Opinions

The Eschatology of Food

We just finished the Dormition Fast. As one writer said in The Dawn, our Matriarch was on her bed of repose, and so the whole family ceased its celebration and stayed by her side. Theotokos, save, by thy prayers.

I’m interested in the eschatological aspects of fasting. I see fasting, and the life of the monks, who don’t touch meat, as a foretelling of the end of Death. What the quasi-Darwinists hold is what we Orthodox must reject (you don’t have to “believe in evolution” to accept the basic assumptions of the Darwinists) – namely, that Death is natural – that it’s a normal condition of the natural order. We repudiate this. There is no middle ground. Death is an attack on man and the created order. It has entered the natural order as an invader, and is therefore a negation of the normal (nor do we confuse, conflate, and substitute the concepts of “natural” with “normal” as do the Darwinists).

And so our eating of meat is made possible only through Death, a thing which is passing away, a thing over which we live to triumph and die to defeat. When we fast from flesh, just as the monks always do, those who go before us on the path, we recall that “every green thing” was given to us in Eden, but that we are no longer the veegans we were – because of Death, and we foretell the fulfillment of the Kingdom, in which the “lion will lie down with the lamb, and a little child will lead them” and neither will there be any more Death or sorrow. We look to a heaven in which the enmity between creatures is replaced with the reign of peace. The alienation, the fragmentation, that is Death itself, is replaced with life that destroys Death.

So often, the cultural religious response is suspicious of Veeganism and Vegetarianism, and reaches quickly for heterodox hermeutics and the first council in the New Testament, in which nothing is forbidden to eat except strangled things and blood and (elsewhere), in the advice of the Apostle, things sacrificed to idols. But this is to miss the point, and indeed to Protestantize our thinking, using one point over against another, as though ours is a religion of proof texts and a debate over contradictions – a faith in this not that – either/or rather than both/and.

It’s like talking about fasting at all: “Are you judging your brother? Are you prideful about your fasting? Love is more important than fasting.” One cannot answer these attitudes, because they’re formulated on a Protestant mentality in the first place. A religious psychology predicated on hashing out dialectical conflicts. When one even begins to question our consumption of meat, the immense suffering – both human and animal – brought about my the meat processing industry, etc. – it’s immediately treated as suspect. So be it. But the Orthodox response is ultimately a destruction of death and, yes, a taking away of that hamburger and that pepperoni pizza. What is permitted during the feasts is with equal truth and fervor forbidden during the fasts, and moreso will be extinguished and nonexistent in the fulness of the Kingdom. If we cannot take full stock of that truth, the problem is in our own prejudices, and not in the Faith or in those who articulate it. The Incarnation itself is null without the end of Death, so it is the very Faith itself that is vain if this is not true.

No, we don’t go around pointing fingers, but neither is it necessarily an expression of pride, arrogance, or judgment to be veegan – and to be veegan precisely as a piety – as a devotion – as an expression of Faith. “Keep quiet about it, then,” we are told. No. The same people who say this are busy writing articles on all kinds of topics – how can they say this one is forbidden, and on what basis? On the contrary, if we can’t have a free and open discussion on it, then perhaps that very religious psychology – the very “piety” being suggested – is itself an even more important topic for conversation, and this issue is just a catalyst, a useful example, for bringing it to light.

Anthony Campolo once said, “My theology is best expressed in elevators.” By which he meant that, contrary to the demands and assumptions of the dominant social order, he wouldn’t turn, and he would also sing on elevators, which you’re not supposed to do (people don’t get on, when the doors open). This kind of mundane warfare with the world is simply the every day expression of our all out campaign against the world system – the ascendant societal framework. It’s the Ghandi-esque expression of small, continual acts of repudiation, rejection, and rebellion in the face of an all-consuming overriding social system. It is the brief ignition of joy in the darkness of the way things supposedly are.

