"Tis what season?

With the Nativity Feast just a week away, I have thought about many memories of past, well, Christmas celebrations.  You see, I don't celebrate, "Christmas" any longer, not because I am trying to make a statement outwardly (well, sometimes I am, especially if someone calls the feast "pagan" in nature) but because I want it to mean more to me than just, well, Christmas.
Let me talk about some of my troubles with the season first.  Not all of my childhood Christmas' were happy; in fact, many of them had arguments and fights, and most of my "presents" were school clothes for the rest of the school year.  There was never a chance for me to "shoot my eye out, kid" because those desires didn't matter.
Also, there are reasons for me to be sad during the season that have nothing to do with Christmas itself.  My mother died December 22, 2000, three days short of Christmas and four days shy of what would have been her 71st birthday.  Her calling hours were on that 71st birthday.
Then there is the culture war going on over what to do with the season.  So many get "offended" by Christ that "it must be removed from the public" and in removing Him, offend many more times the people.  Both sides use the Constitution of the USA to justify their positions, yet I do wonder how many people have actually read not only the Constitution, but the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, and the Federalist Papers as well.  If anything, I wish my father had made me read the Holy Bible as religiously as he made me read those documents, because, like the Holy Bible, "school wasn't going to teach them".
I guess what I am getting at here is that I am looking inside myself, and to Jesus, for what this season is supposed to mean.  For a season meant to mark the coming of the Prince of Peace, it sure starts out with a lot of consumer violence and hatred toward your fellow man.  If Christmas means getting pepper sprayed by someone who wants a shopping bargain before I can get it, then it's not a holiday I want to celebrate.  It's one thing for me to shoot my own eye out; I don't need someone else to spray them out for me!
There are still some things about Christmas I enjoy.  I enjoy the carols, some of the movies (obviously "A Christmas Story", but also the first two "Home Alone" movies as well as "Christmas Vacation"), some of the TV specials (though I have to watch "The Little Drummer Boy" online now as TV doesn't show it lest anyone be offended), and I have come to enjoy being in church so much more than I did even as a child.  As I get older, however, I am not so anxious for the celebrations of Christmas any longer.  I am becoming much happier in just sitting in silence, reading the Gospel of Luke, being in the temple praying.  I am learning that for me, this is what the true feast is.  The feast is not about the dinner (though I won't say no to good food), but the table our Lord and Savior came to prepare for us.  That I am not worthy, yet invited, is humbling.  That I am welcomed unfathomable to me, first amongst sinners.
Maybe someday, I'll learn, but that's an awful big maybe.

God's Time

I have all the time God has given me, and I still feel hurried.
I have plenty of time for prayer, but I find a distraction.
I have plenty of time for silence, yet create noise.
I have plenty of time for love, but fail to reach out.
I have plenty of time to be loved, but never accept it.
I have plenty of time for entertainment, but claim to be bored.
I have plenty of time for family, yet shun them.
I have plenty of time to submit to God's will, yet still force mine into my prayers.
My simple prayer today is this: Dear God, allow me to use the time you have given me to do Your will, to humbly worship You, as You are most deserving of praise, and to accept that all answers come with time, and all time comes from You.

Amen.

My prayer for silence

Prayer is actively talking to God.
Silence is allowing Him time to answer.
Prayer is telling God what your needs are.
Silence is God telling you what He needs from you.
Prayer is giving God your wish list.
Silence is God prioritizing it.
Prayer is a discipline.
Silence is a devotion.
Prayer is telling God you love Him.
Silence is letting God love you.
Prayer is giving God thanks.
Silence is letting God thank you.
Prayer is a blessing to God.
Silence is God's blessing to you.
Prayer is humbling yourself before God.
Silence is humbling yourself to serve God.
Prayer acknowledges God as a higher power.
Silence empowers you to submit to Him.
Prayer is what you will to God.
Silence is willing yourself to God.
Prayer takes time.
Silence is timeless.

I need to serve You better.

