Some wisdom on these times...

can be found here.

Real Men Don't Rehearse...

In the small hours...

of the morning when dreams are most vivid I had a dream as well.

I was with a young child and we were walking through my hometown of Wausau, Wisconsin. I was showing him various places and we finally made it to the last home we lived in which, far from its current run down shape, was bright, vibrant, and large. On the street by the house there were a group of teenagers playing basketball, some I knew and some I didn't, but I joined the game and took a few shots.

Then, in the moment, I said "You know what I want to do when I get to heaven? I want to shoot hoops."

Interesting, and a pleasant dream.

A smile for the day...

I'm not a person...

given to bumber sticker faith but I did have one of those small oval stickers on the back of my car with STE on it for St. Elias. The sticker is faded, though, and peeling so I've decided to replace it with another oval sticker that says "Wake up and smell the incense...Eastern Orthodoxy". I thought it was kind of neat.

At least it helps me find my rather generic (but extremely durable) Saturn in a parking lot.

Highway 61...

runs through some beautiful country on the road from LaCrosse to Boscobel, WI. It's coulee country, hills with deep valleys that the Ozark folks call "hollows" and roads that wind in whatever gap is wide enough for lanes. I imagine how it must be in fall when everything is lit up with nature's own leafy fireworks.

Little towns straddle the road with names like "Mt. Zion" and "Soldier's Grove". Other towns are just a sign pointing down a side road and into another valley. It took a real sense of the need to get home to avoiding a turn and finding out what "Gays Mills" or "Wauzakee" looked like. But the skies above looked like rain and I wanted to rest just a little bit before the work week took hold. So the car and I pushed ahead, down and back, with little time for rest. Things to do, places to go.

I did, however, make one stop along the way and jogged north for a few miles past Westby, WI, to see Living Waters Bible Camp. When you're young and in the Plymouth Brethren bible camp is summer vacation and spiritual retreat combined and I was part of the group that helped build Living Waters back in the day when it was part of a farm and we camped out in tents at night and built things during the day, occasionally taking a break to wander in the hills.

The camp had, of course, added things in the years since I've been there but the shape is the same and just seeing it brought back memories. We had spiritual moments there and sometimes we had girlfriends of the kind you can only have at bible camp. Living Waters was the place where we fought for the sugared cereal in those little boxes at our campsites, where I got a black eye once but kissed a girl too (happened same year but not related) and also where we met distant friends and told stories long into the night.

As I drove slowly around the grounds all of it came back to me and it was everything I could do to not stop, get out, and see if there was anyone there I remembered. I still know the family names from the old days and they still, even though I haven't been with the Plymouth Brethren for decades, probably remember mine.

But there were, as usual, places to go and miles ahead and so I turned back up the valley and drove past the old tobacco shed (in the old days people around LaCrosse grew tobacco in the hills) and up the winding road. My dad, rest his soul, would be proud to see the camp he helped build still alive, functioning, and blessing. As for me it was about continuity, linking my past to the present and finding healing, strength, and joy in it all. How long ago it was and yet how close as well. For a moment I was both the boy who stayed in those dorms and wandered the hills and the man with the collar just passing through and pondering as time stood still.

I'm on the road again...

today, this time to Boscobel, Wisconsin for a funeral. They say it might rain but for now the skies look clear and in less than an hour I should be away.

The person I'm doing the service for was not in my parish but is Orthodox and the service will be at the grave. The skies above will determine its length, sun means longer, rain means shorter, and I hope I can provide some comfort and do right by a group of folks who've slogged through a long period of illness.

One of the things I encounter out here in southwestern Wisconsin is the reality of scattered Orthodox. People come to Wisconsin for many reasons, not the least being the scenery, and if they're Orthodox there's a dilemma. With not too many more then a dozen parishes in the state the coverage can get thin. St. Elias draws people from nearly an hour away, the geographical size of the parish extends across two states and many counties. The tightly clustered rules for urban Orthodox communities don't apply here and so you have to find a church where you can and services as they come. If the weather gets bad all bets are off, especially in the hill country around LaCrosse.

