Posts
Thursday, April 05, 2012
Monday, April 02, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Unfortunately, There Will Be No Icons of This Man....
(I think I've reposted someone else's stuff once in 800+ posts. This is the second time.
This is a story retold with
permission from a friend, slightly edited to protect identities. His Dad is a
retired minister who sometimes does weddings for people on the fringes of society.)
My Dad drove into this
apartment complex that he said looked very run down. The people, mostly
white (which in the poor part of our town essentially means a meth problem
instead of a crack one), looked rough. He gets to the apartment where the
wedding is to take place and nobody is parked out front and there is no
activity there. He calls the mother of the bride several times and there
is no answer. He decides to wait until 15 minutes after the wedding was
supposed to have started.
About 5 minutes after the wedding should have been going, the mother of the bride shows up. She is drunk. She lets him in the apartment. The place is a dump and not decorated for a wedding. Some neighbors start bringing over folding chairs. In about 20 minutes time there are maybe a dozen people there. The groom shows up and is introduced to my dad. He's in his early 50s and very quiet and somber.
About 5 minutes after the wedding should have been going, the mother of the bride shows up. She is drunk. She lets him in the apartment. The place is a dump and not decorated for a wedding. Some neighbors start bringing over folding chairs. In about 20 minutes time there are maybe a dozen people there. The groom shows up and is introduced to my dad. He's in his early 50s and very quiet and somber.
Eventually
the bride comes downstairs into the living room and dad said that she looked
like death - extremely pale, skinny, just like a meth head, and appearing very
nervous, in a wrinkled dress, and perhaps in her late 20s.
Dad didn't
know what to think. She had a three year old daughter who was the only
person there remotely dressed for a wedding, in a flower dress. The child
ran around the living room, around her mother, around my dad, taking toys to
show him and being generally interruptive throughout the
ceremony. Dad goes through the usual no bells and whistles ritual and
notices that groom and bride both look awkward and uncomfortable around each
other.
When it comes time for the bride and groom to kiss, they don't.
Dad prods them several times, and finally the groom quickly kisses the
very awkward bride on the cheek. At this point dad is getting a little
nervous. He is not sure, perhaps there is something nefarious going on
here.
After the wedding was over and the paperwork was signed, the groom walks out the door and goes into another apartment a few doors down. Dad doesn't see him again. In a few minutes there are only 4 or 5 people left, all family of the bride. They hand dad a tip in addition to his normal $150.00 wedding fee, which is notable in itself because more than half of the weddings dad does are for the elite in extravagant settings. The few times dad has ever been offered a tip it has been after doing a wedding for the other half.
The small cohort that remains begins drinking and dad chats up the grandmother of the bride. She, a world weary early 60s-ish lady who tells dad that she owns her own laundromat, has a long cigarette hanging from her lips and is more than a few drinks into the day herself. Long-cig Grandma gives dad a careful looking over and then tells him what it was all about.
After the wedding was over and the paperwork was signed, the groom walks out the door and goes into another apartment a few doors down. Dad doesn't see him again. In a few minutes there are only 4 or 5 people left, all family of the bride. They hand dad a tip in addition to his normal $150.00 wedding fee, which is notable in itself because more than half of the weddings dad does are for the elite in extravagant settings. The few times dad has ever been offered a tip it has been after doing a wedding for the other half.
The small cohort that remains begins drinking and dad chats up the grandmother of the bride. She, a world weary early 60s-ish lady who tells dad that she owns her own laundromat, has a long cigarette hanging from her lips and is more than a few drinks into the day herself. Long-cig Grandma gives dad a careful looking over and then tells him what it was all about.
The bride has stage four
non-hodgkin's lymphoma. She has no insurance. The apartment complex
did a little BBQ fundraiser for her and it only raised a few hundred dollars.
The 50 something neighbor, a loner who doesn't talk much, was at that
event. Afterwards, when they were cleaning up the paper plates and empty
beer cans, the man approached the mother and grandmother of the sick girl.
He works at the railroad and has excellent insurance. He says that
he knows that he will never marry again, meaning not under normal
circumstances. He offers to get legally married to the girl so that she
gets insurance - no questions asked, no expectations, he said any bills sent to
him wouldn't be much and he would take care of them - no relationship or sex or
money or anything else in return.
Long-cig grandma says that upon hearing
this they thought it was too good to be true, surely he is after something, and
if not he is crazy to take the risk (as dad put it "in her world this act
was not only unfamiliar, but insane" - no one gives without expecting
something in return), but the family checks him out, verifies that all that he
said was indeed the case, gets the sense that he is not crazy and that he is
telling the truth, and approves the marriage. Long-cig grandma finishes
telling this to dad with a chuckle to the craziness of life, and
perhaps realizing that "telling" was not on the program for the day,
she asks dad if he has a problem with that. Dad responds "Ma'am, you
got the right pastor today." He hands back the envelope with the
tip, saying that he can't take it.
