Category: Life

Death and Wisdom

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

In a little over a month three people in my parish have passed away. One was a venerable Archdeacon, a good man full of years. He had served His Lord and the Church for decades and passed peacefully in his sleep. The other two were young, a high school boy full of promise tragically taken in a car accident, and a man in his early twenties who reposed in the Lord after a brave battle with illness.

Three deaths in three different ways. Death is ingenious like that, it has the ability to come in as many ways as there are people to visit and no one, regardless of their age or station, is immune. We expect, in the normal course of life, for those along in years to die but even the young can, and do, leave this life. We have seen it, first hand, as December has given way to the new year.

There are no answers in all of this, at least not in the short term. We know, in each case, the cause of death but the greater questions of “Why?” will take time to ponder. It always does. Death challenges pious platitudes and easy answers because death has a profound depth to it, a great mystery in the best sense of that word, and easy answers seem to fall apart in the face of it.

Death is also, though, a forge of wisdom with the power to clarify the true value of things and burn through everything superficial. The knowledge that this time on earth is limited can be a source of frivolity where all of our efforts are focused on extracting fleeting glimpses of whatever we consider the good life in a mad dash before the deadline. It can also be a source of paralysis and despair where the idea of the inevitable end clouds every part of every point along the way. Or it can call us to something higher, to search for, and practice, the good, the true, the things that transcend the moment, and even life itself. If that is the course we choose, then, perhaps, even death, as mysterious and powerful and challenging as it is, has something to offer us in this life.

 

Time and the Dead….

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ 1 Comment

In this past month we’ve had two sad deaths in our parish and the grieving has had me ponder what time must be like for those who are in the nearer presence of Christ.

First, though, a note. I used the title “Time and the Dead” for this post because it was kind of catchy, almost like a name for a rock band, but the Orthodox understanding of death is that the body dies, something we consider to be a temporary condition because we believe that the body will also, at some future time, be resurrected, and the soul continues on, for the faithful, in the presence of God. So we use the term “dead” not so much as the idea of being completely extinguished as an entity but rather as a temporary separation of the body and the soul awaiting the resurrection and the transformation of all of who we are to our final state.

What led me to ponder the sense of time for those who have passed on were quotes and thoughts that came from the events of this month and around Facebook at this time of year about those who have passed on spending Christmas in heaven. I understand the sentiment, when my father and brother died I thought of that as well, how they would be spending events like Christmas and Pascha in the presence of Christ. There’s a certain peace that comes with knowing that the joy that we can experience in these feasts is a foretaste of the joy of being in God’s nearer presence.

Still, those sentiments, as good as they are, come from the reality that we are creatures of time. Yes, eternity is in our hearts, but we live in time and so we see things that way. Yet, I wonder if those who are in the presence of Christ also see things that way? I’m inclined to believe they don’t, but what I am writing is speculation out loud and the reader should take it as that. The truth is that we’re never given precisely detailed descriptions of what life beyond this life entails and so our thoughts and hearts can travel to that existence but it would be hard to claim extensive knowledge. If only Lazarus had written a book!

From the stories of the Transfiguration of Christ we know that those who are departed to be with God have some sense of what is happening here. Moses and Elijah were speaking with Jesus, in one reading of that story, about what Jesus was to accomplish so there seems to be some kind of consciousness “over there” , as it were, of life “back here”. Over the centuries, as well, we, as Orthodox Christians have experienced the reality of the intercessions, not mediations, of the Saints, answers in our own lives of our requests for those who have gone to be with Christ to pray for us. The writer of Hebrews also uses the image of a stadium where people are in the stands are watching, as a cloud of witnesses, those of us who are currently living the Christian life. So, somehow, in a holy and blessed way, those who have departed this life have a kind of consciousness about what is happening here and, in certain cases, individual lives of the faithful.

In pondering that, though, I speculate that those who are with Christ, even as they can, as God allows, be witness to us as we live out lives in time are probably not aware of time as we are. God has no time in the sense that we measure  it as one moment processing on to another. I don’t think there are clocks in heaven. Perhaps in hell although I can’t say that for sure, but probably not in heaven. To God, if I understand this correctly, all of what we call time is present. There is no past as we understand it with God, or for that matter the future. Now that doesn’t mean that God isn’t aware that we live in time or that God is incapable of entering human time, but rather that God isn’t bound by time and God’s vision of existence and reality isn’t necessarily framed by what we call time. I remember in my seminary days of one professor describing God as “timeful” that is everything in existence is always present to God.

