Speaking in Italics

Archbishop Theophilus made his way to the cell of Abba Pambo, a man recognized and acclaimed for his humility and wisdom. The brethren who accompanied Theophilus said to Abba Pambo, "Say something to the archbishop, so that he may be edified." Abba Pambo replied: "If he is not edified by my silence, he will not be edified by my speech." --Benedicta Ward, Sayings of the Desert Fathers

When I first read this a few years ago - probably at the breakfast table with Fr. Nicholas after Matins - I thought Abba Pambo was commenting on the archbishop's inability to hear. That is, I thought Abba Pambo was accusing the archbishop of not having spiritual ears to hear. But that interpretation of this little story only reveals the cynicism which was present in my heart. I recently ran across this story again in a book by Bishop Kallistos Ware (The Inner Kingdom) and for some reason it suddenly dawned on me that Abba Pambo was commenting on himself. He was in essence saying, "If my life without words doesn't communicate something useful to the archbishop, then certainly my words won't."

On the album "Truth Decay", T-Bone Burnett sings

She left for a party
With thieves and debutantes
All talked in italics
With so much nonchalance

"All talked in italics" - I think Abba Pambo would have appreciated that line. The silence he was speaking of is precisely the opposite of speaking in italics, and I find myself longing for this. Not in others...in myself.

My Uke Gently Weeps

Take a minute and listen to this guy. If you are a George Harrison fan at all you will be glad you did.

Oblivious

Some months ago I had a dream. I was back at the boarding school where I studied over half a century ago. A friend took me first through rooms already familiar to me in my waking life. But then in my dream we entered other rooms that I had never seen before--spacious, elegant, filled with light. Finally we entered a small, dark chapel, with mosaics gleaming in candlelight. "How strange," I said to my companion, "that I have lived here for years, and yet I never knew about the existence of all these room." And he replied, "But it is always so."
-Bishop Kallistos Ware, The Inner Kingdom, Vol. 1, p 72

I wonder if this phenomenon (not seeing what is really there) has anything to do with Jesus' reply to the Pharisee's question:

Now when He was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, He answered them and said, “The kingdom of God does not come with observation; nor will they say, ‘See here!’ or ‘See there!' For indeed, the kingdom of God is within you.”
Then He said to the disciples, “The days will come when you will desire to see one of the days of the Son of Man, and you will not see it.
-Luke 17:20-22

"Useless" Beauty

In my day job (engineering) I'm never asked to concern myself with "beauty". Perhaps the Industrial Design folks talk about it, but I doubt if beauty outranks ergonomics or ease of use even in their circles. Certainly there is elegance in machine design, software design, etc. - but it isn't the most important thing. Engineers by training, if not by nature, are pragmatic, hands-on, get-it-done types. At least the ones I hang out with are. Most times, brute force suffices...elegance is unnecessary.

But it's not just us engineers. American culture in general seems to be more interested in "usefulness" than in "beauty." What price do we pay as a culture for this imbalance? While boredom, depression, frustration, anger, agitation, rudeness, self-centeredness, and a host of other evils may not all spring from this fundamental error, surely it contributes. That is, when we reduce appreciating a thing to simply using a thing, it leaves us somehow dissatisfied. Our soul feeds on beauty (i.e. the reflection of the Divine) like our bodies need food. When we don't get it, internal and invisible forces within us become malnourished and start to malfunction. We end up substituting all kinds of base things in a desperate attempt to feed our soul or at least distract it. But it doesn't work. At best, we get a temporary reprieve from our perception of the absurdity of it all and even our ability to comprehend beauty becomes compromised.

But thank God, beauty is all around us. And thank God, it is very subversive. It is hard to defend oneself against beauty. Against all odds it penetrates us now and again, and we almost involuntarily find ourselves appreciating rather than using. It is a very small step from there to giving thanks to the Holy Triune God Who creates and sustains all things. Then perhaps, real joy is possible. I say "perhaps" because unfortunately I've spent the majority of my life undervaluing beauty and my soul has the scars to prove it. But I have experienced that joy a little, and deeply believe that it is there. I've just got to learn, by God's grace, to give beauty its proper place. Far from being useless, beauty is essential.

