From one desert to another...packing for St. Vlad's

For the one of you who has followed this brief blog in the past, I have not died, nor have I been detained somewhere. I am healthy and alive, if not tired and moving toward emotionally drained (to use a dramatic phrase).

I have refrained from posting for some time in an effort to protect my (former) position at work. In March of this year I was accepted into the MDiv program at St. Vlad's, and I didn't want to spill the beans until I was in a position to deal with the possibility of losing my job over such an announcement.

As it turns out, I seemingly had nothing to fear. I worked out my time at Habersham Furniture, and finished on very good terms with my employers.

What started out as a job that I dreaded with all of my being (see some of my earlier posts below) eventually turned out to be a great blessing and a wonderful "desert experience". When people say that "God knows best", quoting Job and the Psalms and St. Paul among others, they are right. It is so easy to try to tell God what to do in our short-sightedness, fear and pride. If I had had my way, I would never have entered the wonderful "desert" that was my work space at the factory.

What do I mean by "desert"? If you are Orthodox, you probably understand the reference to the desert as a place of solitary life where one engages in strong personal reflection, repentance and heavy spiritual battle. I am thinking, at this moment, mostly of St. Anthony the Great as the perfect example of such a desert battler. My desert was the factory, which God saw fit to send me into, and where I was (much to my surprise) able to spend even more time in inward contemplation of my own dim-wittedness and pride and falleness, and where I seemed to be able to hear God's voice so much clearer and feel His presence so much more profoundly. Of course, this was all His grace, and had absolutely nothing to do with my halting and self-centered efforts at being more "spiritual". Don't have any misconceptions of my candidacy for sainthood.

And now that I am leaving this desert, I find that I miss it terribly, and that the tears come very easily. These very real tears are, to me, a confirmation of the move that we are making to New York. God is compelling us to go, and we go not to escape something we don't want, but to engage what God is asking from us.

May God bless the wonderful, crazy, loud and funny assemblers, millers, sanders, finishers and supervisors that I worked with. May God bless all of you at Habersham for the last ten years of my life. May God grant you all many years, and may His light illumine every corner of that dusty and noisy factory, where I experienced the wonder of God's love and providence.

Life and Death and Life

I realized today that I completely neglected to blog about the passing of one of our family members in the first week of January, this year: Ladybug, our cat.

Ladybug, or "Bug" as she was actually referred to, turned 12 years old in 2008. We adopted her and her sister Spot (+2005) when we moved into our first home in 1996. They were both black cats from the same litter. Spot was part Manx (no tail), exceedingly affectionate, and seemingly mentally handicapped. Bug, however, was sleek, fast, feisty, and mean.

We have had numerous cats over the years. All of them had very redeeming characteristics to offset their less-noble traits. Most of them would be with us for about two or three years, and either they would die, run away, or we would have to give them up due to a move to a new apartment.

Bug, however, shattered all the old records. She refused to get sick, or to suffer at the hands...er, paws of the other neighborhood beasts (cats or dogs). She just kept going and going.

She was a mean and unpredictable cat, who would insist that you pet her at one moment and then claw you the next. She got worse and worse over the years, adding disgusting bodily functions to her demoniac personality.

As Kate and I were contemplating the prospect of moving to NY to attend seminary, we wondered what we were going to do with this horrible creature. We were opposed to putting her to sleep, as she was both shockingly healthy and we felt that we had something of a tangible obligation to this animal who God was using to teach us lessons about patience and forbearance. She was a part of our family, and you just don't put healthy members of your family to sleep. And, as I said, no one in his right mind would have agreed to take her in.

And then, suddenly, she died. We went away on a two day family trip, and when we returned we found that she was having a difficult time breathing, wouldn't eat or drink without our help; in short, she was dying. She wasn't sick, nor had she been sick. In fact, she was far too healthy and active for such an old, somewhat weather-beaten cat. But now, her breathing had become raspy and she was sleeping constantly and quietly. This began on a Friday, and by Sunday night she died.

The strangeness in this was that I had already said to my wife and our friends that if Bug died, I would take it as a sign that it was time for us to go to seminary. Now, I am not the sort that looks for signs or "puts out a fleece" to divine the Divine. But Bug's death was providential for us, I believe, and (to be perfectly honest) a real blessing. She was never a good cat, but she was our cat. The photo above is of her grave, which I dug 10:30 Sunday night under our oak tree in the back yard, in the rain after band rehearsal. The neighbors must have been suspicious.

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And then last week, our receptionist and friend at work, Evelyn Crumpton, died suddenly and incredibly unexpectedly. Life and Death.

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And then, just a couple of hours ago, I received a phone call letting me know that my friend (and fellow bandmate) Doug's mother had passed away just as shockingly, just as unexpectedly. Again, Life and Death.

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How do we put life and death in its place as believers in a resurrected savior? Do we try to tell the victims of this death in the family that "it will be OK", that their loved one "is with the Lord, so that makes this death OK"? Comfort them we must, but with Truth mingled with love, and without a denial of reality. To quote Peter Bouteneff from his presentation on Death at St. Vlad's a couple of years ago: "Death stinks." This was not and is not trite. Death may have been a part of the original order of the yet-to-be-perfected Adam and Eve, but it has become the "last enemy" and so very evil for so many of us. It brings us deep sorrow and blackness of heart and soul. It is waves that wash over us, like the waves of a perfect storm.