In the same way, I like to challenge the social order’s assumptions about meat, in small continual doses. I live in a part of the country in which it’s just not considered a meal w/o copious portions of carcass. Vegetables are, at best, a garnish. Animal products constitute the primary fare, and ridicule of vegetarians and religious vehemence about “liberty in Christ” and privacy in fasting (which means, typically, not fasting at all), is generally a cover for decadent gluttony – the kind of gluttony that causes immense health problems, not to mention pain and discomfort waddling away from the table (irrational, almost insane gluttony). I’m a flexitarian – which means sometimes I’m veegan, sometimes vegetarian, and sometimes I eat hamburgers – it’s a long story, but it’s part of an ongoing process. Often, I’ll order toast and eggs at local diners. I almost always get a bewildered query from the waitress, “No meat?!?” And I always have the same response: “Eggs *are* meat.” Usually I get a moment of hesitation and thought and a “Hmm. Guess so.”, but it can range anywhere from a hrrmph to laughter. The point is that we need to question the assumptions we’ve absorbed with our mother’s milk and taken from the very air of the world into which we were born. And one of those key assumptions is that Death is a given – it’s a normal, natural, native part of the created order – and our lives aren’t complete without depending on the death of others. There are implications for attitudes about war, capital punishment, abortion, and what have you. Food is just an entry point.

The thing is, being afraid to talk about it, or ask these questions, or keep the topic open, or think about it – think through the implications of our doctrines, and our relation to the assumptions embedded in the culture’s behavior, attitudes, and ideas, is itself a non-Christian attitude. An anti-Christian one, in fact. And if we can’t do it about food, we can’t effectively do it about money, about human relationships, about work, or about any other significant area of human endeavour. Food is a crucible issue for us, which is one of the reasons we fast. It’s that important, it’s a capsulized representation of our religious attitudes about creation, the world, the Incarnation, and all else that we consider a matter of Orthodox interest.

So frankly, here’s talking about it.

Being frustrated with our Brethren

Response to a Friend:

Don’t be discouraged by your fellow Orthodox. Think as highly of them as you can manage. Whenever you have faith, it attracts religion. With religion, you get a spectrum, with the libertines on one end, those who prefer infinite diversity but don’t really care about the Faith at all – they’re just taking up space and purifying it of everyone else, and the jailers on the other end, those who care about absolute homogeneity but don’t really care about people at all – they’re just holding their own and purifying it for everyone else. But neither of those tendencies is really what we mean when we’re talking about Orthodoxy. Sure, they may be Orthodox, but so are a host of people who were merely born into it, and spend the rest of their time selling it out. The Faith is not the collective of what all Orthodox believe; rather, it’s the duty and priviledge of the Orthodox to learn and adhere to the Faith, and to transform it into reality in our lives by deification. There are still those Orthodox who cling to the Faith when it’s opposed by religiosity; I know lots of them. You can hang out with one religious camp for the freedom (but you’ll give up the substance) – you lose the “believe” in “I believe”; you can hang out with the other for the tradition – the Faith itself (but you’ll lose your sense of self – the “I” in “I believe”). Or, you can find the place that admits both kinds of religious people, but doesn’t give them a way to take over. That’s what I’ve done; It’s not perfect, but neither am I.

On the adage your brethren throw at you that something is “merely human”: I like to ask them what they have against humans? Christ became human, and that’s the mystery of our salvation. I’m merely following in his footsteps, He who Alone can enable me to become fully human, and also deified. In fact, it is in Christ’s humanity that ALL creation is deified, for he is the Recapitulation of all categories proper to human beings, and therefore all categories proper to all creation, and therefore the Creation groans and cries out for the Revelation of the human beings – the sons of God – the deified ones. If what I do can only be called human, I will have achieved all I can achieve.

I don’t see them swearing off money and all possessions; they still gas up and go to the store. When they’re wearing the only habit they own, then I’ll consider what they’ve said. The monks are far more reasonable than the people you’re dealing with. That’s because, again, it’s Faith not religion. The monks are the center of our Faith; without them, we can’t understand anything. The ultra-correct jailers are merely being religious, and if you follow them, you can’t understand anything either. The Desert is a friend – to us, not to the Death in us, which it will carve out, and even we lay-ascetics who are not monastics, must cross into the Desert with help, with an appropriate guide, when we can and are permitted. By contrast, the religious offer either a night in Vegas or a night in the penitentiary. It’s neither the Desert nor the Font of Paradise they really offer.

