Got another Obama email today. I've had a few over the past months.
Some have been conspiratorial, some have had facts, some have been a little of each. In this case the email was an article written, apparently, by a New York journalist which attempted to bring the "real" Sen. Obama to light. Large portions of it were accurate. Sen. Obama is very left leaning for an American politician and despite his rhetoric about change and unity his voting record indicates a person occupying a fringe of the political spectrum. People who appreciate his speaking skills, and like many politicians he is adept at saying much about little, probably have never taken the time to actually examine his record and if they did some of them may be shocked.
One of the great problems in the politics of our country is that too much of what we see and hear is filtered through media and people in this country are still naive enough to believe what the television tells them without learning for themselves. At present the television loves Sen. Obama and to date very few hard questions have been asked. The article, written by an African American journalist (therefore avoiding the Obama campaign's not so subtle argument that any criticism of the candidate is, in fact, closet racism) opens up the record and exposes what, for traditional Christians, may be some significant issues in the realm of life, family, and marriage among other things.
The hard part came at the end when the person who sent the chain email, not the author of the article, added "The book of Revelation teaches that the antichrist will be a man of Muslim heritage in his 40's...". and then went one to describe this antichrist as a person with flowery language who persuades the world to follow him by offering peace and harmony and then suggests that perhaps "you know who" might be that figure. Talk about a stupid addition to a thoughtful article.
Conspiracy thinking is lazy. There is a simple reason that our culture may be on the verge of electing someone to its highest political office whose values on issues of life, family, and marriage are only tangentially connnected to historic Christian faith. We're lazy. Given the freedom to proclaim our message and live our faith we've chosen largely to do neither and because of this our impact on the larger society has drastically decreased. In large swaths of America the church is no longer taken seriously because, quite frankly, the people inside the church don't take it seriously either.
And that's what I wrote back to the those who received the email. Conspiracy thinking is just a way for Christians to avoid responsibility and blame others for the world they let happen. When Christians bend their knees and roll up their sleeves we'll really have the "change we can believe in". It's as simple as that.
5/24/08
5/20/08
Pepsodent...
When the prices rise you look for bargains and so an old friend has made a return. Pepsodent was the toothpaste I remember from my childhood, one of those products like Tide and Ivory soap that were just part of my life. Somewhere along the line we just started using other things and then when saving a dollar or two makes a difference we rediscover them. In this case Pepsodent is basically identical, in its core ingredients, to most toothpastes at about half the price. Oh, and it actually tastes pretty good tooWierd hours...
I've been looking at some of the time stamps on my posts and it occurs to me that I keep some really wierd hours. It reminds me of the 36 hour, as I recall, day adopted by the Men in Black in the movie of the same name. I think the line went something like "Well either you get used to it or you go totally insane..."
The truth is I do sleep, but my mind keeps working and sometimes I get a dose of "holy insomnia" where I've had enough sleep and something seems to want my attention. I use the quiet of the wee small hours to pray and think and write and sometimes play music at a very LOW volume. One of the cats usually comes along to join me, they keep odd hours as well, and we watch the sun rise or listen to whatever sounds travel through the night.
The truth is I dislike sleep, it seems like wasted time. I know I need rest and and I do rest but it seems unfair that a third of my life is spent in semi-conciousness an the rest is spent in 21st century America which, sometimes, is another form of semi-conciousness.
Oh well...
The truth is I do sleep, but my mind keeps working and sometimes I get a dose of "holy insomnia" where I've had enough sleep and something seems to want my attention. I use the quiet of the wee small hours to pray and think and write and sometimes play music at a very LOW volume. One of the cats usually comes along to join me, they keep odd hours as well, and we watch the sun rise or listen to whatever sounds travel through the night.
The truth is I dislike sleep, it seems like wasted time. I know I need rest and and I do rest but it seems unfair that a third of my life is spent in semi-conciousness an the rest is spent in 21st century America which, sometimes, is another form of semi-conciousness.
Oh well...
An interesting conversation...
This past Sunday I had the opportunity to speak with a woman who was attending an Orthodox church's annual dinner. From what I could get from our talk she was a nurse who had once been Presbyterian but had converted to Catholicism. I appreciated her insights but I think at one point I offended her.
She spoke of her experience of coming to the eucharist before she converted to Catholicism, and that while it was a 'technicality" (as explained to her apparently by a Priest) that non Catholics should not receive she did so anyways and found that the experience was part of her coming to Catholic faith. It was clear from the conversation, at least to my ears, that she didn't see the inconsistency of violating the canons of a faith as part of her journey to embrace it. What mattered was her experience. And that's where the offense probably started.
I gently reminded her that non Catholic receiving the eucharist in a Catholic church is not a "technicality" but canon and then I pushed a bit. Seeing that she was of the same general era as myself (I'm a late baby boomer - 1960) I began to speak of how our generation was among the most arrogant ever in the world, we Americans who came of age in the 60's and 70's really do think we invented sex, and religion, and music, and the what matters is what matters to us, we are ruled by our experience, and anything else is, well, anything else.
One thing baby boomers do not want to hear is that they're arrogant and selfish, even though we are to an astonishing degree. And we don't want to hear we're wrong on anything, even though we often are. We don't believe in much outside of ourselves but we do believe in the mythology of our own enlightenment with a dogmatic power that makes historic religious belief look shallow in comparison. We change laws and cultures based on our whims and the sheer force of our demographic. We've laid waste to institutions and then recreated them in our own image, and our image is "we want what we want when we want it". We live in the vacuum of this moment with nothing past and nothing future and we call this wisdom.
So, although I believe all that and hope and pray enough of us recover some sense of sanity and preserve a shred or two of civilization for a future time, I didn't give her the full dose but enough to get her face scrunched up. And then I talked about Orthodoxy and how there was faith that transcended time and even the individual but by then the wall was probably up. When I spoke with her later she kind of mumbled about how this was one point on my "journey" (dang it all if we are always journeying and never arriving at anything except ourselves) and so on. At first I was concerned but then I realized I was running up against the real American religion and sometimes it takes a while to wake a sleeping person.
Some time later it occurred to me how much I still buy into all the "stuff" of my generation. I would hope that I am aware of at least some of my delusion but the truth is that I've got a long way to go. Our culture is in a messy place right now, top to bottom, and this is largely because the generation in charge of most things, mine, has bought into a whole set of lies about life and faith and reality which are bearing bitter fruit even as we seem unwilling to change. It seems that to admit we were wrong and that parts of our wisdom are foolish and even dangerous is too much to ask. We're the monkey with the hand in the gourd grasping on to the fruit and unwilling to let go even when we see the hunter approaching.
Regardless it was a time for me to see how much I live in the matrix of this world, still, collar and all.
Sigh...
She spoke of her experience of coming to the eucharist before she converted to Catholicism, and that while it was a 'technicality" (as explained to her apparently by a Priest) that non Catholics should not receive she did so anyways and found that the experience was part of her coming to Catholic faith. It was clear from the conversation, at least to my ears, that she didn't see the inconsistency of violating the canons of a faith as part of her journey to embrace it. What mattered was her experience. And that's where the offense probably started.
I gently reminded her that non Catholic receiving the eucharist in a Catholic church is not a "technicality" but canon and then I pushed a bit. Seeing that she was of the same general era as myself (I'm a late baby boomer - 1960) I began to speak of how our generation was among the most arrogant ever in the world, we Americans who came of age in the 60's and 70's really do think we invented sex, and religion, and music, and the what matters is what matters to us, we are ruled by our experience, and anything else is, well, anything else.
One thing baby boomers do not want to hear is that they're arrogant and selfish, even though we are to an astonishing degree. And we don't want to hear we're wrong on anything, even though we often are. We don't believe in much outside of ourselves but we do believe in the mythology of our own enlightenment with a dogmatic power that makes historic religious belief look shallow in comparison. We change laws and cultures based on our whims and the sheer force of our demographic. We've laid waste to institutions and then recreated them in our own image, and our image is "we want what we want when we want it". We live in the vacuum of this moment with nothing past and nothing future and we call this wisdom.
So, although I believe all that and hope and pray enough of us recover some sense of sanity and preserve a shred or two of civilization for a future time, I didn't give her the full dose but enough to get her face scrunched up. And then I talked about Orthodoxy and how there was faith that transcended time and even the individual but by then the wall was probably up. When I spoke with her later she kind of mumbled about how this was one point on my "journey" (dang it all if we are always journeying and never arriving at anything except ourselves) and so on. At first I was concerned but then I realized I was running up against the real American religion and sometimes it takes a while to wake a sleeping person.
Some time later it occurred to me how much I still buy into all the "stuff" of my generation. I would hope that I am aware of at least some of my delusion but the truth is that I've got a long way to go. Our culture is in a messy place right now, top to bottom, and this is largely because the generation in charge of most things, mine, has bought into a whole set of lies about life and faith and reality which are bearing bitter fruit even as we seem unwilling to change. It seems that to admit we were wrong and that parts of our wisdom are foolish and even dangerous is too much to ask. We're the monkey with the hand in the gourd grasping on to the fruit and unwilling to let go even when we see the hunter approaching.
Regardless it was a time for me to see how much I live in the matrix of this world, still, collar and all.
Sigh...
5/16/08
Old friends...
From time to time I'll browse the web looking for old friends. As time goes by the memory of them grows more special and it's interesting to see how life is treating them.
Tonight I browsed through the reunion site for Wausau West High School, class of 1979. Had we not moved to Minnesota in 1975 this would have been my class and as I looked through the names many of them were still familiar. One of my classmates is a minister in the suburbs of Minneapolis, another works in public affairs at an electric company in Wausau, many are still around town and some who I would like to have found were simply lost. It's all part of life I guess.
I find myself praying sometimes for people who've probably forgotten I even exist. Some are friends who drifted away over the years, some are people who I've hurt by my own selfishness, some are just passing acquaintances. Either way I truly do desire that God's blessing would follow them wherever they are.
This is especially true about Mahtomedi High School. The truth is that those years were hard years and I felt liked I never belonged there but its something that can't be undone. Over the years, though, I've tried to pray for everyone in the class of 79 in the hope that somehow it would, behind the scenes, make a difference for them and for me as well. For them I hope its an unseen blessing helping them along the way. For me its an ongoing opportunity to give and receive forgiveness in the act of prayer.
On these nights when I see the names and remember the faces and the times past as I google folks in the hope that someone familiar may appear my heart feels tender and a little bit melancholy. A part of me wants to get on the phone and say "Hi, do you remember me?" in the hope that somehow the old connections can be reanimated. It's probably not to be but the thought of it is comforting.
However time has taken us apart I do hope to see them in heaven.
Tonight I browsed through the reunion site for Wausau West High School, class of 1979. Had we not moved to Minnesota in 1975 this would have been my class and as I looked through the names many of them were still familiar. One of my classmates is a minister in the suburbs of Minneapolis, another works in public affairs at an electric company in Wausau, many are still around town and some who I would like to have found were simply lost. It's all part of life I guess.
I find myself praying sometimes for people who've probably forgotten I even exist. Some are friends who drifted away over the years, some are people who I've hurt by my own selfishness, some are just passing acquaintances. Either way I truly do desire that God's blessing would follow them wherever they are.
This is especially true about Mahtomedi High School. The truth is that those years were hard years and I felt liked I never belonged there but its something that can't be undone. Over the years, though, I've tried to pray for everyone in the class of 79 in the hope that somehow it would, behind the scenes, make a difference for them and for me as well. For them I hope its an unseen blessing helping them along the way. For me its an ongoing opportunity to give and receive forgiveness in the act of prayer.
On these nights when I see the names and remember the faces and the times past as I google folks in the hope that someone familiar may appear my heart feels tender and a little bit melancholy. A part of me wants to get on the phone and say "Hi, do you remember me?" in the hope that somehow the old connections can be reanimated. It's probably not to be but the thought of it is comforting.
However time has taken us apart I do hope to see them in heaven.
5/15/08
Californication...
Today as I heard the news that the California Supreme Court had decided in its wisdom to declare same sex marriage a civil right I felt a wave of sadness.
On a constitutional level this decision was horrendous. The people of California had already voted in a referendum to affirm the traditional definition of marriage and the Court, like in Massachusetts, simply decided it knew best and did whatever it pleased. Why have people vote and a Legislative branch if Courts feel they can simply decide any issue? We have created a government here in the United States where basically five people, any majority of the federal Supreme Court, rule. Each time a court acts with the cavalier disregard for history and the rights of people to enact law through referendum and legislation democracy and representative government dies. And every time the people and legislatures meekly submit to these kinds of abuses the stage is set for either revolution or tyranny.
On a personal level I feel sorry for the people in California. At some point in the future the folly of these actions will bear bitter fruit. No the sky hasn't fallen in now and may not for some time, after all the mill of God grinds slow but exceedingly fine, but there will be a time when the pain, disease, and suffering caused by people who believe their right to sexual expression transcends common sense and even science will come to a head and it won't be pretty. Already we have spiraling rates of STDs, broken homes, psychological wounding, and the extraordinary social costs that come with them all. Yet instead of seeing these as calls to reexamine our vision of sexual and moral life we plunge in further, "waist deep in the big muddy and the big fool says march on..." Some future generation will have to clean up this mess and until sense returns a lot of people are going to be hurt and some will die. What a shame!
