yijien's Xanga

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Tue, 12 Sep 2006 01:21:02 GMT

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.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Tue, 29 Aug 2006 16:08:41 GMT

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

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 19:40:01 GMT

<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!

Friday, March 24, 2006

Fri, 24 Mar 2006 01:22:09 GMT

<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.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Sun, 26 Feb 2006 19:15:39 GMT

i cling to you
a gaping hole
of neediness
afraid again
to dare to hope
once more

Friday, February 17, 2006

Fri, 17 Feb 2006 02:34:15 GMT

<24 December 6:40pm cont.>
Perhaps listening to the voice of God means in part at least listening to the best of what your heart is telling you, like that's enough canned peaches Yi Jien, stop! Seriously! I feel like God has been helping me to select my food in moderation! Not too much, not too little; enough to make me full and comfortable, even slightly heavy like now, but not enough to make me unhapppy later. I'm not sure I'm all too good at discerning his voice from my own inner desires and states half the time though. I'm pretty sure that when I got out of bed at 9pm (yes that's late here) to find Siu Yin to make peace with her, that had to be God's command. I'm not sure that when I chose to break fast at 4.50 this afternoon that it was his idea... in fact I'm pretty sure it was not. Actually I don't think I thought it was his then either, but merely that it was ok, as I knew my fast was over after I took a prayer walk in the garden. But then when I got down on the bed to pray at some point I thought at first I heard the Spirit saying, go read your Bible instead.. and I was like, what is that really you? And there was silence... so I went on praying, and I believe it was a fruitful time of prayer. Test the spirits, I need more discernment, wisdom and sensitivity. Lord have mercy.

----

Hm, their fudge was like all the food in his place, wholesome, well-made just as sweet and rich as it should be. I wouldn't mind it being a bit more decadent though. That brings me to one thing I've been wondering about. Moderation is good, and should be what we live by. But is there a time and season for celebration that involves perhaps a little over-indulgence, a little decadence, a little uninhibited laughter and pleasure? Perhaps the answer is that celebration should be in moderation as well. Being moderately over-indulgent, decadent with hilarity every once in awhile is probably ok! We are after all sleeping past midnight tonight because of midnight Christmas eve mass, which will no doubt throw off all the poor monks who are used to sleeping at 8 and waking up at 3!

Monday, February 06, 2006

Mon, 06 Feb 2006 17:08:22 GMT

<24 December 6.40pm>

God has been speaking something new to me this afternoon. Peace, be still my child. Lean against my breast, like a weaned child (Ps 131). I memorized that psalm this afternoon, and it has been a great blessing already. I was annoyed at myself during and after Vespers this now (which in itself is pride, as I reflect upon it now) that I was spending mental energy wondering whether I would have stomach for dinner being a little full from my 4.50 slice of toast and tea. I was legitimately annoyed that I hadn't learned the simple discipline of self-control and moderation, having much gluttony in my system--part of the reason to fast is to renounce this after all--but it was pride that caused me to be slightly over-annoyed. Yet I prayed Ps 131, and found my center again, and though full decided to eat as I needed nourishment.

My amusement at myself is sometimes now more like mild annoyance at my own silliness. I need to give myself grace. I know this as I type this, and yet I need to continue to discipline my heart, thoughts and emotions to conform to his. It's not an easy tightrope to walk. With time I pray that I may become the servant-man that he is to us. God is really giving me the grace of great sensitivity to my own sin. I need to maintain my spiritual discipline if I am to allow the Holy Spirit to continue to be present in this way.

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Tue, 31 Jan 2006 22:42:47 GMT

The last few weeks have passed in a blur. It's been a very fullsome time, busy, yet not hectic, tiring but not exhausting. between Siu Yin and my January intensive class, it's been a very wholesome existence. everyone who knows me will be amazed that i've been getting up to swim at 7am each morning, and trying to sleep by 12am each night (though it doesn't exactly always work out!) i do feel better generally, though I'm certainly tired at times. I'm a bit out of schedule right now because of various circumstances (like 15 page papers) but since Gethsemane, I have generally slept within 10 minutes... which is quite unheard of for me. I think there has been only one or two nights when I really couldn't sleep. (My mum knows what a miracle that is having had to rock me to sleep as a baby and send me back to bed multiple times many nights as a kid).