This family in need came from small town Wisconsin and then moved to the larger venue of Eau Claire, a city of over 60 thousand but still without a local Parish or a resident Priest. I was closest to the small town they came from, they didn't know I commuted from St. Paul, Minnesota, and so I was called. I don't mind helping, but part of me is sad.

Why isn't there a parish in Eau Claire? Over a hundred thousand people live within its borders or an easy drive and still no church. Orthodox, who, for whatever reason, move to towns like Eau Claire often have no place to go. Why should we be surprised, then, when they drift away or scan through the Yellow Pages hoping to find someone, anyone, available when a crisis occurs.

The hardest part of this is that I feel so limited. As the range of St. Elias circle of influence increases my ability to care for all the good people scattered through the area decreases. Surely these people are at least entitled to have someone come and bury their dead.

Regardless in less then a half hour I'll be on the road again and since I've never been to Boscobel before it will be a chance to see some new country. We'll gather at 2 this afternoon and lay this man to rest, it's a good and right thing to do, but I wonder what will become of this family once I turn my car around and head back north.

What happens...

if someday, somehow, everything comes true? External audits, diocesan Bishops, decentralized and conciliar administration, transparency, all the things we claim we want. What happens?

Someone once said "Be careful what you ask for because you may get it."

If we are indeed in a time of change we should be preparing ourselves now for the time of responsibility that is to follow. The sad truth, of course, is that much of what we are experiencing now might not have happened if we all had taken real responsibility earlier but that's history now and hopefully we'll not repeat it. Still we have to face what will happen when the walls fall and the castle is laid bare.

Because its easy to cry "Revolution" and get caught up in the spirit of the moment but much more difficult to run the country you've now taken. Once the glow is faded and the banners stowed away bills still need to be paid, paper has to move from place to place, phones have to be answered, and questions addressed. For years we've said "That's the Priest's job." "That something for the Bishop." "Send it on to New Jersey." Then we expected problems to magically vanish, money to come us without strings, and truth to flow without effort.

Could this be part of why we're where we are now?

Yes, our hierarchs, our trustees, our structures, our systems, they all need to be, as best as sinful humans and things can be, transparent, effective, moral, holy, and right. But what about us? The truth is that "speaking truth to power" is much easier than speaking truth to ourselves. Holy Bishops come from holy churches full of holy people. A living Church cannot be made of dead stones. If we chafe with the idea of being treated like children then perhaps we also need to tend to our own maturity as well.

In this lies the difference between revolution and revival. In a revolution people demand that the powers that be change. In a revival the people change as well.

Some words...

The stories have been unfolding through channels, official and otherwise, regarding the happenings at our Archdiocesan Convention in California and if even half the stories are true these days will not be remembered as the best of times. Security guards taking documents from delegates. Clergy threatened and called names, physical confrontations. The list goes on and its unsavory to say the least. Someone looking in at us from the outside searching for hope would surely be discouraged. For the moment the world seems covered in shadows.

This is not what we were meant to be.

We need to be a church that is conciliar, accountable, vital, holy, alive, and faithful. In a word we need our Church to be Orthodox in the best sense of the word. We need a Church that represents our highest aspirations and not our lowest machinations. We need a Church where truth and trust are not rare and holiness is abundant. We need the Church to realize itself as the Kingdom of God, a trust and not a possession. In a world of grays we need the Church to shine with clear light.

We will get there.

Such times as these are what always happen when an old order dies and a new one is born. We're in the travail of birth as the past is loosening its grip and the future is unfolding. Hearts are being stirred and hearts will not be denied. Night will break into dawn, it is inevitable, it is the nature of things.

The fires of this time are unpleasant but through them purity will come, in ourselves, our institutions, and our character. This is the fire of love, a sign that God has not abandoned us, a sign that we remain, despite our mortality, his children. If we listen and heed we will do well.

