Ocean Orchestra’s blog

It's amazing how big the world can still be. Becoming Orthodox has opened me to a near-inexhaustible library of astounding and propounding -- and indeed holy -- literature, both ancient and contemporary (seeing as how the contemporary is also ancient, given its infinite source), as well as in book and blog form. A great example would be Fr. John Tobias' review of David Bentley Hart's new book, Atheist Delusions, a book I have been so eager to read that I'm contemplating pushing back my next summer reading book back a slot. Few, if any, match Hart's eloquence in writing and wit, but Fr. Tobias doesn't leave his readers wanting.

Consider the following passage, in which Fr. Tobias clarifies Hart's thesis, for anyone who may have thought Atheist Delusions could or should be boiled down to "a sure bet in a back alley cockfight with the "new atheists." 

His proposition was that the Christian Church brought about a profound revolution, whose effects permeated the world of human society. It established what is facilely known as "Christendom" (West and East): everyone knows that, but Hart proves that what we like to think of as "the West" is fundamentally this very Christendom – despite the current and odious attempt to establish a secular singular Europe. All the liberal things we are justly proud of are in fact Christian inventions; to name just a few: things like hospitals, effective medicine, justice for the powerless, "healthcare and welfare," the prohibition of gladiatorial combat, the eradication of slavery, the full involvement of women in religion (suggesting that the male priesthood contradicts the full participation of women in Orthodoxy is as lamentable as supposing that female motherhood diminishes the participation of males in parenthood, or that female wifehood prohibits the full range of male sexuality).

That last point sounds abrupt in a bozart age when "full participation" has been jingo-ized into hieretical affirmative action. But Christianity was the first to involve all adherents – rich or poor, slave or free, men or women, Greek, Roman and Jew – cramming them all into one single Liturgy and Sacrament, the same font and cup, the same nave. The question of "why can't I be the celebrant?" was never related to St. Paul's "in Christ there is no Jew nor Greek, male or female, slave nor free."

The Christian Revolution went deeper than political enfranchisement, thank God. And thus, all the conservative things, too, that we cherish are at least fulfilled in Christianity, if not inaugurated at the Cross and Pentecost. Truth and the infinite, the beautiful and the good were wrested out of the heave-ho tides of cultural philosophies and political cults. They were solidified, even "realized" (if one wants to sound hackneyed) in the Holy Tradition catapulted by the Third Person and the Apostles. 

He has a good deal more to say on that subject and others, touching on even the recent (and suddenly receded) wave of hero worship around our new president. I found this part particularly enjoyable and insightful:

I am glad this book came along when it did, because I was down in the dumps about history and all that – contemporary history, that is, like right now. I wasn't so sad about Obama winning, nor was I very glad. I saw the hoopla all last year, and what brought me by the lee was not that the country is turning socialist (which it's not), or that the masses adulating Obama were like the despotic pep rallies of the Thirties (which they are not). Obama's rallies were more like revival meetings (very familiar to me) and nothing at all like an Amway or Falangista gathering, or any other such synaxis of troglodytes.

But Obama's revival meetings, like all revival meetings, are bound to grow cold and clammy at the press of real tomorrow. Time itself proves too great a challenge for all Protestant endeavors, especially including the fervent myths choreographed by the Democratic Party.

That is not the cause of my diffuse woe. There is nothing new about Democratic disillusionment (for therapy, they should read about Claudius' disillusionment with the Senate). I grieve, rather, for the ongoing illusionment of the Republicans and all who are "right." The divide between authentic conversativism – the sort envisioned by Russell Kirk, T. S. Eliot and the Inklings, Richard Weaver and the Agrarians – and the current dreck of right-wing, neo-cheney-con, evangelo-babbulo palinitism is getting more like the gulf between Lazarus and rich man … that is, after the tables were turned. I grieve that Chesterton and Belloc would be certainly damned as socialists and communists by His Cigarness, the Grand Poobah, and His Minister of Michael Scott Impersonation, Dreck of Fox. Already, "distributism" is thrown here and there as a curseword. I would worry for GK and Hillaire more were it not for the sorry fact that they are not read, if they are known at all.

The whole piece, while admittedly I don't quite grasp it all, is quite intriguing, and makes me only more eager to read Hart's book. Can The Brothers Karamozov really stand to be pushed back?

How To Be a Poet
(to remind myself)

Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill — more of each
than you have — inspiration,
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your work,
doubt their judgment.

Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air.
Shun electric wire.
Communicate slowly. Live
a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.
There are no unsacred places;
There are only sacred places
And desecrated places.

