White Privilege - Am I Allowed To Be Angry At 'The Church'?

My lovely wife and I take part in a Zoom call every Wednesday night based on the book Be The Bridge. It's a small group and we're involved because my wife is friends with one of the people in the group. We're also involved because we're an interracial couple and the subject is race. 

The church leading this group is not the church we attend (or had been attending prior to the shutdown). If you've read any of my posts here, it may not surprise you to find that the shutdown provided me with the excuse I need to stop going. 

For 20 years or more, since we've been attending an 'evangelical' church, I've been griping about the infiltration of politics into the church. The American flag, the pledge of allegiance, patriotic songs, and displays that are specifically national in character DO NOT BELONG. This makes it an American institution.

I don't sing patriotic songs ('God bless America' really rankles me), refuse to place hand over heart for the pledge, and will remain silent if it smells of anything cultural. The only reason I don't remain sitting is to not draw attention to myself. In hindsight, perhaps I should have remained seated. Does this make me un-American? I can separate America from faith in Christ; I can demarcate the political from the spiritual; I can see clearly where the 'founders' of America draw the line between a 'Christian' country and their selection of those more universal tenets from the faiths in which they were raised that align with their Englightenment principles. 

So, un-American? That's silly.

In 2016, what I feared most happened. No longer undercover, the lid blew off. The 'evangelical' church revealed that it is an American church. I don't care if you say it isn't: for a large percentage of people, it is.

The wind that blew through after that first Sunday after the election in 2016 stung. We felt betrayed. This is not the church that Christ built; this is not why he hung on the cross; this is not evangelism. 

But we kept coming. One of the young pastors preached a message about what pro-life really means and the Spirit blew through the church that day. It was a great reset and it seemed that healing was going to take place. And it did. For a while.

But then George Floyd. And the 2020 elections.

I unplugged. Even when I showed up, I wasn't there.

And then COVID. We stopped going. And haven't been back. And I have no desire to return.

If you've followed along, you'll realize that the other part of this is that I believe I've stumbled onto the true Church. I'm not talking about the Orthodox Church. I'm talking about Orthodoxy. The more you discover orthodox, the more quickly you can ascertain what isn't orthodox and in this regard, much of today's church is unorthodox. If you've followed my blog, this is not a new revelation. This deep dive has given me the words, the concepts, and the depth to frame what I had been sensing.

So...

This group. It's one of two that we are participating in. The other is related to the book Caste. On the call this past week, I gave voice to my rage at 'the church.' One of the comments, in full support, was that even though I have white privilege, I am angry in relation to my 'black wife.' I really had to unpack that as I do believe that I have privileges others don't. This isn't an economic thing, it's an unconscious thing. By and large, in the circles in which I run, I don't have to think about these things. That is the privilege.

And she was right. But my rage is much larger than just my 'black wife.' I think, however, that because of her hurt, and my anger at the hurt the church caused her, it lit the match. Prior to this, it was hypothetical, intellectual, even spiritual, but it wasn't life-altering. I could really just take it or leave it. I'd go for her or for the grandkids (although I am suspicious of the indoctrination of seven-year-olds when it comes to reinforcing how sinful they are and how they need saving).

But when I heard her out and realized her pain, I became lit. And now I am bitter, jaded, and have zero desire to return. 

So we participate in these Zoom calls. Do we try that church? Do I suck it up and bring what we're learning to the church we had been attending? Do I chuck and go full Orthodox?

The dilemma remains. But these nutters operating under the guise of being pastors, or Christians, or whatever they call themselves, both saddens and infuriates me. 

Again, Christ died for this?

Sultans and Sneakers - The Spiritual Mutt Interview

About a year ago, a comment was dropped into one of my posts. Unfortunately, I didn't see it until around December. It was an inquiry into my blog and I was asked if I'd be interested in joining a video podcast to discuss my journey through Islam and where I'm at today.

I was first astonished that someone had actually read my posts with that level of interest. I think we start out blogging with the hopes that someone will relate, that we'll touch someone or that in some way we'll be validated. As time rolls on, most of us never realize this and our blogs get buried in the millions of other blogs out there.

So I was at once humbled and thrilled. Super cool guy, very knowledgeable, very gracious, and, like me, very inquisitive. He's a Muslim and his blog is called "Sneakers and Sultans" and features a wide away of interviews. He's also an Ohio guy with a background in manufacturing. 

I highly recommend the site.

For those interested, here's the interview with me: 

The Golden Calf Is Not A Metaphor

I used to think the story of The Golden Calf was just that, a story, more symbolic than real. But the events of the past several years have caused me to rethink this.

Yes, I know this is photoshopped. 

However, what is frightening is that it really does not seem that outside of the realm of reality. 

After all, Jim Bakker is peddling trinkets such as this:

Trump Cyrus Gold Coin

And though they've modernized, Lord knows that TBN has a strange fetish with tacky gold decor.

No matter how I try, I just can't escape the feeling that something is very, very wrong with all of this and that we've veered down a detour from which there is no turning back.

 

Life - The Journey, The Breakthrough, The Future

Peter Gabriel has released an update of his anthem 'Biko' through Playing For Change. It is, quite simply, stunning. It literally brought me to tears. 