But in all of this, there is Christ, who walked on those waters and calmed those waves. Christ who himself died, and in death shattered the gates of Death, trampling down death by death. Christ Himself conquered death and waits for us as we pass through that door of death.

On this side of the veil, we weep for the loss of those close to us. We who are seemingly caught in the net of time, being weighed down by our perception of seconds and minutes and hours and days and years. We miss those who we are close to, and regret the time we waste not spent in becoming closer to them in Godly love and perfection.

So what do we say or do for those who feel the loss caused by death? I think that the only thing that we can do is weep when they weep, and rejoice when they rejoice, and be silent as much as necessary.

May the memory of Doug's mom and Evelyn be eternal, and may it remind us that our lives are a vapor and like grass that dries up and withers away. Let us not waste our time on anything less than that which will bring us closer to Christ.

Wooden Chalice; or How I Spent Monday Morning

Actually, the title should read, "How I spent my break times on Monday morning", just in case anyone was confused. I managed to do a little experimental wood turning while setting up our lathe for another set of turnings for work. I am trying to learn how to turn a wooden communion chalice.

The goal is to teach myself how to make highly detailed (small beads, coves, cutaways, etc.) turnings that are super smooth once they've been sanded. The biggest problem with making a chalice (as it would seem) is making a large enough hole in the top to receive a metal cup.

This particular sample was made out of rough alder, glued up into a block. It was quite a nice material to work in, as it turns out.

In the background is a liturgical fan (ripidia) prototype that I am working on, and also a dome that didn't make the muster, for obvious reasons.

This week's reading list: Living Tradition by Fr J Meyendorff, The Mystery of Christ by Fr J Behr

Listening to: selected recordings from 2009 Schmemann Symposium (Sr Vassa's presentation was very interesting, not to mention Fagerberg's and Fr Taft's)

Completed applications,and now it's time to wait

I finally finished up my application packet for St. Vlad's a couple of weeks ago. Got the physical (everything looks good, supposedly). Wrote the Chrysostom essay (requirement for the MDiv application). Finally got the blessing letter from Archbishop Dmitri (it was originally lost in translation, plus I hear that bein'a bishop is pretty busy 'n' stuff).

And so now, I wait.


Cue the 'cricket' sound effects.


I seem to have worked through my work-related issues. I haven't complained about it online or elsewhere in, oh let's see, two months or so. Truthfully, I have to admit that I have really seen it as a blessing. A very unlooked-for and unexpected blessing. And I suspect that God has given me the grace I need (as my excellent mom-in-law would say) to deal with it and change. Thanks be to God.

I am trying to read books and listen to audio that will prep me for my coming internment at St. Vlad's. (Editor's note: I should say that I hope to be interred at St. Vlad's...I don't want to presume too much). Last week I started Fr John Behr's "The Mystery of Christ", which I am enjoying very much as a lunch-and-break read. I have also devoted much listening time at work (while turning posts on the lathe) to Fr Tarazi's lecture from SVS's summer institute on the subject of death. He gave a presentation on death in the Old Testament that is quite good and somewhat (at moments) far over my head. You can download this lecture for free from SVS press's website. You actually order the download as if it were a purchasable item, but it costs nothing. Additionally, Peter Bouteneff's lecture from the same summer institute is quite good as well.

Fr Tom Hopko's "Lord's Prayer" and "Praying with Icons" has gotten much repeated playtime on my iPod as well. He also has a lecture on the Theotokos that is reeaally long, but is broken down into parts, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in learning more about the Theotokos. You can download it on ancient faith radio.

All this is to say that my new job has blessed me with the possibility of educating myself as I work, which I enjoy quite a lot.

Speaking of that new job, I was recently given the opportunity to repeatedly lift a 100-pound log-shaped chunk of wood, for the purpose of shaping it into a beautiful pillar.

Here we see the original gigantic glue-up, which was originally 12 3/4" x 12 3/4" x 48". Here, I have wacked the four corners off with a circular saw, an electric planer, a chisel and a hammer (did I mention the chain saw?). We didn't have a saw large enough to handle this thing, so sized it down the old fashioned way.
Here, I am posing with the thing in order to give it some scale. It's big and heavy, and it barely fit into our lathe.



Here I am turning the log, as I affectionately named it.



And here you can see the finished center section of the pillar, complete with flutes. How did I flute it, you ask? Well, I'm not gonna tell ya. Mostly because I'm tired and don't want to type anything else.

So that is how I spent last week: lifting a log over and over again, and thereby turned it into a beautiful pillar. How is seminary ever going to compare?

Our visit to St. Vlad's...reflections.

Lee and I on the train, heading into 'the City'.

In early November, Kate and I, along with my brother Lee and Sis-in-law Amy, visited St. Vladimir's Orthodox Theological Seminary.  We did this in order to decide whether or not we had a future at St. Vlad's.  