This town is such a bitch and a whore most of the time. But this reminds me of the line from the old Buddy & Julie Miller song, "Letters to Emily" –
This town is such a bitch and a whore most of the time. But this reminds me of the line from the old Buddy & Julie Miller song, "Letters to Emily" –
Well,
I've gone wrong, but still I know sometimes God serves the best
wine up right from a paper cup.
May that man's love toward that woman be rewarded at the table where Abraham sits.
May that man's love toward that woman be rewarded at the table where Abraham sits.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
If *I* Said It, It Would be P-Incorrect...
Overheard: A Mexican guy looking at a group of Mexicans dressed in green on St. Patrick's Day:
"Oh, look... a can of green beans!"
"Oh, look... a can of green beans!"
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Somewhere Over the Rainbow Redux, The Sunday of the Cross
There is something enduring and mystical about "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Perhaps it is "merely" the human innate sensibility of immortality that transcends the troubled existences we endure. Perhaps after The Flood God has infused in our DNA the Promise of the Rainbow.
A couple years ago I posted this video of Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwoʻole
And the "Piano Guys" do a beautiful tribute to Iz and nice rendition of the tune.
On the Sunday of the Cross the promise of the Rainbow of God is fulfilled. He is not our Destroyer, He is not our death.
The Light hung on the Cross in darkness and fulfilled the promise of the Rainbow.
The Life of the world died and killed death. The Life was bound to all that is earthly to offer a hope beyond the curse of returning to the dust of the ground.
God is the hope of the "somewhere" over the Rainbow.
Perhaps He is the Unbearable Light that we can only bear shattered and refracted by creation, broken into smaller comprehendable parts. The Rainbow is The Light, anchored to the dust of the ground by the Cross, stretching to heaven at Its peak then returning to the earth in Hope.
The Rainbow is all we can see through earth-bound eyes because our hearts cannot bear the Uncreated Light. But the Rainbow touches our hearts because we hope for something beyond what we can see.
A couple years ago I posted this video of Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwoʻole
And the "Piano Guys" do a beautiful tribute to Iz and nice rendition of the tune.
On the Sunday of the Cross the promise of the Rainbow of God is fulfilled. He is not our Destroyer, He is not our death.
The Light hung on the Cross in darkness and fulfilled the promise of the Rainbow.
The Life of the world died and killed death. The Life was bound to all that is earthly to offer a hope beyond the curse of returning to the dust of the ground.
God is the hope of the "somewhere" over the Rainbow.
Perhaps He is the Unbearable Light that we can only bear shattered and refracted by creation, broken into smaller comprehendable parts. The Rainbow is The Light, anchored to the dust of the ground by the Cross, stretching to heaven at Its peak then returning to the earth in Hope.
The Rainbow is all we can see through earth-bound eyes because our hearts cannot bear the Uncreated Light. But the Rainbow touches our hearts because we hope for something beyond what we can see.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
What Two Hot Dogs and Faith Can Do...
I can't remember if it was two or three years ago, but I do remember I had a LOT of time off because construction died, so I built a church for our Mission. This picture was our first Pascha in our completed building. It seemed the hand of God was blessing us. Of course He would bless us. We were stepping out on faith. We gave sacrificially and then some. We endured all manners of setbacks and speedbumps and didn't give up. In the end we had built an Orthodox temple and had a solid core of faithful families. The whole story is HERE
I used to read the last line of that post now with a bit of ironic bitterness. About two years after we built the Church the owner sold the property out from under us. It would be easy to blame the owner (and we did for a while), but looking back, the reality is it was a harmonic convergence of bad decisions and gross negligence and just plain human failures by our Bishop, Dean of Missions, Priest, Parish Council and members at large (of which I was an integral part). QT (a gas station/convenience market chain) had bought the property and we were forced to vacate.
This was the fate of thousands of dollars and hundreds of man hours of volunteer labor, all given "to the glory of God".
The fate of St. John's building is a metaphor for life, of course. "Why does God not seem to honor the sacrifices that people make for Him?" WE think we're building a legacy to the glory of God then that same "God" permits it to be bulldozed and buried so the future generations we were hoping to bless cannot even recognize it nor remember it.
And of course the answer to that question is, "Who knows?" Our call is to be faithful, not prognosticators or soothsayers interpreting and discerning the will of God.
So today (Sunday) I finished my weekend construction job about one o'clock. I went to the new commercial office space our Mission just rented and decided I'd get a jump start on the remodeling.
