Pithless Thoughts

Drowning Worms

2009-07-13T17:45:00.006-07:00

My oldest son and I got up at 5am, loaded up the fishing poles and headed up to Payson to go fishing with my dad. Dad said, "Oh, be here around 7:30, we'll go grab some breakfast then go to the lake." It wasn't about "fishing" if you hit the lake around ten in the morning and don't take the boat.

When we arrived the truck was out of the garage, the extra poles, tackle box, two white styrofoam cups of worms and bottled water were all loaded in the back of the pickup and he met us on the front porch...he'd probably been sitting at the window watching the street.

The whole day was a quintessential "Dad" excursion. We left the house and went to "Tiny's" a mom and pop diner for breakfast. He knew the owners, that they were Greek, how many kids they had, yakked with the cashier about her new baby. When we went to the lake he greeted strangers as if he knew them all their life. "Any luck?" "Nothing for the last couple hours..." But we were there to fish, so we hiked in anyway...

We fished from shore for about an hour. It was just as the guy said in the parking lot, no bites.

So we left the lake and hiked back to the parking lot. We stopped about half way so Dad could catch his breath. The slight incline was too much after three triple and quadruple bypass operations. He drove us around "his neighborhood", the dirt roads of the Mogollon Rim. As we travelled around the back roads he told stories about his scout troop and how the Park Ranger Jim would let him and his scout troop camp anywhere they wanted to, even in the "no camping" areas around the lake. He knew who owned the old ranches and built this and that cabin. He mentioned my brother a few times (who died a drug addict about 6 years ago), the places along the way they hunted and camped together. We stopped at another lake and tried there for about an hour...and again succeeded in drowning a few more worms. Then, we travelled some more back roads and came out in Heber by the post office. We went to "Red's" for lunch there, and he talked to the cook about the chili he'd been watching him making.

We took the highway back to the house and while we sipped iced tea he dozed off in his recliner. When we left he loaded us up with a bag of zuchinni and crook neck squash from his garden. We didn't catch any fish, but I got a hug and a glad smile from my dad. A bad day fishing with your dad is better than a good day blogging.

Going Fishing

2009-07-06T07:38:00.002-07:00

To all who left comments on "Past, Present, Future"...thank you for your support and love. I'm humbled beyond words.

As you've noticed, I'm still doing the blog, and I'll probably keep it up since it isn't much work and its how my friends and kids keep up with me (unlike Facebook etc. I don't have to turn down "friends" and have the temptation to check out everyone else's "books".) Its all the other internet stuff that sucks the hours up.

I called my dad this weekend and told him I'm coming up next Monday with my oldest son and we're going fishing. (The lakes in Northern Arizona are a zoo on the weekends, we'll be heading up when everyone is coming home and we'll have the lake to ourselves.) He was happy. I'll be posting pictures.

The wifey arrived home last night and I could tell she was a bit shocked that the house was clean. Yay, men!

She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain...

2009-07-04T13:36:00.011-07:00

The wifey has been at St. John's Monastery for the last week and a half, and got to be there for their feast day where MP Jonah and Bp. Benjamin celebrated with them and tonsured a few monks and installed Fr. Meletios Webber as the new Abbott of the monastery. (I stayed home because I couldn't afford to miss ANY work at this point.)

So, she'll be home tomorrow night. I have about ten days of bachelorhood I need to hide within the next 24 hours. You'd think after 35 years of marriage (not in a row...) I'd pretty much know what her eyes (and nose) will go to like a ball bearing to a magnet as she walks in to the house through the garage door. OK.

Laundry room...get the pile down below the timber line. ("No honey, that's not snow on top of the pile, those are the whites.") Check.

Garbage can...empty the evidence. Five Oscar Mayer hot dog packages, three Lay's Barbeque potato chip bags, two Captain Crunch boxes, two pork and bean cans, one Spam can, ten bacon packages...a lot of beer bottles. Put in new liner, add empty oatmeal box, banana and orange peels, corn husks with "Organically Grown" label showing, 12 Grain Bread wrapper, fat free turkey lunch meat package, empty skim milk carton. Check.

