ORTHODIXIE ... Southern, Orthodox, Convert, Etc.

Below you will find two lists from a book I'm reading by Matthew the Poor. I'm a "lists person." When I was doing my clinical work my fellow chaplains said that when I died I could check that off my list: LIFE, that is.

Anyway, unlike certain Bibles where the words of Jesus are in red, you'll find the words that spoke to Joseph in red below (i.e., emphasis mine).

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1. We should not see austerity, or asceticism, as an end in itself. Neither should we delight in practicing it to the exclusion of everything else. By doing so we are only allowing it to distract us from progressing toward God and completing our union with him in mature love.

2. Ascetic disciplines are nothing more than the means to mortify the old Adam and crucify our will, our passions, and the desires that work in us for iniquity. Ascesis is only a way of showing our love and tender feelings toward God.

3. Perseverance in practicing the kinds of austerities after being renewed and filled with grace serves only to counter the tendency to hanker after what the world offers. It helps to restrain the will from inclining toward sin.

4. If we make progress in such a discipline, this should not become a matter of pride. If it does, we will open ourselves up to the spirit of self-righteousness. This will immediately arrest our spiritual growth.

5. The most austere asceticism can never erase even a single sin. It cannot atone for the slightest transgression we may have committed. Such is the case if that austerity is devoid of love toward God or of the intercession of free grace. For this is only attainable by the blood of Christ.

6. Our asceticism should not be so severe as to be cruel to our own body. It should not prevent us from performing the daily tasks of life actively.

7. Our attention should be inwardly focused upon the will, which drives us to lust and sin. This perverse will of ours craves for what belongs to it. All its aims terminate at one point: the ego. The ego is our enemy. We have to struggle against it with our fasts and vigils until it dies completely. It is only then that we will possess the new will, which carries our the will of God alone. [See the list regarding ego below.]

8. Asceticism should not assume the form of a bodily suppression or repression For once the practice of ascesis disappears, the result is an acute reaction. Man returns to his former state or even to a more depraved one. Asceticism should be soberly and wisely practiced, not out of grief or pain but in joy and happiness. The limits of the ascetic life should be set by the guidance of a prudent spiritual father. Those who practice it should not underreach or overreach the limits of their abilities. Otherwise, the practice may cease altogether, in which case the ascetic life will lose its desired fruit. Ascetic discipline should begin below the level of one’s ability. It should then ascend and grow until it turns into a natural personal quality that forms a major part of one’s way of life.

9. If ascetic discipline is devoid of love and joy in the Lord, it turns into a source of depression, sullenness, and perturbation. It may also be a cause of pride and self-righteousness.

10. Many are those who have struggled and freed themselves from the world by the most severe austerities. However, since they did not submit themselves to the hand of God and the work of grace in lowliness and humility, they have gone astray. If we are freed from the world, we must also be freed from ourselves, so that God can take us and shape us freely.

– Matthew the Poor, Orthodox Prayer Life: The Interior Way, pp.118-119.

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1. Never rely on your own wisdom or might or on human strength in any of your works. Otherwise, your mind will become dim and your insight blurred, thus blocking the way for grace to enter you and show you the way of God. You will thus be led astray from truth and fall into the enemy’s trap. At the end, you will be enslaved to your own ego and to the desires of other people, “Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and shrewd in their own sight!” (Is.5.21).

2. Beware of thinking highly of yourself. Never feel that without you the world would stop. For your self would seem great and grand in your own eyes. Know instead that God can use another to do the work better than you. He can make the weak mighty and the mighty weak, the wise foolish and the foolish wise. Everything good and useful in you is from God and not from you. If you do not hand it over to God and with conviction attribute it to him, he will tear it away from you. If you boast of your intelligence or virtue, God will leave them to you as merely human gifts. They will then turn into corruption, loss, and damage.

3. Your ego might hate submitting to God. It might escape surrendering to him. In the meantime, you would be making much of your own power – attributing your intelligence, virtue, and success to yourself. In this case, God will deliver you to continual discipline; discipline after discipline, tribulation after tribulation, until you succumb and surrender in brokenness. But if you reject discipline and cannot stand tribulation, God will forsake you forever.

4. Take heed then and open your ears: Either count yourself as nothing in word and deed and make up your mind to surrender yourself to God will all your might – and you will then gladly be released from your ego by the grace of God; or, you will be delivered to discipline until you are set free from your ego in spite of yourself. So if you wish to opt for the easier way, take that of voluntary submission. Count yourself from now on as nothing, and follow the path of grace wherever the Spirit may wish to lead you.

5. Know for certain that submission to God and total surrender to his will and divine plan are a free gift of grace. It thus demands, besides prayer and supplication, a trusting faith to receive this gift. This should be coupled with a longing springing from one’s heart that God may not deliver us to discipline for our folly, nor abandon us to our own wisdom. For this reason, we should have an extremely resolute will to renounce our own self at all times and in all works. This should not be done ostentatiously before people but within our conscience. Blessed is the man who can discover his own weakness and ignorance and confess them before God to the last day of his life.

6. If you fall under discipline, know for sure that this is a great profit, for God chastises the soul that has forgotten its weakness and has been puffed up by its talents and success. This is carried on until it realizes its weakness, especially when God does not provide in tribulation a way to escape. He besieges the soul from all sides and embitters it with inward and outward humiliation, whether by sin or by scandal, until it abhors itself, curses its own intelligence, and disowns its counsel. Finally, it surrenders itself to God, feeling crushed and lowly. At such a time, it becomes easy for man to hate himself. He even wishes to be hated by everybody. This is the way of true humility. It leads to total surrender to divine plan. It ends up with freeing one’s soul from the tyranny of the ego, with its deception, its stubbornness, and its vanity.

7. If you wish to free your soul by the shortest and simplest way, sit down every day under the discipline of grace. Examine your thoughts, movements, intentions, purposes, words, and deeds in the light of God’s word. It is then that you shall discover the corruption of the ego, its imposture, slyness, deception, vanity, and lack of chastity. If you persist in doing this regularly in contrition, you will manage to sever yourself from your false and devilish ego. You will then be able to overpower it bit by bit until you can deny it altogether, hate it, and break jail from its tyranny. You will at last discover the catastrophe into which your ego has led you for obeying it, finding peace in its shelter, boasting of it, and seeking its respect.

The moment you realize at the bottom of your heart that you are nothing and that God is everything, then the truth shall have set you free.

– Matthew the Poor, Orthodox Prayer Life: The Interior Way, pp 122-124.

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It was only a dream.

Yet, for an eternal moment I felt as if I were the only person in the universe, floating through a vast darkness -- no light, anywhere.

Then, off in the distance, I saw a blinding white light such as I’d never seen before.

As I approached the light, I became increasingly aware of all the sinful actions of my life.

But it was more than that. I also became extremely aware of my attitudes, past thoughts and prejudices -- so much so that I wanted to leave my body. I wanted to jump out of this dirty sinful self and into the bright Holy Light ...

