Sunday, May 27, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
An Unexpected Easter
In my black suit and with a willful look of certainty on my face I did my best to blend in as I entered St. Basil Greek Orthodox Church last Saturday night for a Paschal (Easter) Vigil. The church's interior felt warm and inviting amidst a cool drizzling night outside. As an usher handed me a tall white candle I slowly squeezed my way through the crowded church narthex into the even more crowded nave. The room was very dark. Midnight was moments away and I managed to find a place against the back wall to stand. Then came the much anticipated moment: the priest emerged before the congregation with a single lit candle and began sharing his small flame with those closest to him. This act was replicated by those with lit candles until even my candle was lit. Soon the room illuminated with hundreds of candles. Gold painted icons of saints that hung throughout the church shimmered in the warm candlelight.
After leading the congregation in several hymns, prayers, and the reading of the Gospel of Mark's resurrection account, the priest offered those climactic words: "Christos Anesti!" to which we assertively affirmed, "Alithos Anesti!" It was a beautiful moment. I couldn't help but sense the rich meaning behind every aspect of this service--especially in those closing words. What happened next I did not expect.
As I exited the nave I was surprised to see several people impatiently shoving their way to the doors, anxious to leave, scowling at those who got in their way. Outside of the church was another surprise for everyone. It was raining heavily. A Spring storm had commenced during our vigil and greeted us with a thick downpour on our way out. Eventually a crowd of clearly unhappy candle-bearers stood on the covered porch outside of the church. Some families began arguing about who should traverse the elements to fetch the car in the parking lot across the street. Others, in their nice Easter dress, bitterly complained, "Why did it have to rain tonight?!"
Both bewilderment and cynicism swept over me as I watched the congregation of worshipers quickly turn into a group of grumblers. "He has risen indeed!"--this beckon to joyful celebration exclaimed moments earlier now seemed all but forgotten. Is Christ not Lord of the rain? I thought. Don't these candles represent the light of Christ that we shine to the world? I wondered. I was further dumbfounded as I witnessed parishioners cutting each other off with their vehicles as we exited the parking lot.
There was a lot on my mind as I drove home that night. The events I observed were littered with irony. The truth and beauty elevated in the vigil contrasted with fickle hearts and forgetful minds. But what bothered me the most was where the irony was most evident: within my very own heart. My experience at church that night was merely illustrative of what takes place within me. I confess, "Christ is Risen!" and "Thy kingdom come!" but complain that heaven's grass is too real for me and sun too bright. I am consistently inconsistent. I am the chief of sinners.
But I am glad that he has risen indeed.
After leading the congregation in several hymns, prayers, and the reading of the Gospel of Mark's resurrection account, the priest offered those climactic words: "Christos Anesti!" to which we assertively affirmed, "Alithos Anesti!" It was a beautiful moment. I couldn't help but sense the rich meaning behind every aspect of this service--especially in those closing words. What happened next I did not expect.
As I exited the nave I was surprised to see several people impatiently shoving their way to the doors, anxious to leave, scowling at those who got in their way. Outside of the church was another surprise for everyone. It was raining heavily. A Spring storm had commenced during our vigil and greeted us with a thick downpour on our way out. Eventually a crowd of clearly unhappy candle-bearers stood on the covered porch outside of the church. Some families began arguing about who should traverse the elements to fetch the car in the parking lot across the street. Others, in their nice Easter dress, bitterly complained, "Why did it have to rain tonight?!"
Both bewilderment and cynicism swept over me as I watched the congregation of worshipers quickly turn into a group of grumblers. "He has risen indeed!"--this beckon to joyful celebration exclaimed moments earlier now seemed all but forgotten. Is Christ not Lord of the rain? I thought. Don't these candles represent the light of Christ that we shine to the world? I wondered. I was further dumbfounded as I witnessed parishioners cutting each other off with their vehicles as we exited the parking lot.
There was a lot on my mind as I drove home that night. The events I observed were littered with irony. The truth and beauty elevated in the vigil contrasted with fickle hearts and forgetful minds. But what bothered me the most was where the irony was most evident: within my very own heart. My experience at church that night was merely illustrative of what takes place within me. I confess, "Christ is Risen!" and "Thy kingdom come!" but complain that heaven's grass is too real for me and sun too bright. I am consistently inconsistent. I am the chief of sinners.
But I am glad that he has risen indeed.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Valtari
Nothing augments everyday experiences, great and small, quite as beautifully as Sigur Ros.
I don't typically follow musicians these days, but I'm eager to hear this new album next month.
I don't typically follow musicians these days, but I'm eager to hear this new album next month.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
So, It's All Your Fault! - Evangelicalism and Politics
If you're like me and following the Republican primaries then you are undoubtedly detecting the enormous role of Evangelicalism (or the "Evangelical bloc") in this political theater. Whether you love or despise its role, you partly have the influence of Frank Schaeffer and his parents to thank for it.
I remember first hearing about Frank Schaeffer, son of Francis and Edith Schaeffer, a few years ago when my parents were bidding farewell to Evangelicalism in pursuit of Eastern Orthodoxy. Schaeffer converted to Orthodoxy in the early 90s and, along with several other well-known Evangelicals, joined a fast-growing list of prominent ex-Evangelical converts. I don't think it betrays my parents' genuine spiritual and theological embrace of Orthodoxy to say that converts like Schaeffer made their transition to something so foreign to an Evangelical as Eastern Orthodoxy a little less intimidating. Oddly, I never learned much more about Schaeffer since that time. I've read a few of both Francis and Edith Schaeffer's books, but was unaware of any of Frank Schaeffer's books or blogs before today. In places like this excellent book lecture, Schaeffer uncovers a bit of why American politics are the way they are today. It was worth all 56 minutes and, if you're even slightly interested in politics, I highly recommend watching it.
Here's an interview from '09...
I remember first hearing about Frank Schaeffer, son of Francis and Edith Schaeffer, a few years ago when my parents were bidding farewell to Evangelicalism in pursuit of Eastern Orthodoxy. Schaeffer converted to Orthodoxy in the early 90s and, along with several other well-known Evangelicals, joined a fast-growing list of prominent ex-Evangelical converts. I don't think it betrays my parents' genuine spiritual and theological embrace of Orthodoxy to say that converts like Schaeffer made their transition to something so foreign to an Evangelical as Eastern Orthodoxy a little less intimidating. Oddly, I never learned much more about Schaeffer since that time. I've read a few of both Francis and Edith Schaeffer's books, but was unaware of any of Frank Schaeffer's books or blogs before today. In places like this excellent book lecture, Schaeffer uncovers a bit of why American politics are the way they are today. It was worth all 56 minutes and, if you're even slightly interested in politics, I highly recommend watching it.
Here's an interview from '09...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)