Desperately seeking silence

It is difficult to find a silent place in the modern world. And on those days when one is really seeking silence in order to have some peace, it's even harder. My garden is about the only place that is unspoiled by noise, and the minute I enter it, my stress level goes to zero. Even when I go to mass these days, I can never find a quiet one, like the ones I used to attend with my mother on weekdays when I visited her. They were held in the chapel off the side of the main altar of the church, and they were small, silent, and peaceful. Just a mass without the frills. I find I neither need nor do I like the frills anymore. I just want to go to mass and find some peace of mind. I want the quiet in order to reflect--on life, on suffering, on sickness, on life's meaning. I need to do that; I need to find the time to reflect in order to understand what is going on in my life and in the lives of others. But I am not allowed that. I cannot find one mass at my church that is quiet, straightforward, and without frills. They are often long drawn-out affairs, with pre-mass processions, a lot of incense holder waving, a lot of (off-key) singing of modern songs that hold no meaning for me. I miss the old standard hymns (sung by a real choir), the ones I grew up with (like Praise to the Lord), the ones my mother and I liked and sometimes teared-up over (On Eagle's Wings). I miss ordinary masses, celebrated by a priest who appreciated silence and the absence of continual activity. There are now masses in multiple languages (Norwegian, English, Vietnamese, Tagalog, French, Spanish, Polish) at my church in Oslo; more power to them--I am sure the different cultures appreciate this effort by the church. But I wonder why there cannot be just one mass for those of us who would appreciate some silence in between the traditional celebration of the mass.

Sometimes I feel like I am desperately seeking silence. It's hard to find. When I reflect upon my need for silence, I realize that it is born of a lifetime of talking to work colleagues (having to interact in order to get things done), of sharing an office with others, of holding lectures, of attending meetings, of watching TV, of listening to the radio, of having to interact with the world the minute I wake up (via newspapers and other media forms). There is no escaping the inundation of noise that awaits you each day, ready to pounce on you and to destroy the peace of your day. I simply don't want it anymore.

As I was weeding in the garden today, I realized that my garden has become a place of peace and of silence. I pray as I work, reflecting upon the things I need to reflect upon, working out the solutions I need for specific problems. It has become my church of sorts; the way church used to be--when you could walk in and find peace. I can spend hours in my garden, and feel closer to all things spiritual there than anywhere else, including my church. I find that a bit sad, but true. And there is little to do about it. As I get older, I want peace, quiet, and time for reflection. If I cannot find them at mass, then I will find them in my garden.

Easter, spring, and resurrection

It's April 16th, Easter Sunday, and hard to believe spring began about a month ago. The temperature in Oslo today is no higher than about 40 degrees Fahrenheit, and during the night it was below freezing. It is supposed to remain cold like this for the next week or so. And that's put a dent in some of my plans for the garden. It's been too cold to spend a lot of time there (I'm usually there for three or four hours when I first set out to do some work), although I have been there several days this past week to clean up a bit more and to check on the tulips and crocuses I planted last fall. They have poked their heads up but it's been slow going. I just hope that the berry bushes that have begun to sprout new leaves won't be affected by the freezing cold.

There is nothing to be done about the weather. It never behaves as you would like it to. A month ago the temperature was closer to 60 degrees Fahrenheit and it was a warm sun that shone down on those of us working in the garden. I have used this past week (I took the entire Easter week off) to do other things--finish my Norwegian and American taxes, clean the house, wash curtains and blankets--in other words--tasks that I never have the time for when I am working full-time. So that's been good. I have no problem filling my time. There is still a list of chores to be done.

I have also spent some time reading the Acts of the Apostles in the New Testament, and must admit that I've really enjoyed reading this account of the early days of the new church with Simon Peter as its head. As I've read it, I've consulted the National Geographic magazine issue Jesus and the Origins of Christianity (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1683306775/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o01_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1),
specifically the maps showing the places that both Jesus and the Apostles frequented, in order to get a feel for how things 'looked' at that time. I'm glad to have finally run across publications that present the history of the early church. It has given me a new perspective on how things that we take for granted came about. I got a taste of this in college in one of the theology courses I took, where we spent part of the semester studying the evolution of the early church and the various movements that sprang up within it, all competing for power and authority.