But I could not.

Instead, I entered the brilliant unknown realm just as I was ...

I was greeted by someone that I perceived to be an angel. Unlike the angels I’d always imagined, this being had no wings, no harp, no baby face. He did not sit on a cloud of white.

However, he was extremely beautiful.

“Welcome,” said the angel.

I could not tear my eyes away from the beautiful light that radiated from his face.

Again, “Welcome.”

“Hello,” I muttered, “where am I?”

He smiled and said “Surely you received and accepted our invitation, or you would not be here. You must know where you are.”
“No, no ..” I said, “please tell me.”

“This is the Kingdom of God. All is beauty, all is holy, all is love. Everything -- including YOU (my dirty little man) is here because God wills it to be so.”

“But I’m not worthy,” I sighed.

“Yes. You are right, you’re not,” he replied.

For the first time since my arrival, I was able to peel my eyes away from his radiant face and scan the holy land. I cannot describe for you this place ... its beauty ... the light.

Then suddenly, my eyes glimpsed someone I knew -- a sinner from earth! I said to the angel “Surely you must be mistaken. I am not in heaven -- for look there, that man is a sinner! I knew him. I doubt he believed in Jesus Christ ... and, as far as I know, he never went to church a day in his life! What is he doing here?”

“He was invited,” said the guide. “He came.”

For a brief horrifying moment, I saw my own reflection in his beautiful face.

As we traveled along, I saw others that I knew -- both sinners and saints. I was very confused -- and yet, at the same time, quite overwhelmed. I asked my guide many questions. But his answers all had something to do with “they were invited,” “accepted our invitation,” or, “because God wills it to be so.”

Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks. There stood Jack Tyndall. I despised him! Oh, how I hated him!

I turned to the light-filled being and said, “I can’t believe he is here! I cannot stand him!”

“But, remember,” said the angel, “remember ... once, twice -- you prayed for him.”

[He’s right. Although it almost killed me, I did make it a habit to pray for my enemies.]

“Is that why he’s here?!” I whined.

“No -- that’s how you got in,” he said.

My head began to swim with confusion. Sure, I’d prayed for my enemies -- but, I surely hadn’t prayed that I’d spend eternity with them!

Then, almost like a staged parade, one by one, enemies and scoundrels alike all passed before me. I started yelling at my angelic guide.

“But she’s an adulteress! Everyone knew she slept around all over town. She had no morals.”

“God invited her,” he said. “Everything changed when she accepted our invitation.”

“Him! I can’t believe this, surely I’m in the wrong place. I mean, that guy cared for nothing but money! He had no faith!”

“In you maybe,” replied the angel, “but, in his time he donated much money to the Church and to charitable causes allowing many to live a better life to the glory of God. You may not have recognized it on earth but, here, we look into one’s heart -- and his is as big as the moon and filled with the love of God.”

By now, I’d started to cry. I saw nothing before me but people I’d hated. Where were the folks that I loved. Where was my wife? My mother? My father? Grandmother? Where were all of my friends who’d died?

Almost on the brink of hysteria, I turned to the glowing creature and pleaded “But, where are my loved ones?”

“Why should they be here?” he asked.

“For me!” I shouted. “Because I love them! They are my family! No, maybe they weren’t all perfect -- but they were good folks. Please, oh please, tell me where are my loved ones?”

He, too, shed a tear. The light subsided a bit, and he showed me his hands, his feet and side. In an instant, I recognized Him.

In that same moment, I became white as snow -- no longer feeling dirty and unworthy.

He said to me, “I, too, know love. And it is my love that has brought you, and these people, to this Kingdom. Many whom you love are here also, but you should know that they are no more loved than these whom you hate. For they are all My family. I am the Judge. My Father has given me the reign of His Kingdom. And as you know, I opened my heart for the love of the world -- that those who love Me might inherit eternal life.”

He then vanished from my sight ...

... and all those who were before me changed.

No.

I changed.

I saw clearly, for the first time, that these were not my enemies. They were ... my family.

All things became clear ... “God so loved the world ...”

“Jesus died for your sins.”

“God’s will ...”

“God’s invitation ...”

“God.”

I became overwhelmed with joy! There was shouting, dancing, music and, spread before me -- the family, and all the hosts of heaven -- was a great feast surrounding the throne of Light!

But, someone was missing. Where was the guide who’d brought me to the banquet? -- who’d opened my eyes?

Where was the Christ -- Who’d taught me so much? Where was He who loved me? Where was He that had died that I might live? He was with me just a moment ago ...

Turning to my neighbor, I asked “Where is He? The Bridegroom?"
He nodded in the direction of the gate through which I had entered -- and there stood the Lord Jesus, sadly waiting by the entrance to the Kingdom.

“What’s wrong? Why does he stand there so sullen?”

“He’s waiting for Judas” -- came the reply.

“He’s waiting for Judas.”

**


God’s wait by the gate may just as well be for me, for you, or anyone who is unrepentant. For God’s Love is immeasurable, as is His forgiveness. Yet unless we turn unto Him, believe and repent, we may miss out on the Great Reward that He has prepared for us. Both Peter and Judas were called to follow Christ. The difference between these two disciples is repentance. It is only through repentance that we are granted, through the Holy Spirit, the freedom to enter into the Joy of the Father’s Kingdom, through His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour.

For as St. Paul’s letter to Timothy tells us “God desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. For there is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as ransom for all ....”

** Literary devices used are for the benefit of the reader and not intended to support the doctrine of apocatastisis (the doctrine that ALL shall be saved).

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[T]he union of man with God, or deification, is a legitimate aim to seek. This is due to the preexisting union between divinity and humanity in the incarnation. It is Christ, then, who has set it before us as an aim. Union here includes all the gratuitous means of grace – baptism, Holy Communion, and perpetual repentance. Union also includes struggles such as fasting, chastity, bridling of tongue and mind. It involves constant prayer as well as acts of love and humility. It certainly includes as well God’s invisible succor to those who strive to reach him.

– Matthew the Poor, Orthodox Prayer Life - The Interior Way, p.107.

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Several years ago when I was still serving in the Russian Church Abroad, Fr David Moser invited me to deliver a presentation at the Southwest Deanery Clergy Retreat in San Francisco, entiled: "American Converts and the Pastoral Issues They Bring to the Church". What a glorious trip & experience that was! I visited the grave of Fr Seraphim Rose in Platina and got to spend almost a week by the relics of St John of Shanghai and San Francisco there in the Cathedral. I also got to meet some top notch clergy -- one of whom is a blogger, Fr John McCuen.

Anyway ...

Portions of my presentation can be heard on this week's radio program (8/21) on Come Receive the Light. Those of you without local broadcast can hear it on the web over the next week.

God willing, I'll eventually get this talk published. Though appropriate (regardless of jurisdiction), I don't think a publisher is going to go for my title (listed at the head of this post). Below is the CRTL plug. Enjoy!