So my presumption, and presumption it is, is that those who have departed to be with God in a state of blessedness also share in that timefulness. Their consciousness, I believe, is not limited by time as we understand it. So, for example, when the time comes for us to repose from this life those who know and love us who proceeded us won’t be saying “It’s been thirty years, glad you finally made it” because there the idea of anything like “years” is something that simply doesn’t exist. I think, by the way, that this is one reason those who have departed this life can be very effective intercessors for us, because they can pray for us with an understanding of existence not limited by our moment to moment sense of time and events. They can see a larger picture, a vision of things not trapped by our understandings of time and the meaning of things within that context, but rather with a “God’s eye view” of the entire panorama of existence where all events are present from the creation of everything that exists to its fulfilment in God at the end of time as we understand it.

Such heady things to be pondering in the wee, small, hours of a Sunday in December. And if these are only glimpses, what must the fullness of what God would have for us in His presence be like?

For Your Consideration…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

If you are looking for a charity to support or an almsgiving opportunity as you prepare for Christmas please consider Jakob. This young man is a member of the parish I serve and his cause is the real deal. His struggle with illness defines courage and whatever you could do to help would be appreciated. Thank you.

6432312_1445570190.5679

https://www.gofundme.com/sh6z66ad

 

 

Pray for Charlie…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

Pray, first, because we are more alike than different. Given the money, fame, and access, which one of can say with certainty that we could have kept the powers of sin, struggle, and addiction away from our lives? Even without them we often fall so it is perhaps a grace that we don’t have more and thereby increase our risk.

Pray, again, because more than likely that wealth and access will be quickly gone and the fame will grow very shallow. There will be lawsuits by those who were deceived and damaged. There will be opportunities lost and expenses incurred. When the good times stop the good time friends may disappear, replaced by a kind of loneliness softened only by the discovery of those who were true and good all the time.

Pray, some more, because these wonderful drugs that keep people alive also rule the lives of those who take them. Life is measured by the dates and times and doses and everything must be done with great precision and little spontaneity Far away from the lights and the public persona there will always be a Charlie who knows that his life hangs by a pharmaceutical thread and even the lowest of viral loads doesn’t mean that this infection is gone, just hidden somewhere in a quiet spot where the current tests still can’t reach. This will be his life.

Pray, as well, because the potential of his life is still enormous. Sanity, health, and wholeness are often found through difficult circumstances and as long as there is life there is always hope. Truly, as St. Augustine is reputed to have said “There is no Saint without a past or a sinner without a future.”  God is not done with any one of us and neither is he done with Mr. Sheen.

Pray, finally, for ourselves. Seeing someone struggle and bear the consequences of that struggle should never elicit any thought or emotion in us save for humility in knowing that we, too, are capable of our own kinds of struggles, sins, and darkness. Yes, perhaps this was not our particular sin but we each have our own and in their own way they are deadly to us as well.

If he were here, I guess I would say only this to Charlie,  “God loves you more than you can possible imagine and His grace is greater than any darkness you or I may wrestle with in our lives. There is better for you if you want it and God’s door is always open.”

I Live in a World of Rage…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

born of selfishness and entitlement unfulfilled. All around me the world I live in shouts “What you feel is what is real and what you feel you need is what the rest of the world is obligated to provide.” When this is not true, which is more often the case than not, I am told that raging against whatever is outside of me that has failed my feelings is my right, my obligation even, until the ever-changing feelings and needs inside of me are satiated.

I reject this even as I understand that in doing so it can be like a fish rejecting water. This is the ocean I swim in, the river that is my home, and the pond where I was born, and yet I know this, all around me, is not the real world even as it surrounds me everywhere. So I resist as I can, asking God for peace, for insight, and a sense of eternity in the world of time. My own world is too small and it is constantly unsettled and angry because of its smallness and in moments when I am distant from the Truth I can feel the anger of my tiny world’s unfulfilled entitlement swelling inside until I am ready to burst.

I must die, daily even, to this small world and its rage. Daily I must recall its illusions, its shadows, and its emptiness. Instead of the thousand shouting voices all around me telling me  to burn and hate and consume and make war I must listen to the one voice that matters, the still, small, voice that comes after the storm and earthquakes and fire have passed. That is the voice of God. The rest is madness.

 

 

Above All There is Christ…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

This life, this Christian way, is not a path for cowards. Our Lord was not joking when he told his followers they would have to, if they wished to be with him, “Take up their cross…” and the longer you travel along this Beautiful Path the more you will see of just that.

