Glad you agree.

Here’s the basic problem:  God in the OT seems mean– we’ve got plagues, floods wiping out earth, destruction, wandering in deserts, wars, etc., and of course, the biggie, the expulsion from Eden.  And then in the NT, in walks Jesus, who’s all about love and kindness and challenging other people’s lifestyles, and who, in many an idyllic view, never seemed to raise his voice or what have you.  The people who see these as highly incompatible have a good point– these don’t really fit.  But they then face the logical problem of this:  if God is truly God as we describe him, his nature ought to be constant.  That is, we say God is Love, God is Truth, etc., and these things don’t change.  Why, then, does God?

And if he does change, why is he worth our worship?  Can’t we pick the one we like better?

I think at the heart of this, though, is a misunderstanding of our predicament as sinners.  I’m like most people, I think, in that I think of most people as basically good people.  I like to think of myself as basically a good person.  And I think (and hope!) there are merits in these opinions.  But we have to understand divine-human relations as, well, a relationship– with the same principle behind it as any relationship:  namely, that it can be broken.

At my university, as at several, and particularly at military colleges, there is an honor code or honor system as you prefer.  Some schools with an honor system have varying punishments, but the strongest honor system schools only have one:  you’re out.  Why?  Because they understand that at the heart of every relationship is trust, and to break trust is to break the relationship.  All that remains is to sever formal ties;  it’s merely a formality.

This is where we stand as human beings.  We’ve broken the relationship between us and God– thousands of times, each of us.  And God is Love, Truth, and Life– so when we leave him, we get Death, Lies, and Destruction.  That’s not a vengeful God of the OT;  that’s justice, as painful as it is to admit it.  Those punishments are what we all deserve.

So why the “difference” between OT and NT?  Well, Jesus.  Because throughout human history, the one God of testaments Old and New had a plan to restore us to him, to bridge the chasm our sin creates between us, with a bloodied cross as our passage.  It’s not that God’s supposed vengence goes away;  it’s that Christ takes upon himself a punishment that is, justly, ours.  As Paul says, the “wages of sin is death.”  That means that the eternal separation and death we deserve gets redirected at Christ, the innocent but willing victim.

The “problem” between OT and NT exists only as a problem of perspective.  Mostly, we like to think of ourselves as the good guys– I know I’d like to idealise myself as right there with John and Mary at the foot of the cross.  But the problem is, we’re really like the thieves hanging right beside Christ.  For those of us who know it, we know we are there justly, not at the whim of a cruel god, but nailed there by our own sins.  The only “difference” between the New Testament and the Old Testament God is that from the Crucifixion onward, there is the opportunity to be like the Good Thief.  That is, to know that our punishment is just, and yet claim Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf:

Remember me, when you come into your kingdom.

–Rosy

Rather, this is about one of “my” beggars.  Remember back in October, when I posted somewhat regularly (sorry!), and talked about my decision to give to beggars?  Well, I can gladly say I’ve kept up with it, and changed the rules around a bit.  I have some “regulars” that I give to, those who I see frequently enough that we recognise each other.  A couple of these people beg at my church.  One of them often begs at my metro stop.

In the beginning, because I saw her so frequently, I tried to give to the lady at the metro stop once or twice a week, figuring I couldn’t give more.  But around Christmas, I gave everybody extra, and I started giving the lady at my metro stop something every time.  My “limits” were only small hurdles I’d built for myself.

She’s always in the same coat.  She has a worn-looking crutch, and a worn-looking face, but it’s always made up a little bit, giving her a look oddly cheery despite her usual implacable sad face.  For over a month, I gave to her every time I saw her, and she smiled at me, and, like many beggars, thanked me profusely and, I think, asked God to bless me.  Then, a couple weeks ago, she actually told me to stop giving to her- I couldn’t understand it exactly, but I think she was saying something like, “I’m fine, you don’t have to give all the time.”

When you’ve seem somebody with a bandaged foot begging on the barely sheltered stairway of your metro station at midnight, well, it stays with you.  So I left off for about a week, before giving her another small bill and saying, “Sometimes it’s possible.”

I was going up the stairs after work and saw her tonight, and I was debating whether I should give tonight or not when she stopped me.  Tonight, she’s selling some roses, too, 100 roubles for 5 (they don’t do dozens here).  She told me to take some, so I picked up a pack of red ones, and she told me to take some white ones, too.  For 200 rubles to help someone who in some sense is nearly a friend, well, it’s not much.

