Ponderings on the Trinity

I have been looking at what the Patristics have thought about the Trinity, and some curious questions have been emanating from this young twenty-first century mind. How odd is it that the Trinity has been studied by numerous eminent minds and men of God, yet even so the greatest of them have ended their discourses with the word, “Mystery”. Why was the Triune nature of the Godhead a doctrine that St. Athanasius was willing to be exiled three times for? Why has the Church labeled many as heretics because of their definition of the Trinity? What is at stake? Let us rummage through the minds of the Patristics to begin to answer some of our inquiries.

Orthodox Christology was the first battle that our Fathers fought for in the Trinitarian debate. Evans says, “Apart from the divine identity of Jesus as the Son there could not be a Trinity.” Though this may seem evident to us today, it is a primary reason for the Patristic’s tight grasp on orthodox Trinitarian belief. If Christ is not the second Person of the Godhead as truly as He was a walking, breathing human being then there is no Trinity to be spoken of, or really a Christian faith for it too is dependent upon the divinity of Christ. Because of this our Fathers pushed that Jesus was "of the same substance (homoousios)” as God rather than just of “similar stubstance (homoiousios).

Orthodox Soteriology was also in the balance. Gordon Fee said, “[all these soteriological verses] in some form or another reflect the threefold activity of Father, Christ, and Spirit in effecting salvation”. In describing his “economy of salvation” St. Irenaeus highlights the specific purpose of each of the Godhead in salvation saying, “God the Father uncreated, invisible one God, creator of the universe…and the Word of God, the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, who…in the fullness of time, to gather all things to himself, became a human among humans to…destroy death, bring life, and achieve fellowship between God and humanity…And the Holy Spirit…was poured out in a new way on our humanity to make us new throughout the world in the sight of God.”

Basil of Caesarea was known for his emphasis on the equality of the Spirit in the Trinity. The “filioque controversy” came up because it was important to our Cappadocean Fathers that the Holy Spirit proceed from both the Father and the Son together. They defined the Trinity as one Substance in three Persons so it was necessary that the Holy Spirit be equal, proceeding from both and having in Himself the Substance of the Father and Son together.

The Patristics have used many analogies of the Trinity, two of which particularly lead away from thinking of the Trinity in a neo-Platonic manner. St. Augustine couples the Trinity with charity saying, “charity certainly loves itself, but unless it loves itself loving something it does not love itself as charity.” And further he says, “Now love means someone loving and something loved with love. There you are with three, the lover, what is being loved, and love.” The second I want to mention is one used by Cyril of Alexandria in the fifth century who said, “already the fragrance of the Holy Spirit has breathed upon you…That may you enjoy the Christ-hearing waters in their fragrance”. In this way the fragrance proceeds from the Throne of God (i.e. the Spirit) while Christ is enjoyed in that same fragrance and the fragrance is God the Father.

The Athanasian Creed seems to typify what the Patristics saw as the elemental beliefs that are necessary to maintaining an orthodox view of the Trinity. It says, “Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary to hold the Catholic faith…But this is the Catholic faith: That we worship one God in trinity, and trinity in unity; Neither confounding the persons; nor dividing the substance. For there is one person of the Father, another of the Son; another of the Holy Ghost. But the Godhead of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost is all one: the glory equal, the majesty co-eternal.” The Creed continues with each aspect of God, attributing it to each Person and then unifying them as One, not Three. It concludes saying, “So that in all things, as aforesaid, the unity in trinity, and the trinity in unity is to be worshipped. He, therefore, that will be saved, must thus think of the trinity.”

A final aspect of the Patristic’s teaching on the Trinity (which Athanasius mentions) is seen in our salvation, when we come to the font of living water which proceeds from the Throne of God, the wound of Christ, and the presence of the Holy Spirit. Herein we bind unto ourselves the strong name of the Trinity, the Three in One and One in Three. This is why we may all walk from henceforth to study, meditate upon, and worship the Holy Trinity for the whole of our lives and still be continually awed into a greater understanding of the holy Mystery.