Dear Lord:
Today I have failed you, again, yet You still show me Your mercy in ways that I can not always comprehend at first.
I find myself in bad situations of my own making, and You reach out to me through a church community that overlooks my faults and only asks that I lend a helping hand.
I find myself getting angry at the world (and sometimes I can't help but say I am right in what I say) but it is only through You that I find the peace to forgive, though I may need some time to calm down first (which You also provide).
I find myself hurting those who love me, and You give me the gift of repentance so that maybe I can not hurt them so often.
I find myself feeling hopeless, and the thought of You and Your promises give me hope which I feel I do not deserve.
I find myself thinking I am intelligent, only to hear words of wisdom from a child.
I find myself thinking I am wise, and then make a fool of myself, but not for Your sake.
I find myself thinking I know what I want from life, only to find out I only know my will, and not Yours.
I find myself thinking I know Your will, only to serve myself.
I find myself thinking I am at peace, only to find I am at war with myself.
I find myself thinking I am protecting others from myself, when I have put them in the heat of my battle.
I find myself wishing for the gifts of the spirit when I am truly obsessing with my bodily needs.
I find myself not always content with where I am, thus forgetting You led me here for a reason.
I find myself unable to say thank you when without You, I am nothing.
In these, and more things, my Lord, I have failed You today.  My Lord, hear my simple prayer now.  Help me to serve You better.  Amen.

Thanksgiving

I am thankful for a God who loves me, though I feel undeserving.
I am thankful He sent me people who love me, though I feel undeserving.
I am thankful for His son who sacrificed everything for me, though I feel undeserving.
I am thankful that I live in the greatest country man ever invented, though I feel undeserving.
I am thankful for a pet who loves me unconditionally, though I feel underserving.
I am thankful for all the blessings I celebrate today, though I feel undeserving.
Finally, I am thankful for a good cup of coffee.  Maybe I deserve that.
Happy and Blessed Thanksgiving to all.

Believer, or Christian?

If someone were to ask me to describe myself (and people often do), some of the words I use would be humorous, compassionate if not kind (I do not believe them synonomous), intelligent, and hard working (ok, the last one is two words, so perhaps diligent or industrious would be better).  It just occurred to me, though, that Christian is not a word that usually comes out, let alone first.  So, how would Jesus feel about that?
Truthfully, I will never know in my lifetime, unless Jesus returns while I still draw a breath.  What happens if I do describe myself first as Christian?  Is that truly putting Jesus first, or is it me trying get His attention for it?
When I was a catechumen, Father Igor, who Chrismated me, once gave a sermon about something similar (or at least mentioned it in one of his sermons).  He said he didn't like saying he was "Christian"; he preferred to say he was a believer in Jesus Christ and His teachings.  What struck me as odd was that I said the exact same thing for years, though perhaps for more earthly reasons.  I felt it played into identity politics that would not allow for my political thoughts to be taken seriously.  However, as I sat in church that day and listened to Father Igor's sermon, I realized something that I would never have thought.
I realized that before we can call ourselves Christan, we have to believe in Jesus.  I realized that before we can believe in Jesus, we have learn about His teachings and the Gospel.  I realized that before the Gospel can be learned, we must learn our own hearts, as was spoken to me years before by a different Orthodox priest after I went to my first liturgy.  And I further realized the most amazing thing to me; until I know my own heart, there is no way Jesus can change what is in it for me, for even though Jesus works miracles, you need to believe in them for them to happen.
I have removed myself from the inaneness of politics now.  I used to love debating them, but Jesus (thank you, by the way) changed that in me.  Yes, I still read up on current events, and hold my own views, but I don't enjoy the debating and knowledge of them any longer.  I still vote, but that is as far as any political involvement will ever go with me from now on.
I am much more content now with reading my prayer books, the Gospels and the Psalms, the history of the church, the biographies of the saints, and letting them change me more than politics ever could.  I'll never know if I am a Christian, because I am not trying to find that out any longer.   I am content to be merely a believer.  As we fast approach this Nativity season, the season that gives us a reason to believe, I find it more important than ever to remember what Father Igor said in his sermon that day, and I find the contentedness it brings strengthens me.
I pray, and ask you to pray for me also, that my belief can grow so I can become a better person, whether anyone on this Earth calls me a Christian or not.  I promise to do the same for all of you who read this, though it will help me to let me know who you are.  Actually, I'll pray for you anyhow, for Jesus already knows who you are.
God Bless..

