Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Lent, Day Fifteen: Dust in the Wind




Holy and  good and generous God,
     It is the day of the ashes,
     and I am reminded that my life
     on earth will end,
     and could end at any moment.
But I am alive, made of dust,
     breathing the air you give me.
Thank you for the dust that is me
     and the air that sustains me.
May I more and more
     be sustained by your Spirit
     and less by the things of the earth.


It is interesting to me to see what I wrote on Ash Wednesday over a decade ago, when I had just begun to realize and understand what Ash Wednesday and Lent were and what they meant.

I did not know that that same year would usher in the period of five deaths in less than six months of people I loved. I could not know how deeply I would experience the sense of transience that I expressed in the poem.

"All we are is dust in the wind." The song by Kansas, much as I enjoy hearing its music and the expressiveness of the lyrics, is a pretty sad, hopeless song. It leaves you with the feeling that it's better to just not think about the fact that life will end, because it's all pointless.

"Nothin' lasts forever but the earth and sky." I guess you could say here is where I take a different turn from the song. Because I believe a lot lasts forever besides the earth and sky. . . like God, and love, and joy, and souls, and memories, and meaning, and relationships between formed-from-dust people formed here on this planet of dust and water. And if these things last, they are certainly worth hanging on to, in fact, worth pursuing, even though the song says, "Now don't hang on...."

The word for spirit and wind is the same (well, I should say the words are the same, since it holds true in both Hebrew and Greek) in the ancient languages of scripture. And if I think of the Holy Spirit as the wind, then I cannot think of anything more meaningful and desirable than to be "dust in the wind."

(The photo above came via this website. http://peterlachnewinsky.wordpress.com/2011/10/26/dust-ode/ 
I found plenty of photos of dust in the wind in various forms searching the Internet, but was most drawn to this one. Wouldn't you know, it was used to accompany another poem about ashes and dust? )

Monday, March 17, 2014

Lent, Day Thirteen: Fasting Alone in the Desert

I didn't grow up in a culture of fasting. We read about it in the Bible, but I don't know if anyone in my world of people actually fasted. I was in college before it became a topic of actual practical significance, and I knew people who did it, and I began learning about it and doing it, too.

The article below comes from an Orthodox blog that I really like, and a good friend made sure I saw this particular post. I highly recommend it. Fasting alone is not nearly as helpful as fasting alongside others and with the wisdom of the ages accompanying you.