Well I'm going to keep posting the rest of my journals from Gethsemani over the next few days, probably more regularly now that I have a few moments to myself. Have a couple more things to do tonight.

<24 December 12.32pm>

I guess today is my writing day. Just came back from Sext. I've been wondering how I can integrate the discipline of regular times of prayer into my daily life back at Seminary. The excuse that I don't have enough time hardly cuts any bread. My main worry is that knowing my self, I would be good about it for a week or two, and then after that it will slip gradually till I'm back to where I was through most of the semester, 5 minutes of reading Scripture before bed, and then praying with the lights out, at least till other thoughts took over, which is something that happens pretty fast. Spiritual discipline is a very physical exercise a lot of the time. What I need really are other people to do it with and to hold me accountable. 7 times a day doesn't seem really all that much, but it will probably seem a lot more when papers come due and readings pile up. If I were on the ball, awake and productive during the rest of the time, it work I'm sure. All told I don't think they worship and pray even here more than 2-3 hours a day. 2 hours a day is not even a tithe of our time! I spend at least that talking to people every day, especially if you count meal times. Yet 2 hours seems a lot to devote exclusively to him. Then there's always personal devotions to factor in as well. Yet how much fuller and richer our lives would be if we devoted 1/8th of our time to him!

Perhaps 2 half hour periods, and 2 fifteen minute periods. Half an hour before breakfast (Virgils, 7am) , fifteen minutes before lunch (None, 12.10pm), fifteen minutes before dinner (Vespers, 5.15pm), half an hour before bed (Compline, 9.30pm).None should probably be canceled on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays, (for chapel, chapel and church, as well as maybe Wednesdays for chapel as well) but otherwise the rest should remain in place. That sounds doable, a worship service every 5 hours; and it's just an hour and a half of the day devoted to communal worship of Christ. Of course, not even 2-3 people attend the one half an hour eucharist that Peter has been organizing in Larabee Mon-Thurs, but that's ok, few and faithful is good. 4, not as famous a number as 3, 5 or 7, but it is the number of rivers that flow forth from Eden (Gen 2), and the number of sections of the river of life (Ezek 47), whose leaves will bring healing to the nations (Rev 22). A lot you can do with a number! :) Perhaps something like this, a rythmn of life marked by prayer, can bring some sanity to the insaneness of seminary overload. What this really calls for is a prayerbook project that would be truly ecumenical yet utterly devoted to the Christian tradition, including the richness of much neglected (in the West) Eastern spirituality. To try to make it international in its prayers and scope would be asking too much.

My mind has many grand ideas. This is one of its better... but it's a big project, and perhaps one for the future. I'm sure we can get by using some simply adapted version of the liturgy of the hours.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Sun, 15 Jan 2006 20:31:31 GMT

Have been rather busy the last week or two. Was intending to post these faster, but it still takes a few minutes to edit each. Have a few more to go, so stay tuned.

----

<24 December 10.58am>

I don't know if my reflections and random meanderings that I have thus far journaled have reflected my state of body, heart and mind the last few days. When I decided somewhat reluctantly to come to Gethsemani about two weeks ago, I was thinking about all the celebration and food--which was what I really wanted--that I would be missing out. Christmas is after all a time of celebration, and I was not terribly terribly enthused about spending it at a monastery. Well, part of me knew that it would be good for me, and that was what I needed more perhaps, but most of me was counting the cost in roast ham and laughter, candied yam and good conversation. But unfortunately, or providentially as the case may be, no one got the hint--and I left a few--that I was quite willing to run away elsewhere for Christmas. Perhaps x'mas would be more apt. I was more Jonah, Moses or Gideon than Isaiah!

