Just fiddlefarting around

T. S. Eliot--The Cultivation of Christmas Trees

2011-12-25T14:18:00.000-05:00

The Cultivation of Christmas Trees
-T.S. Eliot-

There are several attitudes towards Christmas,
Some of which we may disregard:
The social, the torpid, the patently commercial,
The rowdy (the pubs being open till midnight),
And the childish--which is not that of the child
For whom the candle is a star, and the gilded angel
Spreading its wings at the summit of the tree
Is not only a decoration, but an angel.
The child wonders at the Christmas Tree:
Let him continue in the spirit of wonder
At the Feast as an event not accepted as a pretext;
So that the glittering rapture, the amazement
Of the first-remembered Christmas Tree,
So that the surprises, delight in new possessions
(Each one with its peculiar and exciting smell),
The expectation of the goose or turkey
And the expected awe on its appearance,
So that the reverence and the gaiety
May not be forgotten in later experience,
In the bored habituation, the fatigue, the tedium,
The awareness of death, the consciousness of failure,
Or in the piety of the convert
Which may be tainted with a self-conceit
Displeasing to God and disrespectful to the children
(And here I remember with gratitude
St. Lucy, her carol, and her crown of fire):
So that before the end, the eightieth Christmas
(By “eightieth” meaning whichever is the last)
The accumulated memories of annual emotion
May be concentrated into a great joy
Which shall be also a great fear, as on the occasion
When fear came upon every soul:
Because the beginning shall remind us of the end
And the first coming of the second coming.

Fate

2011-07-15T17:33:00.000-04:00

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words indecision, option, fate.

Fate

A part of Fate is the freedom of man. --R. W. Emerson

Fate beckoned, bowed
on one knee, while
a sycamore swayed
in the breeze. Long
fingers pointed either way,
momentous indecision.
Impossible to weigh
every blazing option;
Fate condescends,
leaves fall
where they may.

Plant Dreams

2011-07-09T13:43:00.000-04:00

This is for the good folks over at Bluebell Books. Thanks for the invite.

Plant Dreams

She is Queen of the Forest,
benevolent Sovereign of her

universe, every mound
of fertile soil her royal

playground. In this world
all life is an expression

of her will, touched
by a well-meaning hand.

She adores and protects
each greening leaf,

growing deep roots for
the sadness yet to come.

Do we know, without doubt,
what vegetation dreams about?

William Blake on Perception

2011-07-08T21:20:00.000-04:00

Man's perceptions are not bounded by organs of perception, he perceives more than sense (tho' ever so acute) can discover.

~William Blake, There is No Natural Religion

Awake

2011-07-06T21:26:00.000-04:00

Three Word Wednesday, prompt words nasty, heat, cease.

Awake

Before we make fools
of ourselves
by nasty words
and worse actions;
when light and heat mingle
with quiet breath
and we are not ashamed;
depending on something
other than
what we wear, own, or believe;
that brief moment
that touches eternity,
exposed
yet precious
like a child, like a child.
Each morning an entrance
where knowledge vanishes,
prophecies fail,
tongues cease.

Peace that Passes All Understanding

2011-07-03T14:54:00.001-04:00

A late, unrefined Three Word Wednesday. Prompt words bump, transfix, knuckle.

Peace that Passes All Understanding

He prayed, “Bless those fighting
for peace.” And I scratched
my head in wonder. How can
this be? The world waits
transfixed, fearing the loss
of all, and we ask Almighty God:

Bless us, O Lord, as we
march on to Zion,
beat plows into swords,
carve trees into clubs,
bump off every opponent,
raise bloody knuckles,
make peace by war.

Not for Nothing

2011-06-23T16:32:00.003-04:00

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words gag, omit, maintain. I had this ready earlier, but had an argument with myself about the best order for the stanzas. Settled on this for now.

Not for Nothing

It's not for nothing
I come early to Tumble Creek,
leaving the noisy boundaries
of progress and order to learn
the wind's soft syllables.

The architects of Paradise
have Nature bound and gagged,
allowing her to speak barely
in well-maintained green accents--

but I need to see Nature wild,
hear her whisper mysteries
known only to those who
love their place, who listen
with the care that omits nothing.

Worth

2011-06-16T16:46:00.017-04:00

This needs some work, but I've got to get back in the swing of things somehow. For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words grip, prefer, thread.

Why worship the glory of the bottom line,
Laboring to multiply unneeded goods
While leaving the Good undesired?
We are what we prefer.

Each day the same:
Grip the key
That sparks the fire
That turns us to
The widening gyre
Incensed gods
Who tromp and pound
Affection and wonder
Into the ground

And so we prove our worth.
Weaving threads of death
Inconsiderately, life
Ornate but bare within.

Reflection

2011-06-11T12:53:00.002-04:00

Back in town for the weekend, hopefully only a few more days working out of town. I had a few moments to scrawl out a little poem for Three Word Wednesday, prompt words were: alter, fond, tranquil.

Reflection

It comes back to me slightly
altered, a rippling image
of what is real. But that’s
not quite right. The reflection
is just as real although existing
beyond touch. To touch
it is to break it, like some
fond memory too precious
for clumsy hands, kept
in the tranquil
depths of the heart.

Pictures, and a few words

2011-06-04T08:59:00.004-04:00

I’ve not posted in a while. In fact, I’ve not written anything in a while—partly due to lack of time, partly due to a feeling that I have nothing to say at the moment. Perhaps the two reasons are related. I know in my experience that if I do not make time to observe my place in this world (whether interior contemplation or outward observation), anything I try to write sounds half-formed and hollow.

Anyway, I’ve not been on vacation, but have been working out of town on Daufuskie Island, off the South Carolina coast. Being out of town, sharing living space with others (and trying to merge my living habits with the habits of others) has taken a toll on my writing productivity. And I’ve not had online access, so blog posting has been impossible. However, I’ve been able to enjoy a few hours of early-morning solitude on the beach, and after work I’ve had some delightful bass and redbreast fishing. Thought I’d try to send along a few pictures.

The First Shall Be Last

2011-05-13T18:29:00.002-04:00

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words brandish, forbid, manage.

The First Shall Be Last

Rosy smile baring perfect teeth,
well-fed body arising as the
blessed sun in the east, behind
the lectern looking for all the world
like a slick advertisement
in some hip magazine. Brandish
words. Slap the holy book,
make the hard sell. Not having lived,
forbid earthly pleasure, demand
sacrifice since the easy road
grinds on the backs of others—
all praise to you, God’s
humble, polished servant.
It may be, in the Last Day,
he will manage to forgive.

Snakes Alive! A Tale of Terror from the Carpenter's Chronicles

2011-05-10T20:23:00.002-04:00

Two years ago on a warm spring day I went with my boss to start a new job. We had been contracted to build a spacious house from the ground up, and the first order of business was to shoot grade and locate the lot markers. Since the proposed house was in the floodplain of the Ogeechee River just on the outside of a sweeping bend, the lot was predictably low and wet—except for a few large white oak and sweet gum trees and a stand of pines at the western boundary, the entire jobsite was covered in knee-high marsh grasses. We’ve built a lot of houses in cramped subdivisions where the developers level every living thing in order to squeeze out a few more lots so it’s always a delight to work in the open, listening to the tap of woodpeckers and persistent song of the wrens.

After determining our benchmark near the road and locating the front left boundary pin I set out across the lot to find the back left marker, pacing out the 220 feet or so in the general direction I thought to find it, happy to be out in the fine weather.

“Do you think there are snakes?” Jim asked.

“They’ve got to be all over the place in here.” I remembered that Jim was terrified of snakes, and I am not one to pass up a chance for a little fun. I’ve always thought it humorous that Jim, an Eagle Scout, is so ill at ease in the outdoors. He cannot identify flora and fauna; I even had to show him what a mockingbird looks like. I suppose he earned his Eagle by helping the elderly and learning to tie knots.

Since the lot was perfect habitat for snakes of all varieties, I was justified in alerting Jim to the danger. Most snakes will take the coward’s way out if they have the chance, so as I walked through the grass I made enough foot noise to give any hiding creature fair warning. We pulled our measurement to the marker, shot the grade, and I held my place while Jim started toward me.

“I don’t want to sound like a baby, but I don’t like this at all,” Jim said as he tucked the tripod under one arm and grabbed the transit with the other.

“Just make a little noise—they don’t want to be around you any more than you want to be around them,” I replied.

Stepping gingerly, Jim made his way across the lot whistling the theme song from Sanford and Son. It took me a few seconds, but I soon realized that the whistling was Jim’s way of alerting any devilish attacker of his presence.

“Make some noise with your feet! Let ‘em know you mean business!” I hollered between repressed snickers. Jim stopped for a second as if to steel himself and continued toward me, this time raking his feet through the grass. He was doing fine, like a regular Swamp Fox. And then the panic set in. He picked up speed, and with his increased momentum he also increased altitude, his soles nearly reaching shoulder height, arms akimbo.

Now, Jim is a big man—horizontally, not vertically. He’s about 5’5”, 260 pounds, with the shortest inseam I’ve ever seen on a grown man, maybe 28” tops. So you can imagine the effort he exerted as he high-stepped it across the lot. And being the generous soul I am I gave him plenty of encouragement in his flight from danger.

“You got ‘em where you want ‘em now, Jim! Keep “em on the run!” I couldn’t sustain enough breath between the laughing and vocal assistance, so I looked around for a place dry enough to roll around on. Damn marsh—I was forced to stagger about holding my belly, tears rolling down my beard.

He still swears he heard a snake after him in the grass. I tell him if there were any snakes, they were too busy belly-laughing to make much of an assault.

Near

2011-05-04T19:23:00.005-04:00

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words jitter, grace, thin.

Near  
~for Becky


Edging skyward, breathless 
in thin air, the unknown pulsing 
with expectation. We stood 
overlooking the dark expanse 
seeing, not seeing, a view 
worth the climb. The moon 
blushing in the glow of your skin.
You lean close and whisper, 
mouth to ear, nearer. Near. 
What grace did we wish in this
shared solitude, 
beyond all, jittery 
night creatures avoiding 
the town’s lights? I remember, 
and am glad we were there.

Salutation --Ezra Pound

2011-05-02T16:06:00.002-04:00

Here's a little poem by Pound I like.

Salutation

O generation of the thoroughly smug
     and thoroughly uncomfortable,
I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun,
I have seen them with untidy families,
I have seen their smiles full of teeth
     and heard ungainly laughter.
And I am happier than you are,
And they were happier than I am;
And the fish swim in the lake
     and do not even own clothing.

