Icons - Liturgics

(An old school assignment of mine... posted to answer some questions for a good friend.)

Icons.  Immediately, you think of one of two definitions - either the two dimensional Saints in history textbooks, or simply an image which is familiar to you.  Taking the second definition, we can say icons are all around us;  the likeness of a celebrity plastered on a wall; the swoosh of the Nike symbol.  But, what about the first definition?  The gold-inlaid icons of old Christian Saints are unfamiliar to many.  For many, especially in America, they rarely appear in daily life. Why should we bother with them, then? They are just pictures, right?

They are not just pictures.  Their range of influence goes beyond the age of the Early Church, directly into modern Christianity.  The ancient purpose of icons still applies today - to act as windows and reflections of what they depict.  As Christians, our stance on icons is important to many aspects of the theology we hold.  It is a tell-tale to not only our stance on the material world, but also a direct reflection of our view on the Incarnation. In this case, it is especially beneficial for you to press out and explore the realm of icons and their uses.  Whether you choose to support icons or not, understanding the original purpose of them will be helpful in personal clarification.

Icons have caused and still do cause controversy among Christians.  The many views on icons can be summarized as simply the iconoclastic position (being against icons) and the pro-icon position (in other words, those who regard icons for spiritual use). 

Iconoclasm is usually associated with Reformed and Protestant branches of the church, although it is originally rooted in Nestorianism.  However, Calvin is most recognized for his contributions to iconoclasm.  In his Institutes he says: 

Hence it is perfectly clear that those who try to defend images of God and the saints with the example of those cherubim are raving madmen. What, indeed, I beg you, did those paltry little images mean? Solely that images are not suited to represent God's mysteries (Institutes 1.11.3). 

A majority of the modern Protestant church is much less extreme than Calvin.  So, much divide exists within Protestant branches on how icons should be used, their purpose, and their biblical standing.  Some groups say icons are wonderful pictures to depict bible stories, but their use and value ends there.  Others are against having any icons in their church walls, in their worship, or in their bibles period.  Also, an enormous amount of Western/Protestant Churches contain stain-glass windows, which are innately icons themselves. 

On the contrary, Eastern Orthodox are in support of the use of icons.  Although Eastern Orthodox Christianity did experience two iconoclastic movements in both 730 and 814 A.D., it has since never swayed from the traditions of icons and supports them vigorously.  Mount Athos, a mountain in Greece, is covered with only monasteries and contains a sum of 20,000 icons in its vaults for liturgical use. This is just one example that icons are a vital and unquestionable part of Orthodox worship.  The Second Council of Nicea gives a brief summary of the past, present and future Orthodox views on icons:

        For the honour which is paid to the image passes on to that which the image represents, and he who reveres the image reveres in it the subject represented.

In addition to what was said there, the Council of Nicea also said that icons themselves represent an Incarnation, they should be given reverence, but not worship, and they honor and represent the image they depict.  

Christ’s incarnation and the act of communion (in the sense of  both fellowship and the sacraments) are two vital parts of Orthodox theology.  In fact, they are also the original basis for the Early Christians and they considered these two sources as things which grew them in faith. So, I propose that the use of icons is nurturing in spiritual growth.

I come from a Calvinist background, and as my family and I began our transition into Orthodoxy, icons were a great confusion to me.  They were lovely pictures, but I didn’t understand why they were given such reverence and honor.  It made me uncomfortable that a material thing could hold so much spiritual meaning.  One day, as I was roaming throughout the church, I stopped in front of an icon of the Mother of Christ.  It was a peculiar image - she had her arms outstretched in a position of worship and in the place of her bosom was a ornately decorated circle with an image of the Christ child inside.   Around him were stars of different sizes, resembling the night sky on a clear summer’s night.  Fr. Barnabas found me staring at this icon.  Mary’s position represented her saying, “...be it unto me according to thy word.”  The reason the Christ child was depicted in a circle of stars, was to communicate that He is the ruler of the universe - uncontainable.  And, the reason this cosmic scene was placed in Mary’s bosom was because she “contained” the “uncontainable.”  In that icon, she represented what a true Christian should do - take Christ into their heart. Or, like the icon, “contain” the “uncontainable.” After less than ten minutes of him talking with me, I understood more about Christ’s nature, the role of Christians, and the importance of Mary in the Church - just through an icon. 