I can't speak for Lee, but as for me...well, I am already packing.  It was overwhelming.  It was a very full experience participating in the services, talking to seminarians who are literally in 'the crucible', going to classes, talking to members of the administration.  Everyone that we talked to was kind and helpful and (most important) honest.  Honest about life at St. Vlad's, honest about the pro's and con's of the seminary, honest regarding contemplation of the priesthood.  We were given much food for thought and left with a feeling of satisfaction and (more honesty) a little fear.  Hopefully it is a healthy fear.

Our concerns at this stage revolve around a.) the practical issue of how we will survive (i.e. where is the money going to come from to pay the bills?), and b.) where will our kids get an education?  We are trying to give these fears over to God in prayer and faith, but it is hard to keep focused on the real Christ walking on the waters when the waves that surround you seem so powerful, the storm so terrible.

Some highlights from our trip:

•We stayed at a beautiful Marriott hotel in White Plains

•We were able to participate in all of the regular services (matins, vespers, Divine Liturgy, and a beautiful vigil on Saturday night)

•We ate at some wacky places (Mont Olympus, a Jewish deli, an excellent hole-in-the-wall pizza joint on Madison Ave.)

•NYC...we took the train into the city Sunday night.  It was shockingly beautiful.  I am much more inclined toward quiet, small towns, mountains, lakes and so forth.  But the City was beautiful in it's pre-winter garb

•Lee and I got to attend Paul Meyendorff's "Liturgical Theology" class, where he was breaking down some distinctions between the Anaphora Prayer in Chrysostom's and Basil's liturgies.  Amazing, wonderful stuff.

•Dinner with Andrew and Erika and their kids on Monday night, dessert with Daniel and Marcie on Saturday night.... Both couples gave us some excellent insight into seminary life.  Will we have faith?  Will we try to trust in our own understanding?

The Present Has A Funny Way Of Making The Past Look Good...

I tracked down some old photos from the earlier part of my career with my current employer, all of which seem to make the years previous to my promotion and subsequent demotion look so much better than they actually were.  Or maybe it's just that they weren't nearly as bad as I thought that they were.  Lesson learned.  Here are some photos...

This first photo is (beardless) me posing with the corner home office that I had recently finished.  This photo was taken in 2003, I believe.  This actual unit was used in the magazine ad photo that can be seen in one of my previous posts.  Note the bright light streaming into the room.  This is caused by a phenomena known as the "sun".  Evidently, the "sun" must cause factory workers to be less productive, therefore it is better to prevent them from seeing or experiencing the sun during working hours by creating factory buildings with no windows.

Here we have Glenn (2004) giving us some 'scale' on the very first kitchen project that our company took on.  In fact, I was the project manager for this kitchen.  I worked with a contractor named Brian Geremia (not sure if I got the spelling correct...it has been a while).  All in all, he was very good to work with.  Those curves were very difficult to make at that time.  The in-set doors looked great until they were exposed to humid, ocean-side air in an non-air-conditioned house.  We have learned our lessons on such things.

   

Here is the view that I used to enjoy on fall mornings at sunrise.  Ah, well...

This is one of my favorite photos from the old studio days.  The factory needed a photo tutorial on installing a plasma T.V. mount in a particular entertainment center.  So Glenn and I whipped one up.  I told Glenn to look as happy as he could.  I'm not sure if this is 'happy' or slightly insane.  Glenn quit and moved on almost two years ago, but we still try to have lunch together.

It's funny, because he and I would both admit that we both got on each others nerves frequently while we worked together.  But to look back now, all I can see is the good times that we had. We had a relationship literally forced on us, but it really turned out to be a strong, positive thing which I will always carry with me.  Thanks, Glenn, you're the best!  And if I can ever escape from this dusty factory, I will buy you a sub at Subway.

This is my oldest son, who (at that time) was my only son.  He was three in the photo, but is now nine years old.  He and my wife would visit me at lunch sometimes, and he inevitably would get sawdust in his eyes and freak out.  Good fun!

And finally, here is our engineer Tim busily working away, drawing yet another prototype for us to assemble.  This man has more experience building furniture in his right pinky than any of us at the factory have in our entire bodies.  I believe that he could knock together a beautiful piece of furniture using only a hammer, a chisel and some Elmer's school glue.  He really is a talented person.

Many times, I would drift into his work area from the shop to ask a question regarding some aspect of a 'build' that I was working on.  I would end up with a twenty minute lesson on six different possible solutions to the problem that I was encountering.  I have repeatedly encouraged him to write a book about woodworking in order to preserve his hands-on knowledge of a form of woodworking that doesn't rely on computers to do the work.  His response every time is a simple, "Yeah, I should."  If he only would.   Tim is part of a dying breed.

Two weeks of hell

I am now at the end of week number two working at the Factory (note the capital “F”, as in “you get an F”).  I cannot say that this is the most miserable that I have been in a given job.  I have been paid less to work other crappy jobs.  The people are kind and helpful and my direct supervisor has been quite cool (knock on wood, hope for the best…but based on my current experience, expect the worst).  Here is a photo of the view from my work area.

