Augustine,
As mentioned in my previous post, I was a bit heartbroken when discussing the Eucharist vs. sermons as the central focus of a liturgy/service...it wasn't just a difficult thing to process intellectually. It was emotionally painful as well--because this wasn't a mere intellectual discussion for me, it was tied to very real things that I was trying to work out regarding my own faith, something that was such a key part of my identity. And that I always tried to approach both rationally and emotionally.
As I continued to learn about Orthodoxy, I started to tear down what I had called my "stumbling blocks" to the Orthodox faith. Things that I wasn't just ignorant or unaware of--like the focus of liturgy or the importance of the Resurrection...things that just weren't adequately addressed in the Protestantism I encountered growing up (though I know that's not true of every Prot. church)--but things that I had actively been taught were essentially heresy: the importance of the saints and especially Mary (the Theotokos) to name two.
I come from a very Protestant family, but it's not just that...my family members aren't just Evangelical Protestants [of varying stripes]...they are ex-Catholic Protestants, who all converted around the same time. And in some ways, there's nothing like the criticism you have for a tradition that you left, that you deliberately chose to leave.
I was terrified when my "stumbling blocks" seemed to crumble, and I started to realize that I was already becoming Orthodox in my mind, if not quite yet in practice. It wasn't just a shaking of things that I'd believed my whole life--it was the prospect of having to tell my theology professors and mentors at Gordon, my school (I thought there was a decent chance that I could lose my job...thankfully, I didn't), and my family, especially several of my uncles whom I had had long theological discussions with.
At some point, it wasn't enough to just be Orthodox in my mind, I started attending liturgy, and by the time I had reached that point, I had already been 'sold' on Orthodoxy (I approach things through my mind first). Then I had to tell everyone...I worried that some subsets people would think I wasn't a real Christian anymore, or just completely disdain aspects of my faith and try to convince me out of it.
Thankfully, those conversations on the whole went a lot more smoothly than I might have hoped--often because people knew at least that I didn't do anything half-heartedly. It was something I had been researching for a long time and had "defenses" ready for. But few of the conversations even got to that point--sometimes, one or another person would bring up something, but typically it just became this sort of resigned, "Okay, I guess, you seem to have at least thought this through, even though I really disagree with you. Let's just talk about what we do have in common," sort of thing.
What was really curious though--and still is when it rears its head from time-to-time--is that I realized that there are some things that feel so vulnerable, that I don't want to defend them. Orthodox teaching about Mary (the Theotokos) is one of those things.
I don't feel the same connection to the Theotokos that many Orthodox, especially women and mothers do, because there's still that Protestant piece of me that just...feels unnatural about it sometimes. (There's another story here too about how some of that has changed). But while there are some moments that feel unnatural, I still do like many of the Orthodox beliefs about the Theotokos, and there is some sort of special kinship and protectiveness there. It's because it somehow feels so pure, so beautiful, so right, that I can't bear the thought of exposing it. I can't bear the thought of it being laughed at, shrugged aside indifferently, or worse...attacked.
It does tend to come up in discussion in certain circles, and I find this almost physical reluctance to talk about it. It's not something I want to have to defend with words, because it feels so deeply a part of me and so absolutely vulnerable, that I don't want to expose it in that way. I don't want to have to defend and explain my thinking on it with people I know differ, instead I just want to tuck it away and deflect things, swiftly turning the conversation to something that feels a little less precious. A little less costly--even with my closest relatives. There's something about it that feels...raw at times. Like an exposed nerve which can't take even the slightest of pressure...not because it's weak, but because it's so deeply rooted and connected somehow that it's beyond words or arguing. It just needs to preserved and protected.
I think of so many of my friends who experience this same rawness about different aspects of their own identity. It makes me want to protect them too. I don't want to debate theology that's raw and vulnerable with other people, not when I know the deepness of that for real people whom I know and love. Instead I want to go into a protective mode and just divert things away so that the rawness is protected from harm, so that things have a chance to blossom and develop in their own time.
I live in a world where it's fairly easy to protect myself--theological discussions about Mary happen in certain circles, but not many. I look at my friend who converted to Islam, and think about how every single conversation with her whole family (immediate and extended) has that level of rawness. That's part of where I love my friendship with her--even though we have such different beliefs, we allow each other to share the beauty of what we see, and we try and see that beauty in the other person's beliefs. Even though we don't believe the same way--we recognize the rawness that we're dealing with and we protect each other with that as much as possible.
Does everybody have something that they feel this way about? I'm not sure. Perhaps I'm just not aware of things. I feel like everybody that I know has some type of "raw" experience in their past...but it's different when it's not just an experience that shaped you, but some core piece of your identity. And even more painful when those differences are tied to oppression and prejudice--when the danger is not just one of vulnerability but of actual safety.
I don't know, but I've been thinking a lot about it recently in regards to the difficulty of dialogue. There are moments when I think it is worth pushing myself a little and having those scary conversations that feel vulnerable, but there are many other moments where I feel it's better to shield raw places. And when it comes to others--I always want to shield and protect them...and I know I can't. I can't even promise that I will always say or interpret things properly so that I don't wound them in raw places (though I would never want to and try to be sensitive to it...I know I've failed, awfully sometimes).
I don't have any answers, just more and more questions and reflections.
+Athena
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