For more than a decade, my spiritual life has been nurtured
through association with several of our Episcopal religious orders. I am a priest associate of the All Saints
Sisters and of the Community of Saint Mary, and I have visited both communities
regularly to share in the daily prayers, to make retreats, and to receive
spiritual guidance. These are not easy
times for Anglican religious orders, and both communities live, in some ways,
amid the signs of former grandeur, while also holding fast to our faithful God
and pushing on in the simpler vocations He has given them today. They operate fewer schools, hospitals and
mission houses, but remain devoted to enriching the Church’s life through
unceasing praise of God and sharing what they have learned about following
Christ.
The Community of Saint Mary is blessed with an extensive
library, a relic of the days when dozens of women were trained in the novitiate
at a time. On my last visit, after
speaking with the mother superior about some spiritual challenges I was facing,
she asked me if I had read any Father Hughson.
I had not, something she insisted must be remedied. I departed with a copy of With Christ in God (among several other
treasures from the shelves), and now can understand just why she was so enthusiastic.
Shirley C. Hughson, who served as a chaplain and director in
the Community of Saint Mary over several decades in the first half of the
twentieth century, was one of the great figures of Anglo-Catholicism’s brief
golden age in the life of the Episcopal Church.
A native of South Carolina, he began his ministry as rector of Saint
Mark’s, Philadelphia, before discerning a call into the religious life. He became a monk of the Order of the Holy
Cross, the first men’s religious order founded in the Episcopal Church. He held several positions of leadership in
the order, and lived most of his life at the motherhouse in West Park, New
York. But his many books were read
widely, and he visited many religious communities on both sides of the Atlantic
to teach and direct, and corresponded with many lay people who wrote him for
help with problems in the spiritual life.
He is a deeply traditional writer, seeking to explain the rich
heritage of Catholic ascetical theology to modern Episcopalians. He is not an original thinker, but a skilled
summmarist, though His particular interests do shine through. Though the book is a very comprehensive
overview, and includes sections on the virtues, sin and grace, spiritual gifts,
and the sacraments, above all the work is focused on God’s love and grace,
which conform us to Christ and deepen His life within us.
Hughson’s greatest
sources, accordingly, are Augustine and Bernard, though he has obviously read
deeply in the field, and turns often to ascetical writers like Francis de
Sales, to the Spanish mystics and to Anglican sources, especially Pusey and the
text of the Book of Common Prayer. This is also a deeply Scriptural book, and
less philosophical and didactic than similar Roman Catholic books of its
era. In part that arises from Hughson’s
need to justify the tradition’s conclusions to his Episcopalian audience, but
it also reflects a meditative disposition that is one of the work’s most winsome
qualities.
It is rather striking that the work was published in
1947. I don’t think I caught a single reference
to contemporary events, even the great war that had so profoundly shaped that
era. Even more surprisingly, he avoids any discussion of psychology, relying
entirely on traditional assumptions about the nature of the conscience and the
will in his discussion of temptation and spiritual discernment. He was writing as an old man, living mostly
in a cloister, and for some readers, this is probably a detriment. But it’s also rather refreshing as well. Writing about the human person in the first
half of the twentieth century was absolutely dominated by psychology, some of
it since proven mistaken. One can hardly
make it through a chapter of Chesterton without having to do battle with one
therapist or another, many of them—happily—now confined to the dustbin of
history. Hughson is writing for the ages. Surely, those who would think that some of
his conclusions might need modification in light of modern science can’t help
but admire the way he has expressed the spiritual wisdom of the Catholic
tradition in such a comprehensive way.
I’ve been plucking bits of his text and using them for
meditation, and many of these bits have appeared on the blog over the last few
weeks. Hughson is a writer best savored
slowly, and I hope to have the opportunity to turn back to the text again. He is an outstanding exhorter, and a joyful
singer of the goodness of God. I pray
that he may rest in God’s peace and that his work will continue to shape the
thoughts and prayers of many Christians for many generations.
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