But when I reached for my wallet, she told me not to pay.  I thanked her a lot, and as I started to leave she asked me my name and I asked hers.  Please remember Masha in your prayers.

There are many things I could say, but it comes down to the love of God touching us through each other.  She’s given more than I have, I who have plenty, and I can never repay her.  Ten roses sit in a jar on my dresser because the seed of generosity God planted in me grew in both our hearts.  I couldn’t keep my hard face on for the walk home– that face I use because everyone here seems to wear one.  I simply cradled the flowers and smiled to myself.

The idea of a garden flows throughout literature and popular metaphor for a reason.  It seems to me that God is ever looking to plant a new Eden in our hearts.  I am usually a poor gardener, but in this one small corner of it, I can see the true Gardener’s work, and it is good.

1.  So, just to catch up a bit… my grandmother actually came out and visited during the school vacation.  We saw quite a lot of things.. one really random one was the beauty that they decorated for New Years with here (New Years precedes and is bigger than Christmas in Russia).  It’s going to seem a bit silly, but…. here’s a pic from an underground mall– stunning.

They decorated one of the giant interchanges where you can see all 2 or 3 levels beautifully.

2.  We saw waaay too many things to post everything of, but we also hopped up to St. Petersburg and, having a nicer camera now than then, I did snap some more photos of the Church on Spilled Blood (Spas na Krovi) – the one you always see in photos of St.P.  It’s beautiful on the outside, but the inside was completely restored over a period of decades (wow) so that visitors can now see the beautiful mosaics– every surface is simply covered with mosaic icons.  Wow.

It's called the Church on Spilled Blood (or in Russian Savior on Blood) because it's the site of the assassination of Tsar Aleksandr II-- the tsar who abolished serfdom in 1861.

You can look everywhere and recognise saints and scenes telling the life of Christ.  I saw and bought a Gospel of Matthew with photos of the mosaics for illustration.

3.  So, about the crazy week.  We’ve had a leak from the washer for a while.  We got the school’s repairman out to look at it, he looked, got a new part, fixed it, and demonstrated to me it was all fine by turning it on.  All is well… so the next evening I threw in a load of clothes and came back to find Lake Erie on my bathroom floor– the old leak was fine, the new leak was significantly worse.  It took me an hour to mop it up.  The neighbors didn’t come up to yell though so I thought I might’ve squeaked by.  That’s until somebody started ringing my doorbell incessantly at ten to one in the morning (he came back Monday- must’ve been a random drunk…)  Long story short, the guy came back, it’s all fine with the neighbors, and my washing machine is in pieces in the bathroom.

4.  I showed up at a central school (30-40 mins from home) for an 8:30 AM class and my students didn’t… I work til 9 or 9:15 every night so I wish they’d called me… on the bright side, I read up on some news and planned my lessons for the day.

5.  My roommate and I were without power for about a day… luckily we came home last night to it being back on.  It was just us, which meant the building’s heat was fine, my gas stove was fine, and actually my internet was fine because it seriously comes in on an ethernet cable through a hole in my ceiling.  Sometimes there are benefits to it being tightly controlled (although it being wacky right when I had scheduled a catch-up call to the States was not cool- they fixed it though).   I am definitely grateful the repair guy got it going again.  My roommate and I were told to look at the fusebox, but all the apartments on our floor’s fuses were grouped together, no numbers, so we just tried all of them and nothing happened…. we put them all back though, too.

6.  The evening without power was nice– my roommate and I chatted by candlelight in the kitchen and it was cozy.  I was, however, glad not to be washing my clothes by hand by candlelight last night.

7.  The cool thing was though a friend and I went out to a small town about 130km from Moscow by train and wandered around their kremlin (many old cities/towns have them– the word means something like fortress, maybe watchtower?).  There wasn’t much there but it was nice to be out of the city.  The kremlin had a small museum focused on the region’s history in general.  Apparently it took quite a hit in the War– like every other area of the USSR and central Europe within Nazi reach.  Here’s a pic of the Volokolamsk Kreml:

Anyway, okay, photos and stories as my pay-off… er, thank you for sticking with the blog even though I’ve been terrible about updating it.  :)  Hopefully I can fix that.

Thanks,

-theRosyGardener

All three (including Maddie) have great voices.  They also had great stories and great personalities.  They were complimented on their honest, authentic performances, which were not carbon copies of the original artists but expressed themselves.