I am tired and frustrated by it all. I would like to think this is a dream and that at some moment I will wake up and find myself safe in my own bed. Sadly this is not so. A time of struggle and hardship is upon us and the only way out is through.

Yet there is light.

The tides of history have washed over us and we have survived. Empires have risen and fallen and we remain. Some times we glow like fired steel and other times we are cold like wet stones yet we still exist. This moment in time is harsh and painful but it will pass. The One who brought us into being has promised His presence and when times and people and events run against us our hope in that presence endures.

And so will we.

A worthy read...

7.22.09 Pastoral Care and the Crisis of Power In the See of Antioch, at the current time, there is a confrontation, a crisis of opinion, and painful consequences may follow. Are the bishops, within an eparchy that is headed by a patriarch or a metropolitan as an ecclesial administrative unit, bishops over a territory and a faithful people, or are they auxiliary bishops (asaqifa musa’idun)? The traditional position, within the Orthodox ecclesiological framework, makes the bishops within a single eparchy brothers and the primate (mallak) of the eparchy first of all the first among equals and secondarily the head of a local council, governed by principles and canons and made up of the bishops of that eparchy. This assumes that each of them oversees a territory and a people. In principle, bishops are not titular or auxiliaries, dependent upon the metropolitan or the patriarch. But, historical events came about in past eras that divided some bishops from their territories and their flocks, as happened in the Byzantine Empire after the fall of some of its regions to the Ottomans. It was hoped at the time that exiled or refugee bishops would return to their regions. However, matters became more complicated and situations worsened and such bishops found themselves permanently exiled from their flocks. Or, the dioceses which they had overseen in principle were emptied of their Orthodox people. With the passing of time, this inaugurated the custom of consecrating titular bishops who, at first, longed for military or political turnarounds that would return an Orthodox presence to their former regions. When the years went by and the winds did not blow as the boats wished, hopes changed to almost a formal etiquette, and the custom became firmly entrenched of choosing titular bishops who quickly became helpers (musa’idun) or auxiliaries (mu’awinun) to some of the actual primates of the eparchies, dependent on the patriarch. This gave birth to an unintended custom, without any ecclesiological base. However, it became accepted and enshrined in practice insofar as the ancient traditional practice among us of each bishop being the bishop of a people and a territory into decline in practice. With it, the page closed on local synods within one eparchy and it sufficed to have synods on the level of patriarchates or the equivalent. Some circles, today, hold fast to the contingent practice over ecclesiological theology because it has become widespread and followed for many years. The temporary became permanent. Others hold to intellectual principles of ecclesiological theology and hope to rectify the current historical deviation in this situation and to return dioceses to their traditional function, especially since there exists a need, here and there, for more bishops of territory and people so that we do not go too far in making the episcopate in general only an administrative, ritual function. The bishop is the pastor par excellence and must remain so in practice. Between those who seek this or that line of thought, today, there is confrontation and debate. It does not appear that it will result in a speedy understanding in the foreseeable future and it is to be feared that it will grow into an impasse and from there into something with an unpraiseworthy outcome. How to get out of this dilemma? The answer is not easy. However, if we were to put forward the reasons for this crisis, we do not find it to be simply ecclesiological or canonical in nature, but also historical, temperamental, and psychological. We have become accustomed to such with the passing of generations! It is not easy for those who have become accustomed to sole power in their eparchies and to dealing with titular bishops almost like deacons to have partners in power within the lifetime in which they work. Let us say it frankly: the problem is the problem of a power struggle! Few are prepared to let go of their prerogatives! The issue, at the base, is not ,as it is put forward, a theological issue and it is not a pastoral issue. What determines the traditional or the ecclesiological, theological or the canonical argument, at the basic level, is the holding on of each of the concerned parties to the power which they think rightly belongs to themselves and not to others. Each one brings forward this or that evidence, in reality, because it is convenient for him. If we were to hold fast to ecclesiological theology and the traditional canons, in the matter before us, then we would have to openly express only a small number of the positions we implicitly adopt or to which we consent and which are not in agreement with [Orthodox] principles. The question of the diaspora, especially North America, is today in our opinion the foundation of the current problem and what brought to light the intellectual divide which had long remained hidden. The status of any of the Orthodox churches, the See of Antioch included, is not sound there, either from an ecclesiological or a canonical standpoint. By what right do we hold on to the