Humble, but Proud of it: the Struggle for a Christian Life

When I think of a scientist in the truest form and function, I think of someone like Archimedes, or Copernicus, or Gallileo. They wanted to understand how thigns worked, and they wanted to find the truth of matters, insomuch as it was possible to measure and describe them within the perceptible physical universe.

A theologian or philosopher seeks truth in the same way, but within slightly different spheres that, in some areas, for certain reasons, overlap. In these areas, I believe it is a different part of the human being that is attempting to make out what is happening. For a religious person with a strong scientific love of measurement, relationships, synthesis and extrapolation, they are exploring the scientific world within their sphere--religion. A religious person shouldn't expect a non-religious scientist to give their worldview credence, nor is it fair or reasonable for a scientist to scoff ant a religious person's worldview, as if it can be compared to his own. To the person for whom empirical evidence is the touchstone of all scientific truth, the struggle to understand the spiritual universe and the Laws and Theories that exist to describe how all things work, interact and function within it, is a fool's errand. Likewise, a spiritual person will see the narrow confines of the modern Scientific Method and worldview as one devoid of any deep understanding or benefit, but rather a shallow, dead pool of knowledge.

In a way, the scientist is simply a seeker and finder of truth, of a certain sort. I don't know if Archimedes would have been able to accept the Darwinian model of the origin of species and the mechanisms to which the theory ascribes the biodiversity observed today. There is so much indoctrination, so many gaps, and so many disproven facets of what is taught as doctrine now... The gaps in the fossil records, the presupposition of certain sequences, relationships and causalities should give any good scientist enough grist to see the Darwinian Evolutionary thesis as a theory still in need of development and filling in.

Reading Darwin's original Origin of Species shows a person who had a eureka moment, based on some very unique observations and original work that he certainly augmented (actually borrowed/stole/pre-empte) from Wallace's similar observations and thesis from Borneo and Irian Jaya a full 9 months before Darwin. Charles had friends on the faculty, Wallace was a Scot, and didn't have much clout--the faculty sat on his work, giving Darwin time to work on his own thesis and steal the show. This is documented, not crackpot theory.

Likewise, there are som many gaps, so many disproven ideas, which still proliferate and exist in the Christian religion, as well as Islam and other religions--schism, subdivisions and individualistic rationalism is the order of the day. If a Christian from the 6th century, for example, visited a typical Protestant Christian church today, he would likely be as confused and disappointed as I think Archimedes would be at the modern interpretation of "science"--perhaps even horrified. A Roman Catholic church would probably be met with only a little less incredulity.

If one is religious, one should make that the lens through which one views the world, and struggle to bring it into ever more focus and clarity. Likewise if the modern, purely physical, empirical scientific understanding of the world is one's chosen way to view things. What I think is truly a fool's errand, beyond any expectation of success, is to the attempt to reconcile these two to each other, hoping for an outcome that does not betray one, or negate the other.

If you are religious, pursue science in a way that accords with your beliefs, and see what you find. I have done this, and take great pleasure in discovering things that cannot be empirically measured or accepted by modern science--and I'm not alone, there are many rational, intelligent people with whom I can discuss, within my worldview, the very scientific subjects in which I am interested. I personally have confirmed that small passerine birds, and animals in general, can sense powerful emotions and moreover seem attracted (domestic and wild) by sorrow, prayer, and asking for forgiveness. Sounds odd, but I have no doubt of it. Now, do I expect any of you to believe it too? Of course not, whether you believe it or not, I would say: if you want to know something, find out for yourself. If you care enough to find the truth, you will find it. My life becomes richer and more meaningful every time I discover something new to marvel at, for which I can give thanks to my creator. Is it any of your business? Do I care if you believe what I do? Will any snide or disparaging comments make me suddenly reject what I know from personal experience, my empirical evidence?

Would someone, telling you that a red-hot bar of steel wouldn't burn if you picked it up, convince you to do so? Just as you have had incontrovertible evidence that red-hot metal will always hurt your unprotected hand, I have had the same that has shown me things just as undeniable. Do I think you should believe becaue I had such experiences? No! I would hope that a true scientist would seek to find the truth diligently, leaning on no-one else's evidence as if it were their own...despite the incredibly thorough "peer-review" we have been given.

