Entries in Life

Wow! If you read my posts on Orthodoxy, you know I often point to Father Stephen's weblog.

Since his post three days ago — a little ontology lesson on why Hell isn't real — he's gotten 115 comments (five more now that I hit reload on the page).

He does have a sizable readership (in the thousands), but nothing else has generated this much discussion.

I suppose this comment in his first reply is about as clear as you can make it:

Literalism is the bane of Scriptural understanding. Not that there aren’t plenty of “literal” things described. But many times we have to push beyond the literal to arrive at the truth.

As many Rwandans say, forgiving is an effort that one makes in order to make life livable, especially since victims and the ex-prisoners have to live together as neighbors again. (— from Reconciliation still a major challenge

Rwanda has too many guilty people for “classic justice” — it just “didn’t meet expectations”.

Classic justice is having trouble dealing with the hundreds of thousands of genociders that will show up in court. The guilty and the victims are everywhere.

So Rwanda has implemented public confession, after a fashion, in the form of its Gacaca courts. Confess, and your sentence will be reduced.

Still, as the quote above hints, it isn't always easy. Victims and perpetrators have to live next door and they can be a danger to each other.

Describing the experiences of living in the same communities, some survivors said that despite having forgiven and reconciled, they found it hard to look each other in the eye.

Tonight, after confession, my priest told me "Confession is easy, relationships are hard". I immediately thought of this article. Confession, giving voice to your sin, seems so easy, but we have to do it so often. Screw up, confess. Screw up, confess. Repeat ad infinitum, it seems.

Because confession is so easy and does not, in and of itself, mean change, it is nothing compared with going back and reconciling with the one you wronged.

When I've hurt my wife, she isn't satisfied that I've gone to confession. She wants real change.

When the man who killed your family confesses to his crime and has his sentence reduced or forgiven completely, you aren't going to be satisfied when he moves in beside you. You want real change. (And probably, if we're honest, some "classic", retributive justice.)

Confession is easy. Reconciliation is hard.

Yesterday was Meatfare Sunday, or the Sunday of the Last Judgment.  Next Monday, we Orthodox begin our Lenten fast in earnest.  Father Stephen has a great meditation on the meaning of the Last Judgement:

The Last Judgment:

When I think about the Last Judgment, apart from whatever cosmic images one may draw upon, I’ve often come back to the simple question: “What do you want?”
...
“Do I want God?” is not the same thing as “I want health,” or “I want prosperity,” or a number of other things that some attach to the Christian religion.
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This is a very different matter than saying “I like religion” or “religious practices” or “I like thinking about God and arguing about theology.” Such things may have a desire for God in them or they may simply be distractions like any number of other hobbies in which we engage. The test of our desire, of course, is love. Do I love God - do I want to love God? Do I want to know God?
...
Christ Himself makes the question even more concrete, or immediate, in His parable of the Last Judgment. There He says that “inasmuch as you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.” Thus our love of God is as concrete as our love for every other human being around us - down to the very least.

Its great when a weblog post on software design helps me understand religious movements.

Even though I had peripheral knowledge of Emergence, I hadn't made the connection between it and the "Emerging Church" movement, but coming across the term in an article that asks us to consider that formal methods of software design just don't cut it.

Back in my senior year of college I did a course on Chaos Theory.  I didn't get as much out of it as I should have, but the one thing that stood out to me was how the Mandelbrot Set came from such a simple equation.  Who could predict that Z = Z² + C could produce such complex, unending beauty?

Often, when I read about the emerging church, I think "You guys are trying to do what the Orthodox have already accomplished" and now I know why.

"In philosophy, systems theory and the sciences, emergence refers to the way complex systems and patterns arise out of a multiplicity of relatively simple interactions" (to quote Wikipedia).  This is why the formal specification of software is so hard.  Formal systems have a nice tidy set of rules and, from those, try to build complex systems.  But simple rules, applied in just a slightly different way lead to dramatically different results.  The simple rules deceive us into thinking that we have a controllable output, that we have something predictable.

My experience in the Protestant church came to a head when I couldn't reconcile all the positive statements about God ("God never breaks his promises", "God's justice must be satisfied").  That, and all the little "facts" about God seemed like so much hubris.