I think a lot of that has to do with the lives these three have lived.  Many people are close to their grandmothers;  not many 16 year olds spend their free time hanging out with grandma, or are, like Katie Stevens, prepared to talk about singing for her and winning for her before she can’t remember who they are anymore.  Seventeen year olds can’t vote or smoke or drink;  and yet at that age, Jermain Sellers began taking care of his sick mother.  And while, despite the huge efforts of parents of kids with Down’s in the last 40 years to mainstream them, many struggle with the idea of having a person with Down’s in their family, Maddie Curtis is proud of her four brothers with the condition.

American Idol and shows like it are great at introducing us to people with great talent and interesting stories.  But I imagine that many other people also found these three stories particularly touching, and these three talented people endearing.  And I think it’s because these three people have close relationships with people whose lives are very different from the norm– people who, either from their very nature or from their current condition, have their “quality of life” questioned.  There are people and places who would allow or even encourage the snuffing out of these lives simply because they involve pain, or won’t be able to take care of themselves, or can’t live up to “normal” standards.  We already know that rates of Down’s in the US has fallen where statistically it should be more likely (given older motherhood)– I don’t think it’s a stretch to infer that has something to do with babies with Down’s being aborted.

And yet these three most likeable contestants all come from families where the “abnormal” was their normal.  And that’s why all three were complimented not only on their voices, which, with training, are essentially received or not received, but also on the honesty of their performances.  They’ve experienced, at a young age, life’s breadth, with includes difficult illnesses and disabilities and all the rest.

And all of this is a long-winded way of pointing out that without Jermain’s mom’s suffering, Katie’s grandmother’s slow deterioration, and Maddie’s brothers’ “abnormality” we don’t get the wonderful Jermains, Katies and Maddies whose compassion, honesty, and lack of self-absorption not only make for compelling television, but enrich our communities.  Jermain’s mother, Katie’s grandmother, and Maddie’s brothers have been good, strong influences on these people, and they have been loved:  that sounds like an excellent quality of life to me.

I don’t doubt that, while sinister influences are at work in some, many people who support abortion, euthanasia, and the rest of these “solutions,” do so out of a misguided compassion that thinks they’re keeping people from suffering.  But death isn’t an answer to suffering or difficulty;  it’s only an end to our interaction with those people.  There are places where these individuals, in pain, deteriorating, or with a perceived low quality of life can be excised from the picture– and those places are poorer for it.

It’s not compassion or love or self-sacrifice that drives “mercy” killings which are anything but.  And it won’t make us a more compassionate society.  What it will do is leave us with a future made up entirely of people who met some imaginary, ridiculous, and completely arbitrary idea of what constitutes a life worth living;  we will be a population of the most well-intentioned but least able to actually be compassionate executioners and survivors.  That’s a quality of life we can do without.  There’s a lot of talk about the value of diversity, but the diversity that’s truly dying out isn’t cultural or ethnic– it’s a diversity of experience which requires people to suborn their own interests for someone else.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to follow Idol from across the seas, but I can tell you I’ll be rooting for these three– they haven’t just got talent;  they’ve got heart.

Watch videos of Maddie Curtis, Jermain Sellers, and Katie Stevens at the American Idol Featured Auditions page.

1.  I need lists.  You know why?  Because otherwise I’ll plan a shopping trip, get to the store, and have no clue why I’m there.  Luckily this week I remembered this before I went to the store I’d planned to go to on Tuesday– nice because Moscow is a large city and to get good prices you have to travel.

2.  I need lists for things like Quick Takes because after posting last week, and mentioning how I’d saved up some, etc., I realised I hadn’t remembered more than one of the things I’d planned to mention.  Do I remember them now?  Er….

3.  I remember this one!   Anyone else gotten some funny suggestions from Facebook?  It’s been trying to tell me how to treat people I know… of course, not every FB friend is, in fact, a person…

Do you think the Pope would mind if I scribbled my affection on the side of St. Peter’s?  …  Really?  Darn.  Guess I’ll just have to keep going to Mass and praying to Jesus.

4.  I was thinking about my recent preponderance on food on this blog… it’s very strange, because I don’t actually eat tons.. I tend towards one actual meal and then fruit or bread or what have you.  I think it’s because I actually completely love preparing food for a group… especially one in which my very basic cooking skills look good by comparison.  Have to make some things a bit more obviously good for you… I love making veggie soups but for a 50 minute metro ride to a friend’s, not so much.

