Soap Bubble Wisdom

Everybody around me is sick with colds, flu, etc. I have two issues with this: One, I don't like getting sick and two, I don't like it when people I love get sick. The first issue isn't very interesting, but the second one reveals something about myself that I don't like very much. So, being the morbid person I am - let's check it out.

My son called this morning, who has been down and out with a fever for the past few days. He’s a fairly stoic guy, but he started a new job a few weeks ago and he’s worried that he’s going to make a bad impression by missing a couple days of work. As I talked to him about this, I heard myself say, “You’re going to have to trust God in this. He’s the One who sent you the flu.” Those are true words, which I believe with all my heart, and yet they rang very hollow in my ears.

The “hollowness” or “lack of authority” in my advice was a clue which indicates I really don’t believe them “with all my heart.” Instead of strengthening my son’s faith, they floated out of my mouth like soap bubbles and probably made him think to himself, “Yeah, right.” The main evidence I have that I don’t actually believe that “God sent this…” is because I’ve been very upset over Matt’s minor illness. I have always been that way. It is easier to be sick myself than to watch any of my kids experience illness, even though they are all “grown” and no longer living at home.

I suppose most parents can relate to this, but what is the driving force behind such "natural" worry? I think it may be that illness, especially in our children, pulls back the covers on the delusion that “I’m in control”. At the heart of my worry, is the realization that I’m not in control – and frankly, I resent that. How dare God give me authority as a parent, and yet no “power” to go along with it. That’s an exaggerated and unfair accusation of God, of course, but I have to admit it is somewhat true in my experience of parenthood. Of course I don’t like to see my child suffer – nor should I - but I don’t think that alone accounts for the worry and anger that surges up in me when I can’t “fix” things.

So, me telling my son, “You,re going to have to trust God...” was quite hypocritical. Forgive me Matt. All I can do at this point is admit it, and ask God's forgiveness as I remember the words of the Psalmist:

Have mercy on me O God, according to Thy great mercy, and according to the multitude of Thy compassions, blot out my transgressions…that Thou mayest be justified in Thy words, and prevail when Thou art judged.

Psalm 50/51 (depending on how you’re counting)

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.

Comfortably Numb

Rachael quoted C.S. Lewis in a comment to Symbol and Sacrament which I think bears repeating:

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea.

C.S. Lewis - The Weight of Glory

Two other Englishmen, Roger Waters and David Gilmour, stated it a little less eloquently:

There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're sayin'.
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.

last chorus - Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd

The phrase "dealing with what you've been dealt" was Fr. Alexander Schmemann's(+1983) paraphrase of Christ's injunction to "...take up your cross daily, and follow Me." I've heard this phrase since I was a child, and the terror of it has grown steadily over the years. Why? Because somewhere along the line I started thinking that I had to "prove" myself - that I had to be "strong" and "independent" and "self-sufficient" - that this is what is expected of a "real" human being. To be otherwise is to be a "loser." Predictably, the "crosses" (or the "cards" to use Fr. A's metaphor) that God has given/dealt me have kicked my ass numerous times. To make matters worse, rather than struggle with God, in some areas of my life I've opted for the easier way out - I've labeled myself a "wounded person", and prescribed a few "meds" that render me comfortably numb.

But God (the happiest two-word combo I know) doesn't accept my lack of sobriety so easily. He continues to irritate the hell out of me (literally) by shaking me up, waking me up, and asking me things like, "So, do you want to be healed?". Honestly - I don't know. But even if I don't, I pray to God to somehow help me want to - because the life of an addict, no matter how socially acceptable, sucks.

Come All You Faithful

It was a beautiful day yesterday in Portland -- outside. Inside, in my neighborhood at least, it wasn't so great. A few people from our little Orthodox Community gathered to help one of our parishioners pack up his belongings to move into a nearby residential care facility. He has some serious health problems, and until recently his wife has been able to care for him. But a couple of months ago she was diagnosed with cancer, which is spreading rapidly, and simply doesn't have the strength to care for him any longer. So they have to separate. Obviously, this is an extremely difficult time for them.