8/20/2004 The Weekly Newsletter of the Orthodox Christian Network
CRTL Press Releases
Read the latest CRTL Press Release

Contact Us
info@receive.org This week's message from Father Christopher Metropulos

IF I HAD IT TO DO AGAIN, WOULD I?

“If I knew then what I know now…” ever said that? Have you ever wondered if you knew the hurdles you’d have to overcome to achieve certain goals if you’d do it again? Are some victories worth any price?

There is an Orthodox convert I know who’s faced unbelievable challenges since he converted to Orthodoxy and I asked him once if he thought it had been worth the effort to actually leave the church he was pastoring, deal with the misunderstanding of friends and family, and answer all those questions over and over again. He said “yes” it was worth it, and if he had it to do all over, he’d do it again. “Why?” I asked.

He then quoted a scripture to me. “Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” John 6:68

Jesus had just finished telling the crowd gathered around Him "I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. (John 6:53)

The crowd gathered around Jesus because He had just fed them miraculously. They were drawn to Him because their bellies were full, not because they were spiritually hungry. And when Jesus confronted them with a “hard saying” they left Him. As the crowd dispersed, Jesus asked His disciples if they too would leave Him and Peter answer "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68)

This convert had learned a lesson about truth, and about being a true disciple of Jesus: Truth doesn’t mean ease, but it does mean peace.

The fact of the matter is that we are all really converts. All of us, especially those of us blessed by God to have been raised in an Orthodox home, have to make the faith our own. We have to come to grips with the claims of Jesus to be the Lord of our lives and not just a cultural security blanket.

We have to learn the lessons of converts.

First, conversion isn’t a one time event. To be sure, there are times in our lives when we make that first committed step of faith, but I pray it won’t be our last step. In our own lives, there are times when we have made a strong commitment to develop our faith and those times are precious to us, but we can’t sit on past events. Our spiritual journey is to be an ongoing growth in the life God has given us in His Son. As St. Paul said, we are to move from “glory to glory.”(2 Cor. 3:18)

Second, conversion costs. Nothing worthwhile comes easy, and that is especially true of spiritual growth. We live in a world where it is easy to live a selfish life and hard to swim against the tide of “me first.” Jesus told His disciples “And whoever does not bear his cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has enough to finish it-- lest, after he has laid the foundation, and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, "This man began to build and was not able to finish.' (Luke 14:27-30)

If we place value on our spiritual maturing and spiritual growth, we’ll come to expect that our growth probably will cost us in time, effort, and even hardship. When we commit to growing in our faith, we face the opposition of the Evil One, the world around us, and even our own laziness.

Finally, conversion is worth it. You’ve heard me quote over and over again that we will “reap if we do not faint.” There are so many things in this life that try to draw your energy, things that, in light of eternity, just don’t deserve the attention and time we give them. But this is never true of the efforts we expend to grow in our faith and develop our spiritual selves. With all the wisdom and beauty preserved for us and available to us as Orthodox Christians, we can see our lives truly “converted” to that new life Christ gave the whole world on that first Pascha morning. It’s your birth right. Don’t forsake it for that which can rust and turn to dust.

This week we visit again with Fr. Joseph Huneycutt. He’ll tell us about the unique pastoral issues converts face as they become Orthodox.

We’ll also hear from Fr. Thomas Zell of Conciliar Press about AGAIN magazine.

The summer has been a particular challenge for us this year. Your generous financial gift during August will go a long way in helping us face the fall in good shape. Email me this week and let me know you’ll be a contributor.

Until next week.

Yours for the spread of Orthodoxy,

Fr. Chris Metropulos

P.S. Here’s my email address, just click mailto:frchris@receive.org.


CRTL News
THE LONE STAR STATE GETS CRTL

Abilene, Texas joins the growing number of cities where you can hear CRTL locally.

Starting this weekend you can hear CRTL on KWKC AM 1340.

SHARE THE LIGHT SUPPORT DINNERS

We are already getting started with our planning to come to several cities this fall with Support Dinners.

Our very first dinner is scheduled for September 30th in San Francisco. Stay tuned to this news section for more details.



Parish of the Week
St. Paul’s Orthodox Church in Irvine California is our Parish of the week. Located on Alton Parkway in Irvine, this parish is a mainstay of support for CRTL and one of the earliest Share The Light Parishes in California.

Visit them on their web site at http://www.stpaulsirvine.org and when your in Irvine on a Sunday morning make sure you join this dynamic parish for worship.


Affiliate of the Week
WDJC AM 850 in Birmingham Alabama is our Affiliate of the Week. Each Satirday at 10:30 you can hear CRTL throughout the Birmingham area.

Email the station at mailto:937wdjc@hotmail.com and let them know you are glad they are helping to make a national Orthodox media presence a reality.

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Huw has some thoughts worth a read.

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If you are a Lutheran, your religion was founded by Martin Luther, an ex-monk of the Catholic Church, in the year 1517.

If you belong to the Church of England, your religion was founded by King Henry VIII in the year 1534 because the Pope would not grant him a divorce with the right to remarry.

If you are a Presbyterian, your religion was founded by John Knox in Scotland in the year 1560.

If you are a Protestant Episcopalian, your religion is an offshoot of the Church of England, founded by Samuel Seabury in the American colonies in the 17th century.

If you are a Congregationalist, your religion was originated with Robert Brown in Holland in 1582.

If you are a Roman Catholic, your church shared the same rich apostolic and doctrinal heritage as the Orthodox Church for the first thousand years of its history; since during the first millennium they were one and the same Church. Lamentably, in 1054, the Pope of Rome broke away from the other four Apostolic Patriarchates (Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem) by tampering with the original Creed of the Church and considering himself to be the universal head of the Church. Thus, your church is 950 years old.

If you are a Methodist, your religion was founded by John and Charles Wesley in England in 1774.

If you are a Unitarian, Theophilus Lindley founded your church in London in 1774.

If you are a Mormon (Latter Day Saints), Joseph Smith started your religion in Palmyra, New York, in 1829.

If you are a Baptist, you owe the tenets of your religion to John Smyth, who launched it in Amsterdam in 1606.

If you are of the Dutch Reformed Church, you recognize Michelis Jones as founder, because he originated your religion in New York in 1628.If you worship with the Salvation Army, your sect began with William Booth in London in 1865.

If you are a Christian Scientist, you look to 1879 as the year your religion was born and to Mrs. Mary Baker Eddy as its founder.

If you belong to one of the religious organizations known as “Church of the Nazarene”, “Pentecostal Gospel”, “Holiness Church”, or “Jehovah’s Witness”, your religion is one of the hundreds of new sects founded by men within the past hundred years.

If you are an ORTHODOX CHRISTIAN, your religion was founded in the year 33 by Jesus Christ, the Son of God. It has not changed since that time. Our Church is now 1,971 years old.