That is just one thousands of icons which hold the same meaning and importance.  Icons properly     represent and communicate the Incarnation of Christ and just by their very nature, reveal the incarnation as a truth to us.   Icons are physical things, but they communicate things which are transcendent to us - like Christ - He was 100% man, and 100% physical, but at the same time, He was still the uncontainable and 100% God.   As St. John of Damascus said, “I do not adore the creation rather than the Creator, but I adore the one who became a creature, who was formed as I was, who clothed Himself in creation . . .”

Also, icons support communion and fellowship.  At the very least, icons are are form of epideictic rhetoric - trying to portray and communicate that which cannot fully be communicated.  They are messages and windows.  Using or showing honor to an icon does not stop at the icon itself - it goes beyond that - it has deeper meaning, a connection to the person/scene being represented.  This seems like a complex theological topic, but it is actually something we experience daily.  

Do you have a framed picture near you?  A photo of your family, or sweetheart in your wallet?  Look at it - it represents a reality to you.  In and of itself, it is not the real person, but it connects you to someone who is or was very real.   One time a priest was speaking to a group of teenagers about icons - in the middle of the conversation, he removed a picture of his little girl from his wallet.  He kissed it and whispered, “I love you, sweetie.”  The class smiled and awed at the act of fatherly love.  Then he ripped the picture up.  They stared at him indignantly - full of righteous anger.  Then he said to them, “My children, icons are no different than that photo.  You were horrified upon seeing that photo ripped up.  Like that photo, icons also connect us to something special, something real, and something that we cannot comprehend hurting.”

Icons used in the traditional liturgical services of Eastern Orthodoxy may not be familiar to many, but icons themselves are not unfamiliar to the Christian world - in any branch of the church.  Stained glass windows, picture Bible’s, even small films - all those, although not Traditional, are icons.  Windows to the past, teachers of theology, and communicators of the Divine.  

Icons are a source of nurturing and growth for the spiritual life because they properly represent the  vital theology of the Incarnation and support and participate in a fellowship and communion with past and present Christians. 

Imagine yourself in the catacombs of Rome.  You are a young child, and since you can first remember this has been your home.  You quietly walk down a narrow hallway towards the main cave, in which a Liturgy is secretly about to begin.  Among many others on the stone walls is a crude icon of Christ.  Mother has always taught you that Christ really did become a man and He had a real face and real hands, but at the same time He was God.  And, this icon was really the only portrayal of Christ you’d ever seen in your life, the only evidence you had ever been given that He was both man and God.  The icon was your teacher, it was precious to you, and through it, you understood Christ and had a connection with Him.  That icon was a prayer.  You never prayed to it, of course.  That’s idolatry.  But, you prayed through it.

There will always be conflict, especially in Christianity, about how much is too much in regards to the material world and Divinity.  But as C.S. Lewis once said, “God likes matter. He invented it.” And icons represent, and will continue to represent that balance - that incarnation - that reflection of the Creator, through His creation. 

Music as Medicine - Liturgics

Music as Medicine - Liturgics 

In class today, after listening to Bach’s 2-3 hour “Matthäus-Passion” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVo6YUlwfeA), the topic of “church music” and its various implications, categorizations, and applications became the center of discussion. This, of course, can become a heated topic in the context of both Western and Eastern Christianity.  From old southern spirituals to the youth pastor’s jazzy rendition of “How Great Thou Art,” the realm of Western Christian music spans an enormous range of genres, theologies, and preferences--all serving different purposes. Eastern Christianity, on the other hand, stands strongly in musical tradition, maintaining the original “church music” with impressive consistency, for the most part. 

