Consistency

“Oh what’s this guy doing? Again? Now?”

Whether its snowing, raining, or the temperature is sub-freezing he’s out there every morning. He and many like him are so common that they sometime “become part of the scenery.” I find that I notice him more when the weather is terrible and I’m in my car shivering. Bothered by the weather, frenzied by the list of tasks to complete before the day’s end, and confused by the seemingly contradictory action of running in “terrible weather,” I drive by hoping my tires splash water on him because he’s doing what I can’t.

Ok, so maybe I’m not that dramatic about the whole situation but it needs to be said that this runner has something that a lot of us don’t: consistency. Over time he’s developed and cemented this routine into his life. Regardless of the weather, regardless of what he “needs” to do on that day, and regardless of what may be going on in his life, you know that at 8:27 in the morning you can catch him rounding the corner on your way to school or work. Granted he may enjoy running but there are undoubtedly days where he wakes up and running with an injured leg in the cold weather, knowing that I’m out to splash him with my car, is not high on his list of “likable activates.” So why do it?

The answer lies hidden within a fact about the human psyche. The day this runner gives into his laziness, the stresses of life, or the weather he will then repeatedly allow his mind to fool him into skipping more “run-impairing-days.” But if today, when there is ice cold rain falling, he has plantar fasciitis in both heels, and he has a crucial meeting at work, he does actually manage to overcome his very rational excuses to “just skip today,” he will forever be able to overcome any obstacle the stands in direct contradiction to his routine.

And our spiritual lives are no different. In the Lent we need to spend time both creating new routines and solidifying weak ones. We should tell ourselves “No! I don't care how late it is, how much I have to do tomorrow morning, or how tired I am. I decided I’m going to do … and I’m going to do it.” Conversely, the first time we fall into a particular or new sin (in the Lent, but more likely at any point in our growth) it is catastrophic because it was often something that we never expected to happen. The horror is that we then become even more susceptible to falling into the same mistake a second or even third time! We become increasingly more desensitized to our own failure every time we fall. “No. I don't care how tempted I am by this sin, how ‘different’ this situation is from the ‘other’ times, or how undetectable this action will be. I decided I wouldn’t … and I’m not going to do it.” The goal when it comes to confronting sin in Lent is to return us to our original, or even “baptismal,” state.

But on the day where we forgo the routine, we are chopping at a sapling. When a seed is planted it takes a lot of time and “nurturing” before it sprouts and shows “life.” If during this crucial and equally sensitive time you take just one swing at it with an axe you could permanently eradicate the young tree. You then need to exude more effort replanting the same “seed” and again wait for it to take root. Too often in our spiritual lives we do this; before we allow our daily practices to become—daily practices, we let ourselves slip. Over time, a young sapling, the routine, will indeed grow thicker and stronger and spread its branches and roots into different dimension of our lives. If I can expand the analogy even further: over time the same tree may even “bear fruit;” fruit that will sustain us during trying times and fruit that others can tastes of for their own.

What’s the best way to do this? First: Don’t think long term. Think: “Today. Today I will accomplish...” and let tomorrow “worry about itself.” If you do what needs to be done today, then tomorrow will be the same. Second: Do it even if you don't feel it. So often I’ve let myself escape nightly prayer because I know I’ve misused the day, fallen into sin, or am just “too tired” and have no emotion towards God. Doesn't matter. Stand up and pray anyway. Sprinkling drops of water onto the seed is better than leaving it dry. Granted, tomorrow I may need to correct whatever made me feel this way but habit building is as much about repetition as it is about the practice itself. Third: Don't look for results so soon. This is one of the more difficult obstacles to overcome. There is no reason to treat a seed like a full grown tree and equally a young tree may not have ripe fruit. It takes a lot of time and conscious effort to build fruitful habits and we should not cease trying simply because we don't immediately feel or notice their effects.