Eternity's Gift

2011-04-27T19:38:00.002-04:00

Three Word Wednesday, prompt words foolish, mercy, relish. I missed contributing last week--Holy Week is always busy for me.

Eternity’s Gift

So what is one supposed to do,
seeing time race by like a summer
storm? The days full of strength
are far between and getting farther—
I’m not finished yet but the end
is in sight. And I am not afraid.
I have learned through many
foolish hours that every end
is a beginning; every weakness
supplies its own strength; to plunge
to the depths is to finally find mercy;
every path is passable if it
follows the way of love. Knowing
this, I will relish each fleeting
moment as eternity’s rich
gift, abiding in the fullness
of this brief and blessed life.

Christ is Risen! Christos Anesti!

2011-04-24T14:24:00.004-04:00

I am a Christian. I see nothing in that to apologize about, even if many apologizable things have been said and done in the name of Christianity. My faith is integral, passed down to me from a long line of believers, and I could only deny that faith by denying myself.

That being said, my faith has undergone some changes over the years—necessary changes, as I see it. I’m more willing to admit my ignorance about God and his ways. I’m less willing to hold exclusivist views about who gets to go to Heaven and who inherits the Hot Place. The way I figure it, if God can be merciful to me there’s hope for everyone. Christians have, above many others, given God ample opportunity to exercise his famed loving-kindness. Too bad we selectively forget stories like the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant (St. Matthew 18:21-35). I’ve stopped concerning myself with everyone else’s eternal destiny, but I can’t help speculating: Maybe the only likely inhabitants of the Inferno will be those willing to dispatch others there. (Sorry, Sig. Alighieri. I liked your poem anyway.)

I’m also unconvinced, in spite of some lines of Christian teaching, that there is a necessary separation between spirit and body. We live here like trees, in two directions: ever reaching toward heaven and putting down deep roots in the earth. I fail to see the benefit of intentionally stunting growth in either direction. Even though this world, and our life in this world, is warped and unwhole, I refuse to condemn it in some all-out bid for future reward. After all, whatever defects we find in creation seem traceable to our own inability or unwillingness to live in union with both God and our place. Seems rather foolish to junk up a place and then condemn it for being junked up. God set goodness and beauty here, all around us, and I can’t help but live in gratitude and wonder at every good gift from above. In any case, even allowing that the world is in some way fallen, if the Scripture is correct in saying that “with God all things are possible”—and I believe it—then everything, all creation, is redeemable. I consider that even St. Paul, noted for his pessimism toward the world, held out the belief that all creation will be “delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.”

Which brings me to something of a point. To me, the message of Easter is this: life from death, peace in conflict, hope in troublesome times, comfort in sorrow, love overcoming all. Again, from the pen of the oft-misunderstood Apostle, “Charity never faileth.” I like those words. May I have the courage to live them.

Inheritance

2011-04-14T20:18:00.002-04:00

For Three Word Wednesday: prompt words are evident, illusion, tragic.

Inheritance

The buried dead are alive
To me, an evident reality;
A past I am unable and
Unwilling to leave behind.
History throbs with life—every
Person, event, and decision sounds
Loud in my memory, makes
Me know my inheritance
Is not an illusion.
Tragic and comic, blessing and curse,
A mixed cup poured
Liberally into my present.

Far-off Hills

2011-04-06T20:26:00.002-04:00

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words adamant, fabricate, peculiar.

Far-off Hills

I’m going away.
Face set, adamant,
there’s nothing you can say—
I’m choking here beneath
the blistering gaze.
And I can see the far-off
hills, I see them and I feel
their gentle joy.

“You’re peculiar,”
you say, “born a century
too late.” Just because I
despise your fabricated
dramas, and am baffled
by your giddiness over
every consuming trinket
the tech-gods pitch your way.

You may be right, there may
be nothing there for me. But
I’ll feel the rising river-mist
as the heron fishes regally,
close my day with the
crimson sunset, and
die with my boots on,
mucked by honest soil,
when I finally
go
away.

The Worsening

2011-03-31T18:44:00.001-04:00

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words persuasive, loud, riches. Felt like rhyming this week.

The Worsening

Black shapes against the sky
Hover, descend.
They do not make a cry
But with the blackness blend
And raise a solid wall
That will not shake or fall.

In circular silence
I try to find a door
That isn’t there. Bent
Numb fingers explore
Until persuasive despair
Calmly buzzes in my ear.

Will these dead bones live?
To sing again? I recall
Some melody through the sieve
Of my memory, small
Spent riches of sound
A dirge for the burial ground.

Yet I am not alone—
Child-like belief makes
A chink in the dark stone.
The loud creak of hell’s gates,
Startling as I spring
Free of the worsening.

Tool--go ahead and try to play this bass line, rookie!

2011-03-25T18:03:00.003-04:00

I like bluegrass. I like classical. I like old country. I like rock (mostly older). I love Tool. Just wanted to headbang a little. Back to poetry and farting around shortly.

Patience

2011-03-24T17:32:00.002-04:00

For Three Word Wednesday: prompt words dual, volley, identical.

Patience

Invisible change, slower than the shift
From babbling youth to maturity.
The dual reality of living—

Flesh-willing, spirit-weak. Wait
Still as ancient stone; night fades into day.
A volley of light, celestial energy

Breaks the tedium, penetrates marrow deep.
Hold the tentative hope until
Spirit and will are identical.

Roethke is a great poet . . .

2011-03-19T19:11:00.003-04:00

... and here is one of my favorites.

A Light Breather
~Theodore Roethke

The spirit moves,
Yet stays:
Stirs as a blossom stirs,
Still wet from its bud-sheath,
Slowly unfolding,
Turning in the light with its tendrils;
Plays as a minnow plays,
Tethered to a limp weed, swinging,
Tail around, nosing in and out of the current,
Its shadows loose, a watery finger;
Moves, like the snail,
Still inward,
Taking and embracing its surroundings,
Never wishing itself away,
Unafraid of what it is,
A music in a hood,
A small thing,
Singing.

Resilience

2011-03-17T06:26:00.003-04:00

Three Word Wednesday: prompt words breeze, mellow, tickle.

Resilience

Rending breezes come and go.
The limbless tree still
rooted stands. You’re stumped—
words tickle my throat—
why I oughtta nod
off, quit trying when
trying is half the fun?

But I can go further even if
on my belly and I will
I will not cry out!

Will you meet me
at Mellow Marsh? I didn’t
think so but just in case.
Buy an island no one
cares where. I smell home,
and I’ll not stop
till I arrive.

Searching

2011-03-14T19:39:00.002-04:00

Truth manifests itself to
the ones who love
truth.
--Kierkegaard

I thumb back and forth
as if all is at stake,

a miner in a rush
to pan his fortune once for all.

Yet the essence of truth
is manifest, overflowing,

like the scent of gardenias
carried on by every little breeze,

like flecks of gold delighting
every wondering child.

Worthless animal

2011-03-12T17:26:00.003-05:00

My youngest daughter’s cat is the most worthless animal ever created. Well, that is probably speaking a bit beyond my experience, but I would bet my next paycheck that she easily makes the Top Ten Worthless Animal List. (Cat, not my daughter.)

We live in an older house, and from time to time we have a rat take up his abode in our attic; before long, it finds its way into the living space and eats Wonder Bread or Snickers until I finally end its miserable life. I assumed that Cat—a master of stealth, well-equipped with sharp claws, teeth, and night vision, and therefore gifted beyond my pest-controlling abilities —would make a good recruit. I hate to admit it, but I was wrong. Cat sleeps like Van Winkle all night long, and the rat is getting plump on cat food.

She’s great at catching wind-blown leaves, though.

Seamus Heaney: Squarings xlvii

2011-03-10T20:16:00.003-05:00

The visible sea at a distance from the shore
Or beyond the anchoring grounds
Was called the offing.

The emptier it stood, the more compelled
The eye that scanned it.
But once you turned your back on it, your back

Was suddenly all eyes like Argus's.
Then, when you'd look again, the offing felt
Untrespassed still, and yet somehow vacated

As if a lambent trooop that exercised
On the borders of your vision had withdrawn
Behind the skyline to manoeuvre and regroup.

~Seamus Heaney

For you-know-who

2011-03-09T18:47:00.001-05:00

On Our Twenty-first

They ask “How’d you do it?”
as if we had worked magic
or turned water into wine.
Something more wonderful—
two became one, without

reservation, a complete giving
of self. All the rest,
the common work and common love,
radiates from that first
encompassing fullness.

How or why it works, I don’t
know. I only know that tomorrow,
and tomorrow’s tomorrow,
I will continue to lose myself
in your welcoming love.

The Hallway

2011-03-09T18:08:00.002-05:00

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words were dainty, tantalize, haunting. An old memory, hopefully I did it justice here.

The Hallway

At the end of every service came
the Haunting, when every grinning
worshipper had gone through
self-closing doors, and in the dead

quiet every creak and squeak
was empirical proof
of malicious spirits waiting
for the final light to be dimmed.

And that was my job, turning
out the last back hallway light
while Dad checked the locks.
Switch at one end, stairs at the other,

hellfire sermon still alive
in my impressionable mind. I flipped
the lights off and paused, the soft red
glow of the exit sign serving only

to tantalize, a temptation
to take the first step
toward safety. I ran, blood pounding,
ashamed of fear but determined

not to become a dainty meal
for fire-breathing forces.
You may laugh and say what you will,
but I have known from childhood

that evil inhabits holy places.

Some days are just like that

2011-03-07T17:49:00.002-05:00

March 9, 1846:

God in heaven, if there were not deep within a man a place where all this can be completely forgotten in communion with thee, who could endure it.

~ Kierkegaard, Journals

And the Award Goes to . . .

2011-03-03T16:44:00.002-05:00

For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words were affinity, fidget, and mention.

And the Award Goes to . . .

Unblinking, we devour
fabricated reality like
saucer-eyed fish that cannot
distinguish real worms
from glittering bait. Such
affinity for the famous,
who earn their honor by
pretending to be what
they are not. They fuss and fidget
and we watch, mouth agape
as if witnessing the return
of Christ Almighty. Take
hold of your own days.
Make no mention of the
exploits of others.
You also live.

(So I was feeling a little grouchy today.)

Ignite

2011-02-28T19:56:00.005-05:00

single glowing spark
flickering forked tongue reduced
everything to ash

Is this seat taken?

2011-02-25T16:27:00.002-05:00

Today I did a little work in the friendliest bathroom in Savannah. I'd have to know someone pretty good to use this--they don't call them "privates" for nothing.

To, too, two

2011-02-24T17:41:00.003-05:00

I followed a car home from work today, about 10 miles worth. The driver had a custom-made bumper sticker that read: TO BLESSED TO BE STRESSED. Obviously the sticker's creator did not consult a grammar/usage handbook before printing the thing out, and I understand that mistakes happen. Stressed the hell out of me, though.

