Gay Marriage & Lowest-Common-Denominator Morality

        

Though I am a bit late posting on this topic (in the sense that the peak of the hoopla surrounding this issue ended over a month ago), I though it necessary to point out something that I have yet to see discussed elsewhere...

I don't intend to write much on this topic, as discussions of gay "marriage" from an Orthodox standpoint are all over the place right now... some very good, others questionable.  However, there is one pro-gay marriage argument that I think needs to be central to this discussion:

Over and over again, I hear people ask, "How do marriage between same-sex couples affect you?"  The question is rhetorical with the assumed answer being, "They don't."  This answer is not true... Gay marriage affects many things which impact the lives of other people.  But even if gay marriage did NOT have a direct affect on others, I still think that it's necessary to answer this question with another question: "Is this really the standard for morality that we wish to place on ourselves?"

In other words, this question assumes that our morality is based solely on the affect one's behavior has on another.  If I hit you, my action has negatively affected you, and such an action then ought to be illegal.  If I decide to wear terribly uncomfortable shoes, though, this may be a bad personal choice, but it has no ill effects on my neighbor.  Thus, no intervention of law or moral standards in society are necessary.  The concept is simple... or so we believe.

The truth is, there are MANY thing that virtually any person in the world would not like to see occurring around them which they believe morality directs us to avoid... even going so far as to make them illegal.  Public nudity, for instance, is largely eschewed, as most certainly public sexual acts would be.  We wouldn't allow our neighbor to use his lawn as his own personal outhouse.  This goes even further.  In NYC, for instance, Mayor Bloomberg attempted to ban large sodas and "sugary drinks"... a ban he found far more support for than I thought there would be.  He attempted to make an argument that the government ought to be involved in making good decisions for others where he felt they might make bad decisions, instead.  Much of government activity, in fact, centers on this principle today.

The questions of how gay marriage affects others is a question with a faulty - and dangerous - premise: that all activity that does not directly harm others should be legal and accepted.  But nobody with a sound mind, I believe, can deny that what goes on in society affects society as a whole.

Take this scenario: Image twin brothers, age 15, both with very similar values and personalities.  Image that they are split up and place on two very different islands.  On one island, the nuclear family is very much intact.  Churches are attended every Sunday, traditional values are widely-held.  A spirit of personal responsibility, a hard work-ethic, and high moral standards are the status-quo.  What little there is of a presence of television contains family-oriented shows, movies devoid of sex, cursing, or explicit violence, and educational documentaries.  On the second island, broken families are the norm.  Beyond this, many youths drop out of school for a life filled with drugs and alcohol.  Loose sexual relations are the norm, and pornography is everywhere.  Television contains sexually-charged shows and mindless violence, almost without end.  Aggressive and violent video-games are the national pastime for youths, though many adults play them as well.  Now imagine that, 15 years after being taken to these islands, they are brought back together...

Would we expect these now 30-year-old men to look, think, or act very similarly?  Of course not.  Though none of the activities are either island are said to "directly" affect others, the truth is that the general morality that surrounded the boys were starkly different.  These things do affect us, whether we like it or not.

The goal for any government, then, is to uphold the highest standards of morality and let people decide whether they want to follow it or not.  To ask "How does 'X' negatively affect your life?" opts instead for the lowest common denominator of morality... This is a dangerous question because it betrays a dangerous premise, and this premise ought to be passionately challenged whenever it pops up.

What the Simpsons can teach us... (part I): Simpsons and Clergy dress

This will not really be a 2-part post... The two posts, though mentioning The Simpsons, really have nothing to do with one another.  However, during Lent, many Facebook posts by Orthodox Christians excitedly contained this picture from a recent Simpsons episode:

                 

One of my initial reactions to this was to notice that the traditional serpents on the bishop's staff were turned into a mustache, but that is neither here nor there.  The more profound impact of this image for me spins off of what many others stated about it.

For many Facebook users, this image showed that Orthodoxy is now becoming more recognizable... more "mainstream," though I dislike and disagree with that particular term.  However, if the writers and artists of The Simpsons could make this joke, many felt this was evidence of some great headway for Orthodoxy in America.  This may, indeed, be the case.  For me, however, something else stuck out.

Notice, here, what the figure, intended likely to be an Orthodox priest but in reality an Orthodox bishop, looks like: He wears a rasso and a beard.  The figure could have been wearing a suit and a collar, but those in charge of the image associated a certain look with Orthodox clergy.  This look was representative of Orthodoxy for those who are most likely not Orthodox themselves.