I then proceeded down the rabbit hole of memories past. Peter Gabriel's music, specifically his fourth eponymous solo album, would send my musical interest in a completely different direction. The obligatory suburban diet of Top 40 and classic rock would rapidly fade and my interests in suburban 'culture' would fade just as quickly as I sought to break free. I didn't know where I was going but I sure knew where I didn't want to be.

I would be a huge fan through So. My musical interests would veer off into a completely different trajectory after that but there are so many memories wrapped up in his music from that period of time, I was transported instantly when I watched the documentary of the 'making of' of So. 

In listening to him reflect and to see him now, it became clear to me that our entire journey when younger is this search for meaning and for giving expression to it along the way. We don't know where we're going and the goal remains blurry, fuzzy, and unclear. Art gives voice to that search.

We become something of a vortex into which swirls all of our experiences, our pursuits, our loves, our foibles, and our strivings. At some point, we reach the apex of this pursuit and we pause and reflect. Often, we become comfortable. For some, that is the goal. For some, that leads to bewilderment because we aren't sure what's next. 

The Matrix has become something of a metaphor, a modern 'Bible' to give expression to such things in our journey. Our youth is represented by Neo and Trinity's journey through the sentinels, ascending ever higher toward bursting through the clouds. What lies beyond that remains a vision and a hope. All we know is that we need to shake this darkness, that there is something out there in the great beyond.

And then there is that moment of bliss where we have that breakthrough.

And this look on Trinity's face says it all. 

I've had several of these moments. Peter Gabriel's fourth album was one of them. The opening of "The Rhythm Of The Heat" changed my life in an instant. I was intoxicated. Even today, it never ceases to move me.

 

There have been several that have left me spellbound but, quite honestly, the majority of the journey isn't the instant awareness but the gradual unfolding of the journey punctuated by those pivotal moments. 

The challenge is that once we've burst through the clouds, leaving all the sentinels behind us, and we see the sun that we do not get comfortable and cease striving.  

Regrets, Moving On

Had an interesting experience this morning, one I was quite unprepared for and thus worthy of jotting down. 

At work this Saturday morning (there's a long story about that adventure), one of the radios in the shop was playing a 'classic rock' song from Mötley Crüe (when did Mötley Crüe become classic rock?).

My pangs of regret were several. About 20 years ago when ebay was fresh, I sold all of my concert tickets of my youth. The tour from the album this song was featured on was one of them. It's bothered me for years. There is something about a tangible reminder rather than a shared story that is more impactful. You might say it is bragging rights and, realistically, that's probably what it is as I don't listen to them anymore. 

Their songs take me back to that time, though a glossed-over version as that time was filled with a lot of pain, anger, and angst which is why I was drawn to this music in the first place. In fact, there is little of the music I listened to then and for which I had concert tickets that I listen to now. It's all memory machines.

But memory is powerful. We gloss over the bad, create some idealized version of what it was like, and pine for those days when we struggle in the present which is what initially hit me when I heard the song this morning.  I can't recall the last time I heard the song and it isn't something I'd take time out to find to listen to at all.

But as I walked along with those reminisces floating around, something else happened. I realized that it was a trap and was not somewhere I wanted to remain. I felt a peace come over me as I realized that what I am truly longing for is something to move me forward, something to sustain me unfettered from the cares of the 'world,' something that we often refer to as 'eternal.' And I realized that this is, in fact, my true longing, my deepest pursuit, that never-ending quest for truth.

And I have it. I have access to it. I have found it and it carries me on deeper into the mystery. Which is what circles me back to Orthodoxy. I have learned to live in the mystery, something I was never able to fully embrace in my previous church experiences. 

Father Patrick Henry Reardon encapsulated this well for me in one of his lectures: 

"[In] the Orthodox Church we never  try to explain the mystery...We try  to keep the lines on the road to keep  you from going in the ditch on one side or you keep it from going into oncoming  traffic on the other side...

The  function of dogmatic theology is to keep the church in the middle of the road. It is never in the  Orthodox Church to explain a doctrine. Never."  

 

And it gave me pause. I appreciate where I've been as if it were not for that I wouldn't be where I am, but it gave me full awareness for my true passion, and the pangs of regret faded. Rather than music such as this giving expression to what is inside of me, I am learning a new language that is giving me a much true expression of not only where I've been but where I'm going.

There is only forward and the path I have been traveling is exactly the path I'm supposed to be traveling and I am excited about where it is leading.

The Journey Continues - Augustine, Confessions

I've decided to, after multiple attempts, read through Augustine's Confessions (and, likely, City of God). My entire reading library is now 'Orthodox' or 'Catholic' in nature. In fact, the more I listen to modern preaching and teaching, the more I gravitate back toward these writings.

Modern preaching simply does not hold my interest or, it may be said, it doesn't 'thrill' me like it used to. This leads me to believe that by and large I was always looking for the 'wow' factor and as this faded I grew bored and in search of the next buzz.

What I find now is that I'm looking for a faith in which to settle into and it is this I find in these writings. It feels like home. It isn't absent the 'wow' factor but when it happens it isn't an emotional thing as much as it is a deepening of peace. As the early Fathers like to say, it is as if my soul has opened prodigiously at the faintest of light shining into it. My soul expands, it is not titillated or otherwise charged. It leads, as the Fathers, also like to say, to reverent silence.

