| At the highpoint of the storm this week, I went into the house and divested myself of raingear. From where I sat in the dining room, I could see the torrents of water tearing down the hill and overflowing culverts and sandbag water-bars. Roads were closing everywhere due to sides, school was canceled, but somehow the electricity had stayed on (for the moment). Turning from the window view, an icon of Saint Seraphim of Sarov caught my eye and I remembered that his relics were to be presented for veneration on Sunday for his feast. Having a moment, I pull his life from the bookshelf and turned providentially to this paragraph: “At the age of 10, he became seriously ill. During the course of his illness, he saw the Mother of God in his sleep, who promised to heal him. Several days later there was a procession through the town with the locally revered miracle-working icon of the Mother of God. Due to bad weather, the procession took an abbreviated route past the house. His mother carried Seraphim outside to venerate the miracle-working icon, and he was healed.” Truly, “all things work together for those who love God” (Rm. 8:28), even bad weather. Weather, being a part of creation, is fallen just like me and you. Sometimes it behaves and sometimes it throws a fit and does unexplainable thins. When in a good state, it’s a blessing to everyone, but when dark and cloudy it can do unexpected and lasting damage. So what do we have to learn from bad weather? Patience: waiting for the electricity to come back on, dealing with the leak in the roof, mud on the floor that the kids tramped in, and the host of other inconveniences. Peace: driving slower to be safe, lighting candles, sitting quietly in the dark with a warm drink, praying with faith and trust for the things we cannot control. Simplicity: wondrously liberated from technology for even a few hours, playing a board game with family or friends, more communication and less entertainment. But most importantly of all, bad weather reminds us we are not God, and that desiring to impose our will on everything around us, wanting everything to be “the way I want it,” is just goofy. When bad weather takes control, we are reminded (if we want to recognize it) that our plans and assumptions in life are mostly ridiculous when they are not aiming to be God’s plans and His will. |
| A child who is, to the contrary, entangled in the virtual tentacles of the octopus of computer games, really does appear bloodless in the eyes of a trained specialist. He looses interest in living life, all his reactions are dulled, and he seeks no friendship with his peers. He becomes Kay of Han Christian Anderson’s fairy tale, and finds himself in the land of icy hearts, an eternal captive of the Snow Queen, playing his melancholy game of Hermann Hesse’s computer beads, repeating together with the story’s famous heroine the words, “Freedom or no freedom, it’s all the same.” He has lost the will to live. He no longer dreams about the future, he has fallen into a slavery of the most horrendous kind — computer instincts. His soul becomes filled ever more each day with aggression, pride, and fornication. All this is made even worse by the fact that it is all coming about in a hidden way — in the form of computer games. - You have described a terrifying scenario. What antidote is there? - It seems to me that any means are good. Furthermore, I think that it is now time for more active ways of using spare time. I am willing to remember the famous soviet era words to teenagers, “O sport, you are the world!” Let your child be completely worn out by sessions at the swimming pool, let him disappear in the stadium. Let him love communion with horses more than with people —only let him be protected from computer horrors. Of course, we should praise those child-care workers, teachers, educators, and parents who succeed in inculcating a love for living nature in children. Having traveled around the provinces, I am convinced of the great importance of a child’s contact with living earth. The deep provinces still retain the practice, begun by rural soviet era schools, of obligating the children to work a certain number of hours on the school grounds, growing plants. This is wonderful! Our dear little children see the fruits of their labors. They are present at the miracle of inception and growth of a new life —from a seed to a flower, or even a carrot... But for a child living in the big city this unfathomable miracle is, alas, unattainable. |
| But here also other questions arise: Beyond all of that, has the smart phone become an extension of our very being? Does it seem to be permanently glued to our ears and/or attached to our hands? Are we lost without it? Do we call and chat in order to… call and chat? (What happened to the spiritual gift of silence?) After all, just a few years ago, we did live without cell or smart phones. There are styles, colors, sizes, and an endless array of features that turn the smart phone into either a status symbol or a toy—primarily for adults, of course. (Though, at what age now are children equipped with their own phones?). Texting and twittering are producing a certain type of “illiteracy” that is making a wince-creating wreck of the English language, as in “I luv U.” Grammar, spelling, and compound sentences are treated as intrusive. The menus are astonishing for their complexity. The internet is now on your smart phone! And it is also a ready-made camera: Quick! There’s little Johnny running in the years…. How adorable! Is it possible or even meaningful to show