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yijien
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Name: yi jien Birthday: 2/23/1981 Gender: Male
Interests: storm clouds, autumn leaves, theology, human beings, sunsets, philosophy, long meandering walks, golden evenings, international politics, soul-forming, saving the earth from ourselves, photography, and beauty in every form. Occupation: Student
Message: message me
Member Since:
6/21/2004
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| You come through the doorway, hardened with pain. And I
plead and cry and beg, and you push, and you ignore, and you try your darnest
to get rid of me, flesh against stone, until tears soak into my words and I am
choked, and my voice is a hoarse whisper. And you break, and we cry, and we
hold. And words pile upon words as I lie close to you till it seems that for a
few glistening moments we are one again, until the poison within us turns them
into stale air hanging in the cool autumn evening; till you wrap your heart
against your chest and shut yourself out as I tell you that I am sorry I
couldn’t do better. And the sorrow within wells up and runs everywhere across
my face, warm rivulets of rejection and pain, till I am left with no more tears
left to cry and nothing more to say. I am empty yet strangely full. The warm
tears have run cold, and yet my head is clear. I hear You say, “Blessed are the
peacemakers, for their’s is the kingdom of heaven.” But what is the use of being
a peacemaker if I could make no peace? I
have peace it is true, an ephemeral sense of wholeness, perhaps nothing more
than the fragile bliss that catharsis allows us. Yet it is precious and holy,
and I cling to it as I fall asleep in our bed, alone tonight. | | |
| Life flies on heedless, a train with the gear stuck at all ahead. And yet, sometimes it lingers slowly, on and on, a snail oozing across the white horizon. Everything is different, everything is the same. Nothing is the same, yet everything is. We are the same. The same problems, the same quarrels, the same things that divide us, the same things that unite us. You think that when you cross that line, get that title, move to that new place, that things will be different, everything will change, and all the demons that you keep frantically stuffing back into your box will miraculously get zapped off into oblivion. But as my mum sagely remarked, “It’s pretty much the same, except you live together.” And you know what, mum, not for the first time—though perhaps not as many times as you think—you were right.
Hope springs eternal from the human breast, hope of a way that does not involves tiredly dragging your feet on beyond the limits of your aching muscles, your palpitating heart and your throbbing temples, hope of an instant cure, a miracle drug, a panacea that will take away all ills and make us happy. Make us happy. What is happiness? Is happiness never being angry, never being hurt, never having to endure grief, loss or pain, and always wearing an irrepressible smile on one’s face? Is happiness having all our needs, wants, and every little niggling itch scratched, pampered and powdered? Is that what heaven is about?
We are always seeking another way, another place, another path that does not involve all the discomforts and annoyances of this life, and yet is there another way? There was another human who asked the same question about 2000 years ago, three times, “Father if it is possible, take this cup away from me.” Jesus himself, the God-who-became-man, asked the same question that haunts our kind, “Isn’t there an easier, better way?” It was a question that pierced his very soul, for his was a path that would sunder the fabric of Love itself, tearing apart the Three who are from all eternity One. And yet there was no other way. No other way for even the One for whom all things were possible. No other way other than the road to Calvary.
The Author and Finisher of our faith, has run the race ahead of us and he beckons, “Come. Take up your cross and follow me.” Lord Jesus Christ, let not our will but yours be done.
----
burning throbbing wild and strong
icy rigid proud and fey
hot and cold tender and hard smoldering simmering melting aching hollow yet proud
spark and grind flame and steam we will ever be iron against iron till we are soft enough to be his clay broken enough to be whole and His enough to be one.
19.8.06
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<24 December 9.00pm>
Have been
having some fruitful time to process and think things through. It's really nice
to have time to just lie and think and allow your mind to roam freely over
stuff. Not worry you understand, but just let thoughts and ideas flow, pulling
threads of thought together, and letting new ones flourish. I'm pretty sure I could
be a contemplative. The life appeals to me. Thinking, worshipping, writing,
manual labor, good, wholesome, life in harmony with God and human beings. Not
that I have delusions about the ease of the monk's life, but there's a
simplicity and connectedness (if that's not too touch-feely vague a term) to
their life, a quality of satisfaction and fullness of spirit that greatly
appeals to me. Perhaps the guy who was speaking in the video they showed us was
right. It is such an ordinary life, because in many ways it is the kind of life
we are all called to. It is perhaps that they have come to find a way of living
that when lived as it should be, is as close as we come to the life of fruitful
labor and joyful simplicity that we would have had apart from the fall. Again,
all this sounds like I'm idealizing it, and perhaps we should to some extent
because we are all called to be contemplatives in action (which is a famous
saying of I forget whom, one church father from the middle ages,
"contemplation in action").