I have to admit there is a part of me that would like to grab, as it were, a musket and take back my country from the selfish and short sighted fools who often are in charge of things. That's not, however, our way, but one thing is certain. We Christians have got to look at events like this and realize its time to end our passivity and live our lives as Christians knowing that the only way this will change is to change our culture from the ground up, one person coming to Christ (and sanity) at a time. The people who have made these horrible decisions will have to stand before Christ for what they have done, but so will we if don't hear the call in all of this and realize that we need to combat this darkness the only way with can, with the Light of Christ.
On a constitutional level this decision was horrendous. The people of California had already voted in a referendum to affirm the traditional definition of marriage and the Court, like in Massachusetts, simply decided it knew best and did whatever it pleased. Why have people vote and a Legislative branch if Courts feel they can simply decide any issue? We have created a government here in the United States where basically five people, any majority of the federal Supreme Court, rule. Each time a court acts with the cavalier disregard for history and the rights of people to enact law through referendum and legislation democracy and representative government dies. And every time the people and legislatures meekly submit to these kinds of abuses the stage is set for either revolution or tyranny.
On a personal level I feel sorry for the people in California. At some point in the future the folly of these actions will bear bitter fruit. No the sky hasn't fallen in now and may not for some time, after all the mill of God grinds slow but exceedingly fine, but there will be a time when the pain, disease, and suffering caused by people who believe their right to sexual expression transcends common sense and even science will come to a head and it won't be pretty. Already we have spiraling rates of STDs, broken homes, psychological wounding, and the extraordinary social costs that come with them all. Yet instead of seeing these as calls to reexamine our vision of sexual and moral life we plunge in further, "waist deep in the big muddy and the big fool says march on..." Some future generation will have to clean up this mess and until sense returns a lot of people are going to be hurt and some will die. What a shame!
I have to admit there is a part of me that would like to grab, as it were, a musket and take back my country from the selfish and short sighted fools who often are in charge of things. That's not, however, our way, but one thing is certain. We Christians have got to look at events like this and realize its time to end our passivity and live our lives as Christians knowing that the only way this will change is to change our culture from the ground up, one person coming to Christ (and sanity) at a time. The people who have made these horrible decisions will have to stand before Christ for what they have done, but so will we if don't hear the call in all of this and realize that we need to combat this darkness the only way with can, with the Light of Christ.
A site worth considering...
From time to time I post the www addresses of sites worth considering. One such site is Lifesite News. Here you can get information on life issues, moral issues, and coverage of government actions in a way that you'd probably never find in the mainstream press either in Canada or the US.
Like any other site I recommend you need to visit and make up your own mind as to what you'll keep and what you'll toss but this site is certainly worth a look.
Like any other site I recommend you need to visit and make up your own mind as to what you'll keep and what you'll toss but this site is certainly worth a look.
5/12/08
Re: Circumstances follow up...
Now we know why our vacation plans fell through. Had a visit from a plumber and electrician. The plumber was cheap but the electrician was around $2000. Oh well, to everything there is a season...
5/9/08
Your Brain on Video...
An interesting article on how technology actually changes brain chemistry and the way you think.
A website worth visiting...
The www site of Fr. Zakaria Botros a Coptic Priest with a profoundly influential ministry reaching out to Muslims with the truth and love of Christ. It speaks to a profound truth; we cannot change the Islamic world by offering them capitalism, secularism, and consumerism, indeed these in the extremes often practiced in the West are destructive of authentic life, but rather by offering something spiritual, true, and transcendent which can only be found in Christ.
This amazing man has been led to gently and truthfully confront the Islamic world with the reality of its own faith (he was the one, for example, who challenged Islamic scholars in Egypt to justify a hadith that suggested grown men should breastfeed with women so they would be considered "sons" and therefore unavailable as sexual partners ostensibly to get around that religion's strict rules regarding the mixing of genders) yet lovingly and without rancor provides an invitation to consider the claims of Christ. Thousands have responded.
In this we may have a model for reaching our own culture, stuck in the rigid orthodoxy of secular materialism and suffering from the results of that worldview's essential illogic. With love and truth we can confront that worldview (also embedded in ourseles) and call people not simply to a religious version of it, but to something better and higher, authentic life in Christ.
This amazing man has been led to gently and truthfully confront the Islamic world with the reality of its own faith (he was the one, for example, who challenged Islamic scholars in Egypt to justify a hadith that suggested grown men should breastfeed with women so they would be considered "sons" and therefore unavailable as sexual partners ostensibly to get around that religion's strict rules regarding the mixing of genders) yet lovingly and without rancor provides an invitation to consider the claims of Christ. Thousands have responded.
In this we may have a model for reaching our own culture, stuck in the rigid orthodoxy of secular materialism and suffering from the results of that worldview's essential illogic. With love and truth we can confront that worldview (also embedded in ourseles) and call people not simply to a religious version of it, but to something better and higher, authentic life in Christ.
5/5/08
Circumstances...
My wife and I are scehduled for vacation time this weekend and we had grand plans. We were hoping to travel to Milwaukee and Chicago to catch a few baseball games. Actually we had hoped to go to Denver for the same reason but the costs was too high, flying, hotel, meals, game, etc..
So we got on the computer and began to attempt reservations. No go for Milwaukee, no go for Chicago. Tickets unavailable for games. We even tried Kansas City because we've never been to Kaufmann Stadium (we like to experience new baseball stadiums as we travel). Nothing doing there. So what to do?
From time to time we've had these experiences where plans seem to fail and all doors are closed. In this case rather then force the issue we came to the conclusion that for some reason we need to stay here this week. Now we don't know why, and we certainly hope it isn't something bad, but it looks like circumstances or fate or perhaps the hand of God have directed us to remain where we are this weekend. So we'll do a little traveling, catch a Minnesota Twins baseball game and watch events unfold.
Stay tuned...
So we got on the computer and began to attempt reservations. No go for Milwaukee, no go for Chicago. Tickets unavailable for games. We even tried Kansas City because we've never been to Kaufmann Stadium (we like to experience new baseball stadiums as we travel). Nothing doing there. So what to do?
From time to time we've had these experiences where plans seem to fail and all doors are closed. In this case rather then force the issue we came to the conclusion that for some reason we need to stay here this week. Now we don't know why, and we certainly hope it isn't something bad, but it looks like circumstances or fate or perhaps the hand of God have directed us to remain where we are this weekend. So we'll do a little traveling, catch a Minnesota Twins baseball game and watch events unfold.
Stay tuned...
A Day Off...
It's the first Monday off and we'll have to see what happens.
For the past several years I would come home on Sunday and simply go to work on Monday through Friday and return to church on Saturday to start the whole thing over again. But a few weeks ago I applied for a reduction in hours and got it sooner then I expected. Be careful what you wish for!
So now I have a whole day with, well, nothing. I don't doubt that I can fill the time its just that, like a lot of Priests, I'm a workaholic, addicted to the motion if not the substance, of work. Feeling busy makes me feel alive and after a few days of vacation I start itching to get back at it.
One thing that for sure will happen is a lot of home chores will get done. With both my wife and I working and traveling, the home front gets short shrift as we both come home tired. So I've got some raking to do and some picking up around the place and maybe a supper to make and given my nature I'll probably fill the day with different tasks.
I could try resting but that's just no fun!
For the past several years I would come home on Sunday and simply go to work on Monday through Friday and return to church on Saturday to start the whole thing over again. But a few weeks ago I applied for a reduction in hours and got it sooner then I expected. Be careful what you wish for!
So now I have a whole day with, well, nothing. I don't doubt that I can fill the time its just that, like a lot of Priests, I'm a workaholic, addicted to the motion if not the substance, of work. Feeling busy makes me feel alive and after a few days of vacation I start itching to get back at it.
One thing that for sure will happen is a lot of home chores will get done. With both my wife and I working and traveling, the home front gets short shrift as we both come home tired. So I've got some raking to do and some picking up around the place and maybe a supper to make and given my nature I'll probably fill the day with different tasks.
I could try resting but that's just no fun!
5/1/08
Cell phone picures...
I have a new cell phone, a Palm Centro, attached like the last one surgically to my hip. But the old one is still around and I'm not ready to let it go quite yet.
It's not the phone, that's just the cheap LG they give you when you sign up for two years. But the phone has a camera and of the pictures taken is one of my brother, Paul, now with God for what seems like forever. The smile is typical, just a slight grin but it was taken in better times, one of those impulses of mine when we were all together. And I can't let it go.
Of course there are better pictures of Paul that exist but there was something about knowing it was there with me and the possibility of losing it when the signal goes dead that makes all the difference. In our adult life we traveled in two different worlds and this was the memory that was mine, the slight smile at a birthday or some kind of event when we all left our little universes and were a family again, a grainy picture on a cell phone.
I followed the instructions carefully, and sent the message to my new phone. And I will wait until morning to go on line and see if it is where I sent it. And when its firmly mine, and only then, will I take the phone off line. For some odd reason as long as that picture is with me, and no other picture will do, Paul somehow stays real and alive. The whole thing probably sounds stupid and corny but as the years pass and everything changes and we all end up wherever fate takes us I don't want to forget his face, not now, not ever.
It's not the phone, that's just the cheap LG they give you when you sign up for two years. But the phone has a camera and of the pictures taken is one of my brother, Paul, now with God for what seems like forever. The smile is typical, just a slight grin but it was taken in better times, one of those impulses of mine when we were all together. And I can't let it go.
Of course there are better pictures of Paul that exist but there was something about knowing it was there with me and the possibility of losing it when the signal goes dead that makes all the difference. In our adult life we traveled in two different worlds and this was the memory that was mine, the slight smile at a birthday or some kind of event when we all left our little universes and were a family again, a grainy picture on a cell phone.
I followed the instructions carefully, and sent the message to my new phone. And I will wait until morning to go on line and see if it is where I sent it. And when its firmly mine, and only then, will I take the phone off line. For some odd reason as long as that picture is with me, and no other picture will do, Paul somehow stays real and alive. The whole thing probably sounds stupid and corny but as the years pass and everything changes and we all end up wherever fate takes us I don't want to forget his face, not now, not ever.
4/26/08
Lamentations...
The rain stopped for some hours last night but the wind was cold and raw diving through the river valley and swirling around the church. As the sounds of traffic and wind flowed around us the inside of our little parish was candle lit and warm. A good number for St. Elias were gathered around the bier and we began to sing the ancient songs of lament.
I cherish Holy Week, always have, even before I was Orthodox and just a guest sitting in the middle of things trying to make sense of it all. There is no feeling like being in the presence of holy things in these holy days and I understand why some Orthodox simply take the whole week off to immerse themselves in it. And to me there is no service to compare to the Lamentations.
It's technically an Orthos or morning prayer of Saturday and we celebrate it on Friday as the sun sets and liturgical dawn arrives. The melodies are haunting and the words profound as we stand about our little representation of Jesus' tomb covered in flowers. The cross is empty, the grave, for now is full, and we are carried back to that time of waiting.
One can imagine the pain, the struggle, the unanswered questions that must have filled these hours for those who loved Jesus. The sheer impact of things erasing everything he said about resurrection and hope and replacing it with loss and fear. Doors are locked as they wonder who is next. Women weep together as they gather items for Jesus embalming. If they could not change these events at least there was that one final act. The Virgin Mary, a sword piercing her heart as prophesied, in the care of John but torn by the loss of her only child.
We have the advantage of knowing the rest of the story. Even as we sing we know what is to come and so there is a certain melancholy joy in our voices. But they had no such hindsight, only the swirl of events over which they had no control. How lonely it must have been and how difficult to reach beyond themselves or even remember what Jesus had said. And with what wonder and sadness the angels must have watched these dear to Christ, his followers, as they huddled in the dark.
Yet even at the very moment of their darkness Christ himself was harrowing hell, revealing his glory to those who had died and taking with him all who would respond. Even as the faithful women prepared spices the body of Christ was resting intact because it was not possible, as the liturgy says, for the author of life to be held in corruption. And how different it would have been if they had known that undescribable joy was just two days away?
Beyond the beauty of the hymns that we sang there was a lesson for me. To often in my dark times I see only the darkness and my life becomes focused on just what I see. My vision is limited and because of it my struggle is magnified. If I could have been transported back to those times from the present I would have said to those people hiding behind closed doors, "Remember what Jesus said, he will rise in just a few days, so don't be afraid." Yet in the service of Lamentations the saints of those days have come to me, hiding behind my own locked doors, with that very message of hope.
So now on to Pascha.
I cherish Holy Week, always have, even before I was Orthodox and just a guest sitting in the middle of things trying to make sense of it all. There is no feeling like being in the presence of holy things in these holy days and I understand why some Orthodox simply take the whole week off to immerse themselves in it. And to me there is no service to compare to the Lamentations.
It's technically an Orthos or morning prayer of Saturday and we celebrate it on Friday as the sun sets and liturgical dawn arrives. The melodies are haunting and the words profound as we stand about our little representation of Jesus' tomb covered in flowers. The cross is empty, the grave, for now is full, and we are carried back to that time of waiting.