Kitchen...dump bacon grease out of frying pan, boil some oatmeal, remove half, leave it conspicuously on the stove, power wash stove (ummm...no honey, its clean...I bought us a new brown stove while you were gone!) find belt sander in shed to clean countertops, look for sink...googled it, "its under the pile of dishes usually", walk on floor in loose flip flops to see where it sticks the worst, acid wash floor. Check.

Fridge...remove all the green stuff, replace with lettuce, zuchinni and bell peppers, take out beer, replace with 2% milk carton and organic pomegranate juice bottle...pour half out into sink first...throw away pizza, replace with pita bread and hummus, set mouse trap for the stuff that keeps moving around. Check.

Dining room...find table, googled it...I think I see a pattern developing. hmmm...I didn't know we had 37 glasses, 19 coffee cups, 43 forks, 17 knives, 28 plates and 23 assorted pieces of Tupperware. I think all the mail will fit in a lawn and leaf bag. hmmm...maybe I should move my compressor, the lawn mower, the tool box, and screw gun off it too. Check.

Living room...make sure bird and dog are still alive. Clean bird cage...how can a 4 inch bird manufacture six inches of crap...especially when it only gets fed once a week? Rake up dog hair. Check.

Bedroom...wash sheets. (What's wrong, honey...YOUR side is clean, just like you left it!) Remove beer bottles, Fritos bags, bean dip and sardine cans from nightstands. Light vanilla scented candle, let burn for 24 hours. Check.

Bathroom...find blowtorch and sandpaper, clean sink and...hmmm...call plumber to replace toilet. Find some flexible towels and washcloths to put up. Check.

Well... "Welcome home, sweetie! Nah, no problems...everything was great, I did just fine...."

Past, Present, Future

2009-07-01T22:37:00.004-07:00

You'd never guess it, but in reality I'm somewhat of a closet recluse. I don't like crowds of people, parties, new places, new faces, big gatherings, large tables with lots of people sitting at them, conferences, meetings and events. But I have the gift of gab from my Dad and from an early age people told me I'm good at being in front of an audience, (though I wouldn't go out of my way to try to get there), and when I became a protestant Christian at age 17, I discovered I had the gift of teaching. So, to not "bury my talent", I do it if asked. I admit once I'm there I can and do have some fun, so its not torture, but it is exhausting.

This year marks 40 years of being pretty "public" as a Christian in various situations, roles and ministries (even though 37 of them have been as a layman), and 50 years of serious pursuit of God and concious desire to serve Him. I hadn't really thought of it until I wrote this sentence, but 40 (or 50) years is well... a lot of wandering around in front of a lot of people.

My recent trip to St. John's Monastery gave me a lot of time to reflect. Actually, I always have time to reflect, it was just a different landscape and routine which sometimes we need to jolt us out of our familiar ways of doing things that connect to familiar ways of thinking of things which connect to familiar ways of seeing things which connects to continuing to do the familiar things in a familiar way. The series of podcasts I did seemed to take on a life of their own as an extended rumination about life and death. It's not the first time I've thought about death. Death has been a constant underlying stream in my conciousness since I can remember, but it just seemed to bubble to the surface. I've known I'm mortal for a long time, so its not that kind of awakening. I know I'm much closer to my death than I am to my birth at this point in my life.

One of the questions "discussion starters" like to ask is, "What would you change about your life if you knew you only had a year left to live?" (or some variation). In my mind the shallow answers have always been the self indulgent ones: take a cruise, sky dive, have an affair with a bimbo (or gigolo), or even go to Africa and dig wells in the Sahara for the poor. That too is a self indulgent fantasy. The unfulfilled dream, the unrealized false image of my magnanimous self, the egoistic self created image of myself I never had the time or motivation or will to do anything about because deep down we know we're lying to ourselves, its not real. The problem with discussion starters is our answers are still a fantasy and still tied to our current delusions about our selves. But that's another whole discussion...