A Moment, in Preparation of:

There has always seemed to be a separation between God and I. For some reason when I stand to pray I can formulate words in my mind, or even as far as my heart, but often times I am still missing the listener. Aside from the division between my words and God’s ear, there seems to be a gaping difference between my prayers and the way I live my life: my words strongly contradict my daily actions and my daily actions are not a projection of one who prays. There seems to be this veil that I have cast in front of God that I often peak through when I feel holy but lock in place when I don’t want God to find me. This curtain makes me feel safe and allows me to conceal my fears and faults from an all-knowing, all-powerful, all-helpful Father. But is that it? Is that all my life is called to be; a “spiritual” life entrenching within a secular existence separated by an insurmountable curtain?

In the Gospels, the immediate moment that follows Jesus’s death, the writers include a seemingly “misplaced” verse. Luke says: “and the veil of the temple was torn in two” (Luke 23:46). What is the correlation between the veil of the temple and the death of our Protagonist that the writers would use such a highly vulnerable point in the reader’s attention to include such a foreign idea? Wouldn’t those few lines following Jesus’s death be better suited for words about His unquenchable Love or Shepparding care for humanity?

In the Old Testament Moses or the high priest of the time were called to be intermediates between God and man; the bridge that allowed the people to communicate to their God was another mere human. This mediator was the only person allowed past the veil that was hung in the temple. Yet what laid behind the barrier was the answer to Augustine’s concept of human “restlessness.” Behind the veil was the symbol of heaven and where “The Lord spoke to Moses as a man speaks to a friend” (Ex. 33:11). We were not granted to speak to God.

But after the crucifixion and the tearing of the veil St. Paul said in Timothy 2:5: “There is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus.” This concept of someone connected me and God has been completely abolished with the crucifixion because “the veil of the temple was torn in two.”

Now, allowed to reunite with God without a separation or intermediary, where in the temple do I choose to stand?

Yet as systematic as all of this sounds, the core issue has still not changed. I still have this curtain between God and I but this time it was not God who put it up in His tabernacle, it was me. I insist on dividing myself from a Father. I insist on making myself an orphan in this temporal world. I insist on turning my back on the God “who gave His only begotten Son, that whomever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.”

The veil is none other than MY sin; my personal sin. The sin that I hold onto and will not let go of; not even for God. And for some of us we know what that sin is and intentionally overlook it and insist on asking God why He chooses not to listen to our prayers. And still for others, we have not spent time “in the Light” to see where our filth lies.

Nothing speaks stronger to the potential of the relationship that we can have with God like the model set forth by Moses. Speaking to God as a friend is a simple formula that we (me above most people) complicate. If this all too short time that we spend away from the world in Lent is to be beneficial, we must focus on exposing ourselves before the merciFUL God. Spending time quietly and alone away from the daily routines of life is a vital method by which we can spend moments with God and examine the direction of our individual lives.

If I may, I would ask to leave you with this idea: this retreat away from the other 310 days of the year will be only as effective as the effort we are willing to put into it. If I take it upon myself to wake up early and sit with God before the world is ready to swallow me up with its “needs” and if I can silently pray in the midst of the day remember my Goal then to me, my Friend speaks and says: “I love those who love me, and those who seek Me find Me” (Prov 8:17). Keep in mind: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me” (Rev 3:20)…am I waiting on the other side? Or am I not even home yet? If so, maybe next year’s lent will be better…

Irene and the “Leaks”

If you were lucky enough to have flooding in your home, if you were fortunate enough to lose power, or if you were privileged enough to be locked in your house: then Irene did you a service. She came and moved through quickly, leaving before we could fully reach out and touch her cloak. On a day publicized as horrific and presumably tragedy filled, the potential for goodness was expressed through a forgotten vehicle: family. The streets were flooded so no one was going anywhere. Many lost power so there was no Internet or TV and at some point or another your unlimited texting plan was going to be cut short by your phone’s transient battery life. The only source of entertainment was crawling back into the crib you came from and re-meeting the people who were both proximally and socially closest to you.

Yes, in the middle of the torrential down pour the sun was trying to shine through. Once we all realized that there was no way to stop the rain from leaking in from here or from there, it was only a matter of time before the negativity allowed itself to be replaced by “fun.” But this was far from the denoted understanding of the word “fun” we’re used to; this was “un-fabricated” fun or better put: real fun. There was nothing fake about it nor was their any effort needed. There was no planning necessary or dress code required. There was no need to watch what you said or how you said it and all of this because there was no one around to judge. We were home, finally. Not the home we use as a hotel or bank but the home that shelters us from the daily hurricanes we encounter. Yes, they were all a little leaky, both literally in and in this case figuratively, but what “home” doesn’t need a little work.