Not
perhaps that the average Catholic is much more spiritual than the average
Protestant, but they at least in the core of their faith and within the church
have deep roots of spirituality that go back thousands of years which we
Protestants are really just beginning to recover. Blame it on Luther and his
perhaps overzealous disbanding of all the monastries and nunneries, but whether
you blame the Reformers or their less subtle descendents, we have to get in
touch with a lot of tradition that the Catholic and Orthodox sister and brother
are already at home with. On the other hand, we bring with us a greater
reliance upon the book of the church from which comes many correctors small and
large to the tradition--which is not of course infallible. As the monks here
evidence however, the best of Catholicism is very much in love with the Bible
and deeply revere its authority. We on the other hand, good moderns that we
are, are rather suspicious of anything that is traditional and antiquarian, and
have little respect for the fathers of our faith who have blazed the path
before us. It is not that we don't have our own traditions but perhaps more
that we disguise them as something else--creed, doctrine, teaching? What we
generally have lost is the traditions of the great catholic church that
go back to the early church fathers in an unbroken line of faith, marred at
times no doubt, but yet holy and sanctified by the Holy Spirit at work down
through the ages. Never beyond correction, but with so much insight and authority
that we ignore them at the peril of losing who we are.
I wonder
whether the time is right for a monastic order within the Protestant tradition,
that is in touch with the traditions of the church universal, and that of our
Catholic brethren. Could such a movement be a catalyst for revival and renewal
of the church as monasticism has been in the past? Or perhaps what we need is a
renewal of monasticism within the church, in the lives of people who are fully
in the world and yet not off it. Not that the Catholic orders are not, many are
(though the Trappists definitely aren't), but they certainly have a more
other-worldly sense to them that Christians within family, church and life in
the world at large do not. There is a growing interest in monasticism, mainly
perhaps because many are beginning to understand our impoverishment
spiritually, but also because of the spiritual anomie of this generation
(mainly but not limited of course to the West). Perhaps we need both.
----
2 more
hours before Christmas Eve mass. I haven't ever written this much for... fun?
Perhaps the clarification of my own thoughts and to put out a lot of what I
have been thinking into a concrete form. I dare not think about one day my
journals being published like Merton's. Perish the thought!
:)
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<24 December 6.40pm cont.p3.>
A source
of a little guilt early on this retreat was partaking of the Eucharist, as it
states clearly that the members of other churches that are not fully united
with the Catholic church should not partake as the Eucharist is a symbol the
unity of the "faith, life and worship". I had been going to the Mass
every morning (sans one) because of my prima facie theological belief that we
are all fully one in Christ whatever the institutions may say (a belief which I
think many of the brothers here would agree with, whatever their institution
might say). It did make me feel a little guilty (and does still a little
perhaps), wondering whether I was breaking their hospitality thus. It struck me
recently however that I don't really claim membership to any one church,
Protestant, Catholic or Orthodox. When people ask me that, I always say, I grew
up Methodist... but I'm a Christian! Thus, really, although technically I do
hold membership in the Methodist church in Malaysia, my allegiance is not to
that church, but to Christ and Christ alone, and his church universal. Thus, I
feel that as long as I am in a church that I believe to serve our Risen Savior,
and one that can see me as a fellow believer, by my participation, I both
receive their communion, and validate their standing in the body of Christ.
Besides,
my theological positions and stances are really very very close to Catholic
dogma in most of the issues that really matter, like the relationship between
tradition and Scripture. There are ways at which I part company with their
traditions, particularly over the veneration (which practically is almost
worship--whatever the technical distinction is) of Mary. I am however, utterly
with Wesley when he says something to the effect that, "in essentials
unity, in non-essentials freedom, and in everything humility". If my
brother wishes to ask Mary to pray for him, or St. Bernard for that matter, I
may not particularly think that it is a Scriptural idea, but it is not exactly
un-Scriptural either, and it is not something we need to break fellowship over.
In all the ways that matter, these beloved monks and all true Catholics are my
brothers and sisters in Christ, and my heart is that we will all break our
ridiculous pride, and bring our hearts together for the sake of our Savior,
whose heart is more broken than we can know over our petty quarrels.
Thus I
partake of the sacred body and blood of my Savior here knowing that we all will
one day be united before his throne of grace--and hopefully before.
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| i cling to you a gaping hole of neediness afraid again to dare to hope once more
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