Yet, this Advent has been the most meaningful Advent of my life. The brother spoke this morning of two Christmases. The Christmas of parties, revelry and celebration; and the Christmas season of silence and emptiness: A Christmas in which God prepares the dirtiest of straw in the meanest of cribs, even us, to receive the new life of Christ incarnate within us.

-- of events that occured on the 22nd of December, ca. 9.15pm

Siu Yin and I had been sorting out some issues between us, which involved some "intense discussion". We had not achieved good closure, and as we parted I felt led to do the stations of the cross in the garden outside the retreat house. So I bundled up as best as I could, and walked out of the house and down the steps. It struck me to walk through the stations with little half steps like a reluctant pilgrim. Throughout that day God had been giving me greater brokeness over my pride. Twice at least I was on my knees weeping as I cried the Jesus prayer, "Jesus Christ, Son of David, have mercy on me a sinner!" And as I began to take baby steps along the path my Lord walked, I began to weep, a sorrow that became such great racking sobs that I could barely get out "Take this cup away from me!" as I fell on the path. And again, I found it in me to gasp the prayer of my Christ, and again fell to the ground in grief. And again, "Not my will but yours be done!" as I touched my forehead to the cold ground.

So great a gift was this sorrow! Who am I to partake in the sufferings of my Lord and Savior? What grace to know even the least of his agonies for me. And I knew that I could renounce this path at any time, that I had but to resist and it would leave, and though my body was sore with the deep groaning sobs that racked my sides, I could only plead almost in fear, that he would not take away this grace from me. And I continued; not sure at times whether I could bear this grief, bent over double, the phlegm and the tears dripping unceasingly from my heart, fully in control, and yet led inexorably by my Lord to each station. I did not understand each carving in the dark, and yet each that I flung myself upon found for me new anguish till I cried, "Why you my Lord, why you and not me? Not Me?"

And finally I threw myself arms out face to the ground, the sorrow ceased, and I was still. From one horizon to another the velvet dome above me was ablaze with wonder. Every star above cried glory! And I could not but thank my God in the quiet of my soul, even as I
cast away thoughts of how much I would boast of this grace--humbly of course!

-- came in ca. 9.45pm

The last two days since I received that mercy have been a constant struggle against myself. It's perhaps not so much that God has magically made me humble, but rather that he has given me a far greater sensitivity to the ways that I foolish arrogate myself all the time. I can only laugh at myself when I catch myself going, "How much more humble I am than she!" or in my even less guarded moments, "There goes the humble one!" Again and again and again I have to pray "Jesus Christ, Son of David, have mercy on me, a sinner!" Again and again I have to empty myself because I am empty, I just don't know it. I have to empty my delusions of having it all together, of having arrived, of being smarter, quicker and more humorous than everybody else. Again and again I am led to my knees, to the simple realization that I am dust and to dust I shall return a sinner. Thanks be to God!

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Sat, 07 Jan 2006 17:49:50 GMT

<23 December 7.03pm>

Wow. So much has happened in the last 48 hours, I can hardly know where to start. Of course I should have journaled some time this afternoon, but things being the way they were, I didn't have time. There is so much to write about, not only over the last 2 days, but also over the last week and a half. I want to start this now, but compline is in 20 minutes, and then I should try to sleep. God is doing so much in my life and Siu Yin's life, both of our lives together really--as well as apart--there's really too much to journal.

I guess the charism I received last night is really the culmination of a semester of God's work in me. A few bad mixups coupled with a few bad grades, and some conflicts with certain professors... I thought that God was teaching me to find my security in him... and he was. Perhaps that was at least partly in preparation for the way he has pulled all stops on my pride the last few days. Of course, the other big way that God has prepared me for this was that paper I wrote for McFarlane. He may not have liked it, or would rather me have put in a bunch of citations instead of making the point in the strong hortatorical fashion that comes naturally for me when I write about Scripture. I'm in the process of forgiving and letting go of my frustration toward him (and have deleted some half-finished sentences that were more sacarstic already), but I still have a long long way to go. That's refreshing, to be able to say and write that earnestly, aware a bit more of just how sinful I am. I guess that's some tangible fruit of God's humbling hand upon me the last few days.