One can imagine the pain, the struggle, the unanswered questions that must have filled these hours for those who loved Jesus. The sheer impact of things erasing everything he said about resurrection and hope and replacing it with loss and fear. Doors are locked as they wonder who is next. Women weep together as they gather items for Jesus embalming. If they could not change these events at least there was that one final act. The Virgin Mary, a sword piercing her heart as prophesied, in the care of John but torn by the loss of her only child.
We have the advantage of knowing the rest of the story. Even as we sing we know what is to come and so there is a certain melancholy joy in our voices. But they had no such hindsight, only the swirl of events over which they had no control. How lonely it must have been and how difficult to reach beyond themselves or even remember what Jesus had said. And with what wonder and sadness the angels must have watched these dear to Christ, his followers, as they huddled in the dark.
Yet even at the very moment of their darkness Christ himself was harrowing hell, revealing his glory to those who had died and taking with him all who would respond. Even as the faithful women prepared spices the body of Christ was resting intact because it was not possible, as the liturgy says, for the author of life to be held in corruption. And how different it would have been if they had known that undescribable joy was just two days away?
Beyond the beauty of the hymns that we sang there was a lesson for me. To often in my dark times I see only the darkness and my life becomes focused on just what I see. My vision is limited and because of it my struggle is magnified. If I could have been transported back to those times from the present I would have said to those people hiding behind closed doors, "Remember what Jesus said, he will rise in just a few days, so don't be afraid." Yet in the service of Lamentations the saints of those days have come to me, hiding behind my own locked doors, with that very message of hope.
So now on to Pascha.
4/25/08
Good Friday...
It's been raining off and on, mostly on, for the last two days. The services go on but the attendance has been small. Four last night for the Passion Gospels, one left early, and then a handful today for Vespers. A part of me understands because travel can be tricky around here when the rain falls, and fall it has with flood watches up and down the river. A part of me is sad, though, that these wonderful services are being missed. I think and pray and wonder what can be done to help people see the significance of this week and why taking time out for holy things is important.
I have this feeling that if I'd been giving out Packer's tickets I would've had people crawl through ankle deep mud and stand in the rain to get them. Compared to that two hours of Passion Gospels doesn't seem that exciting. Now I have no intention of jazzing things up a bit, doing one of those rock concert church services, a mile wide and an inch deep with the nurtional value of sugar water, because those things don't work in the long run. But this Holy Week has helped me understand one thing.
Before we Orthodox can expect people to want what we've undeservedly been given we have to want it ourselves. I can remember when the only people outside the chanters at Matins were visitors sitting in a basically empty church. What must be going through their mind as they are searching for a sustenance of soul that even those who "belong" don't seem to want? If all of this is not important to us why should it be important to them? The sad truth is that many converts come to Orthodoxy not because of but in spite of the lethargy of the Orthodox.
This all, of course, sounds pretty bleak. But I've not given up hope. So many Orthodox were horribly catechized and so many have learned the motions of their faith without any of its spirit and joy. They've been accustomed to going through the rituals but the spark of life inside is dim. In a small parish that's spent years in struggle it's even tougher because one could at least justify on asthetic grounds the value of coming to a full church with a full choir and all the smells and bells. But when the rain falls something else must provide the impetus to slog through the wet to gather with a handful of people. And I believe that something is coming.
I see it in the tiny groups of people who do come. They really do want to be there and to sing and serve and worship. There is, within them, that intangible flame in various degrees that gives them grace and energy and hope. And its what I pray for when I think of St. Elias. Everything a church need to grow can be taught, there are libraries of books on evangelism and outreach and finances and strategy. One thing, though, needs to be caught, that undefined and real presence of God that touches hearts and transforms people from within.
Every Sunday before I leave I ask God for revival in the hearts of the people of St. Elias. That is a gift of the Holy Spirit, a gift given like, as Jesus describes it, the wind which blows from one place to another. All we can be is open to it and ready for its arrival.
Soon, Lord, soon...
I have this feeling that if I'd been giving out Packer's tickets I would've had people crawl through ankle deep mud and stand in the rain to get them. Compared to that two hours of Passion Gospels doesn't seem that exciting. Now I have no intention of jazzing things up a bit, doing one of those rock concert church services, a mile wide and an inch deep with the nurtional value of sugar water, because those things don't work in the long run. But this Holy Week has helped me understand one thing.
Before we Orthodox can expect people to want what we've undeservedly been given we have to want it ourselves. I can remember when the only people outside the chanters at Matins were visitors sitting in a basically empty church. What must be going through their mind as they are searching for a sustenance of soul that even those who "belong" don't seem to want? If all of this is not important to us why should it be important to them? The sad truth is that many converts come to Orthodoxy not because of but in spite of the lethargy of the Orthodox.
This all, of course, sounds pretty bleak. But I've not given up hope. So many Orthodox were horribly catechized and so many have learned the motions of their faith without any of its spirit and joy. They've been accustomed to going through the rituals but the spark of life inside is dim. In a small parish that's spent years in struggle it's even tougher because one could at least justify on asthetic grounds the value of coming to a full church with a full choir and all the smells and bells. But when the rain falls something else must provide the impetus to slog through the wet to gather with a handful of people. And I believe that something is coming.
I see it in the tiny groups of people who do come. They really do want to be there and to sing and serve and worship. There is, within them, that intangible flame in various degrees that gives them grace and energy and hope. And its what I pray for when I think of St. Elias. Everything a church need to grow can be taught, there are libraries of books on evangelism and outreach and finances and strategy. One thing, though, needs to be caught, that undefined and real presence of God that touches hearts and transforms people from within.
Every Sunday before I leave I ask God for revival in the hearts of the people of St. Elias. That is a gift of the Holy Spirit, a gift given like, as Jesus describes it, the wind which blows from one place to another. All we can be is open to it and ready for its arrival.
Soon, Lord, soon...
4/22/08
Holy Week...
Tomorrow I drive south and Holy Week begins in earnest. Busy times ahead.
Of course I've made the usual mental checklists. Book? Candles? Vestments? Anyone I need to call? But the truth is this week takes on a life of its own and carries you, like the Liturgy, by the sheer power of momentum. Whether every "i" is dotted and "t" crossed, whether we sing well or just get by, or whether every rubric is met with perfection matters, but not all that much in the larger scheme of things. We're together to pray through this Holy Week and celebrate the joy of Pascha when most of the rest of the world is still asleep.
It's been a fidgety Lent, one where I never seemed to quite get in the flow. Like New Year's I always seem to start out with a list of resolutions that somewhere along the line don't get met, at least not in their entirety. There are always things in Lent that are left undone and part of me would like to, just once, have a "perfect" Lent, whatever that is. Maybe, though, that's the point, there is no perfect Lent, just me trying to wade through a lot of stuff to get some place closer to Christ.
The good thing, of course, is that Lent is a concentrated form of what we should always be doing, living a life of repentance. If I didn't do everything I thought I need to in Lent I still have a new chance every day to get back on track. We Orthodox seem to be people who have the sheet music in front of us, know the tune in our head, but continually struggle to get our voice to match the notes. When we do its beautiful. Lately my voice has been, as they say on American Idol, "pitchy".
However, I hope to finish strong, serve well, and if I have not run the race with skill at least cross the finish line. I look forward to the days ahead when all the world seems filled with hymns and smells of incense. I love those services in the dark full of anticipation's light. I cherish that time when all is said and done we gather together with our little church is full of joyful conversation, the smell of food, and hope. And yes, that wonderful tired sleep of Bright Monday when everything seems new, that, too, is one of life's pleasures.
As you browse through this blog I hope that your Holy Week is blessed and you would find new joy, faith, and strength in the risen Lord Jesus. Time may not permit me to blog until all is done so until then may your Holy Week and Pascha be filled with grace.
Of course I've made the usual mental checklists. Book? Candles? Vestments? Anyone I need to call? But the truth is this week takes on a life of its own and carries you, like the Liturgy, by the sheer power of momentum. Whether every "i" is dotted and "t" crossed, whether we sing well or just get by, or whether every rubric is met with perfection matters, but not all that much in the larger scheme of things. We're together to pray through this Holy Week and celebrate the joy of Pascha when most of the rest of the world is still asleep.
It's been a fidgety Lent, one where I never seemed to quite get in the flow. Like New Year's I always seem to start out with a list of resolutions that somewhere along the line don't get met, at least not in their entirety. There are always things in Lent that are left undone and part of me would like to, just once, have a "perfect" Lent, whatever that is. Maybe, though, that's the point, there is no perfect Lent, just me trying to wade through a lot of stuff to get some place closer to Christ.
The good thing, of course, is that Lent is a concentrated form of what we should always be doing, living a life of repentance. If I didn't do everything I thought I need to in Lent I still have a new chance every day to get back on track. We Orthodox seem to be people who have the sheet music in front of us, know the tune in our head, but continually struggle to get our voice to match the notes. When we do its beautiful. Lately my voice has been, as they say on American Idol, "pitchy".
However, I hope to finish strong, serve well, and if I have not run the race with skill at least cross the finish line. I look forward to the days ahead when all the world seems filled with hymns and smells of incense. I love those services in the dark full of anticipation's light. I cherish that time when all is said and done we gather together with our little church is full of joyful conversation, the smell of food, and hope. And yes, that wonderful tired sleep of Bright Monday when everything seems new, that, too, is one of life's pleasures.
As you browse through this blog I hope that your Holy Week is blessed and you would find new joy, faith, and strength in the risen Lord Jesus. Time may not permit me to blog until all is done so until then may your Holy Week and Pascha be filled with grace.
4/21/08
Funeral reunions...
There was a reunion in LaCrosse yesterday and like so many it was a reunion at a funeral.
For the largest part of its existence St. Elias has had no resident Priest. Although founded by Saint Raphael of Brooklyn, the parish of Middle Eastern and Greek immigrants in the early 1900's never seemed to be able to take the leap from mission to church and the small body of believers sank into that horrible catch 22 where there was no support from outside to help them obtain a Priest and so no Priest could help them stabilize and since they were not stable they could not get a Priest...
In those days mission policy seemed to be all about gathering a group of people from the old country, sending them a Priest, and then stepping back to see if they sank or swam. St. George in St. Paul, Minnesota had the people to swim. Down river in the much smaller LaCrosse, they sank.
For decades after the founding of the church the only services at St. Elias were whatever could be provided by traveling Priests serving an occasional liturgy, celebrating marriages, and burying the dead. It was often too much for the small group of Orthodox to endure. Numbers dwindled.
Many of St. Elias first American born generation became Episcopalians. Before the ravaging flames of heresy burned through the Episcopal Church it was not uncommon for Orthodox to, in the absence of a local Parish, seek some sustenance from the Episcopal Church. And many of the first generation of American born Orthodox at St. Elias attended and then joined the Episcopal Church. It would be hard to blame them. People need a regular church life and there was none to be had at St. Elias. Had there been a plan. Had there been outside support to help the mission along in its earlier years. Would have, could have, should have.
And so now we have reunions at funerals, reunions where the scattered children of St. Elias come together, people from the same town, with the same names, and often the same baptism but a community sundered apart by the ravages of neglect. My heart aches. It aches for what could have been if just one person or group of people or Hierarch would have said "We need to make this Parish work, we need to help, we need to find a way." At every funeral I meet dozens of people who had been part of St. Elias but who are now lost to us, perhaps forever, and their children, because there was little for them in the years that followed the Parish's founding.
To the extent my heart aches for what could have been I admire the people who stuck it out, those who stayed Orthodox through it all. The people that restarted the Parish in the middle 1970's are warriors although they would probably not describe themselves that way, and martyrs of a kind, bearing witness to the Faith alone on the far edge of the diocese sustained only by faithful Priests who took precious time from their overwhelming schedules to bring life giving sacraments. May their memory, if just for that, be eternal!
And what can we do? For some the mission field is a far off land where people have never heard the Gospel but one part of our mission at St. Elias is to pray for and reach out to, those, who for whatever reason, have been lost to us over time. They are many and there will be things that cannot be undone. But in a way they are still a part of us, dear to our hearts, near to our prayers, our own flesh and blood.
Who knows what can happen in God's timing and will?
For the largest part of its existence St. Elias has had no resident Priest. Although founded by Saint Raphael of Brooklyn, the parish of Middle Eastern and Greek immigrants in the early 1900's never seemed to be able to take the leap from mission to church and the small body of believers sank into that horrible catch 22 where there was no support from outside to help them obtain a Priest and so no Priest could help them stabilize and since they were not stable they could not get a Priest...
In those days mission policy seemed to be all about gathering a group of people from the old country, sending them a Priest, and then stepping back to see if they sank or swam. St. George in St. Paul, Minnesota had the people to swim. Down river in the much smaller LaCrosse, they sank.
For decades after the founding of the church the only services at St. Elias were whatever could be provided by traveling Priests serving an occasional liturgy, celebrating marriages, and burying the dead. It was often too much for the small group of Orthodox to endure. Numbers dwindled.
Many of St. Elias first American born generation became Episcopalians. Before the ravaging flames of heresy burned through the Episcopal Church it was not uncommon for Orthodox to, in the absence of a local Parish, seek some sustenance from the Episcopal Church. And many of the first generation of American born Orthodox at St. Elias attended and then joined the Episcopal Church. It would be hard to blame them. People need a regular church life and there was none to be had at St. Elias. Had there been a plan. Had there been outside support to help the mission along in its earlier years. Would have, could have, should have.