5.  I have gotten the Moscow Bargain Hunter seal of approval from my local manager and other teachers.  A teacher from Brooklyn but of Russian descent (and now Russian marriage, speaks fluently, etc.) recommended this place as similar to a TJ Maxx and thank goodness she was right– a friend and I went and we did very well.  We did so well, in fact, that most people have been double-checking that they’re not used… no, they’re just past season.  Score one for the bargain-ator;  this city is pricey.

6.  Speaking of other human beings… amazing what a concerted effort towards NOT being a hermit will do for one’s social life.  I don’t dislike other people- actually, I LOVE people.  I just have this natural proclivity for avoiding them like the plague for reasons unbeknownst even to me.  The food and people love are coming together, though- a group of us are getting together on Sundays.

7.  And a serious one… if you haven’t seen my reflections on that Ten Prayers book, do check them out (Sage Sayings: World Record Sinners;  Outdo Me, Lord; Upping the Ante;  listed in chronological order as well as order of increasing awesomeness).  I think the prayer about asking God to use one as an instrument… well, let’s just say it’s more evidence that the book is on target, because I think God has been using me as such the last couple weeks.  I sure hope so anyway!

alright… that’s it… gack 15 minutes to dress and get the heck out of dodge… bye!

-theRosyGardener

It gets a lot easier to remember when you become “that person” for someone else.  I could just tell that another teacher at my school was really really frustrated on Wednesday, and probably felt he’d been slighted in favor of me.  We all get asked to do placement tests- and honestly, I get asked to do plenty, and even have been in the five-minute break in a 2 1/4 hour class.  And most of the time I do them, because I don’t mind and want to be helpful.  But  Wednesday was a bit disasterous for me.  So this teacher walked in, learned that he could in fact have come earlier as he would have wanted to, saw me at the computer, and was asked to do a placement test by the local manager.

I could feel his upset radiating, and it felt like it was atleast partly in my direction.  And I think I probably would’ve been a bit pissed, too, when someone who had gotten there early and apparently could be gallivanting around the internet wasn’t being asked or had been given first refusal at the least.  And he also was upset that apparently he could have come at three, found everything unlocked, and had plenty of time to do all his photocopying, etc.

And these are completely justified reasons.  And I’ve been that same person whining about the bad drivers, the annoying coworkers, the grating personalities- and I’ve had good reasons.  What I haven’t always had is compassion for those other people.

If he hadn’t felt slighted and harried– two feelings he was more than entitled to– he might have thought of a few things.

One is that we have a new local manager, and I wonder if it doesn’t have something to do with the fact that the old one didn’t get there till 3:15, even with classes beginning at 3:45.  The new one’s been there at 3 every time I’ve been there early, my classroom’s nearly always unlocked, and that day, there was a student doing a written placement test before the oral one.  He simply hadn’t realised what a ‘regime change’ would mean.

As for my part– well, my Wednesday sucked.  I woke up with a nasty cold I hadn’t had the night before.  I put together all these Halloween materials on my computer, uploaded them online, went off to a seminar, then went to a central school location to print out the materials I’d put together and do some photocopying.

I got ONE page out of 6 for my teenaged advanced class to print, and it was the one I was the least certain I would use.  I had to re-download all sorts of other activities I’d found and put in one location because only one computer had firefox (which I needed for my online storage) and yet that computer stopped printing after that first fateful page.  The photocopier went spastic and wouldn’t copy.  And did I mention my nasty cold?

I didn’t have time to go to another location to try to print- so I figured I’d ask if I could use the computer at the satellite school I work at on Wednesdays.  I explained to the local manager, who was there before 3, which is when I got there, and she helped.  The computer was slow and annoying, it didn’t have firefox, and apparently on my school’s computers downloads from emails are banned, so the precautionary self-email I’d done didn’t work either.  I ended up scouring the internet for anything I could use to replace it.  It was a less than successful search.  I had a few minutes to photocopy for classes whose plans had effectively been savaged, except for the one class taking a test (my hand-drawn pumpkin did the trick for them).

The young kids taking a test were pure torture.  My teens got a pretty crappy lesson.  My adults luckily are a cheery group but the lesson was flat.  Basically, it was a miserable failure of a day as a teacher.

I know that probably sounds self-pitying, and since I still have this nasty cold it may well be.  But I think overall, I probably got quite a lot out of that awful day (and Thursday was pretty good, actually, so don’t think it’s all doom and gloom).  What did I learn?

Well, to logically know that those annoying people have their own problems is one thing.  To see how you can be that person for others, and actually have bigger problems than they do (it’s not that difficult to do a placement test)– it’s a different story.

