dougfloyd, Author at Pilgrim Notes

Author: dougfloyd (page 1 of 65)

Enlightenment

March 19, 2020 / dougfloyd / 1 Comment

As I walk around my house, I see intimations of spring. While some blooms are opening wide, most prick the landscape with hints of a color to come. From far away, the dogwoods look dead and empty. Up close, I see the edge of a glory soon to come. Last fall, I cut back four rose bushes that I had allowed to grow without trimming over several years. These bushes had lost all shape, and I considered digging them up. Instead, I tried cutting them almost to the ground with the hopes they might start life again. Today, as I walked to the mailbox, I saw these stubs full of tiny leaves and ready to explode again.

I am always learning how to see.

I tend toward distraction or even abstraction. I easily lose my eyes to see the vital world alive all around me. Sometimes, some days, the grace of God awakens me afresh to wonder of being alive. “At the back of our brains, so to speak, there was a forgotten blaze or burst of astonishment at our own existence,” writes G.K. Chesterton. “The object of the artistic and spiritual life was to dig for the submerged sunrise of wonder, so that a man sitting in his chair might suddenly understand that he was actually alive and be happy.”

In one sense, Lent helps us to see and hear the wonder of being alive afresh. It is a time of restriction that prepares for a time of expansion. Consider the Van Gogh painting “The Potato Eaters.”

The Potato Eaters, Vincent Van Gogh (April-May 1885)

He restricts the subject to a small meal of potatoes and coffee. He restricts the brilliant colors found in his other painting. He restricts light. We gaze upon a darkened room with a small family sharing a small meal. Through restricting various elements, Van Gogh focuses our attention and in so doing, expands our ability to see. This tiny, insignificant moments opens up our eyes and hearts to simple intimacy, shared communion. The faces convey a certain kindness, a gentle love.

Lent also restricts, also focuses the mind and heart upon the way of the cross, upon the path toward faith. In one sense, Lent is a time of returning to the beginning of our faith. It is a return to baptism. The early church baptized new converts at Easter vigil. In preparation, the converts went through a season of catechism, of training in the way of Christian faith.

Yesterday, the church remembered St. Cyril of Jerusalem. This church father is specifically remembered for his catechesis. Jaroslav Pelikan says that catechism was so popular that many who had already been baptized would attend the training throughout the season leading up to Easter. In this sense, the whole church returned to the beginning of faith.[1] The church was relearning the way of Christ, the way of faith, the grace and mercy of God.

This year, the whole world has been immersed in a place of restriction. The coronavirus has limited travel, impacted our economy, reduced our social connection. In this place of restriction, our hearts could open wide to the gift of God in Christ. We might learn to see and hear and speak in new ways. Though we face the same level of unknowing, we also face the possibility of knowing again, of seeing again, of hearing again.

Joseph Ratzinger says that baptism was also known as “enlightenment.” “When, in the baptismal liturgy,” he writes, “the sign of the cross is given to the person being baptized, the following words are pronounced: “I sign you with the sign of the cross, that you may know that Jesus loves you.—I mark your eyes with the sign of the cross, that you may see what Jesus does.—I mark your ears with the sign of the cross, that you may hear what Jesus says.—I mark your mouth with the sign of the cross, that you may reply to Jesus’ call.—I mark your hands with the sign of the cross, that you may do good as Jesus does.”^[2]

May this be a time of moving toward enlightenment, toward the source of all life and hope. In our imposed and chosen restrictions, may we turn and trust the goodness of God again. May we learn to enjoy the small gifts of breath, of sleep, of spouse, of children. May we actually see the world near us with new eyes and in so doing, behold the grace of God that sustains creation moment by moment, day by day, year by year.

[1] See Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, Vol. 1: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600) (Volume 1), University of Chicago (1975).

^[2] Joseph Ratzinger and Peter Seewald, God and the World: Believing and Living in Our Time: A Conversation with Peter Seewald, trans. Henry Taylor (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2002), 398–399.