If I were a Tevye

"If I were rich I'd have the time that I lack to sit in the Synagogue and pray and maybe have a seat by the Eastern Wall;
 And I'd discuss the Holy Books with the learned men seven hours every day; and that would be the sweetest thing of all."

Tevye.  I know he's a fictional character, but in so many ways, I wish I had his piousness.  Here was a man who trusted God implicitly.  He knew God was always there, even if he wasn't always happy about his circumstances.  He always talked to God as if they were friends, the most intimate type of prayer.  He was human, too; he laughed, got angry, felt pain, made mistakes that hurt others, but no one could deny he was dedicated to God, family, and tradition.
Tradition.  The opening song to "Fiddler on the Roof".   So important to Tevye, and so important in any faith.  Stumbling through an education in Orthodox Christianity, I have come to see just how important tradition is in Orthodoxy, but most important, I have learned why, at least in part.
Tradition tells us things that might otherwise get lost along the way.  It tells us that some things are too important to discard in the name of progress.   If it weren't for the traditions of the church, we would certainly have lost the wisdom of the saints.
How often I tell myself to acquire a peaceful spirit so that thousands around me can be saved.  Of course, my failure to do so is more my own obstacle than it is a counter argument; in fact, I think my failure to do so is proof that St Seraphim of Sarov was correct.
St Basil the Great of Caesarea once said to take that which is good, even from pagan authors, and benefit from it.  If I hadn't heard that, I probably would never have found inspiration in an Oscar Wilde saying about saints and sinners.
I also have to admit that I would love nothing more than spending all day talking about God, and as a Christian, Jesus, and the rest of the bible.  How sweet that would be.
So, deep down, I guess I do know that God is always there.  He may not always show up in a way I expect, or even recognize at the time, but he is there.  If I don't talk to him as often as Tevye, that's not His fault.  That's just me forgetting my tradition.
Lachaim!

St John Kochorov

October 31, 1917, was a day of sadness in the Orthodox Christian faith.  Father John Kochurov, a priest in Tsarskoe Selo, Russia, was murdered by the Bolsheviks for refusing to stop a prayer service dedicated to the end of the Russian Civil War that brought the Communists to power.  He became the first martyr, or Heiromartyr, of the Bolshevik yoke, the first of many priests, monks, bishops, and other clergy murdered in the Soviet Union in the name of Communism.
When I became a member of the Orthodox Church, I took him as my Orthodox Patron of North America.  Last year, I wrote a song about him and his martyrdom.
With the anniversary of his martyrdom being on Monday of this week, I have decided to post the lyrics here.  I have also posted a YouTube video of the song "Ode to St John Kochurov" that you can view if you wish, but I warn you, it is FAR from my best performance of the song.
To St John Kochurov; I find your courage inspiring.  Memory Eternal.



How can we help you, Father John, Father John?
Praying for us as you bleed
Shielding God’s people, Father John, Father John
As evil sweeps Russia in word and in deed

They’ve captured the royals, Father John, Father John

Stolen their riches and homes
They claim them for the people, Father John, Father John
And then keep those riches all for their own.

The show you no mercy, Father John, Father John

They say what you teach is absurd.
And they mean to tame us, Father John, Father John
By using their bullets to silence God’s word

They mourn in Chicago, Father John, Father John

In a church that you labored to build
They mourn out in Brooklyn Father John, Father John
Upon hearing how and why you were killed

We ask not for vengeance, Father John, Father John

We ask that we only be saved
From Godless oppression, Father John, Father John
A power that’s only described as depraved

In seventy years, Father John, Father John
A people enslaved now are free
The yoke of their burden, Father John, Father John
Are thought to be written as old history

Still we are praying, Father John, Father John
That you died for us not in vain

In you we find courage, Father John, Father John
As evil sweeps over this land once again

How can we help you, Father John, Father John?
Praying for us as you bleed
Shielding God’s people, Father John, Father John
As evil rains on us in word and in deed

Anger Management.