Orthodoxy's negative theology was really attractive.  Instead of making definitive statements about who God is, we only say what we know God is not.

I'm guessing the Emerging Church people see the same thing.  They see rationalists creating a bunch of rules for God and say "Hey, the church is Emergent!  All those little facts and figures help build a big Emergent Church!"

So now I understand.  The emergent church isn't "emerging" in the sense that it is "coming out".  The Emergent Church is just saying "All those little simple little things you know about God and the Church don't mean that they're simple."

At least not the way most people think of it.  "That rapist deserves to rot in Hell.  I'm sure God will see to it."

The Holy Trinity wills only the good of the sinner, even at the cost of justice. (From The Injustice of Grace)  But does not the Scripture speak of God’s anger and wrath against sin? These texts, says St Isaac, must be interpreted figuratively, not literally. God does not act out of anger or wrath. He never acts to harm his creatures. He never acts out of vengeance.

This is a long way from the god who reacts to our actions with anger and condemnation.  Read the whole post.  It's worth it.

By contrast, check out how some Protestants deal with sin (the instances mentioned in the WSJ article seem to be primarily focused on challenges to the power of the Pastor).  And I'll come right out and say I've seen similar abuses in Orthodoxy, but even when the priest is abusive, his power isn't ultimate.  So many of these people obviously lack the humility and grace that should be the identifying characteristics of Christian leaders.

Fr Stephen has written out some thoughts on American Christianity and I found this bit especially apropos after reading this post from Bruce Reyes-Chow:

The problem with this marketing approach [using different sorts of music to attract different groups to your church] is only beginning to reveal its flaws (apart from the theology behind it): America is becoming increasingly fragmented in its music styles. Thus Churches, or at least services, are having to be multiplied to meet the growing diversity of the market.
… Someone asked me once (actually more than once) what St. Anne (my parish) does to grow. I answered simply: “We answer the phone.” I cannot explain where the converts come from, though there is a slow but steady stream… The faith remains the same whether the “market” is a village in Africa or a suburb of Los Angeles. It is thus truly “inclusive” and “universal” in the extreme.

The comments become pretty interesting. Especially since my church has Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, Stewardship drives, study groups, etc — all things that converts poo-poo in the comments as “too American.”

Last night, our library showed Ostrov — a popular movie in Russia that did well at Sundance. When I first heard about this movie (I've forgotten where, now), I knew I wanted to see it. dvfmama didn't know I wanted to see it, but when she saw the description at the library, she knew I would be interested.

(Aside: My three oldest children were the only kids there. One of the older ladies asked us afterwards if we were Russian — our children behaved so well through a subtitled film! Little did she know that they always turn on subtitles — even for English language films.)

Here's the synopsis from Amazon:

Somewhere in Northern Russia in a small Russian Orthodox monastery lives a very unusual man. His fellow-monks are confused by his bizarre conduct. Those who visit the island believe that the man has the power to heal, exorcise demons and foretell the future. However, he considers himself unworthy because of a sin he committed in his youth. The film is a parable, combining the realities of Russian everyday life with monastic ritual and routine.

Ostrov is steeped in (Russian) Orthodox monasticism, so well over a third of it is prayers or psalms, but this is what monastics do: they pray.

If orthopraxis were simply about living in a way that others could look at and say “Yes, Father Job is a Holy Man” then Father Job would be the center of attention in this film. Instead Father Job, like the prodigal son's brother, seems jealous of Father Anatoli's gifts. In the meantime, Father Anatoli, instead of living a blissfully pious life, is wracked with guilt and isn't a very pleasant person to be around. He's humble and gifted, to be sure, but he lacks intelligence and people skills.

And that last part is precisely what makes the film so attractive to me. When he was asked why he was spending time with sinners, Jesus replied “They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick.” Father Anatoli is clearly not a holy man, but he is blessed, and he blesses others.

(I recommend this movie highly. Still, if you see it, read some of the comments on Amazon.com or IMDB. There are some parts where the subtitles are incorrect. For example, near the end of the movie, he asks someone “Will you take a confession?” and the subtitles translate this as “Do you want to go to confession?”)

Last week I got back from a working trip through the South with brief stops along the way in Tennessee; Jackson, Mississippi; Mobile, Alabama and longer stays in New Orleans, Louisiana and Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I've some great pictures I want to post here… but not just yet. I'm still recovering. As soon as I can manage to get back on my riding schedule, I should be fine.