-- Anonymous

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A friend sent this photo expose of the birth and growth of a humming bird. It has nothing to do with Orthodoxy, per se. However, I must admit to being absolutely awed by one anytime I'm blessed to see them in action. Glory to God for all things!


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Taken from "The Cathedral Messenger" [Volume 13, Number 7], a newsletter of St George Antiochian Orthodox Christian Cathedral, Wichita, Kansas.


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In addition to the above story, and forgive me those of you on the "old calendar," today, following yesterday's feast, I consumed a tomato sandwich with salt, pepper, and Duke's mayonnaise.

Now that's redemption.

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Here's an editorial on the "I Had An Abortion" T-shirt and, God help us,"abortion pride."

For local viewers of this Blog, our Adult Class schedule -- Orthodoxy 101 -- is now posted on our parish website.

Regarding my post of July 9th on a book by Max Lucado ... yes, I did finish the book. No, I certainly can't recommend it for Orthodox. But, being fair, for many in the Protestant world, this sort of positive-mental-attitude for Jesus collection of meditations is a small form of "therapy." It's unrealistic of me to believe that, being Protestant, there's hope of proper appreciation for Mary, the Mother of God. That being said, there's a need, I've come to believe, within Orthodox America for lighter fare within an Orthodox context. Not everyone is going to become proficient in reading the Church Fathers, Vladimir Lossky, and the like.


Very interesting ... Olympics vs Orthodoxy in Athens.


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A friend of mine, Fr David Smith, has a new book out: Mary, Worthy of All Praise.

Here's Frederica Mathewes-Green's lastest: Elder Care for Jesus Aging Mother.

A Blessed Feast to ALL!
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If you could become Orthodox like a Romanian,
Experience it like a Serbian,
Be loyal to it like a Ukranian,
Sacrifice for it like a Russian,
Be proud of it like an Arab,
And enjoy it like a Greek,
What a great Faith you'd have,
Especially if in addition you got to call yourself
an American.


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Random Thoughts ...

Listening to NPR on the way home the other day ... Why is it always things like "the holy city of Najaf" ... and rarely "the holy city of Jerusalem" ... "the holy city of Rome" ... "the holy city of Sitka" ... etc?

New Jersey Governor resigns because he's gay and had an affair? Gosh, thanks to all the other news of late, that sounds so 9/10.

The Wall Street Journal ran a piece today (8/12) on the rift developing within the movement toward Russian Orthodox unity. The article states that Bishop Gabriel of Manhattan is opposed to union. However, contrary to the opinion of the WSJ reporter, in my experience those who strongly agree with that position are more likely to be zealous converts than "White Russians."

"Orthodoxy in DIXIE" still has legs ...
I wrote that article almost two years ago, while still in the Russian Church Abroad. It's funny how some things just spring forth and run ... Go Forest! Run, Forest, Run!

Almost shameless self promotion: The Orthodox Christian Radio program, Come Receive the Light, will be airing an interview with me on Saturday, August 21st. I say "almost shameless" because, having done a couple interviews with CRTL a while back, I'm not absolutely sure which one will be airing. It may be a repeat of the "Orthodoxy in DIXIE" interview. The other interview was about American Converts and their pastoral issues. I refer to that one as "One Flew Over the Onion Dome." [Apologies to the Onion Dome.]

The Feast of the Dormition (Falling Asleep) of the Mother of God is just days away for those of us on the "new calendar." Our brothers and sisters on the "old calendar" are just preparing for the Fast. Through the prayers of the Mother of God, O Lord be merciful to us and save us!

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paramour: a man’s mistress or a woman’s lover.

mistress: 1 a woman who rules others or has control, authority, or power over something; specifically, (a) a woman who is head of a household or institution; (b) a woman owner of an animal or slave. 2 a woman who has intimate relations with, and, often is supported by a man for a more or less extended period of time without being married to him; paramour.

struggle: 1 to contend or fight violently with an opponent. 2 to make great efforts or attempts; to strive; to labor; as, she struggled to overcome her prejudice.

adultery: 2 in Scripture, all manner of lewdness or unchastity; also, idolatry or apostasy.

chastity: 4 purity; unadulterated state; as, the chastity of the gospel. [Rare.]

In spiritual warfare, what we sometimes fail to realize is that struggle is good. If we are struggling -- guided by right intent and an enlightened conscience * -- we must understand that the struggle is good. However the world teaches us that struggle is bad. So, in our relationships, when we have a struggle -- without the benefit of Christ and His Church, a pure intent seeking after righteousness, and a godly conscience -- we make the wrong decisions. In time, we come to believe that the struggle is bad. Thus, every time there is a struggle, we seek either (1) to numb the struggle (through alcohol, excessive sleeping, drugs, the Internet, video games, daydreaming, movies, and other methods of escapism) instead of fighting the godly fight; or, (2) to get rid of that relationship which has, in our minds, caused us the struggle (e.g., divorce, damaged parent-child relationships, and broken friendships).

Also, in such a mobile society as ours, we don’t necessarily have to form close relationships with anyone. Thanks to the telephone, the television, and the Internet, we have multiplied and magnified our separation all the more. Were we to surround ourselves with those whom God has given us (family, friends, neighbors, etc.) we might find that the nature of the struggle would be different. That is, we tend to see ourselves in a truer light by those with whom we are in a relationship of mutual Christian love. Essentially, we should struggle as a family -- not as individuals.

And, going back to my point, the struggle is good. We must begin with that in mind. The struggle is good. If someone confesses, “I still struggle with ‘X’,” the first thing that I have to remind myself, as priest and confessor, and that which I have to counsel the penitent is this: The struggle is good. The second thing which must be remembered is: the Enemy is not very original. The devil only uses that which works. Thus, if we’ve fallen before, due to a particular passion, most likely we’ll be greatly tempted by it again. Warfare is waged. Yet, where there is no struggle, the battle is already won. Whom do you think wins when we lay down our guard? God forbid that we allow the Enemy this victory! It’s when we don’t struggle that we become complacent. We become desperate. We become depressed. We become despondent. We lose hope.

When we talk about losing hope, sometimes we think of the big hope Capital “H” hope. And some of us may say, “Well, I never lose capital ‘H’... O-P-E.” And that is the Hope that at the Last Day we shall be saved. Many people hold on to that as a “given” in their life. Then, assuming that the capital “H” hope is theirs for all eternity, little by little, they lose their salvation because they lose the small h-o-p-e-s. In other words, they surrender regarding that particular area in their spiritual struggle.

It is possible to go down the list of the Passions (Pride, Anger, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Avarice, Sloth), and, for a few, claim “I don’t have a problem with that one ... Or that one ....” And you can justify personal solace therein because there’s a couple of ways (methods) which you don’t use to your own damnation. Ha! There’s actually a couple of methods that you leave behind regarding your current spiritual state, struggle, and warfare. Then, at this state of delusion, we often do something that is really, really harmful. And that is, we look upon that particular Passion (Pride, Anger, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Avarice, or Sloth) and we surrender that area over to the enemy of our souls. We play poker. We gamble with our salvation. We take that one Passion in which we have lost hope of overcoming and we just give in to that one. And we kid ourselves that we are, at least, monogamous. We’re having a relationship with only one mistress. Or, we believe that one mistress does not constitute adultery. And, therefore, does not constitute the only way that we can be separated from the Bridegroom.

