Pray and Play, Love and Learn, Study and Serve
Martin Saints is a proud member of the Chesterton Schools Network. Every student at every Chesterton school in the world is a member of one of four Houses. No, not Gryffindor, Slytherin, etc., but rather Ambrose, Augustine, Athanasius, or Chrysostom.
Here at Martin Saints, the Houses compete for points all year long. Students earn points for their House performing corporal works of mercy, by service to the school, hosting social events, and through various games and competitions. At the end of each year, at a climactic feast, only one can be awarded the honor of The White Horse Cup.
Today was the Wagon Derby, which is basically a chariot race for the modern age. Below are a few more scenes from the day:
Each House also leads an annual liturgy and feast to commemorate its patron and namesake. Sometimes the calendar of saints can rest a little awkwardly with the academic calendar, but such impasses evoke creativity. For example, the feast of St. Augustine is in August, which isn't great for a school celebration. But did you know that the anniversary of his baptism and reception into the Church was April 24? And so Augustine House hosted us all for Benediction last week.
Yesterday was the proper feast of St. Athanasius, and so Athanasius kicked into high gear with a feast, decorations for the hall, and a choir to accompany us at Mass.
We think that the House system reveals something important about the culture of Martin Saints. We're a school that prays and plays, that serves and studies. Chesterton once wrote that "angels can fly because they take themselves lightly...It is easy to be heavy: hard to be light. Satan fell by the force of gravity."
Below is a copy of Deacon Roberts' homily from our Mass in honor of St. Athanasius. Again, note in this homily how love and learning go together. This is the Martin Saints way.
In the year 325, at the council of Nicaea, Athanasius was a young deacon, serving as secretary and advisor to the bishop of Alexandria. Three years later, when his bishop died, he was made bishop of Alexandria in Egypt, where he presided for almost 45 years.
Five times during his episcopacy he was either sent or had to flee into exile. Five times. He spent a total of 17 years, or nearly half his time as bishop, in exile in various places. So let’s start by being consoled that serious controversy in the Church is not new, and we too can hold fast.
During some of his exile, Athanasius grew close with St. Anthony’s monks in the Egyptian desert. His spirituality was shaped in part by their radical, intense life of asceticism and prayer. Again, let's learn from Athanasius: the life of the mind and intellectual theology should always be integrated with personal prayer.
Athanasius eventually wrote a biography of St. Anthony, which helped spread monasticism around the Christian world. Incidentally, he also wrote a letter in the year 367 that includes what might be the first list of the New Testament canon as we know it today.
But Athanasius is probably most famous for his role in defending orthodoxy, defeating the Arian heresy, and laying the foundation for the Nicene creed. What’s up with that? Why was Arianism a problem? Why do we care about orthodoxy anyway?
Orthodoxy – believing what the Church teaches, avoiding heresy – is a type of love, a commitment to disciplined thinking and humble speech about God. When we pray, we want to know who we’re talking to, whose presence we’re in. Orthodoxy saves us from projection: we don’t want a God who suits our preferences, who flatters our biases. We want the real God, and so we seek him. The truth sets us free, and, if our hearts and minds are alive (and not anesthetized by our sins or imprisoned by our pride), we hunger and long for truth.
In Athanasius’s time, there was a smart and charismatic priest in Alexandria named Arius. Perhaps under the influence of an austere version of Platonism and definitely with a distorted reading of scripture, Arius argued that only God the Father was the real God, that God the Father created Jesus at some point in time as a messenger, and that Jesus was very close to God but not strictly speaking God himself.
Athanasius was wise enough to see what was at stake. If Jesus is even slightly external to God, does he really know and represent God perfectly? Can we wholly trust him? Might Jesus be a really wise teacher who nevertheless made a few mistakes, whose authority can be questioned? Who was it who died on the cross after all – did the actual God send some lackey to do his dirty work? And who is it we pray to when we pray to Jesus – is the true God really accessible? Is this name we hear at Christmas – Emmanuel, God with us – a slight of hand?
The Council of Nicaea was convened to discern what scripture really meant when it spoke of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, to figure out what true orthodoxy ought to be. Athanasius and the council fathers concluded that Jesus is fully divine, a person in the Trinity, of the same substance as the Father. In other words, the council teaches that when we encounter Jesus, God is genuinely accessible, and the Incarnation is a full and trustworthy meeting of humanity and God, of creation and eternity.
In the centuries ever since, Christians have recited the Nicene creed, a creed written in part to resist and denounce Arianism. When we say that Jesus was born before all ages, that he is God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten not made, consubstantial with the Father, we are professing orthodoxy over against Arian heresy.
In the centuries ever since, up until the present day, Arianism remains a tempting heresy. It’s popular today to say that Jesus was just a wise teacher, a holy man, but we don’t need to take him too seriously. In this version of the heresy, Jesus is right alongside Plato, Buddha, and Mohammed in the pantheon of impressive teachers. It’s tempting to go this way. Modern political correctness won't find this Jesus threatening.
But here’s the thing – if Jesus was merely a super wise man, then he doesn’t really save us. If he was just a teacher or a great example, ultimately, we’re left to ourselves to just try harder. And there’s no mercy in that. Because we’re sinners. Even with the best teacher, we will still reliably fail and stumble. If there’s going to be any true hope, we can’t do it on our own. We need grace. We need a savior.
And so here’s the good news: we have a savior. We have met someone who is God from God, Light from Light. The baby in the manger and the man on the cross really was God. The spirit really can inhabit the flesh, and, when we open ourselves to it, grace really can work in our lives. When we say the creed, we give thanks for the wisdom of the Church, and when we receive the Eucharist, we give thanks that our intimacy with God is real and genuine. Amen!
What fully alive looks like. See above and below - both matter.
