The Ink Tank: Editorial cartoon roundup – Boston.com
November 14, 2009
My Thoughts on Veteran’s Day
November 12, 2009
It’s an abomination to thank anybody for murder. Whether they are soldiers in this country or any other. Murder is murder. Our exalted rhetoric about the defense of freedom is an abomination, it’s horrific. I do not thank them, not as veterans of this nation, because more than words of thanks they need love from a community that hopes they shall be set free from their burden someday. As humans I stand with them enduring the weight of the evil that comes with killing in the name of a nation state, and its purported ideas of freedom, justice and free consumerism for all. They have fought for empty ideals, vanity and desolation. They are the ones who must live with blood on their hands, and we are responsible too for the blood which they shed. We are guilty of creating societies where bloodshed is praised as heroism, and where the murderous are exalted. We should not celebrate as much as weep. The taking of a single life does infinite damage to the psyche.
St. Mark the Monk
October 21, 2009
“Unless a man gives himself entirely to the Cross, in a spirit of humility and self-abasement; unless he casts himself down to be trampled underfoot by all and despised, accepting injustice, contempt and mockery; unless he undergoes all these things with joy for the sake of the Lord, not claiming any kind of human reward whatsoever – glory or honor or earthly pleasures – he cannot become a true Christian”
This is a quote by the Orthodox Father, St. Mark the Monk. I love this quote, and I think it rings true. Christianity is the process by which we learn to renounce all things save One, and to will this one thing is the purity which we all seek.
Take the Bible out of the Hands of Children
October 10, 2009
“Most North American Christians assume that they have a right, if not an obligation, to read the Bible. I challenge that assumption. No task is more important that for the Church to take the Bible out of the hands of individual Christians in North America. Let us no longer give the Bible to all children when they enter the third grade or whenever their assumed rise to Christian maturity is marked, such as eighth-grade commencements. Let us rather tell them and their parents that they are possessed by habits far too corrupt for them to be encouraged to read the Bible on their own.”
— Stanley Hauerwas
What do you think about this?
De Profundis
September 28, 2009
The darkness feels stifling, consuming the light of my eyes
Choking the frail hope i retain that you will be my deliverance
I am in the midst of great darkness, and no lights present themselves to guide me
I am lost beneath a great cloud of fog, and my direction is uncertain
They said you would be my light, They said that if I had enough faith you would always make everything work. They said i could trust in you to make me normal. They spoke of your great glory, but it was only to serve the ends they thought appropriate. They told me not to be sad, to overcome by pretending to be happy. They told me to tell others I was blessed and not cursed, above only and not beneath, more than a conqueror. They told me to conquer and make violence against the devil and his forces, they told me to be a one man army, to have the faith of a prophet.
I was led into the place where my hands were stained with blood, I tried to fix myself
I was led to the place where malice was my accomplice and a altar was placed before me
I was led upon the dais to behold the altar, and I burned incense to myself.
I was led to the place where my discomfort was my enemy, and i had to atone for myself.
I was led into darkness.
I was told that what matters is me, that who I am, and MY story are way God is going to use me. And now I am in deep darkness. I was told to seek after the things of the world, just to do it in a way that appeased the mandates of cultural humility.
The darkness swallows everything. There is not one thing that escapes decay, not one thing that escapes corruption, and we are all fallen. I am in darkness, and I am unhappy. I am in pain, and I am discontent. I sometimes wish I was not acquainted with You, and Your gospel. I sometimes wish I was different, another. I sometimes desire to be forsaken but you will not leave me. You have called me to the cross, and it pains me, you have called me to death and it is not easy.
You have called me to a holy dread, and it will not give me the desires of my wicked heart. You have spoken to me by speaking to the world, and we tremble at the sign the cross is our mt. zion, and we have all seen the glory of the lord and been called to respond.