Anger management.  What, exactly is meant by it?
I am meant to believe that we are supposed to somehow manage our anger.  If I am wrong, I humbly ask for proper correction.  I am all in favor of learning this to make me a better Christian.
However, what is the standard of it?  Are we all meant to control our anger in a way that only society can approve of?  If so, what is that standard, and how can everyone live up to it?
My problem with anger is kind of three fold: my father was violent and abusive, and even if he were alive today, he would be bigger and tougher than many pro wrestlers and football players.  He also loved to fight, so my chances of striking back at him were abysmal at best.
The second fold is being bullied and ostracized at school.  I survived it, and harbor no ill feelings towards those who bullied me (I also pray for the one who bullied me the most every day).  Whether I have truly let go of it, only God can tell.
The third problem is my own attitude.  I have always held the opinion that if I do not strike out in a physical way, I have managed my anger, at least to some degree.  I do not think I am wrong.
However, what exactly are we to do according to society, and according to God?   I think there are two different answers, and a collision is inevitable.
Society seems to want to tell me that I am the problem.  My anger is my own inability to deal with stressful situations.  My anger is only my fault, because only I can control it.  Well, ok, I can buy into the last part of that last statement.  What I can not buy into is that my anger is entirely my own problem.  If it were, how do we explain righteous anger?  If anger is only our problem, then righteous anger is a fallacy; I see that as the only logical conclusion.
I can not see Jesus and His anger in the temple as His fault.  I can not see His denunciation of the Scribes and Pharisees as His inability to control Himself.  How can we say it is unjust to be angry at that which contradicts God's word?
So now, I ask if I am wrong to be angry at someone who, for example, constantly interrupts me when I am speaking, especially about my anger or my feelings.  After all, unlike anyone else in my family, interrupting me is a huge deal, for many reasons; I find it disrespectful, and I find it distracting from the matter at hand.  Further, when it comes to my anger, I make no secret of being interrupted as one of my biggest pet peeves; if we are in a discussion, all you need to do is continuously interrupt me to make me boil, and without using those exact words, I do not hide that from anyone.  Perhaps it is why I do better writing than in a conversation.
So what do I do?  Do I express my anger, and make the temptation to allow it to rule me, or do I sit in silence and try to calm down, where sometimes it can have a deleterious effect on my health?  Actually, even venting my anger can be deleterious to my health.
So, I give my anger to God.  That angers some people, especially those who are angry with me from time to time.  Make no mistake; I am perfectly capable of angering someone, and in the past, I have been known to do so purposely.  For that, I ask forgiveness.  However, how can I give my anger to God when I am told that I am avoiding the issue, or that I refuse to deal with them?  Therein lies the paradox.  We can not give our anger to God without the silent meditation of prayer, and in silence, we run the risk of being told we have a problem in dealing with our anger.  How convenient for some, and another source of some mild anger for me.
Here is another paradox; we are advised to speak about how we feel.  I believe the phrase is "get in touch with our feelings".  As arrogant is this may sound from me, and God forgive me, a sinner, that is rich.  I am already in touch with that feeling; I am angry!  Did they miss that?  Why I am angry is also not a problem in communication.  I have a good command of the vocabulary, and can even be eloquent on occasion.  I will tell you why I am angry in any given circumstance.  I may not always be pleasant about it, but the message is clear enough.
What I think the big problem is with my anger is that some people will never accept what it is that angers me.  Sure, I am supposed to forgive, but does that mean others can provoke without impunity? 
I do not believe that is true.  Jesus was certainly provoked at the temple.  He was certainly provoked by the Pharisees.  He had no problem allowing His righteous anger to show.  He had no problem in communicating the consequences of God's wrath.  He had no problem forgiving, either.
Most psychology books I read on the subject of anger tell me that it is neither a positive or a negative emotion.  I think that statement is well meaning, but incorrect.  Anger lets you know there is something wrong with the situation you are in.  When something is wrong, it is then we must turn to God the most lest we stray off the path we are stumbling on.   I have yet to see that in any psychology book or hear it from anyone who tells me I have anger management problems, except for the priests who counsel me.
So what do I do?  As I say, I am open to suggestion.  Please, though, don't interupt me.