Anyway, for about 49 years I thought I was supposed to be a priest. It started in first grade at St. William's where I went to a Catholic Parochial elementary school and served Mass as an altar boy every morning with Fr. Wiley for three years. The desire continued through my detours through protestantism, Episcopalianism and into Orthodoxy (though I have the canonical impediment of a divorce prior to Orthodoxy that can be pastorally overlooked if a Bishop decides to do so.) I became Orthodox with little hope of being ordained or ever getting to teach in any public setting due to the clerical nature of the Church. But, without me pursuing it but mysteriously being in the right places and meeting the right people, I've been able to have a lay teaching ministry beyond any wild fantasy I could have ever conjured up even as a Protestant teacher. I know it is a blessing from God.

Because of my wanderings and meeting so many people, over the ten years I've been Orthodox, I've been put before five bishops by laymen, priests, bishops, abbotts and abbesses for ordination, and denied by all for various reasons (not all related specifically to anything about me or my divorce). I saw a pattern developing... I've been told which Bishops in which jurisdictions ordain divorced men, I've been told to move to Greece and spend "x" months at "x" monastery and "x" elder would see that I got ordained...yada yada yada. But I won't play that game.

The last couple years I've been more and more convicted (that's a good protestant term), that I in fact would make a lousy priest and my desire for the priesthood has been a lifelong delusion reinforced by the unwitting affirmation of my public "spiritual persona" by even some very holy (and sometimes goofy) people over the years.

Recently, an old friend I've known for about 25 years who journeyed into Orthodoxy with me, graduated from seminary, moved back here and got a position with a large parish in town. He read me his "job description". I listened, and when he finished, I told him I have no desire to do any of that stuff. Finally, the coffin of "full time ministry" and ordination to the priesthood was nailed shut,(or so I think...I know better than to predict the future.) The realization that I have actually been doing for forty years what I really love and have a gift for truly sank in.

But that isn't the point.

I had dinner with my wife a two weeks ago and told her I've been feeling like I need to disappear. Or in another sense, to re-appear. I need to disappear from the internet and reappear to my family, my aging parents, my kids, and yes, my wife and even my dog. The last couple times I visited my parents (who live about 90 minutes from my house) my Dad has said, "Come up some time and let's go fishing." He's had 3 bypass operations. He's 80. I haven't been fishing with him in over 30 years, because my weekends and down times in construction have always been spent in church activities. I've thought lately, some night I'll be producing a podcast and I'll get a call from my mom... My wife said, yes, that is the good.

The evening we had that discussion over a Chinese dinner, I came home to a couple of emails from podcast listeners..."Your podcasts have helped me so much" etc. The following week I got more "fan" email than I get in a month. Even though I know Orthodoxy on the internet will go on just fine without me adding anything more to it, and my websites and podcasts will still be available, and I will still answer email, I began to waver.

My wife is at St. John's Monastery for their feast day. I stayed home because I had work scheduled and I can't afford to miss a day of work now. I emailed her and told her I was reconsidering. She wrote back tonight (in part):

"Here is my honest reaction: You have such a powerful influence on us all. I don't know if you realize how important you are to your family. You've spent a long time helping the world, and it's been good. I think it would be nothing but positive for you to focus on your Dad and Mom while they're still here...and for you to get a little rest , write a book if you want, and just "be", even if it's just for a few years. Really, that's my heart on the subject. It's not like you've squandered the gifts that you've been given, my Precious. We've all shared you with the world for a long time."

I've always told new converts who are looking for a "clairvoyant elder" to tell them their sins to just ask their wife or family to be honest with them. I think I've been told, and by my saintly wife who has never complained about my ministerial wanderings (one might note that she never mentioned "more time with her" in her response).

So, I have a lot of work to do in the next few weeks. Things to wrap up and close down and leave to others. I need to do some internet things in order to make them self perpetuating (the OLiC website will be redesigned to be more user friendly for new people, but no new content added in the forseeable future). With one click, the delete button will take care of all the bookmarks and links to everything I spend hours a week checking in on. Hopefully in a few weeks I'll be fishing with my dad and sitting on the back porch holding my wife's hand watching the sunset and maybe even praying a little bit more instead of producing podcasts in the basement catacomb studio, reading, studying, moderating discussion lists and commenting on blogs etc.