As we were packing up pictures of them when they were younger, I kept staring at their wedding photos and feeling something staring back at me. It scared me. I didn't perceive it as fear at the time since I was quite detached from the reality that was closing in on me. But looking back, I realize I was afraid. Of what? Death. Disease, decay, and corruption will eventually catch up with me, overtake me, and strip me of everything human. OK - it is a legitimate fear, but it isn't the whole story. There is life after death.

Every Saturday night at Vigil, after hearing the Matins Gospel which is always on the theme of Christ's Resurrection, we sing:

Having beheld the resurrection of Christ,
Let us worship the holy Lord Jesus
The only sinless One.
We venerate Thy Cross, O Christ
And we praise and glorify Thy holy Resurrection
For Thou art our God
And we know no other than Thee
We call on Thy name
Come all you faithful
Let us venerate Christ's holy Resurrection
For behold, through the Cross joy has come into all the world
Let us ever bless the Lord
Praising His Resurrection
For by enduring the Cross for us
He has destroyed death by death.

At the moment, death has the upper-hand in my friends' lives and they are struggling to patiently endure their crosses. But I have every reason to believe that through them Christ will continue to mock and trample down death by the sufferings, deaths, and resurrection of His servant and handmaiden. "Come all you faithful, let us venerate Christ's holy Resurrection. For behold, through the Cross, joy has come into all the world."

Symbol and Sacrament

As I've been reading For the Life of the World by Fr. Alexander Schmemann, my understanding of "sacrament" has been changing - these are some of my thoughts. But before I get to that, I need to say that this change in my understanding of "sacrament" didn't start with the reading of For the Life of the World, but is something that has been evolving over the years.

My first remembered experience of a "sacrament", was with the "Lord's Supper" as I grew up in a mainline, southern Presbyterian Church. (I was baptized as an infant, so I don't recall that.) In that setting, the “bread” (weird little stamped wafer) and grape juice were understood to be symbolic – at least, that’s what my Dad told me. I don’t remember the Pastor ever addressing the subject, but that may be my fault. I was young and don’t remember 95% of anything he said. Nevertheless, my experience of this “symbolic” wafer and grape juice, was that it appeared to be some sort of “coming of age thing.” I had to wait until I was 12, go through some rite of “confirming my baptism”, and then I was able to partake of the Lord’s Supper.

My next set of experiences was in a number of so-called “Community Churches”, where the Lord’s Supper was definitely regarded as symbolic – period! Any talk of the “real presence” was thought to be pure Catholic superstition. During this period, I don’t even remember when or where I partook – it wasn’t very important since it was just a “symbol.” Turns out that is a very bad conclusion…but I may need to address that in another entry.

Then I became a member of a particular congregation of the Presbyterian Church in America and “stumbled” onto a new understanding of the Eucharist. Now, for most PCA church-goers, I’m fairly certain their experience of the Lord’s Supper is purely symbolic. But it just so happened that the church I attended was pastored by a man who had grown up Lutheran. So, for the first time in my life, I was exposed to a teaching that suggested there was something more going on in the Lord's Supper than “mere” symbol.

Next, I jumped off a cliff of sorts, became Anglican (i.e. traditional Anglican with high mass and not the Episcopalian version) and was exposed to a close to pre-Vatican II Roman Catholic understanding of the Eucharist. They even have a service in which the wafer gets suspended in a little gold thingy, placed on the altar, and the congregation “adores” it with prayers, songs, kneeling, etc. In order to take communion as an Anglican, I had to confess that I believed in the “real presence of Christ” in the Eucharist. I did, and I partook, but my experience of it was hardly different than anything I’d experienced before. I felt like Wendy from Peter Pan trying to believe hard enough so I could fly.