It is this silence that charges me and once there nothing can replace it. My longing is for that place of silence where I find Him and only Him.

Walking Away, Part 2

I went to my first Vespers service at a local Orthodox church. It was small, only about seven people in attendance. I had to navigate my way into the church through the kitchen where it appeared there was some kind of event taking place later in the event hall. It wasn't until after the service that I learned where I was supposed to have gone in.

This was something similar to what I experienced when considering Islam as a viable spiritual path and was not met with the usual enthusiastic welcome with clear directions from the parking lot to the main entrance to the sanctuary in more 'seeker-friendly' churches so this came as little surprise. 

As an introvert quietly seeking, this was just fine. Those I did speak to were friendly and gave me directions and the priest sought me out to introduce himself before the service started. I'd describe it as a gentle welcome.

The walls were painted with biblical scenes and there were icons around the church. This is something new to me but I get the idea of veneration, not worship. Kissing them and the cross is foreign to me but is not a deal-breaker. God knows in 'evangelical' circles there are some peculiarities that might weird new (or old, for that matter) people out. 

I'd take the time to describe it in great detail but there are plenty of videos out there if you'd like to watch the service. It was short, less than an hour, and singularly focused. 'Tradition' gets a bad rap but I was keen to pay attention to what was being said and sung, and it aligned perfectly with the seeking I'm doing.

This was a breath of fresh air.

I watched and tried to time the standing (most of the service) or sitting (wasn't clear here) and no one seemed to care. I watched how often - a lot - they crossed themselves and gently bowed during the service and was quite interested. I'm familiar enough with the symbolism of the three fingers (Trinity) and two fingers (dual nature of Christ) finger placement as well as the order of how the crossing is done on the body but knew nothing about its practice during a service. 

The entire service was singing by two women (one the priest's wife) and a gentleman in the back giving their singing the undertone (bass?) to buoy their singing and the priest with his chanting which I could not fully make out as he chanted. Though I could not understand the 'chanting' of the priest - smells and bells, right? - but I really do love the smell of incense. 

It's what I've come to expect and it had much better resonance in person than online. I plan to go back or perhaps do the same at other Orthodox churches around town.

Walking Away

I'm done. I have officially checked out of contemporary Christianity. Just, done.

I've been fighting this for many years, long before the insanity that is 2020. The 2016 election threw the grenade when it became expressly clear that the distinction between Christianity and America, Jesus and Americans, not only blurred but were formally merged.

Chris Tomlin songs, Bethel muddled lyrical theology and overall weirdness as folks look for a buzz, the next big thing, an escape from the travails of the world into our gated communities and socially safe enclaves, all in the name of Jesus and the 'miraculous' just drove me to realize that it has become incredibly selfish in its manifestation.

Does it help people? Sure it does, in a 'moral therapeutic deism' kind of way, a self-help for the soul. For those so healed, this is not a bad thing, not at all. Off drugs, save your marriage, give up addictions, get your life on track? Absolutely ok.

However...

Something is amiss. I can't find Jesus in it. Rather than seeking holiness, we seek morality. Rather than seeking Who He is, we seek to explain how He benefits us. Rather than focusing on the Trinity, we've got horribly muddled theology that is primarily Christocentric and veers headlong toward Sabellianism, Nestorianism, or any of the other host of theologies that violated the doctrines, those boundaries of the Church. 

Rather than bathing in the Trinity, we seek the Spirit separately and independently, as if He can be extracted from Jesus for an individual experience with Him alone. The Father? He's there somewhere, usually given lip service in our prayers. The Resurrection? We use this over and against all the other 'prophets' who are dead rather than weaving into this into the 'event' of the Incarnation.

Yes, I've been swimming in Eastern Orthodoxy and it makes me realize just how much my longing is being filled, at least through books, music, and the services available online. 

Am I running away rather than toward? I don't believe so. I do nothing slow. If you look at my posts over time you'll see clearly that this goes back at least a decade. This has been a slow process, primarily out of habit but also because of family and others who will be impacted. 

I worked through Islam for about seven years, five quite fervently, and ultimately walked away from that as an option on my own volition and because understanding as deeply as I could without leaping in realized it wasn't the path for me. I just couldn't move past Jesus though I didn't have the full depth of how He was understood in the Church. 

So there were some good years after walking away from that path but this didn't last as you can see from many of my posts. I don't want a cultural Christianity. I don't want politics with my Jesus, I don't want a cup of coffee with Jesus, a Mountain Dew with Jesus, ride a Harley for Jesus, or get His name tattooed on my skin, no hip Jesus, no cool Jesus, no macho Jesus, nothing.

I want Jesus straight, no chaser. 

And I want a more proper understanding of the Father, Son and Spirit, not some belief statement handed down and given lip service on a web page.

And I am finding freedom in this path and bondage in the other. 

We'll see where this leads...

The Name of Jesus

Having spent time in and still impacted by my time in a Oneness Pentecostal Church, I finally found some resolve this day of Easter. 

