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Posts in category Faith

Depression

 

It was wonderful in Grenoble, I came to Delft full of energy and new ideas: and has been hit by a wave of depression in very first day. Depressive feelings are not alien to me, they are well-known but still dangerous enemy. I guess many in my environment are having depression from time to time, but do not discuss this and try to deny it.  When depressed, I don’t do things scheduled and/or those I have to do. Rather, I’m busy with things completely unnecessary and sometimes even damaging for me and others. The pain from not doing things I have to do or not doing them in a proper way is sharp, overwhelming and pleasant in masochistic way, and it drives me to further depression. The feeling of miserability, despair and apathy persists. I become increasingly asocial and even rude while demanding and needing more attention from people around. 

The danger of depression is easy to understand in physical terms. It arises spontaneously, like an instability, and sustains itself by a sort of negative feedback: apathy and relation damage caused by depression brings more despair and therefore more apathy and damage. If I try to compile a list of all things that would drive me to a depression, it’ll cover 80% of my working and family duties. It is especially bad to have a depression in the fasting period: yelding to despair is a sin, and the despair is a fertile soil for almost all other sins, and failure to fast does produce more and more depression. This is why the depression tries to hit us in this particular time.

Being human, I can do very little against instabilities and negative feedback loops of my tainted soul. I have to bring the topic to Him, though initially this seems both unnecessary or blasphermic. There’s an old prayer:

 
 

  • O Lord and Master of my life,
    the spirit of emptiness, despair (that is, depression), domination or idle talk
    do not let me have it.
  • But give rather a spirit of purity, humility, patience and love, give me to Thy servant.
  • Yea, O Lord and King,
    grant me to see mine own faults and not to judge my brother,
    for blessed art Thou unto the ages of ages. Amen.

 

Pilgrims of Brodsky

there’s a lazy sunday far from home, so I’ve found an English translation of another Brodsky’s poem. This poem I’ve first heard in the age of twenty, and given the circumstances of epouche, it was an underground song, a manifestation of forbidden culture. For Brodsky in the time of writting, the poem was most probably post-christian. Yet what’s Brodsky: he’s just a magical mirrow that shows our souls rather than faces.  For me of that age, the poem was a kind of pre-christian, that drove me think of things beyond earthy world. Here it goes:

 

PILGRIMS

Past arenas and temples,

past churches and taverns,

past elegant graveyards,

past thundering markets,

past the world, and past sorrow,

past Rome, and past Mecca –

scorched by the sun’s blueness,

the pilgrims are trekking.

They are hunchbacked, they hobble.

They are hungry, half-noked –

with eyes full of sunset

and hearts full of sunrise.

The wastes sing behind them,

heat-lightning flares feebly,

the stars sweep above them,

birds screech to them hoarsely:

"The world has not altered."

No. It has not altered.

It is what it has been.

It is what it will be.

Its snow-crust still dazzles,

its warmth is still doubtful.

The world will be faithless

and yet everlasting.

Perhaps men can know it

and yet it is endless.

Which means there’s no meaning

in faith in oneself, or

in God; all that’s left is

the Road and the Dreaming.

Yet earth will know sunsets.

And earth will know dawnings.

Dead soldiers will loam it,

live poets affirm it.

 
Well, English translation is fine but falls short of original text not able to convey some important subtleties. Anyway. 

 p.s. you have noticed "noked" The second letter must be "a". Yet this blog is hosted by an educational organization, and such words are unacceptable in this blog. Seriously: nothing is more dangerous than automated stupidity. 

Presentation of Jesus at the Temple

or, Meeting the Lord, is a feast I am too late to write about. It was last Monday, and, owing to Lent, has been shifted to Sunday. Anyway, I do it now since I’ve found a poem of Joseph Brodsky in English. Here it is:

Nunc Dimittis’