And so now we have reunions at funerals, reunions where the scattered children of St. Elias come together, people from the same town, with the same names, and often the same baptism but a community sundered apart by the ravages of neglect. My heart aches. It aches for what could have been if just one person or group of people or Hierarch would have said "We need to make this Parish work, we need to help, we need to find a way." At every funeral I meet dozens of people who had been part of St. Elias but who are now lost to us, perhaps forever, and their children, because there was little for them in the years that followed the Parish's founding.
To the extent my heart aches for what could have been I admire the people who stuck it out, those who stayed Orthodox through it all. The people that restarted the Parish in the middle 1970's are warriors although they would probably not describe themselves that way, and martyrs of a kind, bearing witness to the Faith alone on the far edge of the diocese sustained only by faithful Priests who took precious time from their overwhelming schedules to bring life giving sacraments. May their memory, if just for that, be eternal!
And what can we do? For some the mission field is a far off land where people have never heard the Gospel but one part of our mission at St. Elias is to pray for and reach out to, those, who for whatever reason, have been lost to us over time. They are many and there will be things that cannot be undone. But in a way they are still a part of us, dear to our hearts, near to our prayers, our own flesh and blood.
Who knows what can happen in God's timing and will?
4/19/08
Palm Sunday
I try to imagine, sometimes, what it must have been like to be Jesus on the day we celebrate as Palm Sunday. What must have been going through His mind as He was surrounded by the crowds cheering Him on?
Who knows what the people in the throngs along the road to Jerusalem thought? Some were looking for a king. Some perhaps were full of religious fervor because of Passover. Others had seen the miracle of Lazarus’ resurrection. Perhaps more than a few were just curious about what the noise was all about. There were probably as many reasons for people to be there as people themselves.
But Jesus’ perspective must have been remarkably different. He understood what was going to happen. He knew that more than a few of the faces in the crowd, filled with hope or joy or the sense of pending victory, would turn dark and threatening in just a few days time. Those who were praising Him now would be mocking Him later; enjoying the fall of the famous has been a human occupation centuries before the National Enquirer. And His friends, those who had followed Him over the years and shared the closest moments, the people who walked beside Him and pushed the crowds back even as they basked in some of the reflected glory; one would betray Him, one would deny Him, the rest would scatter in fear. Jesus knew this would happen even as the rhythmic cadence of His donkey drew Him closer to the city gates.
If Jesus’ had been deceived one could make sense of why He continued on. How could He have known what was to happen? But He knew, every detail of every moment to come, how the people He served and healed and taught would turn on Him, how His friends would leave Him at His most critical time of need, and how He would suffer and die. One could have never faulted Him, knowing what He knew, if He had, with a touch of His hand, steered His animal off the road and away from Jerusalem into the wilderness.
But He kept on and I presume the only answer is that something larger motivated Him, some greater force allowed Jesus to transcend those usual emotions of fear, sadness, anger, or despair that would have overcome even the best of us if our places were changed with His. I believe it was love.
Jesus saw the crowds surrounding Him, those sheep without a shepherd, the thirsty of soul craving living water and saw through their fickle praise and their brokenness to the very core of each one’s soul and loved them. Jesus saw his disciples and even though He knew they could not endure the hard days to come He craved their salvation. In a mystical way He saw us too, each human that had been and each that was yet to be born, fragile, prone to sin and self destruction, captured, as our Liturgy says, by the delusion of idols. Love inspired the hope that some would be saved and set free, and because of love He chose to go ride on, even knowing that we would be in so many ways exactly like the crowds that surrounded Him on His journey to Jerusalem.
Our human ways of loving have no way of making sense of this, of love for its own sake, of love that reaches out infinitely beyond self interest for the eternal well being of another. It defies our categories, makes foolishness of our common sense, and the best of us can only develop of tiny fraction of it in our own lives. Yet it is real and today we’re faced with the full beauty, truth, power, and magnificence it all.
This love of God that we see in the Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, in His willingness to bear our darkness, pain, and death despite our unworthiness and betrayal is the truest love of all and the seed that can transform us. It can warm our cold hearts and turn them to God. It can grant us vision to see all that matters and lay aside what is less. Properly nurtured it changes how we see each other and the world around us, provides rest for our souls, and makes worship natural. To the extent we respond to it in kind we are made more human in the best sense of the word and eternity lives in our hearts. And as we see Jesus unflinching love in the face of death we begin to contemplate the meaning of the word Christian.
Lazarus Saturday
There is something terribly unsettling about death.
No matter how we look at it, whatever façade we create within ourselves to try to make sense of it all, in the end it is still an enigma. We know we must all die at one time or another but that inevitability does little to help us make sense of it all. Most of us just put it out of our minds and hope that when death comes it arrives quickly without giving us much chance to ponder its implications.
But the thought of it doesn’t go away. It’s why the cosmetics business is a multi-billion dollar enterprise and gyms are filled with crowds of sweating, puffing, people. It’s why we all seem to be on an endless quest to cram as much experience into our time as possible and work feverishly to acquire things as if things were life. Timor mortis conturbat me, the fear of death confounds me, and this has been the lot of humans since the beginning of time.
Into this primal anxiety our Faith speaks words of truth and comfort.
The truth is that our anxiousness in the face of death is real because it reflects something we instinctually know. Death is not normal or natural and feels alien to us despite our feverish attempts to come to terms with it and that feeling is correct. We were not designed to die, we were not created to live mortal lives that end. We inherently know something is wrong with the idea that a being with the capability to ponder eternity lives for such a short time.
Our Faith tells us that this twisted reality is because sin, the human choice to reject the life of God came into the world through deception and the perversion of a primal innocence. Because of it humans are broken from the life of God and have become mortal, subject to the ills of a creation in pain. Death is everywhere and we do not escape it ourselves.
Yet on this Lazarus Saturday a greater truth emerges and in that truth is comfort. God, in mercy, chose not to leave us permanently in this despair. In the Liturgy of St. Basil, which we have been serving these past weeks, it is stated that even though our sins have banished us from that place of primal innocence and taken us from paradise into this present world where death exists God still has, in love, provided us with the salvation of regeneration.
Our Lord Jesus Christ has come into the world, God taking on humanity and bearing all of its ills, including death, but never being overcome by any of them. In doing this the ultimate power of death was broken. In union with our Lord we die, but we also rise again by the same power that Jesus exhibited in his own death and resurrection. The resurrection of Lazarus we call to mind today was a foretaste of this, an act of our Lord to demonstrate to those who have the eyes to see that He truly has the power to overcome death and that those who are joined to him share in this.
Knowing this, even though it is our lot to be apprehensive about our mortality and death, we still have hope. Death is an adversary but it’s a foe whose power has been broken. Death is not natural for us, but it is not final either. And in the week to come as we face the sufferings and death of Christ, and by doing so face our own struggles, mortality, and death, this day has been given to us as a preview of the resurrection to come, a ray of hope allowing us to face this ultimate challenge with a calm assurance of salvation.
4/15/08
The rush is on...
Holy Week is just a few days away and the rush is on. So many things to do in such a short time. But what a wonderful, holy, special, and exciting time it is. The next days will be spent in busy preparation, going over texts, cleaning, making bread, buying candles, and the challenge of praying well as once in a year liturgies are served.
Since I work and commute to St. Elias this time of year is a taste of things to come for me, the day when I can move down and be there and do what I need to do full time. I enjoy just being there and being not just John the Programs Coordinator, but Fr. John.
Come Bright Monday there will be a holy tired over our house.
Since I work and commute to St. Elias this time of year is a taste of things to come for me, the day when I can move down and be there and do what I need to do full time. I enjoy just being there and being not just John the Programs Coordinator, but Fr. John.
Come Bright Monday there will be a holy tired over our house.
4/10/08
Times in hand...
The sleet is falling outside, with wind moving through the trees and thunder in the distance. A storm is moving through and they say there'll be over a foot of snow just an hour or so north of here. I wonder what things will look like when I wake tomorrow.
An interesting week is drawing to a close, a week of tension at work and calm at the altar, a new season of change and the timeless flow of faith. My instincts tell me a chapter is ending and something is yet to begin. There's no direction to it all yet, just instinct. Yet the feeling is strong.
My times, your times, the times of the world are all in God's hands. There will always be pressures. There will always be changes. There will always be some crisis. We're not required to be passive in the face of it all but we act rooted in assurance, the assurance that all things are somehow, somewhere in control and part of a larger plan. Right now there are decisions being made and who knows what they will be. I know what I will do. I will not panic but I will pray tonight and place my life in the hands of Mercy and go to work tomorrow and church this weekend to do my very best knowing the everything is in good hands.
An interesting week is drawing to a close, a week of tension at work and calm at the altar, a new season of change and the timeless flow of faith. My instincts tell me a chapter is ending and something is yet to begin. There's no direction to it all yet, just instinct. Yet the feeling is strong.
My times, your times, the times of the world are all in God's hands. There will always be pressures. There will always be changes. There will always be some crisis. We're not required to be passive in the face of it all but we act rooted in assurance, the assurance that all things are somehow, somewhere in control and part of a larger plan. Right now there are decisions being made and who knows what they will be. I know what I will do. I will not panic but I will pray tonight and place my life in the hands of Mercy and go to work tomorrow and church this weekend to do my very best knowing the everything is in good hands.
Fiance...
Last Saturday a former fiance of mine was married up in Crookston, Minnesota. I was invited, with my wife, to the wedding but she was ill and weekends are kind of locked up for me. Although we couldn't come we sent along a card with some money and our best wishes.
The details are not important but things I had hoped for didn't work out between the two of us; too much distance, too many things that didn't make for longevity. It's okay, that's what these things are for, testing out the waters, seeing if a lifetime together is possible with the freedom to back out with less consequence then a divorce.
There is an ironic side in this all, of course, as my wife was supposed to stand up for my former fiance at the wedding. No, she didn't do anything to break things up but one thing leads to another and we've been married now for almost 23 years. I like to talk about it sometimes because it has the feeling of scandal in a lighthearted way even though our lives have been basically boring (if you count boring as contrasted with, say, the life of a movie star). People laugh and smile at it all when I tell them about how I married the Maid of Honor at what would have been my wedding had events not intervened.
Every once in a while you see a bumper sticker that says "You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your Prince" and I think its true. Very few people marry their first love and lots of us have to explore with our hearts exposed before we can find a love that endures. It's an awkward thing and there are a lot of mistakes along the way. Its not hard to step on someone else's toes when you're both stumbling around in the dark, as it were, looking for the light switch.
Still I wish them all well, and pray for them at times, these people who came in to my life as I looked for enduring love. I hope if I was their "frog" they found their prince. I hope they can forgive me for whatever I lacked and that their journey has been smooth. Most of them, of course, I've never seen or heard from because this is the way of things but I do hope one day we may see each other in heaven, recognize each other for an instant, and realize that all has turned out well.
Many blessings, Mary, on your wedding and may God grant you many years!
The details are not important but things I had hoped for didn't work out between the two of us; too much distance, too many things that didn't make for longevity. It's okay, that's what these things are for, testing out the waters, seeing if a lifetime together is possible with the freedom to back out with less consequence then a divorce.
There is an ironic side in this all, of course, as my wife was supposed to stand up for my former fiance at the wedding. No, she didn't do anything to break things up but one thing leads to another and we've been married now for almost 23 years. I like to talk about it sometimes because it has the feeling of scandal in a lighthearted way even though our lives have been basically boring (if you count boring as contrasted with, say, the life of a movie star). People laugh and smile at it all when I tell them about how I married the Maid of Honor at what would have been my wedding had events not intervened.
Every once in a while you see a bumper sticker that says "You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your Prince" and I think its true. Very few people marry their first love and lots of us have to explore with our hearts exposed before we can find a love that endures. It's an awkward thing and there are a lot of mistakes along the way. Its not hard to step on someone else's toes when you're both stumbling around in the dark, as it were, looking for the light switch.
Still I wish them all well, and pray for them at times, these people who came in to my life as I looked for enduring love. I hope if I was their "frog" they found their prince. I hope they can forgive me for whatever I lacked and that their journey has been smooth. Most of them, of course, I've never seen or heard from because this is the way of things but I do hope one day we may see each other in heaven, recognize each other for an instant, and realize that all has turned out well.
Many blessings, Mary, on your wedding and may God grant you many years!
4/8/08
Apologetics...
Rooted in an Evangelical worldview crossexamined.org is a great source for basic apologetics (the defense of the faith). When you get there you'll see a significant number of resources to help you understand your faith and discover how reasonable and defendable your Christian faith can be.
Pay a visit and tell me what you think!
Pay a visit and tell me what you think!
A personal note...
Tomorrow I will be serving the Pre-Sanctified Liturgy in replacement of the Priest at St. George Orthodox Church in West St. Paul, MN. It's the long one with the extra readings and as I have been traveling I have only served a few of these liturgies in my tenure as Priest. Please say a prayer or two!
Thanks.
Thanks.
Changes at work...
Another day of change at work today. Looks like things are going to get rearranged again. And although the truth is that I sometimes get exasperated by it all it's just part of the business.
