The Bird and the World

12 Monday Apr 2021

Posted by CurateMike in All, Life, Prayer

Tags

Anxiety, Frustration, God, Holy spirit, Jesus, Problems, Song

It is Spring and a bird has moved into the large holly bush near our home. The bush is large and lush, the leaves a deep green. The bird is rather ordinary looking; it wears black, white, and shades of gray. Its song is extraordinary. I can not help but smile when I hear it’s music.

One particular day, we left the house to walk our dog. It was a lovely morning: the sky was blue, the sun bright and warm, and the breeze was light. I stopped at the bush and talked to the bird. “Good morning, bird,” I said. The bird looked at me and cocked its head. I continued. “A pandemic is sweeping the planet. What shall we do?” The bird responded with its beautiful song.

Another day I stop at the bush. “Good morning, bird. The politicians are ruining the country. What shall we do?” The bird sang its song.

Each day I asked the bird a question. “Healthcare costs are out of control. What shall we do?” “Our country is at odds with Russia and China. What shall we do?” “There are racist attacks against blacks and Asians.” “There is civil war in Mali.” The bird sings its song. I, with the growing fury of a plodding brute, slash at the bird with broadsword problems. One slash, healthcare. Another, Russia and China. A third, racism. A fourth, civil war. One, healthcare. Two, Russia and China. Three, racism. Four, civil war. Slash, slash, slash, slash. Healthcare, Russia and China, racism, civil war. With each grunt and swing of my broadsword, the bird, with the grace and ease of an expert fencer, parries my attack with its song. Women’s rights, song. Poverty, immigration. Song, song. Refugee camps, healthcare, starvation, terrorism. Song, song, song, song. Slice, parry. Thrust, parry. Slash, parry. Problem, song. Problem, song. Problem, song. National debt, human trafficking, immigration. Song, song, song. Pandemic, politicians, war, racism, debt, starvation. Song, song, song, song, song, song. My strength is fading. Russia and China, women’s rights. Perry and now riposte: song, song, song, song, song, song, song, song, song. Pandemic, I croak. Song, still the song.

From my exhaustion, “The bird does not understand that these are serious problems and that they must be fixed.” I make one more attempt. I explain to the bird, “These problems will destroy us. We need a task force,” I say. “The task force needs funding to study each problem and develop plans. It needs the authority to create departments and to hire people. We need these people to act on the plans and collect data. We must have more laws. We must regain control.”

Song.

“You do not care about the problems of the world, bird.” To my ears, the bird’s once exquisite song has become the noise of uncaring. I no longer smile at its song. “Stupid bird.”

I want the bird to care more about the world, to share in my frustration and anxiety, to join in my cry, “We must do something!” The bird only sings its song.

I want the bird to be more like me.

Jesus wants me to be more like the bird.

See the birds of the sky: they do not sow, or reap, or gather into barns. Your Heavenly Father feeds them! Are you not much more value than they?¹

I want a task force. Jesus says to first seek Him. I want action. Jesus says to love God and my neighbor. I want to control events. Jesus says that He has overcome the world.

Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough troubles of its own.²

God became man and dwelt among us for perhaps 33 years. For the first 30 years, He lived in obscurity. Infant, child, teen, apprentice, adult, carpenter. For three years of His public work He moved slowly and deliberately. No horseback, no chariot, no Facebook friends, or Zoom seminars. No planes, trains, or automobiles. He did not blog. Jesus moved slowly and deliberately. Jesus walked. A person who walks can see the eyes of another. A person who walks can hear the words of another. And at the most profound moment in human history He could not move; nailed to a cross, no action at all.³

The song of the bird is the song of Jesus. What do I hear? An exquisite song or the noise or uncaring? I cry out to Jesus, “You must fix these problems!” He continues to sing. The verses are simple: “Love your God. Love your neighbor.” The chorus repeats: “Prayer, fasting, alms giving”; “Prayer, fasting, alms giving.”

Sing the song of Jesus and the bird.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

1 Matthew 6:26-27; EOB: The Eastern / Greek Orthodox New Testament.

2 Matthew 6:33-34; ibid.

3 Kosuke, Koyama. (1979). Three Mile an Hour God. Orbis Books. 3-7.

With a tip of the hat to the writing styles of Father John Oliver and Ray Bradbury.

How Does My Life Mean?

11 Thursday Feb 2021

Posted by CurateMike in All, Healing, Journey, Life, Self

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Father, God, Holy spirit, meaning of life, Self love, Son, Trinity

Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself.
—Jean-Paul Sartre

I have come that people may have life, and that they may have it abundantly.
—Jesus

I have been obsessed with the meaning of life since I was a kid. Early on, I remember reading obituaries in the local newspaper. I noticed that some during their lives had done extraordinary things, accounting for significant advances in science, math, engineering, the arts. Others had led large companies to unprecedented prosperity, providing many jobs and making a lot of money for themselves and others. Yet others lived more modest lives, working hard and raising families. Still others had hard lives marred by poor decisions, struggle, and loss.

There are culturally accepted ways to assign meaning to life and we label and reward accordingly. The “great” person affects humanity and gets public honor: a star named for them (or a star on Hollywood Boulevard), or a monument dedicated to them, or a statue built in their honor, or a street or park named after them An “expert” is widely recognized in their field of expertise and have a wall or a shelf in their home filled with their achievement awards. The “average Jane or Joe” lives a generally nondescript life, invisible to all but those closest to them. About another life we use the word “wasted” or “shameful,” particularly when addiction is involved. If one dies young, then we say their life was “tragically cut short” presumable lamenting that they did not have time to do the things that would have given their life greater meaning.

But even the highest reward for a meaningful life can be fleeting. We have a short collective memory. Have you ever stopped at a statue of a person and wondered who the person was and what they did to have a statue erected for them? I think these questions can be asked of any memorial we come across. I try to stop and read the usual plaque, then say something like, “Hmmmm, that’s interesting” before moving on.

My mom and dad were quite prominent people in our small, midwestern-America town. My dad was mayor for awhile, and when he died there was quite a celebration of his life and accomplishments; the town even named a street after him. Now, thirty years later, I’m sure most people driving down his street wonder who he was. Honestly, if anyone even thinks of him at all it is probably only to wish his street had a shorter name. And I’m sure that now only us, his kids, could find his, or my mom’s, grave site at the local cemetery.

I, too, have accomplished things in my life and have had my own achievement awards; however, even in the midst of the work I always had that small voice chiding me, “One day,” it would say, “this accomplishment will just be a line in your own obituary that will soon be forgotten.”

I am very aware that the day I die my toys and precious belongings will become just troublesome stuff for my kid to dispose of. In two generations, likely no one will know where I am buried. The best I can hope for is that I appear in some future progeny’s web search on an “ancestor” archive.

On my deathbed, if I am able to reflect back on my life, what is it that will have given it meaning? Will I be graded on a scale based on things that can measured, such as philanthropy or adventure or personal achievement? If so, against whose scale will I be judged? And who will grade me? Family? Friends? Society? If no one ultimately remembers me, then why should I really care how I am graded?

So, how does life mean? Wait! That is too big a question. What I really want to know is this: How does my life mean?