Family Tradition

2011-02-23T21:58:00.003-05:00

Three-Word Wednesday, prompt words: stress, juicy, figure.

Family Tradition

At odds again. Head under
pillow he listens, loud words
shouted with spiteful stress.
Through thin walls neighbors
also hear, just a juicy
tidbit to share. Proficient
hands land on his tired
figure. He stifles sobs,
but nothing’s lost—his voice
grows stronger, fists harder,
every day saving up
the lessons learned
with more to follow.

Hush, I'm watching my stories!

2011-02-18T23:41:00.004-05:00

For reasons I cannot understand, the wife was telling me about some soap opera she watches. I swear I thought she said there was a "big bust catastrophe," and my mind immediately created a hundred, nay, a thousand different scenarios. Turns out it was a "big bus catastrophe."

Old Friend

2011-02-17T17:22:00.001-05:00

Three Word Wednesday, prompt words were blink, kind, and occasion.

Old Friend

I didn’t recognize you.
A shy, drawling “Hey” sparked
a recent memory which face
and figure didn’t match. Staring,
blinking, I tried to place
you, but only the eyes looked
familiar. Deep within their sunken
pools reflections of what you were
still remained. Why did you do it?
What kind of driving need
caused you to pursue such
deceptive self-destruction,
your mind and body blasted
by repeated momentary pleasure?
The will to die I can understand,
but the will to live such
a life, raging for the next
fix, comes from a place
I cannot know. This should have
been one happy occasion, lively talk
about work and kids and hard-earned
success. But like a boy caught
in a lie I could only mumble,
look aside, and wish there
was more I could say.

Audible moon shine

2011-02-16T21:37:00.003-05:00

Oct. 13, 1835:

The real beauty of Lemming’s playing (he is a Danish musician; I heard him at the University Club) was that he stroked the guitar. The vibrations became almost visible, just as when the moon shines on the sea the waves become almost audible.
--Kierkegaard’s Journals

That time of the month

2011-02-13T15:45:00.002-05:00

Wife felt a pre-minstrel headache coming on.

No card this year, but . . .

2011-02-13T13:39:00.004-05:00

Our Long Walk

The late-fallen snow,
hard-packed by the feet
of those omnipresent
classmates whose company
we forgot,
posed no danger, yet with
instinctive eagerness
you held my arm
and I held yours.

We did not know,
as we lingered
in the scattered shadows
beside Schroon Lake, that
after twenty-two years
we would still walk
arm in arm,
pressed close, sharing
breath, love, life.

(Our first date was Feb. 14, 22 years ago; we'll be married 21 years March 10. It's been a great walk.)

Wisdom from the (South) East II

2011-02-12T11:02:00.003-05:00

~Congressman who reveal nipples in online attempt for girl also reveal he plenty nuts.~

~Only big half-wit turn down free Cold Beer.~

Wisdom from the (South) East

2011-02-12T07:27:00.002-05:00

~ Lazy man, like man with no arms, must exert big effort to be handy.~

~Man who thinks he King Shit have head up ass.~

For Spring

2011-02-10T19:51:00.002-05:00

If you'll forgive the expression, it's been a pretty shitty winter, even here in the deep South where God dwells. Spring is on my mind . . .

For Spring

The dark underneath presses
upward in silence, a process
becoming never complete. Soft
drops seep inward, baptism of
hope, hum of life barely begun.

Breath-mist curls skyward
in yearning, daily eternal
mystery, death-life
repeated in signs and seasons
and days and years.

Naked notes trickle and blend,
unlearned symphony
played by slender hands. Speak.
Sing. And I saw that
it was very good.

Howling Skitters

2011-02-07T06:57:00.002-05:00

Thank you, NFL, for serving up a rotten plate of Black-Eyed Peas for the Half-time Show. And the side orders of stale Slash and undulating Usher didn't help it go down any easier. It's the morning after, and I still feel queasy.

Handfuls

2011-02-05T08:17:00.004-05:00

This is pretty late for a Three Word Wednesday post, but I've been sick this week (really, I've been off-and-on sick since Thanksgiving), so I'm thinking through a haze of generic Nyquil. Anyway, here you go, such as it is. I think I can tighten it up later. Three words were abrasive, loss, handful.

Handfuls

Abrasive days have ground
me into the dust, yet somehow
sharp edges remain.

If God would explain
this toiling path, supposed divine
plan to make heaven mine—

I’ve no ready answers. I can
only guess, or stiffly stand
and shake defiant fists, or make

peace with my lot, take
whatever comes, gain or loss,
as handfuls of grace.

And now a few words from T. S. Eliot

2011-02-01T14:22:00.004-05:00

These words have been rattling around in my head for the past week:

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

T. S. Eliot, from Ash-Wednesday (lines 1.26-33)

Where the enemy cannot follow

2011-01-30T16:48:00.002-05:00

When we humble ourselves before God we go downwards, and this is the one
direction in which the enemy cannot follow us, and consequently we are freed
from his influence.

--Fr. Zacharias Zacharou, Remember Thy First Love (p. 176)

Space

2011-01-28T17:39:00.004-05:00

Three-Word Wednesday prompt was tough this week. Went ahead and threw something together anyway. Three words were conniption, janky, scooch. Slinging slang on this one.

Space

This janky world.
A growing cosmic
conniption fit
of hatred and violence:
words offered
programs engaged
money funneled
armies deployed
have failed to fix
our fractures.

What if we
just scooch over,
make room for
everyone,
every creature,
welcome all?

Of course it will
never work. So
we continue
to build the tombs
of the prophets
and martyrs
stone upon stone:
shake our heads
deafen our ears
adorn our homes
capitalize
our personal
space.

Abyss

2011-01-25T18:48:00.002-05:00

Messing with a Three-Word Wednesday prompt from last week. Ended up with this. Only used two words though. Oh well.

Abyss

It doesn’t seem surreal to me,
this kenotic journey
beyond hair, skin,
vessels and organs
into the heartself.

I go. And it is enough
simply to descend, lower
still, past desire for power,
to meet the small voice
wooing me into the expanse,

the kingdom within. The path
tending toward life through death
follows close-eyed watchfulness
and empty fullness.
World above worlds,

Word above words
entered by the silent
startled traveler. Love-spent,
in the gentle healing Light
where all is quiet.

Dino from Flirtatious Era

2011-01-23T18:51:00.003-05:00

This is the year I get it going on.

2011-01-23T17:24:00.001-05:00

Resolutions for the Year of Our Lord 2011

1. Start forming resolutions earlier in the year, so as to have them ready to go on Jan. 1.

2.

Heaney. One of the greats. Of all time.

2011-01-23T17:17:00.004-05:00

The Skylight

You were the one for skylights. I opposed

Cutting into the seasoned tongue-and-groove

Of pitch pine. I liked it low and closed,

Its claustrophobic, nest-up-in-the-roof

Effect. I liked the snuff-dry feeling,

The perfect, trunk-lid fit of the old ceiling.

Under there, it was all hutch and hatch.

The blue slates kept the heat like midnight thatch.

But when the slates came off, extravagant

Sky entered and held surprise wide open.

For days I felt like an inhabitant

Of that house where the man sick of the palsy

Was lowered through the roof, had his sins forgiven,

Was healed, took up his bed and walked away.

--Seamus Heaney

Call of the Wild

2011-01-22T11:00:00.005-05:00

One of the boys just informed me that Robin Hood does NOT call his followers by shouting, "Oh merrrry meeee-en!" Instead, he blows his horn three times, "Poot. Poot. Poooooot!" Thought you'd like to know.

The Lord hath tempted me sorely

2011-01-21T13:52:00.004-05:00

Just moments after submitting my last blog post about non-judgment, someone sent me this video to watch. So I ask--how can one say what needs to be said about such a "minister" (he calls himself a "co-prophet") without judging? It's wrong on so many levels . . .

Non-judgment: or, Where do you want to throw him?

2011-01-21T12:02:00.002-05:00

One day Abba Isaac went to a monastery. He saw a brother committing a sin and he condemned him. When he returned to the desert, an angel of the Lord came and stood in front of the door of his cell, and said, “I will not let you enter.” But he persisted saying, “What is the matter?” and the angel replied, “God has sent me to ask you where you want to throw the guilty brother whom you have condemned.” Immediately he repented and said, “I have sinned, forgive me.” Then the angel said, “Get up, God has forgiven you. But from now on, be careful not to judge someone before God has done so.”

--The Sayings of the Desert Fathers--

Baby Jesus?

2011-01-12T09:57:00.002-05:00

My 2 yr. old son brought this book to me, pointed to the creature in the backpack-looking thing and said, "That's baby Jesus!" I don't rightly know where that idea came from. We're teaching our kids better than this. Really.

2010

2011-01-10T12:00:00.004-05:00

I found this on the packing of a front door we set the other day--thought it was a fair visual representation of last year.

Just a suggestion

2011-01-06T15:06:00.002-05:00

I thought I'd pay to have the wife get one of these for her birthday. She was not amused.

Happy Birthday

2011-01-03T21:07:00.002-05:00

Wife: "You know, you haven't written anything on your blog for a year."

Me: "Really?"

So there. And Happy Birthday.

Alexander's story II

2009-02-07T16:23:00.002-05:00

Alexander's story is finished--it took a pretty tragic turn. Chris, the hero, ended up with an arrow in the soft spot of his head (original illustration by the author, above), and the cyclops ended up winning all the battles. That's the way it goes sometimes.

I thought they only had one eye

2009-02-02T19:31:00.004-05:00

My son Alexander (7) is writing a book about a three-eyed cyclops. Believe it or not, I had trouble finding a picture of a three-eyed cyclops, so this one-eyed version will have to do.

I don't want to give anything away, but so far the hero, Chris, has undergone training to fight the monster (which, as a three-eyed cyclops, must appear a monster even to his fellows); for some reason, in the middle of his training, Chris was tricked by his trainer to enter a girls' bathroom--I guess it was to toughen him up for the battle ahead; a princess has died from an arrow shot straight down through the "soft spot" in the top of her head; and the cyclops has "freaked out" because his son and daughter died in battle. In an unexpected plot twist, the daughter turns out to be the very same above-mentioned princess.

That's it so far, but with Alexander there is sure to be more to follow.

A moment of thanks

2009-01-27T17:39:00.005-05:00

With the economy in the crapper and all there hasn't been much work for an old carpenter to do. Happy to be framing again. We'll be siding the outside and trimming the inside of this one as well, so thank God for a little bump forward.

