The Other

Years ago I made a deal with the devil. Evidently, my negotiating skills weren't those of Robert Johnson because not only am I still a lousy guitarist - but I didn't even get what I was bargaining for. Of course, what really happened wasn't all that dramatic. It was more akin to dust settling than trading my soul in at the crossroads. But who wants to read about dust settling?

Somewhere along the way, gradually and without much fanfare, I gave up on reality. I'm not a big fan of chaos, and when reality began revealing itself as somewhat chaotic and unpredictable, I started buying comic books. I became an honorary citizen of Disneyland, which T-Bone Burnett rightly compared with Hugh Hefner's Empire in his song, "Hefner and Disney". Now, whether you're fantasizing about perfectly clean streets and orderliness, or 50 women who "want only you" - it's basically the same thing; a damn lie. But who cares about "truth" at a time like that? Fantasies are controllable, to a point, and that was more important. That's where the deal with the devil kicked off the dust storm.

In order to have a rich fantasy life, I gradually relinquished any solid idea of myself and took on the identity of whatever adjective showed up at my door. Intelligent, athletic, artistic, witty, handsome, cowboy, radical, sexy, religious - I've "worn" all these (and more) personae in my dreams, mixing and matching them to create some truly hideous personalities. Some have fit better than others, but regardless of the fit, the result was that I lost sight of my real self. And I've had a hell of time identifying him among all the aliases I've developed.

What to do? I've asked myself that for years, because I've understood at least the contour of this problem for a long time. But I've never known exactly how to clearly distinguish my real self from my various fantasies of myself. Intuitively, and wrongly, I've tended to isolate myself, or at least keep others at a distance emotionally. I suppose my thinking was that "in isolation," maybe I could see myself more clearly. But it aggravated the problem and I'm only now beginning to understand why.

The so-called "Orthodox Life" - that is, the Scriptures, Divine services, and ascetic labors given us by the Church, demonstrates that my real self prefers reality. Duh! And reality dictates that I must love "the other." First of all, God - Who is the ultimate "Other." Worship - glorifying and giving myself to the "one God in three hypostases (persons)" in the liturgia (work) of the Church, coaxes out my real self. Secondly, my "neighbor." That is, when I really connect (i.e. love) whoever happens to be standing next to me, this too coaxes out my real self. Why the emphasis on "the other?" Because in reality, we humans are made in God's image Who has revealed Himself as a holy Trinity of Persons - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It's been there all along:

Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law? Jesus replied: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: "Love your neighbor as yourself." All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.

Matthew 22:36-40

The commandments of God aren't arbitrary rules, but rather epiphanies. They describe the conditions under which we experience reality and therefore discover our hypostasis. Namely, by giving up ourselves, in love, for the sake of "the other" we find ourselves.

To say all this is difficult is a gross understatement. I'm going to have to turn in my comics, accept and actually love the messy and unpredictable reality of "the other" if I ever hope to establish myself as a real person. Only God has the kind of vitality necessary for such love, which He incarnated in Christ. But Christ continually offers Himself as food, for the life of the world.