Letting Go

Many years ago, when I first read:

"...that through death He (Christ) might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and release those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage."
-Hebrews 2:14b-15

I thought I wasn't afraid of death. And it may be true that as a young man who hadn't experienced much affliction, and who thought he was "saved"...the thought of departing this life didn't trouble me too much. But of course I was naive. Death comes in many forms long before the "big D" arrives. And as I've suffered through a host of "little d" deaths from my youth until now, I realize that I am indeed afraid of death and correspondingly am subject to bondage.

We weren't created to die, but to live, and so it is natural that death would hold fear for us especially since we will face judgment for the things we've done in the body. But God gives us plenty of opportunities to get used to the idea of dying...of letting go. To name a few: We get sick-(we have to let go of health, activities, identity, etc.). We change jobs-(we have to let go of routine, security, status, etc.). We lose friends-(we have to let go of support, social rituals, being "needed", etc). Our children grow up-(we have to let go of our identity as "soccer Moms/Dads", authority, status, etc.). We get divorced. (we have to let go of our marriage, social circles, perhaps children, etc..) We move far from where we were raised-(we have to let go of familiar surroundings, close family ties, a sense of place, etc.) We get fired (we have to let go of status, money, identity, security, etc.)...on, and on, and on. Of course, when the "big D" death arrives, we will be forced to let all of these go and more. And yes, that is enough to make me shrink back in fear.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons why the rhythm of fasting and feasting given us by the cycle of Divine Services in the Orthodox Church is so valuable. It is training...training for the day when our souls will be required of us. It gets us used to the idea that first comes fasting (learning to let go, detach, die) and is always followed by feasting (resurrection).

As of right now, my soul is attached like velcro to all sorts of things, and it would hurt like hell to have it ripped away by an angelic escort, regardless if they were good or evil angels. I think I would be clinging so fiercely to this life and all the baubles I've collected, that I wouldn't even notice the difference between horns and a halo.

This gives me a new appreciation for repentance. It must be why Jesus and John the Baptist both started out by saying; "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand!" In other words, as Fr. Seraphim Rose was fond of saying; "It is later than you think." I'm feeling quite unprepared, but thank God, I'm not feeling lost and despairing. I know that if I simply follow what the Orthodox Church gives me to do, I will gradually learn the art of letting go and dying gracefully in order to take up my new life. I've witnessed people very close to me going through this very process, and I've even experienced some of it myself. It's just that every now and again I see just how much I hate giving up anything - regardless of how horrible it is. And subsequently I often get "stuck". Repentance is getting "unstuck".

Praying to Dead People

Praying to dead people is not something that comes easy for me - I wasn't brought up that way. The trick, it seems, is to actually believe what I say I believe. That is, I say I believe that dying "in the Lord" is to be alive with Him. Well, do I? Do I believe that saints (holy ones) are alive...somewhere? Do I really believe they are in some sort of "tweener" state until the general resurrection and that God somehow enables them to be involved with us?

Well, let's assume that I do actually manage to believe that. I still have a problem. Why should I pray to saints when I can pray directly to God? I was raised a Protestant American, and if I was taught anything by that, it was to be independent and realize that "if you want something done right...do it yourself!" But as appealing as that is to my ego, it doesn't square with my experience. Over the years I've learned that I really don't have a clue as to how to pray. As near as I can tell, I've prayed "well" very few times in my life. Only during moments of profound helplessness or profound thankfulness...when my prayers consisted mostly of tears instead of words. The second best class of prayers I've ever uttered are when I'm reading them out of a prayer book, or chanting one of the services, or making some of the prayers in Scripture, especially the Psalms, "mine". Other than that, my prayers have been pretty useless. That being the case, it only makes sense to ask someone else - someone who actually knows how to pray - to pray for me.

OK...but you don't just walk up to a stranger and ask them to pray for you unless you've been reduced to a spiritual panhandler. I get the feeling that if the saints are aware of me at all, they probably know me as the guy at the street corner with a sign that says, "Homeless...would appreciate your spare change." Like just about everything else in Orthodox Christianity, praying to the saints has to do with love - relationship. Praying to the saints requires getting to know them and connecting with them emotionally - just like any other relationship. At that point I suppose I could start asking for their assistance (prayers) and not feel too weird about it. But as of right now...I'm basing this on the experience of others and my own experience with the living. I need to get to know some dead folks.