Mouse in House

2009-01-24T21:12:00.003-05:00

You may have heard we have a few mice in the house; I've spent the last few days trying to kill the little guys. I know it goes against my general stance on kindness to God's creation, but I've read The Plague--they need to know who they're messin' with. I'm leaving this one out as an example to the others.

I don't do resolutions

2009-01-03T14:14:00.001-05:00

This is the time of year for resolutions: those commitments people make at the beginning of a year to do or not do one thing or the other. I’m sure some people find New Year’s resolutions helpful; I can’t say they have ever done anything but aggravate the heehaw out of me. I consider myself reasonably motivated, and I sincerely wish to improve my life, but let’s face it—an external and artificial motivation for improvement is not likely to have any lasting influence on behavior, and thinking otherwise is a flight-plan guaranteed to crash and burn. For example, setting the clock 15 minutes ahead so that you think it’s later than it really is to force yourself to get up earlier only works for a while. Eventually, you just hit the snooze a few more times, requiring that you have to set the clock further ahead. And so on. Before you know it, you become a master at hitting the snooze in your sleep, and you continue to run late for work. Artificial means (usually!) produce artificial results.

What is needed is an inner change; however, this kind of change rarely comes about rapidly, and certainly isn’t tied to changing the calendar on the wall. Not many of us are going to have a St. Paul experience, where one moment you’re on your way to Damascus to kill Christians and the next moment you’re a full-blown Apostle. I know this seems unthinkable, but resolutions are not going to suddenly propel us into a better life—no, most of us have to inch our way to glory. Inch. By. Agonizing. Inch. Slow, imperceptible, even backwards sometimes. There is no quick fix to spiritual growth or general life improvement; it’s a bloody, violent effort. Get over it, and move on.

There will be people who dole out the fees for gym memberships that in two weeks will be back to their unhealthy lifestyles, and a few-hundred dollars poorer to boot. There will be people who have committed to controlling their anger this year that will (maybe tomorrow on the way to church) get so ticked off at the driver in front of them for turning so slowly they’ll bite through the steering wheel. There will be people who have determined to spend more time in prayer that in just a few days will find themselves spending their morning prayer time wondering what to eat for breakfast. I’d like for there to be some snappy advice to give for those who will struggle this year, advice that will make all the difference between progress and regress in 2009. If you came here looking for it, how nice of you to stop by! Sorry, though, I can’t help you. Those with all the answers only prove they do not know all the questions. However, the following thoughts have been helpful to me, so I pass them along as my best-intentioned effort to help:

1. Learn to repeat this prayer often: “O Lord my God, even though I have done nothing good in Thy sight, yet grant me by Thy grace to make a good beginning” (a prayer of St. John Chrysostom).

2. Remember this advice, well-worn (at least in Orthodox circles) but essential: Fall and get up, fall and get up. There is no other way.

3. Learn the happiness of this statement by St. Silouan: “. . . the soul spends her whole life waging war on intrusive thoughts. But do not be cast down over the struggle—the Lord loves a brave warrior.”

4. Know that much depends on you—but not everything. Do what lies in your power, then rest in the arms of Christ and laugh at the rest.

Unusual discovery

2009-01-03T12:29:00.003-05:00

There's an Emperor Penguin in my fridge, perched atop the Gatorade. I'm not sure how he got in there, since in my opinion a penguin (even one as royal as an Emperor-type) would not be able to open the door--I mean, they can't even use their wings to fly, much less open a fridge door. I suspect one of the kids saw him languishing in the warm South Georgia winter weather and gave him access to the top shelf. I'll let him stay awhile until he recovers, provided he leaves my Sam Adams Winter Lager alone.

Peace, good will among men

2008-12-24T21:13:00.003-05:00

Today Christ is born of the Virgin in Bethlehem. Today He who knows no beginning now begins to be, and the Word is made flesh. The powers of heaven greatly rejoice, and the earth with mankind makes glad. The Magi offer gifts, the shepherds proclaim the marvel, and we cry aloud without ceasing: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will among men.

- from Mattins of the Feast of the Nativity of Christ

Merry Christmas, Kala Christougenna, Blessed Feast to all!

Up for air

2008-12-17T13:40:00.005-05:00

Yesterday was the last day of classes for this session, which means I have a precious few days of respite. The last 8 weeks were extremely difficult, and this last week especially so. I have been fighting a vicious cold for a week--of course! It was the last week of classes, so why not add a horrible cold to the finals and papers and labs and projects. Wah wah wah. Today I'm feeling some better, but I'm home from work to try to fully recover.

I wish I had some deep spiritual insight into life to offer today, or a new poem, or a powerful quote from a good book I have been reading (yeah, right, like I've had time for any of that!) Even prayer and worship, which normally help me hold things together, have not been as constant as they should be. All I can say is that God has a way of buoying me up though these times by two means: family, and humor. And usually they come as a set. Here's a sample . . .

My nine-year-old son to one of his siblings: "You touch that last cupcake and you'll enter a world of pain." Survival of the fittest.

My seven-year-old son, who had been sick for a few days, was asked if he felt better: "Yeah, except when I stand on my tippy-toes my leg wiggles." . . . uh, okay then . . .

My five-year-old son had tripped on the game controller cord twice in one day. A little later, one of my other sons was telling jokes and asked, "What has four legs but doesn't walk?" The correct answer is a table, or perhaps a chair. My five-year-old sadly replied, of course, "Me." Four legs, son, four legs!

My three-year-old son came into the living-room in tears, saying, "Mom, I need a dwink."
"Why can't you get a drink?"
"Cause I need tea, and Gregory [the baby] is on the fwiderdayder." Really, it's not as bad as it sounds. He can't literally get on the fridge, at least to my knowledge.

My nine-year-old son: "Ewww, there's something floating around in the fishbowl." To which my eleven-year-old daughter (and the fishbowl's owner) replied, "No duh, they're fish." Sometimes you just make it too easy.

My sixteen-year-old daughter, while we were watching Prince Caspian: "That's a really tall midget!" Everything is a matter of perspective, I suppose.

You can't make this stuff up, folks. Large families involve some sacrifice, but the return is one hundred-fold.

Army vs Navy

2008-12-06T12:36:00.002-05:00

Sitting here on the couch, doing schoolwork--the Army/Navy game is on. Just noticed the back of the Army jerseys say: Duty. Honor. Country. Say that out loud with minimal pauses at the periods--I wonder who the brainiac was that came up with that!

Misc.

2008-11-26T17:17:00.003-05:00

Thanksgiving--have the day off, plan to do more schoolwork.

Kids have been playing Guitar Hero--Symeon (3) sings: "I love rock and roll / Put another ??? in the Juicebox, Baby. . .

Spent a few days going behind a repairperson from Handyman Connection to fix his or her screw-ups. Never, ever, hire this person for anything. Among other incredibly non-handy accomplishments, he or she installed a roof vent boot ON TOP OF THE SHINGLES! Might as well install a funnel with a sign saying: Here, Water, this is the quickest way to the bathroom ceiling.

Spiritually struggling; over-busy. (I've yet to learn the fine art of saying "No, sorry, I do not have time.")

Another stack of books awaiting my free time--next summer, perhaps.

Gregory, the new one, is now pulling up on everything, grabbing everything, sticking everything in his mouth, etc.

Ah, I did manage to read this last night from Wendell (while secluded in my private study, if you know what I mean):

Best of any song
is bird song
in the quiet, but first
you must have the quiet.

Amen, brother.

And I almost forgot--NO ONE has more to be thankful for than I do. End of story.

We live by mercy

2008-11-03T19:23:00.003-05:00

I'm far behind in my schoolwork, but I decided to take a little break for some Wendell Berry. I like this stanza from his "Amish Economy"--

We live by mercy if we live.
To that we have no fit reply
But working well and giving thanks,
Loving God, loving one another,
To keep Creation's neighborhood.

In A Timbered Choir. Wendell is the man. Can I get an Amen?

It is we who have suffered

2008-10-20T19:43:00.003-04:00

I've been thinking about these words for a few days:

God is searchlessly great. We hear and read of His greatness but it is quite another matter to live it, this greatness. No one and nothing can in any way diminish His eternal Sovereignty but He, even God, made Himself lowly to a degree that we cannot understand: in our frail flesh He attained absoluteness. Now I know from my own experience: He hungers for our perfection. In sanctioning our grievous struggle against the enemy and against our own selves in our fallen state, He would have us victorious. If we do not abandon Him in the worst moments of our humiliation by the enemy, He will most certainly come to us. He is the conqueror, not we. But He will attribute the victory to us, because it is we who have suffered. (Fr. Sophrony, We Shall See Him as He Is, p. 84)

Short revisit of Clouser and the Cappadocians

2008-10-17T19:33:00.004-04:00

I really don't have time for this right now, since I have final papers due this weekend and I'm running a little behind, but I felt I should mention what I have found out concerning Clouser's view of the attributes/energies of God. (Perhaps more will follow later, but I wouldn't count on it!)

As I have read further in his book The Myth of Religious Neutrality, I am frankly confused about his position on whether God's energies are created or uncreated. He makes a distinction between three different definitions of the word "created," and I find it is possible on the basis of this distinction to read him as agreeing (mostly) with the Cappadocian/Orthodox view on this. Clouser doesn't come right out and says that God's attributes, though distinct from his nature, are fully divine, and I see this as a weakness (and perhaps a serious flaw) in his thinking. But I was hasty in my previous post on this topic, and I thought honesty demanded I admit that. (The first section of my previous post stands as written, however.) Sure makes my paper that much harder to write!!

Even after 8 kids

2008-10-15T20:26:00.003-04:00

Proud Daddy

A huge slimy slug, he crosses the floor
leaving slobber trails for the unsuspecting
barefoot traveler, constantly grinning
as if he already knows the joy of
a well-planned practical joke. How can this
wriggling bundle of spit and skin provoke
such profound love in me, bringing me
out of myself? He can't even say my name,
yet I know him and he knows me, and the
bond of our souls is beyond speech. As I
lean close to his dimpled face all heaven
breaks loose; like the chorus of a thousand
angels his smile drowns out all chaos, and every
gloomy thought vanishes is the radiance
of breathtaking innocence and beauty.

Now here's something interesting

2008-10-07T17:10:00.003-04:00

I wrote a paper for a literature class this session on Hawthorne's short story "The Minister's Black Veil." That turned out OK, but my professor gave us the additional assignment of putting together a PowerPoint presentation to go along with our paper. I was having a problem finding a picture of a minister with a black veil--yeah, I know, you'd think with all the crap on the Internet someone would have a picture like this, but nothing doing. So, with the help of my son (the photographer), my black leather hat, a black overcoat, and a couple of well-placed tissues--The Reverend Mr. Hooper comes to life!

