Honoring the ancient mystical Christianity of the Essenes and the Nazarenes

Essenes.orgThe Way of the Inner Light

Practices

Morning and Evening Watch

Twenty minutes before dawn and ten minutes at night: the two hinges on which the day turns.

"Before the sun rises they speak no word of profane things, but offer prayers toward it, as if entreating it to rise."

After the ancient historian

The historian says it plainly. Before the sun rises they speak no word of profane things, but offer certain ancestral prayers toward it, as if entreating it to rise. This single sentence is the seed of the fellowship's whole practice. A people who would not speak of the world until they had turned toward the Light, and who did this every morning of their lives, knew something about how a day should begin. The fellowship has tried to learn it.

We call the practice the Morning Watch, after the divisions of the night kept by sentries in the old scriptures, and because a watch is both a time and an act of attention. Its companion is the Evening Watch. Together they are the two hinges on which the fellowship's day turns.

The Morning Watch

Rise before the sun. In summer this is early; in winter it is merely dark. The fellowship does not insist on the exact minute of sunrise, which varies and which most of us cannot see for buildings. We insist on rising before the day has begun to make its demands, and on being awake and turned toward the Light when it comes.

Wash. Cold water on the face and hands at least; the full washing of the Essenes was a ritual bath in living water, and a shower will do. The point is the body made ready and the sleep put off.

Go to your place. The fellowship recommends a fixed place, facing east if possible, with nothing in it but what the practice needs: a chair or cushion, a candle or small lamp, perhaps a text. The ancient Essenes went out onto the terrace. Most of us go to a corner of a room. The fixed place matters more than its grandeur; the body learns to become still where it has been still before.

Then the watch itself, in four movements, taking about twenty minutes together.

  1. Silence. Light the lamp. Sit. Say nothing, inwardly or outwardly, for as long as you can bear, and then a little longer. Five minutes to begin with. The mind will chatter; let it, and return to the lamp. This is the Still Lamp in its simplest form, and the meditation page says more.
  2. The Word. Read one short text: a Lection, a saying of Thomas, a verse of a psalm, a line of the Rule. Read it twice, the second time aloud. Then hold it in silence for a minute. Do not interpret it. Let it sit.
  3. The Choice. Say in your own words: today I choose the light. Name one way you will choose it, small enough to be certain of doing. This is the fellowship's form of the ancient prayer toward the sunrise: not that the sun may rise, which it will, but that we may rise with it.
  4. The Communion. Make the morning communion with the earthly force appointed for the day, as the Communions page describes. If you can go outside for it, go. If not, open a window.

Then blow out the lamp and begin the day. The Essenes, the historian says, were then dismissed by their overseers to their work. So are you.

The Evening Watch

At the end of the day, before sleep, return to the place. Light the lamp. The Evening Watch is shorter, about ten minutes, and quieter, and it has three movements.

  1. Gratitude. Before anything else, count what was given. Name three things aloud. The Thanksgiving Hymns of the community all begin I thank you, Lord, and the fellowship has found that gratitude spoken aloud before the examination keeps the examination from becoming a trial.
  2. The Examination. Ask not what you did wrong but where you went against the grain. Where did you push against the One Law, and what did it cost? Where did you move with it, and what did it give? Did you choose the light where you said you would this morning? Keep no score. Notice, and let the noticing be enough.
  3. The Communion and the Release. Make the evening communion with the heavenly force appointed for the day. Then say: this day is finished and I return it. Blow out the lamp. Sleep.

On the Days When Nothing Happens

Most days nothing happens. You sit, you read, you choose, you commune, you go to work. There is no light but the lamp's and no voice but your own. The fellowship wants to say clearly that this is the practice working. The ancient Essenes did not rise before the sun for thirty years because every morning was a vision. They rose because the rising was the thing. The one who keeps the hour in dryness, says the Lection, learns whom she is keeping it for.

And then, once in a long while, something does happen, and the student knows that the thousand empty mornings were not empty. They were the terrace on which she was standing when the sun came up.

Practical Notes

  • If you share a bed or a room, the watch can be kept in a kitchen or a bathroom. The Essenes had no private rooms either.
  • If you cannot rise early because of children, work, or illness, keep the Morning Watch at the first moment you are alone, and face east anyway. The Light is patient.
  • If you travel, carry a small candle. The fixed place can be carried in the body if the body has learned it well enough.
  • If you miss a day, keep the next one. If you miss a week, keep the next day. The fellowship has never known anyone who was too far gone to light a lamp.