East of Byzantium

It’s a great lie, and like all great lies it is hidden within some truth.

The universe is huge, and that’s true enough. We, by comparison are very, very, small, tiny, and who could deny that? Lulled by these self-evident truisms we are lead, innocent, into the lie itself: if the universe is so enormous, if we are so small and on this earth for such a short time, what we do has no bearing whatsoever in the “great scheme of things”. It’s nothing but a lie, and a huge deception.

Every action, every word we utter, leaves an indelible mark upon the universe. A man’s words leave his mouth and hang in the air for just a short time. Yet it cannot be said that those words cease to exist once the air stops resonating with their weight. The words can be remembered by those who hear them, retained and passed on, or even distorted completely. But still those words were given to the world by the man and remain there forever. Even if no one hears the man, his words are heard by himself, his thoughts have been given life. Even if both listener and speaker forget those words, they will have had their effect for a short time, and the consequences of them could be felt forever, the source forgotten. But what if the words are erased from the collective consciousness of humanity, having not moved a single person? Does that not mean the words were never said? Looking back upon the history of the entire universe, would those words of utterance – or even just one word – never be found? Of course they would still be there. We are not infants anymore. If we put our hands over our eyes the world doesn’t really disappear. If we forget our words, if everyone forgets our words, they still exist in the universe.

And this is only someone’s words I am speaking of. What then, of our actions? How must the universe contort itself to accommodate the consequences of our deeds? On the afternoon of the 25th of December, 1999, I placed flowers on the grave of my departed grandfather, just as my family did every Christmas day. Those flowers are long gone, returned to the earth to bring forth new flowers, or weeds. My grandfather’s grave still remains and so do I. But the time will come when I will stop placing flowers on my grandfather’s grave, and perhaps the time when my own children or grandchildren place flowers on my own. Will my grandfather’s grave be forgotten? In time, it will, as will mine. In hundreds of years my grave will be left untended, if the gravestone even remains. In thousands of year’s time my grandfather’s grave will no longer remain, and his body will be by this time a million pieces of everything else. In millions of year’s time the sun will finally have grown so huge that it will have engulfed the earth within its diameter. With the earth incinerated within a star that is itself dieing what then is the point of anything? It is this: that on the 25th of December, 1999, I placed flowers upon the grave of Gerald Hendry (1943 – 1992). It has happened. It will have always happened. And each and every one of us has left millions of such impressions upon the universe, forever.

Everything we do is an eternal act.

Continued later…

As the night bus weaved itself amongst the high-rises and flyovers, the heavens shook with thunder and lightning streaked across the skies. All was obscured by the concrete and steel around us, though the rain fell on all. The neon flickered, but it was the lightning flash that lit all in its weird blue. Threading itself between apartment blocks, the bus seemed to be playing a game of hide-and-seek upon the slippery roads. The power and aggression of the thunderstorm was seen, yet that power was not for our benefit, merely for our entertainment. With cow-stares, all of us packed onto the bus looked to the skies and thought how this was almost as good as the thunderstorms seen on TV. The bus was weaving between the footsteps of a giant, yet he wasn’t interested in us and so no danger was there. As the titan strode purposely on, unaware of the insignificance beneath him, the bus danced along with him, always just out of sight.

Then the bus turned onto the road before the huge courtyard of the PLA’s Musical Academy. I was suddenly confronted with the largest patch of uninterrupted sky that I had found in Beijing. Bereft of man-made intrusions, the sky was for a brief moment laid before me shattered and alight with thunderbolts. With a large mural and low set Stalinesque buildings upon the horizon I could get but a hint. Cocooned within a bus that didn’t even slow, I caught but a glimpse. Yet for a small instance I got a taste of a time past. A time when huddled into the cracks of the landscape, the people built their squat homes where they could; a time when the skies rained down manna, or destruction; a time when God, with violence, split the sky in two before His people. The titan suddenly brought the force of his gaze upon what was below him. For just that briefest of moments, God’s countenance was on me. I felt the fear of the past. Not fear born of ignorance, but the fear born of knowledge; the full knowledge of God’s energy. Call me a superstitious fool, but this was the wrath of God. At least, this was the power of God. A thunderstorm, yes, but why separate the two as though they are unrelated? Who is seeing clearly? The man who looks at the sky through the gauze of modernity – lights, comfort, the haze of pollution, all in a pretty metropolitan frame – hiding beneath an umbrella? Or is it the man eating honey and locusts in the wilderness, looking at a cold, dark, empty sky suddenly become alive and throw down water upon the earth. Strip away all those petty distractions that keep our eyes down and the contempt for the past would be ripped from us too. Awesome power is precisely that. Lord have mercy.