When Mary first came to present the Christ Child

to God in His temple, she found—of those few
who fasted and prayed there, departing not from it—
devout Simeon and the prophetess Anna.
The holy man took the Babe up in his arms.
The three of them, lost in the grayness of dawn,
now stood like a small shifting frame that surrounded
the Child in the palpable dark of the temple.
The temple enclosed them in forests of stone.
Its lofty vaults stooped as though trying to cloak
the prophetess Anna, and Simeon, and Mary—
to hide them from men and to hide them from Heaven.
And only a chance ray of light struck the hair
of that sleeping Infant, who stirred but as yet
was conscious of nothing and blew drowsy bubbles;
old Simeon’s arms held him like a stout cradle.
It had been revealed to this upright old man
that he would not die until his eyes had seen
the Son of the Lord. And it thus came to pass. And
he said: ‘Now, O Lord, lettest thou thy poor servant,
according to thy holy word, leave in peace,
for mine eyes have witnessed thine offspring: he is
thy continuation and also the source of
thy Light for idolatrous tribes, and the glory
of Israel as well.’ The old Simeon paused.
The silence, regaining the temple’s clear space
oozed from all its corners and almost engulfed them,
and only his echoing words grazed the rafters,
to spin for a moment, with faint rustling sounds,
high over their heads in the tall temple’s vaults,
akin to a bird that can soar, yet that cannot
return to the earth, even if it should want to.
A strangeness engulfed them. The silence now seemed
as strange as the words of old Simeon’s speech.
And Mary, confused and bewildered, said nothing—
so strange had his words been. He added, while turning
directly to Mary: ‘Behold, in this Child,
now close to thy breast, is concealed the great fall
of many, the great elevation of others,
a subject of strife and a source of dissension,
and that very steel which will torture his flesh
shall pierce through thine own soul as well. And that wound
will show to thee, Mary, as in a new vision
what lies hidden, deep in the hearts of all people.’
He ended and moved toward the temple’s great door.
Old Anna, bent down with the weight of her years,
and Mary, now stooping gazed after him, silent.
He moved and grew smaller, in size and in meaning,
to these two frail women who stood in the gloom.
As though driven on by the force of their looks,
he strode through the cold empty space of the temple
and moved toward the whitening blur of the doorway.
The stride of his old legs was steady and firm.
When Anna’s voice sounded behind him, he slowed
his step for a moment. But she was not calling
to him; she had started to bless God and praise Him.
The door came still closer. The wind stirred his robe
and fanned at his forehead; the roar of the street,
exploding in life by the door of the temple,
beat stubbornly into old Simeon’s hearing.
He went forth to die. It was not the loud din
of streets that he faced when he flung the door wide,
but rather the deaf-and-dumb fields of death’s kingdom.
He strode through a space that was no longer solid.
The rustle of time ebbed away in his ears.
And Simeon’s soul held the form of the Child—
its feathery crown now enveloped in glory—
aloft, like a torch, pressing back the black shadows,
to light up the path that leads into death’s realm,
where never before until this present hour
had any man managed to lighten his pathway.
The old man’s torch glowed and the pathway grew wider.

This translation of G.L. Kline skifully reproduces the musics of Russian tetrameter which probably renders it unreadable. In Russian, it’s really a jewel: you feel like reading the Bible, and, for a change, understanding it. Brodsky was a great Russian poet, a fine American essayist, and, as far as I know, was rather far from Chirstian faith. God lives where He pleases…

 

 

 

Forgiveness Sunday

is today. It is a last day before Great Lent. Since Lent implies repentance, and repentance should begin with forgiveness, Orthodox Christians use this day to ask each other of mercy to forgive their wrongdoings. There is a special Rite for this, and our priests line up to ask forgiveness and to give it. Since each individual action of that traditionally involves at least a single very deep bow, I always wonder how do they manage to do this for couple of hundreds parochians and what would happen if we had couple of thousand. Naturally enough, parochians follow the example and do the rit to each other, so both my soul and spine had to work today.

May I use this occasion, dear reader, to ask you to forgive me any offences and wrongdoings I may have done to you: either in course of off-line communications, or by writing this blog. If you show this mercy, you may wish me a good Lent.

Ted Chiang

 is an American sci-fi author who writes really very little but is famous in circles since he harvests a noticeable fraction of prestigious sci-fi awards. I read most his stories, they seemed well-crafted and entertainingly bizzar but I could not say they had touched me.  

Recently I have read his "Exhalation" and this get to my soul. It is a story where there is no word about God and faith while everything speaks of God and faith. I recommend it to everybody who is interested in the relation between science and religion, and …

No, you’d better read it yourself. By kind permission of the author, you can find the story at

http://www.nightshadebooks.com/Downloads/Exhalation%20-%20Ted%20Chiang.html

and it IS short.

 

Christmas

Glory to God in the highest, and peace to His people on Earth!

Glory to God born to dwell among us, one who has been suffering for us and saves us!

Finally Chirtsmas came to me too.

Dear reader, blessed Chirstmas to you!

Even in likely case you have already celebrated it and forgotten what you have eaten during the feast:) Tomorrow’s my turn.

Job Cohen in orthodox parish

So the rumour had it right: Job Cohen has visited our parish. There’s the official press-release:
“To begin the celebration of its 35th anniversary, on 4 Decemeber 2009 the parish of St. Nicolas of Myra in Amsterdam hosted a symposium on the role of the Russian Orthodox parish in the city of Amsterdam. Participants included Mayor Job Cohen, journalist Hubert Smeets (during part of his career he was based in Moscow), Jurjen Beumer, director of “Stem in de Stad” (Voice in the City) in Haarlem, and Archimandrite Meletious Webber, abbot of St. John of Shanghai Monastery in California, who formerly was a guest priest assisting the Amsterdam parish.”