For those who don't know Oneness Pentecostals believe that God's name is Jesus. There is no Father, Son and Spirit as separate 'persons' but only in different manifestations. There was no pre-existent Jesus as the Word there was only the Word in the mind or thought (i.e. logos) of God. What pre-existed was His plan, not His Son. The 'Son' only began to exist at His incarnation (and, yes, Oneness Pentecostals believe in the Incarnation).

Their doctrine is slippery enough that they avoid tags of Nestorianism, Arianism and Sabellianism, among others.  They appear to follow the creeds or at least have a doctrine that allows them to reinterpret it to fit and they have the ability to utilize the words of the Church Fathers to support their doctrine.

While initially appearing to apply sound logic and reason there is a point at which it becomes more 'mystical' than the Trinitarian doctrine it seeks to undermine and upend.

I have been bathing in the Trinity for the past several years and it feels more home to me yet there are times where it bothers me that the Oneness doctrine seems to - and I emphasize seems to - make more sense, especially when it comes to the Name of Jesus. I say this because the Eastern Orthodox Church places great emphasis on this Name as well, to the point that it almost sounds Oneness.

While on a journey of discovery this morning, looking for the origins in the Psalms (through Athanasius' Letter to Marcellinus) of the Jesus Prayer, I found this: 

The Name of Yahweh is the Name: “Lord Jesus Christ.” We ought to remember that “Kyrios” is the LXX rendering of the Divine Name YHWH. When we pray “Lord Jesus Christ…” we are invoking the Name of Yahweh, now most fully revealed in “Lord Jesus Christ.”

I read it several times and it slowly dawned on me what is meant by this. The statement at first glance seems to say the same thing as Oneness doctrine. But upon closer reading (and the understanding that Eastern Orthodoxy is not Oneness and is fully Trinitarian) I realized that the letter word 'of' carries all the weight of that statement.

The Name of Yahweh is the Name: "Lord Jesus Christ."

'Of' is not identity in the sense of Oneness Pentecostalism. 'Of' identity in the sense of the fullness of revelation of the Godhead.

I have manifested thy name unto the men which thou gavest me out of the world: thine they were, and thou gavest them me; and they have kept thy word. (John 17:6)

'Of' is the 'begotten' of the Son. It is the 'of' that comes into the world to show us who God is. Jesus is not the Father, he is, if you will, the 'of' of the Father.  

Now of course we have the name of Jesus and the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit so the 'of' is not unique to the Name of Yaweh. This is simply a means of trying to grasp the difference between the Name of Jesus per Orthodoxy compared to Oneness doctrine. 

Exodus 3 says that Yahweh is the Name of Remembrance. That is, when you call out the Name of Yahweh, He will remember His covenant and act accordingly. In John, it is revealed that the Name of Remembrance in the New Covenant is “Jesus Christ.”

When you call out the Name of Jesus, God remembers His covenant and acts accordingly. All of the biblical freight about God revealing His Name and you calling it back to Him falls on the Holy Name of Jesus Christ.

His not revealing that Jesus is the name of God; he is revealing that in this Name is the full revelation of the Godhead. It's a subtle shift and I'm not quite sure I can fully find the words to understand what it is I am grasping it. The challenge isn't so much to justify and defend Trinitarianism (though it is), the challenge is to correctly understand what is meant by the Name. 

For Oneness believers, Jesus is God's name, period. That is the revelation.  And it is the Spirit (Jesus is another 'manifestation' or 'form') then who unleashes power on earth for signs, wonders, miracles and gifts. We don't look to a 'church' we look to the Spirit. 

For Orthodoxy, as best I understand it, the Name of Jesus is not the revelation of God's name as identity, i.e. 'God' is not called Jesus. It is in or through this name where we find God's revelation of Who He is. As much as we come to know Jesus - and this is the significance of the Eucharist - we come to know God. Whereas Orthodoxy emphasizes, and rightly so, the Eucharist, Oneness Pentecostals emphasize the Spirit with the Eucharist being secondary, if that. In fact, as I sit here, I can't recall whether or not we ever partook of the Eucharist.

In other words, as I see it, what Orthodoxy teaches has been lost over the eons and because of this it manifested as Oneness doctrine in the early 1900s in the United States. The loss of history has caused it to repeat itself.  

Though this is a Catholic website, this video here goes into good depth on this from a former Oneness believer (starting primarily around the 18 minute mark):

Travels Alone and Lost Memories

One of my biggest regrets, perhaps my only real regret, was not marking up the atlas I carried (remember, this was before smartphones) and, more importantly, keeping the actual atlas that accompanied my yearlong walkabout.

For the whole year I have three, maybe four, rolls of film. Pictures did not capture the journey and the journal(s) I kept is gibberish, more a hashing out of the madness in my head than it was about capturing the externals of my journey.  

So what's left is memory and my memory is growing faultier and dimmer each year, pricked only by reminders of 'Hey, I was there' when I see it in some medium and it fills me with a tinge of sadness that I had no one to share it with and lack the language or artifacts to display the experience.

It changed me but I lack the words to explain exactly how.

It reminds me of a particular line from this song (which is a significant song as I had a revelatory experience while lying on the floor high as can be digesting each lyrics as if she was singing it only to me; I was in love).

