It’s a fair question, I think, to ask “What have we not done that Sodom and Gomorrah were guilty of and with a vigor and pervasiveness that those two towns on the edge of the Dead Sea couldn’t have imagined?”

And why are we still here?

I’ve pondered that for my culture and for myself and the answer seems to point to something deep and profound beyond words. It starts with the understanding that if God were a God of justice alone my society, myself included, would for the sake of justice have been destroyed long ago. The evidence is stark and compelling. Immorality? Check. Injustice? Check. Callousness of soul? Check. Idolatry? Check. Human sacrifice? Check. Name any sin of biblical proportion and we have done it and more than any Philistine or Amorite or Amalekite could ever have imagined. And in one way or another I have participated in it all.

So why are we, why am I, still here?

Why have we not gone the way of those long ago peoples whose crimes were less than ours and who did not have the benefit of the knowledge of holy things?

I suppose there’s an argument for the fact that it simply hasn’t been our time yet. After all there is no guarantee that any culture or country is a permanent thing. It is possible that a thousand years from now whoever is on the face of the Earth will see us in the same way as we look at Romans or Hittites. We could be destined to be merely a curiosity in the larger scope of things or worse yet an example of a social order gone dark at the apex of its power. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Yet I also believe there is something more in play, something more about God that explains why despite my, and my culture’s pervasive sins, we remain. Simply put, God is also a God of mercy of a depth and kind that defies our notions of fairness and justice and is capable of swallowing not simply the sins of one person or another but that of a whole society, even the whole universe, in its abyss.

Every provocation of defiant humanity, every insult flung to the skies, every instance when humans alone or in total have spit at the heavens and even that moment when in our insane rage we sought to kill God Himself, all in an instant can be absorbed and annihilated in the unending sea of mercy that is in the character of God.

I have no capability to explain this. Every adjective crumbles in its presence. Somewhere in the character of God there is the hope that even as we bear in ourselves, and in our cultures, the pain and death of our deeds there will be a moment when we come to our senses, realize the reality of our situation, and cry out for help. And when we do mercy will be there.

The texts and the tradition tell me that one day it will end, that the justice of God also must come into the equation in a way that only God himself can comprehend and with a truth to it that can only be from the one in whom there are no shadows. Outside of my own last breath I do not know when that moment will be. But until then there is time and opportunity and the means to seize mercy, and while that time remains hope does as well.

The vote wasn’t even close as the Massachusetts Legislature decided in overwhelming fashion to deny its citizens the right to vote on the issue of homosexual marriage, an issue forced into play by the decision of a simple majority of its Supreme Court. In effect four people, I believe, decided for all that the historic rules of marriage and family need not apply anymore and no one has the right or authority to question their wisdom.

Much could be written about judges ruling as autocrats and legislators without the courage to stand in their way. The idea that a group of judges has the right to demand a legislature make laws in conformity to their wishes is deeply repulsive to the American understanding of government. We are slowly being ruled by juntas of people in robes who dismiss the rest of us great unwashed with words and ideas that make sense only in the air tight realms of power. The cost of this is already high and one day may be unbearable. It may well be the Massachusetts Supreme Court has already fired the first shot in the next American Civil War. God forbid.

But a larger issue is emerging.

Rev. Jerry Falwell was roundly critiqued for declaring the events of 9/11 as a kind of judgement from God. But in his thoughts there was a grain of truth. It’s risky to say with prophetic certainty that God is acting in these times with a specific intent to judge. The great prophets of old most often experienced a direct and profound call from God and proved this call by the fulfilment of their words in the events of history to bolster their claims. I don’t have this and I know of no one else who does.

But this is true. There is a kind of judgement from God that comes not as some specific action of God directly involving Himself in human affairs but in the simple allowance of the consequences of human actions upon those who take them. Over and over again the texts of the Scripture define what is good and right and holy and what can happen when boundaries are crossed. Whether God directly acts or not humans pushing and crossing over those lines take risks to themselves which they must account for if they choose to ignore the holy in favor of the profane.