I wish I could say I won’t kvetch about the slow driver or rude person, or whomever, in the future, but I probably will.  I hope, though, I remember in short order just how crappy it can be to be that person.

~theRosyGardener

1.  I did try the bacon-flavored chips, and they weren’t really my thing.  Not terrible, but definitely not on my top ten list.  I have, however, discovered a non-dairy potato chip besides bacon, crab and caviar– the green onion potato chip.  If onions and potatoes aren’t a match made in heaven I don’t know what is.

2.  I have actually been trying to get a photo that truly captures how purple the soup I’ve been making is.  The sad fact is, no photo can truly capture it because of lighting, etc., but it’s really purple.  My roommate was explaining to me about a hierarchy in the cabbage family from brussel sprouts to plain green cabbage and said red cabbage was a higher grade.  It just so happened that the store had a half-head available in red cabbage and not in green cabbage… so I bought that and didn’t even think about the possible ramifications.  I should be clear- purple soup is totally fine… it was adding bits of chicken in that afterwards turned purple that got a little weird… but it was still tasty.

3.  I know I shouldn’t get it, and luckily I’m practical or I would just go and buy it, but another teacher bought this incredible kitchen gadget that I want– one motor can power a whisk-mixer, a blender, and a food-processor sort of thing.  I think this is the one he got.  What is it with me and kitchen gadgets and office supplies?

4.  This happened a while ago but it was funny so I have to share.  Twice a week I work at this one school, and on the way there I always pass something that reads KURI-GRILL (transliterated).  I had been forgetting lunch (a bad idea- stomach growls in front of tweens is not so smart) so I thought I’d stop there.  It must be some cool random Indian place- “kuri” meaning “curry.”  For 190 rubles, I figured it was a decent price for something different, so I ordered one kuri-grill and some lavash.  What I got was this:

Yes, that’s a whole rotisserie chicken covered in lavash.  Once he handed it to me it all made sense…  but of course I didn’t have time to actually eat it then.  So I got to the school and stuffed a small chicken in my backpack!  It smelled so good I was worried it would give itself away.  My roommie explained to me that night- curry is transliterated as “kari” in Russian– “kuri” is just a shortened form of “kuritsa”–chicken.

The thing is, perhaps if I’d just thought about why there were huge numbers of chickens on rotisserie and no smell of curry, I might’ve figured that out, lol.

5.  It’s been an interesting experience being a teacher, especially with some very demanding students (and parents).  I usually take to things pretty quickly, but I have definitely had some challenges– and I think it’s probably good for the soul to not be instantly wonderful;  one more onion-layer of ego pulled away from the real stuff.

6.  This week I had one pretty crappy day and then the next day was actually quite nice (and will stay that way as long as the grandma I heard say, “Bozhe moi!” (“My God!”) when she saw I’d handed out candy to the kids post-test and for Halloween doesn’t complain– luckily the child did quickly respond- “Amerikanskaya traditsia”- “American tradition,” – so I’m hoping that will be fine).  Bribery seems like a good thing for teaching…

7.  Got another cold!  I seem to bounce between not really minding/noticing and feeling pretty miserable, but lucky for me the able-to-ignore stages are larger (the me=blech stages revolve around certain necessities and nasty coughing spells), and I have a pretty good attitude about it- being around other people is a lot of good.  I haven’t gotten sick repeatedly like this since I was a kid I think.  I’m thinking… taking the metro every day and working with kids every day and walking home in cold nasty spitting rain nearly every night must be the culprit.  I have, however, found the perfect medicines:  tea with honey, grandma’s egg drop-esque soup, random Russian medications, and….

I’ve also figured out the Russian word for flu- “grip” (pronounced “greep(b)”)…. It sounds like it, doesn’t it?

Well random assortment… and I think it’s time for a brief nap before planning for my lesson tonight.  Next week there’s a holiday and a few of my classes are cancelled… here’s hoping I don’t get too many sub classes and can just enjoy the time off.

I first heard of Father Stan Fortuna when my parents were looking for an alternative to rap for my brother, whose classmates had gotten heavily into the generally seedier mainstream rap. My brother actually went to a Fr. Stan concert and came home with a couple of CDs.  Naturally, without even thinking about it, I put them in my iTunes- hey, a musical priest was inherently awesome.

And then one day, I actually listened to them.