You have started a world in which there is no more pain, and that world is already-not yet
where there is joy, you are there, where there is suffering, you are there, where your church suffers, you suffer with us, where your church is crucified, you are too, where your people are beaten and scourged, this is already our glory, where your people are weeping and famished, you are starving among the weakest
You are the human, you are the objective humanity, you are the one who knows what it means to live before the Father as a man teach me my beloved and cross shattered Lord, what it means to suffer unto the shedding of blood
and reassure me that these sufferings are well to experience. The suffering of the world is not foreign to you, you are the suffering one, you are the ever suffering one, we remember the testament of your great sorrow, and we enjoin our suffering to yours. You are dead, but not atheistically, we do not proclaim your death because you have ceased to be
but we proclaim your death, because we know that without it, there could be no life, we proclaim your death because we know we have been found wanting, we proclaim your death because it shows us we are accepted, we are loveless sinners, beloved children
Death is our enemy, and we reject her power, we reject her sting, yet the suffering is our life, and our sweet promise, the darkness we pass through is for the sake of light, the darkness we endure is exhaustible, and we bear the fury of the world with courage, not because we are inexhaustible, but because you are, and as we bear the suffering of the whole world enjoined in you, we shall find that your inexhaustible love is what guides us through the night and gives us assurance in the midst of despair
it is not that we are happy, but that we have courage to endure our fears, it is not that we have power, but that you make possible a community which does not need it, it is not that we have blessings according to the world, but that we have one bread, and one cup which is the sweetest blessing of all it is not that we are the most miraculous, but that you yourself have given us the greatest miracle of all. It is not that we have the greater works which we we seek, there is truly no greater love, no greater act than to suffer and lay down one’s life. Teach me to suffer by the way of your son, that my life brings to you principalities and powers subjected and laid at your feet Holy King of Israel
From the depths we cry to you oh Lord, your unhappy, and suffering children
From the depths we cry to You, your beloved children
Spirit be my guide in darkness, that where I am in the midst of sheol you are there
Spirit be my purger, and let my purgatory be in this life
Jesus be my teacher, that i may follow even unto death
Father, be that which you are, self-emptying love
Bring that vengeance which we seek, peace that destroys the powers of war. bring the vengeance which makes peace out of chaos, which brings order out of nothing. bring the vengeance and the wrath which dissolves alienation and marginalization. bring the justice which overcomes corruption, and the various injustices of the world, bring about that which you promised, the reconciliation of all things and most of all, give us the patience to wait, with love and trust that you will not fail us.
Criteria for healing
September 9, 2009
I just am thinking about the role of healing in our communities, and if they should be included in public liturgy, and if so, what is their role, and what are the determinative criteria for their acceptance as part of the liturgy?
What makes an unacceptable healing? is there such a thing?
How are we to be a community gathered around the Lord’s table with a concern for the charismata being a part of our worship Christianly?
Those are just some questions i’ve been asking.
Anyone have any thoughts?
The Apocrypha and the Protestant Life- What we may have missed
August 28, 2009
In the next week or so i’ll be starting a three to five post series on my reading of the apocypha and what it means to protestants.
I’ll be beginning the series with personal reflections on some of the books, and move towards an exegetical/ theological statement that the works can make as a whole towards us, and then draw on the series as a whole to see where the future of Charismatic theology might go, so subscribe to the blog and stay updated.
eli
I need help, God, I need your help.
My mind is on fire, my heart aches.
I feel disconnected and broken. I feel hurt, and I’m asking for you to reach out to me. I can’t think straight, my breathing is racing, and my heart is bleeding within me.
I feel disconnected, and abandoned, like those near me have passed into a beyond I can’t go to. Tell me why these things happen, as my heart bleeds chaos into the universe.
You never have asked a greater thing of me, and I’m feeling forsaken.
The inner life of the trinity as love can be recognized by us as love only through our participation in that life as it already is and draws us into it. To know the inner life of the Trinity requires that we participate already in the kenotic and self disclosing Other seeking love of the Trinity. There is no epistemology apart from participation. To believe otherwise is blasphemy. Only love understands itself, and only love can disclose itself, and it shall only disclose itself to love when speaking in the epistemological framework. Love is the truest reality that has been revealed to humanity, and it is inescapable. To be a Christian one must believe in and be shaped by their understanding of Absolute Love. In concrete reality love will overpower even non-love, but it will only do so by conforming non love into love through a Taboric experience, through a transfiguration that in the self disclosure draws non love into encounter and thus opens its eyes. Love is always the apriori, and it will always necessarily apprehend and invite the situation before releasing itself and its disclosure into the encounter with the Other. -Eli
Our holy night is defiled in this way, that we are broken by our own inadequate selfishness. Our erotic sentiment originally caught in the ever kenotic self-mutual union of eros and agape has become an introverted and destructive selfishness, destroying everything in its path for the sake of the idea of gratification.
Thick thoughts, thicker hopes, and fears coming to the front as sacred cloud music plays over the air between my headphones and my ears. I’m just another thought away from another moment, and I hold to hope. Though Zion is broken, and pain is our reality, the reality of pain becomes a form of presence in itself because we recognize the creation of presence in the midst of absence. Guide me as I close my eyes and walk this dark path, breathing solely in the rest of the dark night, this endless night of purgation, let me say with St. Thomas Moore, let my purgatory be in this life.
Love me. I know You do. Holy Mother, be my guidance in the dark night of despair, lead me to the feet of your Son through your fervent and gracious intercession. I will find peace in this darkness, hope in this despair, presence in this absence, and through the endless interlude of presence and absence, guide me in this respiration.
