Why speak out?


Why not just let things be, bide your time, hope that nature takes it course, and keep under the radar? It would, perhaps, be the prudent thing to do. After all, who are you? Nobody really in the larger scheme of things.  Why should you think what you have to say is even important? Well the truth is the words may, in fact, be totally  unimportant but the saying of them could be.

It took me almost 40 years to find Orthodoxy and enter her embrace. What came before was valuable, important, and Christian but I remember quite clearly being at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Minneapolis, weeping during the Liturgy as the waves of chant flowed over me. I remember, as well,  asking the Priest who brought us into the Faith to make sure that if something bad happened to me before our training was done that he would chrismate me before they pulled the tubes. I remember kneeling, the mission we came into Orthodoxy with was Western Rite, and receiving the precious gifts after months without and the joy of arriving home.

Ten years and two ordinations later I still love this Faith. I’ve never grown tired of it. I’ve never lost the feeling of utter awe standing at the altar and my soul has never been at such rest. Its from the love, from that awe, that I try to speak my few clumsy words. Because of what Orthodoxy is, because of what I expect it to be, I want better for it. When there is chaos. When there is pain. When things don’t seem right.  There’s a place deep within that feels that passivity is abandonment. I wouldn’t leave my family in turmoil without trying to do something, anything to help.  For the same reason I write when I see my Church in its predicaments.

I suppose its always possible that what I write and say could make it worse. Yet if I’m clumsy its the clumsy that comes from loving something so much that I run the risk of overstepping my bounds for the sake of it.  I don’t want to see Bishops at discord. I don’t want to see Priest’s in fear. I don’t want to see people who trust us in a place where they are unsure. I hate how I feel sometimes. I hoped for better when I crossed the Church’s door and I’m holding out not just for going along to get along but for that better I believe I was promised, the better that comes with being the Church and the Faith.

Some time ago I saw a bumper sticker that said “Speak, even if your voice shakes” and so I will. I’m no troublemaker, just a person who by God’s grace found the home I sought in this Church, a person who never forgot the joy of it all, and a person who wants it back.

The rest is in God’s hands.

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