After addressing the basic categories of past and present church music and providing a vague definition of music as “that which expresses the inexpressible” we began to consider:  Which one is more “correct?” Is there a “correct” church music or utilization of it at all? What is the purpose of church music? What are the criteria to fulfill this purpose? 

With these questions came even more diverse answers, spanning from “No, no musical or theological standard exists in church music” to “There should be no church music at all.” In the end, though, we all agreed that church music, as a whole, fulfills these three basic purposes: 

-To include all the senses (the entire body) in worship, through the use of sound. 

-To unite the church in the participation of worship

-To unite the church theologically

Within this, though, the subtleties of opinions rise: what theology do you use? What kind of music do you use? Does one person lead the music or is it congregational? And so on... 

And then, someone played the devil’s advocate... he added a secondary purpose for church music: evangelism and sharing the gospel. In essence, the purpose of church music was simply to evangelize. 

This, of course, is too simple a purpose--the music is meant just as much for the congregation as it is for those outside of it. However, his point was fascinating. Can one of the purposes of church music be evangelical?

If so, then it seems to support the idea that church music itself must conform, or sympathize with the modern culture’s fluctuations in musical preference in order to make Christianity more “appealing” and “inviting,” thus seemingly strengthening evangelism. 

However, this is far from the case. It is true that one purpose of church music is evangelical, but that does not justify cultural conformity nor sympathy. In Romans 12:1-2, Paul states: 

Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.

Our spiritual service of worship (and thus our music) is instructed not to be of this world’s aimless desires. What does this look like? It looks like music which is not only solemn, but consistent in its technicalities and theology, while allowing for the participation and interaction of the congregation. Liturgical music fits this bill perfectly. After all, what does “liturgy” mean? It means the “work of the people.”

And yet, with this, how do we reconcile liturgical music and the presented evangelical purpose of it? In a world full of hundreds of musical genres and preferences, wouldn’t traditional music be a “turn off?” Wouldn’t contemporary music be more inviting and thus successful? 

No, in fact, traditional/liturgical music is the most effective form of evangelism. For, Christ refers to himself as the physician: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.” (Mt. 9:12) And since the church is His bride, she is also His hospital. This is something the Early Church Fathers emphasized greatly: the Church is a hospital.

If this is the case and if her (the Church’s) music is meant to be evangelical, then it must be assumed that her music is medicinal. Thus, her music cannot conform to the world, which is saturated in passions and carnal desires. For a medicine is meant to heal, it is not meant to promote sickness. A hospital and its medicine restores physical normality and consistency to a person’s life. In the same way, the Church’s music ought to restore spiritual normality and consistency to a person’s life. 

Liturgical music, specifically the Byzantine tradition of Church music, fulfills this characteristic of theological and spiritual consistency. Of course, the modern world in its pomp and glory may not find such staunchness attractive and such tradition appealing, but when it comes to Church music, “a spoonful of sugar” does not help the medicine go down. The Physician’s medicine requires no sweetener or supplement, it is, in its purest form, literal “music” to His patient’s ears. 

Theosis: A Path of Purging, Praxis, and Pondering

Hello all! I recently wrote this paper for an History/Literature/Theology (Omnibus) class and want to share it!  Please remember, the terms--especially the Eastern Orthodox ones--are being used vaguely and broadly for the purpose of the assignment (which was to discuss sanctification from a biblical, historical, and literary perspective, with a special focus on the current book we were reading: The Divine Comedy--all under a 2,000 word limit).  To gain a fitting and respectful understanding of Praxis, Theoria, Theosis and the Nous requires more in-depth study, explanation and application--a lifetime, really.  So, I highly recommend reading some of the links in my bibliography for further pursuit of the terms, as I was not able to expand on them in this paper. 

