Kirkepiscatoid

That it may please thee to bring into the way of truth all such
as have erred, and are deceived,
We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord.

We err. We make poor judgments (are deceived.) That’s as old as mankind.

What’s the “way of truth” really mean?

Is it my opinion of the truth? No.
Is it someone else’s? No.

“Truth” is not as easy as it looks. We are all hamstrung by our own perceptions. In some ways, truth is as big a mystery as a lot of the “mystery” in God’s reign. Truth is elusive, veiled, hidden sometimes. At times, it can only be seen through the “retrospectoscope.” Other times, the truth is plain, right out there in front of you...but are you aware enough to SEE it when it is right there on the living room rug?

Truth isn’t always beautiful either, as the old phrase “the truth hurts” points out. The plain truth. The unvarnished truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The truth of Easter starts at the cross. That is a painful truth, indeed...that the Resurrection cannot occur without death.

I can never figure out how some folks can dwell on one without the other. Some folks get really into the gore of the Crucifixion. Others take the cross out of the picture entirely. I am always fascinated about people’s opinions of “crosses vs. crucifixes”. Although I don’t particularly like overly gory crucifixes, and a don’t like “weird modern art crucifixes,” and I don’t like like “Jesus the concentration camp lookin’ guy on a crucifix,” the empty cross doesn’t entirely make sense, either. As quoted in the movie about Jeffrey Dahmer, "When you think about it, the cross was a torture device, it’s like praying to an electric chair or a guillotine." (Arguably perhaps the only thing Jeffrey Dahmer and I might semi-agree upon.) If we were going to use an icon of the resurrection, the empty tomb, the rock rolled aside, would be a more representative choice.

As for myself, I also don’t like “prettified” empty crosses. Cross jewelry with lots of “pretty” (like lots of diamonds or little flowers and stuff) kind of mystifies me. The cross is not pretty. The mode of Jesus’ death is not at all pretty, and gussied up crosses sort of whitewash that. Now, with that said, I do like Celtic crosses, because I like the intricate designs and patterns on them. Maybe that is closer to the truth. This is a convoluted, intricate concept, superimposed on a simple reality.

So what IS the truth of the cross, occupied or bare?

The truth is, without this suffering and agony, there is no Resurrection. Without the absence of hope, when hope occurs, it can’t be recognized.

When we are separated from God, and we recognize this state, the pain of it is that hopelessness and fear of abandonment. Yet is precisely that hopelessness and fear of abandonment that spurs us to reconciliation, and eventually resurrection. We die to sin many, many times over in our life. We wallow in the dark pit of despair. But likewise, we are resurrected time and time again should we choose to be reconciled to our sins and be humbly repentant.

Maybe that is part of why I’m such a junkie about the Eucharist. For me, the greatest joy about being “churched” again is simply receiving the Sacrament. Some weeks it is the only thing that brings me to church, when I’m in a foul mood. I don’t deny the power of those who have a “conversion experience,” or those who prefer to be “saved” in a big one-time defining moment, but that methodology is not for me. I know me. As the weeks and months and years went by, that moment would get dimmer and dimmer until it’s more or less a form of legend for me. So much of my life that "is not the way it was" seems almost like legend. A story that happened to someone else. Not me. When things become legend to me, they don't hurt so much anymore if they are bad, and they don't feel as good anymore when they are good. So I recognize that a one-time experience of being "saved" for me, would, frankly, wear off.

I think it's a lot like the story about the two horses. One was "broke to ride" in "the cowboy way." When he was two years old, they saddled him and bridled him and "bronc'ed" him till he would allow being ridden. The other horse had been worked with in steps since he was a colt, being haltered when only weeks old, having blankets and saddles and bridles on him well before age two, having increasing weight put on him as he got a little older. So when someone actually got on and rode him, it was not a big deal. Both horses are "saddle horses." But one remembers a day that he "became a saddle horse" and the other sort of thinks, "Well, I've been a saddle horse all along." In my mind, evangelical Christians are the first kind of horse and liturgical Christians are the second kind of horse.

I realize it sort of is disconcerting to evangelical Christians that liturgical Christians really don't recall "being saved", or might sort of vaguely point at their baptism or confirmation. But just because we don't remember it, doesn't mean it didn't happen. Lots of things have happened in my life that I don't really remember, or wasn't aware of, but I believe they happened just the same. So it's kind of their concern, but not mine. I am absolutely confident that I belong to God, even though they might have their doubts. (But I confess if they get really distressed, I tell about a time when I was like 9 or 10 years old and was hiding in the tool shed while my parents argued, and had a conversation with God that "I did not want to live a life like this and I really need you to show me how to do this." That story seems to ease their distress, so ok...whatever.)

I am a person who needs to be reminded a lot. I like Eucharistic worship because, frankly, I NEED that reminder of my redemption, my salvation, and my resurrection on a regular basis. If I go out of town over a weekend, I miss it. I still think about how the very first thing my friend C. and I did, after he met me at the airport, jet-lagged, in England, was go to church. It seemed sort of surreal with the six hour time difference and the fact I didn’t sleep very well, but it felt good just the same. I felt the “gap” on the Sunday coming home and missing church. I was adding it up, and I think in the last three years I have missed getting the Sacrament weekly...um...four times. For lack of any deep philosophical reason, I just miss it too much. I went 20some years and maybe got it like once or twice a year in those times...some years none. I have a lot of catching up to do!

I realize that I want to be redeemed and healed on a weekly basis more than I have ever wanted ANYTHING. It might be one of the few real “wants and needs” I have. I don’t sit around and want a new house or new golf clubs or a new truck or new clothes in that way. Dealing with my personal errors and deceptions is not fun, and it’s not pretty, but it’s the path I have to take to get to the Sacrament and feel good about it.