Pardon me while I rant: Clouser, Kierkegaard, and the Cappadocians

2008-09-01T09:25:00.004-04:00

A few weeks ago I wrote a post complaining that people misunderstand Kierkegaard. This past week I received verification that my complaint is correct, from a very unlikely source.

This session I’m taking a philosophy class; our focus is to examine the role religious belief plays in theory-making, and to that end we are reading Roy A. Clouser’s book The Myth of Religious Neutrality, Revised Edition. Clouser is professor emeritus of philosophy and religion at The College of New Jersey, Trenton, and is a Reformed Christian—or he is, at least, firmly in the Dooyeweerdian philosophical camp. In Chapter 5, Clouser gives his synopsis “of the [3] major positions which have been taken in the history of western thought concerning the general relation” of religious belief to theory-making: religious irrationalism, religious rationalism, and the biblical. I fully expected him to lump Kierkegaard with the first grouping and I was not disappointed. Rather than trying to explain the complexities of Kierkegaard’s thought, he gives three quotations from Kierkegaard’s writing that seem to prove his irrationalism, and moves on.

What was surprising, however, is that Clouser footnotes his Kierkegaard quotations with this revealing note: “Several Kierkegaard scholars have informed me that the position expressed in these quotes is actually misleading, and that his real position is more like my own [the biblical, of course]. They admit, however, that statements such as those I’ve quoted here certainly seem to indicate his position is as I describe it, and also that this (mis)understanding of him has long constituted his intellectual legacy. Since that is the case, I will leave the quotes as examples of the position being described, with the acknowledgement that they may not be accurate as to what Kierkegaard himself intended” (p. 344).

Read that again, because what Clouser is saying is mind-boggling. Clouser’s main argument in the book appears sound, but how am I supposed to take him seriously when he intentionally perpetuates a misunderstanding of another thinker, just because this misunderstanding is widely accepted??!! Clouser’s treatment of Kierkegaard’s thought in the first edition of the book is excusable, since he evidently didn’t know better. But after being informed by people who do know better, instead re-writing this section for the revised edition to more accurately portray Kierkegaard he buries a lame explanation in an endnote. Shame, shame, shame on him.

. . .

The following will probably only be of interest to any Orthodox readers of this blog, but read on if you wish. I have gone a little bit ahead of the class, and I find this isn’t the end of Clouser’s misreading and misrepresentation of other thinkers. Later in the book, while arguing that one’s view of the nature of God forms a presupposition that regulates one’s theory-making, Clouser defends what he calls an “alternative” view of the nature of God—“the view of God that was elaborated by the Cappadocian Fathers of the Greek Orthodox tradition, rediscovered in the west by Luther and Calvin in the sixteenth century, and championed by Karl Barth in the twentieth century. (I’ll call this Cappadocian and Reformed position the C/R view for short)” (p. 203).

Hmmm, I see a problem with historical accuracy here, but if Clouser actually takes the Cappadocian position I’ll overlook this inaccuracy. Clouser opposes his position to the view of Divine Simplicity as taught by Aquinas and most (if not all) of western Christianity, by adopting the essence/energies distinction found in the Cappadocians. (He more frequently uses the word “attribute” in place of energy, but he means the same thing.) So far so good.

However, as I read him, Clouser represents the Cappadocian postion (even quoting Lossky and St. Gregory Palamas!) as teaching that God’s attributes or energies are the created means by which God communicates himself to humankind, so that only God’s essence is uncreated. The whole point of Cappadocian theology, especially as represented by St. Gregory and the “Greek Orthodox tradition,” is that God’s energies are uncreated! Needless to say, I have cleared my final research paper topic with my professor, in which I hope to clarify the real Cappadocian/Palamite position against Clouser’s serious misunderstanding.

I suspect this will be an exasperating eight weeks for me.

An excuse for my lazy posting, And--A PRIZE!

2008-08-22T20:02:00.003-04:00

Classes resume this Monday, so I'm not likely to have time to do much here. I'll try to do what I can, though, since I am dead serious about my fiddlefarting around.

I did want to mention--after reading and entering some online debates (most of which started as simple discussions), I have decided to award all participants with this, the universal Grand Prize for online debating. Congratulations to all!

Pixy Stix

2008-08-15T19:51:00.001-04:00

Important information to remember: Pixy Stix powder burns like the devil when you get it in your eyes.

Tonight my son Symeon wanted to have a couple of Pixy Stix after supper, and brought them to me to have them opened. I distinctly remember, from my childhood, pinching the tops of the tubes and vigorously shaking the powder to the bottom in order have more room to tear the tube open without spilling anything. Evidently my ability to vigorously shake has increased with age, because after the tube whacked each side of my hand a few times the dad-gum thing exploded in my face, getting Pixy powder in my eye, ear, my keyboard, all over the couch. My oldest son, who was innocently sitting next to me on the couch, got it in the eyes as well. (He whined more than I did, big baby.) I have pretty long facial hair, so I had to use the vacuum attachment to suck out all the dust. Why doesn’t Willy Wonka put a warning label on these things!?!

The best gamble

2008-08-14T20:00:00.004-04:00

For the past few days (since this past Sunday's Gospel reading) I have been thinking about this word from Fr. Zacharias' book Christ, Our Way and Our Life.

Unhesitating faith in the divinity of Jesus generates spiritual courage, which gives the believer the strength not to flinch or retreat before the fearful sight of the abyss he must cross to reach divine eternity. For it is inevitable that Christian faith and discipleship place man in opposition to all the hostile powers, to every negative phenomenon in the spiritual world. At the same time, however, faith and discipleship also bestow on him the grace of always undertaking the best 'gamble': trusting with childlike simplicity in the victorious providence of God. (p. 195. Fr. Zacharias footnotes: For the concepts of trust in Providence and faith as a 'gamble,' see Mt. 6:28-30; 10:29-31.)

I'm not a betting man, but when the odds are this good . . .

Poor, poor, misunderstood Kierkegaard

2008-08-12T17:05:00.003-04:00

Sure, Kierkegaard says things that are out of balance. His rhetorical style thrives on hyperbole and irony--and is therefore not always understood. And he seems to revel in making contradictory statements--and is therefore not always understood. In addition, he wrote using many different "voices" (in the form of pseudonyms) and, you guessed it--is therefore not always understood. In many Christian circles Kierkegaard is regarded as a Harmful Less-than-Christian Writer (woe to the Christian writer that earns such an honor), and under the influence of Francis Schaeffer and Cornelius Van Til (among others) I used to hold this opinion as well. Things have changed.

Over the last few years I have gone back to read Kierkegaard with new eyes, as it were, and I find his writings stimulating and insightful, and not just on a literary level. He has much to say to the modern Christian worth hearing. Being an Orthodox Christian, I take issue with some of his points; there are important areas of divergence that should not be overlooked. But there are enough happy convergences to keep me reading, and enjoying, this unique Danish thinker.

Here's a quotation to illustrate what I'm saying. It is taken from an excellent essay by Charles K. Bellinger entitled, "Kierkegaard's Either/Or and the Parable of the Prodigal Son: Or, Three Rival Versions of the Three Rival Versions." The quote is Bellinger's own translation from the original.

As [Christ] is the truth, you do not learn to know from him what the truth is, to be left then to your own devices, but you remain in the truth only by remaining in him; as he is the way, you do not learn to know from him which way you shall go, and then being left to your own devices can go down your own path, but only by remaining in him can you remain in the way; as he is life, you do not have life given to you form him, and then can shift for yourself, but only by remaining in him do you have life: so it is also that he is the covering; only by remaining in him, only by living in him, are you covered, is there a cover over the multitude of your sins.

That sounds pretty Christian to me! Maybe a little too Christian for our comfort.

God provides

2008-08-10T15:44:00.002-04:00

It’s not looking too good for us. High fuel and food prices, rising unemployment, world-wide unrest and open conflict, insecurity about our economic future—all of this gives rise to anxiety, to fears that we have not yet seen the bottom; perhaps, in spite of our most earnest efforts to attain a level of luxury and ease, we may soon know what it is to really suffer. It’s easy to slide directly from anxiety to sheer panic: If it gets too bad, how will I feed my family? What will I do if my job market dies out completely and I have to start over again? What if the opportunities that make thoughts of the future bearable are suddenly stripped from me, and I am forced to eke out a barely survivable existence?

In light of our present circumstances, it was encouraging to hear the words of this Gospel reading today at Liturgy:

And Jesus went forth, and saw a great multitude, and was moved with compassion toward them, and he healed their sick. And when it was evening, his disciples came to him, saying, This is a desert place, and the time is now past; send the multitude away, that they may go into the villages, and buy themselves victuals. But Jesus said unto them, They need not depart; give ye them to eat. And they say unto him, We have here but five loaves, and two fishes. He said, Bring them hither to me. And he commanded the multitude to sit down on the grass, and took the five loaves, and the two fishes, and looking up to heaven, he blessed, and brake, and gave the loaves to his disciples, and the disciples to the multitude. And they did all eat, and were filled: and they took up of the fragments that remained twelve baskets full. And they that had eaten were about five thousand men, beside women and children. And straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitudes away. (Matthew 14:14-22)

In this reading there is the obvious teaching that our Lord can indeed provide for us; the answer to the question “Can God provide a table in the wilderness?” is an unhesitating “Yes!” Notice the contrast between the disciples’ anxiety (“Send them away . . . but all we have . . .”) with the complete sense of calm displayed by our Lord. He stationed the people in groups, unhurriedly blessed the bread and broke it, and passed it out to the disciples to disburse to the people. The problem for many of us, I suppose, is that in order to really test God’s ability to supply food to the hungry, we have to be hungry. And we fear that. This Gospel lesson shows our fear to be unreasonable; what is there to be anxious about, for those who sit in the presence of the Lord of Glory?

But this lesson teaches us more than just God’s ability to provide. We also hear that Christ was “moved to compassion,” and it is this revelation of Christ’s loving-kindness towards us that gives firm foundation to our faith in Divine provision. Do we truly understand the depth of this little phrase, “moved to compassion”? He sees us hungry, and is moved to compassion. He sees us diseased, and is moved to compassion. He knows our utter weakness, and is moved to compassion. Christ does not stand apart from our need, but comes to us with overflowing mercy—feeding, healing, strengthening.

If I can only keep in mind this depth of affection Christ has for me, his helpless child, I will not fear being weak, poor, sick, naked, persecuted, hated, or hungry. I have Jesus, and that is all I need. “If people only knew what the Lord’s love was, they would flock to Christ, and He would warm all men with His grace. His compassion is beyond words. From love of God the soul forgets the earth.” “If the Lord is ours, then all things are ours. That is how rich we are!” (St. Silouan).

