Thursday, December 9, 2010

You have your work, and nothing more...

I failed you yesterday. My apologies. The end of the semester has been quite busy with papers and projects and exams. After all:

It is necessary to work very continuously and valiantly and never apologetically.
--The Art Spirt

I have one more (small) paper, but I need sleep before I can attempt to write it.

Though:

Arsenius said, 'One hour's sleep is enough for a monk if he is a fighter.'
--The Desert Fathers

Hmm. Think on THAT one.

Less than 48 hours left in Ghana. That... is actually not okay.


Tuesday, December 7, 2010

"The art of being still," he said.

He also said, 'If you really want to, by the evening of one day you can reach a measure of godliness.'
--The Desert Fathers

The power of concentration is rare and must be sought and cultivated.
--The Art Spirit

Hmm:

George taught me all about concentration. "The art of being still," he said.
--Sunday in the Park with George

Be still and know that I am God.
--Psalm 46


All I have for you today, folks. Unless you want statistics about suicidal ideation in children. Or a rant about how people in America don't care/know about what's going on in Cote d'Ivoire. But that rant will come later.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Sleep now the untroubled sleep of the angels...

Hyperichus said, 'He who teaches others by his life and not his speech is truly wise.'
--The Desert Fathers

I apologize for the lack of blog last night--we lost internet that afternoon, and I haven't gotten it back until now. Because of the lack of internet, I was also not informed of the passing of James L. Ruffa until I woke up at 3:50am (due to heat, the air conditioner had stopped working) and saw a text message from my father.

Dr. Ruffa was the Director (principal) of Appomattox Regional Governor's School for the Arts and Technology (my high school) from fall 2004 - spring 2010. He came my sophomore year of high school.

I first became personally familiar with Dr. Ruffa when I was summoned to his office for disciplinary action my junior year. That was the last year we would have school pictures taken to be in the yearbook (since our senior year had the whole "senior portraits" thing), and a few of us thought it would be fun to dress absurdly. Because I wore all black, many people assumed I was "goth" at first glance, so I played into the stereotype and came to school in full-on goth makeup. (I looked like I was in the band Kiss.) People didn't think much of me, but when Carter came to take his picture dressed as a woman, the administration started to realize what was going on and worked quickly to put a stop to our shenanigans. I managed to get my picture taken, then ran to the bathroom to wash my face without getting caught. Until, of course, the pictures were developed, when my unusual picture was brought to Dr. Ruffa's attention and I was called to the principal's office for the first time in my life.

In this kind of situation, you can go on and on about the right to expression, but the fact is, in most high schools at least in my area, I'd expect I would be called to the office, given detention for "lack of respect" or something, and forced to retake the picture. Instead, Dr. Ruffa called me into the office to talk. He asked (actually asked--he was interested in the answer) why I'd done this. I explained that it was a bit of fun, playing with the stereotype I tended to project, that no ill will was intended. He listened, and explained that he wasn't quite sure what to do because he didn't know the policy on things that obscured the face, particularly because these photos were to be used for our student ID cards. The ID card issue hadn't crossed my mind since we'd never had student ID cards before, but was completely understandable. He asked me if I would be willing to retake the picture on picture makeup day as he contacted the school district to figure out the policy. I agreed. Had I actually come to school every day wearing that kind of makeup, I might have rallied for that expression, but as it was, that was someone else's fight, not mine.

After that encounter, Dr. Ruffa and I developed a lovely relationship. He was upfront about how if you showed him respect, he would show you respect, and he was true to his word. I would often see him around during lunch or after school, and we'd exchange a few words. Once, my senior year, he sent out an email to all the seniors containing the story of a runner who mysteriously quit just before winning the race. No one knew why he'd quit when he was so close to victory. This email was clearly meant to deter us from slacking off just before graduation ("senioritis"), but I thought, "Well, if the runner was about to win then purposefully quit, he probably was trying to make a point and we should pay attention to what he has to say." Being the smart aleck that I was (and still am), I sent Dr. Ruffa an email back, noting that it was an interesting story that reminded me of Anton Chekhov's short story, "The Bet". He had not read that story, so he emailed me back asking if I had a copy he could borrow, and I sent him the link to the text online. When I saw him at lunch a few days later, he looked at me and said, "Colleen, why did you have me read that story?" with an undertone that said "that messed with my entire world view" and the slight misery that tends to come with reading Chekhov. Most high school administrators would not have been open enough for me to even send that email, let alone actually read it and consider it. But the great thing about Dr. Ruffa was not only his respect for the students but his willingness to learn from them. (After knowing Carter, the-wearer-of-bandanas, and me, Colleen-of-the-bowler-hat, he actually changed the rule book's stance towards hats and headcoverings, allowing them to be worn in non-classroom situations... previously I'd only been allowed to wear my hat before and after school hours.)

