In The Gloom

These photos were taken on a very foggy day on or near the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia. All three have been modified to highlight not how the scene through the viewfinder looked but how it felt. All three are darker than the originals and gloomier. Although not faithful to the light and shadow of the moment they are faithful to the somber beauty of the Appalachians.

Or perhaps it is a reflection of the gloom that seems to permeate my existence of late. November is yet weeks away but already I feel its cold grip and cache of memories better left buried. The elasticity of memory. Some seem to remain forever attached like barnacles, hard to break loose only to come back again.

The Blessing Of Friendship

This morning I traveled about five miles up the road to visit a friend (that's him in the photo) I haven’t seen since the first of the year. We worked together at the sheriff’s office and were two of the twenty-eight fired by the new chief law enforcement officer. I was there for a mere ten years; he was there for thirty-five years and served under three different sheriffs.

We sat and talked for several hours about old times and about what’s going on at the office now. We both realized that in many ways being fired was a tremendous blessing. He was the Chief Deputy and I was the Public Information Officer. We were both on call 24/7 and most days the job dominated our lives. Not being tethered to a pager and a cell phone all the time gave us the opportunity to catch our breath, to enjoy life at a much slower pace.

When we moved into this house three years ago he was one of the men who showed up with truck and trailer and made what could have been a hellish day almost pleasant. After we got settled he also came over several weekends and helped me renovate our guest bathroom. Part of his job as Chief Deputy was being the heavy. He meted out the discipline and could be a terror when the situation called for it. He was a very astute, pragmatic, survivor and a little rough around the edges at times. But it was his job and he did it to the best of his ability. Out in the community he had a reputation as a hard nosed, almost Machiavellian character.

He and I never locked horns. We had our disagreements and there were times when we didn’t stay in the same room together for very long, but it was always work, never personal. As I sat there talking to him I realized how much I enjoyed his company. He is a few years older but he’s also a country boy and on many levels we seem to understand each other. I also realized how wrong most people’s perception of him is/was. He was/is no saint by any means but he is a husband, father and grandfather committed to his family. He knows most everyone in the county and has helped a great many of them over the years. When I worked as a newspaper reporter prior to join the sheriff’s office I was aware of his reputation as a ball-buster (pardon the term), as an almost mythic figure with legendary fits of rage. Time and time to reflect have mellowed him. Well maybe not mellowed, but allowed the real Charlie to come out.

We were talking about photography and how I liked photographing old buildings in the county. He knew of an old church close by that I had never seen so we drove out in his truck and took some pictures. We enjoyed it so much we’ll do it again next week. And he didn’t say anything about the beard. What a friend.

Beard Discrimination

This sign sits in Tarboro, a small community just north and west of where I live. Am I the only one who sees humor here? This is the kind of support some troops might really appreciate.

This is gonna hurt but I have to write about a painful experience (other than the $158 for groceries) at Wal-Mart the other day. As I was walking out I stopped to look at the red box video dispenser to see if any movies looked appealing when the girl greeter/cop came up behind me and asked to see my receipt. I’ve got about a dozen bags of groceries, no large screen TV’s, no cases of beer, no firearms or fishing poles, no Bulldawg paraphernalia, just groceries. She actually perused the receipt long enough to verify that I had indeed bought Eight O’Clock coffee, Horizon organic milk and (I am shamed to admit it) Oreo’s.

I stood there wondering what was going on, this had never happened before. Then I saw the look in her eye. It was the beard. I was being follicley profiled! Can a hirsute man not go to the store without suffering this injustice? I was never stopped when wearing a moustache, even a shaggy one. Rise up my bearded brothers (and even a few sisters truth be told) and demand to be treated the same as all the other men afraid to let it all hang out, the same as those pour souls still enslaved by Gillette. Clean cut and respectable do not have to be joined at the proverbial hip. What’s next? Mandatory little white beard booties? Beard burning? Beards to the back of the bus?

I definitely get very different looks with my fine beard, especially from the womens. Unfortunately it’s either, “That poor man.” Or more commonly, “His poor wife.” I can handle the looks of pity and disdain but to actually be stopped on suspicion of stealing deliciously addictive cookies is just too close a trim. The hairy man in me says I should call Arkansas and protest of this injustice, and then go berate the store manager.