This I know: God created humankind—me—to participate in His very life, to be “one” with him and with other Christians. By His graciousness I am invited to become like He is by nature. Therefore, my life’s meaning doesn’t come from a collection of material things or accomplishments but by my movement into relationship with Him. My life begins to have meaning when I am awakened to the Beauty of God and I begin to “come out of myself and move toward Him,” to “run toward God without any regard for myself” (Patitsas)…like lovers do. Here is one way the Bible describes it:

My beloved is a shining and fiery light, Chosen from countless thousands. His head is like refined gold; His locks of hair are shiny and black, Like a raven’s feathers. His eyes are like those of doves Sitting by pools of water, Having eyes bathed in milk and fitly set. His cheeks are like bowls of spices Pouring forth perfumes. His lips are lilies dripping choice myrrh. His hands are like elaborate gold Set with precious stones. (Song of Songs, The Bible)

Isn’t that great imagery! Too often we are hit over the head with the threat of an angry God who is judging our every action and keeping score. That is not really true. It is much more like the paragraph, above. Elsewhere in the Bible it says that God is singing over us. Imagine that…God singing over me, the mess that I am.

To run toward God I have to try to get over myself, specifically to get over my love of myself, so that I might love Him. That is what it means to participate in God’s life.

In my human relationships I know that loving another is never easy for me. I don’t really want to put you first, at least not for very long. Setting aside my desires, my self-love, is often a sacrifice for me, and all too often it is too much of a sacrifice, so I don’t do it. If I’m honest with you, all the evidence in my life points to the fact that I love myself way too much, so that I want any relationship I’m in—with you or with God—to be on my terms.

But, love does require sacrifice. It all sounds so counter-cultural, doesn’t it. And it is, but this is what we were made for: to be in a loving relationship with God and others.

There’s hope for me, mired as I am in self love! Here is the little secret of Christianity that I have discovered: God knows I’ll never do “relationship” very well. Because of how much I want what I want, I’ll spend my life struggling to love you and God more than I love myself. Mostly I will fail at it. And then with God’s help I will get up and try again. And I will fail. And I will try again. And I will fail. And I will try again. For all of my life. With every fall I try to cry out to God Who helps me to get up again. Any successes I have will be entirely God’s doing.

But—and this is the final answer to my question—the only thing that gives my life meaning, eternal meaning, is whether I stayed in the struggle to try and love God and you more than I love myself. There are no monuments or achievement awards given for a life lived like this. There is only eternal life with God…life’s ultimate meaning.

And this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.
—Jesus

Oh, and that little word, “know” means the knowing God in the same way found only in the most intimate of relationship between lovers. Me knowing God (God already knows me)—it is both the meaning and reward of my life.

So, now when I read an obituary I appreciate the person’s accomplishments, but I also wonder how their life meant to them and to God, and I pray for them as I, too, struggle to live my life as one filled with eternal meaning.

Choosing Sides

13 Wednesday Jan 2021

Posted by CurateMike in All, Journey, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

choice, choose, Father, God, Holy spirit, Son, spiritual battle, Trinity

In a recent blog, Father Stephen Freeman described faith as loyalty, perhaps as a simple as choosing sides. I found that to be a wonderful pragmatic definition of faith, one that tied in so nicely with my other, recent reading and writing.

In my own previous musing on the reality of the spiritual battle between good and evil, I mentioned that we must choose a side in the battle. As I continue to contemplate the true nature of reality, I am convinced that there is no middle ground available for us, no neutral territory for us to inhabit. One may claim to be agnostic; however, that, too, is to choose a side. There is only a binary choice available to us.

How can this be?

To be human is to be made for worship. It is how we were created. Throughout history, humans have worshipped many things. We have and continue to worship a god or gods or other people. We can worship immaterial things, such as knowledge, feelings, security, science, and religion. We can worship money. We can worship any number of material things: clothes, cars, hobbies, boats, jewelry, books, etc. (this could be a very long list!).

What does it mean to worship something?

Our common understanding of worship someone or some thing means that we offer a sacrifice to that which we worship. Historically, sacrifices have consisted of such things as blood—human or animal—crops, prepared food or drink, jewels, and money. Over time, we humans have offered as a sacrifice anything we consider precious—that which we treasure most—to some one or some thing we have worshipped.

As modern humans, we typically no longer think in this way. We believe that worship and sacrifice are for primitive people, that we are well beyond those silly, unscientific things. Yet, to us modern people, the most precious thing we have is our time and our money. To what, then, do we offer our time and money? Just look at your calendar or your checkbook or your screen time (phone, tablet, computer, or television). Find where you spend your time and money and you will know who or what it is that you worship.

This is not an original thought from me. Jesus said it first: “Where your treasure is, there is your heart.”

If, then, to be human is to be a worshiping being, then so also to be human is to choose that which we will worship. And, choosing who or what we worship constitutes choosing sides in the battle. So, find where you put what you treasure and you will find who or what side you have chosen by knowing who or what you worship.

Why choose? Isn’t it enough to just do good things and to be kind to others?

St Gregory Palamas said, “If God does not act in us everything done by us is sin.” To our modern ears, that sounds like such a harsh, judgmental statement. To use the modern language, Palamas’ statement sounds shaming and cancelling. But that’s only because Christianity, in many circles, has become a moral religion aimed at appeasing a wrathful God rather than an ongoing, relational existence with a loving God. It is fashionable to think that if I “do good” or am generally a “good person” (and how we define “good” is a subject for another blog), then God will not be mad at me and I will go to heaven or obtain whatever other reward I may imagine.

But, as someone said, Jesus didn’t come to make bad people good. He came to make dead people alive. Sin is rightly defined as our turning away from God, turning toward death rather than life. Sin—death—is our broken relationship with God, not the bad deed.

Here is a better image of reality. We are in a war zone, caught between two warring factions: God and His angels vs. the fallen angels (demons). Like when the Allied forces began marching across Europe in WWII, God is advancing on His enemies. God’s victory in the spiritual war is inevitable; however, also like WWII, the battles will continue to the very end. And here is a most important point. We, humankind, are not God’s enemies. Et me say that again. Humankind are not Enemies of God. We are caught in the crossfire and God is trying to save us. We have been enslaved by the enemy and God offers all of us the path to freedom. The choice is ours. Each of us can choose either to turn to God or to remain with God’s enemy.

The decision to choose God brings the battle to us. More literally, it ignites the battle within us. The sin that has infected us and is within us is a powerful enemy. The Apostle, St Paul, admits of his own, ongoing struggle against sin: “..the good that I want to do, I do not do; but the evil I want not to do, that I practice.” Choosing God is not a one-time decision, even for a saint like Paul. We choose God day-by-day, sometimes moment-by-moment. The great St Anthony once said, “Each day I arise from bed and say to myself, ‘Today I begin again’.”

So, what does it look like to choose God moment-by-moment?

Below are 55 practical ways to choose the Christian God in everyday life; they are ways we can offer our worship to Him. Before you read them, remember two things. First, this is not a “to do” list. Recall Palamas’ words, above…without God, doing all of these things is still sin because Christianity is primarily about relationship. Second, Christianity is not about becoming a “better” human. It is about turning to God and joining in His life. These 55 things are simply things that help us to join in with God’s life. But here’s the catch: you will fail at them. Often. In this life you can actually expect very little “improvement” in yourself. So, when you fail, turn back to God, confess your failure, ask Him for forgiveness, then get back in the battle.

Choose God. You are not alone in the battle.