Comments and thoughts are welcome.

People of the River

From Eden flowed four rivers going to nourish the four corners of the earth. As they flowed through the years they changed, and grew, the Nile even changed into blood, but the Lord healed that too. The Sea of Reeds opened up to let the people of God pass through on a quest for the promised land. They got thirsty, like you. They asked their Creator for water, and He even split a Rock in Horeb, though the rock was only a vision of the true Rock to come. They did reach the promised land - by walking through water again. The Psalmists oft sing of the river of God that flows from the base of His sanctuary to give suck to the whole earth. His rivers rush through the minor prophets, the major prophets, making borders and wars, drying up for the ungodly, taking lives and giving them.

And then the River of Life was born in Bethlehem, the One Who would make all rivers true to their course. He Himself was immersed as heaven opened and blessed Him so that He might wash the world with the baptism of river-water, then the water of His tears, and then the water which flowed from His side on Calvary. You and I are born from here, cleansed from here, and redeemed from here.

From Eden to Paradise, we are people of the River, and we must both be born from it, and die again that we might live in the Eternal Font.

The Curse

I felt the curse today.

Keenly I saw it in your eyes as you fondled your child. The one you must still protect from me. I spoke and you listened, but our main discourse occurred between our pupils. Five minutes we looked. Foreigners to one another, yet eight feet away. I thought you to be asking me "why"?

I didn't have the answer.

The division of our languages happened far before Babel. You take me back to Eden with your blink. You don't trust me and I can't earn it back. How is it we share the same air, the same dirt, the same home - the same Creator - and we can't trust each other? I asked you to hear me out. You stood, both of you. You moved your child behind you. Am I so much a threat? I tried to explain it's not my fault. If I could I would remove this distance.

I can't redeem you - or us.

Perhaps you know me better than I do. Do you think I would fail if we had a relationship? Would I kill us both as my father Adam did? Probably. This hurts me more than I can remember before.

You heard me out, and bounded away - or did your fawn jump first? However it was, you returned to the safety of the woods, leaving me to feel the weight of a lost Eden. I can't wait for the not yet of the new earth - then you will let me touch your children and you may play with mine.

The Smoky Haze of Childhood Days

The smell of pines rushed quickly in as four arms and legs ascended into the first heaven with the scampering speed of some small rodent. A new tower of Babel was created - we would reach the top with the greed of making a throne at the top. I'd like to say I reached the pinnacle first, but perhaps he did, or it was a tie.

The cold nipped at our noses, we had all become Rudolphs that day. We pressed and dug and stacked and moved - we were taking dominion of the white flecks of water that had visited from the waters above. We would take care of our Eden, we would subdue and order this creation - we would be faithful Adams. Our snow fort would be more formidable than Goliath's armor, and we would shield our foreheads. The battle was waged, canon balls of white were launched at record speed, and we were laughing - always laughing....

The snow-runoff water of our stream threatened our small corpora, but our hearts tried to compensate, sending reinforcements to the extremities. Why do I mention now what gave no notice then? The frigid water was no bother, we were hunters that day, our prey had two pinchers and could launch backwards with one flip of the tail. Our crawdads were brownish (or were they reddish, or orangish?) and they were going to give a fight for life, but so were we - they were our sustenance and we would not have mercy.

The plans were written, blueprints drawn - I'm sure there were nearly as many as Solomon had for his Temple. The seven of us were saying "adios" to our family dwellings and building our third and largest cabin. The other two were forts, but this would be the sanctuary of our honneur et vertu. To us this would appear as more perfect than Olympia's Zeus, more mathematical than the Great Pyramids, more beautiful than Babylon's Gardens - it would be the First Wonder of our World. And it was, it was the centre of our kingdom, where we played and ate and played and slept and played. It was paradise.