(Icon of The Theotokos of the Unburnt Bush, "Dante Following Virgil Up the Mountain" Gustave Dore, Superman Emblem, Illustration from Pilgrim's Progress) 

Theosis: A Path of Purging, Praxis, and Pondering 

It is said that you become most like the five people with whom you spend a majority of your time.  Why is this?  Humans were never created to be alone.  They only know themselves in the eyes of another—shaped by the people with whom they commune. In the same way, Christianity is not a religion of individuals.  Instead, Christians understand themselves as incomplete if they do not know themselves in the eyes of their Savior and the Church (His Body).  To become Christ-like is to keep company with Him and His Church--it is to gain a knowledge ofwho He is (theoria) and dedicate time and energy towards Him (praxis) in order to achieve union with Him (theosis).  The possibility of achieving theosis is distinctly possible for anyone since God’s Grace and Mercy pours in abundance over the world (John 12:32).  History and literature swell with stories of people moving towards perfection (wholeness) by achieving a personal knowledge of Christ through practice and work.  The Divine Comedy, Dante Alighieri’s magnum opus, is an example of one of these stories as it explores the concept of unification with the Lord through faithful practice and divine contemplation.  Praxis, for example, is union with God through not only faith, but the correct practice of faith, since as St. Maximus the Confessor once said, “Theology without action is the theology of demons."  Theoria, on the other hand, is a spiritual contemplation and knowledge of the divine which is not limited to merely the mind (gnosis), but extends throughout the entire person.  Dante indirectly examines these two terms and their relationship to becoming more Christ-like throughout his cantos.  His work, along with illustrations from the Bible, history and culture, show that unification with God (theosis), through the purging of sin utilizing praxis and theoria, is the natural purpose of man.

The Purge and the Dance--

Dante succinctly opens the second book of his Divine Comedy, Purgatorio, by saying, “I shall sing about that second realm where man’s soul goes to purify itself and become worthy to ascend to Heaven” (Dante 1).  Here, he sets the theme for the rest of the book—the theme of struggling and wrestling with one’s sins in the process of drawing closer to God.  Throughout the entirety of purgatory, the souls within work towards the purging of their sins through not only faithful action (praxis), but divine contemplation (theoria).  The top seven terraces especially demonstrate this as their occupants experience a physical catharsis through the presence of a whip of virtue (the Holy Virgin as chastity in the 7th terrace) and a bridle of sin (Pasipahe and the bull as lust in the same terrace).  However, they also experience something which is somewhat equivalent to theoria through their benedictions and prayers (such as “Blessed are the pure in heart”).  Although each canto and terrace within Purgatorio can serve as an example of sanctification through praxis and theoria, the 7th terrace is especially applicable.  In it, the spirits walk in flames.  They “must burn within the fire: the cure of flames, the diet of the hymns—with these the last of all their wounds is healed” (273, Canto V). 

Like the rest of the souls in purgatory, these souls must exert diligence in order to progress.  2 Peter 1:5-8 expands on this image of “diligence” in the midst of struggle and praxis towards unification with God.

“Now for this very reason also, applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge, and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness, and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they render you neither useless nor unfruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

This passage is often associated with dancing—a step by step flow of movement to create a work of art.  In the same way, Christians, struggle by struggle, action by action, work towards theosis--the completed work of human potential and purpose.  Achieving the qualities Peter mentions, ushers in a theoria—a true knowledge—of Christ.  Similarly, the souls in purgatory climb a ladder, virtue by virtue, quality by quality, to attain that knowledge and union in Paradisio. 