You can find an excellent foto-set, a must-see for all PvDA’ers and Orhodox, at http://www.flickr.com/photos/jimforest/sets/72157622816245705/

The Entry of the Most Holy Mother of God into the Temple

is one of the Great Feasts in Orthodox churches. Catholics call it Presentation and have celebrated it — right you are, two weeks ago. For me, it’s more like "entry", or more specifically, "braving stairs". Imagine a little child put in front of stairs with sufficiently challenging steps.(See this) You know what will happen: the child will climb up defying
gravity, possible inconveniences and minimal action principle. Not
thinking much about being at height. Just believing it is worth
climbing. So I hope I still climbe, and hope I do it in a right
direction.

In our parish, the feast is combined
today with another event circumstances of which are not completely
clear to me. Mayor of Amsterdam Job Cohen will visit our parish:
reportedly, to give a speech. I wonder if he climbs some stairs before
that: in fact, we do have some challenging ones. I look forward to more
details.

Crux II 2

I have skipped the last meeting of our christian society. It appeared that many people have skipped that as well, and the organizers have encouraged us "to keep the flame". So I did my best to attend the meeting on November 19, despite overlapping appointments.

It was interesting. Karel Terwel told us about his parish in Delftshaven: old town being now a part of greater Rotterdam. It dwels in a neat old church (http://www.pelgrimvaderskerk.nl/). The parish life is active and flourishing, including missionary and social work in the town. It was nice to learn that the parish is growing and full with young families.

Karel is a busy person: he is a teacher at TU Delft, he is a chairman of the parish council, and, as if it is not enough, he does a PhD study. He hardly has a free evening, and feels bad about: he thinks he should do more for the parish. He got various advices. For instance, it was noted that his TU Delft activities whlist done properly, is also work for God, since He dispatched Karel to Facultly of Civil Engineering. Another advice was not to do PhD studies in the evening: right, evenings are hardly productive as far as intellectually involved work is concerned. A PhD student has compared his lifestyle with that of his Chineese (en thus unbelieving) fellow-students to conclude: they’ve more time to work, it costs time and perhaps quality of PhD thesis to be a Christian.

Well, at least for me the time spend on the meeting was not a waste on expence of my work: I was freshly recharged by seeing my friends in Christ and praying with them. Glory to God.

Florence – Firenze

This is of course my wife to decide where to go for a vacation. Yet I could not choose a better destination to investigate the links between science and faith, Firenze citta magnifica, that has been decaying mightly for last four houndred years but has not even reached the steepest moment of decay. Thereby presenting a good example to all Western civilizations.

Take Duomo. This is a multi-functional bulding. One of the main functions is kept from tourist crowds. To access it, you need to cross several barriers: some being in your soul, some in the Duomo. For the latter, you subsequenty talk to three guards. Those are responsive, although not in English. Finally, you get close to the relics, speaking scientifically, remains of human beings preserved for veneration. For us Orhodox the most important object was the head of St. John Chysostomos.  The relics are difficult to see through jewelry of vessels and boxes. No board helps to recognize them. At some stage you  recognize that the whole Duomo
is just a shell, an outer box to keep the boxes with relics. Heavenly perfect and humaly unperfect. Perhaps this is why the Florentians hardly cared about finishing it: its facade has been a painted piece of canvas for three centuries. On a more phylosophical note: are we not just shells to keep our faith in?

And now we want more science. Hit the Museum of History of Science, by far the eldest one: it has been started in 1562. Owing to endless restauro, you can see only a third of the collection ( so the entance fee is very scientifically reduced by a third). Still there is a large amount of old sci instruments from XVI to XIX century, much more than here in Delft. Yet no the original telescope of Galileo promiced. There is another thing missed on display. By tradition of times of relative harmony between science and faith, they keep the middle finger from the right hand of Galileo. Perhaps I should have argued with the guards that I am a professor of physics and ought to venerate the remain. I did not dare and also wanted to spare my wife. She has been alreary slightly confused about motivations of researches by an eldest exposure in the museum. That was a functional celestial globe. As a detail, it is being erected by a satyr, and the globe is not the only thing the satyr has erected.

Let me finish with better example of the harmony passed. In old sacristy of San Lorenzo, the eldest church in the town, one finds a detailed fresco that reproduces stars and planets in the sky with scientific accuracy. From the planet positions one reads the date: its Jule 4, 1442. Yet the significance of the date is not clear yet: more research is needed in this direction…

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