- WENDELL BERRY -

Approaching Pascha (Easter), it strikes me how uninterested human beings have become with resurrection. That the idea that a person could raise or be raised from the dead could become almost a commodity (even among Christians!) makes little sense to me, though I perceive the tendency just as keenly within myself. At what point did we lose our fascination with the idea that death could be not be as definitely final as we know it to be? Is it that we, having disposed with the religions that seek to make some sense of faith, nevertheless continue to presuppose an afterlife, a syrupy residual that we, deep in our hearts, still hope for even while we recoil from any explicit discussion on the matter?

Of course, there are the skeptics out there who proclaim vigilently the absence of every hope. There's a popular atheistic slogan that started with advertisements on buses in England and is spreading across the West among the new breed of "humanists," which reads: "There's probably no god, so stop worrying and enjoy your life." Another slogan I read from Seattle appeared at Christmas time: "Why believe in a god? Be good for goodness' sake."

This paradigm presupposes nothing. All we have is what we've got, here and now. Let's make the best of it. Of course, these slogans can only make sense among those raised within the efete mentality of the West, and would undoubtedly prove asinine to the majority of humans on the planet, who generally live, move and have their being in what the West considers abject poverty by its own standards, and often under great duress. To those who presuppose nothing, we'd best not talk of resurrection, because that would demand of us hope, but in spite of every fiber within us that struggles to hope, the spirit of this age -- proclaimed from the rooftops and the sides of London buses with the static of a bullhorn -- intones that all we have to hope for in this life is greater comfort, instant pleasure, and not to be alone. This last hope, of course, can only be proffered by others whose hopes amount to as much vacancy, or less, and who at their very best can only offer themselves after they themselves have been satisfied.

Without resurrection, this life is a vacuum.   

(For more compelling and well-expressed thoughts on this and similar matters, read this.)    

By St. Nikolai Velimirovich

XLI

With fasting I gladden my hope in You, my Lord, Who are to come again.

Fasting hastens my preparation for Your coming, the sole expectation of my days and nights.

Fasting makes my body thinner, so that what remains can more easily shine with the spirit.

While waiting for You, I wish neither to nourish myself with blood nor to take life–so that the animals may sense the joy of my expectation.

But truly, abstaining from food will not save me. Even if I were to eat only the sand from the lake, You would not come to me, unless the fasting penetrated deeper into my soul.

I have come to know through my prayer, that bodily fasting is more a symbol of true fasting, very beneficial for someone who has only just begun to hope in You, and nevertheless very difficult for someone who merely practices it.

Therefore I have brought fasting into my soul to purge her of many impudent fiancés and to prepare her for You like a virgin.

And I have brought fasting into my mind, to expel from it all daydreams about worldly matters and to demolish all the air castles, fabricated from those daydreams. 

I have brought fasting into my mind, so that it might jettison the world and prepare to receive Your Wisdom.

And I have brought fasting into my heart, so that by means of it my heart might quell all passions and worldly selfishness.

I have brought fasting into my heart, so that heavenly peace might ineffably reign over my heart, when Your stormy Spirit encounters it.

I prescribe fasting for my tongue, to break itself of the habit of idle chatter and to speak reservedly only those words that clear the way for You to come.

And I have imposed fasting on my worries so that it may blow them all away before itself like the wind that blows away the mist, lest they stand like dense fog between me and You, and lest they turn my gaze back to the world.

And fasting has brought into my soul tranquility in the face of uncreated and created realms, and humility towards men and creatures. And it has instilled in me courage, the likes of which I never knew when I was armed with every sort of worldly weapon. 

What was my hope before I began to fast except merely another story told by others, which passed from mouth to mouth?

The story told by others about salvation through prayer and fasting became my own.

False fasting accompanies false hope, just as no fasting accompanies hopelessness.

But just as a wheel follows behind a wheel, so true fasting follows true hope.

Help me to fast joyfully and to hope joyously, for You, my Most Joyful Feast, are drawing near to me with Your radiant smile.

The Life of St. Nikolai Velimirovich

Recently while at dinner with friends, someone commented admiringly on my current style of hair. He said I "look like a poet." I was simultaneously flattered and crushed. The tragic irony in what he meant only as a compliment was that -- regardless of how I look -- I am not a poet, and yet how I've longed to be. Over the past year I've written hardly a line I've liked. I'd like to blame it all on the utter misery my current schooling causes me, but truly I think it goes much deeper than this. Yes, school has sapped my strength of spirit, and left me with little to no time to wander as I must to see what I must write in night hollows and the common passer-by. But the current silence from my pen stems from something more existential than academic ennui. Perhaps it is as much medicinal as it is painful.