The World is on Edge

March 12, 2020 / dougfloyd / 3 Comments

In the first moments of the gray morning, I see tiny pink blossoms just beginning to burst into bloom. The world is on edge.

The trees in my backyard stand silhouetted against the dim light sky. I look up, seeing darkness and hints of beauty. The sky rings out with morning songs of birds near and far. The world is on edge.

Some family stands around the bedside of a long-loved father slipping away from this life. Another family learns of a transplant for the suffering son. The world is on edge.

Fear and joy all collide in the turning of this day, in the turning of each day.

Though ever-present fears loom large in the air and the heart, the wonder of breath continues.

I lift my voice with the birds who have chosen to welcome the day with songs of exaltation. I stand at the edge of a world with untold glories.

Advent – Into the Light

December 12, 2014 / dougfloyd / 1 Comment

“I don’t know what to do!” cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the same breath…I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as a drunken man.”

After Scrooge awakes from his night with the ghosts, he is overjoyed to be alive and greets the day with laughter and merry-making. He steps out of the dark and into the light. During Advent, we rehearse the hope of stepping out of the dark and into the light. We are reminded, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light” (Ephesians 5:8). Continue reading

Remembering Home

October 7, 2014 / dougfloyd / 2 Comments

Sabbath is like remembering home.

image courtesy of Thomas Hawk (via Creative Commons)

Singsong voices ringing in the air. Running through the house, out the back yard and circling round again. Burnt leaves lining the sides of the streets. Aromas of autumn float in the air. Rolling pastries to the hum of Christmas songs. Family and friends crowded around the dinner table. Long stories. Loud laughter. Drooping eyelids.

Longing for an innocence, a wonder, a place before.

Abraham Joshua Heschel tells the story of a prince sent away from his home, his father. He wanders the world alone, longing for his Father’s love and approval. One day a messenger arrives outside the lodging of the prince and announces, “Prepare to come home.” Filled with joy, the prince runs through the village and into the local tavern. “Food and drinks for all. Today is a day of great joy for I’ve heard the call to come home.” Heschel says that Sabbath is a day of great joy for we are going home to see the Father. Continue reading

August 11, 2014

“If we are not able to rest one day a week, we are taking ourselves far too seriously.” – Marva Dawn

Discerning Spiritual Experiences

July 14, 2014 / dougfloyd / 1 Comment

“…faith is understood as the encounter of the whole person with God. And it is precisely the whole man that God desires to have before him. He wants for his Word the response of the whole man. God wants man not only with his intellect (which would, in any case, have to be sacrificed to a truth which is not self-evident), but, from the outset, also with his will; he wants man not only with his soul, but also and equally with his body.” (Hans Urs Von Balthasar, Glory of the Lord, Volume 1, p. 213)

Living faith is not simply mental consent to a set of propositions about God and man. Von Balthasar reminds us that we participate in this living faith with our whole and undivided person. Spiritual experience encompasses our whole life and may overwhelm us in ways we had not expected. Continue reading

Living in the Ordinary

We rise to the ordinary, the predictable, the mundane. We move through a pattern of daily repetitions: wake, shower, dress, eat, and go. Somewhere. Life is so utterly predictable.

If traumas don’t kill us, something odd happens. We keep living, breathing, existing. Peter denied Christ then woke the next day. Living in the present is so difficult because it is so ordinary. We dream of future possibilities or glorify past excitements while breathing in this ordinary present moment.

Thomas Merton once cautioned the would-be contemplative that prayer quickly becomes boring and repetitious, routine. The ordinary predictability of inhaling and exhaling becomes a weight that some cannot bear. They grow weary.

One way to respond to this utter predictability is to seek out crisis, to create crisis. Oddly, even wanderlust can grow tiresome. Crisis loses the edge of surprise over time. Reflecting on the horror of the trenches in World War 1, Eugen Rosenstock Huessy said that most of the time it was boring.