Few things are as difficult in the modern world as fasting. It is not simply the action of changing our eating habits that we find problematic - it’s the whole concept of fasting and what it truly entails. It comes from another world.
We understand dieting - changing how we eat in order to improve how we look or how we feel. But changing how we eat in order to know God or to rightly keep a feast of the Church - this is foreign. Our first question is often, “How does that work?” For we live in a culture of utility - we want to know the use of things. Underneath the question of utility is the demand that something make sense to me, and that I be able to ultimately take charge of it, use it as I see fit and shape it according to my own desires. Perhaps the fast could be improved?
Our modern self-understanding sees people primarily as individual centers of choice and decision. A person is seen as the product of their choices and decisions - our lives are self-authenticated. As such, we are managers.
Of course there are many problems with this world-view from the perspective of Classical Christianity. Though we are free to make choices and decisions, our freedom is not unlimited. The largest part of our lives is not self-determined. Much of the rhetoric of modernity is aimed towards those with wealth and power. It privileges their stories and mocks the weakness of those without power with promises that are rarely, if ever, fulfilled.
Our lives are a gift from God and not of our own making. The Classical Christian spiritual life is not marked by choice and self-determination: it is characterized by self-emptying and the way of the Cross.
When a modern Christian confronts the season of Lent - the question often becomes: “What do I want to give up for Lent?” The intention is good, but the question is wrong. Lent quickly becomes yet another life-choice, a consumer’s fast.
The practice of the traditional fast has been greatly diminished over the past few centuries. The Catholic Church has modified its requirements and streamlined Lenten fasting (today it includes only abstaining from meat on the Fridays of Lent - which makes them similar to all the other Fridays of the year). The Protestant Churches that observe the season of Lent offer no formal guidelines for Lenten practice. The individual is left on their own.
Orthodoxy continues to have in place the full traditional fast, which is frequently modified in its application (the “rules” themselves are generally recognized as written for monastics). It is essentially a vegan diet (no meat, fish, wine, dairy). Some limit the number of meals and their manner of cooking. Of course, having the fast in place and “keeping the fast” are two very different things. I know of no study on how Orthodox in the modern world actually fast. My pastoral experience tells me that people generally make a good effort.
Does any of this matter? Why should Christians in the modern world concern themselves with a traditional practice?
What is at stake in the modern world is our humanity. The notion that we are self-authenticating individuals is simply false. We obviously do not bring ourselves in existence - it is a gift. And the larger part of what constitutes our lives is simply a given - a gift. It is not always a gift that someone is happy with - they would like themselves to be other than they are. But the myth of the modern world is that we, in fact, do create ourselves and our lives - our identities are imagined to be of our own making. We are only who we choose to be. It is a myth that is extremely well-suited for undergirding a culture built on consumption. Identity can be had at a price. The wealthy have a far greater range of identifies available to them - the poor are largely stuck with being who they really are.
But the only truly authentic human life is the one we receive as a gift from God. The spirituality of choice and consumption under the guise of freedom is an emptiness. The identity we create is an ephemera, a product of imagination and the market. The habits of the marketplace serve to enslave us - Lent is a call to freedom.
 A Modern Lent
Thus, a beginning for a modern Lent is to repent from the modern world itself. By this, I mean renouncing the notion that you are a self-generated, self-authenticating individual. You are not defined by your choices and decisions, much less by your career and your shopping. You begin by acknowledging that God alone is Lord (and you are not). Your life has meaning and purpose only in relation to God. The most fundamental practice of such God-centered living is the giving of thanks.
Renounce trying to improve yourself and become something. You are not a work in progress. If you are a work - then you are God’s work. “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in” (Eph 2:10).
Do not plan to have a “good Lent” or imagine what a “good Lent” would be. Give up judging - especially judging yourself. Get out of the center of your world. Lent is not about you. It is about Christ and His Pascha.
Fast according to the Tradition instead of according to your own ideas and designs. This might be hard for some if they are not part of the traditional Church and thus have no fasting tradition. Most Catholics have differing rules for fasting than the Orthodox. If you’re Catholic, fast like a Catholic. Don’t admire other people’s fasting.
If you’re Protestant but would like to live more traditionally, think about becoming Orthodox. Short of that, covenant with others (family, friends) to keep the traditional fast. Don’t be too strict or too lenient, and if possible keep the fast in a manner that is mutually agreed rather than privately designed. Be accountable but not guilty.
Pray. Fasting without praying is called “the Fast of Demons,” because demons never eat, but they never pray. We fast as a means of drawing closer to God. Your fasting and your prayer should be balanced as much as possible. If you fast in a strict manner, then you should pray for extended periods. If you fast lightly, then your prayers may be lighter as well. The point is to be single - for prayer and fasting to be a single thing.
To our prayer and fasting should be added mercy (giving stuff away, especially money). You cannot be too generous. Your mercy should be as invisible as possible to others, except in your kindness to all. Spend less, give away more.
Eating, drinking, praying and generosity are very natural activities. Look at your life. How natural is your eating? Is your diet driven by manufactured, processed foods (especially as served in restaurants and fast food places)? These can be very inhuman ways of eating. Eating should take time. It is not a waste of time to spend as much as six hours in twenty-four preparing, sharing, eating and cleaning up. Even animals take time to eat.
Go to Church a lot more (if your Church has additional Lenten services, go to them). This can be problematic for Protestants, in that most Protestant worship is quite modern, i.e. focused on the individual rather than directed to God, well-meant but antithetical to worship. If your Church isn’t boring, it’s probably modern. This is not to say that Classical Christianity is inherently boring - it’s just experienced as such by people trained to be consumers. Classical Christianity worships according to Tradition and focuses its attention on God. It is not there for you to “get something out of it.”
Entertain yourself less. In traditional Orthodox lands, amusements are often given up during the Lenten period. This can be very difficult for modern people in that we live to consume and are thus caught in a cycle of pain and pleasure. Normal pleasures such as exercise or walking are not what I have in mind - although it strikes me as altogether modern that there should be businesses dedicated to helping us do something normal (like walking or exercising), such that even our normal activities become a commodity to consume.
Fast from watching/reading the news and having/expressing opinions. The news is not presented in order to keep you informed. It is often inaccurate and serves the primarypurpose of political propaganda and consumer frenzy. Neither are good for the soul. Opinions are deeply destructive to the soul’s health. Opinions are not properly considered, necessary beliefs. They are passions that pass themselves off as thoughts or beliefs. The need to express them reveals their passionate nature.
I could well imagine that a modern person, reading through such a list, might feel overwhelmed and wonder what is left. What is left is being human. That so much in our lives is not particularly human but an ephemeral distraction goes far to explain much of our exhaustion and anxiety. There is no food  for us in what is not human.
And so the words of Isaiah come to mind:
Ho! Everyone who thirsts, Come to the waters; And you who have no money, Come, buy and eat. Yes, come, buy wine and milk Without money and without price. Why do you spend money for what is not bread, And your wages for what does not satisfy? Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good, And let your soul delight itself in fatness (Isa 55:1-2).
“Let your soul delight itself in fatness...” the irony of Lent.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Lent, Day Nine: A Difficult Prayer (that Brings Rest to Your Soul)



I often pray to see clearly, to see people and things the way God sees them.