I "kept the fast" even though I didn't go to Church because I had to finish the job this weekend. By noon I was shaky. (I'm standing on the blog streetcorner, yes...) There was no way I was going to do demolition for the rest of the day on a "BLT without the B". I stopped and ate two hot dogs at Circle K and went to the new office space St. John's rented. There's a few walls that have to be removed to open it up for a sanctuary. These were the first two that had to go.
It is office space, nothing fancy. There will be no dome, no arches, no park-like grounds for picnics and barbeques, just an asphalt parking lot in a non-descript office building on a main street. But St. John's Mission will be there, just like we were in someone's living room, the funeral home chapel, the strip center behind the bar, the beautiful temple and the rented Coptic Church Chapel we've been in for the last year.
The Mission has survived seven years of clerical delusion, neglect, abuse, and lay and clerical dysfunctional leadership. But it still exists in spite of all of the issues and problems. In the end there was no schism, everyone who left has returned and is looking forward. That in itself is a miracle.
Moving to a commercial office space from a "real church building" may be a step backward by all measures of "progress", but a step forward by all measures of "faithfulness in the small things" by a community of people that love each other enough to wander in the wilderness together and endure the humanity of the Church and the severity of the hand of God that is preparing us for something we do not understand and cannot comprehend.
And yes, it has occurred to me that even the last line of this post will probably come back and bite me too. Oh well. What else is new.
This was the fate of thousands of dollars and hundreds of man hours of volunteer labor, all given "to the glory of God".
And of course the answer to that question is, "Who knows?" Our call is to be faithful, not prognosticators or soothsayers interpreting and discerning the will of God.
So today (Sunday) I finished my weekend construction job about one o'clock. I went to the new commercial office space our Mission just rented and decided I'd get a jump start on the remodeling.
I "kept the fast" even though I didn't go to Church because I had to finish the job this weekend. By noon I was shaky. (I'm standing on the blog streetcorner, yes...) There was no way I was going to do demolition for the rest of the day on a "BLT without the B". I stopped and ate two hot dogs at Circle K and went to the new office space St. John's rented. There's a few walls that have to be removed to open it up for a sanctuary. These were the first two that had to go.
The Mission has survived seven years of clerical delusion, neglect, abuse, and lay and clerical dysfunctional leadership. But it still exists in spite of all of the issues and problems. In the end there was no schism, everyone who left has returned and is looking forward. That in itself is a miracle.
Moving to a commercial office space from a "real church building" may be a step backward by all measures of "progress", but a step forward by all measures of "faithfulness in the small things" by a community of people that love each other enough to wander in the wilderness together and endure the humanity of the Church and the severity of the hand of God that is preparing us for something we do not understand and cannot comprehend.
And yes, it has occurred to me that even the last line of this post will probably come back and bite me too. Oh well. What else is new.
Monday, March 05, 2012
Lent and Life
This coming Lazarus Saturday I will celebrate my 14th year being "Orthodox".
Fifteen years ago I prepared to enter the Orthodox Church by fasting "strictly". No meat, dairy, fish, wine or oil for over 40 days. I was on a "Mission from God".
A group of us sat in a living room with an Orthodox priest who was asking us about what we had studied and what we were doing as former Episcopalians that was preparing us to become Orthodox. Of course among our group we all had discussed our fasting and prayer rules with each other. Someone said to the priest, "Some of us are abstaining from meat, dairy, fish, wine and oil." The priest commented, "Wow... that is strict!"
I still remember ever so slightly smiling when he said that (even though I had no clue WHY he said that back then). Even then I had a clue that I smiled because of pride and that "someone who would know" affirmed my strictness and spiritual effort. My first Lent was a failure right out of the gate.
Over the past fourteen years I've kept Lent pretty strictly, somewhat strictly, and on and off pretty poorly. I remember one year I broke out with huge red, itchy blotches all over my body all during Lent that I think might have been a seafood allergy, but I kept the fast anyway. Eating jumbo shrimp and crab for Jesus for 50+ itchy days is a tough spiritual discipline. But over the years there have been the secret Burger King and Taco Bell lunches when I worked alone and the blatant "tofu-be-damned" meat-fests even on a Friday.
Of course one of the primary lessons of Lent is that you fail, if not in food then in relationships, attitude, and spirit which are actually the REAL issues, not food. Intellectually I knew that Lent is supposed to be humbling and if you finished with a sense of accomplishment you did it wrong. But there is always the temptation to pride for "doing it right"... at least the food part of it.
The longer I'm Orthodox it seems the "pretty poorly" number of meals and days have grown. The longer I was Orthodox the more elegant my rationalizations became (for instance, I know at the monasteries monks who work manual labor aren't required to keep the fasts strictly... I did manual labor, therefore....). But I didn't have to read "The Ladder of Divine Ascent" to recognize they were just rationalizations for the weakness of my flesh. Over the years I've also recognized I feel less guilt for not keeping the fasts strictly.