We may look at other people and dream of what could have been. In fact, some try to recreate could-have-beens. The man or woman who has an affair soon discover the malaise overtaking the newness. Binx Boling called my attention to the malaise.

In Walker Percy’s “The Moviegoer,” Binx Boling is a man who has the good life. The life we all dream about. He is financially successful, comes from a secure family, enjoys the best culture has to offer, and spends his time watching movies and dating beautiful women. Binx also seems to be caught in a struggle. He feels the malaise at the back of all things, but at the same time, he is startled and surprised by existence.

Being alive is wondrous and dreadful. Why are we here? What are we supposed to be doing? What will it take to give our lives signification? Is it praise from others? Some recognition for all our dedication, all we’ve suffered, all we have given? Are we really yearning unlimited wealth? Some spiritual power? Lots and lots of stuff?

Why doesn’t any answer satisfy?

At times, the idea of eternal life can be horrifying. “You mean we just keep living and living and living?” This terror of never-ending life may be bound us in the terror of the ordinary, in the anguish of why?

The suffering of loneliness and sickness and broken relations may hide the suffering of being alive. We are caught between the wonder and the terror of existence. We know so little and feel even less.

For those who do not know the malaise, these words will make little sense. For those who do, you might hear a distant echo of anguish the trembles deep in the soul. My intention is not to solve our human dilemma in 500 words or less.

I am looking for clues. I am looking at the Risen Christ, and hopefully through the Risen Christ. In Him, I see life lived fully, completely. I behold love poured out with no restriction. All things were made, shaped, formed, properly ordered through the Son, the Word Made Flesh. In Him, I see the wondrous order of all creation.

Order? There is an order, a shape, a form to all creation. Without order, all form is but a momentary illusion.

The word “ordinary” derives from order. Our ordinary world, our ordinary moments are ordered.

In Christ, I see a glimpse of this order. His life is poured out fully in love: every moment from birth through death. In His resurrection, I behold the unrestricted reciprocation of the Father’s love by the Spirit.

In Him, I live and move and breathe. I breathe. I inhale and exhale. Each moment ordered by exhaling, inhaling: pouring out, filling up. In my very breath, I see but a tiny pattern of reciprocal life revealed in Christ. Within this wonderful and terrible existence, I breathe, we breathe. The wonder of reciprocation, of giving and receiving, of loving and being loved is enacted all around me in the sun and moon, man and woman, trees and bees. All creation echoes a reciprocation of life, a mutuality of giving and receiving.

Mostly I am deaf and blind to this magnificent symphony of love, this order of love. Some times, the blind will see. The light of Christ pierces my eyes. In this ordinary moment, I behold love unspeakable and full of glory.

* Image by Thomas Leuthard on flickr. (Used by Creative Commons Permission)

Knowledge as Call and Response

April 23, 2013 / dougfloyd / 1 Comment

Last week, I wrote about “Bearing Witness” and described a range of witnesses that inform our knowing: personal experience, the experience of others, the world around us, and the Triune God. I’d like to explore these further but from a different angle. I want to think about knowing through the lens of Torah. As a reminder, Torah means the instruction of the Lord (see Proverbs 1:1-17). It also refers to the first five books of the Bible (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy). Additionally, it refers to all of Scripture and to the teaching within the community of God’s people.

If I take Torah on it’s own terms, what might I discover in it about ways of human knowing? Let me briefly think “out loud” about that question. This is a quick list of ideas and is limited to my initial process of discovery. But it might help others think “out loud” with me.