But, while I've got this itch, I thought I'd note that I think I've finally figured out why I'm no longer much interested in Theological discussions per se — that is, whose concept of God (or the non-existence of God) is correct.

Of course, part of this is because I've already made up my mind which Tradition I'm going to follow. Another part is watching people like my friend Jim get involved in seeming never-ending discussions surrounding the the Emerging Church or New Perspectives on Paul and I'm just not that interested in discussing the right way to approach Christianity. I'd rather attempt to live it.

I'm reading through John Chryssavgis' The Way of the Fathers: Exploring the Patristic Mind and he makes this point nicely:

Christ proceeds through the ages in the agency of persons. … The transcendence of the divine Word was always easier to acknowledge than the more scandalous immanence and humanity … [Therefore] the teaching of a charismatic elder in the fifth century desert … is never outdated insofar as that person lived and loved as Christ.

[Finally] one must acknowledge that the high points of theology are not confined to one specific “golden” age but pervade every age which happens to be blessed with those “advanced in theoria [vision] … and purified. By analogy, there is decay in the theological world when such saints are wanting.

Father Stephen puts this point of view succinctly when he writes about evil:

Of course, there is much conversation about the metaphysics of evil and the nature of hell and eternal punishment - and though I have recommended articles on the same that I find of value - I think that a large amount of Christian energy is wasted on such matters. For it is not the mastery of the metaphysics of the universe that makes any difference, but rather the embrace of the Gospel of Christ and obedience to His commandments. [emphasis mine — Mark]

So, when I hear Christians arguing amongst themselves about interpretation or the church or whatnot, I'm turned off. I used to be really dogmatic about my beliefs, sure enough of myself that I would argue incessantly. And I still talk too much. But more and more I've come to realize how much more I need to embrace the Christ's Gospel and obey his commandments and I've begun to refocus my efforts on my own life rather than figuring out better arguments for what I believe.

(via Jim's shared items feed)

It has long seemed to me that there are really just two religions in the world, and they show up in each tradition: one runs on risk/ welcome/ abandon/ grace/ transformation/ forgiveness/ creativity/ multiple-possibilities; and the other, on security/ control/ rules/ order/ stability/ only-one-possibility. - Two Religions

This does seem to be a theme that shows up a lot. But I would argue that it is possible to fuse the two strains of thinking. It is hard. It is very difficult to be at once about rules and grace; transformation and order do not easily co-exist, but it is possible to have both.

The Orthodox are obviously all about order and stability. There are also, if you can handle them, a lot of rules. But I've only seen "control" and "only-one-possibility" from one very bad priest. He was young and a convert, though, so it is easy (for me) to forgive him.

Instead, I've seen an abundance of grace and forgiveness within the Church. And not just at the parish level. It seems to be throughout the fathers. I won't go so far as to say that welcome, creativity, or multiple-possibilities is widespread in the Church, but then, I don't see a lot of emphasis on security and control.

On Monday, Eric asked me why I thought I would need to use a consistent route to get back to 20 miles today.

Today I went out at 6:30 in the morning to ride for an hour and half over that 20 mile ride that I used to do and I thought of the answer. Like the Mennonite man that passed me by, it is easier to compete against yourself if you are covering the same ground every day. You can push yourself to go a little faster and get done a little quicker. If you have a Heart Rate Monitor (which I plan on getting), you know that today's readings are comparable to yesterday's readings.

Also, less thought is involved in the process. Fewer decisions (“Turn this way?” “Turn back now?”) mean I have time (like the woman Nathan ran into) to pray. I try to use the Jesus Prayer. It works something like this: (Inhale)Lord Jesus (Exhale)have mercy (Inhale)on me (Exhale)a sinner.

Of course, you can tell by the fact that I was thinking about Eric's question and coming up with answers for it that I am easily distracted from prayer.

The following is a lightly edited copy of an email I sent to a friend. He suggested that I post this.

You’re uncomfortable with Dogma. So am I. Dogma is one of the reasons I love the Orthodox. Yes, there are plenty of bad apples, but, the good stuff is completely Orthodox. The triune God and the divine man Christ. That’s all I need to be Orthodox.