“Thou shalt have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3). This is the first commandment given by God to His people. Therefore one mistress is enough to constitute adultery. Only one paramour is necessary to damn us. And it is that one in which we have lost all hope that God can heal through our unworthy cooperation. We then live in a deluded state where we imagine ourselves in the Resurrection ... holding hands with our mistress. We can only hold hands with the Bridegroom in the Resurrection (if we are to be saved). We can have no other -- capital “S” -- spouse. “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” And there is one reason, one way, that our Lord will break off His relationship with us. That is if we remain in an adulterous relationship with Pride, Anger, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Avarice, or Sloth.

St. Basil the Great elucidates the teaching of Psalm 1 thus:

Blessed, therefore, is he who did not continue in the way of sinners but passed quickly by better reasoning to a pious way of life. For there are two ways opposed to each other, the one wide and broad, the other narrow and close ... Now, the smooth and downward sloping way has a deceptive guide, a wicked demon, who drags his followers through pleasure to destruction, but the rough and steep way has a good angel, who leads his followers through the toils of virtue to a blessed end. **

This is the essence of the Christian struggle. The smooth and downward slope and worldly pleasure is what tempted Adam and Eve in Paradise. It is the same temptation of Christ in the desert; it is our struggle.

This same theme is evident in the writings of the early Church. For example, in The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles we read:

There are two ways, one of life and one of death; but a great difference between the two ways. The way of life, then, is this First, thou shalt love God who made thee; second, thy neighbor as thyself; and all things whatsoever thou wouldst should not occur to thee, thou also to another do not do. And of these sayings the teaching is this Bless them that curse you, and pray for your enemies, and fast for them that persecute you.***

What follows is basically a compendium of Christ’s teachings -- exhorting the good. Later, comes the exhortation to eschew evil:

And the way of death is this First of all it is evil and full of curse murderers, adulteries, lusts, fornications, thefts, idolatries, magic arts, witchcraft, rapines, false witnessings, hypocrisies, double-heartedness, deceit, haughtiness, depravity, self-will, greediness, filthy talking, jealousy, over-confidence, loftiness, boastfulness; persecutors of the good, hating truth, loving a lie, not knowing a reward for righteousness, not cleaving to good nor to righteous judgment, watching not for what is good, but for that which is evil ... [Etc.] Be delivered, children, from all these. ****

How is one delivered from such temptations and trials? It is impossible for those who are fallen to walk the path of righteousness without God’s grace. This grace is freely given -- but, in our sins and disobedience, we are unfit vessels for so great a gift. We must do warfare against the mistresses, the paramours, the Passions. We must, by God’s grace, strive toward the Virtues: Humility, Patience, Chastity, Contentedness, Temperance, Liberality and Diligence. How do we do this? As with any God-pleasing act little by little, day by day, moment by moment. This is the essence of the Christian struggle. The ontological goal, of course, is the Kingdom. In the meantime, such spiritual struggle aims at achieving dispassion.+

Catherine Roth, in her introduction to St. John Chrysostom’s treatise, “On Marriage and Family,” writes:

Marriage, like monasticism, is a sign of God’s kingdom, because it begins to restore the unity of mankind (and the cosmos as a whole) which has been broken up by sin. Thus marriage is both a great mystery in itself and represents a greater mystery, the unity of redeemed mankind in Christ. ++

Monogamy and fidelity are Godlike characteristics which we are all called to imitate -- not only for the sake of others, but for our salvation in Christ the Bridegroom. This struggle is essential if we are to be found at the Marriage Feast of the Lamb.

May God grant us grace to flee our paramours, mistresses, and passions -- daily, hourly, moment by moment -- so that we may enter the Banquet clothed in a wedding garment suitable for the King. And may He be our Hope, our Love, and our God in our struggle toward Chastity until that Day.
________________________________

Notes:
Definitions paraphrased from Webster’s New Universal Unabridged Dictionary, 1979.

* - The enlightened conscience is gained in our daily warfare with the passions, our struggling toward virtue, and our relationship with Christ and His Church.

** - Joanna Manley, ed., Grace for Grace The Psalter and the Holy Fathers, (Menlo Park, California Monastery Books, 1992), 6.

*** - Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, eds., The Ante-Nicene Fathers, Volume 7, (Grand Rapids Eerdmans, 1989), 377.
**** - Ibid, 379.

+ - In ecclesiastical Greek, ‘dispassion’ means freedom from passion through being filled with the Holy Spirit of God as a fruit of divine love. It is a state of soul in which a burning love for God and men leaves no room for selfish and animal passions.

++ - Catherine P. Roth and David Anderson, trans., On Marriage and Family Life (Crestwood, NY St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1997), 10.

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August 6th, 2004: Just before waking from a nap this afternoon, I had a dream: My daughter and I were eating in a restaurant and I mentioned a concert that I’d seen in the old Charlotte Coliseum ... and it appeared, the coliseum. The scene changed. I was riding on a bus, seated beside two black ladies, and recounting the concerts I’d seen there ... Willie Nelson, Elvis, etc. Then I told them I’d seen Rick James perform there [I’d actually seen him in Greensboro]. One of the ladies said, “When I see him, Rick James, I’m gonna get on to him for leaving us like this.” I awoke from the dream, signed onto the Internet, and saw the headline ... Funk legend Rick James, dead at 56.

The following piece is another for the “Etc” column. For regular readers of this Blog, there may be some repetition. The story’s not about Rick James and it sure ain’t about Orthodoxy. Today, however, it seemed appropriate.

Funk Incognito

He closed the book, put his pen in his pocket, crossed the room, opened the cabinet, and pulled out the old stuff. He ran his hands across the large square covers, dusting off the jackets. He realized there was nothing in there that would save his soul; just funk and junk from days gone by: Cameo, Gap Band, Rick James, Parliament/Funkadelic, George Clinton. Old school. Part of him. “Tear the roof off, we gonna tear the roof off the mother, sucker ... tear the roof off the sucker ...”

It was Monday, his day off. The wife was at work; the kids were with others at the pool. He was alone for at least another hour. He always seemed to be depressed on Mondays. He figured Mondays were a letdown after the highpoint of the week. He’d once heard that it was on Monday that God separated the Heavens and the Earth. It was the only day mentioned in Genesis where it does not say, “... and it was good.” Thus, Mondays were blessed to be downers. Later he’d have to get dressed and head out. But for now, he closed the door. Locked it. Then opened another one.