any restraint when living in an age of the screen? If not, then we may be facing the following downward trajectory that can quickly spiral out of control: Attractions become attachments; attachments become obsessions; and obsessions become addictions. Or, as the holy Fathers teach, we become the playthings of our “passions.” We are no longer in control, but under control of our impulses. As asceticism is not puritanism, so restraint is not repression. All of our ascetical lenten efforts are ultimately directed to our freedom and liberation—to some degree at least—from the myriad dependencies that occupy our bodies and souls. To fast from meat but then to sit in front of the computer for hours surfing, shopping, game-playing, facebooking and blogging somehow points to a disconnect with the overall goal of Great Lent as a “school of repentance” or “journey toward Pascha.” Professionally and vocationally, we may be living in the age of the screen. I know that I am. I enjoy and try and make something positive of a “cyberspace ministry,” in fact. The irony of writing this meditation on the computer and then launching it out into cyberspace so you will have one more thing to read is not lost on me. |
| " Limits were very strict. For example, the maximum allowed print run for the Bible was 10,000 copies, although according to our rough statistics the number of believers who needed the Bible was no less than sixty million people. " One of the only prayers for which the department was granted a maximum limit of 1.5 million was the prayer for the dead that is placed on the forehead of the reposed at burial. " Most other print runs were small, but one and a half million is something… So here is what we did: we printed a prayer for the living on the reverse side! They were all sold immediately… " Outsmarting the authorities. Vladyka " s inventiveness extended to his direct dealings with the anti-religious authorities, who had the power to close down the publishing department, should they so decide. Calculated game-playing would not have been sufficient, however. One had to have a heart, and basic faith in human nature. " I, of course, am not a typical " product of the soviet epoch, " but I did have to go through the whole soviet school of Marxism and political economy, and therefore I was able to play on it. For example, Kuroyedov had a chief assistant, with whom we had particular problems. One day I had a conversation with him as the director of an ecclesiastical publishing house. The discussion turned to the subject of Patriarch Tikhon and his relationship to the Soviet authorities, and then that assistant threw me a wonderful " ball. " He said, " Well, we do not doubt that you are loyal to the Soviet authorities. " I paused, and said, " You know, you have insulted me! I won " t forgive you for that! " He was a man from the central apparatus, " sensitive, " and starting worrying. " How? How did I insult you? " " You called me loyal, but I am normal, " I said, then added, " Furthermore, you were born under the Tsar, but I was born under the Soviet regime. " I had no problem with him from then on. " Atheism, in my view, is not so much an error as it is incorrectly chosen premises. Somewhere along the line conjecture, inertia, or narrowness of views came into play—in other words, a collection of secondary factors. I have associated with [communist] party figures under trusting circumstances, and I often saw in them simply good Russian people. " I would like to believe, " they would say, " but they never taught me… " |
| lots of times now I just think of them WITHOUT thinking, you know. I”ve got so used to playing it. It”s a lovely game. F-father and I used to like it so much,” she faltered. “I suppose, though, it–it”ll be a little harder now, as long as I haven”t anybody to play it with. Maybe Aunt Polly will play it, though,” she added, as an after-thought. “My stars and stockings!–HER!” breathed Nancy, behind her teeth. Then, aloud, she said doggedly: “See here, Miss Pollyanna, I ain”t sayin” that I”ll play it very well, and I ain”t sayin” that I know how, anyway; but I”ll play it with ye, after a fashion–I just will, I will!” “Oh, Nancy!” exulted Pollyanna, giving her a rapturous hug. “That”ll be splendid! Won”t we have fun?” “Er–maybe,” conceded Nancy, in open doubt. “But you mustn”t count too much on me, ye know. I never was no case fur games, but I”m a-goin” ter make a most awful old try on this one. You”re goin” ter have some one ter play it with, anyhow,” she finished, as they entered the kitchen together. Pollyanna ate her bread and milk with good appetite; then, at Nancy”s suggestion, she went into the sitting room, where her aunt sat reading. Miss Polly looked up coldly. “Have you had your supper, Pollyanna?” “Yes, Aunt Polly.” “I”m very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged so soon to send you into the kitchen to eat bread and milk.” “But I was real glad you did it, Aunt Polly. I like bread and milk, and Nancy, too. You mustn”t feel bad about that one bit.” Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair. “Pollyanna, it”s quite time you were in bed. You have had a hard day, and to-morrow we must plan your hours and go over your clothing to see what it is necessary to get for you. Nancy will give you a candle. Be careful how you handle it. Breakfast will be at half-past seven. See that you are down to that. Good-night.” Quite as a matter of course, Pollyanna came straight to her aunt”s side and gave her an affectionate hug. “I”ve had such a beautiful time, so far,” she sighed happily. “I |