More Thomas Wolfe

2008-08-09T15:59:00.003-04:00

Whatever one may think about Thomas Wolfe's overall quality as a writer, his descriptive ability is extraordinary. This depiction of the wicked Judge Rumford Bland from his novel You Can't Go Home Again is chilling, vivid--a word painting if I've ever seen one. I give the passage here in its versified form, as found in A Stone, A Leaf, A Door.

Judge Bland
by Thomas Wolfe

But he was stained with evil.
There was something genuinely old and corrupt
At the sources of his life and spirit.
It had got into his blood,
His bone, his flesh.
It was palpable in the touch
Of his thin, frail hand when he greeted you,
It was present in the deadly weariness
Of his tone of voice,
In the dead-white texture
Of his emaciated face,
In his lank and lusterless auburn hair,
And, most of all,
In his sunken mouth,
Around which there hovered constantly
The ghost of a smile.
It could only be called the ghost of a smile,
And yet, really, it was no smile at all.
It was, if anything, only a shadow
At the corners of the mouth.
When one looked closely,
It was gone.
But one knew
That it was always there--
Lewd, evil, mocking,
Horribly corrupt,
And suggesting a limitless vitality
Akin to the humor of death,
Which welled up from some secret spring
In his dark soul.

Opening ceremonies

2008-08-09T08:56:00.002-04:00

Last night my wife and youngest daughter wanted to watch the Olympic opening ceremonies. Here's what I noticed: President Bush, with his watch-checking, seat-shifting, and general lack of attention to the proceedings, looked every bit as bored as I was. One could almost see him thinking, "How many freakin' countries are there, anyway?!"

Solzhenitsyn--A Man

2008-08-05T20:26:00.005-04:00

Everyone who is paying attention already knows, but--Alexander Solzhenitsyn is dead. The deaths of famous people usually do not really affect me, but I must admit to feeling like something important to our world is gone. May his memory be eternal; and may God remember his bravery and unflinching stand for what he believed.

I have noticed something in most of the news coverage I have heard or read. The coverage is prompt to remind us that though Solzhenitsyn was instrumental in revealing the horrors of Stalin's Soviet Union (and therefore a "good-guy"), he was "imperious," "cranky," "unsmiling," and so on (and therefore not really so good after all). One story spoke of how he was an ungrateful visitor here in the USA; after his exile from the Soviet Union we made him welcome, and what did he do? He had the nerve to criticize American materialism and condemn America for being spiritually bankrupt. Surprise. Solzhenitsyn saw through our crap and called us on it, our feelings were hurt, and he was given the cold shoulder. Solzhenitsyn thundered against the abuses of Stalin and the Soviet empire, and the West thought that he would be a docile friend of American-style materialistic democracy. The West was mistaken. Solzhenitsyn reminded us that the modern problem is that "men have forgotten God," and those with a stake in the game were highly offended and shunned a prophetic voice that called us to account.

I know Solzhenitsyn was not a perfect man. But he was a man. A man of courage. A man of unbreakable will. A man who refused to sell out to a more palatable message. A man who wrote, not to entertain, but to effect change. I have not read all of his books, and I understand that some of his latter works are, well, not exactly good reading. And, of course, those who do not believe in God will already come to Solzhenitsyn with an insurmountable bias. Still, for all his critics, I only say: re-read (or read, as the case may be) A Day in the Life, Cancer Ward, Gulag, or August 1914 (the only books I have read and therefore can speak about) and know you are in the presence of a man.

Too many people? Comments from F.F.

2008-08-02T11:31:00.003-04:00

The idea that there are too many people inhabiting the globe has been promoted in different ways by different people in recent centuries. Since the time of Thomas Malthus (1766-1834), the catastrophic vision of population growth causing the collapse of society has played an important role in outbreaks of cultural pessimism. Back in the nineteenth century, it was predicted that population growth would lead to famine, starvation and death. Today’s cultural pessimists have raised the stakes: they denounce population growth as a threat to biodiversity and the very existence of the planet. Twenty-first century Malthusians are not so much worried about an impending famine as they are by the notion that people simply use too many resources and commodities.

Frank Furedi, a sociologist at the University of Kent, has written several articles on this subject, all worth reading. (In fact, I have found his insights helpful in general.) The above quotation is from his most recent article. Enjoy.

Ecclesial Being

2008-07-19T10:06:00.001-04:00

I just finished the book Ecclesial Being: Contributions to Theological Dialogue by Constantine Scouteris. Professor Christopher Veniamin has done a wonderful job in collecting and editing some of Professor Scouteris’ finest work, both old and new, concerning the nature and purpose of the Church. Prof. Scouteris has a remarkable ability to define Orthodox ecclesiology not only as it is in itself, but also as it is in relation to other Christian faith-groups, with wisdom and graciousness. In the chapter “The Church, ‘Filled with the Holy Trinity,’” Prof. Scouteris writes:

. . . the Church is not some closed religious corporation, a closed isolated religious community, but rather an open embrace, since God is the “Saviour of all men” (1 Tim. 4:10) and “will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim. 2:4). Often, in Christian circles there seems to be a sense of caution and introversion. Perhaps this is from the suddenness of rapid social transformation, maybe even today from some inclination towards self-defence in the face of the manifold provocations brought about by secularization and globalization on a material basis. It is an unjustifiable feeling of self-complacency, and a contraction and lessening of the Church. Thus, an insurmountable wall is raised, which isolates the Church and alienates it from its universal dimension. (30)

Whether he is writing about the ground of unity in the Church, the necessity of theological language based on worship rather than speculation, the role of the Church in justification, the importance of the priesthood, the significance of icons as a witness to the reality of the Incarnation, or more touchy subjects like the Orthodox approach to the World Council of Churches or common prayer, Professor Scouteris’ words are worth reading.

Like the First Day of the World

2008-07-18T20:58:00.004-04:00

by Thomas Wolfe, from A Stone, a Leaf, a Door

And he cried, "Glory! Glory!"
And we rode all through the night,
And round and round the park,
And then dawn came,
And all of the birds began to sing.

And now the bird-song broke in the first light,
And suddenly I heard each sound the bird-song made.
It came to me like music I had always heard,
It came to me like music I had always known,
The sounds of which I never yet had spoken,
And now I heard the music of each sound
As clear and bright as gold,
And the music of each sound was this:

At first it rose above me like a flight of shot,
And then I heard the sharp, fast skaps of sound the bird-song made.
And now with chittering bicker and fast-fluttering skirrs of sound
The palmy, honied bird-cries came.
And now the bird-tree sang,
All filled with lutings in bright air;
The thrum, the lark's wing, and tongue-trilling chirrs arose.
With liquorous, liquefied lutings,
WIth lirruping chirp, plumbellied smoothness, sweet lucidity.
And now I heard the rapid
Kweet-kweet-kweet-kweet-kweet of homely birds,
And then their pwee-pwee-pwee:
Others had thin metallic tongues,
A sharp cricketing stitch, and high shrews' caws,
With eery rasp, with harsh, far calls--
These were the sounds the bird-cries made.

All the birds that are
Awoke in the park's woodland tangles;
And above them passed the whirr of hidden wings,
The strange lost cry of the unknown birds
In full light now in the park,
The sweet confusion of their cries was mingled.

"Sweet is the breath of morn,
Her rising sweet with charm of earliest birds,"
And it was just like that.
And the sun came up,
And it was like the first day of the world.

WWOD

2008-07-16T18:57:00.003-04:00

Today while listening to NPR's show All Things Considered I heard a very entertaining clip from a woman who has embarked on a remarkable journey--she has determined to live the entire year as a follower of all of the advice given by Oprah Winfrey. When the interviewer asked her how she felt after a half-year of following her course, she replied, "Exhausted." Ha ha. Though she insisted the experiment was not meant to poke fun of the Industry of Oprah (though poking fun certainly seems to play its part!), it does highlight something I have been known to criticize: the tendency of people to unthinkingly accept the lifestyles/philosophies/opinions of their favorite celebrities, just because they happen to be famous. Anyway, if you need a good laugh today check out the site here.

Memory Eternal

2008-07-12T12:08:00.002-04:00

July 13th marks the fifth anniversary of the falling asleep in Christ of Fr. Adrian Pollard, under whose hand I entered the Holy Orthodox Church. I miss him, and feel deep loss that he is no longer with us. Not a single day has passed that I do not think of him and honor his memory.

Fr. Adrian was not a perfect man; like all of us, he had his faults and failures. But for me, in my time of spiritual crisis, he was exactly what I needed. Whatever progress I may have made in my spiritual life is (humanly speaking) due in great measure to the foundation Fr. Adrian gave me in the beginning of my movement to Orthodoxy. There are several key aspects of his teaching that I continually refer to, and with God's help I hope never to forget.

Fr. Adrian constantly stressed the importance of moderation, the "middle way." As he often expressed it, "The Truth is found not just in the middle, but in the middle of the middle." This was Father's way of cutting off extremes in the spiritual life that cause one to go astray into fruitless paths, or even to spiritual destruction. This is really just common-sense teaching which, it should be noted, was not unique to Fr. Adrian; others throughout history (Christian and non-Christian) have noticed the same reality. The Fathers of the Church stressed that the virtues lie in the "mean" between two opposite vices. For instance, the virtue of courage lies between the vice of rashness and the vice of cowardice. Vices are those things that either fall short or go beyond the virtues (see St. Peter of Damaskos, Discources 19 and 20; and especially St. Gregory of Sinai, On Commandments and Doctrines, 87). Though due to my stupidity and weakness I have often found myself leaning toward extremes, the remembrance of Fr. Adrian's emphasis on this point has helped me recover my balance.

Another central tenet of Fr. Adrian's teaching was a love for St. Silouan and Fr. Sophrony. Fr. Sophrony's book St. Silouan the Athonite was one of the first books Fr. Adrian recommended to me to read; after four readings I am still plumbing the depths of this book. Even though Fr. Adrian is no longer physically present to give me advice and help me work out spiritual questions, he gave me a connection to Fr. Sophrony and St. Silouan that is a reliable aid to the spiritual life.

I am grateful for having known Fr. Adrian, and consider it a sign of God's loving-kindness that I was able to be with him even though it was only for a short time. Aonia i mnimi, vechnaya pamyat, memory eternal.

With the Saints give rest, O Christ, to the soul of Your servant where there is no pain, nor sorrow, nor suffering, but life everlasting. (Orthodox Memorial Service)

Chicken update

2008-07-07T20:28:00.002-04:00

My oldest son tells me that he thinks the "book" with the chicken-passing relay was one of our The Far Side collections. I seem to remember that one now. My sons, the scholars.