I will likely post my thoughts on clergy dress more extensively in the future, but I thought this pop-culture Easter egg (sorry for the bad pun) said a great deal about how the heterodox and largely secular West views Orthodoxy... We are distinguished by our church architecture and our clergy's dress.  We are often told that the rasso, long hair, and a beard are "out of place" in America and that Americans associate the suit and collar with being a priest.  Here, however, we see that, at least for some, we are recognized by the very things that set us apart, that make us appear, according to some, "out of place."  Perhaps we should desire standing out and desire Orthodoxy being associate with a look - and feel - that is not found in other denominations...

As a side note, because I mentioned the word "feel," I couldn't help but notice this express this bishop was given:  that all-too-familiar peaceful, almost stoic demeanor.  I am not a fan of The Simpsons, but I confess that I was impressed with how they captured this.. and that, even in America were Orthodoxy is not well known, the presence Orthodoxy does have relayed this look.  This bishop is not presented as a scholar or intellect, nor as a crazy zealot... He is just a man quietly observing his Faith, probably kind and gentle, but faithful above all else.  This is an image that indeed speaks volumes...

We're Back!

After an unexpected and rather lengthy hiatus, I have returned to post again.  Hopefully, this will not become a common occurrence, but situations dictated the long silence.  I am eager not to let this blog be like others which last only as long as the blogger's short interest... My interest is longer, for one... but sometimes my abilities and resources, unfortunately, are not.

I am rather ashamed to have posted nothing during Great and Holy Lent, but I pray to have many years to correct that mistake.  So, let us begin anew!

Depicting the Father

A very common and popular topic of discussion is whether icons of the Holy Trinity in which the Son is depicted next to an Old Man, or the Father, under a Dove, Which is the Holy Spirit, is a result of Westernization in Orthodox iconography or whether it is a legitimate and fully orthodox representation. Can the Father be depicted as such?

                                 

In reading about this topic, I often came across offhand remarks condemning the depictions though with little explanation of why (other than we are not to depict the Father).  Then, I came across other Orthodox sources which scoffed at such condemnations, declaring that such commentators were themselves captive to Western theological frameworks and that the true Tradition of the Church was to sanction and venerate such images.  Well, I was happy to come across this article which, I believe, settles my mind on the issue.  I hope you find it as enlightening as I did...

The Ancient of Days in Orthodox Iconography

Enjoy!

Reading Chrysostom...

Way back, just before my seminary days, I remember how excited I was to begin reading St. John Chrysostom. I had heard so much about the Golden-mouthed and was only just learning how much of the Fathers' writings were actually in English.  I had been informed that I needed to be careful, though, as some translations made him far more readable than others.  I knew, then, that the Nicene/Post-Nicene Fathers set was considered by most to be a bit archaic and stilted in its language.  I was too eager, however, to wait to purchase the CUA Press version of his Homilies on the Gospel of John when I had the other version at my fingertips, so I cracked open the book and began to read.  

The language didn't much bother me; the content, however, did.  This is not to say in any way that I found what St. John said to be at all objectionable.  Instead, I had gone in expected one thing and ended up getting another.  I suppose what I expected was something more like Fr. Lawrence Farley's current commentaries (which I generally find to be excellent) in The Orthodox Bible Study Companion series.  With each verse or chunk of verses, he gives succinct and insightful commentary.  Every page contains a plethora of facts, insights, and interpretation, often providing me with multiple ideas for sermon topics.  Of course, his commentary is based on various commentaries of the Fathers along with a large deal of historical/critical features, so he had a wealth of source material that St. John Chrysostom did not have, but St. John was and is a God-bearing Saint, illumined by the Holy Spirit.  His commentary was certainly something magnificent, but I couldn't yet understand why.

It turns out that I was not alone in this thought.  When I went to seminary, many of my fellow seminarians mentioned similar things.  This confusion was not limited to Chrysostom.  I remember a class in which everybody read St. Athanasius' On the Incarnation.  C S Lewis, in his introduction to the text in the SVS Press version, comments that, when he first read the work, he knew he held in his hands a masterpiece.  Many of us read it and thought, "That's it?"  

This wasn't a confusion based in pride, mind you.  We were genuinely confused in that we expected one thing and got something else.  For some, however, including myself, this "something else" was known to be higher and beyond our own comprehension.  We didn't understand the greatness not because it fell short of our expectations but because it exceeded them beyond our ability.  Sometimes, you must be quite brilliant (or very filled with the Holy Spirit yourself) to see something as complex even if it appears simple, to see it as multi-layered and full when you see it as straightforward and simple.

With St. John Chrysostom, this confusion was doubled, as he seemed able to spend many minutes on a single point that could be related in one sentence.  He was verbose to such an extent that, after 10 minutes of reading, one felt like only one or two insights had been gained, at best.  Eventually, however, a few things changed.