| Next, to complete the hubbub, a serf child which had been clouted by its mother broke out into a bawl, while a borzoi puppy which had happened to get splashed with boiling water by the cook fell to yelping vociferously. In short, the place soon became a babel of shouts and squeals, and, after watching and listening for a time, the barin found it so impossible to concentrate his mind upon anything that he sent out word that the noise would have to be abated. The next item was that, a couple of hours before luncheon time, he withdrew to his study, to set about employing himself upon a weighty work which was to consider Russia from every point of view: from the political, from the philosophical, and from the religious, as well as to resolve various problems which had arisen to confront the Empire, and to define clearly the great future to which the country stood ordained. In short, it was to be the species of compilation in which the man of the day so much delights. Yet the colossal undertaking had progressed but little beyond the sphere of projection, since, after a pen had been gnawed awhile, and a few strokes had been committed to paper, the whole would be laid aside in favour of the reading of some book; and that reading would continue also during luncheon and be followed by the lighting of a pipe, the playing of a solitary game of chess, and the doing of more or less nothing for the rest of the day. The foregoing will give the reader a pretty clear idea of the manner in which it was possible for this man of thirty-three to waste his time. Clad constantly in slippers and a dressing-gown, Tientietnikov never went out, never indulged in any form of dissipation, and never walked upstairs. Nothing did he care for fresh air, and would bestow not a passing glance upon all those beauties of the countryside which moved visitors to such ecstatic admiration. From this the reader will see that Andrei Ivanovitch Tientietnikov belonged to that band of sluggards whom we always have with us, and who, whatever be their present appellation, used to be known by the nicknames of " lollopers, " " bed pressers, " and " marmots. " Whether the type is a type originating at birth, or a type resulting from untoward circumstances in later life, it is impossible to say. A better course than to attempt to answer that question would be to recount the story of Tientietnikov " s boyhood and upbringing. |
| One of the mistakes we beginners make as we are learning to purify our thoughts is that we attempt to control our thoughts by our will, or we try to counter one thought with another. It doesn’t take long to realize that thoughts cannot be controlled by will power: Don’t think of a pink elephant! Once you set your mind not to do something, your mind is already doing it. Forcing yourself not to think about something only increases your thinking about it. The second technique, that of countering one thought with another, sometimes works–which is the problem. Countering thoughts with thoughts sometimes moves our minds away from a specific thought that we want to flee, but such countering often creates a cycle of argumentation in our mind. Soon we find ourselves mentally constructing arguments against antagonists that don’t even exist–except in our mind. One of the Desert Fathers said that arguing with your thoughts is like trying to drive away dogs by throwing biscuits at them. A well aimed blow may spook the first dog, but will only attract more dogs. In my experience, the best way to deal with disordered and wicked thoughts is for me to turn my mind towards God. When I do this, the thoughts will be screaming at me, but if I ignore them and engage God in a short and repeated prayer, the thoughts begin to lose their traction in me. The Jesus Prayer is a good example of this sort of prayer, but it is not the only prayer I have used successfully. Sometimes a short prayer to the Theotokos or another saint is effective. Other times, a short passage of Scripture is very effective. Once when I was intensely worried about how my mistakes may be hurting others, I repeated ceaselessly (or at least whenever I was bothered by worrying thoughts–which seemed ceaseless) “Lord, let none who wait on Thee be ashamed because of me” (Psalms 24/25: 3). It took some time and effort, but before too long, I was seeing victory over my disturbing thoughts. When we call out to God, He comes to our aid. I have discovered that I am not smart enough nor strong enough to battle my disordered thoughts. As soon as I notice that I am being besieged, I turn to God and fervently cry out for help. And God does help. The Jesus Prayer and similar prayers are not “Christian mantras.” We are not merely playing a mental game. Like Peter drowning in the sea, we are calling out desperately: “Lord, save me!” And the Lord has compassion and saves. |
