Category Archives: Faith Journey

Who should we allow to influence us? Part 2

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(Read part 1 here.)

Increasingly over the past few years, I’ve been asking myself: what is the point of living a Christian life? What is my purpose?

The Baltimore Catechism answers “Why did God make you?” with these words:

“God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in the next.”

When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, He answered:

“ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the great and foremost commandment. The second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 22:37-40)

I’m also reminded of a quote from St. Gregory of Nyssa:

“We must contemplate the beauty of the Father without ceasing and adorn our own souls accordingly.”

There was a time when I thought my understanding of a certain theological system was so important, so extremely important, that it was perfectly justifiable for me to behave like a rude brat in defending it. The sad truth is that I wasn’t defending a theological system — and certainly not Christianity — as much as I was defending myself and my ideas. My anger and argumentativeness was sin, and it was born out of utter selfishness and pride. It had nothing to do with truth, or with God, and it certainly had nothing to do with love.

I didn’t want anyone to treat me the way I was treating them.

At the time, however, I was drawn to other angry people — at least as long as they agreed with me. Then we would rile each other up and assure each other that we were “standing for truth”, that we were “exposing lies and heresies”, and that we were oh so very righteous.

Of course we didn’t convince anyone but ourselves.

Mahatma Gandhi is reported to have said, “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” He could have been talking about me.

So who do I allow to influence my understanding of Christianity today? It is those Christians whose words and deeds demonstrate to me that they know, love, and serve God. It is those whose love for God and for others is obvious and worth emulating. It is those who “contemplate the beauty of the Father” to such an extent that even I can see the beauty that shines forth from their souls.

Given all my faults and sins, I desperately need people like that in my life — people who are continually being transformed more and more into the image of Christ, people who love well, people who already exemplify what I hope to become.

Anything else isn’t really Christianity.

Who should we allow to influence us?

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When I was competing at karate tournaments, and especially when I became a judge, it got so that I could recognize the intermediate and advanced students of certain instructors, even if I’d never seen that particular student before. It wasn’t just how that student performed techniques, it was how they carried themselves, how they wore their uniforms, how they treated fellow competitors, how respectful they were, how well they adhered to tournament etiquette, etc. The best instructors produced the most recognizable students.

At the same time, I remember one particular black belt competitor who was embarrassingly lacking in both technique and effort, and his students gave almost identical lackluster performances.

We can’t pass on what we ourselves lack.

What some quoted to me as a martial arts saying (“The student, when fully taught’ becomes like his master”) was actually Luke 6:40. “A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone who is perfectly trained will be like his teacher.”

IMG 3994

I’m thankful that my first teacher — my beloved father — who was also my pastor from age 5 to adulthood, was a man of great integrity and humility. He was an excellent student and thus an excellent teacher. His life of virtue was one worth emulating.

So he set the bar really high for other pastors and teachers of things religious and theological. Very high indeed…

I was pondering this, and some of my own weaknesses, sins, and failings, after a conversation I had today with a dear friend. We were discussing my recent retreat and some other things, and several teachers — including a few priests — had come up in our conversation. It struck me later: all of them exemplify virtues that I want to emulate.

I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 11:1, where a Paul wrote, “Imitate me, just as I also imitate Christ.” I am in no way qualified to say that to anyone — sometimes I think much of my life should be viewed as a cautionary tale. How thankful I am to have teachers whose lives and character qualities are worth imitating!

As I was pondering these things again today, I was reminded of a self-appointed public teacher from my past who forever turned me off to his particular theological hobbyhorse, because he was so strident, so lacking in charity, and so argumentative. He was the opposite of a gentleman; in fact, he tended to be quite rude and demeaning to anyone who disagreed with him. Someone described him as a “pompous blowhard”. I had actually been intrigued by some of his theological insights when I first encountered them — at least as those insights were expressed by someone else — but I found it almost painful to listen to the teacher himself, and especially to see how he interacted with others.

Obviously we shouldn’t judge truth by whether the person stating it is a gentleman or a jerk. After all, even the rudest person on the planet might not be entirely wrong about everything they say, and gentlemen can be misguided. Back in the working world, I even learned some valuable life lessons from some unpleasant people.

However, it’s a different situation when it comes to faith and morals. How they live out their belief system, how they exemplify Christian virtue, how they treat others — all that is vitally important. I don’t want to imitate someone’s walk with God if I don’t want to imitate them.

Years ago, I used to get in quite heated debates online, to the point that I would forget that those who disagreed with me were created in the image of God and thus deserving of my respect. Stuff happened… and God brought me to a state of repentance (and to a major theological shift). I remember trying to track down some of the people I’d most offended in order to apologize to them. Most were gracious and forgiving, but one person let me know that I had so deeply wounded her that she would never be able to trust me again.

Ouch. I couldn’t blame her.