I would include a photo of the view from my former “work station”, but it would tempt me to feel depressed.  Let’s just say that the view was more than dirty brick walls and fluorescent lights.  I really feel the loss of seeing the sky regularly.

 I think the problem is that I just can’t seem to find my groove here.  I hate this place. I really do.  I beg God every day on the way to work to please help me to find another place of employment, but I have this suspicion that he is intentionally keeping me here to teach me humility and to love everyone.  These are two things that I really struggle with.  I am vain and (whether I want to accept this as fact or not) I am an elitist.  To be honest, I am not working with people with whom I am on the same level “intellectually”.  That is not to say that these persons are less intelligent (that may be far from the truth) or that they are ignorant or stupid.  I really  believe these things are quite contrary (at least in some cases) to the actual situation.  But to have a conversation here requires less knowledge about deeper ideas or concepts, and requires more knowledge of NASCAR and classic rock.   This is more "my problem", and less my co-worker's defenciencies.

I am already tired of living my day according to the “bell”.  I feel like I am back in high school.  “RING”, go to break.  “RING”, go back to work.  “RING”, go to lunch, ad nauseum.   I haven’t been on a fixed schedule in over seven years, and now I am expected to suddenly start coming in at six a.m. and jump every time a bell rings.  Frustration. 

 Am I really so screwed up that I need this strong medicine?  I must assume that, screwed up or not, I need it.  And it tastes terrible!

I went to confession last night in order to offload some of this anger and sin.  It felt warm and comforting.  I missed this morning’s divine liturgy due to the fact that I have to be here at six, and explaining to my supervisor that I had to go to church at seven in the morning… well, let’s just say that that wasn’t happening.  I miss my flexible schedule.  I miss it all the more because I am working in the same position for the same company, and have lost so many things that I thought that I had earned.  Frustration, frustration, frustration.     

 I keep thinking of the video created by the monks at the Hermitage of the Holy Cross.  You can see the brothers working in the heat in their cassocks, doing some of the most menial chores. I’m sure that they have their days where they must feel these same frustrations.  It’s not the same thing (I’m certainly not committing my life to this company), but I’m sure that in some ways I can see this job as a “desert”, just like St. Anthony’s desert. 

It is dry and waterless, full of demons and beasts and I am constantly being tempted and succumbing to the temptation to depend on my non-existant resources.  But there are also the lost, the despairing: my fellow sinners.  Sadly, to some of them this desert seems like the only world there is.  I, at least have hope in the sense that I have a plan for my future and that I have the reality of the kingdom of God, in which all reality finds its source.  As long as I am transfixed by the waves of the terrible ocean (this job, my circumstances), I will be unable to notice Christ walking on the waters to save this drowning man.  And sometimes being saved means dealing with the waves and the sea-sickness.  Strike “sometimes, read instead “always”.

 Merciful heavenly father, in whom all things live and move and have their existence, open my eyes to see my own sin and free me from my will that I might not, in my selfish and insufficient ability, work against you.  Rather, subdue my will that I might serve you with out resistance and be healed.

Emotion, Demotion

Over the years my relationship with my employer, who shall remain nameless for their own protection, has had its ups and downs.  Today, I was informed that I was neither fired nor demoted, but in truth i wish I had been fired because I was as-good-as demoted.  Here's the tale:

I was originally employed in the art department of this company, but quit after about a year and a half.  About a year and a half went by, and I was asked to come back to this company and join the design team building prototype furniture under the guidance of the head designer.  He designed, an exceedingly-talented engineer named Tim engineered, and my friend Glenn and I built the stuff.  It was, for the most part, a good thing.  We built some pretty amazing furniture using some very basic tooling.  Here are some images of the actual furniture that I built (the one at the bottom made it into a national advert).  Glenn and I split the building duties up, but these were units for which I was the primary builder...

>>>>The top image is a bed that literally rolls up into the entertainment center that forms its headboard (it uses a Zoom Bed to accomplish this).  The second photo is a curio of sorts, that is essentially a squashed half cylinder, and is called The Approach Road curio.  It was a real challenge.  The third photo is an Edwardian home office, which I quite like.  Note the iMac, front and center!<<<<

This position was challenging on many levels.  We had to be prepared to try some very different building methods on a deadline, and then be willing to deal with the fact that the designer was going to come into the shop and literally take a chain saw to our beautiful, completed work of furniture art.  I'm not kidding about the chain saw.  I have video footage.

Five years went by, and Glenn soured on his position due to the inadequacies of our boss and the dead-end nature of the position.   He quit.  I, too, was sick of that dead-end job and put in my notice, having taken a position at another local business.  But I was talked into staying with my company.  The bait? I was to be promoted out of tiresome furniture building (I was burned out on building after six years at the design studio) and into the position of "Kitchen and Bath Project Manager".  Sounded good to me, so I informed my intended employer that I wasn't going to be leaving my company after all, and took the K&B PM job.