John Bunyan, a 15th century version of Dante, composed his own Christian “comedy” about a pilgrim as well: Pilgrim’s Progress.  The very title gives evidence of its purpose—that is, to demonstrate the Christian life as a path of purification and unification with the Lord.  One passage from the work is particularly relevant to 2 Peter 1:5-8 as well as the seventh terrace: 

“. . .The Interpreter took Christian by the hand and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter” (Bunyan 128-9)

Christian, after seeing this, queries what the vision means.  The interpreter explains to him that another man stands opposite the wall he sees pouring oil into the fire to nourish it.  This portrays the attacks of the devil on the fire of faith and Christ’s abundance of Grace to strengthen and nurture the struggling Christian in his path.  However, the fire represents not only zeal of faith, but a purging of the soul.  As fire removes dross from the silver to purify it (Isaiah 1:25), so is the human soul purged through praxis, theoria and Grace.  From here, a parallel can be drawn to the Theotokos, who is considered an icon of the burning bush from Exodus.  She contained “Fire” (Heb. 12:29) and yet she was not consumed, since she was pure.  Given this, it is of no surprise that the Virgin Mary is the “whip” of terrace seven—the terrace of fire.  In the same way, praxis and theoria are the fires which burn away the dross of our hearts, purging us so that we, too, can be pure and attain unification with God.

Simulacra and Divine Contemplation-- 

Canto XXX in the Divine Comedy is especially important to understanding theoria.  In it, the pilgrim Dante is reunited with Beatrice only to receive a stern reproof from her concerning howhe has spent his life and what he has contemplated in that life.  He “wandered from the path that leads to truth, pursuing simulacra of the good, which promise more than they can ever give” (325).  “Simulacra” is a key term in this excerpt.  Coming from the singular Latin word “simulacrum,” simulacra can be simply translated as “likenesses,” “similarities,” or even “simulations.”  However, throughout the centuries it has gained a much darker connotation.  A simulacrum of something is a faulty portrayal or misrepresentation of that thing.  In essence, a simulacrum is the opposite of an “icon.”  It is the clouding of clear vision and the distortion of the truth.  In many ways, it is detrimental to attaining theoria, which requires clear vision of truth for divine contemplation.

In this case, it is important to recognize simulacra in the world and to detach from it, to block it, to avoid it at all costs.  To be “in the world,” but not “of the world” is to move away from the simulacra—the faulty portrayals—of truth.  Romans 12:1-2 is a call to renewing the mind towards its proper focus, away from the distortions of the world:

“Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. . .”

Through this verse, St. Paul implores the Christians in Rome to attain theoria by presenting themselves as sacrifices for spiritual service (praxis) and to transform their minds (theoria)—looking outside of this world, yet remaining in it.  However, the word for “mind” in this verse does not mean the pithy organ that resides in the human skull.  Instead, it comes from the word “nous,” a word that cannot be translated into simply one English expression.  When St. Paul says, “I desire to speak five words with my mind so that I may instruct others also, rather than ten thousand words in a tongue.” (1 Cor. 14:19), the word for “mind” is “nous.”  In other words, it is the core of man’s existence.  It is the “energy of the soul” and when it “enters the heart and acts within it, there exists a unity” within the soul (Metr. Nafpaktos 35).  This is the part of the man in which theoria must be attained.  Grasping theoria within the nous affects the rest of the man, giving life and revealing truth through divine contemplation.  Beatrice criticizes Dante for not focusing on his “nous” and thus being distracted by the simulacra of the world--being in the worldand of it.    

A modern example of learning to block simulacra can be found in the recent movie “Man of Steel.”  Cal-al or “Clark,” as he is known on earth, is aware from a very young age that he is notof the planet Earth, but that he certainly resides in it.  From a young age, his human parents instruct him to learn to focus his great powers and abilities, since someday they must be used for a greater good.  Through mistakes and successes (praxis), Clark learns to focus (theoria) his power in such a way that gives him greater strength and understanding, as well as a deep sense of communion with humanity and his own world.  Of course, this movie was not didactic storytelling, but it stands as one of the many examples of people learning to “block” the distractions around them and focusing on a more important task. In this case, the task was to focus his energies and thoughts on a greater purpose. Christians, too, must focus their energies and thoughts towards a greater purpose: theosis—unification with the Lord. 