Contrast my previous attitudes and behavior with the dear, sweet souls who, over my lifetime, have made their faith so attractive to me. I’m especially reminded of specific people God has sent my way over the past few years who have not only exemplified the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love, but also the cardinal virtues of prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. The fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control) have been obvious in their lives. Because of all that, they are also humble and honest. Those are the sorts of people that I want to listen to, because I want to become more like them. I want to imitate them as they imitate Christ.

(This was adapted from something I previously posted on Facebook.)

Renewal and re-dedication

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The very idea of a fresh start has a way of filling me with anticipation and hope. I tend to get rather unrealistically excited as each New Year celebration approaches, and I’ve had to learn to hide that excitement around most people in my life, especially those who will tend to remind me, “Yeah, you were all excited last year and had all these supposedly wonderful plans, but how many of them did you actually carry out?”

Maybe that’s why I need fresh starts so much — I tend to get off track, don’t stick to things, and need to get back on track, re-orient myself, and re-commit to what is truly important.

I was thinking of this as September 1st was approaching. It’s the beginning of our church year in the Byzantine Catholic Church, so I was using this as a time to re-assess some things in my devotional life, as well as in my life in general. As usual, the process was encouraging and motivating for me.

On Sunday, while I was still filled with the heights of fresh start excitement, there was a baptism during Divine Liturgy. Someone had once told me that baptisms are a wonderful time for us to renew our own baptismal promises, to remind ourselves yet again of what Christ has done for us, and to recommit to following Him. That is so true! As I was driving home, I was reminded of all the many opportunities the Church gives us to renew and refresh, and to re-dedicate our lives to God. I don’t need to wait for New Years, or for a baptism, or for some special event like a retreat or conference.

In our parish, the sacrament of confession is available before every Divine Liturgy, and also by appointment. This gives me ample opportunity to obey, and receive the promise of, James 5:16. “Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed. A prayer of a righteous person, when it is brought about, can accomplish much.”

Every Divine Liturgy, whether I went to confession beforehand or not, is a time for me to repent, to profess my faith, and to receive Christ anew and afresh. It is so powerful… and it’s my own fault if I fail to truly mean the words that I am saying and singing.

Friends of mine begin every day, before they even get out of bed, with some version of a morning offering prayer that includes words like, “I offer You my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day.” I tend to stagger out of bed in a sleepy stupor, but I am without excuse if I don’t dedicate my day to God once I’ve had my morning coffee.

Some of my friends also do an examination of conscience, or examen prayer, every evening before bedtime. I think it’s a wonderful habit… maybe I will manage to make it mine some day.

Our monastic tradition has given us diverse resources to “pray the hours”, following the example of King David: “Seven times a day I praise You because of Your righteous judgments.” (Psalm 119:164). The Liturgy of the Hours revolutionized my prayer life years ago, and various other prayer books have taken their place during various times in my life. But I don’t need to lug one of my prayer books everywhere in order to pause and pray during the day.

A simple way of praying the hours

In fact, as valuable as these resources are, what I really need to do is to remind myself to pray, and to take every time available to re-connect with God. Eventually, maybe I’ll even get to the point where I am “praying without ceasing”.

In the meantime, given life’s many distractions, and my proneness to wander, I am thankful for all those times, seasons, and opportunities for renewal. I am thankful for the reminders to examine myself prayerfully, to repent, to purpose to amend my ways, and to re-dedicate myself to taking up my cross daily so that I may follow Jesus more closely.

Truth, beauty, and goodness

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To say I’m not a philosopher is an understatement. Back in my long ago schooldays, I managed to say something semi-meaningful and thoughtful, which promoted my wonderful teacher to loan me his copy of Will Durant’s Story of Philosophy. He thought I would enjoy it.

I was utterly and completely lost. I did somehow inadvertently fool him once with a coherent comment or two about Plato, but I probably gravely disappointed him after that. I never could finish the book.

Instead, I daydreamed my way through school, wrote angsty poetry in Algebra, got grades accordingly, and only became a serious student in Latin class. I’m still not sure why that subject commanded my attention.

By some weird quirk, I somehow got high SAT scores — maybe because I didn’t take the whole thing seriously enough to get nervous. Then I took some achievement tests, laughed my way through the absurdly easy German one, and was admitted to UCLA on the basis of my test scores alone, ignoring my scandalous grades.

My college career wasn’t any more successful than my junior high and high school careers had been. I finally dropped out after a couple years.

I never took a single philosophy class. But I did hang around Kerckhoff Coffee House with some grad students, discussing “deep things” , and somehow I must have uttered a semi-profundity or two, because they kept me around and even solicited my opinions.

But classically educated I definitely wasn’t.

Fast forward a bunch of years, when I was questioning why cultural relevance was more important than beauty, and why our church at the time should, according to the new pastor, abandon our usual worship space, meet in our fellowship hall instead, and make it look as un-churchy (and hence as devoid of beauty) as possible. Apparently, since I was already approaching 50 years of age, I was woefully out of touch.

Only it wasn’t just my age. In my 20’s I had voiced similar concerns in a different church, about the topic of music, and had jokingly dubbed myself a young fuddy-dud.