I think "lack of guilt" about food may be a sign I am finally becoming a real "Orthodox Christian", the kind of normal Orthodox Christian Fr. Michael was comparing me to fourteen years ago who freely and guiltlessly "break the fasts". I've known that fasting is not ultimately about rules about food but about being a Christian. But I've often found I was more concerned about what other people might think about me eating a Big Mac than being an ass during Lent. The past couple years I've swung the other way (of course probably off balance again). I've slowly become more concerned about being an "orthodox CHRISTIAN" than an "ORTHODOX Christian". Some day I may get both in the same font.
So with all of this personal spiritual restructuring going on, this year's Lent is a total ummmm...., shall I say, fastulation dysfunction.
It's not just about struggling with fasting particularly. I've realized it is about coming to terms with fourteen years of "goofodoxy" I've personally participated in, endured, wrestled with and been beaten down by. For the last few months I've been taking a break from a lot of "hyper-involvement" in things "Church", my ego and pride about things spiritual, from talking about spiritual stuff and doing spiritual things in public venues, and fasting is one of them.
So this Lent my shiny "new toy" of fasting which I've played with less and less has finally been put on the top shelf of the closet in a plain cardboard box. At 14 years old I'm finally an adolescent putting away my childhood toys and trying to figure out how to be a grown up. It is hard to give up childhood fantasies and illusions and pretend games. Even if the "toys" were Daddy's real tools, I wasn't using them like Daddy did. He fixed cars with them while I banged on the board on the driveway floor with them.
But I haven't thrown all my toys away. Spiritual disciplines still hold a nostalgic pull and call to me to take them out of the box and play with them again. I know that some day I will, but as an adult with a different understanding of their meaning and value. It doesn't mean I didn't have fun with them as a child, nor that their meaning and presence in my life were pointless or meaningless. It just means I was a child once. As I grow up I will return to the same toys some day with a different perspective, a different attitude.
And then, like all toys we kept from our childhood and rediscover as adults, I know some day I'll find a new joy, a new appreciation for their meaning and will have a great love and awe for their former place and handle them with more care. I don't know when that will be right now.
So yes, this Lent, as the joke goes, I'm fasting from Lent. Unless I don't. I still might keep it, I don't know, probably more likely in front of certain other Orthodox people than when alone. I haven't decided if that is hypocrisy or discernment. Either way, I'm not making myself or God any promises about food for now. I'll try to keep the promise I made years ago to be like Christ, and I'll fail at that too for sure. I can only pray that I will know when I need to repent.
It's tough growing up.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
First Kiss
I'm sure they did. As many years as I lived with them, I'm sure he said it. But as hard as I try, I cannot remember it.
It seems like after you are 40 and have a few years of relationships under your belt you begin to unravel some of the nuances of your parent's marriage that were lived out before your eyes but uninterpretable for lack of experience.
I realized long ago that my parents were a lot like what I remember my Dad's parents were like. I lived with them for a couple months at a time as a child and visited often. G'an would order Gan'pa around, bitch about everything he did and call him out when he embellished a story. Gan'pa would sing song, "Oh, Minnie..." and just go on doing what he was doing or would just finish his story, while Ga'n rolled her eyes or footnoted his story with "facts" as he told it. I figured out years ago that my Dad married his Mother. I didn't know my Popo (Chinese grandmother) and Grandaddy well, but I knew my Popo well enough to know what it would take to live with her and I imagine my Mom married her Dad in some ways too.
I look back now on some mysterious incidents and realize my parents had their marital crises. My Mom recently told me there were a few times she had her bags packed but unpacked them before Dad got home from work. Dad isn't quite as open, but I imagine he thought of driving to work and just keep going through the light and on to where ever the road ended. But then what married man hasn't sooner or later? But they've been married 60 years now.
Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple months ago at age 84. I suspected at her age she would just say, "That is that" and let nature take its course. She opted for a radical mastectomy and a year of chemo. I think I know why.
As my parents have aged my Mom has said "I hope your Father dies before I do because he won't know what to do if I go first... If I die first you HAVE to be sure he gets into assisted living." She is right. My Dad knows she is right too, though when she says that he'll say in the same sing song Gan'pa used to, "Oh, Momma..."
Mom had her surgery last week. When they wheeled her from recovery to her room, Dad tailgated the gurney all the way to the door. When the nurse told us we had to leave the room while they moved her into her bed, Dad stood a foot from the door pacing in a small square dance waiting for it to open. He was the first in when they opened it. He hovered over her bed and even though she was still groggy he asked, "do you want anything... can I get you some water... do you want me to order some dinner... how do you feel... "
We stayed for a while until he was sure she was comfortable and the nurses were going to be attentive enough.