"But she knows this and she smiles
For she has miles and miles of memories all to herself
Everything in between then and now
And all the images of everything in between now and then
And all they have
Are pictures..."

Jenny I Read - Concrete Blonde

Brief, End of Year Recap

Just to put this out there. 

In October, we took a week's vacation, the closure of a 25 year journey in my life, to California, including a capstone visit to the top of Yosemite Falls.

On November 12th, the removal proceeding against my wife were terminated. We were two months away from a final court hearing when the work of five years drew to a close. 

Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend and the dreaded holiday season where my daughter put on a benefit show that taxed everyone involved, most notably my wife, the one who bears the brunt of the labor and emotional support. Keep in mind that last year, I was called 30 minutes before showtime to pay, on credit, the light and union labor in the amount of $8K. Stupid to pay? Perhaps. But it's done and I'm still paying without having received a dime in return. Thank God for 0% interest for 18 months.

The show, while excellent as always, did not meet expectations and so was an emotional jolt to those involved, especially my daughter. 

Fast forward toward the madness of Christmas. 

The week before Christmas I get an urgent text that I need to come as 'things got violent' between my daughter and her live-in boyfriend. After retrieving her and her three children, one which is biologically his with her, we learned the details of what has been happening the past three years.

We've witness it, we've sense it, we've vibed it but have had no tangible evidence until the emotions pushed it out of her. While it was a joy to have them all safe in our home for a week, they have since returned and things are back to that normalcy. And we are both devastated and terrified for her but, moreso, the twins who are gifted, sweet and innocent. We fear that will be lost in the midst of the dysfunction that is their relationship. 

While not unsympathetic to the damage that the sexual abuse they both suffered while young and its impact on their current adult self, the situation is dark, dark enough that the twins are seeing 'dark shadows' in their bedroom at night making things vanish. We fear for the worst though remain prayerful and trying to keep that connection with them, the twice monthly sleepovers at Nana and PopPop's house. 

Much, though not all, the family knows and she opted to avoid Christmas with the family altogether most likely out of shame though pinning the guilt on my wife. 

On New Year's Eve we called and the children, as always, were confined to their bedroom watching their television and eating junk food, though not at liberty to say what they were eating out of fear of reprisal from their mom, though driven by the fear of the man taking up residence in the house, because she knows better and because the children actually love tasty, healthy food.

Add to that some job insecurities with a good company and a solid, though aging, leadership team in a difficult industry with some top heavy expenses and 2020 is starting out in a blaze of glory.

On a positive note, my faith has deepened and though I haven't made the leap to form Orthodoxy, I have made the break with the 'evangelical' style of modern Christianity. While I can be fed there, though truthfully more often as 'personal growth' rather than deepening spirituality, I also leave about 90% of it behind, including much of the theology that drives it.

At 54 years of age, I'm curious to see where this is going.

Yet Shall I Praise Him

Things are not where I'd like them to be right now on many fronts. It's on thing when circumstances or situations aren't where we'd like them to be, it's another when people, individuals with their own free will who make their own choices, are involved.

Where people are, there is often pain, especially when the heart is involved. My reasoning brain understands that love means sacrifice but when it comes to pain in the heart I am woefully weak. Does that mean I am not truly giving of it or does that mean I don't give of it in a healthy manner? In other words, do I give with expectations and attachments?

If you've been here for a while you may have encountered me mentioning The Roots of Christian Mysticism by Oliver Clement.  Aside from the Bible and, perhaps, the Dao De Jing, no other book has been read as much by me. It changed my Christianity and has pushed me more toward the 'eastern' Christianity, the very same one toward which Hank Hanegraaf was drawn, found in Eastern Orthodoxy.

My goal for 2020 is to work the Psalms. Not all of them, just certain points, or even entire Psalms, of focus. Inspired by Patrick Henry Reardon through his book, Christ In The Psalms, my eyes were opened as to how Christ unlocks the mystery of the Psalms. Though they tackle all of what it means to be human, these are the human cries understood as of those of the Incarnate Christ in His humanity. Once this sunk on in it was as if the scale fell off my eyes.

As a declared Christian since 1996, it has been a challenged starting over, if you will, I have 20 years of knowledge, both schooling and self-study, and it has created this edifice that is often difficult to penetrate as my brain tends to go toward the the history, the linguistics, the language, the meaning and all the other 'technical' aspects of Scripture. I also throw up roadblocks by what I see as a lot of 'feel good' religion, those daily greatest hits, that show up in your inbox.

But I am choosing to work on surrender, to allow the scars and the wounds and the protective hedges to come down and allow the Spirit to do the deep work. I say all of that as on this day, the last of 2019, because this passage from Augustine in Clement's invaluable work continues to resonate and was one in which I will find myself swimming. It is worth quoting in full to get the rhythm and the feel for those last few sentences.

"I sought the substance [of God] in myself, as if it were similar to what I am; and I did not find it. I sense then that God is well beyond my soul. To touch him then, 'I pondered on these things and I stretched out my soul above itself'. How in fact could my soul reach what it needs to look for beyond itself if it did not stretch out above itself ? If my soul were to remain within itself it would not see anything but itself and, within itself, it would not see its God...