So guard your soul, forgive those who wrong you, consider those who oppose you better than yourself, do not pay attention to your own acts of goodness or you will have already lost them and become a Pharisee, and remember that Orthodoxy is not a belief system; it’s an asceticism. It cannot be defined, only lived. You’ll hear that from people offering it as the justification for libertinism, or as the “correct” doctrine of the jailers, but ultimately you must find it as an experience of continual warfare with the passions and with the world, from which there is no reprieve – no going home and not fighting – and no quick end. Life is war, in this regard. Not war on our ‘wayward’ brethren, and not a matter of setting the infidel straight, but the conquest of self, the last and greatest warfare. And by this, we will overcome the Evil One, and Paradise, which is opened to us, will call out our true names.

Feeling Randy

Ayn Rand’s re-translation of Aristotle’s logic, ethics, and aesthetics into modern parlance is invaluable. However, she seems to have followed some trails and assumed they are the only possible ones. Atheism is one of those. Scores of Randies think that atheism is the only rational alternative simply because it fits with what they’ve learned from Rand. But, of course, that’s a fallacy. It would only be the only rational alternative in a positivistic world – one in which the only thing we know is what we’ve gleaned from what we already know. And no one lives that way, least of all Randites.

Rand has a lot to say that we should listen to about the use of force (extortion, compulsion, etc) and about, without most readers hearing it, Death.

“I can get along with a Randite” – Bernardo de la Paz.

I consider Rand a mentor, and I’ve read her analysis of religion, which is why I think both that she would make a welcome addition to the faithful, and why I suspect she never really absorbed the significance of Orthodox thought in her Communist and Jewish Russian experience. Her commentary seems absorbed primarily with late-Western forms of Christianity, and perhaps just a smells and bells interaction with Russian Orthodoxy. She didn’t have a Vladimir Lossky to translate our thinking into modern parlance and, by the time she could have, her ideas were already well-formed and she was committed to her path.

But I pray for Ayn. And ask that she receive mercy, because she tried to reach the truth and got there in some respects, but also got sidelined, perhaps by pride and loneliness, as I would have. And if the Lord will have mercy on her, perhaps he will have mercy on me by her prayers.

“Pancho needs your prayers, it’s true. But save a few for Lefty, too. He only did what he had to do, and now he’s growing old.” – Towns Van Zandt

If you should think of her, pray for Ayn Rand.

Why I Love my Wife

One of the reasons, if not the reason, I am continually falling in love with my wife, over and over again, is that my wife shows me the face of the poor.

My wife was born very premature and very small, and only just survived with a lot of care, but she has had a lifelong illness that has been crippling or life-threatening when it’s not in remission. Her mother abandoned the family when my wife was a child. Her father became wealthy but, when he died, the family’s fortune was lost, and my wife and her brother suffered, their hopes for college and a bright future dashed. My wife, when I met her, was an orphan, broke, and sick, though her disposition was so sunny and cheerful, open and expressive, that you’d never know it.

Yama 8 - TibetContinually, when I see the poor of the world, I see her. When anyone is suffering or deprived, the fact that they are Somali or Kenyan or Cambodian or Indian or Palestinian doesn’t intrude – it’s as if, in their faces, I can see her face so clearly; in fact, I see in their faces the same simple hope, the same crushing pain, the same humanity I see whenever I look at my wife. She has shown me the poor, and turned my heart toward them, and so toward her.

I take no great lesson from this; I don’t know what the lesson is. I do know that it seems to be unusual. The people I know, good people, don’t look at others of different colors and features and nationalities the same way. They see a dichotomy between foreigners and their own, and there’s a rift between them and the world, and I don’t know how to communicate through that barrier. It’s a sadness and an alienation that will always be with me, and it seems to be the American attitude.

I go to work, and the Indian contractors call everyone “Sir”, because they are afraid of making a mistake (which could be ruinous for them in our hypersensitive corporate culture), and no one responds “But we’re the same, you and I. I’m John (or Peter or James).” They eat smelly food (which is delicious), and they sit among themselves, and no one intrudes to join them. They are looked upon simply as “they” and, since they are temporary, there’s no real need to identify with them on a daily basis. Instead of being our honored guests, they are our “guestworkers“, and you know what that term has meant, historically.