The implications Dante makes about the purging sin reverberate throughout time and literature, constantly echoing the same words: praxis and theoria; diligent work and personal knowledge.  From the fiery seventh terrace of purgatory to the fictional world of Superman, man’s redemption is painted in the combination of both action and thought for success and redemption.  The path to Salvation is difficult.  It is tedious. It takes patience in labor and humility in contemplation, but in the end, the fruits are sweet. The work of becoming Christ-like—theosis—is best expressed by C.S. Lewis when he says, “The command ‘Be ye perfect’ is not idealistic gas. Nor is it a command to do the impossible. He is going to make us into creatures that can obey that command. . . The process will be long and in parts very painful; but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what he said.” (Macmillan, 1952, p. 174, Mere Christianity).

Works Cited

Metr. Hierotheos, Nafpaktos. Orthodox Spirituality: A Brief Introduction. Fifth Edition. Levadia, Greece: Birth of the Theotokos Monastery, 2008. Print. 

Alighieri, Dante. The Divine Comedy, Volume #2: Purgatory. London, England: Penguin Classics, 1985. Print.

The New Inductive Study Bible - NASB. Eugene, OR: Precept Ministries International, 2000. Print. 

Bunyan, John. The Pilgrim's Progress. United States: Answers in Genesis, 2006. Print. 

Metr. Dr.Yazigi, Paul . "East-West Dialogue: Reference to Monasticism." Theoria & Praxis According to St Gregory Palamas. N.p., 2004. Web. 19 Dec 2013. <http://www.alepporthodox.org/files/writings-en/writings/006-Monasticism_in_Palamas.pdf >.

"Theosis." Orthodoxwiki. N.p., 2012 . Web. 17 Dec 2013. <http://orthodoxwiki.org/Theosis >. 

Fr. Romanides, John . "What is the Human Nous? Chapter 1 from Patristic Theology." Orthodox Christian Information Center . N.p., 2008. Web. 17 Dec 2013. <http://orthodoxinfo.com/phronema/patristic-theology-romanides-chapter-1-what-is-the-human-nous.aspx>.

A Lesson Learned From An Atheist

       The debate ended up taking a surprising twist.  I came into class and instead of a formal debate full of Cross-X, rebuttals and flowery statements, our teacher had decided to play the role of an Atheist and asked us to challenge him. I was utterly terrified because I had never had the opportunity to debate with an atheist (even a pseudo-one) at this level--that is, the very existence of God. 

The few so called “apologetic” articles and books I had perused about Atheism made the world much more confusing, complicated, and frustrating than seemed necessary.  What and who would I be facing? 

Of course, you have to have arguments--good old logic, right?  That pithy stuff in our brain that helps us win disagreements. 

So I used a few... 

Pulling from the acclaimed C.S. Lewis, I worked my way through a discussion about how man cannot find ultimate satisfaction on this planet--not limited to himself. 

Do you agree, sir? Yes. 

Moving on, then.  Do you believe that this lack of ultimate satisfaction has an ultimate solution? 

Perhaps.

That solution implying an outside and transcendent source of satisfaction? 

Perhaps.

       I kept trying to prove a knowledge beyond the mind--a knowledge not entirely tangible, but around us all the time.  Relational knowledge.  If he admitted that we were creatures who contain relational knowledge and pursued relationships, it would be an easy ride to “prove” God. 

       Then it hit me. No matter what I said, my arguments were unconvincing to him. My ideas were either “logically impossible” or “completely superfluous.”

I realized something quite shocking... no one can win a debate with an Atheist. 

If I do convince him in that short period of time, either he is not a true atheist or I am unconsciously placating to his philosophy. 

How in the world do you “win” a debate with an Atheist? 

That’s the thing--you don’t “win” it. 