To a modern scientist, these sound rediculous, of course:
The sign of the cross and Orthodox prayer are capable of killing microbes and change the optical properties of water - a study

And there are the observations made on water changing molecular bond angle simply from a person walking into a room--from the film What the Bleep Do We Know?!
What an interesting and consoling world we divorce ourselves from if we only recognize the sensible physical world...oh except for quarks and speciation and things we haven't yet seen, but we figure simply HAVE to be there.

Something that has been a repeated, predictable unexplained phenomenon, observed by millions of people for millenia, recorded in ancient history, and still seen today, even on video--"Well, it can't actually be measured or proven, so it probably doesn't exist." But religious people are the flat-earthers. *shrug* Suit yourself, that's what it's all about really, anyway.

If we cannot be faithful even in the little things God gives us, it is silly to think or hope that God will give us greater things than these. To do so would only be to our detriment, our undoing, and instead of bringing joy, would cast us into despair. How can we recognize when we do this? I have had this lesson brought home to me (yet again) this week.

In the heat of Summer, everyone in my neighborhood is outside, most of the time--kids playing in the street and field, in troops behind the houses, looking in windows, dropping trash. Teenagers hang out, smoking, swearing, riding bikes in circles and swearing some more. Adults outside, walking strollers, drinking beer, washing their cars, radios blaring, yelling up and down the block, in various states of dress (and undress), pretty much living life loud and proud, but without much posing or pretending. My neighbors are who they are, and they aren't ashamed to be who they are, which can be a refreshing change from people who are very conscious of their social obligation not to cause waves and keep to themselves. Our neighborhood is one of a shared commons, with playground, gardening plots, laundry room, surrounding fields and woods, etc. shared, for the most part, even down to water spigots and hoses. In other words, a thousand opportunities to practice Christian love of neighbor, humility, patience, keeping silence; a veritable garden of the virtues outside my door. I seem to spend most of my time in the weeds by the wayside, complaining, grumbling, judging and wishing I could rule this tiny kingdom to make everything the "way it should be done": my way! Needless to say, Christ in His mercy allows me numerous occasions to submit to His will, allowing temptations, humiliations and small injuries to my carefully-maintained facade of easygoing niceguy heyman, I'mcool.

The nights go late, and even though the neighborhood quiet-time is 10:00, it sometimes takes a bit longer for things to quiet down. All week I'd been 1) having temptations of anger, resentment and impatience with my neighbors, and 2) almost completely succumbing to those temptations. Their kids broke the branches of a neighborhood cherry tree that all the kids like to visit, picked all the cherries, had a fight with them and didn't eat one. Smashed cherries on the sidewalk, in the street, on the lawn. So much good fruit, wasted! Then they left the communal hose out--it took us four neighborhood meetings with the property owners last year to convince them to let each block of houses have their own hose--and kids playing with hoses is not allowed. Filling pools, buckets, having water fights, all OK, but no water balloons left burst in pieces in the street, no hose fights or leaving the water running, no spraying down sidewalks or the street.

We had just got a reminder about all this posted to our doors a few days before. So what were they doing with the hose? Filling water balloons which were left popped. Spraying water in the street. Leaving the hose running. This was also their neighbor, a teenage girl on their other side, who knows better, but is a bit of a ditz, so we'll give her the benefit of the doubt. I avoid talking to ditzy's mom because she saw me leaving the house for church one day in my Podrasnik and seems to think that speaking to me is a really bad idea. :-)) Once when I said "hi" in the laundry room, she just looked slightly desperate and sidled out the door. *sigh* People are so simple and dumb in their own innocent way, I just feel kind of sad and bemused and compassionate for us all. Lord have mercy.