Jigme 8, Sonam 18 months - IndiaAmong my associates, I watch eyes glaze over when I talk about the poor in other countries, and I watch a nationalism come out that talks of “my own community” (even among conservatives who ordinarily wouldn’t use the word “community” to save their lives). They don’t realize that precisely because the “foreigner” seems distant to you, he is your stranger, your poor. He is Christ the Stranger, Christ the Foreigner, Christ the Alien, the Unknown Christ. But we live in a religious culture that behaves as if, when it doesn’t openly assert, that nothing about Christ in unknown. We have Him fully circumscribed. And in such a culture, Christ does not come to us in the stranger. He is not found in the wounded Jew cared for by the Samaritan. He is not in the suffering beyond the sea. He is Citizen Christ, of the United States. He is only the rich poor, and the rich’s poor.

Rationalizations abound, and I’ve heard them all – so much that they seem a drone of platitudes that each person parrots but presents as his original thoughts. Justifications, without real regard for truth. And I’ve no patience for it. It’s heresy. But give me the heretics who love the poor; they are my brethren. I must be willing to be even a heretic for their sake, though it is a grave thing to be considered so by one’s brethren.

My wife:

I was blind. Years of blindness. And my wife came and saved me. She showed me the outcast Somali woman, shunned by her own family for being sterile and incontinent from a childhood childbirth of a juvenile marriage. Made to live in a shack of sticks added reluctantly onto the back of the house – just enough shelter that the hyenas can’t get to her. That young girl dreams of belonging, of having a family, of being loved and wanted. My wife shows me the Kenyan woman who runs a barren stall under a tattered awning and dreams of getting China - Earthquake victimjust a little ahead, so she can make a life. Just a few extra wares, and she can sell all she can procure. She shows me Cambodian and Indian children, abandoned and with nothing, who are given pretty treats by passing adults (candy is easy to buy), but not enough real nutrition to grow properly, and who have no chance to go to university; it’s just a distant dream. Some of them may end up slaves, and some may wear away their lives in misery with never anything but the clothes that cover them in the fields. They begin to wonder why they are alive, why other peoples lives seem to have meaning. They begin to lose a sense of self. My wife shows me the Palestinian family, trapped in Gaza, the walled city, like the Jews in the ghettos of Germany, but this time the Jews are the jailors; a family any one of whom would work two shifts a day every day for the other, but surrounded by barbed wire and tanks, and not allowed even to seek a chance on the open streets in a fair market, while just beyond the tanks are high-rises and lush parks.

When I look at my wife, I see the simplicity, sincerity, the most basic desires that indicate a human spirit, and I look back and forth between her and the world, and she is everywhere. And we are the rich, the privileged, who complain because our 8hr jobs are too tiring, but she has taught me to see wealth differently. My wife has taught me to love the poor, and the poor have taught me to love my wife.

This is all I know about it. I am nothing special for being given this vision. It’s a grace. An unmerited gift. It has filled my life with such joy, such agony for others, and such sadness that I don’t know how to give it away. My wife has saved my life, saved me, a closed-minded, selfish, person who did not see the world and the poor for what they were. That’s all.

What's the difference between a week and a year?

If this week 40 people would give $25 each to New Futures Orphanage, instead of that same amount spread out over a year’s time, the children could buy chickens, fish, plants, and other sustainable food sources that would last over a long time, and wouldn’t have to eat the small increments of money coming in, while they’re waiting, so that they have no future. If 20 of us could give $50 this week, instead of spread out over a year, they could eat all year, instead of just on the weeks that someone gives.

Choose a child from the orphanage photo below, hold him or her in your mind, and picture what eating all year long might do for his mind, his health, and his opportunities. Now picture him wondering every day if there will be rice today. It’s easy to do the right thing: give directly, so 100% of the funds go to the orphanage, which is run by volunteers, take it as a tax deduction (they email you a receipt automatically), and you break even, but their lives are changed. Christ reward you according to you charity.

Christ is an orphan. “Who are my mother and my brothers?”

Christ became an orphan for our sakes, “Lord, Lord, why has Thou forsaken me?”