Christview Ministry Center's name is about learning to see Christ. But it's also true that if we learn to see Christ, we begin to see life differetly, to view life as Christ does.

I've shared this prayer before and have decided it is worth sharing each year at Lent. Maybe it will help you if you are also wanting to learn to see life differently.

(This came to me by way of a blogger friend at Pentimento,
who said it was written by Servant of God Merry del Val.)



O Jesus meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed,
From the desire of being loved,
From the desire of being extolled,
From the desire of being honored,
From the desire of being praised,
From the desire of being preferred to others,
From the desire of being consulted,
From the desire of being approved,
Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated,
From the fear of being despised,
From the fear of suffering rebukes,
From the fear of being calumniated,
From the fear of being forgotten,
From the fear of being ridiculed,
From the fear of being wronged,
From the fear of being suspected,
Deliver me, Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I,
That others may be esteemed more than I,
That in the opinion of the world, others may increase, and I may decrease,
That others may be chosen and I set aside,
That others may be praised and I unnoticed,
That others may be preferred to me in everything,
That others may become holier than I, provided that I become as holy as I should,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it. Amen.






Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Lent, Day Seven: The Relinquished Life



No one is ever united with Jesus Christ until he is willing to relinquish not sin only,
but his whole way of looking at things.
To be born from above of the Spirit of God means that we must let go before we lay hold,
and in the first stages it is the relinquishing of all pretense.
What our Lord wants us to present to him is not goodness,
not honesty,
not endeavor,
but real, solid sin;
that is all he can take from us.
And what does he give in exchange for our sin?
Real, solid righteousness.
But we must relinquish all pretense of being anything,
all claim of being worthy of God's consideration.

Then the Spirit of God will show us what further there is to relinquish.
There will have to be the relinquishing of my claim to my right to myself in every phase.
Am I willing to relinquish my hold on all I possess,
my hold on my affections,
and on everything,
and to be identified with the death of Jesus Christ?

There is always a sharp, painful disillusionment to go through before we do relinquish.
When one really sees himself as the Lord sees him,
it is not the abominable sins of the flesh that shock him,
but the awful nature of the pride of his own heart against Jesus Christ.
When he sees himself in the light of the Lord,
the shame and the horror and the desperate conviction come home.
If you are up against the question of relinquishing,
go through the crisis,
relinquish all,
and God will make you fit for all He requires of you. . . . 

These words (Galatians 2:20) mean the breaking of my own independence with my own hand
and surrendering to the supremacy of the Lord Jesus.
No on can do this for me, I must do it myself.
God may bring me up to the point three hundred and sixty-five times a year,
but he cannot put me through it.
It means breaking the husk of my individual independence of God,
and the emancipating of my personality into oneness with himself,
not for my own sake,
but for absolute loyalty to Jesus.
There is no possibility of dispute when once I am there.
Very few of us know anything about loyalty to Christ--"For my sake."
It is that which makes the iron saint.

~ excerpted from Oswald Chambers,
in Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter

~photo from Spring Hill College Jesuit Cemetery, Mobile, Alabama

Sunday, March 09, 2014

Lent, Day Five


This is the room I stayed in a few years ago in a convent/guest house in Assisi. I was reminded of it tonight while watching the beautiful film Into Great Silence, a documentary about the life of Carthusian monks of the Grande Chartreuse monastery in the French Alps. My little room was modernized, albeit small and simple. (You can see that my suitcase would not even allow the cabinet door to close....and what you see is the entire room, from the doorway.)



The Grande Chartreuse monastery rooms looked a bit more like this one, however, which is from a Franciscan monastery in Fiesole, above Florence, Italy. (These rooms are no longer used, as it  has become a museum.)

Lent is here. For those who choose to participate, it is a very special time. I have a couple of friends who have confided to me, thinking they are strange for saying it, that Lent is one of their favorite times of the year--and are happy to hear me say, "Mine, too." I don't know how it will go, but I hope to share more thoughts on Lent over the next few weeks. I won't be joining a monastery, but I do hope to focus this time on more intentional spiritual discipline, as my life is in great need of that, having been spread far and wide the past year or more.