The intention was for me to spearhead an 'internal' K&B program, taking it from conception to working form.  What I found was that I had agreed to subject myself to an incredibly slow and painful form of torture.  After four months, this program was found to be something of a failure, and apparently I was the one left holding the 'hot potato'.   Actually, I felt pretty good about my work as K&B PM, as I was able to encourage a real and working communication between our main K&B cabinetry vendor/partner and ourselves (something that was in jeopardy at the time of my promotion).  As a result of good team work, we were able to correct a number of poor practices and smooth out the workings of what will probably be the most profitable part of our company.

So it is sad to note that today, October 21, 2008, after serving a mere six months as K&B PM,  I was informed that the kitchen and bath program at my company was "not going to develop any further".  I was told that I would still have a job at my company.

That job?  You are going to love this part: I would go back to assembling prototype furniture.  But instead of returning to the design studio (a separate facility intended to be somewhat inspiring to the design team), I was to set up a shop inside the factory among the furniture assembly personnel (inspiring only to those who wish to find reasons to kill themselves..no offense to our assembly personnel intended!).  For me, this is about as low as I could go.  Our plant manager, who happens to be (in my opinion) a great guy and a talented plant manager, informed me that this was not "a demotion".  Ouch.  If only he hadn't said that.  He might as well have said, "I don't want to demote you, but what else can I do with you?"  The next question is, "How soon until you drop my pay and take me off of salary?"  I would be the only guy in the company to go from a higher position to a lower one without being fired.  Who will have any respect for me, even though I have not officially been demoted?

So I quit this job to take another job doing something that I wanted to do, only to be wooed back into a job which has now been taken from me and replaced with a much, much, MUCH worse version of the job that I originally quit.  I feel cheated.  I feel like the parties responsible will not take responsibility.  I feel like I am being made to pay for the mistakes of my superiors, who will pay nothing at all.

I also feel like this is a huge opportunity to be humbled, and to rejoice in that humility.

Unfortunately, at the moment all I can think about is the sick feeling that I have in my stomach that I may be stuck in a job that I (and I can't emphasize this word enough) HATE.  Pray for me.  Pray for me.  Pray for me.  I must feed my family and I want to do so in a way that I will remain sane.

Seminary seems so far away!

St. Vlad's: it's in the mail

So, I mailed my application for St. Vlad's yesterday.  I even took a picture of the envelope for posterity.  I'm surprised at how little emotion that I have for this significant event.  I feel as if, in some way, I have sealed my fate by finally sending this application which I swore that I would never send.  

Here are some things to put on a checklist if you are thinking about applying for St.Vlad's:

1.) Download all forms from the svots.edu website, then warm up your form-filling-out arm

2.) Be prepared to write a three-to-four page essay about yourself in regard to your desire to attend seminary

3.) Get a copy of your baptismal certificate (if you don't have one, talk to your priest)

4.) Set up an appointment with your doctor for a physical ( a requirement before being accepted)

5.) Contact your bishop and petition him for his blessing on your desire to apply to seminary

6.) Start thinking fun thoughts, such as, "How am I going to feed my family, pay my bills and pay for school?!?"  And then realize that if God can bring you to St. Vlad's, he can take you through St. Vlad's.

..........

Today, I am in High Point, North Carolina to set up my company's showroom in anticipation of the  fall 2008 furniture "Market" season.  I will be tending and mending furniture that retails for (in some cases) more than the estimated value of my house.  I am NOT kidding, or exaggerating.  Mind, my house isn't all that nice and I live in a notoriously small Georgia town, but how can a single piece of furniture retail for over $70k?  People will make appointments to come visit our showroom in a week or so, and will spend obscene amounts of money on our furniture.  

........

As I finish writing this post, I find myself back at home after a difficult week of pre-market set up.  I find myself more and more unsure about being involved with this sort of business on any level, though I know some very good people who wouldn't think twice about this sort of thing.  It's just a job, it's just business.   But this is 'compartmentalized thinking', and I can't buy into it.  We don't live in a two-storey universe, as Fr Stephen Freeman has said many times in his podcasts (which I highly recommend).  We live in a world that is at once both physical and spiritual.  God is not somehow relegated to another existence apart from the one that we mistakenly refer to as "the one, true reality".  He is here and now, and by way of His Son and through His Spirit reveals the kingdom which is here and is to come.  That kingdom is 'the norm', not this world.  That being the fact, I struggle with Christianity being shaped and molded to fit the so-called demands of this world.  I struggle with my company's three-point priority list, in which the third point states that my company will "honor God in all we do".

How will I deal with parishoners who don't see the importance of taking on this struggle and allowing it to transform their lives?  How will I deal with myself when I try to make this world into 'the norm' by which I judge those persons around me, as if I were the master of my first- storey existence and God was somewhere else?

I am struck by the incredible self-indulgence that my "christian" company seeks to sell to those who are seeking to find a way to fill in their (often times) empty existence.  No matter how beautiful the 'junk' is, it is still ultimately just junk.  Beautiful to be sure, and a form of our God-given creative drive which gives Him glory in some way.  But at the end of the day, a $12,000 armoire is still $12,000 worth of junk.  It will burn.  Hopefully we won't  burn with it.