55 Maxims for Christian Living
Father Thomas Hopko

Be always with Christ.
Pray as you can, not as you want.
Have a keepable rule of prayer that you do by discipline.
Say the Lord’s Prayer several times a day.
Have a short prayer that you constantly repeat when your mind is not occupied with other things.
Make some prostrations when you pray.
Eat good foods in moderation.
Keep the Church’s fasting rules.
Spend some time in silence every day.
Do acts of mercy in secret.
Go to liturgical church services regularly.
Go to confession and communion regularly.
Do not engage intrusive thoughts and feelings. Cut them off at the start.
Reveal all your thoughts and feelings regularly to a trusted person.
Read the scriptures regularly.
Read good books a little at a time.
Cultivate communion with the saints.
Be an ordinary person.
Be polite with everyone.
Maintain cleanliness and order in your home.
Have a healthy, wholesome hobby.
Exercise regularly.
Live a day, and a part of a day, at a time.
Be totally honest, first of all, with yourself.
Be faithful in little things.
Do your work, and then forget it.
Do the most difficult and painful things first.
Face reality.
Be grateful in all things.
Be cheerful.
Be simple, hidden, quiet and small.
Never bring attention to yourself.
Listen when people talk to you.
Be awake and be attentive.
Think and talk about things no more than necessary.
When we speak, speak simply, clearly, firmly and directly.
Flee imagination, analysis, figuring things out.
Flee carnal, sexual things at their first appearance.
Don’t complain, mumble, murmur or whine.
Don’t compare yourself with anyone.
Don’t seek or expect praise or pity from anyone.
Don’t judge anyone for anything.
Don’t try to convince anyone of anything.
Don’t defend or justify yourself.
Be defined and bound by God alone.
Accept criticism gratefully but test it critically.
Give advice to others only when asked or obligated to do so.
Do nothing for anyone that they can and should do for themselves.
Have a daily schedule of activities, avoiding whim and caprice.
Be merciful with yourself and with others.
Have no expectations except to be fiercely tempted to your last breath.
Focus exclusively on God and light, not on sin and darkness.
Endure the trial of yourself and your own faults and sins peacefully, serenely, because you know that God’s mercy is greater than your wretchedness.
When we fall, get up immediately and start over.
Get help when you need it, without fear and without shame.

Beauty

10 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by CurateMike in All, Healing, Life, Uncategorized

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Tags

Art, Beauty, Christ, God, Holy Spiorit, Love, Modern Art, virtues

Brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.
—St Paul, Philippians 4:8

The concept of beauty has been on my mind for quite awhile. Beauty is of one of the three classical virtues, the others being Goodness and Truth. Dr. Timothy G. Patitsas, in his new book, The Ethics of Beauty, advocates that we must first look to Beauty (rather than Goodness or Truth) to fill us with life. Beauty is life-giving.

Patitsas argues from “St Dionysius the Areopagite and the Fathers that followed him” that as “the beautiful appearing of God” hovered over the deep (Genesis 1:1-2), non-being became inflamed with love of God’s beauty and willingly left its non-being, becoming “gloriously alive.” (Pg 45) Patitsas goes on to argue that if we first get caught up in the intellectual pursuit of Goodness and Truth without first allowing ourselves to fall in love with God’s Beauty, we will become “imprisoned in the self.”

My thinking on Beauty has intersected with my thinking about Luck, Life, and God (my previous post). In that post, I said I have come to believe that while God does not cause the tragic events in our lives, He does permit them and He meets us in them. If being in love with beauty draws us toward life and away from non-being, then how can I learn to not just see the tragedy and become cynical about life and God? How can I learn to see beyond the ugly and find Beauty—God—in the midst of tragedy?

Certainly I can find beauty in nature. Recall a sunset that has been like a fire setting the sky ablaze. We know the physics: nuclear fission combines hydrogen atoms into helium; the Earth’s atmosphere filters out the blue spectrum; the Earth orbits the sun and turns on its axis. However, knowing these rational things about the sunset are not what stops our breath and fill us with wonder and awe; rather, the beauty of the sunset transcends the natural and reveals to us something more, something unseen.

The same thing can occur in art. Here is a photograph of Michelangelo’s masterpiece, “Pieta.” It depicts the dead Jesus laying across the lap of His mother, Mary. Regardless of your beliefs, the sight of a dead child in the arms of the mother is as a tragic a sight as there can be. As a man, I cannot grasp the depth of the pain that a mother would experience.

And yet, this work is considered to be one of the great works of art. Through it, we witness a great tragedy while at the same time experiencing its overwhelming beauty. How can this be?

The tragedy of the scene is manifold. For the Christian, we see God dead at our hands. All of us, Christian or not, see a man in his early 30s, dead, a life cut short. We also see the grieving mother. While we may not have experienced the loss of a child, likely each of us knows the pain of a life cut short; or, we have experienced loss due to death. Most know what is like to feel the pain and emptiness when someone we love dies: the extraordinary pain of grief that feels as though it is crushing the very life out of us as we struggle simply to take our next breath. Viewing this statue, we relive our own pain as memories flood in; we are filled with empathy for Mary.

And, we see more. In the tragedy of Jesus’ death and Mary’s loss we also see the very essence of what makes us human: love. Without love there is no grief. Mother Mary’s pain is a window into the depth of love. Too, without love, there is no self-sacrifice. Jesus willingly gave up His life for us, that we might be saved from death. Mary would have willingly traded places with her Son. “There is no greater love than to give your life for another,” said Jesus.

Michelangelo speaks to us in the universal language of life, pain, joy, suffering, and death. In this work he shows us the beauty of love is its rawest form. It is as though his work is a portal through which we can see through the tragedy and glimpse true reality beyond this world. And isn’t that the function of true art, whether sculpture, painting, literature, poetry, music…? True art has the power to transform both the tragic and the ordinary into the extraordinary, to give us a glimpse into true reality; it lifts the veil separating the natural from the rest of reality. When art does this, when it succeeds in opening the portal to reveal all of true reality, then it is truly beautiful.

All art is not created equal. Contrast Michelangelo’s work with this photograph of Salvador Dali’s painting of Jesus’ crucifixion (“Corpus Hypercubus”). That is Dali’s wife looking on. Francis Schaefer (Art and the Bible) argues that modern artists no longer use a language common to us all; therefore, he says, without help we cannot know what the artist is trying to say to us. I find this to be true of Dali’s work. I view it and I experience a sense of “wow” at the artwork itself, but I do not experience awe in the depths of my soul that I feel when seeing Michelangelo’s statue.

And this is the problem with art that “wows” us. So much of modern art, for me, either speaks a language I don’t understand without explanation, or seeks to shock me with the tragedy and absurdity of life. “Wow” is like a drug; we constantly need more. It seems like so much of modern art is left to try become increasingly abstract or shocking to satisfy our desire for more “wow.” Too often it is meant to inspire in the viewer anger, cynicism, or despair. Rarely does modern art inspire awe by revealing the beauty often hidden in reality.

For 2000 years the Christian Church has been filled with icons. These icons are not intended to be photo realistic depictions of people or historical events. Icons are a way we can see through the portal and experience God’s Kingdom now. In worship, surrounded by icons, we enter into the reality of the Kingdom of God with Jesus, the angels, and all the saints praying for us and awaiting us. We know we are worshiping God with all of creation. Icons are always beautiful.

What about our day-to-day life?

We each know that life is difficult and it is relentless. Life is too often filled with seemingly senseless tragedy, ours or that of others. I began this blog with Patitsas’ (The Ethics of Beauty) claim that we must find transformative beauty to endure tragedy around us or heal from tragedy that has happened to us. Recall too, above, that St Dionysius said creation willingly left its non-being for being when encountering the love of God, the ultimate Beauty.