Of course there was conflict and maybe even tension early on but as the day went by, Irene’s lock on the doors managed to wash much of that away. As fixing leaks turned into family “activities” personalities became puzzle pieces. At first there was difficulty working together. For individual and self-reliant people like us following a chain of command based on age and respect was challenging but paying a little bit of attention to all the moving parts proved key. If you focused enough, you could watch Irene at work...

She was so severe and so powerful that eventually our parents were bound to figure out that regardless of how many buckets of water they filled, they would never empty the basement. And before you knew it, once they arrived at this conclusion, all the attention shifted. They began looking for ways to please -- us. Food, drink, conversation; whatever it took they were willing to do. If you were paying attention you could see the sheer joy in the face of each parent that their children were all around them; not just the young but also those who maybe away at school or usually out with friends. This heightened attention shown to the youth of house inadvertently gave us the power to control the “spirit” in the home. From the other end of the chain of command (which we now controlled) were our younger siblings who were looking to us to provide them with a form of entertainment not controlled by a remote and not always accessible. We’ve always managed to remove or distance ourselves from theses relationships and responsibilities, sometimes intentionally but equally through ignorance, yet now we had nowhere to go. We were not by any means forced to entertain the family but we didn’t know what else to do with all the power but radiate it. Once we accepted this role, that if I was willing to join in on an activity, lead a discussion, or be the prime audience of a conversation, then the “rain” seemingly stopped coming through the “roof” of our “home.”

Time now passed with different feeling. Mundane activities became extravagant projects with the burden falling on Irene: so long as she put forward the effort to keep us together, we could all find our way deeper and deeper back into the security of our un-fabricated safety. The conversation now flowed like the rivers in the street and carried with it a heightened level of enjoyment. Our parents’ stories leaked into out hearts like the rain though the roofs. Our fathers’ poor jokes were more amusing than television while disputes about whether the cereal comes before the milk (or visa versa depending on your stance) became as important as the developing weather reports. The multiple family meals were not only shared by the family but also prepared by the same team. We even managed to “enjoy” the weather by deeming it appropriate to BBQ in the middle of the hurricane. The family joined in on card games, bored games, and even indoor sporting events. All the while, if you were to step back and observe, you would see people, enjoying nothing but each other.

In all honesty I don’t hesitate to say that if you’ve missed the opportunity then I am sorry for your loss because the chances are limited and the experiences rare. Granted it would be arrogant and unfair for me to say that it would be easy to “repair any and all leaks” within the family but you also would misspeak to say that it would be better to “let the house flood.”

I thank you Irene for flooding my basement. I wish you would have taken the power too.

… Letter to Irene

Dear Irene,

Today was a great experience even though there was a big hurricane it brought us together. We did so much even though we were stuck at home all day. Fun is not only going out with friends or shopping it is about spending time with family. We played soccer, went outside a little, played lots of games, and had a lot of FOOD!!!

I had a great time. Thank you Irene.