dependence of the Antiochian Archdiocese in North America on us? That eparchy is no longer at the stage of just being sent out. We helped it during its beginnings, but now it is mature, and more mature than us here in its theology and its learning and its organization. By what right, then, is it assumed that it should be under our care? Is it because some of its people have left us? So what? Generations and generations have grown up there for years and the people in those lands have become American. Is it because there is a sentimental heritage which ties us to them and them to us, or because there is something like nationalist feelings which hold us to them and them to us so that they must be subject to our local ecclesial structure? This has no relation in any case to ecclesiological thought nor to the ancient ecclesiological practice which has come down to us from the Apostles and saints. Thus the practical theology which we use in this matter is faulty and unacceptable if we were to be fair and correct. And what is to be said about the canonical disorders that we’re up to our ears in over there? The situation of all the Orthodox eparchies dependent on mother churches in North America is uncanonical. There is one Orthodox church in those lands whose situation is sound and canonical: the American Orthodox Church (OCA). This alone is independent and autocephalous and this is de-facto recognized by the other Orthodox eparchies. Its recognition, formal or implicit, by the eparchies depending on mother churches is clear and frank confirmation that the status of these eparchies is uncanonical and unsound. If these eparchies and mother churches on which they depend were to be logical with themselves and consistent with Orthodox ecclesiological and canonical thought, in the true sense of the word, then they would belong to the OCA or would at least enter into an understanding with it and the thorny crisis of the Orthodox presence there, theologically and canonically, would end. The simplest position and the most sound is for us to leave the Orthodox in North America to themselves and to encourage them to arrange their affairs themselves! We and the other mother churches are the ones who are complicating their affairs! Naturally, there are those who claim that the problem of the diaspora is, to a great extent, a problem of nationalist sentiment. The sentiments exist, but not to the degree that is thought. The Church in the past has dealt with nationalism-- in Constantinople, in Antioch, and elsewhere-- and she is able to deal with it in every time and place whenever proper ecclesial sentiment abounds. But if nationalistic notions eclipse concern of the Church, then this is a dangerous event and a serious deviation because we are no longer a church possessing one faith, but rather a group of tribes. The truth is that the mother churches hold on to their eparchies in North America because they do not want to be stripped of their prerogatives and their benefits and their power there. The issue of money plays an important role in this matter and likewise does political and ecclesial influence. None of this has any connection to the Church in the exact meaning of the word, not to her theology, nor to her canons, nor to pastoral care for her people nor to her spirituality. I will return to the subject of the bishops and I will say that the hidden cause behind the debate going on between those who hold to the concept of titular, helper bishops and the concept of local bishops over a people and a territory is, in reality, related to the passions. There is struggle for power, in the worldly sense, going on, and the arguments put forth call for each to claim his own power and leadership. But we have no power to receive, rather service to give for the Church of Christ and the People of God. For this reason, if we were to be just, then we must, first and last, to put pastoral care for the People of God before ourselves and before any other standard. The struggle for power going on today is, unfortunately, on account of this pastoral care! The single legitimate and acceptable question in this context is: what is most appropriate for the care of the Orthodox faithful here and there? For this reason it is to be hoped that the interaction of the metropolitan with the bishops within a single eparchy, wherever they may be and especially right now in North America, will be first of all with goodness, love, humility of heart, and magnanimity. The issue of the episcopate, which has long been outside the genuine ecclesiology, will not be solved by emptying it of its pastoral content and enshrining its titularity, and not by, in response, idolatrously harping on the application of cannons but rather by the metropolitan embracing the bishops as brothers, and the bishops the metropolitan. Calmly and deliberately we will become able to solve our issues in cooperation and simplicity and flexibility, relying on [Orthodox] principles, and we will raise up the People of God in truth so that God will be glorified in us. The way of dividing, subjugating with decisions from on high, and debasing is of no avail. It will only alienate and create factions and lead to schism! I say this and it is to be feared that we are in a delicate and dangerous situation. Orthodox America will not be treated in the ruinous way we are accustomed to in our lands here! If we do not leave our selfishness and our pride and build each other up with kindness and generosity and put the good of the Church and its unity and theological principles ahead of any personal consideration, whatever it may be, then worse is to come! Archimandrite Touma (Bitar) Abbot of the Monastery of St. Silouan the Athonite Douma Sunday July 12, 2009