Well, then the new neighbor's baby toddled into the street and decided to drop his loaded diaper there before heading back home. It stayed there for over 24 hours, and I don't know who picked it up, just that when I told the older sister, she denied it, and questioned whether it was her job to deal with it. OK, so mom is a little absent, I'm maybe wondering how a toddler got to a point more than 100 feet from the house, in the middle of the street. Either no-one was watching (scary bad) or was watching but didn't want to walk over and pick up the malodorous little trash-bomb he dropped (frustrating bad). Bad either way. Therefore they are bad people. Therefore they are somehow less than me. And why should I have to put up with such less-than-me type people? Life is hard enough without that! It' so unfair. No one understands. Mine is a high and lonely destiny...why must everything be so hard?  Etcetera ad nauseum. Eventually I come to myself, and catch a glimpse of this pathetic excuse for a Christian in the mirror. Wallowing in mud again! Back to confession I go.

Then, tonight, I begin to say my pre-communion prayers. The windows are all open because of the heat, and from the house next door floods stupifying, toe tapping top-40 "music", punctuated by the frenzied, midsummer night chaos of 5-6 kids running all over the house screaming, laughing, shouting, and knocking things over. Occasionally this elicits a weary "Cut it out!" or plaintive "Stop!" from the mom (completely ineffectual). A scene worthy of a Louisa May Alcott novel set in modern times. Par for the course in this neighborhood, and certainly preferable to the angry screaming, swearing, shouting and thudding with which our former other neighbors, on the other side, often kept us up at night.

Either way, I've got prayers to do, and that's important, which makes me important, because I'm the one doing important things, things that these other people couldn't possibly understand, so even if I humbled myself and went over and asked them to turn it down, I know they would just get irate, because they're obviously selfish. They wouldn't care. (Untrue and unfair of me to even think so! They have always been willing to listen.) They don't understand how important I am when I'm doing this important thing. Now where was I? Oh, yes. These important prayers of humility and self-examination. Right. These prayers of repentance and confession. O, Lord, have mercy. Better start over. Sweetest Jesus, save us!

I have attention deficit (AKA "the Hunter gene") which makes getting through prayers a challenge at the best of times. Now I was muttering to myself, one finger in my ear, trying desperately not to judge, not to be indignant, not to feel put-upon, not to think anything ending with the words "so unfair!", trying to be able to understand each canon troparion from beginning to end, and actually pray the words, to feel them. After a few minutes of a particularly repetitive soul sister's big hit, paired with a truly manic surge of preteen shrieking and giggles, I began to feel like I was next door to a sororities' pillowfight olympics. I looked up from my prayer book and looked at the icon of Christ. "Are you serious?" I asked. "I have to put up with this? Can't I just have a little peace?" He looked back at me, so human, so knowing, so loving, and---dare I say--bemused? My thoughts came back to me, a reflection in this mirror of manhood made perfect: "Are you serious? Can you put up with this? Lovest thou me?"
I realize, of course, I can endure this tiny bit of suffering.  I can endure smashed cherries, and trash, noise and bother, because what would I be if I couldn't? Would I be a Christian? A follower? A true lover and confessor? Peter confessed Him first and was given to be the chief of the Apostles. He denied Him thrice, and yet was still the chief. He loved The Master, and would serve Him still. How much good fruit have I spoiled by my bad habits and laziness? How much trash, how much noise, how much bother have I caused? What kind of neighbor have I been, in my spiritual neighborhood? Still Christ wants me for His  servant, to crown me at the end of the contest.

This feeling was all wrapped up into two seconds of getting it, as I looked back at Him. I accepted, gladly, this small struggle He offered to me to endure for His sake. This was as much struggle as I was worthy of. Could I handle it? Was I going to cave in? If I couldn't do even this, truly, what did I ever hope to be able to do? So I looked down at my prayer book and continued. Within 10 seconds, the entire house next door fell silent. The music stopped. The kids quieted. The TV ceased blathering. I could hear crickets!

Such is the clarity of message God is willing to give to encourage even a weak, puffed-up nobody. The peace lasted about 15 seconds. The soul-sister started her ballad again, from the top(!), repetitive and simplistic as ever--the better to become stuck in your head with, my dear. The kids erupted into a cacophony worthy of battle--a pirates vs. kung-fu monkeys battle. The mom wearily called "go to bed" (it wouldn't happen for another two hours), and I took up my tiny cross again. The next prayer was to the Guardian Angel:
 
"Abolish present disturbance from my heart,
and strengthen me to be vigilant in good, O my Guardian,
and guide me miraculously to quietness of life."