Please pass the chicken.

2008-07-07T18:42:00.002-04:00

Like many people in America, we have been watching a little bit of the Olympic trials. One of my sons asked me when they were going to do the "running thing with the guys that pass the rubber chicken." Huh? He insisted that he remembered reading about a 4-man relay where the participants passed each other a rubber chicken; he even modeled the poses as he remembered them from the book. While we all enjoyed a good laugh from this, it did give me an idea--wouldn't it be more interesting if the relay involved passing along a live chicken? Now that would be fun to watch!

Prince Charming's kiss

2008-07-05T09:37:00.002-04:00

I have a Baptism to chant today at noon (yesterday was a Wedding--obviously since God does not take Independence Day weekend off neither should I!), but afterwards I'll probably finish Fr. Dumitru Staniloae's book Orthodox Spirituality. Reading it has been extremely enjoyable. Orthodox Spirituality is a heavy book, literally and figuratively; at just under 400 pages it is a handful, and many passages are dense and complicated so as to need several readings to comprehend. I found it a bit like my reading of Lossky, where I would read 5 or 6 pages without understanding--then suddenly it would click and I would have to go back to re-read. But whatever labor I may have invested to finish this book was well worth it, just to come across sections like this one:

To a great extent, sin has dulled and chained and put an evil spell on the powers of human nature. We don't know the full scope of the powers which our nature is capable of. Envy, care, hate, have clipped its wings. The love which we have for another, or which someone has for us, the trust which people have in us or we have in them--any exit from sinful egotism--unchains unimaginable powers in us, like Prince Charming's kiss which roused Sleeping Beauty from her unnatural paralyzing sleep.

That's what I'm talkin' about!

Rolling Stones

2008-07-02T18:34:00.002-04:00

Rolling stones

Rolling stones over
looking for life,
rummaging in
moist soil, finding
cricket, earwig,
pill bug, millipede;
every square inch filthy rich,
super-abundance,
profusion of existence,
even the dust seems to breathe.
Why? For what? Organisms
small and large, with no
apparent purpose.
The Divine Maker could have
created a simpler world—
colorless, tasteless, monotone—
not nearly so beautiful,
not nearly so alive,
but such is not His way.
No, His way is that
when you roll stones over,
life explodes. Lazarus also
knows of this, but from
the other side of the stone.

Hope and the assurance of salvation

2008-06-28T12:14:00.002-04:00

My wife mentioned a discussion she had with a Protestant friend about the assurance of salvation, and it gave rise to the following thoughts. Forgive the unformed nature of what follows, as I am constantly struggling for the right expressions to explain my thoughts.

Some Christian traditions teach that once a person makes a definite profession of faith in Christ unto salvation, that profession is effective unto the end no matter what events occur in the between time—this is sometimes called the doctrine of eternal security (ES). Experience proves that some people do in fact fall away from faith in Christ; in addition to the good soil in Christ’s parable, there is also stony and thorny soil that receives the seed of the Word yet fails to yield fruit (Luke 8). In order to account for this reality, those that hold to ES teach one of two things about these fallen: either they never really believed to begin with; or their unbelief does not overcome their former belief. Christ has saved them on the basis of His will and/or their profession of faith, and nothing they do afterwards affects the validity of that event. This position tries to do justice to Bible passages like John 5:24, 6:40, Philippians 1:6, and Romans 8:38-39.

The Orthodox take a different view, and teach that it is possible for one that formerly believed in Christ to really fall away to perdition. This position is in keeping with what we read in passages like Hebrews 6:4-12, 10:38-39, and is also in keeping with the Orthodox view of salvation as a living process and not a singular, one-time event. If salvation is life, and a relationship or communion between God and humanity, then it becomes necessary to maintain this relationship. Faith, then, is the daily (moment by moment) presenting of ourselves to our Lord, mourning over our sinfulness, trusting in His great mercy—loving Him, and being drowned in the abyss of His love.

So what does this position on salvation do to “assurance”? Those who hold to ES understand that it is unbearable for the human soul to live in uncertainty about what is most important in life, and wonder how one could accept a view that does not give absolute confidence about one’s destiny. Additionally, to those who hold to ES, any view that humans can fall away seems to deny the power of God’s grace by suggesting that humans have an important role in their salvation.

To both objections (that the Orthodox view teaches an unbearable uncertainty about our relationship to God, and that a belief in the possibility of falling from grace slights God’s power) I would suggest that a more complete understanding of the meaning of hope is necessary. Hope, according to modern definitions, is a feeling, sometimes vague or unfounded, that a desired event will occur. In the older usage of the word there is less uncertainty. Hope can be seen as faith projected into the future:

We can define hope as a certitude of the future things which appears in the person who hopes. If faith is a certitude of various present unseen realities and if when it is powerful it gives even a communion of those realities to the one who believes, hope is the certitude which one has in certain future realities and of the participation which he will have in them. So hope is faith oriented to the future for the one who has it. Hope is faith in an advanced stage. (Fr. Dumitru Staniloae, Orthodox Spirituality, p. 177)

This is precisely how St. Paul understood hope as well:

For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it. (Rom. 8:24-25)

Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope: and hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. (Rom. 5:1-5)

We might notice in the Romans 5 passage that St. Paul places justification, faith, hope, grace, proven character, patience, etc., in relation to each other as a progression, and as all of a piece. We do not experience salvation as a one-time event based on some decision, but salvation is experienced as life, intercommunion, a constant awareness of our being in a relation of love to Another—an entering in and maintaining of communion with Christ.

With this view of hope, it becomes evident that whatever uncertainty one might experience is due to not maintaining communion with Christ. As long as one is with Christ, living in His presence, looking to Him for every need, hope in future salvation is firm. When Christ is one’s life (Col. 3:1-3), when one beholds the glory of Christ and begins to be transformed into His image, one experiences salvation as a progression from “glory to glory” (2 Cor. 3:18).

Our relationship to God is reciprocal—we know from experience that one-sided love is not a relationship. A relationship requires a mutual sharing of life and love; therefore, the Orthodox understand that as long as we live in this world, there is the opportunity for us to fall away from some past decision or profession of faith, or even from the grace given in Baptism. This does not negate the power of God, but instead it stresses the relational quality of our life in Christ.

We fear lest we fall away; however, this does not give rise to panic but to the quiet intensity of profound love. We fear that we would ever do something to grieve our Lord or to cause our hearts to grow cold toward Him. It is not so much the thought of losing future salvation that is unbearable, but rather that we would grieve our Lover. As St. Silouan wrote in his poetic meditation on the Fall, “Adam’s Lament”:

[Adam’s] soul was racked as he thought: ‘I have grieved my beloved Lord.’ He sorrowed less after paradise and the beauty thereof—he sorrowed that he was bereft of the love of God, which insatiably, at every instant, draws the soul to Him.

In the same way the soul which has known God through the Holy Spirit but has afterwards lost grace experiences the torment that Adam suffered. There is an aching and a deep regret in the soul that has grieved the beloved Lord. (In Fr. Sophrony, St. Silouan the Athonite, p. 448)

This is why a doctrine of eternal security is, in our view, unnecessary; and speculation about whether one who fell away was ever really saved is fruitless. Hope does not look backward for assurance of salvation, though we are often helped by remembering past blessings. Hope is also not based on an anticipation of a future event that is disconnected from the present. Hope is based on the fact that one is near to God, not separated from Him by any sinful action or thought, knowing that in His presence is fullness of joy and life everlasting (Psalm 16:11).

On converting pain into spiritual progress

2008-06-26T17:18:00.003-04:00

This is from a series of presentations Fr. Zacharias gave entitled The Hidden Man of the Heart. I listened (again) to the recording today while traveling back and forth to work; what follows is taken from the book by the same name (pp. 103-105). I usually prefer reading to listening, but just hearing his gentle manner and humble approach is inspiring to me.

It is not easy to learn to weep properly. If we weep on the psychological level, we shall wither and quench all life in us; whereas if we weep spiritually, not only will we suffer no harm, but we shall be regenerated. In We Shall See Him as He Is, Fr. Sophrony explains the difference between spiritual and psychological mourning. According to him, psychological mourning is a matter of our confining life to the visible plane. Spiritual weeping occurs when we refer every experience of ours to God, on Whom we depend for everything, for we can only lament the distance that separates us from Him.

We frequently suffer pain and hurt on the psychological level when we encounter energies that crush our heart. But we must rise above these negative experiences, and we do so by exploiting the heart-felt pain of a particular incident and convert it into spiritual energy. Fr. Sophrony often stressed that we must learn to transfer every psychological state--whether due to illness, the scorn of other people, persecution, or the incapacity of our nature--onto the spiritual level by means of a positive thought. And we do this simply by keeping our mind in the place where the Son of God is. We think on those things that are on high, as St. Paul advised the Philippians (cf. Phil. 4:8).

Fr. Zacharias gives this example to clarify what he is saying:

A brother says a harsh word to me and wounds me. There are two ways of reacting to this energy that so crushes my heart. I can react bitterly and say, "How ungrateful of him! I have been so kind to him for years, I pray and care for him, and look how unjustly he treats me! He is a bad man." That is the normal psychological reaction of people in the world. But, there is another reaction. The pain is real and goes straight to the heart, but without even thinking about where this pain came from, I change the direction of my thought and I say, "Lord, You saw my indolence and my negligence and You sent Your angel to wake me up. Have mercy upon us." I use the energy of the emotion and I direct my thought to God and pray for the things I am in need of. We can always use that bitter energy within us to pray for the forgiveness of our sins. So I convert the psychological energy into spiritual energy, and I enter into dialogue with God, and at the end of it I feel refreshed and I do not even remember from where I started, or who dealt me the blow.

This is truly a good word.

Recommended book

2008-06-24T21:57:00.003-04:00

I just, finished Noah Lukemans' book; A Dash of Style. Subtitled The Art and Mastery of Punctuation, I thought, it was: well written-and full of helpful advice! I think? given some time" my punctuation. problems can be helped; by applying the pointers, he has in the book. Highly: recommended,

Stinkhouse wisdom

2008-06-20T17:06:00.002-04:00

I have worked in construction for the past 18 years or so; even when I pastored a church I still did plenty of side-jobs to make ends meet. I have learned a lot in those years, and it is time to pass along some of my acquired knowledge for the new generation of workers.

One of the fixtures of a job site, no matter what trade one works in, is the Port-o-john, which I affectionately call the "stinkhouse." What follows is 18 years of wisdom learned by experience--the squeamish are forewarned.