For us, we can find beauty in nature and in true art. And, perhaps most importantly we can find it in another place.

Jesus said that the Kingdom of God is within us. Each human, is made in the image of God; therefore, each of us has the potential to be an icon of Jesus, the God-man. When you weep with me in my suffering, laugh with me in my happiness, rejoice with me in my joy, smile at me, offer a kind word, help me when I need help…when you do these things for me, in you I see the Beauty of Christ; in your beauty I see beyond the natural, survival-of-the-fittest world and experience through you the Beauty of Christ’s selflessness toward all of humanity. Through you I experience the Kingdom of God. If I am able to do these things for you, then you, too, can experience God’s Beauty and Kingdom in this life.

The gift of Christ’s Beauty is our greatest gift to each other; this is why we are to told by God to love our neighbor. Through our giving and receiving love we each offer the other the opportunity to gaze upon the Beauty of God and to experience His Kingdom; we remind each other of our moment-by-moment choice to willingly move away from the non-being of our self-centeredness and toward the healing of our soul and body and have fullness of life in the love of God.

St Paul exhorts us to always strive toward Beauty:

I consider [the things I have obtained as] garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him…Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
—Philippian’s 3:8-9, 12-14

Let’s choose Beauty. Choose love. Choose life.

______________________________________________________________________

The Ethics of Beauty—Timothy Patitsas

“Why Beauty Matters”—Roger Scruton

Naturally—Rick Mylander’s reflections on creation and Christian spirituality

Life, Luck, and God

29 Thursday Oct 2020

Posted by CurateMike in All, Culture, Death, Humankind

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Death, Father, God, Holy spirit, Life, salvation, Son, Tragedy, Trinity

I read a novel recently in which one of the characters, a man in his twenties, was rightly imprisoned for sexually abusing his thirteen year old sister. Taking revenge, he used his prison connections and his wealth to have his sister kidnapped, drugged, and sold into sexual slavery where she died after a few years.

This was troubling to me because it caused me to think about the seemingly lucky or unlucky circumstances of our lives. There are real-life children sold into sexual slavery. Some people have lost family and homes to war. Natural disasters disrupt lives and cause widespread death and destruction. Children are born with mental and physical disabilities. Random accidents maim and take lives. Some people are born into poverty, others into great health and wealth.

Life certainly doesn’t seem fair. So, I find myself wondering what should I, as a Christian, think about the role of luck and God in my life.

Luck, in its most common definition, is the description we use for the things that happen to us that seem to be beyond our control. Philosophers and ethicists speak about the concept of luck. There is no agreement among them whether luck exists, and if it does, to what degree are we each accountable for the events of our lives.

Authors such as scholar C.S. Lewis and sociologist Max Weber have written about how the modern world has become “disenchanted.” In the ancient world there was once room for “enchantment”: people believed in gods, spirits, demons, fairies, elves, dragons, and such. When seemingly unexplainable things happened around people and to people, they created explanations for the mysteries they experienced. For example, if you make one of the god’s mad and you may experience a fire or an earthquake. Over the centuries, Christianity vanquished “the gods” and now modern scientism has vanquished the Christian God. So, in our modern world there is now little room for an enchanted world in the minds of “serious” people; they exclude the possibility of mysterious things “beyond the veil” of the natural world, including God, angels, and miracles.

It seems to me, then, in a disenchanted world, luck is all we have to account for disparities and tragedies of life: Born into or encounter bad things in life? Bad luck. Born as a “healthy, well adjusted, hard working” person and into a good life? Good luck. The examples of good and bad “luck” are manifold as there are lives.

However, the Christian knows that all of reality is indeed enchanted: there is a God, angels, demons, and the souls of the departed. So, what about the role of God, luck, and my own free will in my life?

Christians usually avoid reliance on luck. To explain the events around us, we generally appeal to God’s plan (providence), that usually say that everything comes from God. Tragedies can occur, we may say, as punishment for the wicked. Or, sometimes we offer that suffering is given to us because it is good for our soul. We may appeal to God’s love by saying that God wanted a dead loved one more than the family did. Other times we may appeal to God’s predestination, that these are the events God has for our lives. We may claim to know the intent of God, that this world is the best He could do given our free will. We may try to excuse God, claiming that, while He knows how it will end, He doesn’t know how we will get there, again, due to our free will. Unfortunately, each of these explanations in some way holds God responsible for the tragedy.

God’s plan seems simple: He created humans to enter into a union with Him, for us to participate in His life. Here is what is in store for those who chose God:

Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.
—1Corinthians 2:9

It does seem that God’s plan requires that we have free will to choose Him, and His plan for us is so extraordinary that apparently He is willing to risk that we choose otherwise and bring about terrible tragedy and the fall of the cosmos itself.

The hard thing for us is the accepting the paradox that God does have a plan that will not be thwarted and that we do have free will to act. The problem for us is that exactly how it works itself out in our lives is a mystery. And herein is an important point: with our western mindset, we want to turn this into a problem we can solve. We modern people do not like mysteries because they take away our control. You see, a problem implies a solution that brings the problem under our control. Mysteries, however, cannot be brought under our control; rather, they must simply be inhabited. Said differently, an enchanted world contains mystery.

While God’s plan mixed with our free will is a mystery, we can know some things about it.

First, God doesn’t need us at all. Nor does He need evil and tragedy to bring about His plan. Unfortunately, the first humans, Adam and Eve, exercised their free will poorly; we and all of creations now live in the aftermath of that first decision. And, through our own actions, we each, too, often reaffirm that fateful decision by also choosing other than God and turning toward the Prince of this world. The consequences of our choices is death: the continued sin perpetuated by humans and the natural disasters evident in the world.

Because of our free will, not all events in our lives is willed by God: we make choices and all of the cosmos is fallen, which include the weather, earthquakes, fires, etc. While it may give us some comfort to believe that God wills all things, the cost of that belief is that we must then also believe God wills all of the tragedy around us from the death of a child to the slaughter of millions.

So, while God does permit good and bad to occur as a result of our free will choices, this does not mean that He simply sits back and watches as history unfolds. The Christian God is not the god of life and death we see in the natural world; rather, He is the God of love and life found only in true reality, the enchanted world of all of creation. As such, God does not leave us alone to meaninglessly suffer and death in this natural world, He acts always for our salvation. Jesus, the innocent God-man, died to defeat the death that enslaves us and to transform the otherwise meaningless suffering and death of those who choose to turn to Him. Christ on the cross is the ultimate act of love and life: His death also was not a necessary part of God’s plan; rather, it was a completely free, self-less act of love to save us from our free will choice to bind ourselves and the world to someone other than God—to Satan.

In Jesus’ own words, He came—

To preach the gospel to the poor;
[God the Father] has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty those who are oppressed.
—Luke 4:18

Perhaps it comes down to this. While we can argue about the role of God’s plan, our free will, and luck, God has created humankind and willed that we freely choose to be in a loving relationship with Him. He permits us to choose poorly and Christ has given His life to redeem that choice. God has something extraordinary in store for us that was worth the risk of the fall of all creation and the horrific tragedies around us. That brings us to another choice: either we embrace that reality or we decide we cannot turn to that God because we believe that certainly there is a better way to run the universe.