Sit Down, Young Stranger

Anyone familiar with the music of Gordon Lightfoot knows that "Sit Down, Young Stranger" is the title to one of his songs; in fact, it is the track immediately preceding, and it was the original title to the album that gave us, "If You Could Read My Mind".  The song describes a young traveler who stands in a doorway "Not knowing where to sit, not knowing where to stand" and embarks on a story that entwines youthful idealism pertaining to the travels of the traveler and the lessons learned from those travels.
Apart from the fact it is on one of his most popular releases, this song has always been one of my favorites of his, for I have always found many spiritual messages in it.  In the lyrics, the "Crown of thorns" are mentioned ( to wear the crown of peace, you must wear the crown of thorns) as well as Jesus (If Jesus had a reason, I'm sure He would not tell/We treated Him so badly, how could He wish us well?).
I have been thinking of this song recently, and I think I know why.  I have been guilty of the sin of anger.  Anger is certainly one of my biggest obstacles to overcome in my life.  If I can only remember the teaching of St Seraphim of Sarov "Acquire a peaceful spirit, and thousands around you will be saved" then perhaps I wouldn't display my temper so often.  I probably wouldn't even try to justify it by saying "At least I am not physically violent" like it's supposed to make it acceptable.  Well, it is true in both respects; I go out of my way not to strike out at anyone physically in anger, unlike many in my childhood, and honestly, not many people can understand just how stressful that can be.  Many people do not understand that when I am angry, I am fighting two battles; one with who I am angry at, and one with myself.   However, neither battle helps me acquire that peaceful spirit, and truly, if I can not be peaceful to save myself, I certainly am in no position to save others.
So, back to the young stranger for a moment.  Those who question this traveler cynically ask what the stranger will tell them about the world ("And will you try and tell us you've been too long at school/That knowledge is not needed that power does not rule/That war is not the answer, that young men should not die/Sit Down, Young Stranger, I wait for your reply) only to have their scorn rebuked by the lyrics above pertaining to the Crown of Thorns and Jesus' life and crucifixion.
Now my question comes back to myself  "How can those I am angry at still love me?".  I certainly felt provoked in my anger, and perhaps rightfully so, or perhaps not.  Honestly, I am not certain yet.  All I know is that a couple of days ago, someone I lashed out at in anger put their arms around me lovingly and forgave me.  How could they wish me well?
This person knows nothing of St Seraphim of Sarov, but they do know of Jesus.  I have prayed with this person often.  I have laughed with this person just as often.  Now, this person has taught me as much about Jesus and his love for me as St Seraphim of Sarov, any other saint, and any bible lesson ever has.  This person taught by example.
So, now, how do I make myself a better person for the next time this person, or some other person, angers me?  Better yet, is it the person angering me, or is it me that is always angry and just looking for a reason to display it?  "If Jesus has a reason, I'm sure He would not tell."  I hope someone does tell me.
All in all, I think I should be grateful for this experience.  Having hurt feelings is no reason to lash out at someone.  Being intelligent is no reason to perceive others as less so.  Being angry is not justification for angering others.  Love is not just what you do for a person, nor is it what this person does for you.  Love has a short memory for hurts and long, strong arms for the forgiveness of them.
"There's rockets in the meadow, and ships out on the sea/The answer's in the forest, carved upon a tree/ 'John loves Mary'/ Does anyone love me?"  The other day, I found the answer to that last question to be yes, many people, including Jesus and others who I have hurt.
God Bless.

Confession

I am feeling very introspective about myself today, so rather than ramble on incoherently, though I do that very well, I am just going to share the lyrics of a song I wrote last winter.  I know it comes from a dark place, for the music I composed to it is darker than any song I have ever written before, or since.
The song is called Confession, and the first line of each verse is taken from the opening of the confession from a Roman Catholic point of view.  After that, it is what it says.
Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.


                                                                      CONFESSION

Bless me, Father, I have sinned

I need to talk to you again
For my soul is weighing heavier
And my strength is wearing thin

Bless me, Father, I have lied

I know this can’t be justified
From this truth I can no longer hide
Bless me, Father, I have lied

Bless me, Father, I have stole

I envied and I lost control
With nothing gained, I nearly lost my soul
Bless me, Father, I have stole

With all my sins laid bare in front of me

And all my ghosts so close behind
Father, have I lost salvation
Or have I lost my mind?