They were fantastic.  The beats are strong, the interesting lyrical interludes give it a lot of depth, and mostly the lyrics are powerful beyond belief.  Fr. Stan addresses doctrines, faith, virtue and the challenges of Christian living, hypocrisy, and even difficult moral issues.  And while a song may not seem like a place to treat them with depth, the lyrics are packed- they are like poems in their onion-layers.  Here is the chorus from one of my favorites, a song called “Unborn Victims of Violence”:

Thou shall not kill
But not on capital hill
Ya let us do it with the doctor
Or we do it with the pill
Mommies ain’t safe in the streets
But if a thug comes and beats
Mommy over the head
And leaves the baby for dead
Ya say it’s fine but it’s tragic
We can’t stop it with magic
It’s politically bleak
It’s cause we’re spiritually weak
Y’all try to cover up the scam
With illegitimate silence
Check it “I’m here to defend
Unborn victims of violence”

The amount of truth packed into those short lines is incredible.

But it’d be a mistake to pigeonhole Fr. Fortuna as a priest who’s ministry consists of Christianising elements of popular culture.  He lives in the South Bronx and works with poor and needy members of society there.  His production company, Francesco Productions, supports his work with the poor and has a mission of cultural transformation.  Fr. Stan has released 3 CDs of rap and popular music, but has also recorded traditional hymns.  Francesco Productions has even founded an international charitable group serving the underserved abroad.

Perhaps most important is Fr. Stan Fortuna’s dedication to core doctrines of the faith.  Rather than watering down the faith in an attempt to make it palatable, he’s instead focused on using modern means to communicate the timeless truth of our faith.  So those who encounter him are getting the full message, not Hansel and Gretl breadcrumb trails to lead them somewhere else, but a big meaty meal that shows them how God’s there for them.

Father Stan has spoken and performed at countless churches internationally and is a favorite speaker at youth and campus ministry events, including multiple World Youth Day appearances.

For more information the following websites may be helpful, and were consulted in the compilation of this post (all links open in new windows):

Francesco Productions Official Website

Last.fm’s Radio Station and Info Page on Fr. Stan Fortuna

Wikipedia Bio

Fr. Stan Fortuna, CFR, “Traditional Catholic Hymns”

Fr. Stan Fortuna “Faith and Family” 3-Day Mission in Toronto

I really highly recommend Fr. Stan’s music as powerful and faith-strengthening as well as challenging.

~theRosyGardener

I have to say, I really enjoy watching Texas Hold’em, which is a rare game where it’s definitely more about the betting– much more about the betting than the cards.  You don’t play the cards in Hold’em:  you play the people.  So I’ve watched and gotten all the catch phrases down- “Pocket deuces” and “he flopped trips!”  and calling Kings “cowboys” and such.  And in case you haven’t watched Celebrity Poker Showdown (the one you actually learn the most from) or the World Series of Poker, here’s a quick primer on how it goes.

There are some obligatory bets in Hold’em – a bigger one and a smaller one (half the bigger one)- called “blinds.”  Then those who haven’t put in the largest amount in have three options: “fold” and be out of the round, spending nothing;  ”call” and put in enough to match the big blind;  ”raise” by putting in more money.  The trick of the raise is that after that, everyone has to put in enough to match it or else fold.  And players can “re-raise.”

And that’s exactly what I think has been happening with me, Ten Prayers, and God.

Today I dawdled and delayed a bit by reading more in Orthodoxy (GKC) and Ten Prayers (DeStefano) before realising that, yes, I did actually have to shower and get dressed (I was in fact in my pajamas quite late- I like them and had nowhere to go yet) and go to Mass.  I hit chapter 8 today, well started it- at 1:40 I finally came to my senses (English Mass is at 3- well there’s one at 9 but I’d have to leave at about 8:10 to get there and that’s not going to happen right now).

I had to pull myself out of Ten Prayers in Chapter 8:  ”Sometimes Being Smart Just Isn’t Enough; God, Give Me Wisdom.”  DeStefano was just telling me about asking God to help with decisions.  This is an area in which I can use a lot of encouragement.

I think it comes down to being afraid of what God will say.  What if he wants me to be a “holy beggar” or something?  What if he wants me to do something completely different from what I thought?  What if he tells me and I don’t know how to listen?  Actually, the last one is a biggie for me, because the thing I miss most from my childhood is the closeness I felt with him, where I was sure I heard his voice.  I don’t regret growing up, but I do regret growing foolish and unable to hear him.  How will I know what he wants?  And will I be able to give it?  I know logically and through faith God won’t give more than I can handle, but that hasn’t stopped the fear.  I guess that’s why any time he has a big announcement, it starts with, “Don’t be afraid.”  In one sense, I trust God quite a lot– because of my closeness as a child, I have been blessed with certainty of his existence.  In the senses that matter more in everyday life… I’m a real skeptic.