'I stretched out my soul beyond myself' and only my God remains for me to grasp. It is there, in fact, above my soul, that the dwelling of my God is. That is where he dwells, from there he sees me, from there he created me . . . from there he raises me up and calls me, from there he guides me and steers me into harbour. He who dwells in the highest heavens in an invisible abode possesses also a tabernacle on earth. His tabernacle is his Church still on its journey. It is there he must be sought because in the tabernacle is found the way that leads to his abode. Actually when I stretched out my soul above myself to reach my God, why did I do it?

'Because I will enter into the place of the tabernacle', the marvellous tabernacle, even to the house of God...The tabernacle of God on earth is made up of faithful people...The prophet [David] entered the tabernacle and from there arrived at the house of God. While he was marvelling at the saints, who are as it were different parts of this tabernacle, he was led to the house of God, carried away by a certain delight, a kind of secret charm, as though from the house of God were coming the bewitching sounds of a musical instrument. He walked in the tabernacle and hearing this music within, whose sweetness drew him on, he set himself to follow what he heard...and he arrived at the house of God...How did you come to the secret of that abode? 

The reply: amidst songs of gladness and praise, amidst the joyful harmonies of the holiday-makers...in the house of God it is always a holiday...it is celebrated by the choirs of angels, and the face of God, seen unveiled, gives rise to a joy beyond description. There is no beginning to that day of festival, nor any end. Of this eternal festivity some ineffable sound is heard in the ears of the heart, provided that no human noise is mixed with it. The harmony of that festival enchants the ear of anyone who is walking in this tabernacle and contemplating the marvels that God has worked for the redemption of the faithful. It leads the hart to the waterbrooks. 

But we see God from a distance. Our body that is doomed to corruption weighs our soul down and our spirit is troubled by many thoughts. Sometimes, spurred on by the longing that scatters the vain images that surround us, we succeed in hearing those divine sounds...However, since we are weighed down by our heaviness we soon fall back into our habitual ways. We let ourselves be dragged back to our usual way of living. And just as when we drew near to God we found joy, so when we fall back to earth we have reason to groan. 

'Why art thou so heavy, 0 my soul: and why art thou so disquieted within me?' We have just tasted a secret sweetness, we have just been able with the fine point of the spirit to glimpse, very briefly, it is true, and in a flash only, the life that does not change. Why then are you still distressed? Why this sadness? You do not doubt your God. You are not at a loss for an answer to those who ask you, 'Where is your God?' Already I have had a foretaste of the immutable. Why are you still distressed? Hope in God. 

And the soul replies in secret: 'Why am I in distress, unless it is because I am not yet in that abode where this sweetness into whose bosom I was fleetingly transported is for ever enjoyed? Can I perhaps from now on drink from this fountain without fear?...Am I even now secure against all my inordinate desires? Are they tamed and vanquished? Is not the devil, my enemy, on the watch for me? And you would have me untroubled while I am still exiled from God's house!' 

Then...the reply comes: 'Hope in God. While awaiting heaven find your God here below in hope... Why hope? Because I shall witness to him. What witness will you give? That he is my God, the health of my countenance. My health cannot come to me from myself. I will proclaim it, I will bear witness to it: My God is the health of my countenance...' Augustine of Hippo, Commentary on Psalm 41 [42] (PL 3 6,464-7)

Or, to quote Psalm 42 from the KJV:

"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance." (v. 5)

After the plea for help, the remedy:

"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God." (v. 11) 

As Sister Joseph, one of the moms of the church in which I was baptized always reminded me and whose Trinidadian accented voice proclaims:

'Keep pressing!' 

The Cycle Of Abuse

My daughter, along with her three kids, spent the week with us last week. Let's just say that a frantic phone call early Sunday morning drove that to happen. Two wounded people in a highly dysfunctional relationship, emotionally and mentally stagnant due to past trauma, both in grown up bodies with grown up responsibilities. 

The children suffer. As a grandparent, it is quite obvious to see the signs of this in their changing behavior. Jumping on furniture, not listening, running around like crazy or the opposite, withdrawing and saying things such as 'I'm stupid' out loud about themselves. It's gut wrenching.

My daughter moved back home when she found out she was pregnant a little over six years ago. She was on bed rest for 19 solid weeks and we made sure she was ok. The little miracle babies, the twins, were born at 32 weeks to the day. After a brief stint in the NICU they stayed with us for the next two years.

And it was glorious. I have never connected with babies on that level and they are more dear to my heart than most anything I've ever experienced so I am not used to this level of pain thinking that they may not be happy or, worse, may be in danger.

It's one thing when two grown adults, both emotionally damaged, are struggling but it is another when children are involved and the cycle of abuse is clearly seen and it seems out of my hands to do anything to prevent it from happening. It's enraging and causes me to question more things than I care to admit.

It also reveals to me how attached I am. One of the goals of any spiritual path is non-attachment (apatheia, according to the Church Fathers). This doesn't mean not caring, it means not attaching one's self to the results which, when it comes down to it, is idolatrous which is why we do not feel peace when things aren't going as we'd like them to go.

I'm not sure at this point what the solution is. All I know is it hurts like hell and I've never felt pain like this before. By clinging, the pain intensifies. How does one 'let go' in a situation like this?

