Mirror in the darkness

Vision

2005-10-29T13:25:00.000+13:00

It's funny how the mind can wander. While recovering from a nasty bout of 'flu, my mind decided to turn to the Last Supper. WTF, you may rightly ask!

No relationship I can discern, but some thoughts that I wanted to record, anyway...

There is an oft expressed arrogance in the modern (I won't say we're "post") world, especially evident when looking back at past scholarship and ideas. "Of course they thought x, they didn't know what we know now."

This type of arrogance has contributed in part to the post-modern religion, which assumes the ancient scholars incapable of wit, so re-presents their ideas on self-referential texts, rhetoric etc. as new knowledge. Anybody who's studied Classics can rightly feel outraged at this point.

My personal crusade against post-modernism (as a religion, or system of belief - some of the tools of post-modern criticism are just as useful today as they were two thousand years ago) has, however, neglected to realise a central example of this arrogance in my own religious affiliation.

Catholicism has just had a Synod of Bishops in Rome. Discussion at this event ranged from the possibility of ordaining married men (let's just pretend the women don't exist, shall we?) to intercommunion with other Christian denominations.

The discussion around intercommunion, and indeed, the recent overemphasis on rubrics of the Mass, can be seen to be rooted in exactly the type of arrogance I'm talking about.

At the Last Supper, most sources agree, Christ sat down with his disciples, broke bread and told them to eat it, for it was his body. Similarly, he took wine, gave thanks and praise, and told them to drink it, for it was his blood. He finished with a simple "do this in memory of me."

If we take a moment to reflect on that first event, and the actions of the disciples afterwards, we can see quite clearly that they had very little idea what Christ was going on about. Yet, and here's the point, they were not only admitted to receive the "body and blood", they were hand-picked by Christ. Knowing that Peter would betray him, knowing that they would all abandon him, he still called them to the table.

The apostles were definitely ignorant of Christ's meaning at the Last Supper. That does not in any way make us superior to them. They were not, as our institutions seem to imply, a simple, naive group, whose lack of understanding arose from a lack of intellect. They were regular human beings, like ourselves, whose confrontation with the divine raised many more questions than answers.

It seems to me, that we call Christ lord and master, then treat him as an invalid. If Christ could celebrate the first Eucharist with a community who were themselves unsure what the hell was going on, how on earth can we stand and proclaim that we *know* exactly what is happening? And even more infuriating, that we *know* the exact way it should happen!

Wouldn't it be better to trust in Christ to effect the celebration as it should be, and welcome all to the table? Wouldn't it be better to abandon the self-righteous creeds and return to a "well, we really aren't too sure what's going on, but we do appreciate all Christ has done for us, and try to live as he asked us to."

Many would say I'm a bad Catholic. I wonder, more and more frequently, if the arrogance of modernity hasn't made us a bad Church.

Sorry for the rambling blog... gave me a chance to get my thoughts in some convoluted order though...

Bearing the light

2005-09-29T12:53:00.000+12:00

We're sometimes required to bear more than just the light, when one finishes typing a long post, and the page decides to reload!

To reproduce the ironically titled blog... wish me luck!

I read an interesting forum on the question of pride yesterday. Pride, the consensus seemed to be, was a "wolf in sheep's clothing", disguised by our corrupt modern society as a virtue.

I would argue that the word itself, like so many in English, has simply evolved and acquired a depth of ambiguity, leading its figurative implication away from earlier definitions. The original use of "pride" as a sin, we must remember, did not arise in English, and we must therefore be careful of overly literal assaults on the word.

In the modern sense, I have pride in many things. I have respect for my ancestors, and am therefore proud of my origins. I am glad for all of the gifts I have been given, and take some pride in those which I have grown and used. Where I have knowingly chosen the right path, I am pleased with my choice, and there is no sin I can discern in that.

Most of all, however, I find pride in the lives of others. I am proud of my 8 year old brother, when he brings home a moving piece of writing, or grasps an abstract concept. I am proud of my parents, who, despite their human flaws, have stood consistently against injustice. I am proud, most of all, of my girl. In her concern for the state of our world, in her love of her friends, in her continual drive to ask the hardest questions of all, I know hope. And this gift that she brings to so many makes me prouder than she will ever know.

