WHEN WE STOP SEEKING

I skipped church tonight. I was tired of Reverend Brewer's tone and I felt I would go in and be annoyed again tonight. However, a funny thing happened. In going to the gym and staying at home tonight, I feel a bit of a vacuum within me, a lack. Even though I have felt anger at my pastor's sermons recently, there remains something important to the act of going in and sharing in communal worship that I have missed this week.
I truly believe in doing God's work, in the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats, that God is in the lowly people and our job is to care for the needy and work for justice. No wonder I feel so far off-course: I spend my day in a corporate job, am not doing any volunteer work and my preoccupations are with the debt that I've accrued myself, rather than the needs of others.
Lord, I pray that though I harbor anger or pain sometimes at how some profess their faith, that that anger may never get in the way of my seeking you out. I've heard it written, "You would never have sought me had you not already found me," and it's true. I have experienced enough of your grace that I continue to seek you out. Let me not become complacent in a life absent of you, but rather walk on seeking to do your work and live in your sacred communities, whether it is a church, a friendship, or simply that moment where I have an exchange with a homeless man on the corner asking for change.

CAFETERIA CHRISTIAN

"Cafeteria Catholic" was a nickname I often heard as a kid for more liberal Catholics. It meant people who obeyed only the Catholic rules they liked and ignored the others, like students on a cafeteria line picking out lunch. Inherent in the derisive term was the notion that an ideal Catholic, or Christian for that matter, should listen and obey all of Jesus' teachings.

However, as I get older, I realize that almost all of us are "Cafeteria Christians." Most of us do not consider it adultery for couples to divorce and marry others. We don't see it a sin for a widow to remarry. We see the complexity of relationships and the difficulties in them, the fact that sometimes they don't work. We don't expect the woman to completely submit in a relationship either.

We don't automatically condemn the wealthy to hell, even though we've heard Jesus say plainly that it'd be harder for a camel to pass through a needle than for a rich man to get into heaven.

There are those who say we must follow the Bible to the letter, but even they usually decide how much of the Gospel to adhere to based on their values.

I think most Christians today have a somewhat tense relationship with Jesus' advice : on the one hand we revere Jesus as the son of God, but we, and I think everyone, have times when his words put us ill at ease. So we practice selective obedience.

Do we betray our faith by not following it to the letter?

Have we sworn an oath to obey every word?

I think of the words that I speak in every mass, which include believing in Jesus Christ as the son of God, and God himself. And that God is first and foremost my Father. But do I swear allegiance to his every word? No. I swear humility and reverence to the words, but never complete obedience.


As children, we are advised to listen to our parents' advice and learn from it, as the words of those who want the best for us. However, as we mature, we combine that advice with other realities, other experiences, and we go our own course. We build our own beautiful lives, and we disobey, not out of hatred, but out of our natural need to determine our own destiny. Chalk it up to original sin, if you want, but it is in our nature to seek our own truth.

So what am I saying? I'm saying that I don't think being Christian means I need to aspire to complete obedience of every one of my Father's edicts.


Instead, I ask my Father to understand, as a loving father would, that every child must become an adult and pave his own way, taking their creator's advice with thanks, considering it seriously, with love and respect, and applying it as best we see fit in the lives we live.
This manner of acting isn't always encouraged in our church: sometimes I feel like the clergy do not acknowledge the maturity of the laity. It often seems like we are talked to more like infants, and if we would just shut up and suck on our Father's bosom, everything will be fine.


That kind of treatment can only work for so long. When I visit my father's house, I hope to find love, comfort and encouragement, and give the same. I will always be proud to be God's child, but I would hope he would no longer expect the mindless love of an infant.


So yes, I am a cafeteria Christian. I pick and choose the advice I take with me on my way forward, with love and reverence, but not always agreement. I would hope my Father wishes me well on my journey, and that like the Prodigal son, in the end I well be welcomed back home.