Or maybe I should just shave.

At least the folks at church understand.

First Tentative Steps

Well the Crawfish Festival is finally over. It was a long day starting at 4:00 a.m. and ending at about 6:30 p.m. My wife and daughters and two of my daughter's friends helped a great deal to ease the burden.

Many people stopped by to browse and many had positive comments about the photos on display. I displayed a little of everything from abstract to landscape just to see what the reaction would be. I was surprised when most people responded to the more abstract works, especially the black and white. It’s what I tend to be drawn to as well, but I thought popular taste would run differently.

I sold four photos and recouped the fee to set up a booth at the festival. No profit was made but I actually sold my art. I have seen my photos in the local newspapers many times of fires, wrecks etc. which I took with the access afforded by my last job. This felt very different. This was more satisfying knowing the photos will hang in someone’s home.

This photo got the greatest response. I printed it as an 11x14 to get a better sense of scale. People seemed to sense it was saying something about the Church standing unconquered.

The first customers (a married couple) purchased these two. These are two of my favorites.

The second customer purchased these two. I guess she likes sunsets.

Next weekend it’s on the even bigger Shrimp Festival just south of here in Fernandina Beach, Florida. Thank all of you for your prayers. I am feeling better and am hopefully on the mend.

Like A Wayward Buzzard

The sputtering headlights sliced the curtain of night making visible the bugs and dust caught blowing in the midsummer Texas evening. The poor pilgrims are bound for a weather-beaten cinderblock church perched like a wayward buzzard in one corner of a nondescript intersection in the darkness just west of town. The Baptists were not the first to lay claim to the building’s shelter from the roiling storms that ravaged the southern plains. It was built as a mortuary but death is a fickle business. Inside the unadorned sanctuary members mingled, milling around while waiting for the ringmaster. The Middle Child sat nearly invisible on the always empty front row waiting for the show.
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Just three days earlier at their rented ramshackle house the children called upon their Lord Jesus to save them because they could not save themselves. Against the Preacher’s relentless emotional juggernaut they had no defense and had their souls saved whether they needed it or not. The Middle Child sat helpless, caught in a vortex where all futures hinged on his response so he mouthed the words, repeated the incantation, the invocation of the Spirit. A deep sense of gloom and despair hung in the darkening bedroom. The Middle Child felt the change. He felt a flutter in himself like an old bird rising from the roost. A longing, a small hope stirred and he was wary.
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The show was Brother Jimmy Earl Bowie, a long, greasy, beanpole of a man with flaky, collar length black-from-a-bottle hair slicked straight back from a sharp widow's peak. He was an animated man manufacturing/conjuring attention with his every deliberate (and well rehearsed) gesture. Brother Jimmy Earl believed the congregation came expecting a show and who was he to restrain the Spirit? Hanging loose on his bony frame was a blue polyester suit with wide white stripes with a matching handkerchief, a once-white shirt and a pencil thin black tie. The handkerchief stayed in his left hand to wipe his holy brow. Following the service he would pray over it and offer it up for a small love offering. Brother Jimmy Earl wore a silver pinky ring on each hand because he thought it looked refined and helped to camouflage his eastern Kentucky white trash roots.

Becoming a man of God was one of the few avenues of power and authority available to a man of Brother Jimmy's education and breeding. But deep down he knew Baptist’s would ordain a potato. Still, he was a man on a mission. He prayed in Old English with a roaring torrent of thee's, thou's and thy's pouring out in a deep sonorous voice. He was Southern to the core but lacked the certainty of conviction. Eloquent? Every time. Honest? Hopefully. Sincere? Sometimes. He stepped into the cockpit, his eyes downcast with a pregnant pause hanging in the air waiting to be delivered.

"Our message tonight is taken from the sixth chapter of Paul's epistle to the Ephesians, verses ten through twenty. I just love the sound of them angel wings. I don't need to tell you that we live in a wicked world that ceaselessly assails us with its utter vileness. To combat this evil assault we will examine how the apostle Paul tells us to put on the whole armor of Christ. May we all rise for the reading of God's Word."

