posted to foster conversation, and participants will be invited to contribute their thoughts by commenting on the entries, submitting their own video or audio responses, and engaging the chatter on Twitter. This is a great way to familiarize yourself with classic texts, interact with Christians from diverse backgrounds and experiment with social media. Learn more about The Heavenly Banquet and join the feast by visiting www.heavenlybanquet.com!

This QR code contains the URL
for The Heavenly Banquet.

Think of ways you might use resources from The Heavenly Banquet in your own context. If you find that a group from your congregation intends to participate in the feast, then you might consider hosting opportunities for them to gather to chat about the book. Be inventive! We only hope that you might share your experiments with us!

4. Call, email and chat about The Heavenly Banquet with your friends! This experience is only going to be as good as its participants. Do you know someone who might benefit from this? Someone whose insights you value? Someone whose company you enjoy? Don't be shy! Invite her to join you!

Thanks for spreading the word! Please post any other ideas you have in the comments below and do let us know if you have any questions!

Confessions: Our Schedule

2011-08-19T15:57:00.003-04:00

As noted in our first post, we shall begin reading the Confessions of Augustine together on September 12, 2011. Each Monday I'll post a few prompts to get our discussion going on that week's portion of the work. Then we'll endeavor to continue the conversation with your comments, posts, video/audio responses and chats. As we approach the start of the feast, I'll supply details on how you can submit your own posts and responses. Right now I simply want to offer you an outline of our posting schedule:

September 12, 2011: Kick Off! This will be an opportunity to exchange introductions and expectations. I'd love to hear what you hope to gain from this experience. Share whatever you like and get to know your tablemates if you will. I'll post some material that might be of interest as you begin the feast. Also, go ahead and read Book I of Confessions so you'll be ready to participate the following week!

Lingo Alert: Augustine's Confessions is divided into sections referred to as "books." Each book is only about 20 pages long, so you can think of these as chapters. Once we've completed our introductions, we'll read a book a week.

September 19, 2011: Book I
September 26, 2011: Book II
October 3, 2011: Book III
October 10, 2011: Book IV
October 17, 2011: Book V
October 24, 2011: Book VI
October 31, 2011: Book VII
November 7, 2011: Book VIII
November 14, 2011: Book IX
November 21, 2011: This week we'll take a break from reading so we can reflect on the end of the narrative portion of the work and prepare for Augustine's upcoming meditations on mind, memory, time and matter. Also, this is the week of Thanksgiving, and some of us have pies to bake.
November 28, 2011: Book X
December 5, 2011: Book XI
December 12, 2011: Book XII
December 19, 2011: Book XIII

As a reminder, the dates above only indicate when I'll begin posting on a particular section of the work. You are not obligated to keep this schedule yourself. If you find yourself "behind" a week or even several weeks, that's absolutely fine! The posts on that material will still be available, and we'll be monitoring those discussions to respond to your questions and comments. While I expect that the flurry of activity on a given portion of Confessions will take place during its assigned week, you are encouraged to participate whenever and however you wish.

I hope this helps you begin to see the shape of this project. I'll continue to post details as we move closer to September 12, 2011. Until then, feel free to ask questions below or to find me on Twitter.

Welcome to the Banquet

2011-08-18T16:20:00.005-04:00

After writing and discussing my offering to Two Friars and a Fool, I realized that there was little use in urging anyone to read the church fathers and mothers if opportunities did not exist for them to do so. For some, entering this foreign territory with no companion or guide is intimidating. For others, adding another class or discussion group to an already hectic schedule is an impossibility. It is my hope that The Heavenly Banquet might serve as a resource for readers to explore this material in the company of others without being bound to regular meetings or a fixed schedule. Guests of The Heavenly Banquet will have the flexibility of participating as much or as little as they like when and if they choose.

Here we'll engage our ancestors in the faith by reading and discussing the works they left to us. The table will be set on September 12, 2011 when we'll open our feast with Augustine's Confessions. We'll read no more than a chapter each week, and I'll post blog entries and video responses to stir our conversation. You'll be invited to speak up by commenting on the entries, submitting your own video or audio responses, and engaging the chatter on Twitter. Again, you are encouraged to participate at your own comfort level, and please don't feel that you need to commit to our reading schedule. Have no worries if you find yourself on Book 4 during the week that we begin posting about Book 6. The resources and discussion for Book 4 will still be here. Join us whenever you can!

Have you previously read the Confessions? Read it again with us! Our conversation will be enriched by your voice, and you'll likely gain fresh insight in the company of your new friends here. We welcome people of all experience levels to join us so we can all learn from one another.

I hope that you'll accept this invitation to The Heavenly Banquet. I'll share the full schedule and details of our first adventure in our next post. If you have any questions or ideas, please do not hesitate to comment below or to find me on Twitter. Also, follow the hashtag #hbchat for the most current discussion of this project. I look forward to reading, thinking and chatting with you.