If you haven't seen Into Great Silence, I would encourage you to find it, set aside three hours, and watch it. Be sure to watch it all the way to the end. And don't watch it when you are tired, as it does require energy and focus. (It features a lot of silence--beautiful, calm, transcendent silence.) I hope if you do, it will help you focus on growing your spirit, whether you "do" Lent or not.

One of the themes you can't help but hear in the film is that giving up self, losing one's life out of love for God, ultimately leads to beauty and profound gratitude.


Spiritual energy, spiritual activity, spiritual eloquence. . .do not come from ecstasy
but from a humbly grateful heart.
Forgiveness of sins is what the gospel is all about.
Forgiveness of sins is what Christ's death upon the cross is all about.
The purpose of Lent is to arouse. To arouse the sense of sin. To arouse a sense of guilt for sin.
To arouse the humble contrition for the guilt of sin that makes forgiveness possible.
To arouse the sense of gratitude for the forgiveness of sins.
To arouse or to motivate the works of love and the work for justice that one does
out of gratitude for the forgiveness of one's sins.



Lent is not a tediously long brooding over sin.
Lent is a journey that could be called an upward descent,
but I prefer to call it a downward ascent.
It ends before the cross,
where we stand in the white light of a new beginning.


 ~excerpted from Edna Hong,
in Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter,
crucifix from a small church in Vicenza, Italy, whose name I cannot recall,
cross below from Kristova Crkva in Zagreb, Croatia




Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Signs of Spring



I found my first daffodils of the year yesterday. Almost missed them, as they were tucked away in the woods, off the beaten path.






But I did see them. And my heart danced a little dance of hope. It has been a long, cold winter. Two winters in a row, really. I don't even remember the past spring. A blur of wintry storm and blazing summer heat fill my mind when I think of last year, even though I know the spring did come between the two.






In Narnia, the White Witch made winter last unnaturally long. Sometimes life is like that, and it seems the ice will never melt, the green will never come, there will be no more flowers.

But in Narnia Aslan came, and he made things right, and the ice did melt, and life resumed the way it was meant to be. The frozen came back to life.

And I've lived long enough now to trust that spring will always come. To trust that even though I may endure some very long winters (stretching me so that I come closer to understanding an eternity perspective, perhaps?), God keeps promises, and new life will always come, no matter how frozen or dark or lifeless I may feel inside.







As long as the earth endures,
    seedtime and harvest, cold and heat,
summer and winter, day and night,
    shall not cease.

~ Genesis 8:22





Let us know, let us press on to know the LORD; his appearing is as sure as the dawn; he will come to us like the showers, like the spring rains that water the earth.


~Hosea 6:3







. . . let no flower of spring pass us by.

~Wisdom 2:7







". . . and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away."

And the one who was seated on the throne said, "See I am making all things new." Also he said, "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true."

~Revelation 21:3b-5


Sunday, February 02, 2014

Candlemas




It's dark and cold and wet outside. A good day for candles inside. And today is Candlemas, which, I've seen on calendars for some years but only recently learned refers to the day that Mary and Joseph took Jesus to the Temple, and Anna and Simeon testified to this Light coming into the world. As early as the latter part of the fourth century the church in Jerusalem was celebrating this day, according to a pilgrim who traveled there from Bordeaux, a woman named Egeria who kept a journal of her experience (that you can read here, if interested.)

In churches that celebrate the day, candles are an important part of the service, with every person in the procession carrying one, representing the Light of Christ entering the Temple.

Of course since electricity came along (and I'm not complaining), we have largely lost the sense of dependency on fire as a source of both heat and light. Candles are largely a decorative item for us. But how beautiful it must have been in the middle of winter in 380-something A.D., to go to church and see lots and lots of candles, even to carry one yourself, in a procession for the very purpose of remembering that the Light of God had come into the world as a human, and was spreading from person to person, lighting up the darkness.

Especially in the years after the fall of Rome, when the darkness must have seemed even darker than before, I wonder what it was like for people on this day and other special days--and of course every Sunday was a special day--as they tenaciously held onto their candles, whether literal or figurative, holding onto what they had been told, that Light had come into the darkness, that the darkness was not the final reality.

Most musical settings of Simeon's song use the older language, which I happen to believe is beautiful, having sung it many times.

Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant
depart in peace
according to Thy Word,
for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation
which Thou hast prepared
before the face of all people.
To be a Light to light on the Gentiles
And to be the glory of Thy people Israel.
Glory be to the Father
And to the Son
And to the Holy Ghost,
As it was the beginning,
Is now and ever shall be,
World without end. Amen.