But it was gone too quickly, though perhaps that was a mercy to me. The rolling cityscape never missed a beat and we were all swallowed up in concrete again. Mobile phones rang, the bus’s plasma screen gave tomorrow’s weather, eyes and ears were pulled gently from the rage of the storm. Forget all that, you’ll be home soon. Watch this instead. Empty skies are forecast tomorrow. My own phone shuddered in my pocket and checking new messages I too was brought back under the city.

Praise the Lord that I was given the sight of what our fathers saw of God’s power. Then we knew we were but mere sojourners upon the Lord’s earth. Unable to hide from God’s wrath, instead the reminder of human life’s frailty was above, below, behind and before us. The fear was there, the respect for God’s powerful love, but with it came the longing for rebellion. As is taught, God shakes the earth to teach His children like the mother rocks the crib to quiet the infant (St. John Chrysostom). It shouldn’t be any wonder then that as soon as they were able, as soon as they saw the opportunity, our fathers fled from God – from the power they hated; from the protection they needed. Once, they were exposed to God’s power and knew, but then things changed.

Then the kings of the earth and the great ones, and the generals and the rich, and with them everyone, slave and free, hid themselves in the caves and threw up the rocks of the mountains.
“Hide us from the face of Him who is seated on the throne and from His wrath…for we fear the great Day of Judgment when none will stand.”

They did a good job in hiding amongst rocks and caves. But this city still cowers beneath Heaven. God still shakes this city with earthly tremors. He still cracks open the sky with violent thunderstorms. Here we are, pretending none of this happens; pretending the Gobi isn’t coming to engulf us; pretending that we’re not poisoning ourselves with car fumes. Can no one see the mercy of each new day? Can I? Are we buried beneath the rocks, the wires, and the mountains of food so deeply?

How then can we ever hope to ascend?

“O Heavenly Father I ask that you will remind us all that we are but sojourners on this earth. Reveal to we cosseted and anesthetized sinners our wretchedness so that we can escape the snares of the world and come to the joy of sorrowful repentance. Strip away the impurities of our lives by the violence of Your love for us. Destroy what is worthless by earthquake, hurricane or flood, so that the true blessings of You are all that remain. In those, may we bless You all the days granted to us. Be this Your will, be it done to us; and through the prayers of the Holy Theotokos and all the saints give us the strength to endure.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen”

The early church of Galatia
The Essenes of the early centuries
Laocedia during the 4th century

Novgorod in the 15th century, and later in the 19th century
China today?

Meeting with a recently baptized friend yesterday, we were looking over a Chinese Bible when I came accross a word I wasn’t sure of. My friend could not translate the word directly but explained that it was the festival celebrating the parting of the Red Sea by Moses (K’riat Yam Suf), i.e. part of the Passover celebrations

She then went on to tell me excitedly how once a year, her friends (a group of Chinese Christians that she knows) celebrate this festival by going out into the suburbs of Beijing and crossing a river there that has a small dam. Hence they cross the river, water at either side, and recreate the flight of the Hebrews from Egypt

They then, on the other side, have a special meal of “manna” (specially made sweet foods) to remember the deliverance of the Israelites by the hand of God

I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about this. I must say that the girl was was revealed God’s grace and so came to the Christian faith through this group of people, so I surely cannot say anything bad about the fruits of their faith. She was drawn to them, and then God, through their kindness. All the glory to God for this.

And yet…

I have met many Christians in this city, from countries all over the world, who pray to “Father God”, who do not celebrate Pentecost, the Ascension (or sometimes even know what they are), and in short worship differently to me in almost every way, from practice to language used. Again I will say, for my own benefit, that I should be measuring the fruits. Does it matter that these people never seem to pray directly to Christ, or the Holy Spirit, and only ever ask the Father “in your Son Jesus Christ’s name” as long as they show love?

I don’t know, except that while a few Chinese people may enjoy celebrating as the Jews do, most certainly do not. They see no need for Chinese people to follow a foreign religion, with foreign customs, based on the history of a foreign people. Christ is for all, and the Christian religion is for all. Whatever name you call them, the Christian festivals are universal and for all, because the events they celebrate are eternal.

At the Passover God delivered the Jews, at Easter God saved all mankind. I know which event needs to be remembered more.