I'm sure they must have done it sometime, he must have said it before, but for the life of me I can't remember it.
As we said goodbye for the night, my Dad leaned over the rail of the hospital bed and kissed my Mom. "I love you," he said as he stroked her head. She smiled. "Go home, JG, I'll be fine."
A day later my Mom had to be able to walk around the nurse's station in order to be released.
My Dad walked beside her, at a certain distance but close enough to catch her should she stumble or fall.
Side by side they shuffled down the corridor, he with 3 heart surgeries, she mutilated by cancer, each knowing what they are walking inexorably toward, but walking toward that place together. It was a closeness and distance that had been hammered out over 60 years.
I know that was not their first kiss, nor their first walk together.
I suspect, in the mystery of human love, they may have been the most true, the most real.
It seems like after you are 40 and have a few years of relationships under your belt you begin to unravel some of the nuances of your parent's marriage that were lived out before your eyes but uninterpretable for lack of experience.
I realized long ago that my parents were a lot like what I remember my Dad's parents were like. I lived with them for a couple months at a time as a child and visited often. G'an would order Gan'pa around, bitch about everything he did and call him out when he embellished a story. Gan'pa would sing song, "Oh, Minnie..." and just go on doing what he was doing or would just finish his story, while Ga'n rolled her eyes or footnoted his story with "facts" as he told it. I figured out years ago that my Dad married his Mother. I didn't know my Popo (Chinese grandmother) and Grandaddy well, but I knew my Popo well enough to know what it would take to live with her and I imagine my Mom married her Dad in some ways too.
I look back now on some mysterious incidents and realize my parents had their marital crises. My Mom recently told me there were a few times she had her bags packed but unpacked them before Dad got home from work. Dad isn't quite as open, but I imagine he thought of driving to work and just keep going through the light and on to where ever the road ended. But then what married man hasn't sooner or later? But they've been married 60 years now.
Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple months ago at age 84. I suspected at her age she would just say, "That is that" and let nature take its course. She opted for a radical mastectomy and a year of chemo. I think I know why.
As my parents have aged my Mom has said "I hope your Father dies before I do because he won't know what to do if I go first... If I die first you HAVE to be sure he gets into assisted living." She is right. My Dad knows she is right too, though when she says that he'll say in the same sing song Gan'pa used to, "Oh, Momma..."
Mom had her surgery last week. When they wheeled her from recovery to her room, Dad tailgated the gurney all the way to the door. When the nurse told us we had to leave the room while they moved her into her bed, Dad stood a foot from the door pacing in a small square dance waiting for it to open. He was the first in when they opened it. He hovered over her bed and even though she was still groggy he asked, "do you want anything... can I get you some water... do you want me to order some dinner... how do you feel... "
We stayed for a while until he was sure she was comfortable and the nurses were going to be attentive enough.
I'm sure they must have done it sometime, he must have said it before, but for the life of me I can't remember it.
As we said goodbye for the night, my Dad leaned over the rail of the hospital bed and kissed my Mom. "I love you," he said as he stroked her head. She smiled. "Go home, JG, I'll be fine."
A day later my Mom had to be able to walk around the nurse's station in order to be released.
My Dad walked beside her, at a certain distance but close enough to catch her should she stumble or fall.
Side by side they shuffled down the corridor, he with 3 heart surgeries, she mutilated by cancer, each knowing what they are walking inexorably toward, but walking toward that place together. It was a closeness and distance that had been hammered out over 60 years.
I know that was not their first kiss, nor their first walk together.
I suspect, in the mystery of human love, they may have been the most true, the most real.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Conspicuous Piety
Anonymous asked, "A quick question. "Don't be conspicuously pious" strikes home. So should I cross myself before having lunch with folks from the office?"
Anon,
Some of my friends are for it, some are against it and I'm with my friends. :)
Personally, I generally don't. I don't want to be identified as a Christian by my co-workers by my "pious acts" but rather by my Christian acts that they would not view as a public "show" of my religion.
Lately Tim Tebow has taken the issue of public displays of personal piety to a new level. (Not that no athlete has ever crossed themselves, prayed or knelt in the end zone before). But for some reason he has spawned an "in your face" public piety that I think speaks of the polarization of evangelical American Christianity and the culture more than perhaps the piety and beliefs of those who practice it.
I will lay aside the fact that "this is a free country and we can pray, bow, chant or stand on our heads for Christ, Allah, Zeus, the Cosmic Chicken King, or our Fairy God-mother." That is not the issue. What we are free to do does not make doing it edifying nor compelling to those who watch.
The issue for me is, who is it for and what does it accomplish?