Still, although there are often temptations to step back from the challenges, go with the flow, and somehow find a way to walk without always having to face into the wind there is, above all, Christ.

There is a deep and profound beauty in Jesus, a vibrant and lively truth, and a sense of eternity embodied in Him that endures through time. When we draw close to Him there is a deep blessedness and even when we wander away there is still a light and hope  that can draw us through the darkness.

In this world, our Lord says, we will have many troubles but his voice also adds this calm assurance “Do not fear for I have overcome the world…”. Banged up and bruised, crawling through the night if that’s the best we can do, we remain his and he is ours and those who truly understand this can never go back.

I Sometimes Envy the Dead…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ 4 Comments

in a certain kind of way. Yet, before you get worried or call 911 or think I’m off my rocker I need to explain what I mean because in a Christian context that statement is remarkably different from how it may be expressed in the world.

As I get older I have the advantage and disadvantage of having more experience, of having seen more of life than I did when I was in my youth and physical prime. There’s a good to that because one can learn much and gain wisdom if their eyes and ears and heart is open through the years to take in and learn the lessons of life. I sometimes tell people that I wish I had everything I know about the world now and my 18-year-old body. Alas, my whole self has had to travel through time to get to this point and while parts of my body are already beginning their slow decline,  I feel a sense of depth, wholeness, and understanding flourishing within of the kind that only comes with age.

The disadvantage that comes with age is that experience is also the experience of years of struggle and pain. The longer one lives the more one sees of war, poverty, brokenness, all the pathologies birthed in human sin. Such things stack up over the years and they can be wearying to the soul. Within myself I am continually reminded of enduring temptations and challenges and without I see a world simultaneously full of great beauty and great pain. It can be overwhelming.

And because of that as I get older I am growing less wary of death. Yes, I would still like to live because there is much that is worth keeping alive even in a fallen world. There are places to go, things to see, people to meet, and above all there is still, despite our best efforts to extinguish it, love and hope everywhere if people would only look up from their phones to see it. This world is still a place of God’s grace and an arena where we can know and live in it.

Still I see the gift that is death, at least if you see it from the Orthodox perspective. While death is an expression, the ultimate expression, of our brokenness and alienation, it has within it it, because of Christ, the seed of eternal life. It would not be good, I think, to live perpetually in a broken world. It would be wearying and deadly to us to experience over and over again the countless challenges and struggles of this world as it is. There is a kind of mercy in death, a mercy God provides so that we can rest and be taken from this world to be with Him until such time as God returns this world to what it was meant to be. In that sense I sometimes envy those who have gone to be with Christ. Their course is finished. Their tasks are completed. The pains of this present world have no power over them. They rest, and there are days when that rest in Christ can be quite appealing.

Still, my turn, for sure, will also come. I don’t plan to either hurry it along or needlessly attempt to delay its arrival. When it comes it comes and I hope that its presence will find me in faith and doing good things until the very last. Christ’s transforming death is also, for me, Christ’s transforming of life. My prayer is that because death has been transformed I can be transformed even now in anticipation and hope of that day when I, too, will rest in hope.

22 If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! 23 I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; 24 but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. 25 Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, 26 so that through my being with you again your boasting in Christ Jesus will abound on account of me. Philippians 1

I Come to Church Early…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

on Sunday mornings so I have the place all to myself at least for a few minutes. I know, the point is that we gather in community but before the work of the Liturgy I have time to do little tasks, light candles, fire up the censer, warm some water, the little details that will make everything flow in the hours ahead. Such things are a kind of offering for me, tidying up the place is a kind of worship because of Who we expect to be with us.

I find a kind of shelter, as well, in those quiet moments of simple tasks. My world can be busy, electric, digital, and full of people. I crave the silence of the early morning church, the time to take deep breaths and try to distance my heart from the world outside. I’m not trying to hide. I’ll go back into that world soon enough. Still, a moment or two of peace in a holy place is a enduring kind of sustenance.

Perhaps visitors who come to my church will see the colors, vestments, and beautiful things and think only about the practicality of it all. Couldn’t you have done with less? Don’t you know that there are poor people out there who could have benefitted from what you paid for that chalice? All of that is true in its own way and a very real part of our lives is dedicated to making sure that those enduring human needs are being met in the name of Christ.