But I’ve been smart enough, I think, to be skeptical about my own plans as well.  I just don’t know that they’re what he wants, so I don’t have complete peace with them.  So I figured I ought to pray that prayer.  I almost “dashed it off” quickly as I read and then hopped in the shower.  I figured I’d already gone in on the whole charitable giving thing, and that if I really missed that closeness, prayer was the only way to get it back.  So I said it.

And God saw my bet, and re-raised me.

As I mentioned in a Quick Take a couple weeks back, I was asked to lector at Mass the second Sunday I attended, after which I also said, I’ll be here til July, so you’ll see me around.  Well, every Sunday I’ve been since then I’ve been asked to lector.  Not only have I been asked to lector, but I’ve been given the biggest portion- first reading plus the psalm response.  Today I only got there with about 5-8 minutes to spare, and figured they’d have already gotten someone.  But I guess they were hoping I’d show because I sat down and immediately was handed the lectionary.  The fellow who is basically the acolyte and does things like assign readings and get Communion counts told me they love it when I read.  I’m one of the few English speakers there from a country where it’s the sole dominant language so it’s easier for me to be expressive I think, plus I figured if I’m reading it I should read it with expression.  As long as no one else is getting shafted, I’m happy to help, even though a bit nervous when I step up there.

Given that I’m eight hours ahead of EST, it’s entirely possible that some folks haven’t gone to Mass or service if you’re in a Protestant church that follows the calendar of readings, so here’s a little liturgical “spoiler alert.”

I looked down at the book, and I almost had tears running down my cheeks– my eyes were suffused with them, and are again now even thinking about it.  Here is the first reading:

I prayed, and prudence was given me,

I pleaded, and the spirit of wisdom came to me.

I preferred her to scepter and throne,

and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her,

nor did I liken any precious gem to her;

because all gold, in view of her, is a little sand,

and before her, silver is to be accounted mire.

Beyond health and comeliness I loved her,

and I chose to have her rather than the light,

because the splendor of her never yields to sleep.

Yet all good things together came to me in her company,

and countless riches at her hands.

– Wisdom (!) 7:7-11

Okay, okay, I get it.  That’s a dose of wisdom, a “trust me” and an implied “be not afraid” all in one, right when I asked for wisdom.  I don’t get amazed by “coincidences” — I am constantly amazed by how detailed God is, and how, if you’re looking, he’s really hitting you over the head (lovingly, of course) all the time– he just knows everything so well that he stands behind you encouraging you, and is the ground beneath you so you have a good path, and is the star before you to follow, and when you finally do listen, he’s already in the place he’s been leading you to, ready to welcome you in.  It’s mind blowing, because it’s so incredible- and so incredibly loving.

I’ve been shuffling my way along on this wisdom thing for a long time.  I think God even helped the priest out with the homily today just for me, the one about the rich man who doesn’t want to give up all his stuff.  He said something like, ‘It’s not enough to stay out of trouble;  you have to go beyond that.’  Giving God something to outdo, and now asking him for wisdom– and it seems like that line is just for me.

You know what I didn’t mention about betting in poker?  At any point in the game, any player who’s still got his hand can go “all in” — and anyone who wants to remain in the game has to go all in, too.  I think the reason I was folding so many hands was because I’ve been afraid of going all in.  I hope that the prayers I’ve been praying, “God, outdo me in generosity,” “God, give me courage,” “God, give me wisdom,” and “Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” will prepare me to go all in.

I sure hope so– because I’m finally starting to want it again.

-theRosyGardener

Updated only to add categories and correct a typo in which I accidentally claimed I’d been asked to lecture at church– thankfully for both my pride and the very lives of anyone potentially subjected to a lecture by me, I was asked to lector.  And all my family will commence laughing now….

More than thinking about them, it’s got me thinking about how I live them.  I’ve always been sensible and I’ve always been big-hearted, I think.  And in many instances, these two things have been at odds.  Sometimes, the heart wins, and sometimes, the head does.  Of course, sense and compassion aren’t inherently contradictory– it’s just that I often find myself pulled between them.

The heart winning has had its problems– I can tell you it does not mean one jot in terms of holiness in and of itself.  But that would take another whole post.  The head winning has saved my bacon a number of times, but there has been one area where it has always left me heartsick.

The prayer from that book is this:  God, outdo me in generosity.