Dear God,
I'm angry at you tonight. And I think being angry makes perfectly good sense. My mother is obsessive compulsive, bipolar and right now struggling with a skin disease all over her body. My sister is in rehab, and miserable towards me very often. I no longer wish to be living here, nor to be doing the work that I'm doing. And I am only getting by sometimes through perseverance, through grace.
I feel like I fucked up my life by going to NYU and taking on loans my second year. I'll be in debt over 30,000 and climbing for years. Sometimes all I can see is the down side, the deprivation, and my so-called mistakes.
What was funny about tonight's candlelight service was that at first I was enjoying it. I was inspired by the Christmas music and reveling like others in the congregation. But when the pastor, Rev. Brewer, got on the pulpit and started talking in his usual sensitive, loving, surrendering, submitting, open, vulnerable, generous peaceful voice about opening ourselves to the love of God, I found myself wanting to choke him. Because right now life is hard. It feels like the way I'm surviving from day to day is just by building a thick skin.
I don't blame God for what's happening to me now. I don't. But I also don't claim there's a purpose to it, or a reason. I believe God can help us make something good out of the situations we find ourselves in. And I do believe in submitting. But I also think that for a savior, he falls far short of my expectations on a regular basis. It's like that Tori Amos song, "God, sometimes you just don't come through."
In this season, the thing that gets to me most is the talk of Jesus as Savior. I think that title is the most annoying one of all of them. I can accept Son of God, but Savior at times annoys me even more because I don't see the evidence of his salvation. I think I've seen it in the past, but lately in my life, I have not seen it. Maybe that's the first part of the problem- my separation from the evidence. There may be some good evidence of where God's grace has indeed saved people. I wish somebody would show me the evidence.
I said it once before when I was living in DC, struggling with my faith. There was a song that came on with the lyric, "What I need to see is Jesus in the real world." Lord, give me eyes to see and ears to hear where you are making a difference, not just in charity but in justice, not just in words but in deeds, and not just in hope but in change. For I am impatient, justifiably so, given my short life. Give me reasons to believe, besides beautiful music on Sundays. Show me that that homeless man I see on 42nd Street every morning is going to be fine, and that predatory lending agency will be shut down. Show me your justice. And yes, please make me a channel of your peace.

Happy returns

For the last few weeks, I've been finding myself a church home at Calvary Church, the Episcopal Church on Park Avenue, where I've found a good group of young Christians, compassionate, energized and open-minded. There was something else about today that woke me up from the slumber of "I want to die, I want to die..." I found myself seeing the pain of the homeless, but also the fact that there are many people passionate about being servants of the poor, and hopeful that there is a way to truly end poverty, or at least reduce it. There are those who realize that injustice need not be tolerated, and that there is a better way to live.
When I worked for St. Charles, it was partly about this wish to do justice and to live in community. And the ability to stand up for justice, even when you fail in your efforts, at least keeps you aware of where you stand. Lately, in trying to keep my job and my worries about my finances, I have not had time to even think about the fact that one of my greatest joys comes in service and working for justice.
All that Gospel talk penetrated, I guess.

WHAT'S WORTH CUTTING OFF?

This evening, I returned to church at Church of the Ascension. It's only been three months since my last visit, but this summer has seen enough change that it felt like an eon. The Gospel tonight was Jesus’ advice to the disciples that they should “cut off” any part of them that causes them to stumble, whether an eye, a hand or a foot. It spoke to me about how important it is to Jesus that we learn to shed that which holds us back in our journey. There’s a real ruthlessness about that in the Gospel; he tells us to leave our possessions behind, take only the one cloak and walking stick, and “hate” our own families in order to follow him completely.

I used to mock the Catholic fasting during Lent: I felt that if something was worth giving up for Lent, then why not give it up permanently? However, there’s something to their practice of sacrifice. We can’t be everything to everyone. And I do wonder what it is that might be holding me back from being completely loyal to my faith. If there was one thing I wish I could cut off, it would be my own anxiety and worry, which I believe causes me to stumble in my faith.

“Be still and know that I am God,” I have heard, and I repeat that advice so often to myself when I am troubled. If I could cut off or shed any one thing, it would be that anxiety, and tendency towards easy distraction. I would pray that in learning to be still, I would find myself talking to God less and hearing Him more.