I easily absorbed every word and repeated them as a heartfelt plea...and then  burst out laughing, involuntarily. Perhaps a bit hysterically. Yes, "miraculous" would be the word to use, no doubt about it. My wife was certainly puzzled at such an approach to prayer. Soon, I found myself muttering again, finger in one ear, holding the book close to my face as if to block out every other sense as I read each word. My mind felt like it was in several pieces, each spinning away on its own trajectory. It's a very difficult and unsettling sensation that happens often for ADDers. There is no single unified thought, but 4 or 5 different thoughts, only vaguely related to each other, all happening at once, like several trains on the same network, chugging at different speeds to different stations and endpoints,stopping trading cars, moving toward or away or stalling altogether. I finally made it to the end, nerves frayed dangerously close to snapping, but the race run. I don't remember ever taking that long, nor having to work so hard, to keep my mind on what are arguably the most important and solemn prayers I read all week. My back had totally seized up, my muscles felt like they had been beaten with a stick. Apropos, considering we celebrated the memory of St. Paul the Apostle as well. I limped to the couch with some water and a couple ibuprofen. My wife looked up from reading.
"Hi honey!" she smiled sweetly. "Done already?"
 

It can also hail, sleet, snow, get foggy and even show a break of sun and a rainbow. So. You ready to hear what I have going on?

• My grandmother reposed on Troitsa (Pentecost) Sunday. She never changed her will, so she is to be cremated, my family has no power of attorney, and she cannot be given Orthodox burial because of her cremation. She can however, be buried with my Mother, in her coffin! Please keep handmaiden of God Larissa in your prayers.
  
• My mother, Agafia, will die within the next month or two, by the looks of things. Her bone cancer continues to spread, and if she doesn't break something soon, the tumor in her breast may become bigger than her skin can accommodate, or the lesion in her skull will press too hard on her brain, making it impossible for her to eat, starving her to death. Please keep her in your prayers.
• We were chosen to be the recipients of the next Habitat for Humanity house being built here in Corvallis. This is like winning the lottery for us, perhaps better. We will be involved in the building of the house from the foundation up, have to make a down payment of only$5000 dollars, and the mortgage is interest-free. As in 0%. We signed papers a week ago, but it could still not happen. The funding must all come together at the right time, with City, County, State and Federal dollars all involved at the same time, as well as Habitat International. Please pray for our family!
  
• The St. Herman Brotherhood was evacuated from the Monastery yesterday as wildfires moved toward the location. Their last e-mail before the entire town of Platina evacuated: to whit, if the wind shifts in a certain direction, the entire monastery could burn to the ground. St. Herman, protect thy flock, we pray!
• I will likely be leaving with my brother soon to represent the family at my grandmother's memorial service. It will be at a Unitarial Universal, I'm expected to light a candle in the memorial service, and the hymns to be sung never even mention God. This could be a temptation to take part in an ecumenist, Godless mockery, or an opportunity to be a witness of the faith. Maybe both. Please pray for me, I'm not sure what God wants from me here, which means I have to pray more, and be diligent and focused. I'm the opposite of all that.

All this happened in less than two weeks time, as well as some rather bad incidents of throwing out my back, forgetting to pay the phone bill and losing service, and watching the kids' school year be trashed by computer errors and administrative mismanagement at the very last three days.
I'm really trying not to complain. This is all okay with me, and I accept it--or am trying to--with grace, bravery and patience. I know that "these things happen", but I also know they happen not just "for a reason". It is for a very specific reason that they happen. We ask for it. Every day!

In our prayers, Morning and Evening, as well as the Hours and in every service, we ask God to guide us, to "correct our thoughts", to save us from the snares of the enemy. How else can it happen? If we do not choose the path of voluntary struggle and the breaking of our self-will,  then God in His mercy obliges us, and gives us what we ask for. Opportunities to reject our passions, to suffer, to endure, to bear patiently the struggles set before us. How else can He draw us to himself, when we don't voluntarily draw near to Him, yet we ask over and over to be drawn near? It's God fulfilling His promise to us, showing He is with us! This is how we can say "Glory be to God for all things!" in all honesty and joy, not just mouth the words and wonder what could happen next. This merciful evidence of God's care is why, when everything is going smoothly, without troubles or sorrows, that the old Babushki raise their hands and sigh: "Ah, God has abandoned me! He has given up trying to help me!" They know what it takes to awake a sinful soul; to turn away from evil and do good. This is my wake-up call. The rest of my Orthodox Life starts here. Do I say my prayers tonight, even though I'm so tired and my back hurts? Will I diligently seek Him out, or wait for even greater burdens to drive me to fly for refuge? What will it take for me to get serious? I'm afraid to ask. Or will everything fall into place, leaving me to wonder, too, if God has abandoned His efforts to correct me?