I like to think of myself as a generous person.  I am I think rather generous with time and talents.  But giving money I’m not usually so generous.  And it bugs me.  One is purely selfish, not giving at church or giving little.  If a disaster happens, or I read about some charity needing help, I’m there– but when it’s personal, I am always in two minds- or rather I’m stuck between head and heart in a cycle of charitable heartburn.

Basically, I listened to all the arguments about giving to strangers on the street.

And I never gave anything to strangers on the street.

And I always regretted it.

But this prayer got me thinking.  God will always answer it, but I didn’t want to ask– because there was nothing to outdo, atleast monetarily.  I let money concerns for myself, which could easily budget in a few rubles for other people, outweigh the heart that walks past a beggar and cries a little.

I had grand ideas– okay, so maybe beggars are drunkards, and if you give them money they’ll buy booze.  Well, one day, thought I as a little girl, I’ll go around with McDonald’s money so I know it’ll be for food.  And the adult never has.  One day, I’ll give them rides to homeless shelters or work with the beggars.  And the adult never has.  Now, I’m still early 20s, so I’m not counting myself out, but I miss the little girl my parents were terrified would be walked all over trying to be friends with everyone– the little girl who said “Hi!” to every person she passed in the mall.

And here in Moscow, it’s worse.  Yes, there are drinking problems, of course.  But the beggars are largely old women and disabled people, some on the metro, some old women in the streets prostrating and crossing themselves.  And for the past few weeks I’ve walked right by them into the church I attend, where I put a few rubles in the collection basket and felt like a hypocrite.

And that feeling, at the same time as reading this book, and the old worries about it percolating around my brain, may have been the greatest gift I’ve gotten this year.

God, outdo me in generosity.

I figured, if I wanted to really be able to say that prayer honestly, I needed to do something.  I don’t make tons as a teacher, and I haven’t mastered budgeting (although I’ve done a good job of not spending everything).  My main issue at this point is how hard it is to get change, actually.  I know that I really cannot afford to give lots of money.  But I decided I had to do something.

I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of scary.  I always seem to be picked out by the more forceful beggars- if five people are walking down a street, I’m the one who is actually approached and asked.  Throw in that I don’t really know the functional language of begging, and it’s pretty jarring.  And old man chastised me on my street a week before this decision for not giving him money, not realising I was actually pretty startled (he crossed the street to ask me).  I don’t know why I get singled out, but I think it was probably a grace I didn’t know I was getting.

I didn’t give that old man any money, just like I didn’t give the crippled girl any money, or the man with no legs who rides on my metro line on a plank with four wheels any money, or the few beggars outside church shortly before my Mass starts.

I thought Moscow would be a tough town to be a beggar in.  And I guess I was wrong- because all of a sudden, where I hadn’t seen anyone giving money, I started seeing people in the metro, which seems so… distant- there is no cameraderie in the kind you sometimes get on the T in Boston really– I started seeing them pull out money, often bills (as opposed to coins which are only up to 5 rubles).

And I did too for the crippled girl, that second time I saw her, with my bag from freakin’ Ikea.

It wasn’t an overall change, but it was something.  I still didn’t give anything to the old lady crossing herself I passed searching for a metro.  I was unsure how to handle all people begging underground, too.

And then on Sunday it was enough.  I couldn’t walk into God’s house and leave his children outside without atleast doing something- and I couldn’t pray that prayer, either, even though I wanted to.  When I walked in, there was a begging bag sitting there, and a crippled man standing. I wasn’t sure what was his, so I put some coins into both.  On the way out, there were two old women begging.  I gave each of them 10 rubles, not much but there being so many beggars I figured it made the most sense– I can’t go past them anymore.

One of them called for God to bless me.  The other told me she had a bad leg and needed lots of money.  I certainly felt better, even with feeling bad about not giving more– and better yet, I didn’t feel resentful of the fact that the second had peeked into my wallet as I got out the bill and seen I had more cash on me.

I gave away money to 2 or 3 more people this week.  I haven’t get given to my ‘local’ beggars who are usually at my metro stop, because I think I can’t afford to do it every time I see them so I will space it out.  It will also depend of course on what bills I have on me- I can’t afford to give away the bigger bills, and if people are stacked up in a row I can’t do that for everyone.

Essentially, I’m still a long ways from the widow’s mite– but I’ve finally given God something to outdo.

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Hmmm.. that turned out longer and more rambling than anticipated.. I think I needed to do it.  Too bad that now I really need to go to bed!  Thanks, any who may be reading.

-Rosy