Genesis, which literally means “beginning” opens the canon of instruction with a focus on the beginning of language, the beginning of the cosmos, the beginning of humans, the beginning of corruption in humans, and the beginning of family. Actually, there are many more stories of beginning in Genesis, but this gets us started. In Genesis, Torah places value upon knowing our beginning. Like the head of a spring, this beginning opens ideas that keep developing all throughout Scripture. Here are some of aspects of knowing that stand out to me:

a. Knowledge is formed in the midst of the world. The first words of Genesis point to God creating the heavens and the earth. Humans are created within this world. So we are live in the midst of the world we come to know. We learn within the limitations of time and space.

b. Knowledge points beyond the world. God creates man in his image and likeness. Though humans are created within the world, something about us images someone beyond the world. As images of God, we carry a sense of knowing something more than we know, something beyond. This knowing might be connected with the idea of “call and response.” The Lord calls us into being, and we respond.

c. Knowledge of creation is trustworthy. This story of origins differs with many creation stories in that the world is created intentionally , is good, and is created by the word of God. In other words, there is no “cosmic stuff” that preceded creation. The stars are created as stars. So a human can know them as stars as opposed to some illusion or shadow. Creation is not allegory, but material and real and particular.

d. Knowledge develops in discovery. In Genesis 1 and 2, we see the possibility for humans to grow in knowledge and for creation to develop and be discovered. Adam is called upon to name the animals. He observes, discovers and categorizes them by names. The animals have a specific reality outside his naming and yet, somehow his naming, his discovering points to something real about the animals. Additionally, as man engages the animals, he discovers something about himself: he is alone.

e. Knowledge and language are bound up together. God speaks creation. Language is not introduced as a development of man but as God’s mode of creating and communicating with man. Speaking and hearing become the primary way of knowing that develops all through Torah.

e. Knowledge develops in relationship. God creates a second human as a pair for Adam. Now Adam names the other human, but he also sings to her.* While words are at the heart of his knowing, Genesis points to a knowing beyond words. So learning in relation is rooted in language but also develops physically on multiple levels at once.

f. Knowledge has limits. In Genesis 2, man is free to discover all creation, but he is not to eat the fruit of one tree. This limitation indicates that he cannot know the tree by taste, by consuming it. In Genesis 3, Adam and Eve are seduced by serpent to eat the fruit. While the source of evil is not explained, we discover the impact of this knowledge corrupts other knowledge causing a breach between Adam and God as well as Adam and Eve.

g. Knowledge is corrupted at some level. The violation of Genesis 3 introduces the problem of knowledge that breaks relation which in turn corrupts knowing between persons. This type of knowledge ends in death: Cain kills Abel. This corrupting knowledge is not limited to an abstract idea level but is material, so it sows corruption at all levels of creation, leading the destruction of the world in the flood.

h. There is a connection between knowledge and love. Just as the corrupt knowledge separates and violates relational knowledge at some level, there is a knowledge that reverse this corruption. Deuteronomy will connect knowing Torah with loving God and man. In some sense, true knowing leads is expressed in love.

i. Knowledge is founded and shaped in family. In Genesis and throughout Torah, genealogies form a key aspect of instruction. Additionally, Deuteronomy instructs the parents to teach the children in a way that seems to echo the Lord instructing his people. Thus, the family is a fundamental place of knowing. This has a range of implications, but should always remind us of our need to learn from those around us. Family knowing seems to contrast with the knowing that splits family and moves toward isolation.

j. Knowledge is revealed. Just as humans learn in relation and by discovering the world around them, Torah also shows knowledge coming from outside the world. God speaks to Israel from Mt. Sinai. God speaks to Abraham, Izaak, Jacob and Joseph in dreams and encounters. This revealed knowledge appears to be like a parent correcting the child, clarifying, reordering, and leading the child forward. This type of knowing at times seems to look like letting go of our understanding. Abraham has to follow without knowing exactly where he is going. This knowing is a knowing rooted in trust. In Torah, this knowing is not against the knowing by discovery but does challenge the corrupting knowledge the separates, enslaves, destroys.

k. Knowledge is rehearsed through active remembering. Israel remembers the Word by enfleshing it in obedience. If Israel forgets the Word, she falls back into the corrupting, oppressing, destroying knowledge.

l. Knowledge flows from and forms the whole person. Knowledge cannot be isolated from the emotions, the body, and the community. Torah uses the language of heart as the center of the person and in some ways representative of the whole person. If the heart or the very essence of the person is corrupted, this shapes his words, actions, memories, and feeling. Ultimately, Torah points toward the hope of the Lord writing His Wisdom, His Knowledge, His vital life into the very heart of person.