That said, I'll stick around until I get all this in place and then probably do a final podcast about this decision before I close it all down. I will probably keep my blog since it is the only way my kids and friends know what is going on in my life (I won't do Facebook).

Pray for me. This is a hard decision.

Is There Any Limit?

2009-06-30T18:46:00.003-07:00

What is the outer limit of the human mind? What do we trade out for being "normal"? Would you trade "normalcy" for a gift? Is this just God "messing with us" to keep us guessing? They call them "idiot savants". Well... They tell me I'm halfway there.

H/T to Sophocles

A Prayer

2009-06-29T21:54:00.002-07:00

When I was a Protestant I did this song and changed the words to "Holy Father". Now that I'm Orthodox, I'd keep the words but now I can't play it... One of the best Clapton songs and solos of all time.

Work

2009-06-26T07:54:00.003-07:00

Work hurts, physically, emotionally and spiritually sometimes. Why do men often feel like a "paycheck"? Listen HERE.

All Dogs Go to Heaven

2009-06-22T19:37:00.006-07:00

I knew it was inevitable even when we let the veterinarian talk us out of it. I lived with Duke, she didn't. "He was fine with our male staff", she said, "I think that is a good sign he is trainable." Yes, he was fine with people who deal with skittish animals for a living. I see him with people who are afraid of large barking dogs. I see him lunge at people who he perceives as invading our home. I see him cower and growl at people who live here. But we hoped against hope. We talked to the trainer. She said six home visits and we'd still have to board him if we ever had our grandkids visit, just to be safe. (What about other people's kids? I thought.) I scoured the internet for "Dog Whisperer" tips and tricks. Abused dogs who fear bite are basically incurable, even with the best help a re-trained dog can never be fully trusted. Don't give them to a shelter and pass your problem on to someone else, they all said.

Today we took Duke back to the vet. The one we first saw refused to do the euthanasia. Another one did it for us. He told us of a childhood friend who had half her face bitten off by a Saint Bernard because she reached for its bone. He said this is the hardest decision to make with a pet, but the right one. We thanked him.

I sat on the floor with Duke, my arm around him. He licked my hand as I petted him. I remembered the first year after we brought him home from the dog pound. He would not come near me. Every inch he got closer over the months was a victory of trust, love, gentleness and patience with him. It almost brought me to tears the day he jumped up on the couch with me, laid his head in my lap and let me pet him as he dozed off.

Today he was in a strange place. His tail was down, between his legs. His head was down and his back haunches quivered. He hung close to us. I got down on the floor and he came up and sat next to me. I was his comforter, not his feared abuser. I put my arm around him and scratched behind his ears as the vet inserted the needle with a sedative into his front leg. Duke looked up at me then slumped down and laid his head in my lap. The vet inserted the next needle. As I petted him, Duke went to sleep.

We took him home and buried him. I read Psalm 103/4. "O that sinners would be consumed from the earth and that the wicked be no more". O that the person who beat this dog would be consumed. O that the sorrow and anger I have at the fallen cosmos be consumed by the love of God. O that the damage I have done in this world be consumed by forgiveness and mercy. O that all things will be well, O that all will be well.

Rest in peace, Dukie. Be at peace. Some day, all of us will be well. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. Even in dogs.

(A podcast here)

Monasticism or Marriage?

2009-06-18T20:00:00.004-07:00

What happens when a married man spends 3 weeks at a monastery? Sometimes delusions set in. Who is more holy, the monk or the wife (or her husband?) Listen HERE.

Africa

2009-06-18T16:37:00.003-07:00

A Slovenian Acappella Choir replicates an African thunderstorm and reinvents Toto's hit song. At least watch the first two minutes. Very cool!
(If you like the "vocal instrumentals" and want to see how the Orthodox Church (and the churches of Christ) could do "acappella praise bands" watch THIS amazing group.)