"The only thing that burns in hell, Is the part of you that won't let go of your life. Your memories, your attachements, They burn'em all away. But they're not punishing you he said,... They're freeing your soul."

Signs, Signs, Everywhere The Signs

So why can't I make the leap? Grandkids? Wife? Don't feel like dealing with the evangelicals/charismatics in the family? Not up to debate? Too much effort, more easy to be a 'passive' Orthodox believer without the commitment? 

Not sure. All I know is the more I listen to these sermons the more I know that I am aligned with th't is theology and not that of the 'modern' church.  The excitement, the rock concert (or rave) vibe. the enthusiasm that is equated with "true" worship is not my thing. 

When a pastor calls for everyone to raise their hands or raise their voices to show God our "true" worship I usually do the opposite. I'm not one to do something just because someone tells me to do it. I don't always want to talk about God, God, God as after a while it ceases to lose its import. 

After five years of immigration battling when someone says 'look what God did' I am initially irritated. Not that I don't believe it but that this whole thing short changes the how of it all. I put in the hours and hours of work and stress and effort, guided perhaps by His hand (or He cleans up my mis-steps), but there is no snapping of fingers and it is suddenly done. 

I want to get into the minutiae of what took place. That, to me, is where God 'does' what He does. I am often accused of taking the credit but the opposite is true: I like to think of myself as a pliable instrument. "I" am doing the work here in the flesh but behind it all is the mystery of His machinations toward an expected end, though often that end is different than our expected end. 

This is not a name it and claim theology, at least not without the work. Perhaps we envision the end and move toward that end but this isn't a claim it and sit back. If anything. that 'naming' gives us the goal toward which we must strive. We may rest in Him but the work is done by us. 

I think I am averse to this whole 'American' Christian culture so perhaps the appeal of Orthodoxy is the fact that it is old and unchanging but I would argue it is the depth of the theology, of the tradition, which has been passed down (and not 'tradition' as empty ritual), that is appealing. 

It goes so much deeper than that of the pop theology that gets blurred with modern day self-help messages, where the goal of the faith is self-serving. There is no 'death' in much of modern Christian teaching. 

I am effectively done with the the 'popular' Christian faith and though it may have its merits it simply does not hold my interest and I find solace in the writing of the Fathers and the messages of such priests as Patrick Reardon and John Behr. 

Everything Happens For A Reason

My wife and I got into a, uh, discussion the other night about the statement, often well intended, that 'everything happens for a reason.'

I personally cannot stand the statement. Acts of heinous disregard for the value of human life all happen for a reason? Absurd, especially if we are Christian (though truth be told many Christians fall prey to this without giving the statement much thought).

The 'everything happens for a reason' statement if we are not careful makes it sound as if God planned for someone to be murdered, killed in a car crash or far, far worse, as if it was all pre-planned. Again, on that assumption it is absurd.

I hold to the view that we were created in the image of God, i.e. we are created in Christ. Christ is what it means to be truly human; we find our reality in Him. However, as fallen creatures, we are subject to sin and the darkness that is in the world. It is this that leads to the all the heinous and hideous activities we see around us; it is not God that does, or causes, this.

So 'everything happens for a reason' needs to be qualified. I refuse to believe that in the plan of God I would be sexually traumatized at a very young age which would send me spiraling down the path of addiction for decades. 

Did He know this? That is a different question. I don't know that He knows as we know but I would say that if He knows all then all possibilities are already present in Him. There is no deliberation in Him, all things, all possibilities, already exist.  Does this destroy free will? I don't believe so. I believe we have the ability to choose freely but we are limited in the choices we make based on how we are constituted. 

And our choices continue to 'collapse the wave function' of other choices. The infinitude of possible choices becomes further and further restricted with each choice we make.

Until we meet Christ. He introduces us to the unlimited possibilities of humanity. Not our humanity, fundamentally flawed, but a humanity that transcends death. We can taste of this here and now in Him but it gives us a hope in the possibility of a future beyond this mortal coil.

I would put the statement something like this: things happen and then we find a reason. Or, more theologically, things happen and the Father, as a loving Father does, has our back and what was intended for evil works for good. 

As for the 'why' of things happening. I admit this is the biggest challenge of all as we may truthfully never know. If knowing the 'why' is required for our healing we may be slow to heal and even when we do know it doesn't always help.

It is only when we find ourselves resting in Him, allowing His life to work through us, that we begin to heal and in healing we move toward becoming whole. 

Immigration, Five Years Later. Inadmissible, Removal, Terminated.

My wife and I were fortunate enough to go on a dream vacation in February/March of 2015 to Bristol, England and Lille, France. We traveled around with a friends and family for a solid two weeks and visited Brugge, Bath and Cardiff. Trip of a lifetime. I'll start with the end to get to the beginning.

Upon re-entering the United States, my wife, who is a green card holder, was flagged at Customs. I knew something was wrong instantly when it took longer than I am used to having traveled international many time before. When two other uniformed customs agents walked up and asked her to come with them I knew something was very wrong.