We celebrate the resurrection of Christ at Easter time. It is no coincidence that Easter and spring are coupled together. The resurrection of life in nature--trees, flowers, bushes--is a miracle that happens each year. Even if you were not a spiritual person, you'd have to marvel at the beauty of this occurrence each year. As I grow older, it is the natural world I feel more drawn to, and less to the world of commerce and work. I suppose if I looked hard enough at the latter, I would find something that would trigger a spiritual awakening. But I find that to be too much work; frankly speaking, most of the work world has little to do with spirituality and the quest for a better self. It mostly has to do with competition, power, prestige, and greed (it makes me laugh when I realize that you could be the top leader in a department during your work life, but when you retire and have been gone for some years, no one will really remember you--new generations overtake the old--that is the way of work life and more people should remember that in their manic craze to get to the top and to stay there). It is easier in nature to see what God intended for our lives, especially where the miracles of life and rebirth are concerned. The rebirth in nature shows us that we can be reborn each year as well; it is never too late to start anew. It is comforting to know that there is a resurrection of life each year, around this time, and that we can count on that in the years to come.

Gamle Aker church on a winter's night

I was out walking last evening--a clear night, not bitter cold, and came upon Gamle Aker church which was beautifully lit up. A beacon in the darkness, and there's a lot of darkness now in Oslo. I am looking forward to longer days very soon; 3:15 pm is too early in the day for it to be pitch dark. Gamle Aker church is a very old church, thought to have been built between 1130 and 1160 AD. It's not hard to imagine that perhaps many spirits walk the cemetery grounds and the church, given that the church is so old and that its walls and cemetery grounds hold many stories, some known and some of which will remain untold. You can read more about the church here:   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Aker_Church

Good Friday and Easter Sunday

This is the third year I have attended Good Friday services at Gamle Aker church, a Protestant church that is very close to where I live in Oslo. The church was built around 1080 AD, making it the oldest building in Oslo. It is a beautiful old church with a lot of atmosphere—massive stone columns around the nave of the church that give it an air of being an ancient building. When you step into the church, you walk along a dark and cool aisle that leads to the altar; chairs have been placed on either side of the aisle for parishioners. The church is devoid of statues or any decorations save for a few candelabras on the altar. The service for Good Friday is divided into two parts: the first part is the passion and suffering of Christ, with a lot of readings interspersed with relevant songs from the choir which stands on the altar together with the priest. This part of the service ends with parishioners being able to stand or kneel before a crucifix so that they can pray or touch the feet of Christ, much as we do in the Catholic Church on Good Friday. But the thing that most surprised me and has kept me coming back is the second part of the service; this is a symbolic burial of Christ after he is taken down from the cross. The crucifix is placed on the ground in a circular area behind the altar, and parishioners are encouraged to take a flower and place it on the ‘grave’, then the priest says a few prayers and the service concludes. I found this part of the service to be incredibly poignant the first year I was part of it. It felt so real, and so sad, and that of course is the point of it. It is to make you realize that Christ died and was buried in this way. Experiencing this in a church from 1080 also has the effect of placing you that much closer to the actual event in history; at least that is how I ended up feeling, and I was glad for the experience.

On Easter Sunday I attended mass at St. Olav’s Catholic Church. I happened to attend the high mass, which is a mass sung in Latin or Norwegian, or in this particular case, both languages. It was a joyful celebration of the resurrection of Christ; the day was sunny and warm, the church was full of people, and the priest gave a very good sermon about doubt, the scientific search for evidence of Christ’s resurrection, and the importance of faith. His words struck a nerve; this is how I have been feeling lately. I see how important having faith is, much more important than having scientific explanations and evidence for everything that we doubt or that we meet with skepticism. Doubting Thomas comes to mind; Christ had a lot of patience with him but did tell him that some people had faith and did not need to ‘see’ what Thomas needed to see. Some things in this life are mysteries that we will never be able to explain. Love is one of them. We do not require explanations for why we love or why we are loved; as soon as we start to dissect love it can very well disappear or become merely banal. We trust another or others with our heart, with our love, and we take a leap of faith to do that—whether it is romantic love or friendship or charitable love. If we did not take that leap of faith, we could not give or receive love. We can gather as much knowledge about another person as is humanly possible; still that person is a mystery to us and will remain so until the day we die. We will have learned a little about that person but not everything. This does not stop us from loving. How important this is for me to remember when I doubt my faith; that I love and am loved. If I can experience love, then I can have faith and I can trust that Christ’s life and death have meaning for me and for our world. This is the Easter message and it has become a very important message for me. 