The words came like a calming flood filling the room with their mesmerizing, all-encompassing, unquenchable potency. He chanted the ancient words:

Finally my brethren be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the Devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Therefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand. Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; Above all, taking the shield of faith, where ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God: Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit . . .

"Do you beleeva?" He slowly pulled the words from deep in his gullet. "Do you believe God is walking and talking amongst us tonight? If we are prepared we can stand fast resting assured in the unshakable promise of His word when old Lucifer comes roaring as a lion seeking whom he may devour. Hallelujah! We must take an active part, we must be willing to wear the armor. Don't let wily Lucifer catch you off guard, just let him bounce off of your heavenly protection.”

“And notice with me if you will that we have an offensive weapon. Verse 17 says, "And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." Just what is this sword of the spirit? How do we skewer Lucifer? With our beloved Bible, with God's holy infallible, inexhaustible word. But we are not like warriors of old, how do we wield this sword? By knowing God's word inside and out. Only with fervent prayer, daily meditating on the Word and the incessant seeking of God's will can we wield this sword of power. And you must petition the Lord with prayer. Yes you must petition the Lord with prayer.”

“Do not be caught unaware. Do not be mistaken. Do not be deceived. Do not let down your guard. Do not doubt for even one second that we face a mighty and a cunning foe. Satan is a slanderer, he is Lucifer, son of the morning, he is Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies. He is the evil one, the tempter, he is the prince of this world and the god of this age. He is the serpent, the dragon and the false angel of light. But praise Him we have Jesus on our side and He is the dragon slayer.”

"We do not fight alone. The Apostle John says that we have an Advocate with the Father. We have no need to fear for Christ is the Lamb of God and the Lion of the tribe of Judah. He is the King of Kings and the Lord of lords. He is the Prince of Peace and the Prince of Life. He is the Son of God, the Son of David and the Son of man. He is the Chief Cornerstone and He is the skandalon, the rock that offends. He is the Way and the Truth and the Life. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. He always has been and He always will be. He is the Wonderful Counselor and the author and perfecter of our faith. He is the Dayspring, the Sun of Righteousness and He is the Morning Star. He is the Great Shepherd and he is the Bishop of Souls. He is the Light of the World, the head of the church and he is the Lo-o-ord Jesus Christ. Amen!”

“He is the Word of Life, he is the Logos. John says, In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. That means He is indivisible from God. God is a triune God. He is all at once the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Jesus is fully God. He is Jehovah, He is the great I AM. He is El Elyon, the Most High, He is El Roi, the Strong One who sees, He is El Shaddai, Almighty God, and He is El Olam, Everlasting God. He is Jehovah Jireh, the Lord will provide, He is Jehovah Nissi, the Lord my banner, He is Jehovah Shalom, the Lord is peace, He is Jehovah Sabbaoth, the Lord of hosts, He is Jehovah Raah, the Lord is my shepherd, He is Jehovah El Gmolah, the Lord God or recompense, and He is Jehovah Nakeh, the Lord that smiteth. Glory be to God!" His voice rose to a sharp crescendo as he pranced. His thin chanticleer body refused to stand still as he strutted across the small stage. When he again began his voice was hushed and serious.

"Who will you choose? God says you are either for Him or against Him, lukewarm you cannot be. Will you wear the armor and do battle against Lucifer or will you join his army and speed your way to eternal damnation? Are you willing to stand up for what is right or will you be a spectator and sit idly by while our world slowly sinks into a quagmire of evil? Our Lord says we should enter by the narrow gate because the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction and many are those who enter by it. The gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to life and few are those who find it. Are you strong enough to stay on the straight and narrow? Those of you out there who think that you are too smart to believe in our God and his infallible word do not be fooled. The Bible says that the ways and the wisdom of God are foolishness to men. Throw off the blinders of sin and condemnation and look upon the manifest truth of God in the person of Christ."