She was whisked away to a room near the baggage reclaim area and I was given some government speak about why. Completely baffled. So I waited. And waited. And waited for what seemed like hours. I would occasionally get a quick peek in between the slats of the Venetian blinds but it was no help.

Once or twice someone would pop out and I'd ask what's going on but was each time given the same government speak.

Finally, after several hours she was released. She was not detained but was deemed inadmissible for what we would later learn were charges, both misdemeanors in the eyes of civil law, from 30 years ago. Two misdemeanors of 'crimes involving moral turpitude' (aka CIMT) render a green card holder inadmissible. 

Here's what we learned: a green card holder is technically reapplying for re-entry into the country having traveled abroad. As opposed to a US Passport holder who is free to come and go, a green card holder is not a citizen and is therefore placed under scrutiny. Two misdemeanors 30 years old renders a permanent resident who has been in the country for 36 years inadmissible. 

And while she was not detained permanently, the inadmissible charge flagged removal proceeding against her. 

We had been married 15 years at the time and, for reasons I'll try and explain later, we never went far in attempting naturalization for her. One of the many things we learned is that marriage does not automatically grant someone citizenship. We never gave it any thought but for many, maybe even most, of the people I've talked to about this they are always puzzled operating on the assumption that marriage grants citizenship.

Nope. It's just a different checkbox on the naturalization application. It may help but it's not automatic. 

So a permanent resident of 36 years, whose parents naturalized, with a marriage of 15 years and a successful entrepreneur in the local community is suddenly told she is not worthy enough to obtain re-entry.

Once you learn the travails of our 'how not to travel' adventure you'll understand the devastation this wrought and with it the education in how the immigration system works which of course sheds a different prism on the media and government narrative of attempts being made at fixing the immigration 'problem' which is but of our own making.

I'll provide deeper details once I get a certain later in the mail but the novel worthy adventure is not over.

Stay tuned...

Closure

25 years ago I had a 'peak' experience - substance free - at the top of Yosemite Falls. After several months on the road and 26 years of bottled emotions, a catharsis came. I fully experienced, for a few hours at the top of Yosemite Falls, what the mystics call the 'oneness of being.' 

I knew of it intellectually; I had now tasted of it experientially. It was brief as was the bliss and ecstasy at having completed the hike which to seasoned travelers was strenuous, certainly, but just a drop in the bucket compared to the grandeur of the remainder of the park.

My wife and I traveled to California to visit someone whose life had intersected mine after a 20 year journey - he, along with Christopher McCandless and Robert Pirsig, had, unbeknownst to me, traveled the same terrain as I - and we spent the balance of the week on the east part of the state.

One of the reasons, and a certain denouement for me and peak experience for my wife, was to re-hike to the top of Yosemite Falls to see if I could touch the image of that earlier experience.  And we did, now 25 years older. 3.2 miles vertical via switchbacks and 3 1/2 hours later we arrived. 

Curiously, I felt nothing. Not in a negative sense just no rush of flashbacks. It did not look familiar, unable to compete with the image I had bowed down to for all these years. As we walked the terrain up top it slowly came back but with the river dried up I had little frame of reference.

As Johnette Napolitano sang, though in different context, the 'images of everything between now and then' found closure. Complete closure. I am at peace. 

Life is made up of moments and it is those moments that sustain us. 

God's Sense Of Humor

Just when I thought I couldn't take another day, I had a total and complete meltdown letting the 'F' bombs fly at will. While they feel good at first launch, the aftershock isn't so sweet. 

Rather than communicating what I feel or making peace with it through prayer or meditation, I let it build and build in hopes that maybe it will work itself out. And then it doesn't. And then I crash.

And the very next day, once it's out, those little 'signs' show themselves, God's little jab to say, 'Chill, rest in Me' (a la Psalm 46:10, my favorite Scripture).

Pain Points Us Toward Faith

God will allow us to wander and stray on our own and we can cruise along loosely thinking we're good until something happens.

Our 13 year old Golden Retriever is starting to show her age and we know a hard decision is coming soon. She has moments of falling down, lays around the house for much of the day and the responsiveness and alertness is fading.

She'll have moments where the energy returns - rolling in the grass, playing fetch as best she can - but those moments are getting farther and farther apart.

Driving to work this morning I just couldn't listen to my usual shuffle of songs and specifically put on some Israel Houghton, songs that have a specific context of worship in church, and while I didn't break down and cry I could feel the release coming. 

There is something about worship that does set us free, something that sets our spirit higher.

I know what's coming soon and it hurts as much as it has for the four other dogs that have been a staple of my life over time since the day I was born. 

As Robert Pirsig in his book Lila wrote, with a line that has always resonated with me:

…They were all walking down the road … when one of those raggedy nondescript dogs that call Indian reservations home came onto the road and walked pleasantly in front of them … [the woman] asked John ‘What kind of dog is that?’. John thought about it and said, ‘That’s a good dog.’… The woman …wanted to know what genetic, substantive pigeonhole of canine classification this object walking before them could be placed in. But John Wooden Leg never understood the question. He wasn’t joking when he said ‘That’s a good dog’.

A Light Peers Through

Work done on the sinkhole and the downspouts on the side of the house. 

Picking up some documents today for the other issue in play, updates to follow.

Learning to just breathe.