Well, yes, I do have to be comfortable with Liturgy, otherwise Orthodoxy isn’t going to “speak to me”. But that’s the point: orthopraxis is absolutely as important, if not more important, than orthodoxy. What we believe is important. But what we do is absolutely vital.

I remember clearly when I started to see that we (“we” being the western church, especially prots) put to much importance on orthodoxy and not enough on orthopraxis. Somewhere in high school, I was involved in my church’s Evangelism Explosion program. “You believe in Christ,” was the verse we were using. “Good! The devils believe… and TREMBLE!”

I’m sure I had begun to grok this sooner, but I remember this clearly. We don’t practice what we preach. If we really believe this stuff, it would be reflected in our action. If we claim to believe something, but don’t follow through, then we don’t actually believe it.

All this is a long way to say that I’ve come to believe (and I think the church teaches) that godly action is more important than getting all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed in your belief system.

I think I read River of Fire (RoF) for the first time about 10 years ago. It was an eye opener. Reading the RoF was the first time I encountered a spiritual authority that I felt comfortable with who said “God is entirely Love” and didn’t couch the terms.

Everyone else said “God is Love, but…” and felt the need to explain an angry God who was so pissed off about sin that he had to send people to Hell.

It provided me with a way to reconcile my belief in the reality of Hell with the belief in a loving God.

We’re the ones who choose God or not. He doesn’t force himself on us. And, as a loving God, I think he recognises cultural and geographical limits. I don’t think he automatically condemns someone to eternal torment simply because they’re a Hindu who’s never heard of Christ. I think God has some subtlety.

So, I’m not really interested in judging Mennonites, Christian Scientists, Mormons or Scientologists. Each of us has a conscience. We instinctively know what is right. If we seek God, I think he will, in Love, respond to us despite our limitations.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still critical of each of the above. But I’ve at least gotten to the point where I’m not going to smack them over the head with the Gold-bound Gospel book from liturgy and force them to repent.

And I absolutely agree that we should be able to find truth and beauty (From the philokalia: truth is beauty, beauty is truth) in other spiritual traditions. We should be able to respect the Buddhist Koans or Hindi poetry.

“Be able to”, as in “go ahead and appreciate it” not “everyone has to do this”. Most people aren’t comfortable with that sort of ambiguity. We claim to know the Truth and anything outside our tradition makes us uncomfortable.

God said, “I AM”. Not “I AM ONLY FOUND IN EASTERN CHRISTIANITY”. Jesus said “I AM the WAY, TRUTH, and LIFE” and he showed us true love. Anger was a rare thing for him. And he didn’t tell his disciples “Go tell everyone about me because they’re condemned to hell without knowing my name.” His words were positive statements: “He who believes in me will be saved.” And we’ve assumed that the converse is also true.

In fact, this brings me to another thing I appreciate about the Orthodox. The focus is almost exclusively on me and how I don’t measure up. It is clear that I’m loved and I bear the image of God, but it is clear that Deification is the ideal, that it is what we all desire (even if we don’t know it), what we all strive for.

Theosis is the goal, but God is Love. He doesn’t demand Theosis of us. And never have I felt it necessary to judge a good person simply because they haven’t achieved Theosis. Nor have I felt judgement because I haven’t yet been deified.

What I have felt is envy for those with a closer relationship with God. I’ve envied other people’s devotion. And I freely confess that since I don’t feel it is a sin to envy spiritual achievement.

But I still feel loved.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by guilt. I hold myself responsible for my sin — sin contrary to my true, image-of-God nature. And I fall short of the possible Glory that God placed within me. The glory that he enables me to realize.

But the focus is on me and my shortcomings. I can see how others fail, sure, but they’re sin isn’t my responsibility. And when they find beauty, its a good thing. “All Truth [beauty] is God’s.”

Maybe I’m looking in the wrong places, but I don’t really see seekers. I don’t see people who desire God. I see people angry at God (just as the RoF said), people building mudpies when the entire beach awaits them.

It is those people that I’m concerned about, not the devout Muslim or the God-fearing Baptist. And when I say “concern”, I don’t mean “concern for the eternal state of their soul”, though, hrm, I do wonder if they’ll be a dwarf tasting hay. I mean a sadness. There is so much more than this. And they reject it.