The sermonic tirade continued punctuated by a steady beat of "amen" and "preach it brother." Eventually Brother Jimmy got around to dispensing the Lord's Supper. He was careful, as he always was, to warn his people not to eat of the flesh or drink of the blood with unrepentant sin in their lives or they would, as the Bible promised, face condemnation. The Middle Child sat spellbound. He sat the small clear plastic cup of grape juice on the edge of the pew until the deacons finished. He turned to look and when he faced forward he spilled the purple juice on Brother Jimmy Earl’s new red carpet. Only a momentary pause, a scathing glance, revealed the preacher's discomfort. The service continued unabated but less animated before finally ending with the inescapable and inevitable invitation. It dragged on through two complete renditions of "Just As I Am" before Brother Jimmy lifted his bowed head and nodded to the choir director. He wished everyone a good night and hoped that he would see them all Wednesday night for the prayer meeting, bible study and choir practice. Finally he descended.

The workman of the Lord had no control over his rage. With eyes flashing and a flushed face Brother Jimmy Earl exploded in a vehement whisper that by its very nature attracted attention.
"Why can't you be more careful boy? Do you know how much this carpet cost? What were you thinking? That was the clumsiest thing I have ever seen. This stain will never come out. My church needs to be clean and presentable, not stained and scarred. This is my house, my God's house and it is not a place for poor, dirty, ungrateful children who cannot sit still."

As the dressing down continued the church grew quiet but for the whirling wind's whine. The Middle Child stood helpless, nailed in place. He had no excuse and suddenly, clearly, saw that he needed none. He turned his back to this man of God, this pastor, this supposed shepherd of the flock. As he did the crowd cleared the Middle Child a narrow crooked path to the door. Alone the boy stepped out over the threshold into the cool wilderness of the darkened east. Behind him the dark wine spread into a small crimson bird caught, trapped in flight on the blood red carpet.

Orthodox Visions

I hope the video speaks for itself. If you think it's worthwhile pass it on.

She Is The God-bearer

On Sept. 8, The Church celebrated The Feast of The Nativity of our Most Holy Lady the Mother of God and Ever-Virgin Mary. I’m not sure why but I found myself deeply contemplating (not easy with my shallow mind) this feast day in general and the Theotokos in particular.

As a good (sometimes) God-fearing (almost always) Protestant I never gave much thought to Mary other than at Easter and Christmas, those days when she intruded into the celebration and could not be ignored, diminished certainly, but not ignored. At that time anything to do with Mary smelled suspiciously of the Romans with their statuary and their candles and their incense (or Popery?). We were taught that the Romans (we never even knew the Holy Orthodox Church existed) did their best to elevate Mary to a full share in the Godhead and sought to change the Holy Trinity to the (un)Holy Quadripartite (I’m sure that’s not exactly the right word so please correct me Fr. Frank). I apologize for all the (excessive) parentheses.

My church experience prior to coming home to Orthodoxy was that we were in theory Trinitarian but in practice unitarian (not those Unitarians of the watered down gospel) in that the focus is almost solely on Christ to the exclusion of God the Father and The Holy Spirit.

In broadening my views on Mary I came to understand in a much deeper way how through Christ’s humanity and our shared humanity we need not fear death. The concept of sharing is His humanity for some reason just never seemed significant. I know this sounds a bit preposterous and points out quite clearly my cranial density but I eventually began to grasp that we are the beneficiaries of Christ’s full humanity (He having sprung from Mary’s womb).

As for venerating and lifting up the Theotokos, who better in the history of humanity to lift up? She is the God-bearer. Her unhesitant acceptance, her embrace of what God the Father through the Holy Spirit would make manifest through her is the model for us all.

I no longer flinch at, “Most holy Theotokos, save us.” I am comforted by:

“Remembering our all-holy, immaculate, most blessed, and glorious Lady, Theotokos and Ever-virgin Mary with all the Saints, let us commend ourselves and each other, and all our life unto Christ our God.”

“It is truly right to bless you, O Theotokos,
ever blessed, and most pure, and the Mother of our God:
more honorable than the cherubim, beyond compare more glorious than the seraphim —
without corruption you gave birth to God, the Word.
True Theotokos, we magnify you!”

And all God’s people said, “Amen.”

My Brother Baptized

I found out this week that my brother Terry was baptized last Sunday at All Saints of North America. I have written about Terry and the adversities he overcame at Strength and Honor. The story of how this came about and how he was introduced to Orthodoxy is much too complicated to address in this posting. I am overjoyed to have my brother in blood become my brother in Christ.

These photos were taken earlier today after the Divine Liturgy. They don't really have much to do with Lazarus Saturday but I like how they turned out.