Theology Sings, Song Prays, and Prayer Theologizes.

For the last few years, I have been feeling God gently nudging me away from the way I've seen my Christianity.

When I was very young, I was very literal in my approach to my religion, and I rather think that is the product of an eager spirit coupled with a rather limited mindset.

As I grew up and began to encounter new ideas and expand my horizons, I began to abandon my literalism, but something else stuck to me, which is the idea that I need to always have a set of formulas about what I believe, those formulas changed over time, shifted and sometimes were replaced... but they always were in the shape of formulas, and lately I've begun to move away from that as well.

You see, formulas allow you to clearly describe what you're thinking of, however they can never fully capture it. A process of simplification must take place when making a statement of creed, to stress the point (as you see it) of a certain belief and strip away the less important things. Which is okay, since formulations of belief usually have a specific purpose (apologetics, for example).

And although that is important in many instances, it cannot be the way we think of our religion in general, because sometimes the less important things are, well... quite important as well!

For example, the way St. Athanasius described the Incarnation was very good, but it was especially good because it fitted the purpose at hand, which was to argue against the Arians. What details St. Athanasius may have left out about the reasons and mechanics of the Incarnation because they weren't in question by the Arians, those same details may in some other situation prove very useful.

And another thing, it's not only that simplification loses some details, it also loses the undertones of some our Scripture and Tradition. There are many ideas that haven't reached the level of clarity of a "detail" in almost every piece of Scripture, but are more like whispers or subtle motions towards something inexplicit in that same piece of Scripture. And that doesn't make those ideas any less important, but it does mean that they must be conveyed in a way other than a simple statement or a rigid definition.

I suppose this is why it is said that "Theology sings", that some of our most profound spiritual revelations may best be described in song. Some Coptic Hymns are a great example of a "singing theology", another example is Iconography.

That idea completed a cycle that had been open and disconnected to me. I knew why we insert our theology in our prayers and how we pray in our songs, but couldn't understand how theological study should use song. Now I see that proper theology should make use of but not be limited to philosophy, and it must rise above rigid formulations.

It must sing and paint and use every form of art and literature... Because to express our relationship with Christ, we'll need to use everything we've got.

So, this is to remind myself to approach theology with the imaginative and transcendent heart of a poet, to sing with the fervent and modest heart of a monk, and to pray with the inquisitive and meticulous heart of a theologian.

Sympathy for the President

For quite some time, I've been trying to write about Empathy or Compassion (I understand both things to be tied to each other), but I have consistently failed to say anything particularly intelligent about the subject.

Today however, I saw this photograph, and the subject just forced itself back to my attention.

(Photo is courtesy of AlMasry-AlYoum website)


Here is this sick man sitting in a hospital listening to his doctors, and he happens to be the Egyptian President.
To some he may be a national leader, to others he may be a cold-blooded tyrant, but in all cases there is the undeniable fact that he is also a sick, old man in a hospital.

The photo can't conceal the fact that the hospital looks like everything our hospitals in Egypt aren't, and neither can it conceal the fact that the president looks very well taken care of, but it also can't conceal the fact that the man looks old, sick and weak.

And to many people (or to me, at least) this photo is infinitely sad.

It may natural I suppose, because the idea that even this man, who has been ruling a country for 29 years and counting; the idea that he is NOT above the human condition, NOT immune to the frailness of old age (as his PR staff would like us to think), and NOT beyond sickness and death; that idea is quite sad.

And despite this idea being well known to us all as a basic fact, that photo still manages to strike me, and I cannot help but feel an overwhelming pity for that man dressed in pajamas and a robe, thousands of miles away from home, listening to doctors talking in a foreign language about his "condition".

I really cannot help but identify with him, and all my feelings towards what he's done or didn't do -although still upheld and maintained- kind of take a collective step aside, and let sympathy go through.

And quite miraculously, I find myself thinking: May God's love be with you, always.

(On another rather unrelated note, I am hereby denying my awareness of any pun related to a Rolling Stones song title that may be inferred from the title of this post!)

Here's To You

Here's to your quiet, starless sky; here's to that silent song.

Here's to your young.

Here's to your empty streets at 6 AM, and to your penetrating cold.

Here's to your old.

Here's to your rusty lamp posts, and every weathered, worn-out wall.

Here's to us all.

Here's to your accidental beauty... may it be forgiven you.

And may we be forgiven, too.