Years passed and stuff happened and, in a flash of insight, I told someone, “I’m starved for beauty. It’s as if I’ve been keeping myself on hunger rations.”

I attended a small conference about truth, beauty, and goodness — most of it way over my head because, again, I am no philosopher. I’m not really an artist either, and I haven’t written an angsty poem in years. But I was starved for beauty.

Then my dear daughter-in-law sought refuge with us during COVID, bringing beauty (and my son and granddaughter) with her. She didn’t just pile food haphazardly on a plate; she arranged it artfully. She didn’t just grab a snack and head outdoors; she created a lovely scene that belonged in a painting from long ago. She didn’t just toss on jeans and t-shirts; she dressed herself and her daughter as if clothes actually mattered. It was inspiring.

Gradually I began bringing little bits of beauty back in my life. I began opening my heart wide to even more beauty.

In the meantime — between my young fuddy-dud days and a couple years ago — I had been on quite the spiritual and theological journey, and I’ve got the books to prove it. (Well, not all the books… I’ve gone through three major cullings of my personal library in the past two decades.) In the past year or so, while visiting my daughter, I said something to her priest about truth, beauty, and goodness. He probably thought I was more profound and philosophical than I am, and said something in return about transcendentals… and I had to look it up later.

Turns out cultural relevance is not a transcendental.

You can’t just go where the beauty is, I had told myself sternly. But God kept drawing me with beauty. Also with truth and goodness, to be sure, and He was wooing and pursuing me with love all that time — and it was the beauty that, at least for me, illuminated all the rest.

After my first reading assignment from my priest, when I returned to my next meeting with him, I enthused, “It’s written so beautifully!”

I was discovering Byzantine Catholicism.

Since my priest is classically educated and didn’t daydream his way through most of his education, he tried to explain something about the role of beauty in revealing the nature of God, drawing us to Him, and glorifying Him in worship.

In a culture that assaults my sensitive nature with so much ugliness — not just the ugliness of its sin but its architecture, art, home decor, music, entertainment, and ideas — God has drawn me into beauty. Every Sunday I experience a beautiful, glorious foretaste of Heaven as we step outside of time, and worship God in spirit and in truth.

Every Divine Liturgy, I taste and see that God is good, that He is really and powerfully more than I could ever hope, and that He is all that is true, beautiful, and good.

Faith Journey | Daddy, my greatest influence

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Today, the 15th of June in 2023, marks the second anniversary of my father’s death. While clearing things out of his desk some months ago, I ran across something I’d written back in 1986, as part of a Fathers Day tribute in light of Psalm 1. [Comments in brackets were not in the original.]

Blessed is the person who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,
Nor stand in the path of sinners,
Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
2 But his delight is in the Law of the Lord,
And on His Law he meditates day and night.
3 He will be like a tree planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season,
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers.

4 The wicked are not so,
But they are like chaff which the wind blows away.
5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
6 For the Lord knows the way of the righteous,
But the way of the wicked will perish.

My very earliest memories of my father: either he was not home, or my mother was whispering, “sssshh, he’s studying” or “sssshh, he’s sleeping”. [Note: he was a seminary student at the time.] Despite being so busy and tired, he still tucked us into bed every night, read us Bible stories, and prayed with us.

Later, the pastorate placed high demands on our family. He had been taught that the family was to come last, after God and church. There were pressures on him as a pastor, and on us as a family. Daddy had to miss many of my activities, like concerts on Wednesday nights, etc. [In my early adulthood, my father asked me forgiveness for this, and told me that he deeply regretted not prioritizing us.]

What Daddy did give me is even more precious than time. He taught me the law of the Lord, and he showed me by his example what it means to delight in it. Ever since I can remember, Daddy has arisen at an extremely early hour to spend time in prayer and meditation on the Word. Having a father who starts out every day like that is a rich blessing — having our own resident Bible Answer Man was like icing on the cake.

Daddy does more than just start the day with Bible reading; he carries the Law with him throughout the day. Children see their fathers in every possible light. I have seen my father tired, hurt, disappointed, frustrated, angry — I have even seen him near death — but I have never seen him violate or compromise his strong beliefs.

Whether they want to be or not, fathers are teachers. Daddy is a good one. There are many important lessons he has taught me, but the most important one, the lesson that matters throughout eternity, is who Jesus is. How can I help but love the man who introduced me to Jesus?

Daddy has always worked so hard, many times too hard. Yet he took time to make me feel special and pretty and important. He disciplined me with love. He gave me lots of hugs and kisses, and wiped away many tears. [And he mopped up my vomit… bandaged up literal wounds… and straightened my nose after I broke it.] He loves my mother deeply, and treats her with the utmost kindness. He has never ceased praying for me. He has always been terrific in a crisis, responding in the best possible way. His sermons are still my favorite.

I’m proud and very blessed to be the daughter of a man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stand in the path of sinners, nor sit in the seat of scoffers, but instead delights in the law of the Lord.