Christians need not feel we must defend God or justify His actions in tragedy. The radical good news of Christianity is that death is not something to be explained by religion; rather, it is an enemy that has been defeated by Christ. So, when we look into the lifeless eyes of “the old, the young, the needy, the orphans and the widows, and on all that are in sickness and sorrow, in distress and affliction, in oppression and captivity, in prison and confinement,” or even the dead, we should not see “bad luck” or God’s hand; rather, we must see only the defeated enemy. Then we must turn our minds and hearts toward God, the God of salvation Who has rescued us from death and Who redeems our suffering and, giving Him thanks, offer to others the love Christ has first shown us.

I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that both you and your descendants may live…
—Moses (Deuteronomy 30:19)

For more on this, I recommend The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami? by David Bentley Hart.

I Am Number One

30 Sunday Aug 2020

Posted by CurateMike in All, Journey, Prayer

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Tags

Christ, God, Holy spirit, Humility, Jesus, Jesus prayer, Sin, sinner, Trinity

This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.
—Apostle Paul in a letter to St Timothy (1Timothy 1:15)

I believe, O Lord, and I confess that You are truly the Christ, the Son of the living God, who came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.
—From a Christian (Eastern) Orthodox Pre-Communion Prayer

Prior to receiving communion, many Christians pray the pre-communion prayer, above, in which each pray-er claims to be “the chief of all sinners.” In other words, as I pray this prayer, I claim that “I am the number one sinner of all time.” That is saying a lot; it is quite a claim for one’s self.

Now, I can certainly say this prayer with a prideful heart and with false humility with the intent of garnering either praise from you for my remarkable piety (“Wow, you really are a very religious person!”), or to seek a compliment from you (“Awww, you really are a great person; don’t be so hard on yourself.”)

Presume for a moment, however, that I mean it sincerely, “I am the chief of all sinners.” Can that really be true? Let’s make a simple comparison. Consider the following dictators and the deaths attributed to them and their respective regimes:

Mao Zedong (China): 31 million deaths
Adolf Hitler (Nazi Germany): 19 million deaths
Joseph Stalin (Russia): 9 million deaths

Does that seem an unfair comparison? Certainly I’m not that bad. Then how about an average mass murderer who might only kill tens of people. Am I really a worse sinner than that?

What about my friend who cheats on his taxes? Am I worse than that?

At some point, as I compare my sins to the sins of others, likely I can find a place to rank myself among them, which means that I’m not really the chief of sinners; maybe I’m just an average sinner, no better or worse than most people I know.

Here’s another story from the Bible, a story Jesus tells of two men: one a religious leader and the other a hated tax collector (Luke 18:9-14). The tax collector, realizing how sinful he is, won’t even look upwards to Heaven; rather, he cries out to God for mercy. Nearby, the religious man thanks God that he is not as bad as those robbers and tax collectors because he does many good, religious things (praying, fasting, giving money, etc.). Which man does Jesus praise? The tax collector.

So, it strikes me that if I try to rank myself—I’m not as bad as Hitler but not as good as Mother Teresa—I am like the religious man in the story, above, the man that Jesus condemns.

Jesus wants me to be like the tax collector…so, in that light, what does it mean for me to say, “I’m the chief of all sinners”? It means just that: I’m the worst of the lot…I’m the worst sinner of all humankind, past, present, and future.

This doesn’t mean I’m a worse person than everyone else; no, we are all created equal and in the image of God. However, I am the worse sinner of all.

Yes, God forgives sins for those who repent of them. Not only does He forgive, but He removes our sins from us “as far as the East is from the West” (Psalm 103:12). So, for me to be the worst sinner must also mean I am the least repentant, which puts my eternal salvation in danger.

Here is another story. Many years ago (~AD250-350) there lived a man who gave away his fortune to live in the desert of Egypt to seek God. Today, we know him as St. Anthony. One day, after living in the desert for many years, Anthony was in prayer when he heard a voice:
“Anthony! You have still not achieved the worth of the leather tanner who lives in Alexandria.” The next morning Anthony got himself to Alexandria and went to the leather tanner pointed out to him and said: “Tell me of your deeds, because I came here from the desert for this reason.” The leather tanner was greatly surprised at the saint’s request and answered him humbly: “I do not know about me, whether I did anything good. For this reason I get up early from bed, and rather than leaving for work, I say to myself: all the inhabitants of this city, from the greatest to the least, will enter the Kingdom of God for their virtuous deeds, but I alone will go unto eternal tortures for my sins. And these words I repeat in my heart before I go to sleep.” Upon hearing this, Anthony answered: “Truly, my son, you, a skilled craftsman sitting quietly in his home, have gained the Kingdom of God; but I, although I have spent my whole life in the desert, yet I have not gained spiritual wisdom, I have not reached the level of consciousness that you express with your words.”

From this story, not only am I the chief of all sinners, but I should believe that all of you will enter the Kingdom of God and only I will not because of my poor repentance. Or, in the words of other saints over the centuries, “All will be saved, only I will be lost.”

In a previous blog I wrote of our contemplating the Beauty of God. So, for me to say, “All will be saved, only I will be lost” is not to engage in unhealthy, self condemnation; rather, it is the natural result of seeing my own wretchedness in the light of God’s perfect Beauty. It is me recognizing that I have nothing to commend in and of myself. Therefore, I cannot see your sins, I cannot judge you because I become so aware of my own sin. I am the worst of all sinners. I can’t justify my thoughts or my behavior by comparing myself to you or anyone else because there is no one worse than me.

Let me be as practical as I can. It doesn’t matter what is the color of your skin. It doesn’t matter who or what you call your god. It doesn’t matter whether you are pro-life or pro-choice, whether you are Democrat, Republican, or something else. It doesn’t matter whether you are straight or one or more of the LGBTQ+ letters. It doesn’t matter whether you are in prison for a small crime or a heinous crime. It doesn’t matter your addiction of choice. It doesn’t matter how you treated your significant other or your kids or your friends today. It does’t matter what you are thinking of doing tomorrow. I am a worse sinner than you. I am THE worst sinner of all.

What do I do with this realization? How do I cope with this understanding of myself?

Godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted; but the sorrow of the world produces death.
—St. Paul the Apostle; 2Corinthians 7:10

St. Porphyrious tells me I can respond to this realization in one of two ways. First, I can let it drive me into despondency. I can beat myself up for every failure to live up to God’s standard. I can become so self-critical that I become useless; worse, joyless. This is unhealthy shame. It is “worldly sorrow” (2Corinthians 7:10) and is from Satan. The second, better response is from God. It drives me to prayer and to deeper, continual repentance and confession. I don’t wallow in my sinful act, nor do I relive it; rather, I confess it, repent of it, and move past it trusting in God’s forgiveness (which means I must forgive myself!). This is healthy shame; it brings humility. It is the “Godly sorrow” (2Corinthians 7:10) which brings me to repentance and gives me the joy of Jesus. It drives me onward and upward toward God and His beauty.

Returning to St. Paul the Apostle and his claim to be the chief of all sinners. In another letter he goes on to say:
I do not count myself as have attained Jesus’ perfection; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:13-14).

This is the better way to which God exhorts us. By becoming our own harshest accusers, there is no more Satan can do to us. I accuse myself before God before Satan can. As the realization of me being the “chief of sinners” becomes part of who I am, as it was with St Paul and the leather tanner, above, I trust I will take on the humility of Christ. I trust I will begin to love and serve others who are my “betters.” I trust I will more readily cry out to God for His mercy, as did the tax collector and the leather tanner, which is the best prayer of all.

Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
–The ancient “Jesus Prayer”

From Orthodox Metropolitan Hilarion:
[This is] the one perspective by which the Christian is allowed to think of universal salvation [that all will go to Heaven]: “all will be saved, only I will perish.” It flows from the inner spiritual experience of a [person] deeply conscious of [one’s] sinfulness and brought to repentance for [one’s] own sins and imperfection. Such repentance necessarily includes thoughts of eternal torments, not for others, but for oneself, as well as the hope for salvation, not for oneself, but for everyone else.

It is our transformation into Christlikeness and His humility through the power of Holy Spirit and the Church that gives witness to our faith.

Questions for God (and it is my right to have answers)

31 Friday Jul 2020

Posted by CurateMike in All, Healing, Journey

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Answers, God, Healing, Holy spirit, Jesus, Questions, Trauma

It seems as though the virus has given rise to many new questions. So, I’ve been thinking a lot about questions…and answers.

QuoteMaster.org

There are new, virus-related questions, of course: When can we get back to normal life? Will a vaccine be forthcoming? Are masks effective? What will life be like post pandemic? Somebody answer me!

Sometimes the questions are more urgent: How will I pay my rent? Where will my next meal come from? When can I visit my hospitalized loved one? Somebody answer me!

And then there are really big questions, such as: What does it mean to be human? Why am I here? How can there be a good God who would allow such worldly horror? Somebody answer me!

About my own questions, I remember saying years ago, When I get to Heaven I will have a lot of questions for God. I said it with humor, but if I am honest I had the sincere expectation that God would submit to my demand once I stood face-to-face with him…and what I really meant was, God, you’ve got some explaining to do, and I‘m willing to listen to Your side before I judge You.

About questioning God, the curious thing for me is this: there is a written, historical record of quite a number of people who actually got to ask questions of God! In the biblical Gospel accounts (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John) of Jesus, who is the God-man, when He walked the earth, people did ask Him questions, and quite a lot of them according to Martin B. Copenhaver (Jesus is the Question). During three-year period covered in the Gospels, the four writers record that people asked Jesus 183 questions. He answered only 3. ONLY 3! Worse yet, Jesus asked the people 307 questions.

Yikes!…the thought of being questioned by God brings back my old “test anxiety” in a big way. Seriously, though, the Gospel accounts seem to squash my idea of putting my most pressing questions to God and expecting answers.

Yet, does that mean I should have no questions for God? Am I supposed to just have some sort of mindless “faith” in Him, afraid to ask anything for fear that He will turn the tables on me?

Here is a story. In the Bible’s Old Testament, there was a wealthy family man named Job (rhymes with “robe”). He had a wife, ten kids, and owned a very large ranch with thousands of head of livestock. And, he was one of God’s favorite people. In a single, tragic day rustlers stole all of his livestock and killed many of his herdsmen, and then a wind storm collapsed the house of one of his children killing all ten of them. If that weren’t enough, Job himself was infected with painful boils. In the days and weeks that followed, and as the shock of his loss began to wear off, Job had questions for God. In page after page of the story, Job defends himself from friends who accuse him of having offended God and thus reaping due punishment. Job continued to claim his innocence and began to insist in asking why this had happened to him.

Eventually, God appears before Job, but not to defend Himself from or explain Himself to Job. You see, before Job can even open his mouth with his first question, God says, I will question you and you shall answer Me. Then, like machine gun fire, God rattles off 67 questions for Job. Questions like:

Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know. Or who stretched the line upon it? To what were its foundations fastened, Or who laid its cornerstone, When the stars were made And all My angels praised Me in a loud voice?

On it goes. Questions interspersed with sarcasm and facts. I image Job cowering before God like Dorothy before the Wizard of Oz.

When God stops talking, Job has a sudden realization…I regard myself as dust and ashes, he says to God, please teach me. Job’s questions are gone and he is beginning to be healed of his trauma.

But, how can he have such a rapid change of heart after enduring such trauma? How could 67 questions bring that about?

Honestly, for a long while Job’s response struck me as remarkable to the point of incredulity. Had God simply responded to my questions with 67 of His own, I would have felt like I had been slapped down by a Bully. My questions would metastasize into deep resentment toward or even hatred of God. After all, I would silently rage, I didn’t ask to be born! I didn’t ask for any of this! I am tired of the unending battle against myself! I am tired of living in this world!

Humanity’s questions are manifold and legitimate, they echo in the ears of my soul: Why was I…born into slavery, thrust into the horror of war, abused as a child, abused as a woman, subjected to repressive discrimination, falsely accused,? Why did I…lose a child, lose a spouse, get this disease, have my dreams dashed, lose my life savings, become addicted, endure mental illness, lose my job, lose my home? Why am I…so lonely, such a misfit, bullied, too different, trapped in a bad marriage, trapped in a dead-end job?

More questions: Why did you bring me into this world, God?! If you are everywhere and are all knowing, all powerful, and all loving, then why don’t you rescue me and fix this stupid world and those in it?!

Whether screaming, in laughter, in normal conversation tones, or in whispered weariness I have asked my own questions of God.

Why, God? It is the ultimate question. I have come to know it is also a prayer.

So, how do I get to the point of beginning the healing that Job experienced?

The late Catholic priest and writer Henry Nouwen (Spiritual Formation: Wisdom for the Long Walk of Faith) says this of our questions for God:

More often, as our questions and issues are tested and mature in [our] solitude [with God], the questions simply dissolve…God does not solve [all] our problems or answer all our questions, but [he] leads us closer to the mystery of our own existence where all questions cease.

So, is that it? Should I expect my questions to simply dissolve away with time and maturity as Nouwen suggests? What about the hardship or trauma I may have experienced in this life that caused the questions…will that also simply dissolve, too? No, something else must have happened to Job in his encounter with God to find the kind of contentment he confesses.

Back to Job’s story. After God ends the questioning, Job says:

I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You.

Job says he had heard of God. That does not help me. Who among us hasn’t heard of God. But, what was different here is that Job also saw God. Christian Orthodox tradition says that Job saw Christ Jesus. Did he see the transfigured Jesus whose face shone like the sun? Or did he see the crucified Jesus hanging on the cross bearing Job’s pain and sin and the sin and pain of the world? Whichever Jesus Job saw…God revealed Himself in the way Job needed to see so his questions would dissolve and he would began to be healed from the trauma.

In their encounter, God certainly gave Job truth: 67 questions and many statements of truth of who He is as God. But, it wasn’t the hearing truth—God beating him about the head and shoulders with questions sarcasm—that dissolved Job’s questions and began his healing; rather, it was Job seeing the Beauty of God (Jesus) that helped him. Truth by itself is like a sword that cuts us apart; only seeing Beauty—seeing God—can start us on the path of healing (Timothy G. Patatsis, The Ethics of Beauty). Falling in love with God then becomes the path along which we journey to be healed.

How do we see God like Job did? He is all around us. He may reveal Himself in a direct vision as He did with Job, the apostle Paul, and many, many others. He may be seen as the Artist while sitting on that mountain top overlooking a scene that is too breathtaking to describe. He may be seen as the crucified Christ in the healthcare worker sacrificing their safety during the pandemic. He may be seen as the resurrected Jesus in the kindness of a friend who comforts. He may be seen as the humble Jesus in the poor or in a visit to someone in prison. He is all around us.

So, don’t be afraid of asking God questions. Jesus was always gentle with honest questioners.

The journey to dissolved questions is the journey of falling evermore deeply in love with God. It is a matter for another time. For now, be watchful. Look for Beauty. Look for God.