Christmas crèche in St.Olav's church

The Christmas season lingers, as was evident at the evening mass tonight at St. Olav’s Catholic Church. Even though the church year has moved on to the baptism of Jesus, the nativity scene, or crèche (see photo) as it’s called, is still on display to the right of the altar, and there were still a number of people after mass who lined up to walk by it and to touch the feet of baby Jesus. There are a lot of church parishioners who originally came from the Philippines; they seem to practice this particular custom. Perhaps other nationalities do as well. I lit two candles and said a prayer in front of the crèche. Seeing the life-size crèche always brings back memories of the crèche at Transfiguration Church in Tarrytown. It was a beautiful crèche with lovely life-size statues of Mary, Joseph, Jesus and the shepherds, and they were made even more beautiful after my sister and her friend scraped, sanded and repainted them. I was the documenter for the occasion, the picture-taker, with my trusty Kodak Instamatic camera. I got some nice photos of their handiwork.

The crèche is a peaceful display, a pastoral scene that is reminiscent of all the best things about childhood and Christmastime that I can remember—a stable, a starry sky, shepherds tending their sheep, angels on high, choirs of angels, and the placing of the child in a manger. Advent (from the Latin word adventus that means ‘coming’) is an important time in the church calendar, since it is a time of preparation for the birth of Christ. There is a lot of symbolism and ritual in the Church. We really prepared for Christmas in Catholic grade school (grades 1-8), starting already at the end of November. In art class we made a Judah tree, which is really the family tree of Jesus, but I don’t remember all the particulars, just that Mrs. Downey, our art teacher, had us use construction paper to design, cut out, and build a tree on which we placed the different ancestors of Jesus. We hung the tree in the classroom. An interesting way to learn biblical history, but I don’t remember much of it all these years later if that was the intent. We also spent time analyzing some of the famous paintings of the Annunciation (when Mary learned from the angel Gabriel that she was to be the mother of Jesus). We learned about the meaning of the Christmas tree; usually an evergreen tree, it is the symbol of the everlasting Christ. All of what we learned was related to the nativity. My parents also set up a small table-top crèche each year, and I continue that tradition. 

There is a bookstore in Akersgata in Oslo called Bok og Media, which is one of the oldest bookstores in Oslo and also a bookstore that has a large amount of Christian literature and media (http://bokogmedia.no/bm/main/bm9001/document/document11/Bok+%26+Media+Oslo.html). It has a special exhibition on the lower floor that they open to the public at Christmastime. You enter a long passageway, and as you enter, you are welcomed by the history of the Old Testament written on the wall leading up to the birth of Christ, as well as a map of the entire biblical area showing Galilee, Nazareth and Bethlehem, among others. As you proceed along the passageway, you will see that it is lined with crèches from countries all over the world. The last room before you exit is a room that is actually a life-size stable with a life-size crèche display. There are benches in front of it so that you can sit and reflect on the scene in front of you, while peaceful Christmas music plays softly in the background. When you emerge from the exhibition, you come out into an area of the bookstore that sells crèches and crèche figures, as well as Christmas music and books and other Christmas items. It is well-worth a trip to experience this exhibition. I have been there twice, and will definitely go back again. It is one of the many ‘hidden’ treasures of Oslo that someone needs to tell you about, otherwise you will never know they are there. The hidden treasures are some of the things I want to tell you, my readers, about in this blog. 

The Catholic Church and Women Priests

When I visit the Protestant churches and see the presence of women priests and that they are leading the services (and doing a very good job), it makes me wish that my church, the Catholic Church, was more enlightened on exactly this issue. I have never understood why women are not allowed to become priests in the Catholic Church, and I have never understood why male priests are not allowed to marry. Both bans are in my opinion, self-defeating and short-sighted. The Church complains about the lack of vocations, but does not understand that if they allowed women to become priests, they would no longer have problems with the lack of vocations. They would also attract more men into the priesthood if men knew that they could marry and still become priests.

I am disappointed in my Church and in the Vatican powers-that-be--disappointed by their discrimination against women, disappointed by their decisions to make the Church remain a patriarchal institution, disappointed by their refusal to let men marry and still become priests, and disappointed by their fierce desire to resist all forms of change in these areas. Most of the women I know who have worked within the Church—nuns, counselors, teachers, altar ministers, office workers—would have made good priests. They were kind and service-minded women, highly-educated and very empathic. I don’t know if they wanted to be priests, perhaps some of them did. They certainly would have done as good a job, if not better, than most of the male priests I have known. I know a little something about the daily lives of male priests because I worked as a receptionist in my neighborhood church in Tarrytown for several years. One of my jobs was to serve the priests dinner in the evening as well as to clean up after them. Most of the priests were lonely middle-aged men who drank and smoked too much and who overate. Some of them died of cancer in their 50s. Others left the priesthood to marry. The loneliness became too much for them. The ones who remained in the Church were often cynical; I think of one in particular who told his congregation that if he had not become a priest he would have become a criminal and probably would have ended up in jail. He was completely serious. He was controversial from the pulpit, and while this was not necessarily a bad thing, he was not a positive or encouraging person, so he was of little help to those who were in emotional pain or struggling with their faith. Some of the priests would come to talk to me in the evening when I sat in the receptionist’s office; they were honest with me about their loneliness and I know they enjoyed talking to me. I was perhaps seventeen years old at the time. The women I have known who have had various service functions in the Church have managed to live much healthier, happier, less lonely lives. I don’t know why. It is strange to acknowledge this after so many years, but it is the truth. In any case, it is time for the Church to let women in; it is time for it to open its doors to major change. I hope that it happens in my lifetime. 