No news yet...

from the Archdiocesan Convention. Just a few pictures on antiochian.org but this is only day two.

My hope is that the troubles we've been experiencing and the issues they've raised don't papered over in a sea of hafli and happy pictures. Yes, it can be done in a civil and decent way but it still needs to be done. Let's face what we have to face, sticking with the facts and doing everything with a very large dose of humility and let some fresh air, and healing, in.

Human fetuses have memories...

and the story about it is here.

A little Elmore James...

The day after...

the St. Elias Festival and all is quiet. The sun is out. the temperatures are cool. The day looks promising. It's a good day for a recliner with the windows open or a rocker on a porch. I find myself in that wonderful and peculiar position of having absolutely no ambition, a quite enjoyable state of afairs.

Yes, tomorrow I'll be at work bright and shiny but as for today I'm striving for as little physical movement as possible.

Gray day...

today, cool and cloudy, good for work but not for festivals. Tomorrow promises to be partly cloudy and in the middle 70's farenheit so I hope the people feel like coming out.

Lots of moving and grunt work today, a small group of people taking on a big task. People have different feelings about festivals but I am always amazed at how much work can be done by a relatively small group of people. St. Elias can be amazing sometimes!

Speaking of work, I'd better get at it. No need to burn daylight when there are things to do.

Am I missing something...

or does the idea of spending more money to keep from going bankrupt seem odd? I'm convinced that only a person who has spent the greater part of their lives in the government coccoon could think that made sense.

By the way...

I'm on Twitter. Figured it was something interesting to do. Look for TravelingPriest.

So now what did I get myself into?

Sometimes you can feel...

the overload coming, the piling on of events, people's needs, and the tasks of life, most small in and of themselves but cumulatively back breaking. The weight is manifested as mood, fatigue, and the sense of being overwhelmed. Sometimes your body is stooped by it all but more often your soul is hunched under the duress.

The eyes give it all away, a tired and far away look few are skilled enough to perpetually hide. Walk down the street and look for people in unguarded moments and you will know. Look at yourself in the mirror and you will know as well. There are burdens out there, burdens in there, the weight of the world accumulated in a lifetime of the chase. Every wrinkle, every gray hair, every bit of weariness, they all mark the path most taken in a world that has forgotten heaven.

The unwise, in coming to terms with all of this, see the answer on the horizon, some mystic future when they will have whatever it is they perceive will remove this load or at least the resources to pay someone to handle it for them. In the present they anesthetize to endure, one more drink, one more lover, one more step up at the office.

The wise will understand that there is a call in all of this, a call not to anesthetize themselves in the hope of some future relief but rather to shed the burden itself because so much of it is unnecessary, something we have convinced ourselves into carrying, something we even believe to mark personal success. In the pain of life's burdens is a call to first things, first principles, the essence of what it means to be human.

I'm hearing the call.

A dose of Mr. John Lee Hooker...