St. Vlad's Seminary: the continuing saga of application submission

I believe that I have finally put the three-to-four page autobiographical essay behind me, as of 11:30 p.m. last night.  I managed to cram three-to-four pages into six.  I found handwriting to be a painful experience, as most of my writing these days is limited to a few numbers and words on a 'cut list' (which is furniture-speak for "list of parts and their respective measurements for the purpose of manufacturing a piece of furniture").

I have finished Fr Alexander Schmemman's Journal... , which was wonderful.  It was like looking through a small porthole into his inner life and thoughts.  I love his attention to the beauty of the weather and the 'natural world' as he perceived it during drives to Labelle or on his walks from the office to chapel.  I have the same sense of a 'cleansing' while driving to or from work through the hills of Georgia.  Especially during the fall.  I recently received a promotion at work, which has me stationed in a small 'cave' inside of our factory, and far removed from the above mentioned hills.  But recently I was afforded an opportunity to experience humility by returning to my former 'lower position' as furniture builder at our design studio.  This returned me to the necessity of that drive through the hills.  I was not looking forward to missing the fall color this year, being stuck in my little white-collar cave.  But now, I have at least a small opportunity to see some color for a little while.  Small unexpected blessings are sometimes the best of all.

It seems to me that in this case, I was given something that I did not want, that I even resisted, and received something that was totally unexpected.   It was humbling to be asked to go back and do a job that I had literally quit.  I had no choice, it was a command, and it certainly was unfair and a bit of a 'dirty trick'.  But what I found was that it was what I needed, and I am not looking forward to leaving.  What I wanted vs. what I needed.  Oh, great mystery.

They Sang As They Slew: a New-Old rehearsal space

[Introductory note: As I was writing the following post, I realized that I may not have explained clearly that I am a part of a rock band called They Sang As They Slew. We formed in Toccoa, GA, and were originally known as Canary. We are currently signed and have released two albums on Northern Records. I also am a part of a now-ancient rock band called Luxury, which has released records with Tooth and Nail, Bulletproof and Northern. I will try to provide some more back story for both of these entities in the future...]

Sunday night (9/21) was our first night practicing again since we were unceremoniously ejected from our previous practice space of ten years in late August. "Ejected" is probably too harsh a word. We were located in John West's building in downtown Toccoa for about ten years, using different rooms in different parts of the building. He charged us practically no rent and was very patient with the presence of a rock band in his office space for that whole time. He truly was a patron of the arts, whether intentionally or unintentionally. We owe him a debt of gratitude.

Nonetheless, we weren't all that happy to be given two weeks notice to move out, essentially without any warning. But that's the way things work, I suppose. For me, these sorts of changes
seem to coincide with bigger life changes, and sometimes unexpectedly. Yesterday, I gave our parish priest a reference form to be filled out by him and sent to St. Vlad's as part of my application process. If accepted, my life in TSATS is probably over, which leaves me with a sort-of empty feeling in my stomach. What will the guys do? How will they take it when they see a definite point in the future that denotes the end of my being in the band? I can hardly believe that this is a possibility myself. I have been in bands since I was seventeen. Literally two decades of rock have been generated with my fingers and the sweat of my brow. The greater majority of that time has been spent in Canary/TSATS. This is both a wonderful and difficult time for me. Change is always wonderful in it's expectation and difficult in it's termination.

But back to the new practice space... About ten years ago, our drummer's dad allowed us to use a part of his basement (which he subsequently sound-proofed) as a rehearsal space. Now, our drummer is renting that house from his parents and we find ourselves back in that same room. Aaron and I spent much of our first practice remembering that time ten years ago. Strange, strange, strange. So many feelings and memories tied in with that short period, and they all sort of percolate beneath the surface when re-encountering that old, familiar space. It seems so much smaller, now!

Mogwai, live, and rock music pensiveness...

As I mentioned in my previous post, I had the opportunity to see Scottish post-rock band Mogwai in Atlanta on Monday. It was my first experience of this band live since I started listening to them at the suggestion of my friend ,Rob Bupp, exactly ten years ago.

They were quite good at moments and quite boring at others. Being a loyal fan of their work, I am tempted be less honest, but the fact remains that they had their less-than-stellar moments. But where they were good, they absolutely soared. They truly are the current 'kings of dynamic' and simple melodic patterns. The tunes they play might be something that you would hum to yourself while walking in a forest or looking out over some vast, desolate place, or standing and staring at traffic whir past in a blur. At times, they are the sound of buildings collapsing, at others they are the sound of waves lapping quietly.

It is a curious fact to me that so many Christian kids seem to like these sorts of bands (instrumental bands), in particular. Is it that, because they have no offensive words, they are safe from mom and dad's critique? Is it because they allow room for one to quote-unquote-worship as one sees fit? Is it simply that Christian kids are starting to see that there is a whole world of art outside of the narrow, and at times blasphemous, Christian Contemporary music/art world? Who knows, and I'm not sure that this all that important to anyone other than the blood-sucking Christian music and art industry.