The economy is supposedly down. I say supposedly because lots of media voices are telling us things are bad. But it's their bread and butter to keep people glued to the set and bad news is a great way to do it. An example; I was listening to the news on my way down to LaCrosse this past weekend and it turns out that around 95 percent of people with mortgages are paying them off on time, the "crisis" is about 5% or so of mortgage holders! But if you watch the television it seems like they portray the whole thing as millions of families just a visit from the evil banker away from losing their homes and starring in their own version of The Grapes of Wrath. But whatever level of truth are in those breathless reports by millionaire news anchors we're on the receiving end of it all in one way.
Our bread and butter, though, is all about seniors selling their homes and making the jump to retirement living with us. Parkshore Senior Campus is a high quality place with a lot of services but also a hefty price tag. Two kinds of people come to stay with us, people with money to begin with and people who've acquired money through the sale of their homes or other assets and are essentially drawing down on that investment by living with us. If people think there is a crisis in housing they hold on for as long as they can, especially the potential clients of our independent living apartments, and vacancies accumulate. Just a handful of openings can take a lot of cash out of the flow and we need to find ways to be creative to keep everything out of deficit
And it could get worse because the baby boom is expected to produce a lot of seniors but how much they've actually saved for their retirement is still in question. My generation, and I'm on the very tail of the baby boom, are not necessarily as thrifty as the WW2 folks who experienced the Depression of the 30's. There's a rush to put up senior apartments, condos, and residences of all kinds but the truth is they might, in just a few years, be scrambling for residents as there will be plenty of space chasing too few with the money to pay the prices.
So it looks like we're going to retool again, find ways to do more with less and make sure all things are lined up in that uniquely corporate way. Part of me is tired of the constant flux but another part understands that this is just the way it is, being nimble and anticipatory is part of the game. One thing is certain, I continue to gain a deeper empathy for those who's vocation lies outside of the Parish, people who work in countless jobs and try to do their best to be Christians while swimming in the corporate river. It is a kind of martyrdom to be able to know how to navigate the maze, be a person of integrity, and still be fresh and ready in a world where business change now happens daily and in some cases on the hour. Whatever else comes out of this these times will make me a better Priest and hopefully wiser as well.
The economy is supposedly down. I say supposedly because lots of media voices are telling us things are bad. But it's their bread and butter to keep people glued to the set and bad news is a great way to do it. An example; I was listening to the news on my way down to LaCrosse this past weekend and it turns out that around 95 percent of people with mortgages are paying them off on time, the "crisis" is about 5% or so of mortgage holders! But if you watch the television it seems like they portray the whole thing as millions of families just a visit from the evil banker away from losing their homes and starring in their own version of The Grapes of Wrath. But whatever level of truth are in those breathless reports by millionaire news anchors we're on the receiving end of it all in one way.
Our bread and butter, though, is all about seniors selling their homes and making the jump to retirement living with us. Parkshore Senior Campus is a high quality place with a lot of services but also a hefty price tag. Two kinds of people come to stay with us, people with money to begin with and people who've acquired money through the sale of their homes or other assets and are essentially drawing down on that investment by living with us. If people think there is a crisis in housing they hold on for as long as they can, especially the potential clients of our independent living apartments, and vacancies accumulate. Just a handful of openings can take a lot of cash out of the flow and we need to find ways to be creative to keep everything out of deficit
And it could get worse because the baby boom is expected to produce a lot of seniors but how much they've actually saved for their retirement is still in question. My generation, and I'm on the very tail of the baby boom, are not necessarily as thrifty as the WW2 folks who experienced the Depression of the 30's. There's a rush to put up senior apartments, condos, and residences of all kinds but the truth is they might, in just a few years, be scrambling for residents as there will be plenty of space chasing too few with the money to pay the prices.
So it looks like we're going to retool again, find ways to do more with less and make sure all things are lined up in that uniquely corporate way. Part of me is tired of the constant flux but another part understands that this is just the way it is, being nimble and anticipatory is part of the game. One thing is certain, I continue to gain a deeper empathy for those who's vocation lies outside of the Parish, people who work in countless jobs and try to do their best to be Christians while swimming in the corporate river. It is a kind of martyrdom to be able to know how to navigate the maze, be a person of integrity, and still be fresh and ready in a world where business change now happens daily and in some cases on the hour. Whatever else comes out of this these times will make me a better Priest and hopefully wiser as well.
The title picture...
Admittedly I get bored with my blog's design and change it every so often, well, just because. But I did find this picture of the Great River Bluffs State Park along Highway 61 and I thought to make a masthead of it because it gives you all an idea of the kind of country where LaCrosse, Wisconsin finds itself and the road I travel every weekend. These bluffs along the highway are my companions on every trip and these two in particular I get to visit on my right going south and my left going north.
The drive going south on Highway 52 to Rochester is faster but now you have an idea why I take my time and enjoy Highway 61.
The drive going south on Highway 52 to Rochester is faster but now you have an idea why I take my time and enjoy Highway 61.
4/6/08
This week's sermon in advance...
April 6, 2008
There are, among all the prayers of the Gospels, two very poignant prayers spoken from the depths of the heart whose words touch us over the centuries.
The first is the prayer of the blind man, Bartimaeus, from the side of the street in Jericho. Hearing that Jesus was near he shouted with his whole being “Jesus Christ, son of David, have mercy on me!” So fierce was his desire to be heard that his call for help drowned out even the noise of crowd and drew Jesus’ attention as he walked by.
The prayer was short and desperate and filled with both the sadness of years living in darkness and the fire of a slim hope undimmed even by the vulnerability of life without sight. His prayer became the basis for our Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner”, our own cry from whatever constitutes our darkness and often filled with the same desperation of its author. When complex thoughts and deep meanings fail us those simple words uttered from our hearts speak paragraphs and verses and chapters.
In the gospel reading for this day we see another kind of prayer, short but full of the pain, struggle and need of a father for his son. “Lord I believe, help me in my unbelief…” and like the Jesus Prayer it’s often our own prayer as well.
It’s not difficult for our heart to go out to this father. Who knows how many cures he sought, only to have his hopes dashed each time? What pain must have coursed through his heart, what sense of powerlessness as his son was thrown about by demonically induced seizures? How many times did he ask why? How many conversations did he have with what he must have thought was empty sky?
And after all of this at the moment he faced Jesus he still wished to reach out one more time for something, anything, to make sense of it all, to cure his pain, and heal his son. But all of that hard experience and all the struggle had taken its toll. Faith was hard to come by, skepticism was there in quantity, and all he could do was ask for help to believe, just one more time.
Life can be very difficult sometimes. Often the pieces of the puzzle just don’t seem to fit. Pain and struggle come to us and the meaning of it all is elusive. The search for answers can be long and difficult and sometimes they never come. We try denying our pain, but the feeling pierces through this armor. We hope to anesthetize our struggles with a hundred different things but the anesthesia wears away. On the surface we’ve maintained our composure but underneath there’s a hidden river where faith and doubt, experience and hope,
flow together in a swift current.
There’s no condemnation in this because its our lot as human beings. In our lives we ‘re destined to be a mixture of faith and doubt, hope and despair. Something inside tells us that there is unimaginably more but it’s a kind of perfection that always seems to elude us in the end. Because of this every kind of joy in our life has a certain kind of melancholy in it and every struggle has its hope.
We carry on. And as we live this life we daily make a crucial decision.
We can let all the struggles and fears and pains of life wash over us like a river raging beyond its banks and be swept away in a kind of permanent cynicism and despair. Life can both be hard and make us hard and there are many who have chosen, in their own way, to take the advice of Job’s wife and curse God and die. The world is populated with jagged people, souls as cold as ice, humans who’ve tasted from the cup of struggle and become bitter from its contents.
Or we can, even in the face of intense adversity, see, somewhere in an inexplicable way, a ray of hope, a small bit of whatever it takes to push through dead end after dead end until our journey takes us to Christ. Bloodied, battered, and messed up, still struggling with the accumulated doubts that are the natural children of life’s struggles we can face God honestly, aware of the challenge, aware of the pain, but with just enough faith to reach for the master’s hand.
It would be good for all of us to be giants of faith, possessed of the courage of Saints. To struggle for that result is a notable thing. But for most of us the truth is it’s going to be a mixed bag, working our way through life as best we can, sometimes getting it and more often than not stumbling around in the dark. And if the truth was known even the holiest of people have had their moments. How good it is, though, in all of this, that our Lord Jesus still cares for us, still loves us, still embrace us, and still is, as our prayers say “…good and the lover of mankind” and not just when all is well but even in those times when the best we can hope for is a flicker of faith in the valley of darkness and our only prayer is “Lord I believe, help me in my unbelief…”
There are, among all the prayers of the Gospels, two very poignant prayers spoken from the depths of the heart whose words touch us over the centuries.
The first is the prayer of the blind man, Bartimaeus, from the side of the street in Jericho. Hearing that Jesus was near he shouted with his whole being “Jesus Christ, son of David, have mercy on me!” So fierce was his desire to be heard that his call for help drowned out even the noise of crowd and drew Jesus’ attention as he walked by.
The prayer was short and desperate and filled with both the sadness of years living in darkness and the fire of a slim hope undimmed even by the vulnerability of life without sight. His prayer became the basis for our Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner”, our own cry from whatever constitutes our darkness and often filled with the same desperation of its author. When complex thoughts and deep meanings fail us those simple words uttered from our hearts speak paragraphs and verses and chapters.
In the gospel reading for this day we see another kind of prayer, short but full of the pain, struggle and need of a father for his son. “Lord I believe, help me in my unbelief…” and like the Jesus Prayer it’s often our own prayer as well.
It’s not difficult for our heart to go out to this father. Who knows how many cures he sought, only to have his hopes dashed each time? What pain must have coursed through his heart, what sense of powerlessness as his son was thrown about by demonically induced seizures? How many times did he ask why? How many conversations did he have with what he must have thought was empty sky?
And after all of this at the moment he faced Jesus he still wished to reach out one more time for something, anything, to make sense of it all, to cure his pain, and heal his son. But all of that hard experience and all the struggle had taken its toll. Faith was hard to come by, skepticism was there in quantity, and all he could do was ask for help to believe, just one more time.
Life can be very difficult sometimes. Often the pieces of the puzzle just don’t seem to fit. Pain and struggle come to us and the meaning of it all is elusive. The search for answers can be long and difficult and sometimes they never come. We try denying our pain, but the feeling pierces through this armor. We hope to anesthetize our struggles with a hundred different things but the anesthesia wears away. On the surface we’ve maintained our composure but underneath there’s a hidden river where faith and doubt, experience and hope,
flow together in a swift current.
There’s no condemnation in this because its our lot as human beings. In our lives we ‘re destined to be a mixture of faith and doubt, hope and despair. Something inside tells us that there is unimaginably more but it’s a kind of perfection that always seems to elude us in the end. Because of this every kind of joy in our life has a certain kind of melancholy in it and every struggle has its hope.
We carry on. And as we live this life we daily make a crucial decision.
We can let all the struggles and fears and pains of life wash over us like a river raging beyond its banks and be swept away in a kind of permanent cynicism and despair. Life can both be hard and make us hard and there are many who have chosen, in their own way, to take the advice of Job’s wife and curse God and die. The world is populated with jagged people, souls as cold as ice, humans who’ve tasted from the cup of struggle and become bitter from its contents.
Or we can, even in the face of intense adversity, see, somewhere in an inexplicable way, a ray of hope, a small bit of whatever it takes to push through dead end after dead end until our journey takes us to Christ. Bloodied, battered, and messed up, still struggling with the accumulated doubts that are the natural children of life’s struggles we can face God honestly, aware of the challenge, aware of the pain, but with just enough faith to reach for the master’s hand.
It would be good for all of us to be giants of faith, possessed of the courage of Saints. To struggle for that result is a notable thing. But for most of us the truth is it’s going to be a mixed bag, working our way through life as best we can, sometimes getting it and more often than not stumbling around in the dark. And if the truth was known even the holiest of people have had their moments. How good it is, though, in all of this, that our Lord Jesus still cares for us, still loves us, still embrace us, and still is, as our prayers say “…good and the lover of mankind” and not just when all is well but even in those times when the best we can hope for is a flicker of faith in the valley of darkness and our only prayer is “Lord I believe, help me in my unbelief…”
4/1/08
Close to home...
A story from Fox News about a student at Tomah High School who got a "zero" on his art project because it had Christian imagery. Tomah is about an hour from LaCrosse, Wisconsin.
A lawsuit, of course, is pending but I have a greater question. The Tomah school will lose this lawsuit because you cannot ban student artistic expression solely because it has a religious theme. The Courts have reaffirmed these rights hundreds of times in cases all over the country. Why is it, then, that these cases keep happening? Are school board officials, principals, and teachers so utterly unaware of these rulings that they keep on formulating policies destined to be shot down, again and again, in the Courts? Or are they so immeshed in PC they think the rules somewhere else simply don't apply to them? It's just frustrating to have to pound on this door over and over again.
Thankfully there are attorneys who will fight these rulings in the courts and preserve the rights of religious believers, especially Christians (and why does it always seem to be about Christians) to express their faith in the public square. We, too, must always be vigilant about these things because if we take our rights for granted they will, sometimes slowly and sometimes in a rush, be taken away.