Some more wisdom...

this time from Rod Dreher.

Some wisdom...

from Cal Thomas.

Apparently swearing...

helps lessen physical pain. Well I'll be $%#^&*(@!

Of course aspirin also works and doesn't make you look like an idiot. By the way am I the only person out there wondering where they found the money for this study?

100,000...

Somewhere along the river road this weekend the odometer should roll over 100,000 miles.

Enough said.

I'm tired...

of all the craziness that's been part of our Archdiocese for these past months. I'm sad, too, because things have been exposed that are deeply embarassing and any person who had some idealized vision about us is probably stunned right now, or running to the nearest Orthodox parish NOT in the Antiochian Archdiocese.

This is a rough game, this archdiocesan politics with its statements, its maneuvering, its ambiguous use of words and decidedly un-Christian set of rules (not the official ones, they're for the newbies, but rather the realpolitik stuff used by the people in the know). How sad it would be if we had to resort to the courts and have them tell us how to govern ourselves. What should I tell the people who listen to me every Sunday? How can I put a positive spin on it? I could tell them shut up and obey but these are not children and even children ask questions that pierce through adult pretensions.

So what to do?

I'm not going to be a "company man" if being such requires me to smile and pretend. This is a rough time, this is awful, this is wrong, and there are no smiles that can shelter us from that storm. I, will, though, be Orthodox in all of this. I have no intention of leaving the Faith and the truth is that all of this has made me dig deeper into its core values. An Archdiocese is an important thing but it is temporary as well. The world is littered with defunct dioceses.The Faith endures, its truth, its call, its beauty, its power, and its hope. Ironically, the solution, the way out may be for all of us to actually become more Orthodox, more faithful, more holy, and more rooted in our Tradition. Its to that shelter I must go and as I find it invite others to follow because after all I may be tired, I may be sad, but I remain.

Sears is already...

starting to market for Christmas.

Yuck. And btw I plan on remembering this when it comes time to actually shop for some gifts.

One of the secrets of...

many martial arts is learning to use an opponent's weight and force against them. Since a number of these arts were developed, as best I remember, to allow unarmed people a defense against the armed this was a crucial skill.

I've been pondering that in relationship to combat with sin. We're often advised to wrestle against the darkness within and this is true but many have never learned the skills of combat while our adversary is old and seasoned. If I were to rushed, today, into a professional ring what chance would I have against even a small but skilled combatant? But I've been thinking.

Now the truth is this is not original thinking but more like an "aha" from a lifetime of struggling, messing up, and trying to recover. If you hit yourself in the head with a board enough times you either knock yourself out or discover that the pain goes away when you stop and my thoughts in this matter are more like the latter.

It certainly matters that people, that I, recognize sin in my life. It's really the first step to getting better and the sad truth is that many people, myself included, have a deep capacity for just being unaware of the force and energy of sin in our lives. But presuming that you have some awareness, and by the way you can ask God for it but understand you won't like what you see, the question becomes how to not simply cope with it but move through and beyond.

Many Orthodox Christians will come to confession with a list of sins, sometimes its an actual written list. Often the list varies little over time. Its the same for me. Our confession is faithful but at best we're simply holding the ground and not advancing. In a certain sense this is okay, God knows us, loves us, cares for us, and accepts our feebleness. His mercy is great and a penitent heart is never rejected.

Yet how good it would be to be able to not fail at the same point time after time? In my career as a sinner I may have stumbled on something, something not new, not original, something that took years to discover because of the sheer density of my intellect and soul, but something that still could make a difference.

It starts with a question. Why do we sin? I'm not talking about the big picture stuff with the fall and inherited mortality because while that's true my thoughts are most focused on why we commit this or that particular sin, sometimes over and over again. And it was at that point that I had the "aha" moment.

The thought is simple. We can listen to and learn from our sins. I'm not talking about cherishing them in our soul and finding new ways to practice sin but rather our particular sins say something about us that, if we listen, we can use to engage them in effective combat.

