contemplation, and Αγία Σοφία

My husband and I moved to the REC (Reformed Episcopal Church) earlier this year, after several visits as we were seeking to learn more and be more exposed to the historical and traditional aspects of the Anglican faith. We were also seeking a church that hadn't followed a majority of the Anglican world in ordaining women and homosexuals.

It felt like a breath of fresh air for a minute. Then the REC joined the ACNA, and many questions lept up, not only from us but from many Anglicans.

Now, again, I go to church with that lingering feeling in the pit of my stomach. A feeling of unrest, of distraction, not at all how I would like to be thinking as I enter God's house.

For me, as a woman, a mother, a Christian, I already have distractions at church. It is already a struggle to focus on Christ. Are my clothes right? Is my hair right? What do the other women think of me, as a woman, a mother, a Christian? These are things I shouldn't struggle with but do. I fight them down, and stand before Christ. I can fight that battle. As a mother, I'm always back and forth between keeping an eye on the children and trying to pray. I can deal with this as well, because I know God blessed me with children and it is my duty to raise them up to know Him. As a Christian, I struggle as well. Struggle to be holy, struggle not to sin, struggle to learn, struggle to love God as St. Matthew teaches-with my heart, soul, and mind.

I don't need further distraction keeping me from worship. I don't want to have questions when I receive the Eucharist.

My heart is with God. My soul seeks Him. My mind falters when I enter the church. Is this Christ's Church? Is this where I may know him most fully? Sometimes I wish that God did not allow man to create denominations. Though, at the same time, I know we would not be free, and we could not love Him as he created us to.

I've been asking God to forgive me for anything I've done or am doing to impede His guidance in this area. Shouldn't standing before God be a simple thing? Now my family must struggle to find out if we stand on solid ground, or sinking sand.

On another note, the kids and I studied Hagia Sophia today, which is a former patriarchal basilica of the Eastern Orthodox Church, later a mosque, now a museum in Istanbul, Turkey. Famous in particular for its massive dome, it is considered the epitome of Byzantine architecture. It was the largest cathedral in the world for nearly a thousand years, until the completion of the Seville Cathedral in 1520. The name of the church is from the Greek Αγία Σοφία, or "Holy Wisdom". It is the third church built on the site, as the other two were destroyed by riots. The church was the focal point of the Eastern Orthodox Church for over 1000 years, and the Church contained a large collection of holy relics and featured, among other things, a 50 foot silver iconostasis. In 1453, Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman Turks and Sultan Mehmed II ordered the building to be converted into a mosque. The bells, altar, iconostasis, and sacrificial vessels were removed, and many of the mosaics were eventually plastered over. How very sad. A church once dedicated to the Holy Wisdom of God (as the full Greek name implies) now stripped and defaced. There's a testament to the destructive fruit of mans' choices.

Come on, December.

On waiting in the dentist's office...

I need to have my wisdom teeth removed. I have hopes that I do not lose what little wisdom I have gained in the few years I've been around. I don't understand why they are called wisdom teeth if they do not fit and must be removed. I try not to think about the surgery because it is just plain unpleasant.

While sitting in the dentist's office reading endless magazines and text messaging my husband ceaselessly, which probably annoyed the other waiters in the room, I overheard a conversation between a mother and son who were also waiting. The boy was a teen, I thought. He spoke in an annoyingly soft and feminie tone, waved his hands about as he spoke, and had silly piercings (such as a shiny stud in his nostril, one through his eyebrow, top of his ear, etc). I must note it was also obvious beneath his tight t-shirt that he had nipple piercings. He was reading through home design catalogs and loudly exclaiming over things that were "darling" and "precious". I immediately understood his sexual identity. There was no if, an, or but about it. He was talking loudly about his father in Alaska, who works for a transportation/tourism company. He talked proudly of his father, until his mother sputtered, "Alan, he's a lousy bus driver, for Chrissake." I cannot stand people taking the Lord's name in vain nonstop, but that's another story.

I didn't completely gather that the mother and father of Alan were divorced until Mom got up to give the receptionist her insurance card and then rifled through her purse to get another card, and said, again loud enough for even the guy in the back of the office getting his teeth ripped out of his skull to hear her (and this guy was unsconcious), "Here's my other card. Hopefully his father has some coverage on him still. He could help somehow!" She said this with obvious derision. Alan kept his mascara covered lashes lowered and became even more engrossed in his fashion magazine. Mom then announced his birthday, and he interjected, "Mom, I'm not 20, I'm 21." She rolled her eyes, "Oh, right. You were with him over that birthday."

They went on to discuss fashion, which the mother was obviously pleased to be able to discuss with anyone, even if it were her MALE child. She also pointed out in her loud and extravagant way how at least Alan had gotten that scholarship (how many other kid's mothers' had pushed them to get good grades so they could get a $5,000 scholarship??) to offset her expenses. Alan agreed with her heartily, while he was crawling around on the floor searching for the back to an earring for at least 15 minutes.

I have step children. I will never speak ill of their mother in public.

But that's not my point. I was observing Alan, and realizing I am only two years older than him.

I think something has been lost in our culture, something to do with the sanctity of human life. I see sanctity in the Church, and I see love, care, and humility in the Church. I see people bowing to their Lord and taking their places with gentle and quiet manners. I see holiness uplifted, and sin vanquished. I see humanity, in place of vanity.