Of course there are those who think crossing, praying in public and Tebowing are "standing up for Christ". Perhaps. It does take a degree of either courage or social unawareness to do something in public that would be viewed as stupid or offensive by some. However, doing something socially awkward and offensive, even if it is well intended or even religiously motivated doesn't make it good, it just means the "doer" is well, offensive and awkward. That's why multi-level marketing works. And just because someone is insulted for a display of anything doesn't make one a martyr for the cause. Street evangelists with loudspeakers who harass passers-by are rightfully persecuted for being annoying asses whether they are selling cell phone plans or salvation. But is this all on the same level as crossing one's self before a meal in front of friends?
The questions for me are: "Is it really standing up for Christ?" and "Who is it for?" Personally, I tend to think of religious displays done publicly as standing on the street corner making a show that might impress some other Christians. I think it drives a wedge between me and a cynical unbeliever that I would never reach with pious behavior but possibly can reach with love. I would rather have someone not be surprised if they saw me cross myself than to be surprised that I DO cross myself, if you get my drift. The "aroma of Christ" and the "adornment of holiness" is, according to St. Paul, our lives, not our words or "washing of hands" in public. The true sign of the Cross is the crucified life, the outward sign (the "icon", if you will) of the Cross must have a correspondence to something real (incarnate, if you will) to those who witness it. Without the correspondence and integrity of the incarnate and the sign/icon, the outward is merely a potential for an awkward moment or possibly an offense, and perhaps worse, an hypocrisy waiting to be called out. That is why I don't buy making the sign of the cross as a particularly good thing to do even though it is congruent with the fine points of Orthodox theology. We should not expect to be judged favorably or accurately by those who do not share our theological paradigm, nor should we begin "teaching them" about our faith with displays of private piety and the esoterica of our religion. Our initial point of contact should be the common ground of both our experiences and expectations of "true religion" (and ultimately what the sign of the Cross really MEANS and really points both of us to): self sacrificial love for one's neighbor. Even the irreligious can understand that and can be impressed by it. Becoming all things to all men, according to St. Paul, sometimes means giving up the trappings of our personal piety in order to not be judged wrongly by the unbeliever.
IF someone I know ever converts and asks why I didn't cross myself and pray in front of them, I'd just say I didn't want to make them uncomfortable or offend them out of respect for their beliefs at the time.
All that said, I'm inconsistent and it depends on who I am with. I generally pray or cross myself if I am with other Christians (even some evangelicals). I generally don't in a mixed group with people I don't know and who don't know me well enough to know I am either a Christian or at least a "helluva nice guy". If I'm eating alone or when I DO make a sign of the Cross in a public setting, I keep it small and quick because its for me, not everyone else.
So for me, I'd rather be seen in public taking up my cross and dying to myself than crossing myself. Of course, it's not an "either/or" but I better be damned sure if I go for the "both/and" I better have both lest I put the Cross to open shame and hold it up to public ridicule by my actions (I think St. Paul in Hebrews has something about that...).
By the way, yes, I'd put an icon in my cubicle.
Anon,
Some of my friends are for it, some are against it and I'm with my friends. :)
Personally, I generally don't. I don't want to be identified as a Christian by my co-workers by my "pious acts" but rather by my Christian acts that they would not view as a public "show" of my religion.
Lately Tim Tebow has taken the issue of public displays of personal piety to a new level. (Not that no athlete has ever crossed themselves, prayed or knelt in the end zone before). But for some reason he has spawned an "in your face" public piety that I think speaks of the polarization of evangelical American Christianity and the culture more than perhaps the piety and beliefs of those who practice it.
I will lay aside the fact that "this is a free country and we can pray, bow, chant or stand on our heads for Christ, Allah, Zeus, the Cosmic Chicken King, or our Fairy God-mother." That is not the issue. What we are free to do does not make doing it edifying nor compelling to those who watch.
The issue for me is, who is it for and what does it accomplish?
Of course there are those who think crossing, praying in public and Tebowing are "standing up for Christ". Perhaps. It does take a degree of either courage or social unawareness to do something in public that would be viewed as stupid or offensive by some. However, doing something socially awkward and offensive, even if it is well intended or even religiously motivated doesn't make it good, it just means the "doer" is well, offensive and awkward. That's why multi-level marketing works. And just because someone is insulted for a display of anything doesn't make one a martyr for the cause. Street evangelists with loudspeakers who harass passers-by are rightfully persecuted for being annoying asses whether they are selling cell phone plans or salvation. But is this all on the same level as crossing one's self before a meal in front of friends?