Let me explain. I can't remember for a second ever being tempted to commit a bank robbery but anger and murder in my heart, that's not unusual especially in city traffic. So what is it about anger in my heart that holds such an attraction to me? As I answer that I realize the anger is about my desire for control, for my sense of wanting the world, including others, to be the way I want them to be, and my frustration when this primal selfishness is not assuaged. The flash of anger is a symptom, a warped sense of who I am is the disease. Address the disease and the symptoms go away.

Now of course putting that principle into practice can be very difficult. Sin is a cagey opponent and just when we think we've got a hold on it it reaches out and gets us from a place we weren't looking. Yet by learning from our sins, what they can teach us about ourselves, we can, like a skilled martial artist use the force of our adversary for our own defense. The attack, whether we know it or not, has within it the knowledge of how to defend against it.

It should be noted as well that this not merely a psychological exercise, but rather a skill that has liturgical and contemplative aspects that must be incorporated into it for it to work. Steeping our lives in holy things is essential to discernment and gives us the strength to draw on, the dynamis necessary to do effective battle. It also requires a commitment of our will. Simply being aware of something without taking steps to engage it is meaningless.

Anyway, I'm not finished with my ponderings yet, so some of what you are getting here is incomplete, developing thought. I posted it for your comments and I hope it helps even in a small way. That I'm ten years into Orthodoxy and just working through this shows you how far I still have to go. But I'm not planning on giving up either.

My apologies...

to Cincinnati regarding a prior post. I forgot one simple fact.

When you normally travel through a city its very probable the highway cuts through some nasty parts of town. Now whether the road was the attempted cure for, or the source of, the blight is another question but the first layer following downtown can be quite depressing. So, by the way, can an area around a working river like the Ohio.

But there were and are bright spots along the way. Cincinnati's downtown was clean and safe, at least on game day, parking was reasonable, and the Great American Ballpark spacious and authentic. The seats were comfortable (seats in the Metrodome in Minneapolis feel even narrower compared to them) and people were generally not boorish (I had to sit one row in front of a Red Sox fan a month ago...).

The suburbs around Cincinnati, well they looked suburban with the added touch of hills coming up from the river. The road to St. James Church in Loveland was particularly nice and reminded me of the bluffs around LaCrosse. By the way, if you ever want to see how people can turn a old school building into a house of worship you should visit St. James Church, the transformation is remarkable.

One thing, though, is for certain. I really like to travel and if I had lottery type money its the one thing I would spend it on, that and some really cool basses. Yet no matter where I go I still like my own bed the best, probably always will. Oh, and the Sheraton Hotel didn't provide a cat with each room. How can a person possibly fall asleep without a cat in the room?

A little fun...

Eco-friendly coffins...

can he found here. Actually, I kind of like the idea.

Was "Neda" a Christian...

The woman whose death as a martyr in the recent unrest in Iran shocked the world may have been a Christian.

The Band...

Vespers Homily...

On December 12, 1999, a small group of us were together at the Morgan Avenue Lutheran Church in Minneapolis, standing at the front of the church, being sealed and made new as a tiny congregation of Western Rite Orthodox.

It seemed like forever since my first contact with Orthodoxy, peeking though the mail slot of St. Panteleimon Church because the door was locked and my curiosity got the best of me. And yet it seemed that time had passed quickly as well, a journey of wandering from place to place seeking a faith and a place where my heart could rest. I had learned much along the way, about myself, my faith, and I knew there was still more to learn, but I was closer now then I ever had been, standing with my brother as my sponsor as oil was placed on my forehead, my eyes, my hands, my ears.

I was no longer the only Baptist pastor in Kansas with an icon. I was no longer the searcher reading “Becoming Orthodox” for the hundredth time. I was no longer opening doors hoping to find something that mattered behind them. I was Orthodox, raw and new for sure, but where I know I needed to be.