Healing of Soul and Body

11 Monday Sep 2017

Posted by CurateMike in All, Church, Death, Healing, Journey

≈ 1 Comment

Remember me, O Lord, in Thy Kingdom not unto judgment or condemnation be my partaking of Thy holy mysteries, O Lord, but unto healing of soul and body.

From the Liturgy of St John Chrysostom

We are a country at war. We have been at war many years now, fighting terrorism overseas. Before this war on terrorism, there was a war on communism, a war on fascism, a war over territory, a war over slavery, a war against “Indians,” and a war for independence. These are just some of the “big” wars in the history of our country. But is not a blog about war, you can find many of those elsewhere written by others much more qualified than I.

Rather, this is my thinking about moral injury: the mostly hidden wound of war on combatants and the similarity to our own moral injury as sinful humans.

Many of us old enough to remember Vietnam can recall the soldiers returning to a society hostile to them. For some number of them, it was a devastating re-entry. We are tempted to blame it on their participation in a “bad” war.

Compare Vietnam to today’s “good” war where recruits enlist with fanfare and return as heroes (“Thank you for your service”). Nowadays, veterans (I was in the Air Force years ago) are asked to stand to applause on Veterans Day.

And yet…

In his book, Killing From the Inside Out, in which he effectively dismantles Augustine’s/Aquines’ Just War Doctrine, Meagher cites Pentagon statistics indicating a “runaway suicide rate in the military, averaging thirty-three suicides per month in 2012, roughly one every seventeen hours.” One every seventeen hours. This is not unique to our current war. Grossmann (On Killing: The Psychology Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society) notes that there were periods during the “Good War,” (WWII) where US soldiers were being discharged (“shellshocked” was the old term) at a rate equal to that of incoming recruits.

But, aren’t these, WWII and the war on terrorism, the “good wars,” the Just Wars? If so, why the devastating effect on so many soldiers?

In his interview in the magazine Road to Emmaus, (“The Opposite of War is Not Peace”), Dr Timothy Patitsas refers to post World War II research that indicated eighty-five percent (85%!!) of US combatants in combat would either not fire their weapons or they would aim to miss. Similar, albeit limited, research conducted on our opposing armies yielded the same result. After the release of these findings, the US Military devised a new way to train soldiers by having them shoot at human-like shapes. Patitsas notes that after this change, “the post-traumatic stress in Vietnam skyrocketed and hasn’t stopped yet.”

I an not expert in treating combatants, but I’d like to bring out some important points by some who are.

Many of those specializing in the treatment of combat veterans have made some important discoveries. It seems that despite our best theological and moral efforts to differentiate between murder and killing, a human being who takes a life makes no such distinction in the depths of their soul. Taking a life of another kills something within many who take that life. Meagher refers to this a “moral injury.” Labeling a returning soldier as a “hero” only deepens the moral injury, causing the soldier to retreat within themselves and further from community. It seems, according to these authors, that many, upon returning from war, view themselves as criminals unfit for society and undeserving of a hero’s welcome.

Here is the image in my mind that has sparked my thinking on this: the juxtaposition of a hero’s welcome parade thrown in honor of someone who views one’s self as a criminal, the one who feels they have committed the crime of killing another human being celebrated by society. Imagine what must be going through this person’s mind, the energy it must take to play the role of the returning hero. This is an image I’ll return to shortly.

Cognitive therapy, “talking it out” only seems to make the isolation worse for returning combatants. Suicide can be a final escape from this hidden, moral injury, the dissonance between being society’s hero, yet feeling irredeemable. Therapists are looking for another way to help. Shay, in Achilles in Vietnam, believes that help for soldiers can be found in the ancient past. His assertion, now widely accepted, is that Homer’s Iliad was written to help Greek soldiers, morally injured by war, cope with this hidden injury and to eventually re-enter society. As I understand it, there is a new form of therapy, based on Shay’s work, emerging to help soldiers returning from combat.

As I said above, the point of my thinking here is not to focus on war. I hope I’ve said enough to now turn to what is really on my mind. And I hope you are still with me.

In reading some of the above material, the idea of a soldier feeling like a criminal and suffering moral injury due to his or her actions resonated deeply within me. Not because I was in combat—I was enlisted during one of the short periods of time our country was not at war—rather, the idea of suffering moral injury, receiving a hero’s welcome, and the typical therapies that have been employed for healing brought to my mind my experience in the churches I have attended and the Christian books I have read as I battled my own sin.

Meagher notes that “moral injury,” doing something we know is wrong, has an older name, one with which we are much less familiar with in today’s society: sin. Our modern society has tried to do away with sin by redefining right and wrong. It seems almost everything can be justified. If I cut off someone in traffic, they deserved it for driving like an idiot or because my needs exceed theirs. If I’m angry at another, they are keeping me from what I want and my worth is justified. We now use nature, nurture, rights, genes, parenting, lineage…on and on it goes, to justify almost any action that fits the social norm (which is ever changing, but that’s a different blog).

The idea of feeling like a criminal, feeling separated from other humanity, and feeling unworthy of a hero’s accolade has also caught my attention. It is more than feeling guilt over a wrong action, over sin, to use the old word. As described, it is a realization of the kind of person I am: I am someone who can actually perform such sinful acts. This realization also goes by another, old fashioned name: shame. Like sin, shame is a concept mostly foreign to modern society (at least as attributed to one’s self; however, we have weaponized shame against others who disagree with us). If sin is reasoned away in my own life, then there can be no shame; my actions are acceptable and I am acceptable.

Finally, I get to the point of this blog.

I have encountered Christian messages wherein I was encouraged to rejoice in God’s forgiveness of me, to be filled with the joy of being saved as the result of praying a certain prayer. I was told I had victory over sin. I was told that if I acted more morally or performed some philanthropic act, I should be happy that God was acting in me; I should be joy-filled. After saying the “sinner’s prayer,” I was given something akin to a “hero’s welcome” given to the returning combatant. When facing continued sin, I was told, “Just stop it. You are a child of God.” Perhaps you have had the same experience.

But this sense of victory never squared with my own inner certainty of my sinfulness and shame, that while I repented of my past sins and God did forgive me, I did not feel victorious, nor did I experience any sort of self-satisfaction from being saved. Fr Alexander Schmemann gives voice to my sense of moral injury better than I:

Baptism is the forgiveness of sins, not their removal. It introduces the sword of Christ into our life and makes it the real conflict, the inescapable pain and suffering of growth. It is indeed after baptism and because of it, that the reality of sin can be recognized in all of its sadness…

So, back to the image I described above: the combat veteran returning to a hero’s welcome while feeling like a criminal. All around me were Christians rejoicing and telling me my salvation was a certainty while inside I felt like a pretender. I was (am) overwhelmed by the anguish of my own shame that I am the kind of person who still most often desires things other than God; I am filled with self love, not love for God and neighbor. Consequently, rather than experiencing healing, I experienced a deepening separation from these other Christians.

But, the Church has, throughout her history, been a “hospital for the broken,” a place for healing. How does this healing take place? In very simplistic terms, the Enlightenment gave us a focus on intellectual truth. Therapeutic healing, in the light of Enlightenment thinking, is that I learn Truth, and from there I find Goodness in me (or at least rationalize my behavior) and move past my moral injury. Focus on the intellect, learn truth, and healing follows, I was told. Like the soldier told that killing in war is okay, that the war is Just, this way of approaching healing did not work for me either. It only deepened my sense of separation, of isolation.

But this way of using intellect first is a relatively new idea in Christianity; it forsakes Beauty, the third of the classical virtues and the one most neglected in Western thought.

