The Angel Cried

A beautiful hymn sung once at the beginning of Lent, and then again on Holy Pascha and throughout the remainder of the bright season until Ascension (40 days). Here sung in old church Slavonic with the English translation.

The Angel cried to the Lady Full of Grace:
Rejoice, O Pure Virgin!
Again I say: Rejoice!
Your Son is risen from His three days in the tomb.
With Himself He has raised all the dead.
Rejoice, all ye people!
Shine, shine, O New Jerusalem,
The glory of the Lord has shone on you.
Exult now and be glad, O Zion,
Be radiant, O Pure Theotokos,
In the Resurrection of your Son!

Holy and Great Friday

"When Jesus therefore saw His mother, and the disciple whom He loved standing by, He said to His mother, 'Woman, behold your son!' Then He said to the disciple, 'Behold your mother!'"

We worship Thy Passion, O Christ!

File under: sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

While my beard is fairly non-descript, the flowing mullet-mane pictured to the left is most decidedly not. The wearer of this mullet seems to derive Sampson-like powers of Donkey Kong video game ability as well as supreme levels of arrogance and condescension. King of Kong: Fistful of Quarters is a documentary that chronicles the clash between twenty year Donkey Kong point champion Billy Mitchell (Mr. Mullet pictured to the left and according to Wikipedia, christened by Maxim magazine as "Dweebus Maximus Dorkus of both the 20th and 21st centuries") and challenger Steve Weibe. Weibe, "the nice guy," nevertheless ignores the poopy-pantsed pleas of his son for wiping aid during his record-breaking game attempt and weeps openly on camera when he is mistreated in a video game competition.

The documentary is fascinating and manages to evoke an intensity that belies its subject matter. Still, I found the rabid intensity of the adherents to this video game reality-world to be disconcerting, as wrapped up as they are into classic arcade video games. At times, watching the documentary was analogous to the morbid fascination that won't let you pull your eyes away from a train wreck. Nevertheless, as a study in sociology and my own past (at one time I was pretty heavy into video games sans mullet) King of Kong was well worthwhile.

On a slightly less serious note . . .

A few weeks ago, I was waiting at the bus stop downtown after work at about 9:30 PM. Unexpectedly, a man who I assumed to be homeless approached me and proclaimed in a loud voice, "Hey, you're the ultimate beard guy!" He then went on to share with me his own personal frustrations in the area of beard-growing while extolling the virtues of my "ultimate" beard.

I imagine that in this man's travels he has seen many an impressive beard. I am honored that he would bestow this title upon me, unless he was under the influence, in which case I would be less impressed.

Bowing Down Pt. 2

One of the enduring memories I have of my brief stay in Paris comes from a rather unexpected place. While walking in the city's underground Metro system, my wife and I came upon a beggar facing the bustling passersby on her knees. Being on one's knees seems like a natural position for a beggar and perhaps you have observed someone begging for alms on their knees before. As obvious as it may seem, I had not seen this before nor have I seen it since. As I passed by this woman (without stopping or offering any aid) I was struck by the look of sincere desperation on her face. I was left with the distinct impression that she considered herself very much dependent on the help of others for her continued survival. Without this help she would perish. She was begging for mercy.

I could contrast this experience with my observances of the homeless in America (in reality, I pay little mind to the homeless around me or perhaps view them with disdain), many of which are equally unfortunate.

On one occasion several years ago, I was harassed by a homeless woman who believed I was laughing at her when she asked me for money. Likely mentally ill, this woman proceeded to yell and curse at me while I crossed the street and continued this behavior until I was out of earshot more than a block away. More recently, a man who purported to be stranded on the side of the road in my neighborhood blatantly lied to me about his situation so that I would give him money (which I did).

I do not share these stories with the intention of lessening our compassion for the poor and oppressed. But these stories do remind me of the depths our fallen nature can take us to when stripped of our comforts and faced with an uncomfortable reality.

The circumstances of the homeless, whether in Paris or in Seattle, may seem quite different from our own. Indeed, as I type this post sitting in relative luxury, I am reminded of the many differences. Still, I wonder if the dissimilarity between my own circumstances and that of a homeless beggar simply provides a convenient opportunity for me to avoid a potentially jarring reality: that I too am not an autonomous individual, I am not a rock or an island, but I am very much dependent on others for my basic survival.

This dependency is not purely physical but also spiritual. If I have eyes to see and ears to hear, I am reminded of this reality daily. Both in my thoughts and in my actions I am self-centered and not selfless. I am sick and in need of healing.

How might I react to this realization of my dependency? Like a spoiled child, do I become angry and curse God or my fellow brothers and sisters?

I believe we are best served by choosing to emulate the beggar in Paris, who when confronted with a desperate situation, seemed to respond in humble acceptance. Realizing her need for healing deliverance -- for salvation --she responded by taking the best course of action possible: getting on her knees and begging for mercy.

This could be dumb

Apparently Neil Young has a new concept album coming out about electric cars. No one asked me but that seems pretty dumb.

Bowing Down

It's impossible for a man to exist without bowing down; such a man couldn't bear himself, and no man could. If he rejects God, he'll bow down to an idol - a wooden one, or a golden one, or a mental one. They're all idolaters, not godless, that's how they ought to be called. Well, but how could there not be godless people as well? There are such as are truly godless, only they're much more frightening than these others because they come with God's name on their lips.

-- Dostoevsky, The Adolescent

Despair masquerades around us in any number of forms, sometimes overtly, but most often bubbling subtly just below the surface of our lives. At the risk of making a rather extreme statement, it seems to me that any path that does not contain sustained repentance will ultimately lead to some form of despair. May God have mercy on us all.