Let these interludes become to me as breathing and both giving and reception be unto me unitive parts of the same movement, cleanse my mind of my inadequate conceptualizations, and let this theology be from this heart of worship unto you O sacred Holy One. I receive your love as the primary foundation of my ability to love you, and ask that your love would shape this child’s heart, and that as I bring the little candle of my heart into the darkness that is all around, let this little candle absorb all this darkness and offer it up to you.
Throw onto me the pain and guilt of the whole world, for in doing so, with your grace in bearing it, I shall offer up to thee most gracious and holy Suffering Christ, a world transformed by our communion in this suffering. Let the love which you have poured out in my heart bear these burdens as a holy calling, set me apart for this. I ask your strength that I may not waver, and that I may trust in you with patience, hope and love.
This kenotic movement with which you have loved the Father and the world, let me be conformed to u-topic image that takes form in the immediate moment constantly rising to greet me, and let this kenotic movement shape me. Let this self-emptying lead me into the koinonia that is the foundation of community with the entire world in your perfect love and unity in which you restore order and agape to all reality in your gracious love. I believe in Absolute Love, even if all else fails.
I hold to thee, and holding fast, I will breathe deeply both presence and absence as the ebb and flow of faith and hope, which for the kenotic sake of each other travel perichoretically in consciousness, submitting to each other and to Love mutually. Thus ever expressing themselves anew in the immediate moment.
Let faith and hope attain to perichoresis united by that Love which empowers them to become the trinitarian union of eschatological/global consciousness in the present through to the future.
just some thoughts.
theological reflections at 3;29 AM
December 29, 2008
well, i was thinking about neo-orthodoxy and found the Christomonism disturbing, thus in setting up my own doctrine of God have decided that the Trinitarian approach is best as has been seen in recent theology, but i will ground my theological programme on the concrete revelations of Christ and the Spirit as the basis and foundation for the critique of and subsequent establishment follow through of the doctrine of God, just a thought.
slip across the streams of our pitter patter romance, drip, like rain across a letter box and carry on and on.
Windows, there, in the distance carry endless weight, the gravity of it all, suddenly shatters at the horizon break forth with new light another endless dawn
forever,
forever…
what is it about that word, that shapes us into more than mere mortals?
Lights, meander, searching in the depths of our hand in hand abyss, following after the footsteps just one step ahead in darkness, follow me into the dark, and I’ll show you where we are going, we will meet again, in the place where there is no darkness.
He says it, in hope. The other, hears it in blessed assurance, held with mighty contempt. And I, I say it, thinking upon the thoughts that grace these words. He gives a smart look at the two minutes hate, and it is only a flash of the eyes, something intelligent that catches between them, but, it’s broken in the end.
There is no strength to the human spirit, they say. They’re all dumb animals, and alone here I write these letters into this type writer with the flippers of a sea ox.
telling, that it is, it’s telling, revealing, smelling of death, destruction, there is a bit of hell in this heaven. There’s still a marriage happening here, and who would speak, when all graves forever hold their peace?
Dead men’s bones afterall tell no tales, or so we thought, then forensics blessed our televisions, and we were made aware that afterall, there are tales to be told in these bones.
It’s slipping now, the sudden urge, the endless plight, writing lifting herself from me like a rising wind that I cannot press down, though i wish to keep her, she will pass away
Anexamenos, worships, hisGOD! Anexamenos worships his god.
Oh, they ridicule, btu they have no right, either they will kill us all, or they should leave us alone. What has Athens to do with Jerusalem!? The Academy with the church!?
What has your hand to do with mine? or your eyes with my heart? Will you ever hold me again? Does it even matter in the end? Maybe I should light another cigarette and sit, and wait.
Will your soft, cold hands ever touch this face again? what have I done for you? nothing.
That’s the sad truth, si that there is nothing in me that can call to you, nothing in me that can ask anything of you. You blessed me, used me, broke me, and here I am, still unwittingly yours from moment to moment, still chained to this infernal emotional basket case that is my mind. But were I chained to any other basket case, i may as well have a picnic. For that is what one does with baskets, is it not?
Oh, here we are again, the end of the world, well, the end of the page at any rate, and thus concludes this brief foray into our mind’s eye, slip past me again, and let me hear the rain drops, as she sings, that bitter song.
It tastes like camphor, and violets, and violence. Like glory, and riches and blessing. And in the end it is vapor, evanescent on my chest.
just a thought
December 27, 2008
i will live, and if I do not, then i shall be dead, and shall have no cause for concern any longer
Numb
December 26, 2008
I’m feeling like I have returned to the terrible place of darkness, that insoluble shadow in which my heart chokes, in whihc my light has become the latern for bloodshed, and the deepest remains of light in me have gone.
My hands are covered in the blood and minds of martyrs, made by my own hand, brought underneath the great throne of my own judgment through my own workings.
Pitiless, endless chasm of hate, I became these things when I lost sight. I have hidden my light so deeply within me that I do not know where to find it. I have lost my way so thoroughly that I cannot begin to find myself.