A lawsuit, of course, is pending but I have a greater question. The Tomah school will lose this lawsuit because you cannot ban student artistic expression solely because it has a religious theme. The Courts have reaffirmed these rights hundreds of times in cases all over the country. Why is it, then, that these cases keep happening? Are school board officials, principals, and teachers so utterly unaware of these rulings that they keep on formulating policies destined to be shot down, again and again, in the Courts? Or are they so immeshed in PC they think the rules somewhere else simply don't apply to them? It's just frustrating to have to pound on this door over and over again.
Thankfully there are attorneys who will fight these rulings in the courts and preserve the rights of religious believers, especially Christians (and why does it always seem to be about Christians) to express their faith in the public square. We, too, must always be vigilant about these things because if we take our rights for granted they will, sometimes slowly and sometimes in a rush, be taken away.
3/31/08
About ten in the evening...
It's about ten in the evening here in Minnesota, the last day in March and the snow is piling up outside. They say we'll get around seven inches before its all over. Its not that much of a problem, though, because these spring snows hit hard and go away fast. Down the river a ways it's a much bigger deal because that water has to go somewhere and that somewhere eventually is the Mississippi and you can already see the river swell.
Of course its Monday, the day when good Priests are supposed to take off and rest a bit but I have two jobs and so every day is a work day. The boss was sick today and will be tomorrow so it looks like I'll just keep moving until someone yells "Stop!" Busy is still better than bored.
There are the usual things on my mind, people in the hospital, all the calls I should be making but can't. This traveling thing has its own tradeoffs. We have more money now then ever and we're spending it on things that really need to be done but I'm away and so many of the normal pastoral things just fall through the cracks or I try to catch up on Saturday and Sunday if I can. As is usual I'm just plain tired but somehow I find a way to make it through. No complaints, though, because I knew this was how it was going to be when I signed on.
The truth is I have much for which to be thankful. Yes, it would be nice to have the money and people and facilities of a larger church. And for sure it would be great to drive a few minutes rather then a few hours to get home. But the people of St. Elias are good. Sometimes when a parish gets small the people do as well but there are a fair amount of folks at St. Elias who really do want something better for their parish and they're willing to work hard.
We're just in the process of refinishing the basement at St. Elias and the members who've worked on it have done a magnificent job. Everything up to date, walls fixed, new electrical, the works. I hope this is a more then just a renovation. I hope the people see what they, when they give their hearts to God and their hands to work, can do. There's more to fix and more to clean but the Ladies Group, just restarted this year, is getting busy on the kitchen and I anticipate this to be a summer of building and growth. Boy would I like to have a benefactor or a lottery win to kick it all into high hear!
My hope is that the people of St. Elias will keep on pushing forward. My fear is that somewhere along the line they'll lose hope. May angels protect us! Anyway I need to make calls tomorrow and start working on the Liturgy. There will be snow to shovel and lots to do at work. My cat is already asleep on the bed and I should be too.
Lord watch over your flock at St. Elias through this night and in all the days to come. Have mercy on their sinful Priest, and establish us by Your grace.
Good night.
Of course its Monday, the day when good Priests are supposed to take off and rest a bit but I have two jobs and so every day is a work day. The boss was sick today and will be tomorrow so it looks like I'll just keep moving until someone yells "Stop!" Busy is still better than bored.
There are the usual things on my mind, people in the hospital, all the calls I should be making but can't. This traveling thing has its own tradeoffs. We have more money now then ever and we're spending it on things that really need to be done but I'm away and so many of the normal pastoral things just fall through the cracks or I try to catch up on Saturday and Sunday if I can. As is usual I'm just plain tired but somehow I find a way to make it through. No complaints, though, because I knew this was how it was going to be when I signed on.
The truth is I have much for which to be thankful. Yes, it would be nice to have the money and people and facilities of a larger church. And for sure it would be great to drive a few minutes rather then a few hours to get home. But the people of St. Elias are good. Sometimes when a parish gets small the people do as well but there are a fair amount of folks at St. Elias who really do want something better for their parish and they're willing to work hard.
We're just in the process of refinishing the basement at St. Elias and the members who've worked on it have done a magnificent job. Everything up to date, walls fixed, new electrical, the works. I hope this is a more then just a renovation. I hope the people see what they, when they give their hearts to God and their hands to work, can do. There's more to fix and more to clean but the Ladies Group, just restarted this year, is getting busy on the kitchen and I anticipate this to be a summer of building and growth. Boy would I like to have a benefactor or a lottery win to kick it all into high hear!
My hope is that the people of St. Elias will keep on pushing forward. My fear is that somewhere along the line they'll lose hope. May angels protect us! Anyway I need to make calls tomorrow and start working on the Liturgy. There will be snow to shovel and lots to do at work. My cat is already asleep on the bed and I should be too.
Lord watch over your flock at St. Elias through this night and in all the days to come. Have mercy on their sinful Priest, and establish us by Your grace.
Good night.
3/29/08
This week's sermon in advance...
Sunday of the Adoration of the Cross
March 30, 2008
There are crosses, it seems, everywhere in our culture, on the sides of roads, around people’s necks, on bumpers and buildings everywhere. Rock stars wear them as bling, cemeteries have them for hope, and bikers wear them as tattoos. A cross inspires veneration in one and loathing in another. In art they sometimes become masterpieces and other times the visual expression of an artist’s contempt. They are simultaneously present in many places and banished from the public square. They are everywhere found and seldom understood, even by those who claim the faith they symbolize.
So what is a cross?
In its origins the cross was a tool of execution used by cultures before them but perfected by the Romans. It was a junction of two pieces of wood roughly in the shape of the letter “t” designed to promote a lingering death by torture and asphyxiation with a maximum amount of public spectacle for those sentenced to die under Roman law. Its effect as propaganda was immense because it displayed Roman authority and the consequences of rebellion and this is probably why the title “King of The Jews” was written over Jesus’ head in all the common languages of the region as a reminder of what would happen to those who defied Caesar. The savagery of this method of execution was so profound that it was inflicted only on foreigners, Roman citizens like St. Paul, no matter how great their alleged crime, were executed by a swift beheading.
And it was because of Jesus’ death on such a device that representations of it became the predominant symbol of Christian faith. To the early Christians the meaning of what occurred in that death transformed what the larger culture certainly saw as a representation of a dishonorable life and end into a symbol of victory, life, and hope. Although the earliest Christians already possessed an iconography of various symbols, lambs, fish, the good shepherd, none had both the power and depth of the simple representation of two lines crossed. We Orthodox continue this veneration of the cross because we see what the Romans had perfected for torture as the very place where our Lord voluntarily gave up his life and in doing so broke the ultimate power of sin and death and in doing so provided a way for us to be restored to union with God.
The cross for us, as Orthodox is not a place of punishment where an angry God, offended by our sins receives a sacrifice sufficient enough to turn away his wrath. The cross is not the place where Jesus stepped in to deflect the angry blows of God directed towards us. These images are understandable because this is what the Romans designed the cross to be; an instrument of punishment, but it is not our Orthodox understanding.
When you see a cross in the Orthodox setting you see Jesus, not flayed and tortured like in the movie “The Passion of the Christ” but already dead, peaceful, and remaining full of grace and power. Certainly the sufferings of Jesus were real but we, as Orthodox, already see beyond them as Jesus did and we are aware of the timeless significance of those hours on the cross even as we see Jesus’ body at rest.
We know that where others see defeat and death we see victory and life. Where some may see another triumph of the Roman empire and the religious leaders who brought Jesus to trial we see the King of Kings and Lord of Lords in the aftermath of conquering everything that has kept we humans broken and apart from God. Even as Jesus’ lifeless body is on the cross he is entering the realm of death and pillaging it, removing all who would respond from the grip of hades. The thief is already in paradise and hell shudders.
The world sees powerlessness but we see the most amazing display of power. The world sees brokenness but we understand that healing has come. The world sees the strength of darkness, but we know that in three days time a light will come that can never be overtaken by the night. In that cross we already see the seeds of the resurrection and so even in the middle of this disfiguring moment there is hope.
And from all of that a well of gratitude should spring up in us. God in love entered our world to teach us how to live and out of love voluntarily allowed himself to endure suffering and death so that its ultimate power could be broken and we could be restored. Even sin and pain and death are not so powerful that they could not be swallowed up in the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. One day we will know this for ourselves because in union with Him even death can never have the final word on our destiny.
In this middle of Lent, when the novelty of the fast has grown cold and when, if we are facing our sins a kind of weariness may set in, we have this day to look into the distance and see the cross, the tree of life, and take hope. In a few short weeks we will be singing “Christ has risen from the dead trampling down death by death…” and knowing that alone you will understand the cross we venerate today.
March 30, 2008
There are crosses, it seems, everywhere in our culture, on the sides of roads, around people’s necks, on bumpers and buildings everywhere. Rock stars wear them as bling, cemeteries have them for hope, and bikers wear them as tattoos. A cross inspires veneration in one and loathing in another. In art they sometimes become masterpieces and other times the visual expression of an artist’s contempt. They are simultaneously present in many places and banished from the public square. They are everywhere found and seldom understood, even by those who claim the faith they symbolize.
So what is a cross?
In its origins the cross was a tool of execution used by cultures before them but perfected by the Romans. It was a junction of two pieces of wood roughly in the shape of the letter “t” designed to promote a lingering death by torture and asphyxiation with a maximum amount of public spectacle for those sentenced to die under Roman law. Its effect as propaganda was immense because it displayed Roman authority and the consequences of rebellion and this is probably why the title “King of The Jews” was written over Jesus’ head in all the common languages of the region as a reminder of what would happen to those who defied Caesar. The savagery of this method of execution was so profound that it was inflicted only on foreigners, Roman citizens like St. Paul, no matter how great their alleged crime, were executed by a swift beheading.
And it was because of Jesus’ death on such a device that representations of it became the predominant symbol of Christian faith. To the early Christians the meaning of what occurred in that death transformed what the larger culture certainly saw as a representation of a dishonorable life and end into a symbol of victory, life, and hope. Although the earliest Christians already possessed an iconography of various symbols, lambs, fish, the good shepherd, none had both the power and depth of the simple representation of two lines crossed. We Orthodox continue this veneration of the cross because we see what the Romans had perfected for torture as the very place where our Lord voluntarily gave up his life and in doing so broke the ultimate power of sin and death and in doing so provided a way for us to be restored to union with God.
The cross for us, as Orthodox is not a place of punishment where an angry God, offended by our sins receives a sacrifice sufficient enough to turn away his wrath. The cross is not the place where Jesus stepped in to deflect the angry blows of God directed towards us. These images are understandable because this is what the Romans designed the cross to be; an instrument of punishment, but it is not our Orthodox understanding.
When you see a cross in the Orthodox setting you see Jesus, not flayed and tortured like in the movie “The Passion of the Christ” but already dead, peaceful, and remaining full of grace and power. Certainly the sufferings of Jesus were real but we, as Orthodox, already see beyond them as Jesus did and we are aware of the timeless significance of those hours on the cross even as we see Jesus’ body at rest.
We know that where others see defeat and death we see victory and life. Where some may see another triumph of the Roman empire and the religious leaders who brought Jesus to trial we see the King of Kings and Lord of Lords in the aftermath of conquering everything that has kept we humans broken and apart from God. Even as Jesus’ lifeless body is on the cross he is entering the realm of death and pillaging it, removing all who would respond from the grip of hades. The thief is already in paradise and hell shudders.
The world sees powerlessness but we see the most amazing display of power. The world sees brokenness but we understand that healing has come. The world sees the strength of darkness, but we know that in three days time a light will come that can never be overtaken by the night. In that cross we already see the seeds of the resurrection and so even in the middle of this disfiguring moment there is hope.
And from all of that a well of gratitude should spring up in us. God in love entered our world to teach us how to live and out of love voluntarily allowed himself to endure suffering and death so that its ultimate power could be broken and we could be restored. Even sin and pain and death are not so powerful that they could not be swallowed up in the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. One day we will know this for ourselves because in union with Him even death can never have the final word on our destiny.
In this middle of Lent, when the novelty of the fast has grown cold and when, if we are facing our sins a kind of weariness may set in, we have this day to look into the distance and see the cross, the tree of life, and take hope. In a few short weeks we will be singing “Christ has risen from the dead trampling down death by death…” and knowing that alone you will understand the cross we venerate today.
3/26/08
Attack and desecration...
Anti-war protestors interrupt an Easter Mass at Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago by yelling and spilling stage blood on the nave and worshippers. Catholic churches have experienced any number of such assaults by activists of various kinds and as you watch the video note that the Cathedral, perhaps from past experience, had hired private security guards anticipating just such a possibility.
There are a growing number of people who feel it's their right to protest larger social issues or individual items of church policy or doctrine by using worship services as stages for their grievances. Interestingly this seems to be a phenomena, at least in this country, directed almost entirely at Christian churches. I've not heard of a story where a group of protestors, for example, stand up and interrupt Muslim prayers to make a point. Perhaps it feels "edgy" to invade a parish and desecrate the service (especially knowing the congregants aren't likely to fight back) or maybe these are just folks who see themselves as above the rights of others because of of their perception of the righteousness of their cause. Certainly there is a double standard at work. Imagine the outrage if a group of observant Christians stood up in the middle of a service of the Metropolitan Community Church and protested in the same way as the Rainbow Sash folks do every year in your local Catholic parish!