Now, I am Orthodox – or perhaps more accurately - I am becoming Orthodox. That is, I am quite sure that I am still unOrthodox in many areas – not the least of which is my understanding of, and interaction with, the Eucharist. That said, I believe the Orthodox understanding of the “holy mysteries” (our name for the Eucharist, which gives you some indication of a slightly different approach) is not so much “scientific” as it is experiential. That is to say, the holy mysteries are eaten – not discussed. There is no service of “adoration” because the Eucharist is always in the context of a meal. We do believe that the bread and wine are Christ’s body and blood, but not in some sort of magical, transubstitutionary way. To my knowledge, you’re not going to find any precise, scientific explanation of how, when, where, etc. the bread and wine are “transformed” into Christ’s body and blood in Patristic literature. In fact to think of it that way is to completely misunderstand the nature of reality, because in reality - all things are created by God as the means by which we experience Him. So, the bread and wine that are set aside ritualistically for the holy mysteries don’t have to be fundamentally “changed” in order to transmit God’s life to us. The ritual is necessary and does “do” something unique, but we don’t know the nature of that “something” exactly. The bread and wine are “predisposed” to communicating God’s life to us by eating it because all created things transmit God’s life to us if we will but receive it. That is why gratitude to God is so important for everything that we encounter in life. Gratitude is the fruit of our acceptance of the reality that all life comes from God and is communicated to us through all His gifts to us - especially and uniquely - in the Eucharist. God manifests His love supremely by giving us life through the body and blood of His Son. It is a mystery – but not a fantasy. It is as real as it gets.

Garbage Nose

I could never be a scholar. I don't have what it takes to dispassionately sift through reams of material, do primary research, synthesize points of view, defend, critique, etc. Whatever this blog is...it ain't that. For me, blogging has basically taken the place of journaling. I'm still not all that comfortable "journaling" for all the world to see because it does seem a little voyeuristic to me. Part of me wonders, "Why would anyone publish their journal?" I don't know - I'll leave it for the scholars to figure out. In the mean time...

My wife fixed a really nice dinner last night. She went to a lot of trouble chopping a number of vegetables to makes us a lenten burrito dinner since it was Wednesday (fast day). She had been running around all day and was tired...but she did it anyway. And it was good. But the onions created stinky garbage...which would eventually uncover some stinkiness in my heart.

In the middle of the night, my over-sensitive nose (genetic) woke me up complaining about the stinky garbage. Without thinking I said out loud, "Whoa! That garbage stinks!" I was pissed-off because I woke up and hadn't had a good night's sleep the night before, but I should not have said anything out loud - because it woke Macrina up. Naturally, she didn't appreciate it. You can write your own version of the rest because I'm pleading the 5th. Regardless, I left the house this morning at odds with my wife, who if you'll recall, had fixed us a really nice dinner the night before.

I ride the train to work in the mornings which gives me time to listen to tapes. I chose one, and God overruled my choice in a rather amusing way. (I don't want to take the space to explain, but if you ask via comment, I'll fill you in.) The title of the tape was Sin: Primordial, Generational, Personal by Fr. Thomas Hopko. I can't tell you exactly what happened on the train ride this morning except to say a conduit opened up between my wounded heart and heaven. God comforted me, even though because of my actions of the previous night (all my life really) I had no reason to expect it. As a result, my hardened heart softened a little. I wrote my wife when I got to work and apologized for my self-centeredness - I'll let you know how it works out.

This is not a new process for me by now, but it is always a surprising process. Like the prodigal son, I am continually "waking up" in the middle of a pig-pen and thinking, "what the hell did I do that for?" Does it ever get any better than this in a fallen world? Does it need to? I don't know the answer to either question at the moment and I don't much care because for a glorious few hours my heart is simply grateful to be the recipient of such Divine condescension. My Father killed the fatted calf, put a ring on my finger, and covered me with a beautiful robe. Whoa!

The Angel of Great Lent

I think I need to exorcise some sort of demon. I recognized its shadowy face a couple nights ago in a conversation with a wise man and have been reeling ever since. I'm beginning to think I opened the door for the imp back in 1973, so let me explain.

A well-known Christian writer in those days was fond of asking the question, "How many of your sins were in the future when Christ died on the Cross?" The obvious answer, of course, was "all of them." He used this logic to propagate the idea that, "all of our sins - past, present, and future - were forgiven when Christ died on the Cross." There's a certain inescapable logic to this, and I bought it hook, line, and sinker. On the positive side of things, it changed my attitude towards God. That is, it removed some sort of barrier between God and me and for that I am grateful. But on the other hand, it created a false sense of security and obliterated a natural, intuitive sense of holy fear that every fallen human being has. Much, much worse than that, it reduced me to zero and stole nearly every ounce of humanity, corrupt and fallen as it is, from me. That is, it not only obliterated my sense of fear - it obliterated me! By reducing Christ to just some sort of cosmic scapegoat, this "teaching" unwittingly removes something of the image of God from us - the bit that gives us "essence" or "weight". It inadvertently takes away all our "mass" so that we no long cast real shadows and renders us incapable of making real ripples in the pond of history. In short, it de-humanizes us.