Photo 23

Stripped from the Second Terrace:

Why is it necessary for nutcases to deny the Holocaust? Is there some benefit (material or psychic) that is realized? Moreover, how is it possible for a denier to become a bishop? I hear today that the Vatican is demanding a complete renunciation of these views (which the media have labeled, of course, "ultraconservative"). I guess if he says the right things and spins around three times and clicks his heels he'll be hunky dory for the mitre. But "renunciation" means "repentance," and "repentance" means (everywhere except fantasy island) never asking, never expecting, never demanding rights, privilege or position. Williamson should be happy to come back into the Church as a layman. Never as clergy. And God forbid, never as a bishop. Is that not the meaning of repentance learned by the Prodigal Son?

    This week something remarkable happened: the inauguration of Barack Obama to the White House. And yes, it was truly remarkable, no matter which of the two parties you belong. I listened to his speech and the following jamboree on the radio, since I was at work and was only able to catch a glimpse of the televisions up front. It was good, great, grood even, and it felt good to finally see this thing realized. What, pray tell, do I mean here by "thing"? Well, in fact, a number of things, not the least of which is the induction of a black man to our highest office; that right there has been a long time coming. But perhaps more mundanely I meant simply the inauguration itself. I couldn't bear another morning of waking up to the pundits going on about how he's almost our new president. It's hard to believe two whole months passed since that whirlwind of an election. In fact, I've been thinking lately of that momentous occasion, and just how fast it all really happened.
    On the night of November 4, 2008, I left church and headed over to my friends' house nearby to say hello. When I got there, they were, of course, avidly watching the start of the election coverage on all the major networks. I told them right off the bat I would not be staying to watch. I was merely coming over to say hello, visit a bit, and would be headed home to wait until the next morning to find out the results of the election.
    “Why wouldn't you want to watch?” they wondered. Indeed, to my friends, as to most Americans that night, my aspirations to avoid the election coverage at all costs must have sounded asinine. This was the most important night of the year – the night we had all been waiting for, which seemed to capture practically every bit of journalistic interest for as long as any of us could remember.
    Of course, a part of me did want to watch – and watch I did, for a while. I, like any informed citizen, had tried my best to keep up with the election coverage so as to guarantee my vote would be knowledgeable, sincere and full of conviction. So naturally I was interested in the outcome. But in my gut, however, I knew that it was curiosity that killed the cat, and my gut was not interested in the imminent ulcer several grueling hours of nail-biting news coverage would surely supply.
    I like to think, however, that it was more than just my tummy's well-being that had me so opposed to the carnival of coverage. I hoped there was also in my delinquency an ingredient civil noncompliance, meaning I could abide by the constraint of ideas and principles over and against my personal gratification and the thrill of television at its most unscripted. There was a feeling I just couldn't shake, which mirrored perhaps the feeling you get when, having slept through a long flight, you wake up in a different country and climate, on a different day, and among foreign-tongued civilians. In other words, this election business was all happening so fast. In my own state of Kentucky, polls had opened that morning at 6 AM and closed about 12 hours later. Next, Americans collectively took a breath and held it.  For five hours the nation sat rapt before the flat screen HD TV, spiking network ratings perhaps not seen since the last hotly contested election four years earlier. Then came the most anticipated exhale of the century. That same night we had a new president, not 6 hours after the polls had closed.
    OK, I admit it. I watched the whole damn thing. But let's face it: if I hadn't how could I bloviate on the matter as I am? Perhaps this time around, my nervousness was overcome by disbelief. I simply could not understand how the networks felt confident enough to call a state for McCain or Obama when only 5% of the state's vote had been counted. More mystifying still, how could they call Washington, Oregon, and California for Obama immediately after their polls closed? It's not that I was dissatisfied with the outcome (I had become an avid Obama recruit), but just how was it that they were able to “project” without fail which way every state and commonwealth in the Union would fall, red or blue, Republican or Democrat, McCain or Obama?
    Not only could I not get a grip on the networks' crystal ball clairvoyance, I refused to believe this divination was ideal. Sure, it was nice to know the outcome, to “just get it over with”, to let all those months of anticipation dissipate in buoyant joy or bitter sorrow. But I wondered what were we forsaking in our capitulation to prime time politics? How is it that we were willing to parse down the most important decision of the year, of the next four years, in fact, to a matter of moments? Poor Obama and McCain: so obliged were they to ready themselves for crowning victory or devastating defeat only hours after they left the campaign trail. Gone were the days when each vote was taken singularly and seriously, when the gravity of a nation's resolve outweighed the “urgency of now.” In those days of yore, eager voters had to wait for weeks before every vote was tallied, and a consensus reached. On November 4th, 2008, we could hardly wait till the polls closed before pronouncing our victor.