I am a musician who feels like he's finally reached the bottom of a well that has run dry. I love to write and play music, and I find value and enjoyment in that creativity, but it is so inward-looking and self-oriented that I am having a hard time finding any justification for playing the role of the rock star guy. What I know is that if all I can do is talk about my struggles, interests, problems, joys, ideas etc. from only the perspective of the inward-looking eye, then I will be doing no one any good, especially myself. And I'm not sure that there is much room, if any, in rock music for someone who does the opposite without compromising the very nature of rock music.

Does rock music ever move people outside of themselves toward God in a radical abandonment of self? I really want to know if this is possible. I think that it, like so much else in this imperfect, but wonderful, world feeds our passions and desires and distracts us from silence. It is such an excellent substitute for that silence, filling our every moment with a noise that allows us to ignore an opportunity for transcendent inner prayer. Of course I am saying all this while wearing my iPod and listening to a mix ("Ageless Beauty" by Stars was first up).

It frightens me...literally, it frightens me...that in a very few short years rock bands have become totally normal in evangelical circles as leaders of worship. Within a church service, no less. What's more, the transition was so simple, so natural that it took no more than a decade to make the switch. A rock band stands in front of people in order to receive adulation for their art. At least in a best-case scenario. The fact that this fits so naturally into a church setting is a statement about the nature of things in evangelical circles.

The Church, in evangelical circles, must follow culture, be submissive to culture in order to maintain contact with the people in that culture. But just like the boy who follows the tide out in order to stay in the water, evangelical church groups are moving further and further away from where they started, in a hopeless effort to keep people attracted to the Church. It would not be so much of a problem if the Church could call people back to where we started, but in trying to change the "non-essentials" (worship) these groups are slowly, but most assuredly, compromising belief, doctrine and knowledge of the Church itself, cutting themselves of from "the deposit of faith". How we worship should inform what we believe to be true. That is the way the Church works (or at least how it should work). We are so shocked to see fellow Christian groups become deluded into ordaining openly gay men and women. But why? These groups are only staying contextually relevant to the culture. Somewhere we have to draw a line, and unfortunately many evangelical groups have forgotten what a line looks like and how to draw.

Elevation of the Cross, September 14, filling out forms...

I finally started the process of form fillage (in other words, filling out the forms) for St. Vlad's. The application process seems pretty straight-forward, though I still need to write the "three to four page paper" describing myself and my interest in enrolling in St. Vlad's (which is next on my agenda). It's always interesting to sort of take stock of one's self in this way, though it may indicate a tendency toward narcissism...which calls into question the very notion of writing a blog. Is it sharing or is it pride? But I digress. I will be curious to see what surfaces when I make an official effort to take an interior look at myself and my motivations for pursuing seminary.

What are my goals? What is my desire? How far off the mark are these things from where I should be? In what ways am I living that nurtures my isolation and tendency toward vanity and self-flattery? Do I want to become a priest, and if so, am I doing it only in order to "guide others" and "show them better ways to live"? Not that those are bad things in and of themselves, I just doubt my own motivations.

I have been deeply enjoying Fr Alexander Schmemman's ...Journals... for the last couple of weeks. I think that it should be required reading...well, at least strongly suggested reading for potential candidates for the priesthood who are 'coming up' within St. Vlad's. One of the things that he stressed in one of his entries was the importance of truly knowing the joy of Christ, and passing that need on to his seminarians. That was far more crucial to him than they become "good guides" and theologians (think: Christian philosophers), at least in the sense that he experienced the desires of the seminarians of his time.

My greatest fear is to be entrusted with the care of a flock, only to infect them with my own diseases: a terrible tendency to become myopic about the 'rule' of faith and an sad indifference to those who suffer around me. I have to admit these things.

In any case, my wife and I are going to St. Vlad's for a visit in November and are looking forward to what we believe will be a clarifying journey. Fr Alexander talks in his journals about a sense of calling he had that drew him from St. Sergius Institute to St. Vlad's. He says it wasn't some sort of voice from heaven, but was more or less the reality of accumulated events. The decision essentially made itself. He had a sense of (thinking of Abraham) "arise and go". I think that my wife and I are seeing a similar accumulation of events. And the "arise and go" seems to be getting clearer each day.


Reading: The Journals of Father Alexander Schmemman 1973-1983 by Alexander Schmemman, Mountain of Silence by Kiriakos Markides,

Listening to: Audio lecture on the Theotokos by Fr Thomas Hopko, M83 Saturday=Youth, Justice Cross, Mew Frengers, Bloc Party Silent Alarm, with smatterings of Grizzly Bear, Simple Minds, Mogwai, Sigur Ros...

Recent events: Saw Mogwai at the Variety Playhouse last night...it was the loudest thing I have ever heard...was shocked that they played some of my faves from Ten Rapid. I will post thoughts on this later....

Now, where was I?

I find it difficult to believe that I've neglected this blog for nearly four years.  So much has happened in the intervening years.  In December of 2004, on the Eve of the Feast of the Nativity, my wife and I were chrismated and brought into the Orthodox Church.  About two weeks later, my wife gave birth to our second son on the eve of Theophany.  My two boys were baptized and chrismated in February of 2005 and our whole family had become "one" in the Church.  