The questions for me are: "Is it really standing up for Christ?" and "Who is it for?" Personally, I tend to think of religious displays done publicly as standing on the street corner making a show that might impress some other Christians. I think it drives a wedge between me and a cynical unbeliever that I would never reach with pious behavior but possibly can reach with love. I would rather have someone not be surprised if they saw me cross myself than to be surprised that I DO cross myself, if you get my drift. The "aroma of Christ" and the "adornment of holiness" is, according to St. Paul, our lives, not our words or "washing of hands" in public. The true sign of the Cross is the crucified life, the outward sign (the "icon", if you will) of the Cross must have a correspondence to something real (incarnate, if you will) to those who witness it. Without the correspondence and integrity of the incarnate and the sign/icon, the outward is merely a potential for an awkward moment or possibly an offense, and perhaps worse, an hypocrisy waiting to be called out. That is why I don't buy making the sign of the cross as a particularly good thing to do even though it is congruent with the fine points of Orthodox theology. We should not expect to be judged favorably or accurately by those who do not share our theological paradigm, nor should we begin "teaching them" about our faith with displays of private piety and the esoterica of our religion. Our initial point of contact should be the common ground of both our experiences and expectations of "true religion" (and ultimately what the sign of the Cross really MEANS and really points both of us to): self sacrificial love for one's neighbor. Even the irreligious can understand that and can be impressed by it. Becoming all things to all men, according to St. Paul, sometimes means giving up the trappings of our personal piety in order to not be judged wrongly by the unbeliever.
IF someone I know ever converts and asks why I didn't cross myself and pray in front of them, I'd just say I didn't want to make them uncomfortable or offend them out of respect for their beliefs at the time.
All that said, I'm inconsistent and it depends on who I am with. I generally pray or cross myself if I am with other Christians (even some evangelicals). I generally don't in a mixed group with people I don't know and who don't know me well enough to know I am either a Christian or at least a "helluva nice guy". If I'm eating alone or when I DO make a sign of the Cross in a public setting, I keep it small and quick because its for me, not everyone else.
So for me, I'd rather be seen in public taking up my cross and dying to myself than crossing myself. Of course, it's not an "either/or" but I better be damned sure if I go for the "both/and" I better have both lest I put the Cross to open shame and hold it up to public ridicule by my actions (I think St. Paul in Hebrews has something about that...).
By the way, yes, I'd put an icon in my cubicle.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Following Too Closely
Everyone is going somewhere.
Most of the time the place people THINK they are going is neither where they are headed nor where they end up. Even in a "spiritual journey".
Therefore, don't follow anyone too closely. Keep enough distance to see the road ahead.
Tailgating in cars and spirituality usually ends up in a wreck.
Most of the time the place people THINK they are going is neither where they are headed nor where they end up. Even in a "spiritual journey".
Therefore, don't follow anyone too closely. Keep enough distance to see the road ahead.
Tailgating in cars and spirituality usually ends up in a wreck.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
Transitions
I've been on my new job for about 5 months now. Even though I've not been in an office environment for 35 years and out of "human services" as a career for over 30 years, not ever working in a school context nor knowing Microsoft Office like the back of my scarred and wrinkled hand, my main concern was not human services competence to deal with problem people (having run a social work construction business and dealt with Orthodox Missions), computer skills (I have enough), or ability to learn the job (I catch on quick)... it was "Can I work for someone else?"
"Working for someone else", of course, is a red herring. Even if you are self-employed, you work for someone else. EVERY client is "someone else". I realized a long time ago that *I* am not my "own boss"... every client is my boss. Some days I had three or four bosses. Being self employed, I didn't have to deal with one personality and one set of expectations a day, but several. One learns to be incredibly flexible and perceptive when one has to discern and please a lot of different personalities daily. The upside was if I didn't discern well, the job was finite... I could finish it, even if it took all day to please the client and I lost my ass for a day's wages bending over backwards for someone, at the end of the project I could walk away and go on (as we say in construction) to "New Money" and I didn't ever have to go back unless I chose to. The problem in an office environment is you can't "move on to new money" tomorrow morning. These people are the people you will deal with forever unless you want to find a new job. So after a few months at my probationary period evaluation the question I asked myself was, "Would I rather deal with a daily/hourly change of bosses and co-workers or can I deal with these people on a long term basis?" Do I quit or do I stay?
In my final hiring interview I told the Executive Director that I didn't NEED the job and I was interviewing them as they were interviewing me. I said, if I had gotten the impression that the people I'd met were small, petty and prone to drama I'd turn the job down and stay in construction, but I liked how they interacted and I liked everyone I'd met so I would take the job if offered. After five months, is the place perfect with perfect people? No, of course not.
The challenge for me was (and is) after 30 years in construction, how do I "be a Christian" in an office environment where I interact with people for eight or more hours a day and every day forever as opposed to a few hours once in a while and with an expectation that the relationship will end at an agreed upon time. It's easy to fake being anything in short spurts and in limited exposure (much like being a Christian at Church...but that's another blog post issue). When people deal with you every day it is harder to hide the quirks, touchy spots and baggage. And on top of that I represent the "company" to clients, I don't just represent myself.