Bless me, Father, pray for me

I have no shred of dignity
As God forgives, there’s Satan tempting me
Bless me, Father, pray for me

The Heart of the Bible

"First learn what's in your heart; THEN learn what's in the Bible".

This was the advice of the priest immediately after the first liturgy I ever attended.  The above sentence isn't exactly how he conveyed the information to me; he actually used gestures for the heart and the Bible and used the word "here" during those gestures.  I would need to put it on video to describe how it looked.   Still, if I had never heard this sentence and had this experience, I would never have become an Orthodox Christian.
What this experience did is show me that the Bible is not a story book.  It is not an educational textbook.  If you look at it as only a book, it can only be considered a reference library at best, because, like a library, it is a collection of books from different times from various authors.  The truth the priest revealed to me that Sunday morning, though, is that the Bible is so much more.
It told me that your attitude determines how the Bible speaks to you.  If you read it full of anger, you will find a vindictive purpose.  If you read it to debunk the faith, you will take from it the disbelief you started with.  If you read it to find contradictions, then you will find them.  If you read it only for an intellectual pursuit, you will be satisfied.  If you read it for legalistic purposes, they are there.
Amazingly, though, it also has the effects opposite of those attitudes I stated above.  If you look in the Bible for love, you will find it there in abundance.  If you look for truth, then you will find it in the words of the Gospel.  If you look for wonder, you will find that wonder in the life story of Jesus and in the Acts of the Apostles.  If you look for joy, you will find it in every act of compassion Jesus showed to those considered the worst of society by the elites of the time.
I still haven't read the Bible in it's entirety, though I am reading more of it at least weekly, and I don't think that it is necessarily a condemnation of either myself or the Bible. I am reading more about the lives of the saints and the early church fathers, and that is not to be discouraged, either.   What this reading is doing, though is allowing me to see just how my heart, and what is in it, has an effect on everything in life.  That, I think, is the message I was given that Sunday morning after my first Liturgy.  That is the heart of the Bible, and of Orthodoxy.
God Bless.

Orthodoxy of Dad and Prayer

"Do as I say, not as I do."
"Figures don't lie, liars figure."
"If you are stupid enough to play in traffic, you deserve to get hit by a car."
"Those who can't hear must feel."

In an attempt not to be sacreligious, and please forgive me, a sinner, if it is, when I was growing up, sayings like these were often preached, and as I got older, I referred to them as the Gospel of Dad.  After all, the last time I remember Dad attending any church service was his mother's funeral just a few months shy of ten years before his own.  Suffice to say, Dad was not a religious man by anyone's measure.
Still,  Dad was full of short, tough one line sayings, especially like the third one listed above; to generalize them when I discuss them, I always said Dad had a bunch of "If you are stupid enough to do Action A, you deserve Consequence B" sayings.  There were: "play in traffic/get hit by a car", "smoke by a gas pump/get blown up", "play with matches/ get burned"," jump from a tree/break a leg", and those are the ones I remember.  If given time, I know I can remember more of them, but I think I made my point.  I know Dad made his.
Regardless of whether you think he was harsh (and I do) you can not deny one thing about all of them; they held a simple truth.  The first one I mentioned revealed the simplest truth of my childhood; Dad was the boss of the house.  Home wasn't a democracy.  About figures?  You couldn't fool Dad about money, and the math always trips you up if you try to hide something concerning money.  The final one up above was usually used as a warning that unless you obeyed him, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week, if he went easy on you.  If he didn't, well, you couldn't deny being warned.
One thing about his "Those who can't hear must feel" saying, though, is that it reveals an even bigger truth that doesn't have to mean the threat of physical violence.  What do we say about those who mock our faith, who think that because they have studied the Bible, that they know more about the faith than the people who live it?  I have never been told not to read the Bible, but I have been told that it is your prayer life that is the most important aspect of your growth, even more than being able to recite the Bible from memory.
When I have a problem I need to discuss with my spirtual Father, the word pray is used more often than any other.  I do not recall being told to look at any specific book in Scripture by any priest.  Not a one of them has failed to mention prayer, though.
As I grow in the faith of Orthodox Christianity, one thing I am realizing is, that like living with Dad, prayer demands discipline.  Being someone who is comfortable lacking discipline, this poses an obstacle to me.  Unlike a monk, I can not rise out of bed and go straight to the Trisagion Prayers, though I can say the Prayer of the Publican with my first cup of coffee.  I can start my daily prayers like the Trisagion and the Troparia after, but that is not necessarily a good thing, and worse, if it is Sunday, there IS NO COFFEE before liturgy.  I thought the Paschal and Nativity fasts were tough, but Sunday mornings before Communion is the most difficult four hours of my week!  So, I leave it to your imagination, which I pray is not as vivid as mine, to see how difficult Sunday prayers before Liturgy are to me.
On the upside, I find the discipline starting to manifest itself.  Sunday mornings are not as bad as they were, say, right after my Chrismation into the Orthodox Church.  I have improved, but I certainly am not there yet.  I also have to take into account that at least I can say the Prayer of the Publican as I get out of bed.  I remember when I could barely murmur coffee when still a catechumen.
So maybe Dad was good to me in his harshness.  Since I survived him, which as a teenager I can honestly say there were times I thought I wouldn't, I have learned to look at him a bit differently now.  Even more amazing to me, though, is that I pray for him every day.  His "Those who can't hear, must feel" lecture resonates with me everytime I discuss my spiritual problems with my spirtual Father.  My spirtual Father is telling me to pray for a reason.  My spritual Father tells me to pray about my problems, and give them to God.  He tells me to pray for those who would mock me, and the faith.  He tells me to pray for my family and friends, and for those in our parish.  He tells me to pray for those who can not hear the Promise and the Power of the Gospel.
After all these years, Father knows best.