Duke Gets a Stay of Execution

2009-06-15T18:14:00.003-07:00

We had an appointment today to have Duke euthanized. We couldn't do it earlier because we found out there is a required ten day rabies quarantine waiting period after a dog bites someone. This morning Duke and I shared his "Last Breakfast". I sat on the back porch with him and fed him the crusts from my peanutbutter toast.
While I spent time with Duke and contemplated life and death, Psalm 103 and whether animals go to heaven, my wife finished digging his grave in our pet cemetery in the corner of our yard.
We took him to the vet and Kristi asked us if we'd be willing to look at other options. She knew of a dog rescue that takes biters and difficult dogs but because they are hard to place the shelter didn't have any openings at this time. While we waited for an opening, in the meantime the vet was willing to send a dog behavioral therapist to our house for two free sessions to evaluate Duke for his potential for rehabilitation. She said the trainer would be honest about whether he needed to be put down or not. So, we came home with our dog, and a little hope that the fallen world perhaps has not yet claimed another life.

Man as Meat

2009-06-11T21:46:00.005-07:00

The deserts of Nevada were filled with death, they are also filled with sex for sale. Sex and death are at the core of the human struggle with isolation and the death of union. At the edge of the desolate parking lot of the "Playmate Ranch" was a row of yellow flowers. No matter how far from God we run, no matter how desolate and dry our existence is, there is always a sign of Life. Visit a whore house with me HERE.

Silent Monks Sing Hallelujah Chorus

2009-06-07T22:32:00.003-07:00

How do monks under a vow of silence perform one of the most glorious hymns in church history?

Our Life in Christ Sighting

2009-06-07T17:30:00.003-07:00

Someone snapped this picture this morning. I think seeing me and Bill together is almost as rare as an Elvis sighting these days. Last month Bill and I thought we could get together and start recording some new programs for Our Life in Christ (after a 6 month hiatus). But "as usual", it turned out I got the short notice call to go to St. John's and he went on a business trip, and the day I returned he left for a week for a family reunion. I'm heading back up to St. John's Monastery in a couple weeks for a retreat, to record some more interviews with Abbott Meletios (I have a couple I'm producing for broadcast from my last trip), and to work on the insulation on one of the guest houses.

Anyway, this is proof that we're still alive and feeling guilty for not putting up anything new lately. We're old and gray and tired, but we're planning a reunion tour soon. Stay tuned.

We Have Icons!

2009-06-06T21:16:00.011-07:00

We finally got our icons (printed on canvas, museum quality ink) and they are every bit as beautiful as advertised. The Platytera is 4 feet by 6 feet, and the Pantocrator is five feet in diameter. We had to take one of the chains off the chandelier and tie it up aside then set up a scaffold for the Pantocrator installation.

A good friend I've worked with for years is an expert wallpaper installer (designers fly him to New York to hang 300.00 a yard silk hand printed wallpaper...yeah). He donated his time to us.
It was a tricky install because the ink is water soluble and even sweat from your hands will smudge it. We had to be extremely careful to not get wallpaper paste on our fingers, or sweat while we handled the icons. (The next time we'll seal them first before installing them rather than afterwards.)

This is Terry trimming the Pantocrator border and finding the 90 degree positions. We dropped a plumb bob from the top of the dome and measured 4 directions to be sure we had the true center, then snapped chalk lines and ran a framing square to get the 12 and 3 o'clock positions on the ceiling. We had an interesting discussion about the nature of the Incarnation while he was prepping the Platytera.

This is the installation of the Pantocrator, it took 3 of us to position it so the 90 degree noon and three o'clock marks on the icon matched our marks on the top of the dome, and then a couple trips up and down the scaffold to make sure it looked right before he did the final smoothing. Sometimes what "IS" right doesn't "LOOK" right.

This is Seraphim, our resident chandelier expert. It took three of us, two ladders and 50 feet of rope to do the removal and now the reinstall.
This is a view of both icons from the back of the nave.
This is the Platytera over the altar.

And the Pantocrator with the chandelier back in place. We'll probably do some kind of border and gold leafing around the icon and the bottom edge of the dome later.

How Could This Happen?

2009-06-05T18:44:00.002-07:00

This is a news story today from my city, Mesa. Mesa is known as a conservative community, it has a Mormon Temple and probably more Mormon Churches and other Churches per square mile than any place else in Arizona. So, how does something like THIS happen here?