We grew.

Some left.

The tree was timbered.

The snow melted.

The crawdads enjoyed peace at last.

The fort has fallen to an unknown enemy.

We are all adults now, the Clear Creek gang is all over the world.

The seven-fold band is unwound, but the strands still come from the same strong beginning.

And what has the mind done to reality? Why can't I remember crying or spankings or schoolwork? What kind of great illusion has time placed upon those younger years?

I think I'll go make a fort and find out.

Singing

When I was lately at Pepperdine University, I had the blessing to hear Frederica Mathewes-Green. She is an Orthodox writer and speaker who is humble and kind, a refreshing voice in this world of chaos. For fear of misquoting, she said something similar to the following with regards to singing:

When we sing, we are given again the Breath of Life from the mouth of God, and we receive Him into all of us, and at the same time are given the opportunity to return that Life to Him in a way more harmonious and beautiful, taking an active part in the harmony of the Trinity.

Enough said. I have thought of it every time I've sung since then.

Scared of the Dark

Why is the dark so frightening? Why is the first thing I do in my house flipping a switch and creating light? I know how to walk through the living room, down the hall, into my bedroom without going through all the trouble of turning on lights at every step. And, when the light goes on in my head everything is safe again, but in reality, nothing has changed. Why is this and is it the same in the spiritual sense? The Light scatters the darkness creating safety and comfort, no more bumping into walls and looking like a crazed person with arms fully extended in front of you - your eyes are opened to behold things invisible and unseen. Riddle me this.

Pre-Fab Worship

I was recently at a conference about a cappella music. Most of the people there were from Orthodox traditions, Church of Christ, or people just interested in the music. There was also a panel of speakers who were from various non-traditional Churches who were presenting on Church music with/without instruments and what kind of music should be played in church today, etc.... One was from a more "emergent" Church who had some good words about bad hymns and good hymns, and how we should only be teaching our children the latter kind. But he was very non-denominational praise-band worshippy. Another speaker had a nifty PowerPoint program on "Convergence Worship". He had more degrees for his age than any ought to have, and the corporate nature in which he dealt with the topic at hand was slightly unnerving to my more traditional veins.

I must be growing - I didn't get angry and I was slightly amused.

One picture kept coming to my mind: With all the discussions about how we should worship and what music should be played and who are we targeting and are we being culturally relevant, I just kept asking myself how many times we must reinvent the wheel rather than getting on a cart that already has wheels and sorting things out from there. That's not the picture though, that was a rather long rabbit-trail. The various evenagelical movements today continue to put up pre-fab buildings on a parking lot (valet parking sometimes included) when right next-door is a cathedral that is founded in the Garden of Eden. We aren't supposed to be culturally relevant in our worship - WE'RE SUPPOSED TO WORSHIP THE ETERNAL AND EVERLASTING GOD OF HEAVEN AND EARTH. Like Adam. Moses. David. The Apostles. And all the faithful departed this life in a faith sturdy enough to hand down to their great-great-grandchildren. I want to go to Church to worship God in His Cathedral, and I want to better it for generationsI will never meet.

I pray that I will have the strength to build just one brick of that cathedral that spans all time until Christ's completion rather than be concerned with the pre-fab, quick-fix nature of my culture.

A Friendly Critique of State Universities

No, the illiteracy rate has not gone down. Millions of people across the world are trying to handle unplanned illiteracy. Most are unsure and uncomfortable in social arenas, and struggle with feelings of confusion and self-doubt. Many are just plain tired of not understanding, and often times not even knowing that they don’t understand. And so many never seek a remedy for fear of not “fitting in” with the literate college class.

But the State Universities are changing all that. By using taxpayers dollars, they are able to advertise cross-country using small words that the common people can understand. They are reaching out to the illiterate by offering a place where they will fit in – where everyone has had a mediocre education. The environment is one that they will understand, for the greatest draw comes from the public schools, allowing for a common level of comprehension.