I'm asking for your help

I first got involved with direct giving to the poor because of the New Futures Orphanage. I was scouring the net, looking for just, real, and direct ways to impact the lives of the poor, with small funds. I came across a [ blog ] kept by an English teacher backpacking through Cambodia.

the least of theseShe’d come upon an orphanage there that needed volunteers to teach some English to the children. Teachers would come through, and some would stay a while and do this, and she was captivated and decided to stay for much longer. I was captivated too, and I looked, and they needed $900 in small gifts – that’s all they were asking for last year, and it was being given in small gifts ($25, $35, $45 at a time) through [ givemeaning.org ] a site that serves as the vehicle for giving directly to such small charities.

They finally met their fundraising goal, which was used to provide some basic things to the orphanage, like cinder block walls and a roof to enclose the toilet. I read the updates from Claire, who was giving her time there. She reported on how the children were doing, their improving skills, what this means for their future. I read what the children thought about their situation, and their hopes for their futures; each one is an individual. I knew I had to help.

The poor are Christ to us. They are the icon, the image. They are the means by which we are saved, by being filled with love. Apart from them, I know I at least cannot be saved. They are the ones of whom Christ said, “inasmuch as you have done with your riches to the least of these, who are my brothers, you have so done to me in my impoverishment”.

Recently, the landlord sold the orphanage and the children had to be taken to a facility that doesn’t have electricity. So they need to raise money to get 12volt battery-powered lighting installed and survive with the soaring food costs. The project has established a funding goal of $1000. I’m asking you to help me help them. Take the cost of a night out, or a new video game, or a month of cable TV, and give directly to them, for this need.


Will you help? Please?

They are [ here ].

Direct Giving defined: Give in reality, not in theory. Give to people, not to ideas.

Fiction vs. Non-Fiction

I know people deeply immersed in one or the other, and just a few immersed in both. The thing is, non-fiction gives us a direct dosing of ideas, seemingly without setting or apparatus. Fiction often doesn’t pay off what it promises, in terms of meaning. And our reading, really, is either a search for entertainment or a search for meaning.

Non-fiction, though, really does come with a substantial apparatus. In place of the normal aspects of fiction – plot, characterization, setting – we get the author’s presuppositions (e.g. about what the important questions are), his unaccountable absolutes (the unchallenged assertions inherent in his ideas), his biases, and the emotional impact of his own convictions, if any. In other words, there’s more weeding and processing to do than some readers acknowledge.

I’m a fan of both forms, but I confess I prefer fiction when I can get it. The thing that unites both forms is theme. If we refer to the theme of “the union of all men”, someone can suggest a non-fiction work, and I can suggest a work of fiction. But frankly, I find there are more subtle themes available in fiction that are as yet unexplored in non-fiction, and that would force me to look there, in any case.

One is not more important or significant than the other, but I think it’s easy for non-fiction lovers to deprive themselves of the real value of fiction by, if not careful, seeing everything as a prosaic proposition. There’s a kind of communication of through the whole soul available in fiction that seems only rarely accessible in its counterpart.

For me, sci-fi and fantasy are the unparalleled repositories of soul in modern art. …

The Imperial Death March

You know, the fundamentalists are deluded about the public schools. They constantly complain about anything sexual, but they let the schools decide to do mandatory ASVAB testing, and otherwise turn these kids into good little patriots and citizens, without batting an eyelash. You can’t sell part of a soul.

Finding Important Things in Charity

A friend and I were recently discussing what’s important in charity or, more specifically, charitable giving. And we came up with some key elements:

  • consistency: it’s better to give consistently than to splurge once in a way you can’t sustain, and in fact give less, and nothing over time. The same is true of prayer rules. Better to pray 5 minutes morning and night, than two hours once, that doesn’t get repeated until you feel guilty and defeated. Besides, $75/month over 12 months is three times as much as $300 in a one-time splurge.
  • avoid pride: it’s better not to try to slam dunk a problem you can then be proud of; instead, give also to causes for which the world says there’s no hope
  • diversify: same as with any investment, scatter your seed abroad: it’s often claimed that charity should start at home – which usually means, actually, that it should remain at home – in fact, there’s no real justification for easing the mere discomfort and inconvenience of those who are most like you while neglecting the life-threatening and soul-destroying need of those who are least like you. Remember the Good Samaritan who gave his money for the infidel. Something useful may be to lend to the working poor (e.g. through microloans), give to the very and desperately poor (e.g. orphanages), and give to an organization (like Oxfam) for relief of the most devastatingly impoverished. Also donating to a local food bank may be a good idea for charity in one’s own community.
  • [avoid delicacy]: there’s already an article on this (click the link) but, in brief, it means avoid the paralysis of not doing much because you can’t find the perfect thing to do.

