Recently, I heard someone say that they had been told that secrecy is a spiritual discipline. It’s interesting how you hear something like this and wonder what the point was. Secrecy is rarely a good thing, especially in relationships. As a matter of fact, in families and friendships, secrecy is the opposite of a spiritual discipline: it’s a discipline of evil, a discipline of selfishness, a discipline designed for harm rather than for growth.
Rarely do we consider secrecy a good thing. Governments that keep secrets from their people are rarely protecting them. Spouses who keep secrets from each other are not doing anything holy or helpful: something’s afoot, something which, when it comes out, usually isn’t good. Secrecy among families, between siblings or parents, rarely is for a good reason.
Yet Jesus taught his disciples some things about secrecy that are good. And during the season of Lent, keeping some things secret is good for our souls.
The Ash Wednesday liturgy reminds us, in the Gospel, that Jesus taught secrecy in certain areas of life (Matthew 6: 1 – 6): charitable giving, merciful (or “good”) deeds, and prayer. From these, we can pretty much figure out that we are not supposed to boast about our spiritual life in any way. He also warned against going into places of worship or even out in the streets (or on social media!) and letting everyone know how holy we are. He went so far as to teach that our public prayer ought to be something like, “God, have mercy on me (Luke 18: 9 – 14)!”
Jesus also warned about our standing on the street corner (or in Sunday School, fellowship groups, or just hanging around in the church hallways) telling folks how Christ-like we are (remember that true Christ-likeness includes that quality that Paul says Jesus had, “that equality with God was not a thing to be grasped,” Philippians 2:6).
Of course, if our Lent amounts to giving up chocolate, let’s go ahead and talk. No one’s gonna be particularly worried that we will go to hell from pride or driveeveryone else crazy with our bragging (I realize this is ungracious for those addicted to chocolate so much that it really is a bad habit that they are using Lent to help overcome, but come on, folks, some of us give it up just so we can say we gave up something, really just a nod in the direction of Lent rather than a Lenten observance!).
However, if we’re running around being holy all over the place, then sitting on our perch and crowing about it, we may have missed the point.
Secrecy is about pride and humility, according to Jesus. Secrecy keeps our boasting and need for attention in check. It reminds us that what we do, we do to become closer to God, and hopefully from that closeness, to have the strength, courage, and love to love and serve those whom God loves.
No, general secrecy is NOT a spiritual discipline; but the spiritual discipline of keeping quiet about our so-called holiness actually IS something to strive for during Lent, and during the rest of the year.
About jamiebrame
Greetings, fellow earthlings. I'm the retired Program Director at Christmount, the national retreat, camp, and conference center of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), in Black Mountain, NC. From September 2019 through October, 2020, I served Timberlake Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Lynchburg, VA, as interim minister. After taking more than a year off, First Christian Church (DoC), Wilson, NC, offered me the position of Interim Minister, beginning May 10, 2022.
Originally from Eden, NC, I graduated from John Motley Morehead High School, earned a BA in Religion and Philosophy at Atlantic Christian College (now Barton College), and eked out a Master of Divinity from the Divinity School at Duke University. I served, in various positions, churches (part time and full time) in North Carolina and Georgia, and have lived in Black Mountain, NC, since 1989. I married Renae in 1992 (she refers to these years as "looooooooooong" years.
I've spent the past 50 years or so trying to practice Christian contemplative prayer with some touches of Zen meditation to help the journey along. Married to a wife who is much holier than I am, I am fortunate to learn from her daily about how to do this thing called spirituality. Being an ordained minister doesn't make me holy (but occasionally, as you'll read, a little sanctimonious, so forgive me in advance!); but I hope that I put my education to good use.
I'd love to be considered a spiritual teacher, but I know myself too well to claim that. While I do a bit of teaching, I think the best teaching we do is when we remain silent (the old desert abba said something like, "if you won't learn from my silence, you won't learn from my talking"). But silence shouldn't turn into quietism, and we do have to speak out and act for justice and fairness and equality for all.
I frequently ask myself the question, "Does it matter?" about the major - and minor - issues of the day. What I think matters: love for God, equality, fairness, loving our neighbor, feeding hungry people, housing homeless ones, clothing naked ones, and especially caring for children; basically, caring for those who have some trouble caring for themselves. AND our relationship with God.
What doesn't matter: what you think of me. I'm not very Christ-like. You won't hear me talking about all the things I do for others, or all the things I do for God - I was taught that It's not about me, and using good works to get attention for myself isn't what Christian faith is about - look up "narcissism" on Google. I'm not sure Jesus thinks it matters much that I am like him or not, but I do. The old story from the rabbis is probably apropo: when I am hauled up before God at the end of time, God isn't going to ask me why I wasn't more like someone else: I will be asked why I wasn't more like me. The rabbis tell the story better.
I'm still a work in progress, as Renae will attest to.
Finally, I just hope that something you read here will make you think. Use what you can, ignore the rest. Go read some of the desert saints. Read the classics. Take care of people, never point to yourself, and don't follow me: I'm just hoping to be one more signpost to God.
And as one friend reminded me the week before I left Christmount, "It matters."
Oh, and my favorite color is probably blue, and I love cats, and I love my wife's music. I don't like beets.
Does It Matter 