* – This is if we except Genesis 2:23 as a song.

Image by Massimo Valiani on Flickr. Used by permission via Creative Commons.

Faith – The Absurd Step Worth Taking

April 18, 2013 / dougfloyd / 2 Comments

Today, I have a guest post from my brother Jeremy Floyd, offering a thoughtful reflection on the place where we stand in this confusing world of non-stop change.

This weekend I left town for a short trip, and during those quiet moments of in-betweenness I had time to try to process something that is probably one of the hardest issues of parenthood that I’ve encountered. My oldest daughter who is precious and innocent to me will turn 11 in a little over a month. With each passing day, she is shedding the scales of innocence of her youth, and I’m not ready to go through the labor of the loss of innocence. Not yet.

More than anything, I don’t want to say goodbye to that tender little girl that taught me as much about parenting as I have taught about life. Our children are tender and precious, and the last thing that we want to do is take away any part of that. While she is about to step into a torrent of fascination and intrigue, I hope that innocence can be gently exchanged for just enough experience to avoid naivety. Our experience tells us that the bell cannot be unrung; the seen cannot be unseen; and the hurt can’t be stopped, but my hopes are likely futile.

As a culture, the last twelve years have felt tumultuous, painful, and downright scary. The innocence of our society has been ripped from our minds and replaced with images of fear and terror. While we preach resolve and resiliency, our eyes have witnessed horror that cannot be unseen. Our hearts have experienced suffering for those that we likely don’t know, yet we mourn for them as they are our own. There is no way to preserve our own innocence.

Preserving innocence in an exposed world creates absurd results:

Take the military policy of “Don’t ask. Don’t tell.” This policy suggested that homosexuality was not condoned by the military, yet one could be a homosexual as long as they were secretive about it, which essentially was no change in the previous policy other than a few legal caveats.
Or if one is truly innocent and childlike in an exposed world they look like a clown. When I joked with my daughter that I wanted her to stay in fifth grade forever, she said, “Dad, I would be like ELF.” She was specifically talking about how disproportionate it is for an adult to sit at a child’s desk, but the analogy fit well. Will Farrell’s character was entirely innocent in an exposed world, and as a result he looked like a buffoon.

We face the same conundrum that I face with my daughter, I do not want her to be naive in this world because I do not want her to be hurt, yet I don’t want her to experience this world because I don’t want her to hurt. Our longing is for another place where we can believe and not be chided. In literature, we would call this Utopia or Nowhere, but there is a natural longing for a place where the paradox of innocence and exposure may coexist without the being absurd, naive or skeptical.

If we were to plot this out on an axis, we would have innocence and exposure on one axis and skepticism and naivety on the other. In this life, we move towards exposure and skepticism is a natural byproduct. If we do not move towards exposure then we move towards naivety.

So, as I am pondering these thoughts this morning, I read the following verse: “So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, ‘If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.’” John 8:31, 32 Jesus is the living paradox of innocence and experience. The polarity of innocence was broken on the cross, and his crucifixion provided a pathway to live both in the world with the innocence of faith and the experience of life.

A few years ago Doug taught about ERH’s symbolic and actual use of the cross. The cross is significant historically, culturally, politically and socially. It is the pivot point of the universe, and it is the reconciliation of paradox. At the center of the cross is Jesus–Son of man, Spirit of God and God the Father– who died and lived eternally, was sinless yet died for sin, was man yet God and was innocent yet had all of the knowledge of the universe. At the center of the cross was inexplicable paradox.

How would you logically answer this equation 1 + 1 = 3? “1” must not equal 1 or “3” must equal 2 or some information that is outside the equation must come to bear. In other words, there must be a truth greater than our conventional understanding of mathematics. As a side note, what if I said that 1 = 1 and 1+1=10 see Deut. 32:30. In the trinity is a great variable that is greater than our logic and deeper than our understanding. Looking back to the John verse, abiding in truth may be the answer to my conundrum about my daughter and about our country.