Inside, the turntable was vintage 1978. Technics. Back then, state of the art; today, a classic. Except for the crack on the cover. The crack was 1980. He’d gone to sell books door-to-door with the Southwestern Book Company in Wisconsin. His stereo had stayed back in North Carolina with his younger brother. Anyone else and he’d still be angry. His thoughts snapped back to musicology as he began to wipe the album.

He remembered when cleaning an LP was an exotic ritual. It was, without being base, an act of foreplay. He no longer had the felt-covered tool and cleaning fluid. Who used them anymore? But, in his mind’s eye, he went through the motions. Foreplay with a paper towel. Not quite the same. Somehow, irreligious.

Before dropping the needle, he noticed a hum; tinkered with the ground wire, lowered the noise a bit. He looked around one last time, making sure he was alone. It began. Crackling. Even though he’d taken expert care of his albums, the LP hissed its unique introduction. Unmistakable. In these days of digital, that sound alone – snap, crackle, hiss, pop – took him back.

Back to a day when life was simpler, less controversial. Wasn’t it? The current culture seemed awash in sex and cultural wars. Didn’t it? Back then, back when, it was the Cold War. Folks did what every culture does when death’s imminent. They danced. “Boogie fever! You got to boogie down ...”

As rock-n-roll died and disco loomed, it seemed everyone entered a grey area. The line between black and white was less visible. Heck, nothing was very clear except the need to dance. The high school gymnasium would be filled to capacity following another losing football game. “Oh what a night! Late December, back in ‘63 ...” The whites would be dancing with whites; the blacks with blacks. But everyone was on the same page of music. “I, I ... I’m just a Love Machine ...” We were together but separate. Of course, the whites had kept a longing eye toward the blacks. Else how would we have ever learned the new moves? He remembered that success in that regard was not always optimum.

Before the song began he looked down and realized he didn’t want to hear that song anymore. He quickly retrieved the needle and flipped the album back into its cover. He caught his reflection in the mirror. God, he’d grown old. What had happened? When? He shook it off and fingered his way though the big crate for the right selection.

Queen, The Game. There it was again: the summer of 1980, going door-to-door selling books in the Northwoods. “Another one bites the dust ...” He’d finally escaped the South. He’d discovered that many folks in the wilds of Wisconsin were prejudiced against Native Americans. At least for a Southerner, it seemed odd. He’d actually met people who had never seen a black person except on television. On more than a few occasions, someone would comment on how prejudiced folks were in the South. These were usually the same folks who’d never seen a black man. It was like the pot calling the kettle Indian.

Earth, Wind & Fire, KISS, Aerosmith, Foghat, The Time ...

After graduating, he’d shared a house with a black roommate. The two had soon discovered that no matter how hip you were you could still be prejudiced. “Don’t stand so ... don’t stand so ... don’t stand so close to me!” In time, he’d shared all the racial jokes he knew. His roomie had actually laughed! Yet he’d found, when the tables were turned, he couldn’t understand all the white jokes told to him. Sort of like the machinations of dancing, he was too close to his own blindness to follow the steps.

Stevie Wonder, Dwight Yoakam, Rod Stewart, Heaven 17, English Beat, Third World. Ah, look at that. He pulled out the cover and read:

Love.
Make love, not war.
Speed kills.
Love.
Hell no, we won’t go.
Love. Sex.
No more war!

It was a cool cover. Full of Peace Signs, fat letters, and psychedelic graphics that characterized an era. It was the first album he’d ever bought with his own money. Five dollars back in ‘69. The soundtrack to HAIR.

He looked at the platter. He’d obviously not known how to care for an LP back then. He’d been only eight, maybe nine. Gosh. HAIR. He’d never played it unless he was alone. Bad, bad language. Some of it he hadn’t understood. But all of it had made him feel cool, older. A part of.

For the first time, 35 years later, he noticed that the record was produced by Robert Stigwood. Didn’t he do Saturday Night Fever’s soundtrack? He put HAIR down and dug through the orange crate. Fleetwood Mac, Dr Hook, Frampton, Willie Nelson ...

Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy, Elton John & Bernie Taupin. He didn’t just look at the cover, he instantly relived a whole segment of adolescence through its art. He entered a world of fantasy. But it was the most real world imaginable back in 1975. He could see, smell, and feel the power of the past. He and Benny, 1974 ... 73 ... “I hope ya don’t mind ... I hope ya don’t mind ... that I put down in words, how wonderful life is while you’re in the world.”

They were into Elton John. They knew all the lyrics. Sang them out loud. Sure, they knew he was queer. What of it? They worshiped him. “Some punk with a shotgun ... killed young Danny Baily ...” He’d even gotten into arguments with his mother about Elton being greater than Elvis. His mother, a child of the 50's, would have none of it.

Truth be told, even now, he still boasted of having seen the King in concert: 1972, before Elvis got fat. Their seats had been behind the stage before stages were round. Still, Elvis made sure to pay attention to those behind him. At the age of eleven, his main memory was how odd it was for Elvis to sing and gyrate about lust only to end his concert with a few Gospel songs – as if Jesus was okay with all that. “Then sings my soul ... my Saviour God, to thee ... how great Thou art ...”

Memories. His first sermon at the age of twelve. It was Youth Sunday at Mission Baptist Church. He was the designated youth preacher. In his sermon, he compared Elton John with God, lamenting how the former was more famous than the latter. He’d said that if there had been a sign out in front of the church advertising that Elton John would be there, the place would have been packed! Appreciating the fact, at least assuming it, that God was present, he’d indicated the empty seats. He remembers how aggravated he was a couple years later when, on Youth Sunday, the pastor had asked him for an advanced copy of his sermon before allowing him to preach.

Then there was Benny Starnes. He could still hear his mom saying, when Benny had been allowed coveted liberties, “Well, I ain’t Benny Starnes’ mother!” He and Benny were inseparable until about the ninth grade. Benny lived across from a cemetery. They’d spent many a night there, walking among the dead, singing Elton John, Captain & Tennille, Chicago, and the like. Yet high school brought new thoughts, new things, new adventures. Namely, at least for him, girls. The bump. Slow dancing. French kissing. Acne. Longing. “Points of her own, standing way up high ...”

Benny had made a bold and tragic fashion statement in high school. He wore one of those Starsky & Hutch sweaters. He never dated. People made fun of him. Called him “Sweater.” They kidded Benny about his perfectly quaffed hair.

He looked back down at Captain Fantastic bursting from his bubble, piano in tow. “So hard to write a song with bitter fingers ...” He flipped the cover over and saw the Brown Dirt Cowboy – Benny Starnes? – sealed in his bubble. Everyone later learned, Benny was gay.

He placed Elton back in the rota and fingered up to the sepia toned cover of Running on Empty, Jackson Browne. He thought of Steve Davis, his best friend in high school. Steve loved this album, Jackson Browne. It was Steve who’d told him of Browne’s writing a previous hit, The Pretender, after his wife’s death. That fact alone had helped him appreciate the artist through the years. Funny how death had a way of making some folks famous. He could still hear Steve singing Billy Joel: “Only the good die young!” Steve died in a boating accident ten years ago. Steve wasn’t famous, but he would have said, “One out of two ain’t bad.”