Has our culture, even in a city with a pervasive presence of "Christians", really come to a place that the influence and impact of Christianity (in the loosest definition of the term) is unfelt and unconsidered in such a fundamental decision regarding the definition of a human being?

Lord have mercy on us all.

Slots, Sin, Church and Death

2009-06-05T06:37:00.003-07:00

As I was driving through Las Vegas on my way to St. John's Monastery, I saw two billboards, one for a new casino and one for a new church. Both were saying the same thing. Listen HERE.

Dog Ruminations

2009-06-04T22:04:00.002-07:00

I sat at supper late tonight. Wifie was conducting choir practice. I made ribs, mashed potatoes with carmelized onions and garlic, and corn on the cob. Duke is licking my elbow, panting with his crazed anticipation of a bone as usual. I hug his neck and scratch behind his ears and hand off the bone. I know I am handing him his last meals. He takes it as a sign of love. He runs outside with it, I hear the flapping of the dog door. He is dog happy. I feel like I am betraying him.

In the back yard the sprinkler is running to soften the ground in the corner where all of our dogs, cats, mice, hamsters and fish are buried. Sixteen years of pets. Some time in the next couple days I will dig Duke's grave. He lays on the grass in the yard gnawing his bone, oblivious to the meaning of the sprinkler running at ten o'clock at night.

The last dogs we buried were old. They lived out their days and had strokes or some calamitous seizure and euthanasia was a merciful end. They lived long with us and we could not imagine life without them, but the fallen order and death separates not just human beings, but human beings and all creation, including our animals. Like Adam, we named our animal and called him "Duke" when we got him from the Dog Pound, and he learned his new name. But even with a new name it did not renew his nature; he is a victim of the fallen order and the alienation of creation and humanity, and it will result in death that not even love can overcome in this fallen cosmic order.

Can dogs repent? I don't know. I know they can learn. I also know they can "feel guilty". But Rahab showed more "guilt" slinking off the couch when we came home than Duke does for biting a friend of the family. His nature and nurture are too overpowering, he cannot but bite and defend some dog boundary that we cannot unravel. The fallen order forces us to choose between a loyal part of the family and the safety and wellbeing of future strangers, friends or family who may come into our home. It is not a choice we were intended to have to make, either for dogs or human beings. But we do. And it is hard. And it hurts like hell whether it is a dog or a husband, a brother, a wife, a friend or an employee.

So for a couple more nights I will pet my dog. I will let him lick my elbow at the supper table to get my attention. I will feed him table scraps. I will enjoy the annoyance. Soon I will miss it.

Duke the Fallen Dog

2009-06-03T21:23:00.003-07:00

Tonight is a sad night.

Duke is one of our "No More Dogs Dogs" after we had to euthanize Rahab.

Duke has lived with us for over three years now. It became obvious after we adopted him that he was severely beaten as a puppy. After three years he still barks at me when I enter the house and, depending on what I'm wearing and how I stand, will growl at me, and cower and run out the dog door in my presence. But he has gotten to the point that, in certain circumstances, he will also sit in my lap and lick my hand and nuzzle me. Every sign of dog affection has been a landmark event with him.

Today he bit one of our friends (that he had met very recently and was fine with) and we had to take her to Urgent Care. Its not the first time he's nipped at someone recently. It seems in the process of getting "well" he's become less fearful of strangers and even people he's met before that he fears for some reason. I have to believe he means well, if I can project human reasoning on a dog.

I tend to go the second, third and fourth mile with people. I know we are all broken. I know human beings do strange and sometimes aggressive things because they have been broken.

But tonight, my wife and I have decided we need to put Duke down. We have too many people in our house, including children. As much as we love Duke, he is dangerous. If we take him to the pound and disclose his history, they'll "destroy" him anyway. So, in the next day or two, we'll take him to the vet and we'll be the last human beings he'll see... two human beings who didn't beat him, and cared enough to make his last breath among people a painless one.

I hate what was done to him that made him fearful and aggressive. I hate the person who beat him and broke him. I hate what was done to that person that made him beat a dog. I hate that he is a dog and is only being a damaged dog. I hate that I have to make this decision.