Several months later, I was tonsured as a Reader by Archbishop Dmitri (OCA, Diocese of Dallas and the South).  Since that time I have served as a Reader, an altar server and a choir director in our small parish in Toccoa, Georgia.

It has truly been a rich and wonderful experience as a new Orthodox Christian these past four years.   It hasn't always been a perfect, easy-going relationship with others in our parish, but we have had the chance to embrace reality and to wrestle with our own passions.   Things have had the opportunity to get "ugly" as they say in the South.  But with that ugliness, we have seen so much good blossom and grow.   

And now, my wife and I and our kids are looking to our own future apart from this community that essentially "birthed" us into the Faith.  I am considering (with my Bishop's blessing) applying to attend St. Vladimir's Orthodox Theological Seminary in the fall of 2009.  This will mean enormous changes for my family.  We have been located in Toccoa since I moved here to attend college in 1988 (I was 17 and married wife three years later).   We have a house here.  We have a church family here.  It is comfortable being here.  It would be easy to stay.

I grew up as a pastor's kid.  My dad was a protestant minister for about twenty-five years.  It was not an easy life for us kids, always moving from place to place, and never really feeling settled anywhere.  I have enjoyed the sensation of stability over these last two decades.  I saw how hard it was to be a pastor and I swore I would never follow in my dad's footsteps.

I still was repeating that oath as recently as three months ago.  I was given a promotion at work, which was the answer (so I thought) to my growing dissatisfaction with my working life.  What followed was frustration, and a realization that maybe I was looking to the wrong things for satisfaction.   That maybe I had been looking to the wrong things for a long time and hadn't even realized it.

Enter my brother Lee suggesting that Kate and I join him and Amy as they went to St. Vlad's in November .  They had cemented their plans to attend the seminary, with the intention that Lee pursue the priesthood.  They really wanted to see the seminary, meet with faculty and students, and generally prepare themselves.  We were to go as their support team.  

I was eager to go for a second visit to St. Vlad's; my first visit having been in January 2006 for my friend, Fr Christopher's, ordination.   It was a surprisingly wonderful experience, not that I expected to have a bad time.  But I went away with a nagging feeling that I might have some unfinished business with the seminary.

Back to 2008...Lee asks us to make the trip with him and Amy, we agree.  And then, even as I renew my oath in the "I'll Never Be A Pastor" club, a scary thought dawns on me: maybe that's where my calling is.  Maybe that is the root of my dissatisfaction.   And suddenly, this trip to New York seemed to be taking on all new, unexpected dimensions.  For the first time, instead of saying "No" to the pastorate, the priesthood, I was saying, "Maybe..."

Our trip is still two months away.  We are trying to deal with what we are increasingly seeing as a "strong possibility" (attending seminary) turning into a "strong desire".  Much to our surprise.  We have moved past the "wow" stage in our contemplation and are starting to look at the cold, hard facts.  We will be far away from Katie's family (a definite hardship for her especially, but for all of us too), we will be moving from our parish, and the only town the boys have ever known.  We will have to give away, sell, throw away or store everything we own.  We will have to sell the house, which has been in Katie's family since the early '80's.  We have so many memories tied up in this place.

But at the same time Katie and I are really sensing that change is in the wind for us, regardless.  It seems that no matter what the outcome of our trip to St. Vlad's, we will be making some big changes in our life.   One of which may be that I will have to give up my membership in the "I'll Never Be A Pastor" club.  And if this happens, no one will be more surprised

than me.

I wonder how strange that sounds to other people.   There is a real "positive tension" (to steal a song title from Bloc Party) that I feel in such statements.  My priest and I have discussed this idea of a calling to the priesthood at some length.  Of his own calling, he has said, "If there was some way that I could have avoided it I would have, but I simply couldn't".   I am starting to wonder if I am in the same boat.  I have never desired to be a pastor, but maybe God wants to use that anti-desire for His own glory.   The priesthood?  Who knows.  But to bring glory to God is everyone's calling.  My I answer my own calling fully and willingly.

In our beginnings...

I guess this is where I start. My name is Jamey. I am a musician by desire, a furniture maker by necessity, a father and husband by God's grace, and a new Orthodox convert by His amazing Hand. For some people this will seem like a perfectly normal list, though they may take exception to the rather "spiritual" or "religious" bent to it. It is something that I can apolegize for no more than I can say that I'm sorry that I'm an American. This is how life has happened to me, and I'm thankful that God has brought me to this place.

I named this blog "Are you the light?" after a song that I recently threw together. It is a question that radiates in all directions. It is aimed at the God I have found, and asks the question almost rhetorically, because I know the answer. It is a question for myself: am I being "light" that brightens and illumines the lives around me? It is a good question to ponder. And it sounds kind of neat (lest we forget the more esthetic factors).

Light is good because it dispels the darkness and exposes Tuth as Truth and lies as lies. Light brings joy after a time spent in the dark, it brings knowledge out of the unperceiving blackness, it allows things to grow and become fruitful in its radiation. Are you the light?