Average White Band. Oh my! The album cover sported the initials, A W B, with the drawing of a woman’s ample derriere substituting for the W. His mother hadn’t wanted him to buy it for that very reason. She was not Benny Starnes’ mother, but she relented. It was 1974 and, being a white guy, he felt blessed to find a bunch of ‘em playing funky music. That year at the beach, in one of those “design your own t-shirt” shops, he’d gotten another wish: A red fishnet shirt with the initials – Latin W, mind you – emblazoned on the front. He’d only worn it for a season. Whenever he did, folks picked on him. He thought it was cool. He now knew it was stupid.

Speaking of looking stupid, there it was: John Travolta on the cover. He flipped it over and saw the initials RSO. Yep, produced by Robert Stigwood. How could the same guy who produced HAIR have transitioned to Disco? Disco led to the fall of Rome. Disco made the Episcopal Church go bonkers. Disco killed Elvis. Disco made others dizzy enough to see Elvis pumping gas. Nuns discarding the habit? Disco. Political correctness? Disco. Goddess worship? Disco. Blue M & M’s? Disco.

He stared at Saturday Night Fever’s cover and for the first time he noticed that the cover featured four white guys: Barry, Maurice, and Robin Gibb, along with Travolta. Though there were a few blacks on the back, Tavares & Yvonne Elliman, the pictures inside the cover are all of white folks dancing. Whites borrowing from, and trying to be like, blacks. He laughed at himself. Wasn’t that what started this whole memory trip? A middle-aged white man hoping to play a little funk on the ol’ Victrola before the wife and kids came home?

He was looking for Prince’s album, Controversy. The title song’s refrain: Am I black or white? Am I straight or Gay? Controversy! He couldn’t find it. He went to the spare closet where he’d piled hundreds of platters in hopes of an eventual E-Bay fortune.

There! Controversy. The cover advertized newspaper headlines:

Love Thy Neighbor
Annie Christian Sentenced to Die
President Signs Gun Control Act
Do You Believe in God?

He noticed that each photo of The Controversy Daily featured the same article: Instant weather reports make trip planning easy.

He reached inside the cover to pull out the inner sleeve. The free poster, featuring a thong-clad Prince in the shower by a crucifix, had long since disappeared. O my God! The inner jacket was from an old KISS album and the LP inside was a scratched up copy of a Willie Nelson record. Now that’s weird! What’s that all about? The earworms sang in chaos:

“The red headed stranger from Blue Rock, Montana, rode into town one day ...”

transitioned to ...

“I’m the king of the nighttime world ... and you’re ... my ...
midnight queen ...”

to ...

“It was the time of the Preacher ... in the year of ‘01 ...”

till finally, from memory ...

I just can't believe all the things people say - Controversy
Am I black or white? Am I straight or gay? - Controversy
Do I believe in God? Do I believe in me? - Controversy

I can't understand human curiosity - Controversy
Was it good for you? Was I what you wanted me to be? - Controversy
Do you get high? Does your daddy cry? - Controversy

Do I believe in God? Do I believe in me?
Some people wanna die so they can be free
(I said) Life is just a game, we're all just the same ...
do you wanna play?

The final headline, pictured above the bottom of the album’s cover, simply said, The Second Coming. He looked at the clock. Too late. They’d all be home soon. He put the albums back in their respective covers and shelved his memories. He pulled his pen out of the pocket of his black shirt, right below the white clerical collar, re-opened his Bible, and once again thought about the coming Sunday’s sermon.

“Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk ...”

Right back where he’d started from.

Ow!
____________________________________________________________
Song lyrics in order of appearance:
Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off), Parliament, 1976.
Boogie Fever, The Sylvers, 1976.
December, 1963 (Oh What a Night), The Four Seasons, 1976.
Love Machine (Part 1), The Miracles, 1976.
Another One Bites the Dust, Queen, 1980.
Don’t Stand So Close to Me, The Police, 1981.
Your Song, Elton John, 1971.
The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-34), Elton John, 1973.
How Great Thou Art, Elvis Presley, 1968.
Mainstreet, Bob Seger, 1977.
Bitter Fingers, Elton John, 1975.
Only the Good Die Young, Billy Joel, 1977.
Blue Rock Montana / Red Headed Stranger, Willie Nelson, 1975.
King of the Nighttime World, KISS, 1976.
The Time of the Preacher, Willie Nelson, 1975.
Controversy, Prince, 1981.
Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off), Parliament, 1976.
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YOU KNOW YOU'RE SOUTHERN ORTHODOX WHEN:

10) At Pentecost, your church is decorated with Kudzu.

9) You spell "feast" with only three letters: B B Q.

8) You say "Father," "Barsonuphios," and "Monastery" without any pronouncing an "r."

7) You drive 3 hours to an Orthodox Church. But, could hop ... on one foot ... with your eyes closed ... (and a rock in your shoe) ... to the nearest Baptist Church.

6) All your services are all in English -- at least that's what YOU call it.

5) There's women in your church known as: Photini Beth, Thecla Beth, and Elizabeth Beth.

4) There's men going by: Athanasius Lee, Euphrosynos Lee, and Vasiliy Lee.

3) You got white folks, black folks -- even Democrats -- in your parish, but no Russians, Serbians, Arabs or Greeks.

2) You know someone who knows someone who knows someone with a velvet picture of Elvis celebrating the Last Supper.

AND ... the number one sign that you are an Orthodox Southerner:


1) You think grits are too good to be considered fasting!

(copyright 2000 - Fr Joseph Huneycutt)

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Warning: The following article is secular. It has nothing to do with Orthodoxy. It was, however, the impetus for the Orthodoxy in DIXIE article. (File it under the "Etc" column.)

What a hoot! All the mud-slinging that surrounded the Confederate battle flag atop the Statehouse in Columbia, South Carolina, got me thinking: Why is it that we didn’t hear the middle class native Southern voices within that forensic roar? Perhaps the answer lies buried under the Southern accent. Mind you, I speak not of blue-blood Southerners, but of the majority of the native South, the lower and middle class natives.

I was reared in a small town near Charlotte, North Carolina. Growing up, I never met a Jew, much less a Muslim. Lutherans were rare enough in my hometown, much less Roman Catholics. Basically, we were Baptists and Methodists, blacks and whites. With bussing, my school was 51% black. I remember being bullied on the first grade playground, daily, by two black boys. We laughed about it in high school. Save one occasion, I don’t recall the prevalence of any Confederate flag, battle or otherwise, from my youth.

But I do know what it means to be a Southerner. I know what it means to be prejudiced. Yet I will have to provide greater detail before you can judge me in that regard. You see, I grew up in the 60’s & 70’s. My folks were cotton mill workers. I know what it means to long to leave the South. I also know what it means to feel blessed to come home.