| …Soon another kayak turned up and I told them my good news of the latitude. In reply they wished me a happy Trinity day and said they had killed a bear on the way. Isn’t it a lucky day for us. Last time we ate a bear at the ship last year, I think, in September, and since then could only dream about this game. And suddenly, when we had so little provisions left, and we have burned nearly everything for fuel, including a spare couple of oars and linen (though teeming with parasites), suddenly in this critical moment fate sends us a mountain of excellent meat…With the meat we got fuel as well, since the bear is so fat. Isn’t it strange that this unexpected valuable gift we got exactly when we needed it and on St. Trinity’s day? The Providence does want to strengthen us, lacking faith and weak. I can’t describe how uplifted we were by this present.» Throughout June the travellers gradually moved towards South. The situation was complicated by the fact that Albanov didn’t have a good map, and couldn’t locate their exact whereabouts. The navigator’s greatest fear was the absence of the land in the direction where they were moving with the drifting ice. Besides, the ice was rearranging itself «every minute… as if some giants were playing with each other on an enormous chessboard». On one of the patrols «we were surprised to discover ski tracks on one of the ice-floes. Closer examination convinced us that we were looking at our own tracks, and that this ice floe had caught up with us as a result of a change of current. How is one supposed to proceed over this sort of ice? On the surface, once achieves no more success than a squirrel in a wheel-cage…» However, on June 22 the travellers saw the land/earth on the horizon. They managed to reach it with great difficulty by July 11. It turned out to be Alexandra land, cape Mary Harmsworth (Franz Josef Land). Here the travellers found a note which had been left by the English expedition of Jackson-Harmsworth in 1897. The note told them of their location. |
| So the next time you see athletes denying themselves in order to achieve excellence, consider whether you take the practice of the Christian life as seriously as they take their sport. Let their example be a reminder that people are usually willing to struggle and sacrifice for what they love most in life. For us, shouldn’t that be Jesus Christ? And if we are not willing to take up our cross and follow Him by taking intentional steps to reorient our lives toward His Kingdom, we need to ask just what game we are playing and what team we are on. Tweet Donate Share Code for blog High School Football and Orthodox Christian Asceticism Priest Philip LeMasters Where I live in West Texas, there is no shortage of asceticism, especially during the terribly hot month of August. That’s when high school football players and band members spend several hours each day practicing in the blazing sun. Members of the tennis team, cheerleaders, and other athletes do ... Since you are here… …we do have a small request. More and more people visit Orthodoxy and the World website. However, resources for editorial are scarce. In comparison to some mass media, we do not make paid subscription. It is our deepest belief that preaching Christ for money is wrong. Having said that, Pravmir provides daily articles from an autonomous news service, weekly wall newspaper for churches, lectorium, photos, videos, hosting and servers. Editors and translators work together towards one goal: to make our four websites possible - Pravmir.ru, Neinvalid.ru, Matrony.ru and Pravmir.com. Therefore our request for help is understandable. For example, 5 euros a month is it a lot or little? A cup of coffee? It is not that much for a family budget, but it is a significant amount for Pravmir. If everyone reading Pravmir could donate 5 euros a month, they would contribute greatly to our ability to spread the word of Christ, Orthodoxy, life " s purpose, family and society. Donate Related articles Fighting Boredom and Despondency Archpriest Michael Gillis I read the bible through the first time when I was in high school. I was… |
| The salvific cross which every person should consciously take up and carry with love – the cross which is the only means by which we can tear ourselves away from earthly attachments and passions – is cast off as an unbearable yoke. Outwardly bowing down before the great Cross of Christ and His Passion, singing the praises of the weapon of our salvation, one skillfully and inventively side-steps one’s own personal saving cross. Then what often occurs is a horrendous pseudo-spiritual life – a playing with spiritual life. This game, by giving birth to a false understanding of spirituality, has begun to swamp the world with false spirituality. It is becoming ever harder for the Church to stand up against this modern catastrophe which, by responding to people’s inner inclinations, leads them away from the saving way of the cross’ following after God, and toward a search for one’s “self,” which has already grown out of control in the soul and now directs one away from God. The difficulties and stumbling stones along the path of spiritual life are countless. It is the science of sciences, taught to us by the Holy Gospels and life situations sent by God. The spiritual child needs great patience and much time in order to understand his spiritual infirmity and be at peace with it, aware that only the Lord nurtures goodness in his soul – not he himself, nor his spiritual father. This is where the true spiritual life lies hidden – in the depth of humility. But the path to humility is long and extremely painful, especially in these pride-engulfed times. What tact and love, and again patience, does the spiritual father need in order to finally see the fruit of his life’s efforts ripen in his spiritual children, in order not to let the spiritual child fall faint in expectation and hope? And how could it be otherwise, when the Kingdom of Heaven does not even come to the soul in a noticeable way? Spiritual fruits grow and ripen, and this is the work of an entire lifetime. There is neither end nor limit. After all, our yearning and love is for an infinite, all-perfect, and eternal God. |
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