Signed, Daniella

The untold story of a man forgotten

Scoundrel and saint, poised and charmer, romantic and affirmative, unconditional and reserved, rich and poor, loved and hated, traditional and revolutionary, familial and societal, perceptive and soft spoken, prideful and humble. A man who stands alone in a forgotten era that ushered our own. A man who spread the values and mindset of the inner-family to the furthest stretch of the world. A man whose place serves a forgotten purpose in our time.
Like any saint, he was the son of a wealthy plantation owner in upper Egypt and like any son, he rebelled against his father and insisted on a life of his own rather than the customary succession on wealth. Leaving his home town and well suited life, he traveled to Cairo to study economics. But this man wasn’t just studying trade or the development of financial systems; this man studied the economy of life and respect, relationship and dealings, and the difference between success and failure.
You see his era was unrelated to our own. It consisted of a small social community, even in a big city. It was a time when the man could live his life until he was forty before he was wed; and when he did marry, he would marry a women whose beauty would be rivaled only by the sculptures of the ancients. The world was smaller and life simpler. One’s only concern was eighty years of labor and family life in which he upheld his moral practices and did his best to pass on whatever he could to those whom he raised and supported. It transcended the age of chivalry and precluded the modern era of the stigma of wealth: it was the age of real men. A generation where the world grew from farmhouses and street corners to big buildings and international relations.
This was a man who lived the roaring twenties from his birth to his death. Born in 1918 and glorified in 2008, Shohdi Azer took his small existence and silently etched his name into his country and church’s development. Each story carries with it and underlying spirit of awe at the greatness of a man whose personality and motive stemmed from something that would be lost on our own world. He influenced church officials and sat with the first man on the moon in his home , and yet spoke not a word of himself. His birthright was stripped by his younger siblings, he was head of the stock exchange for several successive years, and he funded the building of a church and foster house in the midst of a Muslim land ,and he did it all with pride and dignity. He waited for Cyril VI to come and apologize to him, he wouldn't speak to clergy if they insisted on wearing their head covers in his presence, and he turned down the church’s highest laymen court in the land, and he did it with love and respect. He made his pilgrimage to the the Holy Land, befriended the Ethiopian monk, and attended the Coptic Seminary, and he did it all by a motivation unknown to us today.
Most men die with and leave an unfinished book with either blank pages or a series of failed introductions but when my grandfather passed, and elderly Alzheimer stricken man, he closed his own book and put in on a shelf. But this book and this shelf are not located only in the heart of his family but in the mind of anyone who studies the art of success. He accomplished everything that the great kings of the past did except his empire is yet to fall. Alexander the Great took what his father had and expanded it beyond the reach of any ruler before him, but he did it with a firm hand. My grandfather did the same to his small community but buttressed his achievements with love. He treated the world as if they were his own family. He housed the condemned, he aided those who had no helper, and he gave himself as any father would to his children. My father once said “People like that will never again be repeated.”
But who would bother to read his book today? After all, he has no place in our time. What role would this man who treated the world like his own family have in today’s vast world? Nothing really, he created it and left it for his children to rule over it.

Life Lesson

A casual day of relaxation while at the shore was rudely interrupted by the nagging motivation to go bike riding. Understandably, no one shared my regrettable desire except my uncle, who had run 3 miles earlier in the day before going to liturgy, and my soon to be eight year old sister. So as we got the machinery ready I noticed that Daniella (my kindred) had training wheels on her bike that were somehow half on and at the same time half off. They were bent in a strange alignment that allowed her to balance on two wheels if she was able to ride it steadily enough or on three wheels (instead of the expected four wheel stability that training wheels usually provide) if she leaned to either her left of right. So as we started off, I noticed myself unable to focus on my own peddling and was horrified at the sight of this seemingly fragile doll that was teeter-tottering to her left and right, taking my heart along for the ride. Frustrated by my concern for her, I quickly came to the decision that I wasn't going to be able to continue so long as she taunted me with her lack of balance. Contrasting my emotional "roller-coaster," my uncle who has raised two +20 year old kids, one of who undoubted drives his unnecessarily fast car in an equally unnecessary manor, seemed all but worried as he stared the 7 year old monster in the face; he'd been here already. He confidently put his bike down and started to push her! "The faster you go the easier it will be to balance" he said in his calmest of voices. He was motivating her confidence to get her through what I couldn't even bear. I was in genuine disbelief at what was happening: my sister, who I've been waiting for to get older for particularly this reason, so I can share simple things that I've mastered that appear like giant feats to her (like coloring inside the lines and presumably bike riding), was looking for guidance, and I came up empty handed. I wasn't so much disappointing in myself as I was ashamed of how many times I'd sped off with my car or the arrogance I had in myself as I packed up and went away to live on my own in a college dorm and all the while couldn't understand: "The faster you go the easier it will be to balance."
It takes confidence to allow or even push the people you care about into harms way, even though its something you've done with all confidence in the past. Every time I was out late with my car or neglected to call home from school, all the while my parents had been riding next to me holding their tongues, not out of panic or worry for me, but somehow...out of love. Its hard to imagine that if I was put in the situation again that I would react any different then I did today. I often question my maturity level and feel that I am at the peak of my maturity yet immediately reprimand myself with a simple notion of: nobody who is mature or wise actually deems themselves mature. As many times as I've been on the opposite end of the scenarios or seen the same episode played out on tv, its not tangible or even remotely understandable until its my sister on the bike and I can lovingly match her level of courage and push her along.