My folks rarely went shopping on Saturday. That was the day that all the blacks shopped in our hometown. We would drive through the venerable old business buildings on our way to the lake. Sure nuf, town was teaming with darker skins. My dad said they all knew each other. It sure looked like it -- they waved, smiled, greeted and visited with each other. In reality, I suspect they were just growing up black in the South. Looked to me like white folks did the same, down at the lake on Saturdays.

In my youth, I always believed my dad was prejudiced against blacks. Like many Southern white men, that’s the way he talked. Upon getting a part-time job in the mill, I was shocked to observe his interactions with colored folks. It was downright good natured and friendly! They all seemed to love each other. It was more than a bit confusing. Although I spoke the language, I’d not yet acquired the accent. I longed to leave.

While studying genetics in high school biology, we learned that if one had a black ancestor the biological evidence might not show up till as much as a hundred years later. (I’ve no idea if this is true, but the teacher said it was possible.) After dinner that night, I tested my dad. Relating the details from the class, I asked him what he’d do if mom gave birth to a black baby. Again, I was surprised. He said, “I’d love that child ... care for him ... give him everything I have. I’d kill your Mama, though. Ain’t no way she could convince me that that happened a hundred years ago.” We laughed. I’m positive he later told that story to his black friends at work. No offense taken, it was all in the accent.

As rock-n-roll died and disco loomed, we entered a grey area. The line between black and white was less visible. Heck, nothing was very clear except the need to dance. The high school gymnasium would be filled to capacity following another losing football game. The whites would be dancing with the whites; the blacks with the blacks. But we were on the same page of music. We were together but separate. Of course, the whites kept a longing eye toward the blacks. Else how would we ever learn the new dance moves? (I must point out that success in this regard was not always optimum.)

With disco came new battles. Blacks and whites were found mingling more and more. The overwhelming majority of music was being sung and performed by black artists. Frustrated dancers (aka white boys) were spending tons of money on black music. White deejays could make the dark crowd move. Truth be known, we all probably became too accepting in those early naive days of disco. It was a time of overwhelming change. For a while, we were all speaking the same language. Well, almost all. There were the rebels one might see at the County Fair or the Carowinds theme park. These wore black tee shirts with white letters “Disco Sucks.” These folks, I always imagined, were probably the same ones who paraded the Confederate battle flag with hatred. They obviously couldn’t dance (to the beat of any drummer).

I thought I hated the South. Television shows such as “The Dukes of Hazard,” “The Beverly Hillbillies," even “Andy Griffith” allowed me to observe the way, apparently, the outside world saw us. I wanted no part of it. This, coupled with my perceived parental prejudices, drew me more and more toward black folks and “outsiders” (e.g., Roman Catholics and Yankees). I had an uncle who lived in Secaucus, New Jersey. Every now and then, we’d visit him and tour New York City. Ah, away from the South! My only confusion lie in the fact that prejudices seemed to abound up north! Ours seemed tame by comparison.

Needless to say, due to the times and my liberal education, I never gave much thought to the Confederate flag. Never owned one, much less argued over one. Except, that one occasion. You see, our high school had a “race riot” every year. It was an annual observance. There was tension, some fisticuffs, racial slurs ... then it was over. No one ever seemed in agreement as to the catalyst of this yearly event. Except in 1978. That was the year that, apparently, some ol’ redneck had climbed up onto the water tower and put up the Confederate battle flag. That was the most confusing “race riot” of all. This was, after all, during the heyday of disco. We were all dancing to the same beat (except for the small “Disco Sucks” contingent). We thought we’d put all that racial stuff to rest. Suddenly, that flag -- to the indoctrinated black kids -- represented the worst side of all whites. To us, their rage at the water tower display washed away the disco lovefest. Gosh, we were different after all. If memory serves me, that was the year that all the white students were called into the auditorium, with the blacks being segregated to the gym. I don’t remember what was said. I do remember the blacks were allowed to go home early. In a few days, it was all a footnote; a footnote to our Southern accent.

The summer of my freshman year of college, the Southwestern Book Company sent me to sell books door-to-door in the Northwoods of Wisconsin. I had finally escaped the South. Though I loved Wisconsin, the accent was much different there. Many were prejudiced against the Indians (aka Native Americans). In fact, I actually met people who had never seen a black person except on television! The friendly folks of Northern Wisconsin got a kick out of the way I talked. They said they could listen to me for hours. On more than a few occasions, someone would comment on how prejudiced we all were in the South. These were usually the same folks who’d never seen a black man. It was like the pot calling the kettle Indian.

After graduating, I shared a house with a black roommate. Finally, I had arrived! Well, not really. He and I soon discovered that no matter how “hip” you are, you can still be prejudiced. I shared with him all the racial jokes I knew. He actually laughed! I couldn’t understand the white jokes he shared with me. Sort of like the machinations of dancing, I suppose. I was too close to my own blindness to follow the steps.

These days, when I go back home, my Mom or Dad is always relating greetings from some black acquaintance with whom they spoke recently at the store. (Everyone shops on Saturdays now. I’ve even seen blacks at the lake.) At least the grapevine I’ve known still carries racially prejudiced humour. Heck, black comedians have it down to a fine art; Jeff Foxworthy makes us all laugh. Catching a glimpse of an old “Andy Griffith” presents no struggle as in days past. Face it, we’ve all been through a lot.

But my point in saying all of this is that, I don’t appreciate the talking heads of the major media getting involved in stirring up trouble in the South. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect that one of them climbed above the South Carolina Statehouse and planted that flag for their own selfish reasons. Rather, it had been flying there since nearly the day I was born. It never seemed to be a Southern issue. In fact, I’m not convinced it is now.

A few years ago I performed a wedding in Columbia. There were blacks and whites in attendance. We were within eyesight of the flag. And, yes, being a Southern town in the summer, there was what we used to call “disco music” blaring in the distance. The following morning, my family toured downtown Columbia. We saw more blacks than whites (it was Monday, mind you). And there, above the Capitol building was the Confederate battle flag. It was, more than likely, hoisted to third rank prominence by a black State employee. Pouring out of the Statehouse was several bus loads of children, mostly black. Thanks to the media and political indoctrination of the times, I was in search of disgruntled, unhappy, protesting faces. I saw none. Yet, on the way home, I saw a few cars with the bumper sticker “Take It Down.” These people seemed opposite -- but similar -- to the “Disco Sucks” crowd. Both were angry; both minorities.

Those of us who’ve learned to make do with past and present differences know that everything is not black and white. Rather, it’s about being separate and together, together. It comes with experience, absent an outside agenda. Why, just the other day, I saw a black man driving around in a pickup truck with a Confederate flag decal. Those of you not from around here just wouldn’t understand. Frankly, my dear outsiders, it’s a Southern thing. In the working-man South, among native blacks and whites, it’s a confederacy of accent.
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