From this day, from this hour, from this very minute, let us strive to love God above all, and to do His Holy will.
-St. Herman of Alaska

In the spring of 1980, my mom and I visited an old friend of hers that was living in the foothills of Northern California in a tiny town called Platina. It was there that we were persuaded to visit an Russian Orthodox Monastery tucked away in the mountains above the town; and it was there that I met the men who would rapidly awaken in my heart the desire to unite myself to Christ through his Holy Church. This is the story of my journey--my first-hand experience during the first 25 years of Orthodoxy. I invite you to join me as I describe the people, places, events and struggles I have had. My goal is not to instruct. Using my own experiences as an example, I will share good and wonderful things with all glory being to God. I will also show despicable and regrettable things with myself as the example, without excuse or blame. This is the Orthodox life--God's generosity and grace shown in the life of an unworthy and reprobate prodigal, who both squanders his inheritance and yet somehow manages to make a few good decisions, only by the grace of God. It is my hope that by writing down the lessons I have been taught-- through negligence and diligence, by suffering patiently, by rebelling willfully, in holy places, and in the gutter, whether as a child, or just last week--I can awaken myself to realize the Talent I have been given, resurrect it from the earth in which it is buried, and once again trade wisely and diligently to bring to the Lord His rightful due with interest.

I am, in truth, a wicked and slothful servant--but I don't want to be! Perhaps by recounting what I have done, and what came of it, good and bad, you may gain some insight, see a warning, have a question answered or simply feel closer to a fellow struggler. Outside of my own benefit and self-examination through retelling my experiences, I have another goal in mind: to help and encourage converts to Orthodoxy in their formative (first 20) years. Not by giving advice (God preserve us from the advice of laymen!), but by sharing my own weaknesses, faults and habits, and the moments that show God's great and overabundant love and mercy, despite them. I hope that this might lead to others sharing their experience, strength and hope with others in a spirit of love. Eventually, perhaps we might have some interactive discourse--think PostSecret meets 12-steps in an Orthodox context, and you'll understand what I'm imagining. If you think this idea has merit and could be of spiritual benefit, please come and read. Test my work and judge it by it's fruit--"by their fruit ye shall know them"--does it distract? Does it inspire? Is it worthwhile? Is it the right idea or message but done in the wrong way? I have my confessor to guide me, but you'll have to judge for yourself if this is of benefit to you. In all things, let the glory be to God. To paraphrase the end of an Al-Anon or AA meeting, "take what is of spiritual benefit, and leave the rest". Pray for me!

A glorious Pascha! Christ Is Risen!

One of my godchildren, (in his 50's, about 4 years old) who had stopped attending church about 2 years ago, decided to return, and started coming to Lenten services during the final 3 weeks of the fast. He was calling me often during the week, sometimes talking for hours; he had a lot to talk about and questions to ask! Then during Holy Week, I stopped hearing from him. On Holy Saturday, I decided to call and make sure he had a ride to church. Just by the tone of his voice, I could hear that his old reticence had crept in--he had allowed himself to become convinced that Pascha wasn't worth going to if he was not able to receive the Holy Mysteries! Father would want to know why (true), he wasn't feeling too well anyway, he was really tired, he wouldn't be able to get there on time, he'd made up his mind, don't get on his case, etc. *sigh* :^) Ok, pep talk time...

Glory be to God, not only did he come, but he had an epiphany of sorts: as he opened the door of the church "this beautiful golden light poured out, and the choir's voices sounded like angels; and then WHAMMO, it suddenly hit me: why would I want to be anywhere else?! I don't think I'll ever forget it." Glory be to Thee O Lord!