Fast River

How can I stop a flowing river whose current pushes me along? How can I use my strength to stop the water from going over the falls and wreaking havoc beneath the surface? And how can I, without first strengthening myself and taking root beneath the transient silt into the deep rock bed? And even still, I am in need of a branch, one of infinite strength, one I can trust to not break when the rains begin to fall and the water pushes harder against my frail limbs. And yet still, how can I try and stop the river. I cant; all I can do is try and stop those caught in its flow. And together we grab hold of one another digging deeper into what we know to be safe grabbing onto whomever we can however we can. Unless of course, they're just going along for the ride.
"We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed— perplexed, but not in despair; " (2 Cor4:8-9)
"For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory" (2 Cor4:17)

Edification

I briefly stepped out of my comfort zone this past week and asked someone who I don't have a close relationship with, to grab coffee with me. I was so over whelmed with the frequency and over exposure of the people around me that I was almost forced to seek a different sort of expression or personality. I knew one of the youth from a near by church (and from a different school) was on campus visiting some of the girls, who were currently in class, and as I was heading towards the exit of the school she caught my eye. Now I'm not one for spending time with girls who I don't know extremely well but at the moment, I needed to break out of my routine social atmosphere and felt that there may be potential for a more than superficial conversation with this person. As we drove to the corner Starbucks, to her surprise, I wasn't the person that she had perceived me to be and the the twenty minutes discussion far exceeded either one of our expectations of the other's ability to think and speak. Later in the week, we were again gathered together, but this time in a group of people who couldn't seem to move past surface level conversation. Recognizing the futility of the atmosphere, she singled me out by saying: "lets continue our conversation of the other day." Let me emphasize something very important: we never actually sat for coffee; she only accompanied me as I drove and picked up the coffee, so there is no essence of romance from either side.
We both sat and tried returning to what we had previously discussed and came to the conclusion that the interest in the previous discussion was not in the topic of the discussion, but rather in the "difficulty" of the discussion. It was evident that the momentary connection that we had taken notice of a few days prior was not a connection over a single topic but rather a connection over a desire for more. At that point, we both took a step back and realized that the value of our words amounted to more than the whole group's conversation: our talk took thinking, exposure, and had some essence of risk. It was by all means "demanding." By this point I had already spent the weekend with family and had snapped out of my strange self pity that I carried with me when we had previously talked and was more aware of the exchange that was taking place. To her credit, she had noticed the higher level of conversation before I had.
Why do we gather in uselessness? Why do we speak in that which has no value. Why is the voice not silenced in exchange for the ear's heightened sense of focus. Why are words used to mask rather than to expose. Why do real words feel more like judgment than edification, regardless of who they come from? Why do we waste words on each other rather than uplifting each other with love. Love is not in word but in action. Had Christ's crucifixion only been spoken about and the death never enacted then Christ would be the biggest hoax in history. Had St. Paul only said "Imitate me as I imitate Christ" without imitation then 14 out of the 27 new testament books would be falsified.
I like to talk and have always enjoyed exchanging ideas with people. In conversations that have no set focus I find myself lost in all the commotion and desiring to find one person who's eyes hold a deeper concern for the people around them than just if we should be going to Duncin'Donuts or Starbucks. In 1 Thessalonians 5:11 St. Paul's wisdom, and what I like to pin as a character trait, is displayed when he writes: "Therefore comfort each other and edify one another." Useless discussion between friends paints no picture except one of deception and indifference. I wonder how different this world would be if we could break down our own superficial walls and speak and act in love and edification.
But then I turn and ask my generation, how can we edify each other if we ourselves have nothing to offer?