STINKHOUSE WISDOM

1. Do not: sit on anything, touch anything, or even breathe inside the stinkhouse.

2. Remove all items clipped on belt or pocket--cell phones, car keys, etc.--unless you like fishing in poop water for valuables.

3. Always lock door; always knock before entering.

4. Be prepared for various tricks of on-site mischief-makers: tipping stinkhouse over, dropping rocks down the vent pipe, bumping stinkhouse with vehicle, barricading the door, and slamming the sides of the stinkhouse with a 2 x 4 are common events. (There is no way to prepare for such an event--just remember, payback is sweet.)

5. Remember that the side urinal and air-freshener disk ARE NOT sink and soap.

6. Stinkhouse service-persons ALWAYS arrive at lunch or break--take care to locate yourself upwind.

7. Always check stinkhouse for wasps, snakes, frogs, and other native wildlife before fully entering, or at least before beginning your business.

8a. Always check for clean toilet paper before starting your business.
8b. Because one cannot control when Nature will call, it is wise to keep old gas receipts or Quick-crete bags on hand for emergencies--shirt pockets have also proven to be a life-saver.

9. Keep in mind that stinkhouse seats are scientifically designed to allow for maximum splash. It is best to carry a couple of 2 x 4 lift blocks, since the difference of a few inches is everything. (The blocks also allow one to fulfill Wise Saying #1)

10. Always keep a pen handy--you never know when a more creative moment will occur.

11. Always correct the grammar and spelling of the ill-schooled stinkhouse wall poet.

12. And finally--please, for the sake of all that is virtuous, CLOSE THE LID when you are done. When I go in to do Number 1, it is extremely unpleasant to have to see your Number 2.

Is Google Making Us Stupid?

2008-06-18T16:21:00.002-04:00

"Over the past few years I’ve had an uncomfortable sense that someone, or something, has been tinkering with my brain, remapping the neural circuitry, reprogramming the memory. My mind isn’t going—so far as I can tell—but it’s changing. I’m not thinking the way I used to think. I can feel it most strongly when I’m reading. Immersing myself in a book or a lengthy article used to be easy. My mind would get caught up in the narrative or the turns of the argument, and I’d spend hours strolling through long stretches of prose. That’s rarely the case anymore. Now my concentration often starts to drift after two or three pages. I get fidgety, lose the thread, begin looking for something else to do. I feel as if I’m always dragging my wayward brain back to the text. The deep reading that used to come naturally has become a struggle."

Read the remainder of this excellent article by Nicholas Carr here.

Care for the world, care for our children

2008-06-16T17:25:00.002-04:00

This is an excerpt from an essay by Wendell Berry that not only deserves to be read, but memorized.

I know of nothing that so strongly calls into question our ability to care for the world as our present abuses of our own reproductivity. How can we take care of the other creatures, all born like ourselves from the world's miraculous fecundity, if we have forsaken the qualities of culture and character that inform the nurture of children?

Maybe it is because our society is so dominated by the economic ideal of productivity that we have no time for people who are not highly productive. Or maybe it is because of our rather frivolous idea of personal freedom that we shrug off the claims of those most in need and most deserving of our care. Or maybe it is the fault of an economy that now requires both parents of many families to work away from home. Or maybe it is the increasing commercialization of family relationships, according to which nobody, not even a husband or a wife, should do anything for anybody else that is not compensated by a price agreed upon in advance.

Whatever the reason, it is a fact that we are now conducting a sort of general warfare against children, who are being abandoned, abused, aborted, drugged, bombed, neglected, poorly raised, poorly fed, poorly taught, and poorly disciplined. Many of them will not only find no worthy work, but no work of any kind. All of them will inherit a diminished, diseased, and poisoned world. We will visit upon them not only our sins but also our debts. We have set before them thousands of examples--governmental, industrial, and recreational--suggesting that the violent way is the best way. And we have the hypocrisy to be surprised and troubled when they carry guns and use them.

There are of course many parents who care properly for their children, and traditions of good upbringing still survive. But, like the local traditions of good land-use, these traditions of family life have become subordinate. As a lot of parents have found out, it is not easy to bring up your children in a way that is significantly different from the way your neighbors are bringing up their children.

A child psychologist told me not long ago that he frequently sees four-year-olds who, when asked, "Who loves you?" reply, "I don't know." If we have even a suspicion that we must not exempt anything from care, how can we bear this? And yet this neglect is hedged around on every side by talk of rights and freedoms and careers and professions.

Abortion, for instance, which might be defensible as a tragic choice acceptable in the most straitened circumstances, is defended as a "right" derived from "the right of a woman to control her own body." The right of any person to control her or his own body, subject to the usual qualifications, is incontestable--or, at any rate, it is not going to be contested by me. But the usual qualifications hold that if you can control your own body only by destroying another persons body, then control has come too late. Self-mastery is the appropriate way to control one's own body, not surgery.

I am well aware of the argument that a fetus is not a child until it can live outside the womb, but I am aware also that every creature is surrounded by such questions of dependency and viability all its life. If we are unworthy to live as long as we are dependent on life-supporting conditions, then none of us has any rights. And I would not try to convince any farmer or gardener that the planted seed newly sprouted is not a crop.

Pentecost, thunderstorm, and Wolfe (unrelated thoughts--they just happened to occur on the same day)

2008-06-15T16:04:00.007-04:00

Today has been a great day. This morning marked the celebration of Orthodox Pentecost, the beauty of which is hard to match; today we also celebrated my good friend Fr. John's 30 year anniversary in the priesthood; this afternoon I've been sitting here (or standing on the porch when the wind allowed) watching a big ol' Southern thunderstorm blow through, complete with hail, high winds, thunder and lightning; a pot of coffee is brewing, and I'm reading some Thomas Wolfe.
. . . . . .

Awhile back I wrote this fragment of a poem--

Tick-tock.
The glinting steel
That slices through life--
Slow death, quickly realized.

I just read this from Thomas Wolfe, in his "Like the River"--

And it takes time,
Dark, delicate time,
The little ticking moments of strange time
That count us into death.

No surprise that his is much better.

On Faith

2008-06-14T13:55:00.002-04:00

He [Abraham] staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God; and being fully persuaded that, what he [God] had promised, he was able also to perform. (Rom. 4:20-21)

. . . and be not faithless, but believing. (John 20:27)

Said I not unto thee, that, if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God? (John 13:40)

_______________________________

Everything comes down to this point: the moment of faith. Those with faith in the promises of God have no hesitation, since being “fully persuaded” that God will fulfill His promises gives birth to fearlessness, patience, and unfathomable peace. Abraham was told he would have a son even though he was almost a century old—“as good as dead,” as it is wryly stated in Hebrews 11:12. Not only this, he was told that his descendents would be as numerous as the flickering stars of heaven. While Sarah giggled to herself at the prophecy (and who can blame her?), Abraham was fully persuaded. And though we do not read of it, I take this to mean that he began gathering baby supplies.

Even more astounding is the level of faith Abraham later displayed when he journeyed to Mt. Moriah to sacrifice Isaac. We often have this image of Abraham trudging along, head hanging down in grief, full of inward struggles and silent railing against God. This image, though, is not how Abraham acted, but only a projection of how we would likely react. Kierkegaard says it well:

When a call was issued to thee, didst thou answer, or didst thou not answer perhaps in a low voice, whisperingly? Not so Abraham: joyfully, buoyantly, confidently, with a loud voice, he answered, “Here am I.” We read further: “And Abraham rose early in the morning”—as though it were to a festival, so he hastened, and early in the morning he had come to the place spoken of, to Mount Moriah. . . . And there he stood, the old man, with his only hope! But he did not doubt, he did not look anxiously to the right or to the left, he did not challenge heaven with his prayers. He knew that it was God the Almighty who was trying him, he knew that it was the hardest sacrifice that could be required of him; but he knew also that no sacrifice was too hard when God required it—and he drew the knife. (Fear and Trembling, “A Panegyric on Abraham”)

How was it that Abraham possessed such obedience to the hard commands of God? Very simply, he accounted “that God was able to raise him [Isaac] up, even from the dead” (Heb. 11:19). We see from this that faith is a movement not of logic (as a mere intellectual exercise, a tallying up of empirical facts) but of the deep heart—faith brings the realm of the Eternal in contact with the present moment. Yet faith is not illogical, since if God is who He says He is, nothing “is too hard for the Lord” (Gen. 18:14), and it is on the certainty of the Eternal Fact of God (the God-Who-Is) that faith operates. Faith makes eternal realities present. Faith is a spiritual awareness of (and acceptance of) mystery; a joining of the Infinite with the finite; a denial of impossibilities, since impossibilities have no place in God.

The problem is that we rely too much on the senses, and attempt to erect our lives solely on the physical: what we can see, touch, hear, smell, or taste. Our physical senses are reliable insofar as they go, and they can even lead us into some preliminary knowledge of God and His ways—but they are not the primary faculties for experiencing the Infinite. Fr. Dumitru Staniloae calls faith a “plus of evidence” (Orthodox Spirituality, p. 127). Faith adds something beyond the senses into the equation. Therefore, faith is a certainty beyond empirical certainty (Heb. 11:1). Faith goes beyond the knowledge that God can do mighty acts, and expects Him to do so—based not on circumstances or possibilities, but on who God is—and acts accordingly. Abraham didn’t look at Sarah’s growing belly and think to himself, Now how did that happen? Abraham didn’t look over at the ram in the thicket and say, What the . . . Isn’t this a welcome surprise!

Doubt is an embargo on the power of God. “And he did not many mighty works there because of their unbelief” (Matt. 13:58). We want to see great things from God; we want to watch the mountains removed into the sea; we want to give birth to a son at 100 years old. But we also want to live safe lives, and are unwilling to risk the faith that bets every single particle of life on the God who is Love. Really, the world doesn’t need any more practical, safe, calculating Christians. We come up with a thousand reasons why we can’t get out of the boat and walk to Christ. Our doubt keeps us from saying, “Bid me come unto thee” (Matt. 14:28), because we know God just might say, “Well, come on then.”

Pride and humility

2008-06-13T20:39:00.002-04:00

If pride blinds our eyes to the infinite reality of God, humility makes them see it. So, whatever we do, as long as we lack humility, as long as there is a trace of pride in us, we lack the thrill of contact with God; we lack the profound consciousness of a deeper relationship with God, and neither do we make others feel it. Where humility is lacking, there is superficiality, the commonplace, a closed horizon, the kind of conceit that provokes a smile of pity. Only the humble lives in the immeasurable depths, full of mystery, in God.

Fr. Dumitru Staniloae, Orthodox Spirituality