The student counselors talk to people every day that think they are too illiterate to attend college, who are afraid of not being able to keep up. The counselors tell the illiterate population of today not to worry because the State University will meet them where they’re at, allowing them to receive a degree with the least possible work.

For example, Susie went to California State University frightened to death of having an overload of homework with lots of writing and tons of books to read that were written by dead white European authors. But when she talked to her counselor, all her fears were relieved. The reading would be less than her public high school, deadlines would be flexible, and the teachers would keep lectures simple. This would leave plenty of time for getting on to the things that are important in life like hanging-out with friends, keeping in touch with those back home, sports, and finding your perfect illiterate “other”.

That’s what your State University can do for you, because they understand life’s priorities.

A fun little tidbit -

Advice For U.S Citizens Visiting France

The following advice for American travelers going to France and it is intended as a guide for American travelers only.

General Overview

France is a medium-sized foreign country situated in the continent of Europe to the left of Germany. It is an important member of the world community, though not nearly as important as it thinks it is. Among its contributions to western civilisation are champagne, camembert cheese, French fries, the guillotine and an unsanitary method of kissing.

One continuing exasperation for American visitors is that local people insist on speaking in French, but will become immediately enraged should visitors try.

The People

The French people are temperamental, argumentative, proud, arrogant, aloof and undisciplined. These are their good points.

The French are aware that they have garlic & cheese halitosis, and it has caused them to perfect the dismissive shrug instead of conversation.

Men often have girls' names like Jean, Marie are Michel, and they kiss each other when they meet.

Cuisine

Let's face it, no matter how much garlic you put on it, a snail is just a slug with a shell on its back. Croissants on the other hand, are excellent, although it is impossible for most Americans to pronounce this word.

Public Holidays

France has more holidays than any other nation on Earth. Among its 361 national holidays are: 197 Saints' days, 37 National Liberation Days, 16 Declaration of Republic Days, 54 Return of Charles de Gaulle In-triumph-as-if-he-won-the-war-single-handed Days, 18 Napoleon Sent Into Exile Days, 17 Napoleon Called Back From Exile Days, and 2 France-is-Great-and-the-Rest-of-the-World-is-Rubbish Days.

Safety

In general, France is a safe destination, although travellers must be aware that from time to time it is invaded by Germany. Traditionally, the French surrender immediately and, apart from a temporary shortage of Jack Daniels life for the American visitor generally goes on much as before.

A tunnel connecting France to Britain beneath the English channel has been opened in recent years, to make it easier for the French government to flee to London during future German invasions.

Should there be a war while visiting, don’t worry about the Germans, but the French – if you see them coming, run like hell.

Bon Voyage!

Pondering thought...

A thought struck me the other day as I was driving with some students in the car. I thought a thought I'd never thought before, and I am quite intrigued by it.

In Heaven (wherever or whatever that is) there are four earthly bodies that we know of from the Scriptures. Moses, Elijah, and Enoch were presumably assumed into heaven with their earthly bodies very much still intact. And then of course, Jesus Christ, ascended into heaven with His resurrected body. So, are there three non-resurrected bodies living in heaven? Or was their flesh discarded somewhere in the journey? And, for interest's sake, what are those three bodies doing in a world of souls? Do questions like these have any implications on our beliefs and/or thoughts about heaven?

Please, comment!!

Post Scriptum: If you are Roman you would also be including the Blessed Mary in this (?)

Earth and Altar

For all of you who haven't subscribed yet, please go to http://www.earthandaltar.org
It is a wonderful Anglican Journal of "life and worship" which has been a great source of encouragement and edification for me. The following is the article I wrote for this last Issue, though I would highly recommend you get it off of the site (which is the edited and easily-printable version). Have a blessed Lent.

"Drowned in Living Waters"

Nietzsche couldn’t understand; Hitler got it backwards; Marx forgot humanity; and the Modern Christian gets it all wrong without thinking at all.