Bots- og Bede-dag

Today I attended a morning service at the nearby Protestant church, Gamle Aker, the church from 1100 AD that I have written about before in this blog. The last Sunday in October in the Scandinavian Protestant church is called bots-og bede-dag, literally translated penance and prayer day. It is a day to take stock of one’s failings, to ask for forgiveness for them, and to promise to atone for one’s sins. The priest who led the service, who happened to be a woman, talked about how no one wants to focus on sin and personal failings anymore, but that despite this, the realities of sin and personal failings remain. She also encouraged folk to take charge of their own lives and not to rely on others to direct them or to entertain them. She talked about how we can sometimes close doors to others, to opportunities, to love, to many good things, and instead choose to live in passivity and fear. In doing so, we will never see the open doors before us, that could perhaps lead us down new paths and to new ways of living.

I believe in synchronicity; the Encarta dictionary defines it as the coincidence of events that seem related, but are not obviously caused one by the other. This is relevant because the priest’s talk focused on ideas that have preoccupied me for much of my life the past half year--the desire to open new doors and follow new paths, about the fear related to changing one’s life, but also about the exhilaration of knowing that one wants to. But it is not enough to mean well or to want to. That is what the priest meant; she meant that we must act on our good intentions. We have a saying, at least I remember it from growing up—‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’. Another (less ominous) way of putting it is ‘if not now, when?’ When are we going to do those good things that we think of but never act on? When are we going to listen to our heart’s desire? When are we going to acknowledge the existence of our soul? The priest reminded us that we do not have a lot of time on this earth. We do not live forever. Our mortality is not a distant fact many thousands of years in the future. For some it is the fate they will face next year, for others many years from now. Nevertheless, death is the great equalizer. It is man’s fate. It is the ‘blight man was born for’, to cite Gerard Manley Hopkins. Another wise person said, ‘live each day as if it were your last’. It sounds perhaps depressing to say this, but it is not. It is a wise way to live but not an easy one. That level of awareness can make one sad as well as happy. We need the balance. Perhaps there has been too much focus on happiness at all costs with no discussion of the importance of sadness in our lives. The yin and the yang as Mara says.

Taking all of this into consideration, I know I cannot be happy with, nor was I ever happy with, a passive life. I do not confuse a passive life with a content or sedate or peaceful life. An active life, filled with choices acted upon, filled with the life and energy that comes from having made decisions about how to live one’s life, leads to peace and to contentment. But the periods of passivity, of anxiety, of angst about making the necessary changes, are also positive in their own way. Rollo May wrote about finding the meaning in human anxiety in his book, The Meaning of Anxiety. He was a psychiatrist, an author, an artist, an activist, and a family man, whose personal values and beliefs shone through in nearly everything he did. He lived a full life and I think I understand what that means now. He described different development stages, one of them being the creative stage, which he meant defined what it meant to be a genuine adult. He stayed true to his heart’s desires and he did not seem overly preoccupied with status or prestige. I believe these two things kill one’s desires and good intentions faster than anything else in both a work and life context. It is hard to stay true to oneself and at the same time be climbing the career ladder to satisfy the wishes of others around you. It is hard to stay true to oneself and to be networking with the ‘in-crowd’ that will ensure your rocket flight to the top, because you may have to do some things that go against your beliefs. What are you willing to give up, or compromise on? I guess we all compromise to some extent, but it becomes more problematic when we approach issues that test our ethics.

Penance and prayer day gives us a chance to look at our failings and our successes, as well as our passiveness and our activeness. It does not mean that we have to condemn ourselves, to walk around feeling guilty, to be unable to forgive ourselves. We cannot be perfect beings on this earth, but we can at least attempt to find the paths that will move us toward living a life that is in harmony with our heart’s desire. We will always be ‘in development’ and unfinished. The important thing is to actively make the journey and to make it a memorable one.