Well, the good news is, people are people. The things that "work" in construction work in an office work at Church work in marriage work in driving on the freeway in rush hour work in a monastery work at the grocery store work on the street corner with the homeless guy with a sign... etc. What "works" is simple, really. Just be a saint.
Be silent. (My opinion isn't a necessity.)
Speak with grace if speaking is a necessity.
Acknowledge people's goodness.
Apologize sincerely even if the wrong is only perceived.
Don't engage in nor take morbid interest in debates, disputes and gossip.
Go the second mile without being asked.
Give the cloak when asked for a shirt (do more than expected).
Be concerned about other's burdens.
Say please. And thank you. Often.
Ask for help.
Be gracious for unasked for help.
Bring donuts.
Don't boast. About anything.
Be someone who is known to have a sense of humor.
Don't be conspicuously pious.
Compliment other people behind their backs.
Say "Good morning" and "Goodbye".
There's probably more, but off the top of my head those are a few things I can see work everywhere, at all times, with all people.
Or, I suppose I could just say, love your neighbor and be humble.
But then that would be too easy.
"Working for someone else", of course, is a red herring. Even if you are self-employed, you work for someone else. EVERY client is "someone else". I realized a long time ago that *I* am not my "own boss"... every client is my boss. Some days I had three or four bosses. Being self employed, I didn't have to deal with one personality and one set of expectations a day, but several. One learns to be incredibly flexible and perceptive when one has to discern and please a lot of different personalities daily. The upside was if I didn't discern well, the job was finite... I could finish it, even if it took all day to please the client and I lost my ass for a day's wages bending over backwards for someone, at the end of the project I could walk away and go on (as we say in construction) to "New Money" and I didn't ever have to go back unless I chose to. The problem in an office environment is you can't "move on to new money" tomorrow morning. These people are the people you will deal with forever unless you want to find a new job. So after a few months at my probationary period evaluation the question I asked myself was, "Would I rather deal with a daily/hourly change of bosses and co-workers or can I deal with these people on a long term basis?" Do I quit or do I stay?
In my final hiring interview I told the Executive Director that I didn't NEED the job and I was interviewing them as they were interviewing me. I said, if I had gotten the impression that the people I'd met were small, petty and prone to drama I'd turn the job down and stay in construction, but I liked how they interacted and I liked everyone I'd met so I would take the job if offered. After five months, is the place perfect with perfect people? No, of course not.
The challenge for me was (and is) after 30 years in construction, how do I "be a Christian" in an office environment where I interact with people for eight or more hours a day and every day forever as opposed to a few hours once in a while and with an expectation that the relationship will end at an agreed upon time. It's easy to fake being anything in short spurts and in limited exposure (much like being a Christian at Church...but that's another blog post issue). When people deal with you every day it is harder to hide the quirks, touchy spots and baggage. And on top of that I represent the "company" to clients, I don't just represent myself.
Well, the good news is, people are people. The things that "work" in construction work in an office work at Church work in marriage work in driving on the freeway in rush hour work in a monastery work at the grocery store work on the street corner with the homeless guy with a sign... etc. What "works" is simple, really. Just be a saint.
Be silent. (My opinion isn't a necessity.)
Speak with grace if speaking is a necessity.
Acknowledge people's goodness.
Apologize sincerely even if the wrong is only perceived.
Don't engage in nor take morbid interest in debates, disputes and gossip.
Go the second mile without being asked.
Give the cloak when asked for a shirt (do more than expected).
Be concerned about other's burdens.
Say please. And thank you. Often.
Ask for help.
Be gracious for unasked for help.
Bring donuts.
Don't boast. About anything.
Be someone who is known to have a sense of humor.
Don't be conspicuously pious.
Compliment other people behind their backs.
Say "Good morning" and "Goodbye".
There's probably more, but off the top of my head those are a few things I can see work everywhere, at all times, with all people.
Or, I suppose I could just say, love your neighbor and be humble.
But then that would be too easy.
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Orthodoxy in the Workplace
The student was not treated well by our staff person.
The parent was outraged. The mother left a voicemail for me after hours. I could tell she was REALLY trying to be calm. "I will call you in the morning," she said. The father was the "contact parent" on the roster.
I talked to the Admin. person responsible for the offending party. They said they would deal with it.
I decided to make a pre-emptive apology. I called the Mom and then the Dad... I apologized every way I knew how for the "School's behavior". Damage control accomplished, relationship restored.
In cubicles sound carries over the 5 foot walls.
When I was done, the people around me gathered and said, "We've NEVER heard anyone grovel and apologize so eloquently and sincerely... that was AMAZING!"
I told them, "Obviously you have not offended as many priests, bishops and monks as I have."
Orthodoxy works in the real world.
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