Indeed, why would any of us want to be anywhere else than at the empty tomb of our Lord! Yet, we all have had those moments when going back to Church, for some reason, seems to be intolerable. What I told him, he said, helped him a lot, so I will repeat the gist of it here in case it might benefit any of you who have come to read.

First, know and acknowledge these feelings for what they are, and from whom they come! Second, do not go to Church for anyone but Christ, and do not avoid Church for anyone but Christ. If you do not want Him, don't go for some other reason. Finally, think to a week or a month from now--will you be glad of this decision, or are you making a decision based on the fickle emotions of the moment?

Regarding the first point: as long as you are willing to entertain any thought that begins with "I really can't go to church because", the enemy will supply all the reasons, logic and excuse needed to go along with it and secure you in this delusion. Don't fool yourself with reason and justification. If you aren't going to go, call a spade a spade, and simply call it what it is. "I just don't want to", or "I want to do my own thing" or "I feel rebellious", etc. Then at least you will allow your soul to feel remorse, and to want to do better. Self-justification doesn't allow this. The enemy loves nothing better than to steal the joy of the Feast of Feasts! All over the world, he and his servants strive to convince us that we should not go--when the reality is that ALL are bidden to come. The only one who is not invited is the enemy, and even he would be, were it possible! This is why the Church, in Her wisdom, decrees that only one Paschal Sermon is given, in all the world--that of St. John Chrysostom. He clearly addresses this with the entire first half of the sermon, dispelling any doubt, in any mind, that the Lord's feast is for anyone but them:
    "If any have delayed until the ninth hour, let him draw near, fearing nothing. If any have tarried even until the eleventh hour, let him, also, be not alarmed at his tardiness; for the Lord, who is jealous of his honor, will accept the last even as the first; he gives rest unto him who comes at the eleventh hour, even as unto him who has wrought from the first hour."
The key to avoiding this temptation, I have found (after choosing the wrong choice, over and over--and I'm not out of the woods yet), is to answer the following questions with total honesty: do I want to go but can't? Have I done all I can to get to church? Do I need to take a rest from a service so that I will have strength to attend others? (the "long haul" outlook) Can I go, but don't want to?  After this, it is usually pretty clear where my right path leads.

As to my second point, it's simple. Don't go to church because you're expected to by others. Don't avoid it because you don't want people asking "Why haven't you been coming?", or to avoid a person, or to spare yourself some imagined humiliation. If you must sit when everyone else stands, and this makes you feel others are judging, this is no reason to not attend church. Who cares what others think of how you dress, or if you're late. If you know you should dress more properly but can't be bothered, then you are preferring your own will over the reverence due to Christ. If you can get there early, but must fuss with your appearance so much it makes you late, you're being attentive to yourself  and neglecting the attentiveness due Christ. If you have no strength but to drag yourself through the door and collapse, then go in whatever clothes you have! Christ wants you. If you want Him, then go, to the best of your knowledge and ability.

May God show His infinite mercy to us in ways we can understand, such that we have no doubt as to the immediate gifts He bestows on those who strive to worship Him!

Christ Is Risen!
O Death, where is thy sting?
O Hell, where is thy victory?
He Is Risen, Indeed!

What possessed me to start a blog during Holy Week? Well, I was trying to find a music file for Balakirev's "The Angel Cried" for the Paschal Matins service, and this was the only place I could find on, on another profile. So I had to leave a comment. Which meant I had to sign up. And then I just "had to" choose profile colors, "had to" write some bio, and then "had to" post, even though it will be weeks or months before anyone ever stumbles onto my page...and I really "had to" go to bed hours ago...meh, sleep is for those who have normal brain chemistry. I'm feeling like I'm just warming up.

A week of sacraments! Confession Friday night, two baptisms on Palm Sunday, Holy Unction on Monday, and I got my pre-communion prayers done and received the gifts at Presanctified tonight!

I think I might not lose my voice until after Pascha this year, too! As God grants.

I wonder if this page will get any farther than my MySpace page?

At least I got a really good blog entry up over there about Fr. Seraphim and Fr. Herman. If it makes my mom cry, it's good enough, right?