One day, if I can grow my gifts to be half as strong as hers, I will be completely proud of myself, too. In the meantime, I can rest secure that the light she bears will shine on in my life, making whole and bringing peace.

Catching moonbeams through fog

2005-09-05T23:42:00.000+12:00

Sometimes, I find, we can grow the most in the most frustrating moments.

Well, after the most frustrating moments, anyway.

Today saw a conversation with the incontestible champion of stupidity. Not one, actually, but two separate half hour phone conversations. After the first, I was ready to strangle someone - or myself. It was after the second that I learned my lesson.

Despite an excruciating couple of hours trying vainly to reason with someone whose vague mental capacity would put Baldrick to shame, I realised a great sense of relief when the problem was sorted out. Suddenly, I could get a sense of perspective, and put aside those tiny worries that plague our everydays. Yet not "put aside" in the apathetic sense: really, consciously allowing myself to relax, to be present to the moment, and to make the most of each second of the afternoon.

Sometimes, I think, it takes a jolt, an extreme of one kind or another, to let us take that step back, that deep breath, and really smile at life. With all of the frustrations - the starving poor, the money owed, unjust war, the friends who arrive late - life is still a wonderful journey.

And like any journey, even the most chaotic path can reveal some amazing sights.

Obscure reflections

2005-08-08T23:54:00.000+12:00

Opposed as I am to government overstepping its role, I somehow feel there should be a checkpoint about here, to stop me typing. In my experience, messages written in a half-stupor (whether alcoholic or fatigue-induced) tend to be the ones you want to take back. That said, the only reader who I know will check this blog is as forgiving as possible, and I'm only updating this tonight for her anyway :P.

I've had one of those days when you wonder about paths not taken. When every intrusion at work only reinforces the perception that you could be doing something different, something more meaningful with life. In the course of my work I read the blogs of people in Iraq, voices shadowed for fear of an oppressive regime, following an oppressive regime, and I wonder at my own journey.

Am I doing anything of consequence?

Am I doing anything for the world?

Am I doing enough for my girlfriend?

Am I doing anything to further myself?

And though I grow to realise it time and time again, it never loses impact when it hits me: isn't there something more important to worry about? It seems, in these sometimes moments of clarity, even at the verge of slumber, that this worry about what I'm doing is redundant, if I'm not worried about my being.

If I can be as fully present as possible in whatever my current reality happens to be, then my doings will acquire meaning for themselves. I have learnt this lesson the hard way, many, many times in the past - and I hope never to stop feeling that familiar flush of embarrassment as I learn it long into the future.

So, after a long day of trying to do too much, I can now relax and simply be - sleepy and ready to collapse into bed, but me.

Mirror in the darkness

2005-08-01T15:15:00.000+12:00

It's taken me awhile to get onto the blog-wagon. I've written newspaper articles commending blogs, signed people up, and followed the blogs of my friends, but something held me back.

I work as an editor, journalist and project manager, and therefore find it slightly unsettling to publish articles in real time. I could, of course, sit on posts overnight, but there's something of the conversational, of the immediate, in blogs that is so refreshing.

Anyway, it's probably a good idea to explain the name of this blog, as my girlfriend has already pointed out. As a poet and writer, I have a great fondness for ambiguities (Friday nights just fly by :P) and I chose a name with several implications for that reason. The mirror in a darkened room, reflecting what little light is present, has a quasi-mystical quality that can really fascinate. I hope that I can use this blog as a mirror for myself and others, to reflect the many lights that shine into my life. So often, the "human condition" is seen as just that, an ailment, and we have all experienced times of doubt and pain. My own experience has taught me, however, that even through the empty numbness of solitude and despair, we can sometimes see those glimmers of light that herald a beautiful dawn.

In the love of friends, in the quest to know, to make meaning of our lives, there is light. The aim of this blog is not to overcome the darkness, but something altogether more beautiful: like sunlight viewed from under the waves, to diffuse those precious rays into a softer medium; to let glimmers of light adorn the darkness.