Regardless, we Orthodox should not expect that we'll be immune from these attacks and desecrations. We live in an amoral time when the basic common sense rules of decency don't seem to apply from Congress to classrooms so why should a parish be immune? The truth is that one day our own vision of faith and its implications for people's lives and the greater society, hidden for decades under our ethnic cloak, will become known and we will be a target as well.
Expect it but don't be afraid. Attacks like these indicate the desperateness of the attackers. Having failed to convince people, and sometimes themselves, by rational argument they seek ever more dramatic measures to make their point. Why would a mature, self confident, gay person feel the need to wear a rainbow colored sash and disrupt a worship service? Why would people supposedly arguing for peace feel the need to harrass the very people they are trying to convince? In that uncertainty action replaces introspection and inflicting onself on others becomes a form of validation when the normal channels are insufficient.
It may also be that God is allowing a little fire to come our way to burn away the flabbiness and help us to be who we were meant to be. Having been given all the priviledges of American law and society it is safe to say that we American Christians, certainly we Orthodox, have accomplished only a tiny fragment of what we should have with all our blessings. We, and I, remain self absorbed and in many ways identical to the larger materialistic culture around us. Perhaps we need some pressure, certainly I know I do, to help us put aside lesser things and direct our lives to things higher. In an off beat way these sad, desperate folks interrupting services may be a kind of prophet, their own actions and character warning us of things to come and calling us back to that which matters.
What do you think?
3/25/08
Festus...
Some of you of my vintage may remember Ken Curtis who played the nasally deputy Festus to Matt Dillon in TV's "Gunsmoke". Well, that man had pipes and worked as a singing cowboy in the movies, with the Sons of the Pioneers, and as a solo. He's passed on now, but if you like cowboy music take a listen. By the way, are you as shocked to discover this as I am? The best equivalent I can remember is the magnificent voice that came out of Jim Nabors who played the nerdy hick "Gomer Pyle" on The Andy Griffith Show and Gomer Pyle USMC.
3/24/08
The Ties that Bind...
What binds the religious right and left in America is a sense of utopianism, the belief that the Kingdom of God, as each defines it, can be established in law before it is established in hearts. And although they would claim to disagree with each other on issues they are amazingly congruent with each other in principles and the means to the ends they seek.
3/21/08
Good Friday...
It's Good Friday in the West and the news on the radio this morning began with "In the Philipines the event is marked by people nailing themselves to crosses and flogging themselves..." or some such twist.
For the most part I am appalled at media's coverage of religion. There are few reporters willing to do the leg work to go beyond the stereotypes and many who seem to approach the topic the same way a child approaches a plate of brussel sprouts. The complaints, especially from the religiously observant, about bias and incompetence in the media regarding religion are mostly true.
This story is an example of that, although the ABC radio journalist did mention after the fact that the Catholic Church frowns on the practice of self crucifixion. What was important was not how many millions around the world were commemorating the death of Jesus but rather what kind of bloody freak show they could dig up combining both an attempt to snare the gullible into listening while also conveying contempt for Christianity. If you have the patience don't be suprised if a story like this leads the news next year as well.
That kind of shoddy work is why I almost always start my day with a quick peek at www.getreligion.org , perhaps the single best www site out there examining the way the media covers, or fails to cover, religious news. GetReligion asks the important questions and evaluates the data in a professional and thoroughgoing way and especially now in the Lenten season when mainstream media outlets deliberately seek out controversy, sideshows, and heretics to cover it can be a most valuable place to get some focus.
For the most part I am appalled at media's coverage of religion. There are few reporters willing to do the leg work to go beyond the stereotypes and many who seem to approach the topic the same way a child approaches a plate of brussel sprouts. The complaints, especially from the religiously observant, about bias and incompetence in the media regarding religion are mostly true.
This story is an example of that, although the ABC radio journalist did mention after the fact that the Catholic Church frowns on the practice of self crucifixion. What was important was not how many millions around the world were commemorating the death of Jesus but rather what kind of bloody freak show they could dig up combining both an attempt to snare the gullible into listening while also conveying contempt for Christianity. If you have the patience don't be suprised if a story like this leads the news next year as well.
That kind of shoddy work is why I almost always start my day with a quick peek at www.getreligion.org , perhaps the single best www site out there examining the way the media covers, or fails to cover, religious news. GetReligion asks the important questions and evaluates the data in a professional and thoroughgoing way and especially now in the Lenten season when mainstream media outlets deliberately seek out controversy, sideshows, and heretics to cover it can be a most valuable place to get some focus.
3/18/08
A March snow...
It looks like a night and day of snow here in Minnesota even as we're on the cusp of spring.
That's not unusual, though, because even as the daylight grows and the fierce northwest winds subside the snow still comes. Thick flakes today, wet with moisture and covering everything in a coat of white. By tonight most of it may be gone because the weather and the change of seasons cannot be denied but still in the small hours of the morning there is a kind of beauty to it all, a memory of the best of winter.
Being the stoic folks we are we often find ways to rationalize about the weather. In winter when the snow falls deep and travel becomes messy and the pace of our lives unwinds we often rationalize it all by saying "Oh well, we need the moisture." It's our way of coming to terms with a nature that's bigger then us and our own fragility in the face of it all but right now it's actually true as well. We're pretty dry. Most of the large snow storms this past winter have journeyed south of us into Iowa and through Illinois, nicking the edge of Wisconsin as they pass. We're below average, water wise, and every bit of wet we get will make a difference months from now.
There is a double blessing in a March snow. In a dry time it brings vital water and no matter how much we get in March there is a different sense about it. A March snow still brings things to a crawl, still messes up our lives, still makes everything inconvenient to us as defined by our current "gotta have it now " culture, but its different. A foot of snow in December means we have at least two months to deal with it. A foot of snow in March may be gone in two days. On occasion tulips will show their leaves right through a March snow, and our own hope emerges as well. Spring is coming and nothing snow can do will change it.
That's not unusual, though, because even as the daylight grows and the fierce northwest winds subside the snow still comes. Thick flakes today, wet with moisture and covering everything in a coat of white. By tonight most of it may be gone because the weather and the change of seasons cannot be denied but still in the small hours of the morning there is a kind of beauty to it all, a memory of the best of winter.
Being the stoic folks we are we often find ways to rationalize about the weather. In winter when the snow falls deep and travel becomes messy and the pace of our lives unwinds we often rationalize it all by saying "Oh well, we need the moisture." It's our way of coming to terms with a nature that's bigger then us and our own fragility in the face of it all but right now it's actually true as well. We're pretty dry. Most of the large snow storms this past winter have journeyed south of us into Iowa and through Illinois, nicking the edge of Wisconsin as they pass. We're below average, water wise, and every bit of wet we get will make a difference months from now.
There is a double blessing in a March snow. In a dry time it brings vital water and no matter how much we get in March there is a different sense about it. A March snow still brings things to a crawl, still messes up our lives, still makes everything inconvenient to us as defined by our current "gotta have it now " culture, but its different. A foot of snow in December means we have at least two months to deal with it. A foot of snow in March may be gone in two days. On occasion tulips will show their leaves right through a March snow, and our own hope emerges as well. Spring is coming and nothing snow can do will change it.
3/14/08
3/13/08
A good morning...
Among the simple gifts of life is a good sleep. The best kind is one reasonably undisturbed in a safe, warm, place, long enough to provide rest but not so long as to promote sluggishness. When you have two jobs such a sleep is near sacramental in its effect and the morning after is almost irrelevant because a rested body can easily face nearly any kind of day.
3/12/08
1 in 4...
1 in 4 American teenage girls has an STD according to this study. But wasn't all this supposed to go away when we had all those classes and gave everyone who wanted one a free condom and stopped making those inhibiting moral judgements?
Apparently not, and therein lies a lesson. Some time ago I heard a Christians speaker named Tony Campolo and among his comments was his belief the Christian life would be worth living even if there was no heaven.The story above is a case in point. The ancient wisdom of those Christian traditions and texts stressing faithfulness, chastity, and marriage, far from being some less enlightened notion, are proving to be the way of health and wholeness as disease responds to our lack of inhibition. Nothing but the Christian life will ever stop the ills of our indulgent and godless culture and even if we don't see ourselves as "religious" thier truths are still inevitable.
That all being said it's been one of the discoveries of my life as I grow older, how the Christian path just makes sense, how it flows with the rythms of nature and how its call to live in the world and with others is the way not just to eternal bliss, but to true contentment even in this broken world. How realistic Christian faith is, how practical, how life enhancing, how deep a well it is full of life giving water! My life is most at rest when it flows within this Faith and most troubled when it flows away because these truths were built into the very design of things by the Creator. And so it is, or at least should be, for the world as well.
Apparently not, and therein lies a lesson. Some time ago I heard a Christians speaker named Tony Campolo and among his comments was his belief the Christian life would be worth living even if there was no heaven.The story above is a case in point. The ancient wisdom of those Christian traditions and texts stressing faithfulness, chastity, and marriage, far from being some less enlightened notion, are proving to be the way of health and wholeness as disease responds to our lack of inhibition. Nothing but the Christian life will ever stop the ills of our indulgent and godless culture and even if we don't see ourselves as "religious" thier truths are still inevitable.
That all being said it's been one of the discoveries of my life as I grow older, how the Christian path just makes sense, how it flows with the rythms of nature and how its call to live in the world and with others is the way not just to eternal bliss, but to true contentment even in this broken world. How realistic Christian faith is, how practical, how life enhancing, how deep a well it is full of life giving water! My life is most at rest when it flows within this Faith and most troubled when it flows away because these truths were built into the very design of things by the Creator. And so it is, or at least should be, for the world as well.
3/11/08
Another thought...
Among the things that amaze me about God is His ability to both see clearly and love truly. Those who love me, even those who love me best, only love a shadow, an image, a bit of the substance with enough smoke and mirrors to hide the darkest things. God sees me in a total exposure, a way I don't even see myself, something beyond what ever cloaks of skin or soul or intellect I can produce. With God I am totally exposed, there is no hiding, no little white lies to keep others from seeing my illnesses. Yet I am totally loved even when those things, those deep pockets in my soul which repel me and would destroy the illusion others have grown to love, are open to the blinding sun. Unfathomable.
3/10/08
A feast beneath the snow...
Spring is starting to break out and as my car carried me over the miles in western Wisconsin I saw the signs of its coming feast.
Throughout the winter as the deer and the animals cross the roads they can fall prey to passing cars and trucks. Thrown violently into pieces they die and freeze and often get covered with snow. In the woods beyond others follow their natural course and pass away. The God who sees sparrows falling remembers but we care little and soon forget; until spring. As the snow retreats all the places where these animals were entombed are revealed again, deer with lifeless eyes peering from shrinking snowbanks, raccoons resting places uncovered by the growing sun.
And it is at this point, when winter has come to the end of its course and those animals who have endured are gaunt with it's scarcity that the feast is revealed. In the course of things fresh meals emerge with the lengthening daylight and between the harshness of winter and the renewal of spring there is enough to make the final push through to the thaw. Coyotes and crows, eagles and weasels and anything from bear to bug are fed by an invisible hand as death gives life in its timeless way.
Such is the way of things along the bluffs and in a hundred hidden coulees where the roads and the land and the river intersect. Such is the way of things, death giving life, in a more profound and heavenly understanding, as Lent blankets the world.
Throughout the winter as the deer and the animals cross the roads they can fall prey to passing cars and trucks. Thrown violently into pieces they die and freeze and often get covered with snow. In the woods beyond others follow their natural course and pass away. The God who sees sparrows falling remembers but we care little and soon forget; until spring. As the snow retreats all the places where these animals were entombed are revealed again, deer with lifeless eyes peering from shrinking snowbanks, raccoons resting places uncovered by the growing sun.
And it is at this point, when winter has come to the end of its course and those animals who have endured are gaunt with it's scarcity that the feast is revealed. In the course of things fresh meals emerge with the lengthening daylight and between the harshness of winter and the renewal of spring there is enough to make the final push through to the thaw. Coyotes and crows, eagles and weasels and anything from bear to bug are fed by an invisible hand as death gives life in its timeless way.
Such is the way of things along the bluffs and in a hundred hidden coulees where the roads and the land and the river intersect. Such is the way of things, death giving life, in a more profound and heavenly understanding, as Lent blankets the world.
Post 500...
This is post 500 in the Traveling Priest Chronicles, a landmark of sorts I suppose.
I started this blog not knowing for sure what I was attempting to do and only certain there were things I'd like to say and perhaps it would be of some value to record life on the road and whatever thoughts came to me along the journey. I wondered if it were perhaps a bit pompous to think that what I had to say even mattered.
Along the way the blog has been kind of a diary that I share with whoever drops in, the book I intended to write but never quite got around to doing, and a log of the miles and people and miscellanea encountered on the road from St. Paul, Minnesota to LaCrosse, Wisconsin. It's rapidly approaching three years now of travels to St. Elias Church, three years of seven day weeks, three years of motels and its been an adventure. When I get older people make think I'm making it all up, some kind of "Fr John story" they can politely dismiss as an old man's fancy.