Feel the dignity of a child. Do not feel superior to him, for you are not.
--The Art Spirit

Whenever I would come to visit ARGS after my graduation, I would try to always stop by at a time where I could see Dr. Ruffa. Once I came in to visit and there was a policy that we had to be visiting for some specific purpose and the director must be informed. When Mrs. Matthews called Dr. Ruffa to say, "Colleen, a former student, is here to speak with the Acting IV class," she hung up the phone and said, "He says, 'Welcome back!'" He was always interested in hearing what I was up to and we had delightful conversations.

It was a loss to ARGS when he retired, absolutely. He fought for the school. With the budget crisis that happened last year, Dr. Ruffa truly stepped up to bat fighting for resources, proposing a major cut to his own salary to avoid cutting programs. (This was a very bold move politically, calling into question the motivations and paychecks of administrators across the school system.) I remember visiting ARGS that winter, talking with teacher after teacher after teacher about what was happening and hearing again and again how hard Dr. Ruffa was working to ensure the continued growth of this school and its programs, which he believed in wholeheartedly.

I'm not sure what I can say at his death. I spent a long time after I got the text message awake, thinking. It was sudden, unexpected; a heart attack. My prayers go out to his family and friends, and even I, who didn't know him that well, all things considered, feel something caught in my throat. But mostly, I have to express my gratitude for his life, for his work, for his respect and belief for the students of his school. It's an example I will never forget.

Godspeed, Dr. Ruffa. You will be missed.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Do you know your enemy?

The devil appeared to a monk disguised as an angel of light, and said to him, 'I am the angel Gabriel, and I have been sent to you.' But the monk said, 'Are you sure you weren't sent to someone else? I am not worthy to have an angel sent to me.' At that the devil vanished.
--The Desert Fathers

Yesterday was my roommate Madison's last day in Ghana. She left early to be at graduation, since she's receiving an award. (fancy schmancy, sitting on stage and all that.) I had tons of work to be doing, but it was Madison's last day, so I spent it with her. After a tiny bit of shopping in Osu, we headed to the beach, where we laid out in the scorching sun, as usual. (At one point I turned to them and said, "Guys. It's December.") While we were there, some white men showed up. We think they were Australian. They had shirts that said, "Church on the Street" on the front and "All About Jesus" on the back. And they had a megaphone. We watched them, slightly confused, wondering how long they'd been in Ghana. They proceeded to ride up and down the beach on horses, shouting things about converting to Jesus through their megaphone.

This is daft. For many many many reasons.

1. Colonialism. White men shouting about Jesus while riding horses on a beach in Africa. Talk about cultural/historical insensitivity.

2. Related: obvious lack of research. If you're going to travel to prostyletize somewhere, please do your research. Colonialism is part of that. But part of that is knowing that Ghana is a country that's 68.8% Christian. And not "Christian" like many American Christians who can leave their religion in a specific building and not have it bother them until they visit on Sundays. Very active, passionate Christians. When we went around on Thanksgiving and said what we were thankful for, every single Ghanaian at the table started with, "I thank God for..." In many ways, you're preaching to the choir here.

3. What are you going to get across to people by screaming at them?

4. Terrible, terrible theology.

And that's the thing that really got me. I got more and more angry because their theological basis was just terrible. The entire basis of their ministry was, "Come to Jesus, he'll fix everything and make you feel better." And I had half a mind to go up to them and quote scriptures, but they were too busy healing people and casting out demons there on the beach.

Jesus is not a "get well immediately" card. God isn't a bandaid. Christ isn't an escape plan. Converting to Christianity is NOT going to make your troubles go away. In fact, it will make them much much worse. Accepting a call to discipleship is accepting the call to lose everything you've ever held close. As my Life of Muhammad professor put it, "When you preach the word of God and you are not attacked, you are not preaching." If you can think for a second that following Christ's call is easy, then you have strayed far from the path. God promises us relief, yes. God gives us hope. But all of that is for the life to come, not this one.

It's false advertising, what these people were doing, really, and it frustrates me endlessly because there are so many people who think that that is what Christianity is. And thus, there are so many people who want nothing to do with the church or even God because of that. That's why it's easier to be openly gay in New York City than openly Christian. People start to assume that's what it is. We shared this story with others in our group at dinner, and some said, "That's why I'm not religious. I know not everyone is like that but I'm so used to seeing and hearing things like that and it makes me sick." Or people will give up on "organized religion" at the very least.

I'm not interested in saving souls. Call me a terrible evangelist, but that's not my goal. I do think it's a pity, though, when people miss out on things that could enrich their own lives and the lives of those around them. I also happen to think that Christianity's true message, which is entirely about love, is an incredible guide for how to live life fully and collaboratively, and that if more people worked to follow that message, in whatever language they translate it to, the world would be much nicer.

I get enormously frustrated, as a Christian, when I encounter these people. I refuse to give up on the church. Yes, the institution. I was raised in the church, I'm deeply connected to various churches, I see value in the church. The church messes up a lot, but it's a human institution. Do I think the church is for everyone? Absolutely not. And it would be easier for me to say, "Forget that," to say, "I don't believe in organized religion," but the fact is, I do, and I'm not going to give that up. It has enriched me as a person far too much for me to abandon ship like that.

But man, do I get frustrated and want to shout, "We're not all like that, you know!"