First, I took a class on St. John Chrysostom in my last year at seminary.  The professor would read a sentence or two of Chrysostom's commentary (mostly his commentary on the Acts of the Apostles) and would fawn over them for many minutes, praising Chryostom's brilliance and explaining the wisdom of his words.  I heard one student comment that this class should have been called "a professor's commentary on St. John Chrysostom's commentary on Acts."  This wasn't, however, an insult.  It was a brilliant class.  It left me desiring more, every week.  With this class, I began to see that, the reason I hadn't fully appreciate Chrysostom was because I was attempting to read him like I would any modern author.  Over time, I developed a few principles which I follow when reading St. John:

1) One of the key's to reading Chrysostom is to read him slowly and carefully.  I once read his homilies concerning the incomprehensible nature of God.  I read one of the homilies at a regular reading pace and thought, about 2/3 of the way through, that there wasn't much as far as content went.  Then, at the end of the homily, he recounted, point by point, all of the arguments he had made.  I was astounded.  He had said so much, and I took it as so little.  Now, I read him as if listening to him, trying to take in each word at a methodical and steady pace.

2) Don't go into a text of St. John Chrysostom with a question or questions you are hoping he answers.  I do this with homilies sometimes.  I come upon a difficult passage of a Gospel or Epistle or am asked a question by a parishioner (or, more often, a challenge by a non-Orthodox) and I open a commentary of St. John's hoping for a specific answer.  Most of the time, I find that he was looking at the text from a completely different angle... and a more beneficial one, at that.  It's not that we should not have questions, but we need to read trying to find out what St. John wanted to say, not hoping that he addressed our specific concerns.

3) Learn to appreciate his approach to Scripture.  St. John asks questions that I wouldn't have asked and answers questions in ways that I wouldn't answer them... and he always has the upper hand.  His ability to bring out the proper interpretation of Scripture by using other verses or his tendency to explain the minds of the subjects of Scripture with such confidence is something that only the truly experienced and holy among us could - and should - do.  We should read St. John trying to truly discover what he already has.  If we read a homily through and are unable to answer the questions he posits, we've missed the heart of his talk.

4) Learn to ask the questions that he is answering, even when he doesn't provide the question explicitly.  This is very difficult to do.  To explain what I mean, let me go back to St. Athanasius' On the Incarnation.  When I read contemporary theology concerning salvation and the many questions pertaining to it from Catholic and Protestant theologians, I am frequently shocked at how often St. Athanasius' work corrects their misconceptions and false interpretations.  But he wasn't speaking to them directly.  If we constantly ask, however, "What are the alternatives to this thought?" we begin to see that the Patristic text teaches far more than it seems.  St. John Chrysostom may say something that doesn't seem all that profound until we realize that there are endless other ideas out there today in conflict with his thought.  What may be clear and obvious to us may not be to others; further, it may only be clear and obvious to us because we don't see the alternatives.  When we learn to see Chrysostom in the light of so many false teachings around us, we begin to understand and appreciate his orthodoxy to a much greater extent.

5) St. John's approach to Scripture and the Faith reveals the Mind of the Church.  We too often today hope to walk away from a text with a list of facts to memorize.  Very often, Chrysostom does not offer us those facts.  What he does offer, however, is far more significant and far more valuable.  When we delve into his God-illumined heart and mind, we learn to think the way he thinks and (hopefully) live the Faith the way he lived it.  He reveals to us the Mind of the Church.  When we truly learn the Mind of the Church, when questions arise that a particular Father may not have answered, we will still know what their answer would be, even if not in their exact words.

6) Finally, we ought to read Chrysostom always with the practical in mind, just as he always provides practical guidance, even in the most theological of his homilies.  Chrysostom was a brilliant teacher, to be sure, but he was also a brilliant shepherd.  He is able to go from an obscure theological point to an admonish against the passion of anger seamlessly so that, in the end, we don't know how he got to where he is.  If we read St. John Chrysostom without asking, "How ought this affect my life?" we are missing a great deal, including his central hope for our salvation.  As a pastor, Chrysostom has much to give, if only we will receive it.  

These are the general principles I try to follow when reading Chrysostom, and they have helped me tremendously to not only admire this great Saint but to truly love him.  In truth, one can't simply read Chrysostom; one must breathe him.  We must make his mind our mind, his heart our heart, seeing with his eyes and hearing with his ears.  When we immerse ourselves in his Spirit-filled words rather than simply looking for facts and answers to specific questions, we learn so much more and benefit far beyond our expectations.  I pray that, for the readers of this, you will learn from my mistakes and recognize the depth of this Saint, so that you too will fall in love with reading Chrysostom...