The Eastern Church has always held that to be healed I should seek Beauty first: the Beauty of God. By dwelling on God I dwell on Beauty; I fall in love with God. In time, loving the Beauty allows me to find the Goodness in the Cross of Christ, and thereby find the goodness in my own cross: my own moral injury. Finally, the knowledge of the Truth of God, which is intertwined with Beauty and Goodness, begins to emerge.

Sin and the resulting shame (moral injury) drives us from beauty and toward ugliness. It teaches us lies. It separates us from others. Beauty, on the other hand, heals by replacing the ugliness of our moral injury with Beauty. Beauty brings us into re-entry with community. Beauty allows us begin to see Goodness, to “embrace Goodness and to become good.” Then Truth comes, the truth of the Cross; and we can see the humiliation of our being—our shame—in the Light of God and rejoice in His love of us.

Of course healing is not this neatly linear, but it must begin with contemplating Beauty. Perhaps healing begins with someone who is filled with Christ (a friend, pastor, therapist, etc.) who crosses my path and “absorbs some of my moral injury,” and I see God’s beauty in them. Eventually, I am able to begin to find the goodness in my shame, for my suffering marks me—they are the marks of the suffering of Christ upon my body.

Healing is a long process.

No one can put together what has crumbled into dust, but You can restore a conscience turned to ashes; You can restore to its former beauty a soul lost and without hope. With You, there is nothing that cannot be redeemed. You are Love; You are Creator and Redeemer. We praise You, singing: Alleluia!

Akathist to the Glory of God, Ode 10

The Music of God

20 Saturday May 2017

Posted by CurateMike in All, Journey

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Christianity, Church, God, Life, music, orthodoxy, poetry, religion, spirituality

Inspired by the metaphor of another writer…

Music When I first heard the music of God, I was tone deaf. Later in life, circumstances caused me to listen again. This time, something in the music caught my ear…I continued listening. Once I finally gave myself over to it, I was captivated by its beauty, goodness, and truth. It spoke to the depths of my soul in a way that only music can. I played it over and over. I began to study the sheet music and to sing along. I longed for others to hear it, to sing, too.

After awhile, I became a Pastor so that I might help others hear for the first time or to hear more deeply.

One day, I noticed a note out of place. It was a small thing, one note in a grand score, but there it was. Then, I began to hear other wrong notes. And, parts of the arrangement itself seemed somehow off. I was becoming aware of the very faint echo of a more complete orchestration playing in my soul.

I sought silence in my life to try to hear more clearly what was so faint within. The occasional mis-played note and the sections of poor arrangement were becoming an irritant in the music I once loved. How could this be?

I joined with a group of pastors who were studying the Catholic mystics. The music was set aright; beauty, goodness, and truth returned. But over time, the music that continued to play within grew louder and more distinct. The music I was hearing with my pastor friends was still off in some way I did not understand…it did not harmonize with the music within. What I did know, however, was that I could no longer be content with the music surrounding me, I had to hear the music within.

When I first attended a Christian Orthodox Church, I knew immediately that I was hearing the music I was longing to hear, the music that had once been so faint within me. I’ve been listening to it for several years now, letting it wash over me and permeate my heart and mind. Slowly, I am hearing nuances previously unnoticed. I try to hum along, but my voice seems croaked in comparison to the glory of the music. I look forward to the day when I might sing along with the voices of the angels and the saints. I have a long way to go.

It has been said that God is unknowable, but you have to know Him to know that. This is the fundamental Christian paradox.

To know an unknowable God, to learn to sing along with the fullness of the music of God, to fully partake of the divine nature of the Source of the music…that will take an eternity.

Come and see…and hear the music.

The Way of Christ: Bearing a Little Shame and Finding Christ’s Joy

07 Wednesday Oct 2015

Posted by CurateMike in All, Journey

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

God, Humiliation, Jesus, Shame

Wretched man that I am! Who will save me from this body of death?
–St Paul

I have been on this earth for 6 decades. I just experienced a recent job change and move to a new state—another wearying “new beginning.” It caused me to reflect deeply on my life over the period of many months. In times of past reflection, I have always remembered the things I have accomplished and the adventures I have had. The nature of this change caused me to reflect on the person that I am. Images began to come into my mind, images would not stop—and they linger still—faces of the people I have hurt in no small way because of my radical self-centeredness. Some names I know, some I no longer remember or never knew. The overriding image in my mind is that of my life as a boat moving through a narrow canal, the wake of my life swamping all who are near the shore.

It is a remarkably painful image, that boat. During some late nights I wonder how I can continue to bear it. I see faces from my past as the waves of my life roll over them. I want to beg them for forgiveness. I have deeply hurt these people.. I want to hide myself from the world. I feel so deeply guilty for what I have done, but the guilt is familiar. What is new to me is that I have begun to feel deeply, deeply ashamed of who I am: a wretched man.

Jesus ‘…endured the cross, despising the shame…’

St. Paul says that Jesus “…endured the cross, despising the shame…” (Hebrews 12:1-3). Jesus unjustly endured the humiliation and shame of a criminal’s death, which He didn’t deserve. The Way of Christ for me, therefore, is the way of bearing the shame of who I am: a distorted human who deserves the cross of death and eternity in hell…and I must admit that fact to the God whom I love. It is the shame that I deserve and the cross of pain I must bear daily. And it puts me in the Way of Jesus, the path of salvation.

But, bearing my cross is not living a life of despair, or so I am learning. In the midst of the pain of my shame before God, a curious thing is beginning to happen. A very tiny point of light is appearing amidst the grayness of my shame. When I allow it to do so, that tiniest pinpoint of light illuminates those around me in such a way that I cannot help but love them and pray for them; they are me and I am them. Words fail to explain this mystery; perhaps the prayer of St. Nikolai Velimirovic will help: “For all the history of mankind from Adam to me, I repent; for all history is in my blood. For I am in Adam and Adam is in me.”

Most importantly, in my deep shame and pain I am finding budding joy. Jesus, “…for the JOY set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame…” Joy, the same joy of Christ given to you by Him (John 15:11) comes to you only through bearing your cross of shame and pain. The joy of Christ out of the pain of my cross. It is a mystery to me.

This is the Way of Jesus. You must face yourself and bear the pain of shame for your wretchedness to experience the joy of Christ. Four considerations:

Shame can be painful beyond your capacity to bear it. Pray that the Spirit will reveal to you the things about which you must feel shame. Do not simply reflect on your own life judging yourself by your standards. This is false shame.
Do not run from the shame God reveals to you. It may feel like it is beyond your capacity to bear, but it is not. Pray for tears of repentance. God is with you, weeping, too, and in answer to St. Paul’s question, above, God, through Jesus, will save you from your wretchedness.
Pray for a very wise, mature Christian man or woman—a spiritual father or mother—with whom you can share your shame…someone who will not try to “fix” you; rather, someone who will silently bear witness to your confession of shame before God.
Bear only a little of your shame. How much shame should you bear before God? St. Silouan, about whom I wrote last time, put it his way: “Stand at the brink of the abyss of despair, and when you see that you cannot bear it any more, draw back a little and have a cup of tea.”

In your bearing of your cross of the pain of your shame you will begin to experience the promised fullness of the joy that is Christ’s. This is the Way of Jesus. It is mysterious, indeed.

curacy

~ thoughts from the desert

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The Way of Christ: Bearing a Little Shame and Finding Christ’s Joy