The effect is very subtle, and in my case went unrecognized for years and years. The tell-tale sign has been primarily an unrelenting, angry depression - which I think has simply been my "preferred choice" of self-destruction. It's almost like I had an unconscious need to make some sort of ripple...to cast some miserable shadow...just to prove to myself that I still existed. I don't understand all of this yet - it is all fresh in my mind. I'm pretty pissed off about it at the moment - but I know that will pass and I will get down to the serious business of repentance. However, I've gotten so used to considering myself a zero, that the prospect of regaining my humanity by being cured of this erroneous thinking - sorta scares me. The following passage comes to mind:

Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, which is called in Hebrew, Bethesda, having five porches. In these lay a great multitude of sick people, blind, lame, paralyzed, waiting for the moving of the water. For an angel went down at a certain time into the pool and stirred up the water; then whoever stepped in first, after the stirring of the water, was made well of whatever disease he had. Now a certain man was there who had an infirmity thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, "Do you want to be made well?"

- John 5:2-6

The angel still comes every year to stir up the water...Great Lent is just around the corner.

The Cold Shoulder of Jesus

"This is a little uncharacteristic of Jesus," explained the priest this morning as he opened his homily on the gospel reading from Matthew 15:21-28. Jesus had just ignored the request of a woman who was pleading with Him about her daughter's demon possession. Worse yet, when the disciples urged Christ to "get rid of her", instead of rebuking them, he backed them up by saying, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel."

OK - it's no real news flash that I often don't understand Jesus' words or actions recorded in the various Gospels. I've kinda gotten used to that over the course of my Christian journey. But this morning, it was this suffering woman's response that really shocked me. In response to Jesus' cold shoulder her response was to worship Him. When those words from the gospel sunk in this morning, my pettiness rose to the surface like dross. All the times I have bitched, whined, complained, cursed, vented, rolled my eyes, and pouted were suddenly exposed for exactly what they are - pathetic examples of my inexcusable lack of faith. The reason for Jesus "uncharacteristic action" was clear - He was giving this woman an opportunity to demonstrate faith.

I became troubled, realizing the countless times I have squandered such opportunities in my life. I even cried a little - tears of shame and sorrow that after all God has done for me, I still do not trust Him. But I refuse to despair. I am still alive. I have not died in my sins. God has granted me the strength and intention to wash myself in tears rather than drown in them. He will be giving me more opportunities to respond to the hard things in life with faith. Glory be to God for all things!

Stuck

I haven't had much time to write lately due to some changes in my schedule. No, it is more accurate to say that I haven't been very quiet lately because of the disruption of my normal routine, and when I'm not quiet my thoughts are in turmoil and none of them are worth writing down. A curious consequence of the lack of inner stillness is that songs have been getting stuck in my head lately. That is something that hasn't happened in a while. I don't understand the mechanism at all, but it's not the whole song - just one particular phrase gets put on heavy rotation in my inner playlist and drives me nuts...in a relentlessly subtle way. I have no idea how they get "chosen", but they are very difficult to eject. The two that have been plaguing me this last week are, "...if you're lost you can look--and you will find me, time after time" (Cyndi Lauper) and "...would you know we're riding on the Marrakesh Express" (CSN&Y). These bits of songs have become gnats flying around my face on a hot and humid summer day - very irritating. It's a shame too - especially with "Time After Time" because that really is a beautiful song.

I've let myself get out of shape - physically and spiritually. This schedule change that I started out blaming, was just the finishing touch on a downhill slide in personal discipline that started a few months ago. I've gotten careless with my prayer rule and now I can't keep unneeded food out of my hands or unwanted thoughts out of my head. The three are very closely related. OK. The first step is seeing it. (check) The second step is admitting it. (check) The third step is repentance. (uhhh...) Lord have mercy.