+++++

Nunc Dimittis
by John Shephard (1515-1559)

(The photo is of candles in the cathedral of Milan, from my trip in 2008.)

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Asparagus Dressed in Dew

I was standing at the counter, taking celery out of its bag to put it in a storage box. At some point between taking it in my hand and cutting the tips off, I had a flashback to life at an earlier point in time, a vivid sensory memory of asparagus growing in my daddy's garden and of seeing it in the earlier part of the morning while it was covered in dew.

It has been many years since those memories could have been made, but I remembered with great depth of feeling how beautiful it was, how I loved to get out there early enough to see the asparagus in the morning. How it seemed like an enchanted time and place to be there with it, to know that only now and here could that beauty be encountered. An hour earlier it would have been hidden in darkness. A half hour later it would be gone.

Sort of a funny thing, to come almost out of nowhere like that. Celery is green and long, so I suppose the connection makes some sense. But what is stranger to me is that I haven't seen asparagus growing for over thirty years, I couldn't even remember just what it looked like. Green and delicate were the impressions that came to mind--and feathery, airy. Someting about spider webs. And something like magical.

I remember that when I was growing up in smalltown and rural Arkansas, I would sometimes think, as I helped weed the garden or pick its produce, about what I would grow in my garden when I grew up. I don't think it occurred to me then that I might not even have a garden, or that there were people who didn't. It was just, "What will I have in my garden someday?"

And I knew asparagus would have to be in it. Even though I also knew that Daddy said it never did very well and probably needed sandier soil or a cooler climate, or something like that. I remember thinking that it didn't matter at all to me whether or not the asparagus could be eaten. I wanted to grow it just so I could come in the mornings and see it in the pale light with the dew on it.

As I stood there stringing and chopping the celery that didn't go into the box, I thought these things, and I wondered if I were simply enchanted by the asparagus because of my youth and tendency toward romanticism, or if they would still strike as so beautiful. (Ha, I said "they…." in Italian, as with spaghetti, "asparagi" are plural….I once had a pizza in Sorrento, pizza agli asparagi….)

I wondered, could I possibly find pictures of asparagus with dew on them? Because I certainly have no way to take any such pictures.

I went to the search engine and entered "asparagus with dew"--and would you believe I found pictures. Even a blogpost. You can see it here, and I strongly encourage you to, especially if you have never seen dew on asparagus, or if you have and like me have not seen it again for many years.

Apparently I am not the only one to have marveled at this phenomenon. I'm sure this blogger and I are not alone, either. Anyone who has been out early enough to see it could hardly help noticing how beautiful it is.

Time prevents a long discussion on what beauty is, and how it comes to be that the world is so full of beauty, and that we human beings are cognizant of it, that we remember something for decades simply because it struck us with its beauty. I think these are fascinating things to think about. And important.

But for now I just encourage you to look at the pictures and enjoy the beauty of asparagus in dew.

(And I feel I should add re. the paragraph above, that I did not help my dad nearly as much as I should have in the garden!)



Sunday, January 05, 2014

Poem to Start a New Week and to End the Christmas Season



I have no original thoughts. (Do any of us, really?) But today is the last day of Christmas and it is also Sunday, and this is a wonderful poem that relates to Incarnation and communion/Eucharist/Lord's Supper, and it has been in my mind all week, so I will share it here.

(The photo is from an old chapel on the grounds of Spring Hill College, in Mobile, Alabama.)


By George Herbert.

Love (III)

Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
                              Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
                             From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
                             If I lacked any thing.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
                             Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
                             I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
                             Who made the eyes but I?

Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
                             Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
                             My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
                             So I did sit and eat.






Saturday, January 04, 2014

Poem to Start the New Year





On my "someday-maybe" list is to read a book of poetry by Czeslaw Milosz. I only heard of him a few years ago, but what I've heard makes me want to know more.

Found this poem today and thought how, even though the middle lines might be different for each of us and would be for me, we can probably all "amen" the first line. And be grateful that the last lines are also true. (Unless we've really, really been stupid and gotten famous for it somehow.)

He wrote this the same year he won the Nobel Prize for literature.

Here's to wise choices in the New Year!


Account

The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.

Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
Like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle’s flame.

Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
The little whisper which, though it is a warning, is ignored.

I would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
The time when I was among their adherents
Who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.

But all of them would have one subject, desire,
If only my own—but no, not at all; alas,
I was driven because I wanted to be like others.
I was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.

The history of my stupidity will not be written.
For one thing, it’s late. And the truth is laborious.