Challenging Premises: Extremism

One of the ongoing themes of this blog will be that we must learn to question premises if we are going to be a truly thinking culture.  We often argue political and religious subjects based on terms given to us... but these very terms are very often problematic at the least.  If I ask, for instance, which is the best tasting meat of all, steak or chicken, you may challenge the terms by stating that there are many other types of meat which one might consider "best."

In politics, one of the key terms that always seems to pique my interest is the word "extreme."  We are often asked asked to debate - and more often told - whether particular politicians or political opinions or movements are "extreme."  The problem is, something can only be considered extreme left or right depending on where your political "center" is.

Take, for example, the Tea Party.  The Tea Party movement has been based more than anything upon the themes and beliefs of the Founding Fathers of this country.  Though certain Tea Party adherents have deviated with their own ideas here and there, the main thrust of the movement has been for lower taxes, smaller government, greater State, local, and individual liberties, a move toward greater personal responsibility, and the preference of local charities and social apparatuses over government welfare.  None of these would have been challenged by any of the Founding Fathers.  They are the very principles of the Constitution of this country, either directly or indirectly.  And yet, the movement was labelled as "extreme" throughout the media.  How can this be?  To the Tea Party members, their views were "middle of the road."  They weren't unreasonable in any way.  Their vision of the political spectrum could be seen as such:

<Left (large fed gov't) -------- Center (Federalism w/ limtd centrl gov't) -------- Right (libertarianism) >

For the Tea Party activist, extreme right would be libertarianism or (further to the right) anarchy, or lack of any governing body.  This is a fairly simple diagram also of how the Founding Fathers viewed their political views.  The Articles of Confederation were a bit too far to the right; the Constitution created a Republic that fit properly and comfortably in the middle of the spectrum.  For the media, however, (and most Americans today) their center has shifted very far to the left.  Their spectrum would look more like this:

<Left (Communism) -------- Center (Large federal gov't / semi-Socialism) ----- Right (Federalism) >

Thus, when someone claims political "extremism," more often than not this is telling you more about their politics than their subject's.  The term, in fact, is mostly used to discredit a position so that one does not have to engage it... It keeps one from being exposed to the criticisms of one's opponents.  It is amazing how, with the phenomenon of the Tea Party, very few made the point that the vast majority of the charges of "extremism" could have been equally levied against the Founders of the country, for they were proposing identical positions.

Interestingly enough, this same sort of thinking could be applied to the theology of the Church.  Today, so many modern theologian challenge "extremism" of ultra-conservative Orthodox Christians (I don't like the use of the terms "conservative" and "liberal" in speaking of Orthodox theology, but for ease of use, they will be utilized here).  There are, to be sure, some whose positions as "defenders of Orthodoxy" are indeed extreme...  But when the path that is represented by the vast majority of the Saints is deemed "too conservative," this shows that the spectrum being taken for granted is the real problem.  The Fathers always took the "royal, middle path," neither being too loose nor too strict.  As such, they ought to be placed at the center of our theological spectrum, with the mind of the Fathers being viewed neither as too "liberal" nor too "conservative."  If they fall off to either side of our theological thought, then we know we have a problem either with our understanding of their thought or with our own theological spectrum.

If we are to speak of a "center," either politically or theologically, and extremes at either side, we first must recognize that our "center" is relative.  There are, after all, many political commentators, philosophers, and theologians who would consider my views "extreme."  For me, this is not a problem; if some such figures considered me "middle of the road," only then would I start to worry...

St. Gabriel, Intercede for Us!

 Quite a few years ago, I was reading Youth of the Apocalypse: And the Last True Rebellion (found here).  Of the stories of modern holy figures that take up the latter part of this book, one story stuck with me, even until today.  It was the story of a monk in the country of Georgia who, during the height of Communism, committed an act that was shocking in its brazenness and inspiring in the zeal from which it came.  The monk, seeing a banner of the Lenin streaming down the side of a building in the town's square, sneaked into the structure, scaled the stairs, and poured kerosene (or gasoline or some other flammable substance...) down the banner.  He yelled down to the townspeople who had gathered for a rally that they once venerated true icons and worshiped their true Lord, Jesus Christ.  Now, their worship had fallen upon false idols of atheism and worldly power.  Then, before all the people and the authorities, he set the banner on fire.  

Such a story always caused me to wonder about this hieromonk and the rest of his life.  Well, as it turns out, this monk, Father Gabriel Urgebadze, was recently glorified in the Church as a Saint.  

A declaration of this glorification in which he is called "St. Gabriel: Confessor and Fool for Christ" can be found here.  His life, well worth one's time, can be found here.  

St. Gabriel, intercede for us!