Saints and sinners

"The only difference between a saint and a sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future."  Oscar Wilde.

I think of this quote often.  For someone who embraced decadence, who lived a life of hedonism, who certainly did some very unbiblical things, Mr Wilde was accurate in this assessment.  After all, isn't accepting Christ as our Savior a promise to do better with each fall?
Who among us can say we haven't sinned, even, and perhaps especially, after accepting the challenge of Jesus?  After all, even years after setting on my path to become an Orthodox Christian, I still get angry, sometimes a bit too easily.  I still am willing to pass by a beggar in the street, sometimes because I have no money to give them, but just as often because I admit I find them intrusive.  Not so much annoying, but intrusive.  By ignoring them, is it not possible I am also ignoring Jesus?   In Matthew 25, doesn't He tell us that "what we did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me"?
In thinking about my own failures, I now am forced to confront what the failures might have been of those saints I admire and have read about.  St Lawrence, a martyr from the early church, and for whom I was named, certainly had a sense of humor, as legend has it that while he was being burned alive on a gridiron, he commented to his executioners "You might want to turn me over; I am done on this side".  Did he harbor any anger for what he was being put through?  How exactly could his actions before his martyrdom hurt those who cared about him?
I also think of St John Kochurov, Heiromartyr of the Bolshevik Yoke, who I chose as my North American Patron in the Orthodox Church.  He certainly labored to build a church in Chicago, but what might have angered him during that time?  Was it all righteous anger for the faith, or was it the petty annoyances of the mundane world?  We do know that he was the first priest martyred by the Bolsheviks; in fact, that anniversary approaches at the end of this month.  What we don't know are things about his life that are not related to the church or his martyrdom.
Of course, I would be remiss if I neglected to mention St Paul.  After all, a man who wrote so much of the New Testament was, at first, a persecutor of those he eventually became a saint to.  If he could go from persecutor to saint, why can I not change myself in a similar fashion?
So, other than lack of money, what is to stop me from giving a panhandler a quarter the next time I see one?  Why should I get too angry at anyone for something trivial, like having a different opinion than I do?  OK, if they threaten to take away my religious rights, I think that can qualify for righteous anger, but other than that?  What about the driver who cuts me off?  Should I allow myself to ramble on angrily, or forgive them, and pray that maybe they will be more careful next time?  Perhaps most of all, what about those who I inspire to anger, or cut off in traffic?  What about those who get angry with me for not thinking the way they do?  Are they not as deserving of the same forgiveness I seek, and am I not as deserving of the scorn I have given?
I feel quite certain I will never be seen by many as a saint, unless, of course, I am somehow martyred for the church, which I can honestly say I do not forsee.  Yet the path of Orthodoxy, and indeed Christianity, is not a final destination, as Father Igor always told me in my catechumen classes, but rather, it is a work in progress.  I will not deny that the ghosts of sins past, like the ghost of Christmas Past in "A Christmas Carol" can sometimes find ways to tempt me into feeling unworthy, but the joy that fills my heart as I hear the opening lines of every Divine Liturgy "Blessed is the Kingdom...."  offers me a new beginning that is only made possible by Jesus and His promise of salvation in the Kingdom He taught of.  That anyone would do for me what He did for me in his ministry, by His teachings, and by His sacrifice, and that He left a church to preserve it all to this day, makes me wonder why I fail to show that mustard seed of mercy or offer the fruit of forgiveness and yet still feel welcomed in His church.
It is true that only God knows what is in the hearts of any person, myself included.  It is also true that Christ can change hearts, as He did for St Paul, and for that, I can be both hopeful and thankful.  I can be hopeful that because of Christ's love for me, I can change, and I can be thankful that, as a sinner, I have a future, as Oscar Wilde so keenly pointed out to me in his writings.