The Prayer for the Naming

of a Child on the 8th Day

In the Tradition of the Orthodox Church, a child — male or female — is named formally on the eighth day after birth, following the example of our Lord. Many American Orthodox know nothing about the beautiful service in which this is done, let alone seen it offered. Soon-to-be parents may want to discuss it with their parish priest, as part of their preparation for welcoming a new son or daughter into God’s world.
This short service begins with “Blessed is our God…,” …

Let Israel fight like Philistines and stand like men

Israel and Philistines in battleWe often take criticism when we’re honest about the full experience of the Fast, especially when we say openly (not only admit but laud this) that we are intentionally weakening the body. Such a thing is unthinkable among those who regard the body almost as a thing of worship, and see giving the body whatever it wants as a law of nature.

But they deny what we assert, namely that Death is not natural, but has infected our nature, and so the demands of the body are not natural ones, quite often – what appears to be normal is excess – is actually the hegemony of the body over the person – an enslavement.

Those who criticize the weakness we impose on the body have themselves imposed a greater weakness on their bodies, for what we impose on our bodies is discipline. We weaken the body through abstinence, that we might strengthen it with discipline. The critics weaken their bodies with regard to discipline, that they might give it whatever it demands for existence, though its demands far exceed existence; indeed it demands hegemony.

The rulership of the material world over the subject persons, and their willing to fall down before its demands, shows that it is slaves that criticize us, while we are making ourselves free. No one who gives the body whatever it wants is free, but instead they are a servant of the body. Just as if you give a child or an animal whatever it wants, you are a servant of the child or of the animal. But the body sings a sweet song of sleep and contentment, so that its dominance is not realized. It lulls the child (for that is what its children are – perpetual children, in fact), and such a child cannot understand why we would ever seek rulership over ourselves as true freedom, for they find the body gives them all they think they need, until their short lives end in Death.

As one father has said, the conquest of self is the greatest enterprise of our warfare. …

Who Killed Christ?

CrucifixionA question was asked “In the Brother’s Karamazov, Fr. Zosima mentions that a man must realize he is responsible for all the sins of mankind. How is this possible?”

Answer: Every time I have sinned, I am again guilty of the entire fall of all creation into Death. Each time. When I sin, I bring death to the world again as the first time. Every child that starves. Every forest that dies. Everyone who anywhere suffers illness, want, or in any way. All suffering and pain is my fault. It is all my fault. My own most grievous fault. It is like the old catechetical question: “Who killed Christ?” There is only one answer, and every Orthodox person must learn it: I did.

So who brought death into the world, and every result of death, every frustration of man, every harm, and all sins, which result of death? I did.

Mine is the first sin. Which is why every liturgy, when with the psalter we pray “Deliver me from bloodguiltiness O God,” I know truly that I am speaking of my great crime. I am the original mass murderer. The original genocidal maniac. The willing destroyer of babes. It is a difficult answer to hear, and not easily digested by everyone. It is often thought such an answer is overstated, but it is confirmed again and again by our fathers in the desert. When they teach us, “consider yourself inferior to all men”, they aren’t being coy. I think they know that when one of us gives account for all the crimes of the world, he no longer thinks himself greater than his Master, but knowing his crimes, can make his life a metanoia before God.

The Deliverance of Captives

For my friend and brother in Christ, named for an archangel and faithful intercessor, who rolled away the stone from the tomb and announced the resurrection of Christ God:

Christ’s words in the Gospel

Luke 4:16-21 (KJV) “And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up: and, as his custom was, he went into the synagogue on the sabbath day, and stood up for to read. [17] And there was delivered unto him the book of the prophet Esaias. And when he had opened the book, he found the place where it was written, [18] The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, [19] To preach the acceptable year of the Lord. [20] And he closed the book, and he gave it again to the minister, and sat down. And the eyes of all them that were in the synagogue were fastened on him. [21] And he began to say unto them, This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears.””

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