So essentially what I’m saying is that faith in God is the only way to preserve my little girl as she steps into the brave new world, and faith is the only way to witness terrorist tragedies and go about our lives with the genuine belief that life is good, secure and predictable. This, however, is just another absurd result.

Faith in an unseen God is absurd. Faith is illogical, yet logic was the second crucifixion. Faith is a leap into an unknown abyss where our map and compass are promises. Faith is the unknown variable to life–not a utopian life of heaven, but to this life. Faith is the bridge that intersects innocence, experience, skepticism and naivety. Faith is the most absurd step worth taking.

* Image of cross by Zonie_Zambonie on flickr (Used via Creative Commons permission)

Bearing Witness

April 17, 2013 / dougfloyd / 1 Comment

“And you shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.” (Deuteronomy 5:20)

I remember growing up in churches where the old preacher would pause on the midst of his sermon, intoning “Can I get a witness?” Shouts would rise from the congregation and echo across the ceiling. “Preach it brother!” “Truth!” “Amen!” “Glory!” The robust call and response between preacher and audience taps into a deeply biblical rhythm of bearing witness.

The prohibition in the ninth commandment is based on the possibility of bearing true witness. Torah talks about this phrase as a legal speech-act:

“Only on the evidence of two witnesses or of three witnesses shall a charge be established.” (Deuteronomy 19:15).

If someone is accused of a crime, it requires two or three people to establish a charge. In the case of a capital crime, these people must act out their accusation by literally throwing the first stone. To bear false witness is a serious act because it could mean killing someone on the basis of deception. The Stoning of Soraya M.: A True Story tells the horrific story of an entire village bearing false witness against a woman by stoning her to death. If a person is exposed for bearing false witness, they must bear the penalty that related to the specific accusation.

True Witness is not simply a legal action, but is at the heart of all knowledge. We know what we know based on some form of witness. There are a range of witnesses to knowledge including personal experience, the experience of others, the world around us, and the Triune God. For now, I simply want to mention each of these categories. I’ll discuss them in more depth later.

Personal Experience – Each person develops personal knowledge of the world as a whole person. We hear, see, smell, taste and touch the world around us. We think, feel, talk, and engage the world around us. The mystery of our own consciousness is a witness.

Other People – Even as we are immersed into the world we are perceiving, we interact with our people who witness in word and act. From experts telling us to exercise, to our wives telling us to buy more bread, we rely on the witness of other humans to live in this world. This witness can be face to face discussion but it can also be text: witness recorded. This implies some form of text. As humans we rely primarily on language, but witness can also be recorded in pictures, music, buildings and more.

The World – While only humans offer us an articulate voice we can understand, all creation is witnessing at some level. This might be called a passive witness. While the tree may not communicate in a common language, I can learn from watching the tree. I must adapt and the let the tree reveal itself to me “so to speak.” This is not some form of mystic application to creation rather it is the discipline of letting go of my assumptions about what I am observing and learning how to observe it. More on this later.

The Triune God – We encounter this unseen witness through the witnesses above and in a distinctive breaking in as “inner witness.” As a Christian, I would consider this a fundamental witness, but it is also the most challenging because it is not bound by the world. In one sense, the world includes ourselves, other people and the world around us. The Triune witness of Father, Son and Spirit is not contained by the world and may seem to be invisible in the world.

Each of categories require more space to discuss, so I’ll spend more time on that in the future. For now, I’ll simply suggest that witness as knowing may help us to see how knowledge requires some form of trust, relationship, engagement, and adaptation. Since some form of witness is so primary to knowing, false witness threatens to unravel all knowing.

* Image by thebristolkid on Flickr (used by permission via Creative Commons)

Pilgrim Notes

Reflections along the way.