And what am I doing? Having a moment with my conscience, that blasted thing that proves my own disunity with myself and with others, for were I a man of stronger devotion, I would leave the matter altogether and just go love. For that would be the Christian thing to do, instead I recite the Grand Inquisitor, straining against my inclination for the sake of my own heresies.I am not the man who founded a heresy and discovered it was orthdoxy.
I am the man who ran to orthdoxy, made a mockery of it, of her, and of Him, and in the process debased with blood the very altars i thought to worship at. I have desecrated the very holy place i sought to carve out for Him, and in doing so feel myself beyond pardon. But there is the hook of vanity. Were I unable to forgive myself, he would no sooner let me condemn myself, for my vanity.
I thought myself a man going in the right direction, but beauty came to seek me out, and I found I was the most unlovely of all. Wretched and pitiful, I thought I would be the man who worshipped with a pure heart, instead I have made war, have discouraged myself in the throes of empty struggle and have given myself to the pursuit of vapor.
I have fallen to these empty works of the perishing world, these effervescent indulgences that have swayed my heart from truth. And I want to hate Him sometimes. Him in all his righteousness, but I can’t, not anymore.
I saw what he did, with his suffocating bleeding body, with his broken heart and great burden, and I remember, that He has been raised, and in doing so has initiated that holy harmony wihc we await. In Him, all things are being set to rights, even me. Even all my sins, all my injustices are being set to rights, and I choose Him. I choose to the best of my little depraved ability to serve this One, who with his gasping breaths asks for our forgiveness. I choose this one, who is more than a hero, more than a martyr, more than a revolutionary.
I dedicate myself to the darkest of moments, to the deepest of living hells, to the endless seas of torment that are following this bloodied man across the world. I choose to dedicate myself to this weeping savior, who seeing what we are has chosen not to destroy us, but to forgive us.
Forgive me, for my deviations, for my explanations, for my irreverence and blasphemy. My blasphemy has been to surrender my own freedom to that unthinking purpose, and I thought I did it in service of you, but I did nothing in your name. I lied to myself, to think that I could walk away from You, in your name. Forgive this blasphemy, I ask in earnest.
I have seen where I have been, have bloodied my hands in the feeble attempts to grasp the razor blades that are the contours of your will, there is only safety within, to be on the fringes is to choose life, which is death. So, here we are, and I will not make a commitment out of emotional self pity or vain imagination at perfection, I merely ask that in your grace and mercy you would have the grace to draw me out of this mess and into your purging fire.
I look at where I have come from, and realized that even this is not right, for anyone who sets his hand to the plow and looks back is not fit for the kingdom. Hopefully I have not even set my hand to the plow, for I have looked back all too often, and in spite of your grace chosen to go another way.
Somehow, I reduced You into something safe, something bearable, something less than what You are, so i could be safe, and not have to face You. I hated You. At least, I wanted to. maybe I did.
I wanted to be another, to be in another place, another life, and the only question that made sense was why me?
I didn’t expect to find you here so soon, so welcoming, so embracing. I don’t know where my hope went, but I’m asking you to help me find it again.
We all turned out so broken, so empty, so full of hurt, all of us, not one escaped. I look back, and think, wow, we have all been abandoned, left for dead, broken in various ways, and have been shamed. We were all children, and we all suffered as children, some less than others, but we all suffered, and how can our suffering be atoned for?
We depart from this table, from the community of our buried lives, from the places in which we suspended our hopes, we depart from this place in which our lives were walked away from, and we embraced becoming that thing which the pain makes us. I cannot speak for them, though I wish I could.
So, I depart from it. From letting the pain conform me to its own image. I cannot bear this broken heart alone, but I am trying to confide in you.
We were young once, but have since tasted the thing which we desired most, and it has brought our destruction with it. We are beautiful, and still young, still untested by the rigors of endless torment, though we have known pain.
Our eyes belie the simplicity of our empty hearts, we try to smile and glow. But we cannot.
Though she has passed through a thousand hands and will pass into a thousand more, she will never be satisfied. The ebauty she has in front of the camera, is just as wounded off screen, and it’s all in her eyes. Those eyes have known pain.
His eyes, I cannot speak for, but I can speak for myself.
I speak as one who has in these years since our youth been brought through many places, many names, many impressions. I have been savior and saved, and I have been tormentor, I know my eyes, they lie. They have known life, and have known death, and in these hands a beating heart still holds a promise, a whisper of redemption. And if the sun is truly rising, then tell me a story.
If there is love in these hands, let’s build for a kingdom, so that we can see inbreakings of heaven on earth. And if we are all utterly hopeless, then let me be tormented, and take from me this dire knowledge that destroys me.
I know that there is redemption here, I only do not know what form it takes. Other than to proceed in the path of our father Benedict, and in silence love the people.