The solution to ever bringing an Atheist out of atheism is found in relational knowledge, not proving a series of arguments.

There comes a point when, if you can't get the atheist out of his mind, then you must wait for him to experience something which is outside of his mind...

Or, you treat him in a way which is not simply rational. 

You don't give up on him, you don't become exasperated with him, you don't leave because he's too smart.  

You show, instead of tell, that knowledge is more than just rational. That there is something which cannot be explained or warded off by the mind. In essence, to convince an Atheist that relational knowledge (and thus God) exists, you must do more than just argue.

You must give him an experience.

An Atheist, at heart, is not looking to defeat you or prove the irrelevancy of the world. He is asking for you to knock on his heart, instead of strangle his mind.  Atheism is not a stance, it is a plea.

How do you handle an Atheist in real life?  You become their friend--truly their friend, not to convince or convert them. It takes significantly more time than a simple debate does... but that’s the most beautiful part of it. 

It is a series of building blocks, not a pre-made home.  It is a growth, not an explosion.  It is a refining, not a demolishing.

And perhaps this applies to far more than just Atheism. 

(Special thanks to Mr. Bart Martin and Fr. Andrew Stephen Damick) 

Weekly Creative Writing #18

My kinfolk tumble blindly across the universe - or, what we know to be the universe.  That is, this world... a collection of continents in the cradle of an immense sea. 

We are wisps of folded paper, written words, some stamps, a dried flower lovingly placed in our seams.  We are created the moment words are married to us... the moment a pen, a stylus, a pencil presses into us and creates our identity and determines our future.    

Our souls are thoughts, pleas and ponderings.  We are all different - unrepeatable, unique, never to be recreated in the same way.

Each of us experience a different story.  

Our creation is sometimes quick, as our creator speedily scribbles something and suddenly, we’re alive.  Then he folds us in haste and flurry.   We’re suddenly enveloped in paper, sealed and tattooed with numbers and stamps, then sent off.

Sometimes our creation is frightful.  We’re penned into existence among the black, light-depraved thickness of the night, in the trenches of a battle.  Rain stains our infantile existence but his tears rapidly mature us.  Again, we are sealed, but with trembling hands and tearful kisses... receiving whispered, tender messages that, unlike what we contain, will never be delivered. 

Then we are thrown in a sack, or a metal container, or letter box. 

From place to place we tumble and our dwellings are never permanent until we reach the hands of those our stamps and tattooed numbers have destined for us... You see, a human’s life begins in a home and then he or she begins to tumble around in the world.  But, us... our lives are spent tumbling until we find our home... and when we do:

Then some of us are eagerly ripped open - our seals broken and our souls read.  Some of us are handled with care.  Some of us are never opened. 

And then our dwellings become the desks of dear friends; under the pillows of sweethearts; the bedside tables of military families; in the hope chests of little girls, within a father’s wallet; used as a scholar’s bookmark, or sheltered in the folds of a grandfather’s Bible.  

And so we live... restless until we find rest, meandering until we are delivered, and riding on the winds of thoughts and hopes until we find our home in expectant hands. 

For the absolutely brilliant counterpart of this weekly themed creative writing project, visit: http://thebeatlesandblackcoffee.blogspot.com

Hemingway and Sentences

Ernest Hemingway leaves some confusion about how the words "same way" can be interpreted - some are martyrs, some die naturally, some received the death penalty, some are killed by disease.  

However, the essence is understood.  We all physically die.

How we die?  Again, that differs, but we do die.  Our story (here, at least) comes to a temporary end. 

In the same way he says our lives end, so do they all begin in the same way.  We are all born.  We all struggle for that first, laborious breath into the vast cosmos and our cries soon beckon for our dear mothers.  

Remember learning about sentences and punctuation in the first grade?  How a sentence - a proper, living sentence - begins with a capital letter and ends with a period?  