Could it be possible the sad state of our culture, its diseases and dilemmas, it fractures and fissures, its darknesses and struggles is directly related to the simple consequences of our own selfishness, our own choosing to ignore the wisdom of history, the elevation of our pleasure above common sense and the assertion of our will in the face of the Divine? Perhaps. Will God set fire to Boston for the defiance of its authorities and their complete irreverence? Probably not. But every time humans as individuals or as societies assert themselves against that which is holy they become coarse, ill, pathological, and in time crush themselves under the weight of their own acts.

Perhaps this is happening even now and every headline we read, the pain we’re feeling, the perplexity with which we see the world, the small nagging part inside of us that says something is deeply wrong, all of it speaks to the weight of our own sins beginning to swallow us and the truth that the mill of God grinds slow but exceedingly fine.

A link to a story on Fox about the imbalance in genders in Asia caused by abortion and gender selection via infanticide. We humans are often so arrogant and stupid at the same time and we continue to pay a high price for it all.

I admit there are moments when I’m very tired when I drive down the river road to LaCrosse. It’s in those moments when I come to grips with how difficult it can be to help a small church reach its potential, how idealism alone doesn’t always make it, and that sometimes its just plain work.

In Seminary they often told us that it was actually easier to start a church from scratch then to help a small and struggling parish to the next level. It’s true. Small parishes have a hard time in the world and St. Elias has struggled from the start. Begun as a good work it has spent the larger part of the last century just trying to get some traction and in the process lost a generation because it was caught in the bind of being too small to afford a Priest yet without one there was no constant presence to keep people and things going. The “action” moved north to St. Paul and other places and when they restarted things in the 1970’s they literally had to knock the birds nests out of the building.

In those days there was no diocesan support, no strategic planning, and little sense of mission as the development of strategies and policies to implement church growth. It was all about just finding a group of people and a Priest willing to go, yet without a plan its a recipe for struggle and failure. I admire the core of people in LaCrosse who have held on for decades in a situation that lesser folks would have simply abandoned.

And these past few months have been especially good. The people who remained at St. Elias have always been the “keepers”, the core that matters, and those who’ve proven their virtue of love and service in the hard times. But now there seems to be, by the grace of God, a renewed sense among some of the value of what we have at St. Elias and what God can do. People are stepping up in a new way and many are working like horses on behalf of our Parish. Whatever else can be said about St. Elias it is not a church of slackers. And all of this means there is hope.

For those of you who read this blog I simply ask your prayers. St. Elias is small but full of good people and in a place where there is a need for an Orthodox witness. Pray that all of us will be given God’s strength so that we can “run and not be weary, and walk and not faint.” Pray that God will send His angels to watch over us so the Enemy of our souls will not have his way in and among us. Pray that in reponse to all the steps of faith, large and small, that our Parish has taken God would send people to us, people who need our good Faith, people who will make this little Parish become everything it was meant to be.

On a personal level I can tell you this. I have served in parishes that were larger and had more but never one of which I was prouder in the best sense of the word. The people of St. Elias are at least trying, and I pray that their work is rewarded. And every time I get tired I remember them and the drive doesn’t seem so hard, the load rests easier on my shoulders, and the car flies down the road even when I’m doing the speed limit.

A link to a recent study on Atheists / Agnostics and Christians in the US. If you do not read the Barna Report it would be good to start.

I’ve been away from blogging for a few days because a project needed my attention.

In a small Parish like St. Elias every penny counts and there is always a need to find ways to do business that exploit technology and efficiency. In fact, one of the gifts of a small Parish can be the kind of “edginess” required to make things happen that may not be possible in a large Parish with less nimble structures and systems.

In our specific case the issue is the development of a Parish newsletter as a way to connect people from some distances and share information. The normal process is to create a mini-newspaper with columns and calendars and send them to as many people as possible, even people who haven’t asked for them, in order to comply with the requirements of the Post Office regrading bulk mail. (To qualify for a bulk mail permit there must be a minimum number of mailed items).