Yet, I need beauty and holiness as well, the idea, the reality that there are places in the world where the world itself stops for a while and heaven seems close. I know God is everywhere but at the same time I cherish being in a place where He is the only reason for its existence, a place where God is deliberately and lovingly invited to be with us and all the angels and Saints are welcome as well. Such places are growing rarer in this world, and, simple or elaborate, each one is a refuge from time and space, a place where the weary can find some rest and where in the quiet moments before Liturgy, alone in a room full of candles, icons, and the smell of incense, I become truly alive.

Alaska…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

has been on my mind since my return from there in the earlier part of this month. The people, the places, everything I saw and learned has been, and is, being processed back in my busy world of city lights and noise.

Alaska is wild and immense, a cluster of towns and many more very small villages and wide spots in the road surrounded by vast, barely, or entirely untamed, places. Two states of Texas would easily fit inside Alaska and the people there have mostly dispensed with the idea of roads from place to place in favor of airplanes and ships to cover the distances. There is civilization, for sure, but all of it always seems to be on the edge of something that hints of the days before modern humans brought their machines.

It is certainly, at least legally as legalities go these days, part of the United States. I wonder if the people who had been living there for thousands of years were puzzled, perhaps even infuriated, by the idea that two countries much less timeless than their nations could sell and trade that which was not theirs to begin with. Sill the native culture is resilient and distant laws created by people without an understanding are usually quietly endured or ignored whenever possible. The rules of living in this land seem to make certain things so regardless of foreign machinations.

And those rules, those rules of nature and the endless motion of the seasons, ensure that those who would seek to thrive in this Alaska need to learn to adapt. The foods that are eaten, the kinds of shelter that can be built, the ways of moving across the land, all of them are ultimately decided by nature’s larger wisdom and direction. You may have an airplane, but when the fog comes in off the ocean and nothing can be seen, that plane must stay where it is and whatever you were hoping it would bring will have to wait as well. There is much to eat but you have to know what it is, where it is, and how to harvest and keep it as Alaska itself determines the menu unless you wish to pay the significant costs of an imported diet. Seasons are larger than days, the weather larger than planners, and the people have a directness with the wisdom that comes from living in a place where safety nets may be few and far between.

There is a generosity in the people as well, a kindness of heart to strangers as long as they are willing to listen, learn, and not exploit or condescend. Alaskans, especially the natives, are not stupid or unsophisticated. They have lived in this very different place since, in some cases, the beginning of time as we understand it and know the rules, the actualities, the way things really are. If you are a guest and wish to share in this, the doors, the dinner tables, and hearts will always be open. If you come with theories, lab results, or a sense you know better, you will be, like distant laws, either quietly endured or ignored.

As there is a beauty to the people there is also beauty to the land. Even the most, as we would describe them, barren spaces have a kind of awesomeness to them. There are places, here, where people have still not been, places where time stands still, and nature presents on a scale that is stunning to those whose whole lives have been lived in tiny boxes in big cities. In certain places human beings are potentially still part of the food chain and this wildness can go on for what seems like forever.

It would behoove a person, I suppose, to visit Alaska at least once in their lives. Still, if you go take the place as it is and leave it exactly as you found it. Spiritually, physically, geographically, and culturally, the whole place will always be thousands of miles from where you live and trying to mold it into your image will be as futile as trying to stop the rain from falling. Enjoy, visualize, bask, and then take all of that, and nothing else from the place because that is enough.

 

 

 

I Would be Hard Pressed…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ 2 Comments

I suppose, to be an atheist. I think I would find it a very difficult way of life.

The hardest part of it, for me, would be this. If I were to truly be an atheist it would behoove me to understand that everything I see around me and that which I sense within,  the things like love, beauty, truth, hope, faith, and more, have no connection to anything transcendent or trans rational either in the universe or myself but are simply illusions created in the wiring of my brain, biochemical reactions that billions of years of random mutations have given me for the sole cause of the continued reproduction of my species. Even the fact that I was aware of such things would be no more than a series of evolved electrical impulses.

That would seem, to me, to be an empty kind of life. Be born, do what’s needed to sustain and pass on my genetic material, and then return to nothingness. Just the realization that this is all there is and that nothing of the spirit, the arts, the beauty, the love, of the world is anything more than a highly evolved survival mechanism would seem to empty any sense of “life” from existence.

I presume, of course, that an atheist would beg to differ but I would be interested in discovering on what grounds? Hope, I suppose would be one answer, hope that  the random roll of the dice is still happening and that in some future moment the answers will come, the why of all of those things that seem to make us most human being revealed in a way that requires nothing or no one beyond ourselves. Still, that hope sounds a lot like faith, perhaps even religion.