I've wondered, sometimes, what I will do if and when I ever actually live in the same vicinity of the parish I serve. What will I call the blog when there are no more travels? But right now its Monday night, I'm a bit road weary and getting ready for the First Sunday in Lent. Home seems like a long way off and I might have to make the run for who knows how long until I finally find it.
Until then I'll just keep traveling and writing and hoping that it blesses whoever comes along to read.
I started this blog not knowing for sure what I was attempting to do and only certain there were things I'd like to say and perhaps it would be of some value to record life on the road and whatever thoughts came to me along the journey. I wondered if it were perhaps a bit pompous to think that what I had to say even mattered.
Along the way the blog has been kind of a diary that I share with whoever drops in, the book I intended to write but never quite got around to doing, and a log of the miles and people and miscellanea encountered on the road from St. Paul, Minnesota to LaCrosse, Wisconsin. It's rapidly approaching three years now of travels to St. Elias Church, three years of seven day weeks, three years of motels and its been an adventure. When I get older people make think I'm making it all up, some kind of "Fr John story" they can politely dismiss as an old man's fancy.
I've wondered, sometimes, what I will do if and when I ever actually live in the same vicinity of the parish I serve. What will I call the blog when there are no more travels? But right now its Monday night, I'm a bit road weary and getting ready for the First Sunday in Lent. Home seems like a long way off and I might have to make the run for who knows how long until I finally find it.
Until then I'll just keep traveling and writing and hoping that it blesses whoever comes along to read.
3/6/08
Privacy matters...
A story on the continued inability of the FBI to properly protect citizen's privacy in its investigations and another on the creation of a nationwide computer data system linking investigative organizations. Both beg the question, "Who's watching the watchers?"
Privacy matters, the ability to know that your life is free from undue scrutiny is a bedrock of a free society. Quite frankly this current administration has, in my opinion, significantly eroded the protections that ordinary citizens have from government and corporate interests having access to all kinds of details of our lives whether there is just cause or not. The current strategy of protecting against "terrorism" by leaving borders undefended and large parts of our commercial infrastructure uninspected while increasingly invading the privacy of people just trying to go about their lives seems to have left sense behind.
Someone once said that those who choose to give up their freedoms for security will end up with neither and government, with corporate cooperation, is in the process of making that nightmare come true. Sadly very few in the political class seem to care about this and the issue still hasn't made it above the horizon in the current campaigns. Too many people are focused on the details while the foundations are slowly being hacked away. What 's actually more important, that people have some help with a mortgage or have the freedom to live their lives without some government hack taking a cruise through your private life whenever they feel like it? Do the math.
Privacy matters, the ability to know that your life is free from undue scrutiny is a bedrock of a free society. Quite frankly this current administration has, in my opinion, significantly eroded the protections that ordinary citizens have from government and corporate interests having access to all kinds of details of our lives whether there is just cause or not. The current strategy of protecting against "terrorism" by leaving borders undefended and large parts of our commercial infrastructure uninspected while increasingly invading the privacy of people just trying to go about their lives seems to have left sense behind.
Someone once said that those who choose to give up their freedoms for security will end up with neither and government, with corporate cooperation, is in the process of making that nightmare come true. Sadly very few in the political class seem to care about this and the issue still hasn't made it above the horizon in the current campaigns. Too many people are focused on the details while the foundations are slowly being hacked away. What 's actually more important, that people have some help with a mortgage or have the freedom to live their lives without some government hack taking a cruise through your private life whenever they feel like it? Do the math.
Divine justice...
It was a beautiful Sunday morning, the air was clear, the sun was bright and Fr. Peter really just wanted to skip Liturgy and go golfing. So he hatched a plan.
He called the Council President and in his best hacking, sneezing, sick, voice told him that he was sorry but he was just so ill and although he really wished he could be there he just needed to rest and so he couldn’t serve that day. When the call was over he got into his clothes, slung the bag over his shoulder, and headed to the golf course.
Meanwhile in heaven the angels were watching the whole thing and reported the matter to God questioning Him as to what he was going to do about Fr. Peter. God calmly replied, “Don’t worry, it’s handled.”
Arriving at the golf course Fr. Peter stepped to the first tee, placed his ball, and swung. The ball exploded off the tee, straight and true over the entire length of the fairway, took three hops and plopped into the cup, the shot of a lifetime. At this point the angels were deeply puzzled. Didn’t God see what had happened and had He forgotten about what Fr. Peter had done? Sputtering and incoherent they asked God why he allowed a hole in one as a reward for such deeds.
God replied “So who’s he going to tell?”
He called the Council President and in his best hacking, sneezing, sick, voice told him that he was sorry but he was just so ill and although he really wished he could be there he just needed to rest and so he couldn’t serve that day. When the call was over he got into his clothes, slung the bag over his shoulder, and headed to the golf course.
Meanwhile in heaven the angels were watching the whole thing and reported the matter to God questioning Him as to what he was going to do about Fr. Peter. God calmly replied, “Don’t worry, it’s handled.”
Arriving at the golf course Fr. Peter stepped to the first tee, placed his ball, and swung. The ball exploded off the tee, straight and true over the entire length of the fairway, took three hops and plopped into the cup, the shot of a lifetime. At this point the angels were deeply puzzled. Didn’t God see what had happened and had He forgotten about what Fr. Peter had done? Sputtering and incoherent they asked God why he allowed a hole in one as a reward for such deeds.
God replied “So who’s he going to tell?”
Punishment for atheism...?
A soldier is claiming he was punished and denied promotion because he's an atheist.
It's important to remember that whenever you read about a lawsuit the coverage will be about the initial charges, the claims of the plaintiff packaged to make the most emotional impact possible. It's a strategy to gain publicity, sympathy, and in effect make the opening arguments of the case long before it actually comes to court. This effort is enhanced by the fact that many defendants, unlike plaintiffs, are bound by privacy laws which don't allow them to divulge information that would exonerate them before trial or the simple fact that a news story can come into play before a defendant has even read through the first documents of the case.
My guess is that in a couple of years when both sides have been heard the claims, as they often are, will be much less dramatic, hammered down to size by the cool process of law.
It's important to remember that whenever you read about a lawsuit the coverage will be about the initial charges, the claims of the plaintiff packaged to make the most emotional impact possible. It's a strategy to gain publicity, sympathy, and in effect make the opening arguments of the case long before it actually comes to court. This effort is enhanced by the fact that many defendants, unlike plaintiffs, are bound by privacy laws which don't allow them to divulge information that would exonerate them before trial or the simple fact that a news story can come into play before a defendant has even read through the first documents of the case.
My guess is that in a couple of years when both sides have been heard the claims, as they often are, will be much less dramatic, hammered down to size by the cool process of law.
3/5/08
A thought...
Give your loyalty to your job, a fair day's work for a fair day's pay with a little extra in remembrance that in working well we, in a mystical way, also serve our Lord. But never give your job or your company your soul. There is no treasure of earth that is pay sufficient for even a fragment of it.
3/4/08
Religion and war...
Had a co-worker bring out the old "more people have been killed in wars over religion..." chestnut today and having grown tired of hearing stuff like this over time from folks who've combined over confidence and under thinking into the toxic soup of slogan I decided to answer back.
First, in the matter of sheer body count its probable the officially secular and athiestic regimes of the 20th century probably have the honors. The mechanized and systematic killing of the century past simply has no counterpart in human history and resembles something more like an epidemic illness in its gross killing power then the battlefields of even the prior century and certainly less then the supposed "dark ages".
Second, one needs to do some critical thinking and analyze the actual causes of war. There are many cases where religious belief was used by the prevailing authorities as one way to legitimize a particular war, and certainly people who were personally devout have fought in wars and perhaps even seen their involvement as a form of devotion, but not nearly as many cases where religion itself was the actual cause of the conflict. It is probably a fair criticism to say that too often religious groups have lent uncritical support to governments as they embark on wars but even that support does not mean a given war's source is religion, just that religion has allowed itself to become a tool of the larger effort to support a war. A small bit of rational investigation yields the conclusion that war is the sad result of many causes and effects and rarely is it so simple to say that "religion" is the single source of any conflict and often its not even a contributing cause.
The point in this is to help a person think beyond the sound bite and if you can they usually see the complexities of history and discover that a phrase like "More people have died in wars caused by religion..." is simplistic and functionally useless. It's also good for Christians to not be afraid of people making such claims because many who make them are simply regurgitating something they've heard over and over and assume that the repetition of an idea is related to its veracity. A little information beyond the sound bite can sometimes make all the difference.
As for the antagonist who just like to throw things like that in your face to justify whatever it is they're thinking at the moment just remember pearls before swine and such and walk away. That they feel this is some kind of conclusive argument against religion indicates a kind of shallowness of thought that should only be encountered if there is some reasonable hope of growth. If not, you just argue in circles and time and energy go to waste. Let your life do the debating and the Holy Spirit do His work. The harshest critics of our faith often make the best proponents when grace comes calling.
First, in the matter of sheer body count its probable the officially secular and athiestic regimes of the 20th century probably have the honors. The mechanized and systematic killing of the century past simply has no counterpart in human history and resembles something more like an epidemic illness in its gross killing power then the battlefields of even the prior century and certainly less then the supposed "dark ages".
Second, one needs to do some critical thinking and analyze the actual causes of war. There are many cases where religious belief was used by the prevailing authorities as one way to legitimize a particular war, and certainly people who were personally devout have fought in wars and perhaps even seen their involvement as a form of devotion, but not nearly as many cases where religion itself was the actual cause of the conflict. It is probably a fair criticism to say that too often religious groups have lent uncritical support to governments as they embark on wars but even that support does not mean a given war's source is religion, just that religion has allowed itself to become a tool of the larger effort to support a war. A small bit of rational investigation yields the conclusion that war is the sad result of many causes and effects and rarely is it so simple to say that "religion" is the single source of any conflict and often its not even a contributing cause.
The point in this is to help a person think beyond the sound bite and if you can they usually see the complexities of history and discover that a phrase like "More people have died in wars caused by religion..." is simplistic and functionally useless. It's also good for Christians to not be afraid of people making such claims because many who make them are simply regurgitating something they've heard over and over and assume that the repetition of an idea is related to its veracity. A little information beyond the sound bite can sometimes make all the difference.
As for the antagonist who just like to throw things like that in your face to justify whatever it is they're thinking at the moment just remember pearls before swine and such and walk away. That they feel this is some kind of conclusive argument against religion indicates a kind of shallowness of thought that should only be encountered if there is some reasonable hope of growth. If not, you just argue in circles and time and energy go to waste. Let your life do the debating and the Holy Spirit do His work. The harshest critics of our faith often make the best proponents when grace comes calling.
Moses high...?
An Israeli academic suggests that Moses was high on drugs when he saw God.
And, oh by the way, he bases this in part on his own chemically induced experiences. Are you suprised?
And, oh by the way, he bases this in part on his own chemically induced experiences. Are you suprised?
IPod...
I remember when IPods first came out there were articles where famous people were asked about what was on theirs. The music they chose, it was presumed, was a kind of window into their life, the unguarded place behind the public persona. There's a truth to that.
This past evening I was reformatting and loading my own IPod, a 30gb U2 signature edition I purchased because it had a last generation price. A quick look at the playlist shows I have a lot of Mozart, a whole bunch of Orthodox chant, and then anything goes from the Ramones to Janis Joplin, the Allman Brothers, and Nat King Cole. What does that say about me? Maybe I'm a bluesy sort of classical chant guy who every once in a while likes to rip it up with best punk band ever. Who knows?
Some things, though, are certain. I find the playlists on most commercial radio to be garbage, whiney pop singers or rap music, country singers who haven't a clue and millionaire rockers complaining about the darkness in their lives. So I like the ability to pick and choose, to not have to take what they think is best for me and like it. Perhaps its that, and not the songs per se, which reveals the most about me. Somewhere in all the craziness of the world I want at least some little world where I call the shots and control the switches. Maybe that's why IPod s are everywhere.
This past evening I was reformatting and loading my own IPod, a 30gb U2 signature edition I purchased because it had a last generation price. A quick look at the playlist shows I have a lot of Mozart, a whole bunch of Orthodox chant, and then anything goes from the Ramones to Janis Joplin, the Allman Brothers, and Nat King Cole. What does that say about me? Maybe I'm a bluesy sort of classical chant guy who every once in a while likes to rip it up with best punk band ever. Who knows?
Some things, though, are certain. I find the playlists on most commercial radio to be garbage, whiney pop singers or rap music, country singers who haven't a clue and millionaire rockers complaining about the darkness in their lives. So I like the ability to pick and choose, to not have to take what they think is best for me and like it. Perhaps its that, and not the songs per se, which reveals the most about me. Somewhere in all the craziness of the world I want at least some little world where I call the shots and control the switches. Maybe that's why IPod s are everywhere.
3/3/08
March...
March is here and in these northern climes it means that snow is coming, but winter is not forever. The days are just too long and the Earth is inevitably moving its way through space to the end that sunlight with all its affects cannot be denied.
And so it is with the Kingdom of God.
And so it is with the Kingdom of God.
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