Holy Living: The Christian Tradition for Today by Rowan Williams (review)

Rowan Williams needs no introduction to readers here. In many ways, the former archbishop of Canterbury and now Master of Magdalene College, Cambridge, is very much orthodox. This, I mean, is characteristic of the sweep of his theological and pastoral writing and preaching. A series of collections of his Lent and holy week talks at Canterbury cathedral and other places bear this out: Being Christian: Baptism, Bible, Eucharist, Prayer (2014), Being Disciples: Essentials of the Christian Life (2016), Being Human: Bodies, Minds, Persons (2018). But so do many other books too many to list here, including meditations on icons and reflections on the contributions of Sergius Bulgakov, Teresa of Avila, Etty Hillisum, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

The breadth of Williams's vision of the Christian tradition is remarkable and this is very much in evidence in the volume in question here, Holy Living. A collection again of lectures and articles, the range is an ecumenical wonder and gift. There is a rich reflection on icons, how they encounter us with God and the saints, and how they are invitations as well as means of prayer (105–22). Williams provides three beautiful essays on Teresa of Avila, his personal connection with her and her work, and on her understanding of the scriptures and the eucharist. Prayer is a special focus of this collection with essays on not just icons and prayer but on prayer in the context of urban life (71–80), in contemplation's relationship to our lives of witness and mission in the world (93–104). The genius and special discernment of St. Benedict in his rule are the focus of another essay (53–70), and there is also a good piece on reading, praying, and hearing the scriptures (29–50). A gifted scholar and teacher, Rowan Williams is also very much the parish priest, and this comes across powerfully in reflections on the cost of discipleship, of trying to listen to and follow Christ (7–12), on what the healings by Jesus mean for us now (13–28) and on sexuality and our lives in and with the Lord (81–90). One of the longest pieces is a riveting thinking-through of what knowing oneself means in an age of therapy and so much addiction and stimulation (187–210). And a favorite is the mystic and medieval writer Julian of Norwich and her distinctive, lovely way of describing how Jesus speaks to and deals with us (169–85). Williams thinks of Julian's encounter with Christ as a kind of "antitheology," meaning not a denial or opposition to what is in the tradition, but as happens in it, experiences that seem to break through the usual formulas to a startling expression of the truth of God and ourselves. That the Lord would, in Julian's account of her "shewings," ask her if she were "well apaide," that is, satisfied that he has suffered for her, is in itself, a wonderful expression of love. Even more so, his response to her affirmative answer: "If thou art apaide, I am apaide." If we are satisfied, God is. This inverts our usual way of seeing the relationship, something that comes up in Sergius Bulgakov's reflections on the Incarnation, God's telling his original creatures how much God loves them, in fact wanted to make them, out of love.

How many voices does Williams listen to here, in addition to those already mentioned—Augustine and Benedict, Maximus and Edith Stein, Kierkegaard and Bernard of Clairvaux, John of the Cross and Leonid Ouspensky. Today, more than ever, where tribalism and insularity seem to have crept back in even to churches, Rowan Willams's consistent catholicity of vision is therapeutic, as well as encouraging. This collection would be a wonderful companion while on retreat, or for a book discussion circle for a course in contemporary spirituality. It is a gift.