Faith in troubling times

I seem to be dropping off the mark recently. I apologize if this blog is turning into more of a diary, but I don't think it was my objective here to just be talking about faith issues in some academic/abstract sense. I meant to engage the stuff of staying alive in our faith, and living our lives with the strength and grace of God in us. So I consider my difficulties in doing that as important as my insights.

I seem to be in a bit of a draining situation right now, where the job that I have satisfies me little and my home situation is rather isolated and often tense. I've worked since March at TeleNoticias, a Spanish-language PR firm, and I moved home to Hastings, initially in prep to leave the city for an internship in San Francisco. After realizing I had to turn that internship down because of its low stipend, I found myself in the uncomfortable situation of living at home with no sense of when I'd be out, while being at a job I wanted to leave.

Since then, I've gotten significantly more depressed and tense, especially after my sister suffered another manic episode and was rehospitalized for the fourth time for her bipolar disorder. Since her release, my family's often been a battlefield between her need to be treated like an adult at 23, and my parents' desire to make sure she's not going to do herself any damage through excessive drinking or drugs. I've been in the middle of it, trying to be on everyone's side, which is kind of tough.

Where is God in this? I reached out to NYU's Episcopal chaplain John Merz last Friday and we spoke about it. He's actually been in a similar situation in his own family: his older sister is bipolar and his anger/pain with her and his parents is very similar to my own, and more intense than mine. Merz suggested the important thing for me to do was to find a way to move out of my home. That's actually the same suggestion given by my priest, and my boss.

I'm doing what I can in that regard, and in the meantime, trying to make sure I'm not getting fired from my job. It's very isolated work for me, being in an office all day by myself. My boss is helpful, but I can see he's growing frustrated with me as my questions are often vague. I think I'm giving him the impression that I don't understand very well what I'm doing, and that's often very true.

Today, he told me that I needed to become more of a self-starter and if I see projects going on, not only ask if I can help, but know the details of projects from the checklists I've got and ask where he is on steps A,B,C and whether I can help on them or steps D,E,F. David very much wants detailed questions and detailed informed offers to support him. It's stressful for me, but I'll work to get better.

I think God comes in forgiving myself for not being perfect, for being stressed, for being frustrated, and perhaps unprepared. God comes in helping me see that my work performance does not reflect my value as a man, and in remembering that my tense state of mind does not have to take over my soul as well. It's a damn tough thing to find balance when both work and home have the potential to drive you crazy, but I'm working at it. And I know that every glimmer of strength that comes through me is a gift from God.

Trials and troubles

Ever feel like you're just beset on all sides? That's how I'm feeling recently. My sister has been released from a mental hospital for the fourth time. My mother continues to be one of the most difficult people I have to deal with, especially because of her bipolar disorder and other mental illnesses I do not have the strength to go into here. My father suffers from depression, and now in the midst of my sister's illness and my mother's illness, and his own relative lack of work, he has been sinking. And I am only a man, able to do only so much without cracking.

Now as my loans from grad school begin to mount up and I see the damage that I have done to myself, the debt I've accrued, I feel increasingly trapped. I will no longer be able to afford my health care that I just got, because thankfully my boss seems willing to increase my hours. Meanwhile, I'm not sure I can afford moving out of my parents' house because of the payments I have to make for my lonas, plus whatever health care I'll need to get. And even if I can move out, I don't think I'll be able to save too much money.

Meanwhile, the job still sucks and I am sick right now, though it's just a minor head cold brought on by excess stress, lack of sleep, and bad air quality in my room.

It is so difficult for me to move through the ordeals with any sense of peace. It is more like I try to escape the ordeals, get a momentary reprieve, and then feel like I'm right back in hell again. I so want to feel free, but living at home, working a job I don't like, and being in debt makes me feel so trapped.

Every time I stop to pray, I don't feel like I'm doing it right. Or rather I feel it's not enough. And I honestly feel so overwhelmed by the burdens that I don't believe faith is enough. For I feel I lack some kind of wisdom about the world and how it works, and have made too many mistakes.

Yet I'm only 30 years old. I wish I was feeling like my life was just getting started. I do not feel that sense of possibility and potential. I am more living in a state of regret, resentment, anger and pain, and I wish I could find relief.