Orthodoxy and Simplicity

Anyone who knows me well or has read through the pages of this blog know that I have long struggled with the desire for a slower, simpler life.  There is something about our culture’s desire to do everything at top speed that seems to grate against my inner most being. Perhaps this dissonance comes from my own need to achieve.   I try to be all things to all people, often at the expense of my own needs and desires.  But one can only run about frantically trying to make everyone happy for so long before the hectic pace of life takes its toll.

In the light of the crazy existence I call my life, I find myself drawn to simplicity.  I find myself, at times, standing alone in a quiet dark room, or turning off the radio as I make a late-night journey home.  For it is only after the distractions of modern life have disappeared that I can truly breathe.  The chaos around me has died away and I am left with all that really matters.

It is in this solitude that I feel completely at home, surrounded by the Father’s loving arms.  It is in this silence that I hear the message of love and unconditional acceptance I work so hard to earn.

I have found this same sense of quiet serenity in the context of liturgical worship.  There is something incredibly soothing in the familiar chants and motions of Orthodox worship, particularly  in Divine Liturgy.  In my darkest hours, I would make a point to go to liturgy or vespers because I knew it was here I would fin rest.  There is something sublimely soothing to walk from my frantic life into a dark room with the subtle scent of incense.  Listening to the slow, melodic chants of Orthodox prayers, I quite literally felt a sigh of relief.  Once again, I would  breathe deep and bask in the serenity of the moment.

I am drawn to Orthodoxy because essentially, it is a very simple faith.  In a day and age where everything around me is constantly changing, Orthodoxy remains constant.  It is a faith that has withstood the test of time, not constantly changing in order to suit the whims of an ever changing culture.  While the problems may have changed over the years, the solution has not.  Christ is there, sitting on the throne of grace, calling out to humanity:

“Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Questions: Orthodoxy Vs Protestantism

Perhaps one of the most salient questions I’ve been asked as loved-ones struggle with my decision to “convert” to Orthodoxy was posed in a rather interesting way.

“I just don’t understand the difference between Orthodoxy and Christianity.”

Honestly, my initial reaction: “that’s funny, because neither do I.”  While it may be a smart-alec response for a very serious issue, I think it hits at a the key answer to the question: Orthodoxy IS Christianity.

While it can look like a completely different religion to  many Protestants who are experiencing it (or other forms of liturgical Christianity) for the first time, Orthodoxy has the same basic theology: Jesus Christ, only begotten son of God, born of a Virgin, crucified, buried and resurrected.

I admit that the faith is much more complex than the abbreviated version seen above.  However, I believe it points out the key answer to the question:

Orthodoxy is Christianity.

I have not departed from the religion of my youth.  I have forsaken none of the Truth I have been taught in my childhood by my parents and numerous others.  If anything, I have found my home: a place where my faith has been fleshed out over the course of 2,000 years.

The plunge…

I recently decided to take “the plunge.”  Thus, I am beginning my first week as a catechumen in the Orthodox church.  It’s only taken me 2 years & 3 months to do it, but who’s counting?

Why so long?  Because I am not one to rush into things.  I do things in my own time, at my own pace.  I will not often be rushed, but I do not often wish to wait either.  (insert childhood story here.)  I’m ready when I’m ready and very few will rush or hinder me.

Why  now?  Because it’s time.  Because over the past year I’ve become increasingly aware that I do not wish to leave the Orthodox church (particularly my parish, whom I have grown quite fond of).  Not only do I not wish to leave, but I can’t imagine myself feeling fully at home (theologically) anywhere else.  I kept putting off the decision until I had time to think, time to process, and time to devote to plunging the depths of the Orthodox faith.  But I realized that ultimately, a decision must be made.  A step must be taken.  There is much more to this whole Orthodox thing, but there comes a point where it is hard to go any further without first making a commitment.

However, I realize, perhaps now more than ever how this decision affects and confuses those I love.  To many, Orthodoxy is a complete mystery.  To others, it’s another type of Catholicism.  And to many, it is full of practices that border on idolatry and heresy.  While I do not profess to have the answers to everything, I have decided to take the time over the coming weeks to answer some of the salient questions I have been asked recently.  I realized long ago that I could not make a proper decision about Orthodoxy unless I felt confident that I could explain what I believed to those who love me enough to ask questions.  After 2 years of prayer–individual and corporate, in addition to reading and seeking to understand the Orthodox faith, I am finally at that place.

Over the course of the next few weeks/months, I will attempt to address a few of the questions that have come from those close to me.

on the other side

This evening I went to vespers as has become my custom over the past year or so.  Tonight we prayed an Akathist to Christ, light to those in darkness.  It was an interesting reminder, to be honest.  I remember praying this Akathist for the first time last year about this time.  I was in the midst of depression–looking back on it I can see more clearly how bad it really was, but I knew even then that it wasn’t simply a period of feeling “down” or “blue”…life was dark.  Even on the brightest, most gorgeous fall days, I wandered through life as if it were the middle of a cold and cloudy night.  That night, as I chanted, prayed, and listened to the words of this beautiful prayer, my heart was warmed.  I remember gazing on the icons of Christ and seeing love shining forth from his eyes.  Love and compassion.  Every section, every sentence, every word seemed to resonate deep within me…for I was one of those in darkness.  And I knew it.

This year, I approached with a different vantage point.  Tonight, I approached with people other than myself heavy on my heart.  Chemical imbalance currently in check, and my job suddenly a lot less stressful, I approached as one who currently rests in light, not darkness.  I remembered my first experience, filling my heart with even more light to see how far I have come.

And yet, I was reminded of how quickly things can change.  How although I may not be in the midst of the darkness of last year, I am surrounded by those who struggle; those who need my prayers and encouragement.

Lord, Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on those in darkness.

reflections: heaven, hell, and the need for Christ

Tonight we prayed a memorial service for those killed in the 9/11 tragedies.  Afterwards, Fr. J gave a talk on the Orthodox understanding of death & dying.  Once again, we touched on the “theological opinion” of heaven & hell:  God being all in all, ever present.  His presence running from him like rivers of fire.  To his right are those who have lived their lives in anticipation of living with Him, rejoicing in his presence.  To his left those who have spent their lives running from Him, in agony.  Same presence, same fire, vastly different experiences.  I had this thought last week, and was reminded of it.  If this is true (granted, no one has ever said this is a dogma or a basic tenent of any faith) then…how is Christ’s incarnation, death, and resurrection necessary?

I’ve grown up w/ the understanding that Christ died so that I could say a prayer and be forgiven, and then go to heaven.  Everything makes sense.  Hell is, in that understanding, the absence of God–not the presence of God.  It is easy to see a necessity for Christ as a road by which we must travel if we are to end up in God’s presence–for His presence is in a very limited area.  However, that very idea seems dissonant with the understanding of a God who is everywhere…

The “river” understanding of heaven/hell makes much more sense to me.  However, it raises certain fundamental question that I must now answer.  The first of which is:  Why was the Cross necessary, then, if it were not to pave a road to God’s presence.  In this understanding, it’s all our preparation.  Theoretically, then, would it not be possible to belong to another faith–bhudist, muslim, agnostic, but to live in such a way as to prepare oneself for God’s presence with a similar, if not identical manner, with one who has followed Christianity?

…yes, I know, “Jesus is the way, the truth and the life, no one comes to the Father, except through Him.”  …but…how?

…the rest of my thoughts are scattered.  But within them are ideas of Christ’s work as a redemption of mankind–making it possible for all men to draw near to God, whether or not he understands it is through Christ… but maybe I’m off.