People come to Orthodoxy in so many ways but my path was and is a journey of love. I love this faith and as I was struggling towards it every step, looking back, was a step of love. I remember standing outside a little schoolhouse in Mequon, Wisconsin as Fr. Olnhausen pounded on the door a little after midnight. I remember sitting with my brother and weeping as the great hymns of the Liturgy washed over our tired souls at St. Mary’s OCA in Minneapolis. I remember the nights when sleep would not come because my thoughts were deep. I remember the sweet hospitality of the late Fr John Khoury and the patient teaching of Fr. John Mangels as he held our hand and walked us the final way home.

I remember feeling lonely sometimes. I remember doubting myself. I remember the fear I had that my wife could not come with me. I remember wondering would happen to me. I remember longing for the chalice, so close yet so far away, and I remember telling Fr Mangels that I would be a catechumen only if he promised to chrismate me if something bad happened because I did not want to leave this world or the 20^th century without being Orthodox.

And, for the sake of love, I would do it all again.

I love this faith, its sounds, its sights, its smells, its sweet music, its holy stillness. I love the beauty of its prayers and the depth of its theology. I love being in a Church that’s bigger then me and yet accepts me as I am. I love the fact that I am never alone, I walk and worship with Saints and Angels and every Sunday the Lord who loves me visits me in a most holy and intimate way. I love that I am brother with people all around the world, bound together by one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism. There is nothing like the smell of an Orthodox Church, there is nothing like the fragrant meals, the joyous feasts, and the ability to dance even if its just my toe tapping under my cassock. I even love the feisty old Greek lady in my parish who always has something to comment about with a twinkle in her eye. I want to grow old in this faith, I want to die in its embrace, and a million years from now I still want to sing its hymns. All for love.

Now I’m not naïve. I read and see and I know that the guys standing around this hotel with little things in their ears are not people from the Episcopal Church coming to find out what happened to all their members. It’s a hard time now, we’re being tried by fire, the bonds that hold us together are being strained, all is not well, and we each in our own way bear the pain of it all. My eyes are open. I see.

But I will not stop loving this Faith, this Church, and all that is holy and good and right about it. I have traveled far to find Her and I plan on staying. For the love of Her I will not give myself over to dark things and for the sake of Her beauty I will endure. Where would I go without Her? How would I live? What crushing emptiness to stand outside Her doors.

And the hope of my heart is that in this time, even these hard days, you would be awake and aware but not overcome by despair. I pray that whatever love you have for this Church, this Faith, our Lord, will even in these moments be kindled anew if not by the grace of the Holy Spirit at least by the understanding that we often learn the true value of things only through struggle.

The scriptures tell us that weeping endures for the night but joy comes in the morning. By faith I can see that morning and I hope you can as well. And for the love of this faith, its magnificence, its holiness, the light of God that shines through it unconquerable by whatever darkness comes, I hope we draw from its rich depths, strengthen ourselves with its grace, let its life become alive in ours, and with confidence let it lead us all the way home.

I arrived at Cincinnati...

around 10:30 am local time. The flight was delayed but uneventful and I filled the time by reading "What's So Great About Christianity" by Dinesh D'Souza.

Driving through the center of town I'm struck at how worn the city looks. The sign said "Settled in 1788" and there are rows of very interesting houses, tall, skinny, European, that seem like they've been there since then, some without the benefit of a paintbrush. At one time this was the edge of America but America seems to have caught up and passed Cincinnati.

I was struck, too, at the Ohio river as I made my way from the airport, which is actually in Kentucky, to the city itself. Around a century and a half ago this river was the last step towards freedom for slaves and it must have been surreal to be on one side in captivity hoping you could find your way across to the lights on the other shore and freedom.

I'm hoping to see the Reds play on Thursday night and add another stadium to my collection. I'm hoping, too, that the troubles which have presented themselves in the larger Archdiocese stay some distance away. We'll see.

And now for a nap.