All the words and grammar inside that capital letter and period may be total rubbish or they may surpass Shakespeare’s genius.  Nonetheless, we all get a fair share.  Regardless of the sentence’s quality, it will always begin and it will always end. 

What lies between those two things distinguishes that sentence from every other sentence in the world.  What lies between the first letter and the period tells its own unique story.

Rather like a life does.

The verbs are especially important.  Haven’t our composition teachers asked us to use "strong verbs" in our sentences for ages?  To make our sentence interesting?  So that other will want to read it? 

“Strong verbs” and “strong actions” give our sentence dimension, depth, and style. 

They are rather like the “details of life” that Hemingway talks about, aren’t they?

Who knows, if a sentence is anything like a person's life - beginning and ending -maybe our composition teachers were teaching something beyond just writing.

Maybe something about life?

Of course, not that we should like “dangerously.”   “Strong verbs” are not rash, bloody, mindless things.  Rather, maybe they - like Hemingway - are trying to show that we must live “strongly.” 

Lastly, this saying to wrap up everything... =)  

Please comment with any additional thoughts! 

Weekly Creative Writing #`17

For Jessie. =) 

I am blind.  “Darkness” and “black” are not words to describe what I “see.”  In fact, a way to describe the nothingness my eyes give me does not exist.  I simply do not.  All my life, I have been denied from knowing the world through what you call “colour,” “dimension,” and “movement.”  And, contrary to what many may think, I do not consider the absence of sight a “void.”  It was just never there and so other things took its place.  

I like to think my sister took the place of my sight.  Not literally, of course, but it is a lovely thought.  I would much rather have no ability to gaze on the world, than to lose her.  For with her, I can see the world so much more beautifully than if I my own eyes were freed. 

Her laugh, for instance, is entirely infectious and sweeter than any bells you will ever hear.  It is all the colours I cannot see.  Yellow, pink, and light blue (apparently that is the color of the sky?) are the colours her laugh paints when she is happy.  She says those are “happy” colors.  Reds and oranges - a stifled, angry, and sarcastic snicker.  Deep blue, green - a melancholy sigh.  Black - no sound.  White (she says white is all the colours in the world together), so I like to think white is when she’s happiest, when the world is most at peace. 

She is always moving.  I cannot see it, but I don’t need to see movement to feel the energy it gives off.  She loves dancing.  And, no doubt, everything is brighter when she does - twirling and jumping around like she does.  That wonderful energy and happiness is released into what I feel is a heavy, burdened world - giving it some hope, some rest in the midst of its struggles.  And, swimming.  She adores it and she is fantastic at it, I hear.  I’m not surprised at all.  I have been swimming a few times.  The water certainly holds you up, yes, but if your spirit is not light and trusting, it will sink into the depths of fear - fear of the water, fear of the world, whatever. But it will sink.  That’s why I know she is so good at swimming - her spirit is light. 

She is an old soul, though.  She laughs like a newborn and dances like a fairy, but her mind and heart are so much older, so much deeper, and hold so much more dimension than anything else in the world.  She talks to me about books - how the older they feel and smell, the better they are.  Old books are trustworthy books.  Many times we sit and talk about God, heaven, philosophy and the patterns of our lives.  She willingly takes up those discussions with the wisdom of an elder, yet the vigorous humility of a childlike heart.  You want true dimension and depth?  Go find her and talk to her about the world.  Trust me, though I may not be able to perceive the depth of an ocean, I promise you she is even deeper than it.  

So, I guess I really can see colour, movement and dimension... a part of them that most of world is blind to, yet which my sister helps me see. 

The Happiest of Birthdays to my little sister today!  Χρόνια πολλά, αδελφή μου!   This specific writing is dedicated to her - an exercise in trying to describe her as if I was blind.  I am thankful that my reality isn’t blindness, but I want you all to know that everything said about her is truly reality. 

For the fantastic counterpart of this weekly themed creative writing project, visit: http://thebeatlesandblackcoffee.blogspot.com