I’ve been pondering this for several months and a few days ago it occurred to me that it’s possible to adapt a blogger.com site for use as an “e-newsletter” that is easy to produce, easy to update, inexpensive, self storing, and widely available. I’ve made a rough copy of such an item here. I presume I’m not the first person to contemplate this but its potential for small parishes and missions could be significant.

I’m still trying to work out how I could adapt the site to hold a calendar of events but I’ll figure it out. Regardless if you drop by and have an idea or comment I would appreciate it.

Through the kindness of parishioners I had the chance to attend a baseball game following Vespers on Saturday night.

Although I never played it much as a kid (I grew up in a football town) over the years I’ve come to truly enjoy baseball games. My wife and I basically bought our satellite dish just to get the Twins games in on Fox Sports North, and the XM Radio in my car is often set right to channel 175, the one with all the Major League scores. If somehow we won the lottery the one vacation we would take is the package where you can travel for a month and see all the major league teams play. This past winter I even followed the world baseball tournament with about, apparently, three other people here in the US.

The local team in LaCrosse is called the Loggers in honor of the fact that LaCrosse came to prominence largely through the timber industry. The team is an amateur team comprised of people from various colleges who wish to keep their baseball dreams alive by playing summer ball in a small circuit of similar teams. In lieu of pay they are housed with local families both at home and on the road and when the season is done they return to college.

That kind of team hearkens back to a day when many towns had a local nine and the pride of the city was often on the line when teams met. On this night, even for this level of play, over 3000 fans from LaCrosse came to see the Loggers play the Green Bay Bullfrogs. Cars filled the streets around St. Elias, less than a half city block away from the field, and some came for miles to see the Loggers play. Our seats were in the first row behind the home dug out, great for catching foul balls and so close you could hear the players cough.

But alas is was not to be. The introductions done, the national anthem sung, there was only time for a handful of pitches before the first drops of rain began to fall. Soon it was a torrent, a storm that rushed across the river valley from Minnesota without stopping until the field was soaked beyond repair for the night. It was a good rain, a needed rain, but I still felt a kind of an “Oh rats…” feeling inside as I walked toward my car.

I know there is scandal in the world, and trouble, and things that aren’t right. I’m a Priest and sometimes I have to wallow in it all as part of the job. I even know that baseball is sometimes messed up with chemically enhanced players getting obscene salaries to produce pumped up statistics. Even so there is something about a night under the stars with the sounds and sights and smells of a baseball game that’s like a tonic to me. And last Saturday I only got the slightest taste of it, but I do have a schedule in my pocket and with the best seat in the house costing just $7 I know I’ll be back. Soon.

Peter Hitchens reviews the book “God is not Great” written by his brother, renowned atheist Christopher Hitchens. Interesting read.

Yesterday I had the chance to take a group to from my work site for a tour of St. George Orthodox Church in West St. Paul. Although my assignment is at St. Elias there are times when I assist as services or otherwise get the chance to visit my “home” parish and this visit had a bittersweet quality to it.

The sweetness was the church itself, so beautiful and familiar. Even the smell says home and everything is in its proper place. The bitterness was in what I myself was missing as I watched the new Priest tend to his chores. It was the sense of belonging to a place, of having those ministry routines, the little things that sometimes bother us but are really tasks that identify the place as home.

For the time being I live in suspension, somewhere between being the Priest I was called to be and the Activity Coordinator I must be to keep a roof over my head. Each is a ministry of a kind and neither is to be despised but in life between the two each overlaps the other and both, in some ways, suffer in the divide. And I miss all those little things, the time to visit the sick, to really dig in and prepare good homilies, the freedom to keep ahead of the administrative tasks and stay in the loop, as it were, in the comings and goings of the Diocese. I miss being able to do all those “other” services like Kneeling Prayers that are so important even if hardly anyone shows up.

I sometimes tell the people at St. Elias that what we’re struggling for, what all our work is about is really just the ability to be a “normal” Orthodox Parish. And what I miss sometimes, especially when I visit St. George, is just being a normal Priest.

Some day. Some day.