And it's for reasons like this that humility is a lesson that all religious people need to learn. Without humility, wars are started. Religion can turn sour very quickly if it is not paired with humility. Humility is what would cause these people who I believe had good intentions to be able to come into a foreign land without the idea that everyone needs to be "fixed" and that they're the ones who can do the "fixing".

Some people study hard for a time, then they "graduate" and sink back into the little they have learned.
--The Art Spirit

And it is humility that, even while I stand by my belief that their theology is fundamentally flawed and their execution leaves something to be desired, will help me come to remove personal judgment and know that there is something positive that they do that I can learn from.

Love ALL.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Christ is alive, no longer bound to distant years in Palestine

He also said, 'A monk was told that his father had died. He said to the messenger, "Do not blaspheme. My Father cannot die."'
--The Desert Fathers

Genius is not a possession of the limited few, but exists in some degree in everyone.
--The Art Spirit

Christ IS alive. Where do we look for Him? Each other.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

I know I've been changed.

Daniel and Ammoi once went on a journey together. Ammoi said, 'Do you think we might rest for a while in a cell, abba?' Daniel said to him, 'Who can separate us from God? God is in the cell, he is also outside in the world.'
--The Desert Fathers

Art is not in pictures alone. Its place is in everything, as much in one thing as another. It is up to the community as a whole, in conduct, business, government and play.
--The Art Spirit

Tonight was our farewell dinner at Headlines Hospitality. We had a welcome lunch at Headlines Hospitality when we came in August. It was our first time being exposed to most of these Ghanaian foods. We didn't know each other, we didn't know this place, but we knew that the time would come where this would all be familiar. And tonight, there we were. Dressed to the nines in custom-made clothing with crazy colors and prints. When we went up to get food, we knew if we wanted joloff or kenkey.

And I sat there, wearing this sassy gold dress, munching happily on plantains. Music was blasting, as always, and I was dancing. As usual. The director of NYU in Ghana nicknamed me "Madame Dancer" after our "Wavin' Flag" fest at Thanksgiving last week. As we waited in line to get our food, several of us started a small dance party. In the line. Why not? If there's music, you dance. That's the Ghanaian philosophy. We were all chatting and laughing up a storm.

And I looked up, and I think it was Jupiter, that bright planet I could see. And I thought, "You knew, didn't you?"

Here's my thought about eternity. Eternity is not "a really long time". The best I can explain eternity is that if we usually think of time as being horizontal... eternity is if that horizontal line flips to being vertical. Eternity is all of time existing at once. Everything that has ever happened or will ever happening IS happening at any given moment. All of it. Time is only something we've invented to organize it. We can experience eternity in this lifetime, and we do. Those moments where you realize that something happened years ago that you completely forgot about but led you to this exact moment you are now experiencing. Those are times we can not just intellectually understand, but somewhere within us FEEL the connection. They are the same moment.

I was walking through a beautiful forest this weekend, heading towards Wli Falls, one of the most beautiful places on this earth hands down period. It was a place that I felt seemed to welcome me there. As if it was obvious that I would come there sometime in my life. And I listened closely to the wind and it said, "When I created this place, I knew you would come here."

I'm not entirely sure why this doesn't disturb my idea of free will. Perhaps this is because I'm working to continually give up my free will? But I think it's less of a question of whether we have free will or not, and more of a matter of prevenient grace. Grace that goes before you.

I said before I left that I didn't know why I was coming. I could point out reasons but didn't quite know TRULY why, that God said, "Go," and I said, "Okay." And coming here I was met with that grace that was here for me before I even knew I was coming.

We've all been changed. We're all completely different and yet still the same. The same because those changes already existed inside of us. Waiting for us to get there. "We are always in the act of becoming," was my 10th grade English teacher's favorite quote. Some of the changes I've undergone I see and can articulate already. Some will take my return to my home soil to really pick out. Some will take years to figure out. Some I may never notice. What I do know is that these changes are vital. And the experiences that have led to them have been nothing short of mindblowing.

"You knew, didn't you? You knew all of this would happen. That's why you sent me here."

And the only thing I could hear was a big, booming laugh, that has now become quite familiar to me.

And the only thing I could do was laugh right along.

Allois said, 'Until you can say in your head, "Only I and God are in the world," you will not be at peace.'
--The Desert Fathers

I am not interested in art as a means of making a living, but I am interested in art as a means of living a life. It is the most important of all studies, and all studies are tributary to it.
--The Art Spirit

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Fighting is all that matters, 'till the rapture shatters...

Poemen said about John the Short that he asked the Lord to take away his passions. So his heart was at rest, and he went to a hermit and said, 'I find that I am at peace, with no war between flesh and spirit.' The hermit said to him, 'Go and ask the Lord to stir up a new war in you. Fighting is good for the soul.' When the conflict revived in him, he no longer prayed for it to be taken away, but said, 'Lord, grant me strength to endure this fight.'
--The Desert Fathers

A work of art is the trace of a magnificent struggle.
--The Art Spirit


Any conflict you encounter is a tremendous gift.