"But the Comforter the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send in My Name, He shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said to you" (John 14:26)

 

 

What practical meaning do these words have, if not that it is necessary that we pray daily that the Holy Spirit be sent to us just as we pray every day for our daily bread? God is willing to send us the Holy Spirit every day but He seeks that we pray daily for the Holy Spirit. For as, in regard to bread which is, at one time abundant and at another time scarce, so it is also in regard to the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit comes to us and departs from us, according to our zealousness and our slothfulness in prayer, according to our good deeds and our patience. That is the reason why the Church established that morning services begin with an invocation of the Holy Spirit: "O Heavenly King, the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, Come!", and after that comes the prayer: "give us our daily bread!" Why? Because, without the Holy Spirit, we do not even know how to use bread as it should be used for our salvation.

"He shall teach you all things." That is: every day and every night, according to the conditions and circumstances in which you will find yourself in, He will direct you, counsel you, teach you what you should think, what you should say and what you should do. For that reason, implore from God only the Holy Spirit and all else He Himself will bring with Him all that you will need at that particular moment. When the Holy Spirit shall descend upon you, you will know all, understand all and you will be capable of all that is necessary.

"And bring all things to your remembrance whatsoever I have said to you." That is: do not be afraid that you will forget my teaching and my words. The Holy Spirit also knows all that I know so when He will be present in you all My teaching will be present in you, together with Him.

O Lord, Holy Spirit deign to descend upon us not according to our merits but according to the merits of the Lord Jesus and according to Your infinite goodness.

 

- St Nikolai Velimirovich, Bishop of Zica, Serbia (+1956)

 

Seen on a rush-hour bus recently: young man, mid-20’s, curled up on a seat with head against window, plugged into his i-pod, notebook on lap, carefully and patiently practicing his own signature. As I stood there and watched this man, in deep concentration (a tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth may be an apocryphal memory), adding flourishes to his own name and oblivious to the life around him, an overwhelming feeling struck me:

That there could be no one scene more definitive of the individualistic, selfish, all-pervasive navel-gazing that plagues our society today. 

‘Really,’ I thought, ‘Could there be anything more depressingly solipsistic?’

And then I thought, ‘Yes there could: someone could write about it in their own self-important blog.’

So here we are.

Lord have mercy!

 

In yesterday’s post, I spoke of the way the Chinese faithful are prevented from partaking in the Eucharist. Those who realize its importance at least can try to find ways to attend the Divine Liturgy, yet many more people - and now I don’t just speak of non-Christians, or the newly converted - are not even aware of the importance taking Holy Communion.

There is a kind of denial that goes on amongst many professing Christians regarding the Incarnation - the coming of God in flesh, as the Messiah Jesus. Of course they will say that Christ is God, and will give up their life to defend this fundamental Truth, but still the reality of this sits uncomfortably with them. This is why they will deny that the bread and wine used in Holy Communion actually becomes the flesh and blood Christ and defiantly proclaim that the Eucharist is merely a spiritual or, even worse, a symbolic ritual done in rememberance of the Last Supper.

Because of this belief, there is often incomprehension at how Christians can claim to eat the flesh of Christ at every single Liturgy performed, anywhere in the world, at any time.

It is not the case that we eat the flesh of Jesus of Nazareth who walked the earth 2000 years ago. It is the case that Jesus is God and that the living flesh of the Christ is eaten at every Liturgy that was, is, and ever shall be. If Christ were just a man, then eating his flesh would indeed be a ridiculous notion, and on top of that repulsive. But He is God- this is what the Incarnation is! We should not be scandalized by it, for unless we eat the Son of God’s flesh and drink His blood there is no life in us.

My thoughts return to my most recent Communion, the Easter "Midnight Mass" on Holy Saturday.

When Christ was laying in the tomb, was not He also with the Father? He certainly was, and more than that, He was in Hades too breaking chains and freeing souls. In Heaven with the Father, on earth in the tomb, and in Hell destroying Satan’s hold over us - this is the truth of the Incarnation!

Why reject it, I cannot say. For the majesty of God to become flesh - not contain Himself within flesh, but become flesh and bone - is scandalous I suppose. God should be remote, not living and breathing with us, not dieing in agony for us. Or else He should be within us spiritually, not physically; we don’t want to see the flesh of God on that golden spoon, red with His blood, as it is offered, as He Himself offers it to us. We don’t want to chew upon the Christ’s manna and feel His flesh slide down our throats. The Holy Spirit invisibly within us is discomforting enough, without the flesh of Christ too. That is what scandalizes people, the scandal of the Incarnation.

But He did die for us - today He is Risen! - and His flesh and blood, that which is sacrificed for us, brings life.