My final thought in this post is this: I was thinking, rather terrified, that the young man in the dentist's office will probably grow up to be an Anglican priest.

I'd rather be a lady.

Reading Victorian novels makes me wish I was born a long time ago, and was living out my life in an entirely different generation. Having an English accent would not have been so bad, either, though that has nothing to do with my favor.

I am currently a homemaker, raising 4 children and homeschooling. I had intended to stay at home and homeschool for a while, then slowly go back to school and eventually when the children were middle schools work so that they can experience an expensive private school education. That while was extended when we had another child. And could be extended again, as we do want another baby in the future.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a zoologist or a National Geographic photographer. Largely, my childhood was isolated and these interests came from the abundance of National Geographic magazines and videos handed down to me by my great-grandparents (whom I have mentioned in a previous post were very important to me). I remember sitting in the colossal barn where my grandfathers last horse-the others had all been sold-and the huge tractor he was too-aged to use sat, unused but obviously loved. Cobwebs extended from the stall of the old mare, up to the ceiling and then down over the mechanical beast, swaying in the breeze like threadbare flags of surrender. Surrounded by farm tools that were no longer in use, and showed it in thick layers of blood red rust, I poured over pictures of African women shirtless and working in fields, their faces full of piercings and tatoos, fascinated by their huge smiles. Stories of Jane Goodall living with gorillas spiked my interest. My small town Indiana upbringing, where life revolved around the RV and double-wide factories, seemed all the more abysmal as I considered articles that spoke of the vast world of which I had never heard. Going back home from the farm in Ohio, I dreamt of life beyond cornfields and country lanes.

Now the things I couldn't wait to leave and thought lacked all grandeur call me back. I've long since realized I am not cut out to be a zoologist. I've seen enough zoos. I don't want to be a field photographer, I'd rather be settled with my husband and children and take their portraits occasionally.

With childhood dreams seen unrealisitic, I don't know where to turn. I want a degree, but there seems so little left in the world to do that I think is at all important. I don't want to be in business, technology, or politics. Real trades don't seem to exist anymore. It's all corporate, bigger than life, reality show ugliness. I want to teach, but where? I am stuck in indecision.

I just want a big garden (without my neighbors fences tight against our property on all sides, so close they're all visible from the back door), a horse or two to whinny at us as we pull into our long dusty drive (no more cement driveway!), and to see my children running through fields of wildflowers. I don't think they'd understand that flowers sometimes grow by themselves in vast, colorful swatches along rolling hillsides, and that you can pick as many as you want. My children understand plants in pots, from seeds bought at K-Mart, and flowers aren't to be picked because they're so scarce here that one just wants to let them flourish for the few weeks or months they'll bloom.

I don't like this city life, this busy idea of life. I want idleness.

I could be a lady of old, sitting in my drawing room sewing, or strolling through the gardens, without retirement and insurance and college degrees to comtemplate. I want neighbors who don't avoid eachother out of fear.

Do you know the feel of cobblestone beneath your shoes? Whatever happened to cobblestone? I hate blacktop.

A thought

From a blog my brother in law and sister in law set me unto:

The Church existed before the New Testament was written – thus to name it by something that was created through it would be absurd.

Assumption

Newly Anglican, my family and I have been discovering the rich beauty of our faith together. Recently, my husband and I became aware of a Catholic and Orthodox feast, that being the death and Assumption, or Dormition, of Mary.

This feast celebrates the death of the Mother of God, Mary, and also that her body and soul were assumed into heaven.

I accept this, heartily. After reading many blogs and wikipedia snippets, and after examining the biblical examples (i.e Revelations 12, Psalm 132), I can very well see why it is possible and very worthy of celebration.

I am not speaking of an ascension, but of an assumption. For anyone who isn't familiar with the history of this celebration (I had never heard of it, growing up unchurched and then having been barely dabbling in the Church) might at first balk. There is a general disgust in the evangelical Protestant world for the veneration of Mary, one that is widespread. I have heard too many, "They worship Mary when they should be worshipping Christ!" That's just, to be blunt, stupid. Anyone who would spend five minutes looking up Catholic or Orthodox veneration of Mary should, if they are at least slightly intelligent, understand that prayers "to" Mary are prayers asking the Holy Mother to intercede on our behalf. Her holiness is recognized, and venerated, but there is no worship involved, other than worship of her Son.

Real quick, to venerate means to be in awe of, to respect, to revere. I think anyone who would deny that Mary deserves veneration also denies that she was "the ark of thy strength" (Psalm 32).

If we can as Christians readily agree that it is a matter of divine revelation that Enoch, Elijah, and possible Moses were assumed into heaven by God, then why not agree that Mary was assumed as well? The mother of our Lord, who was holy, favored of God, was not held by the grave. She died, and then, bound by the Commandment "honor thy father and thy mother" given to all men (being both Man and God) Jesus honored her by not allowing her to decay. I read an argument on another blog that read, 'Christ would not see Enoch and Elijah assumed into Heaven and then allow His very own mother to rot. The woman that bore Him, nursed Him, and stood by Him during His passion and death on the cross.'

The blog I linked to above also stated, 'Christ ascended by His own power. But Mary was passively assumed into Heaven by Christ. His power accomplished the honor. And thus in Revelation, Mary as seen as being "in Heaven."

Amen. If anyone actually reads this, I welcome comments that might further my knowledge here, and bring me to a greater understanding.