Introduction

Hello all. My name is Lawrence.  I currently am 47 years old, male, and a recent convert to Orthodox Christianity.  Like so many American converts, my choice was not easy.  I was baptized and otherwise brought up in the Roman Catholic tradition, by what I would call "lapsed Catholics".  I went to church, thanks to a family that lived up on the hill behind me growing up, but I suppose I never had a very good teaching of the faith or of the history of the church.
I recall never feeling fully at home in the Roman Catholic church, even when I was an altar boy.  Don't get me wrong; I do not hate the Roman Catholic Church, and I actually find myself defending it against many influences today, including, but not limited to, secularism, Bible Fundamentalists, atheism, and bigotry.  That the church has shot itself in the foot in recent years is more tragic than anything, especially considering the wolves that already smelled blood before such shooting.  However, none of the recent scandals had anything to do with why I never felt at home.  If anything, one of the priests I had, Father Thomas Guyder from St Joseph's Church in Camillus, NY, was one of the most magnificent blessings I had in a certainly troubled childhood.  Rather, I think the reason for my lack of comfort dates back to over 900 years before I was born.
To one who knows the history of the church, even vaguely, it can be reasoned that I speak of the Schism between East and West in 1054.  There were many reasons for the split; some political, some theological, but regardless of which path one chose from it, the result can not be denied; disunity and a loss of grace.  We can see through the hindsight of history what has happened since; Martin Luther, John Calvin, Joseph Smith, Ellen G White, and countless others have split the faith into much more than it is supposed to be, and not all of it can be considered good.
We are supposed to be united by our faith in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and Savior of our souls.  Rather, since 1054, it appears that we have descended into a legalism, a judiciary, and a practice perhaps not anticipated by those who took part in the events of 1054.  Instead of looking for the commonality of unification, we seem to be looking to justify ourselves through legal interpretations of scripture. It is almost as if we are forgetting Matthew, Chapter Six, where Jesus instructed us not to be like the hypocrites that prayed for the sole purpose of being seen by other men.  We forget that they have their reward; they were seen and praised by their peers.  Rather, we should not worry whether we are seen or unseen, heard or unheard by others around us.  We should be praying for such things as are pleasing to God and beneficial to mankind.  We should be hoping against hope that, in today's world, what is more important is what we are truly praying for and not to be seen as inerrant.
There are those who will never accept Jesus, and certainly there are those who would much like us to go away and not be seen nor heard.  I think this is a time we should be heard more clearly if indeed we are to stay unseen, and for this, unity is essential.
In the future, I will be talking more about my failings along the path of Orthodoxy than I will about any theological profundity, and I hope that in all humility, I can learn something about myself, about anyone who reads this, and about what God wants from me.  For now, one thing I know I need too do is get my prayer life back to the way it was when I was but a catechumen, and I can not pray for that unity while typing a blog.
God Bless.