    I wondered: Was this democracy? Was this our sacred ritual of freedom? Perhaps instead this was a sort of ruse, a comic diffusion done up and digestible for the attention-deficient American public. Rather than any dignified sign of civil liberty, this looked to me much more like Hollywood donning wig and gavel to feed us the plot line which we'd come to crave. Suddenly it made sense that the the dust would settle so quickly. Could we, as 21st century American citizens, really bear the suspense of an actual tally of votes? I hardly thought so. We're the nation of fast food, TV dinners and instant messaging. We've come to expect a happy ending after a couple of hours. In other words, we demand instant gratification, and our presidential elections are no exception.
    There was something else entirely lost in our mad dash to victory that Tuesday night. So much of the drama of it revolved around the either-or sensibility. The good vs. bad, old vs. young, and experience vs. change narratives the media had written for us (and the candidates stuck by) played perfectly into our preconceived paradigm of contest. The United States democratic process has been locked in a two-party system for decades. Ross Perot made a decent run in 1996 on account of his deep pockets. And on occasion, rogues like Ralph Nader are lambasted for “stealing votes” from the two major candidates. In spite of these anomalies, the essence of our political process has long lain at the feet of two very similar giants. Of course, the general public doesn't see them as all that similar. They can be delineated with labels like “big government” and “fiscal conservative” easily enough. It's not that these names accurately describe the parties they are assigned to. It's just a way for us to keep things simple, to eliminate any shade but black and white. We've got to keep things simple or we might get confused. We like our elections like we like our sports: Two teams, one winner. Ties are a necessary evil. But bringing a third team onto the field – or worse yet, a fourth or fifth – just doesn't fit the bill.
    Hence, the vote for third party is often derided as a “wasted vote,” and often the voter's conscience is overrun by pragmatism simply to avoid the spoiler effect. What's the point of voting for someone who's never going to win? Or so goes the logic. This rationale does not reign supreme, however. In every election you still hear of the bleeding hearts out there who hold out hope for a democratic process bigger than just two parties. The evidence is clear. Ralph Nader and company netted nearly 700,000 votes. Bob Barr of the Libertarians caught nearly half a million, and Charles Baldwin, Ron Paul's pick, about 200,000. These are by no means massive or impressive results. But they demonstrate, at least, that the outcasts had captured some interest – well over a million voters' collectively. Racing across the finish line on election night, prematurely calling Obama's or McCain's name for every state completely cuts these contenders out of the race. Why? Because their race is any less valid than the Democrats and Republicans'? Because they're less American than the front runners? Hardly. Most of it comes down to money, and the rest goes to public disinterest. We can't tolerate the wait – especially if the wait involves a pack of nobodies – and so we rush ahead, call the game before we hop in bed, and let the day end.
    By no means do I wish for my critique here to detract from the “historic nature” of the recent election. I've said already that Obama was my man this year, and I'm glad he won. I wouldn't have minded, though, waiting a few more days for things to actually happen, rather than simply letting the talking heads call it for me well ahead of time. I lament, too, that our system can't bear more competition than the little we're provided between two parties. Civilized democracies – and even some third world governments – around the world enjoy three parties. Several European countries boast five or six parties even. At times these separate groups align to form a more powerful coalition and solidify a win. Other times they'll go it alone, resting on the strength of their distinct platforms. But options like these are the name of the game when more than two parties are possible. Voters can indulge in the privilege of deliberation. We, too, have access to said privilege. We need only move beyond black and white and into the shades of partisan gray. This, however, may forever remain too tall an order for Americans, so long we call our elections like we do the Kentucky Derby.

…”Why do we not voluntarily abandon what must be destroyed when this life comes to an end, so that we might gain the kingdom of Heaven? Let Christians care for nothing that they cannot take away with them. We ought rather to seek after that which will lead us to Heaven; namely wisdom, chastity, justice, virtue, an ever watchful mind, care for the poor, firm faith in Christ, a mind that can control anger, hospitality. Striving after these things, we shall prepare for ourselves a dwelling in the land of the peaceful, as it says in the Gospel.”

St. Athanasius

Today, this day before the birth of our Lord, we should remember to pray for those around this earth who suffer greatly for His Name. American Christians know personally very little of these tribulations, and perhaps none whatsoever, given our high acclaim as Americans first and foremost. I sometimes think Christians in America tend to live in our own little world; we feel snubbed if someone writes a article or shoots a film to poke fun at us; we make our enemies on the various fronts of the "culture war" out to be seven-headed sea beast himself.