Tomorrow after work, I'll dig his grave in our pet cemetery.

Damn it. He's my dog.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig

2009-05-31T09:27:00.010-07:00

I'm heading back to "civilization". I've been through the literal desert. I've visited the spiritual desert. I'm going home through the metaphorical desert where technology, concrete, noise and the work of man's hands are, for the most part a self-created distraction from the inner desert.

Our human connections are through wires and digitized words and images...
Our journeys are traveled in isolation from one another, and at 75 miles an hour....to where, and for what purpose?
The gods of consumption and distraction keep watch over their wares...
and they increase their temples and the people say, "Amen!"
while inconvenient human beings starve at the doors of our churches of cheap instant gratification.

Is it all ungodly? No. It is the inescapable reality of the fallen world. The monks are wired and wireless. They use electricity. They use the internet and cell phones. They drive cars on highways and buy clothing and groceries and building supplies at the malls and in the cities. Even the "subsistence farmer" relies on commerce. But we do well to remember that it was Cain, exiled from his family for murdering his brother, who built the first city east of Eden and his offspring created "civilization", musical instruments, ironwork and commerce. At its roots the city is a place founded on and nurtures division, isolation, distraction and futility. But, like Cain and his sons, it is not beyond redemption. Like the literal desert it can become the icon of our death set before us and if one can attend to the heart and enter silence, His voice can be heard and we can see Christ, even here.

Video Tour of St. John Monastery Church

2009-05-29T08:55:00.001-07:00

Death Valley and the Image of God

2009-05-28T07:42:00.004-07:00

What does the desolate desert of Death Valley and the human being have in common?
Listen HERE

St. John's Dogs

2009-05-27T16:48:00.001-07:00

At the ringing of the bells, no matter where on the property the dogs are they come RUNNING to the porch and....

Panorama View

2009-05-26T20:27:00.005-07:00

I tried Canon's "Photo Stitch" and it worked pretty well, even though it had to curve the space a little. (Click this one for a slight enlargement).

This is standing at the altar and looking back toward the entry. The arched entry is just below the "keystone" looking panel in the center of the picture. The dormer window on the right is in the wing where the chanters will be standing. The scaffolding and heavy equipment are out now so tomorrow I'm going to do a video tour and put it up on youtube. Stay tuned.

The contractor brought in a one man lift so I could paint the windows...

and patch the hole at the very top of the dome and finish spraying the paint in the peak. Originally he told me I could get a 12 foot ladder and put it on top of the scaffold and if I stood on the top rung I could reach the peak of the dome. I told him the Church is dedicated to St. John, not Barnum and Bailey... I needed a lift. It only took about fifteen minutes to quick set plaster the patch and spray it, but I'm alive to blog about it.
As of an hour ago, 16 days straight of 11-12 hour days, I'm officially done and the flooring starts tomorrow, on schedule and in enough time to finish the building by the consecration on June 9 with MP Jonah and Bp. Benjamin.

Tomorrow I clean tools, reload the truck and look at a couple other future projects and hopefully get some interview time with Fr. Meletios before I head home.

Euclid's Dream-Angles R Us

2009-05-25T19:45:00.015-07:00

We basically finished painting today. Now that it is all one color the geometry "pops". It's all the angles in the universe in one place.

Standing in the center of the nave and looking up toward the altar.
Standing just inside the entry looking up and right. (The tiny bit of arch in the lower right is the entry from the narthex into the nave.)
Standing in the center and looking back toward the entry up into the left corner. (The arch in the lower left is the entrance from the narthex into the nave.)

This is the detail at the top of the columns.
Standing in the center and looking left into the chanters wing dormer.
Standing in the center and looking up and left into the dome.
Standing in the center and looking up and left again, a little lower.
Standing in the center and looking back toward the entry and to the right. (The arch at the bottom again is from the narthex.)

When they got the drawings back from the conceptual artist he said "You wanted ANGELS on the ceiling? I thought you wrote ANGLES!" Note to self on Abbott Meletios' desk: Don't let monks who can't spell write proposals.