Going against the wisdom of this world, Christianity resembles more the survival of the weakest than the survival of the fittest – making foolish the prophets of our age. In his work, The Anti-Christ, Nietzsche said, “The weak and botched shall perish: the first principle of our charity”, but St. Paul maintains that, “when I am weak, then I am strong”. The German thinker claimed that “a [man or society] is corrupt when it loses its instincts, when it chooses, when it prefers, what is injurious to it” but the world’s Savior said “take up your cross and follow Me”. The morality of Modern Man declares virtue as “whatever augments the feeling of power, the will to power, power itself” while the Son of Man requires His followers to be “clothed in humility.” With condemnation Nietzsche wrote, “The fate of the Gospels was decided by death”, with acclamation the Patristics agree. Christians are insane, or at least they should be.

Lent is the embodiment of the Christian life in a Season, and as such is a portrayal of good Christian lunacy. So, dear readers, accept for a moment (at least the duration of this article) that you must die to live.

The story of Lent is one that encompasses all the Covenants, both past and future. It is Joseph who lay bruised and beaten in the depth of a pit only to rise up and be clad in Pharaoh’s clothes. It is desert-exiled Moses, a reluctant shepherd, who led God’s people to the Promised Land. It is a very sore Abraham, cut in his old age, who would have descendents enumerating the hosts of the sky. It is a short kid named David who conquered his fear (he couldn’t have had that good of an arm) and received a Throne. It is a girl pregnant out of wedlock who denied all pride and became Theotokos. It was God in flesh, battered and crucified ascending into heaven. And it will be our eternal judgment and the eternal banquet of the faithful. Christians old and new live in a backward reality.

In this Lenten story, we have all become Adams, hiding from ourselves and God, forgetting (or trying to forget) that He sees all. And so Lent is the time when God walks through the Garden, calling our name and asking us what we have done. We wriggle and whinny ourselves in every direction, pointing fingers and passing blame as layer after layer reveals us as basely human. Once we are stripped, our nakedness in plain view, then God begins to sew clothes for us. That usually happens around Day 39.

Lent is my favorite Season (which many find quite strange). I have a devotion to Lent because it is the journey of Christ. I walk unreservedly with Him in the desert of hunger to face demons and find angels. He asks us to follow Him unconditionally as He treads upon the thorns of sin with hope, but no sight, of a rose. He gives strength to be crucified with Him, to go down into the depths of Hades with Him, to die with only rumors of a resurrection. Forty days to see my utter depravity. Do not think that it is morbidity that finds love in these things. It is thankfulness that our Lord Christ would walk this earth to kill death itself and then, having finished the race, grants us the Spirit to share with Him in His suffering. In Lent the Spirit reveals with utmost clarity who I am, and utterly disturbed by the sight, I run to Christ and cling to Him, seeking to be clothed in and with Him.

Lent is also the sequence of our baptism; in baptism, we are drowned. Our old man is left gulping down fonts of water and suffocating while our New Man is raised to the newness of life. In the depths, in the fires of hell, in the baseness of humanity we are held for forty days. One day a week we are allowed to grasp a short breath of air, a wisp of victory, then under we go again. We are left to stare up through the blurred current at the Light, and as the days pass the darkness grows darker, and yet somehow it seems that the rays of the sun penetrate clearer through the rivulet of rushing sins. We are drowned in Living Waters.

And then it’s Holy Week. Blackness and agony enfold me as the assigned Readings cast all thought of my weak faith aside in the looming greatness of the Cross and Passion. Someone thought it was a good idea to read through every account of Christ’s agony and bloody sweat – brave soul. By Holy Saturday my soul has nowhere to turn but to that Font from which it was born, and the words of St. Augustine ring through my being:
Oh that I might find my rest and peace in you! Oh that you would come into my heart and so inebriate it that I would forget my own evils and embrace my one and only good, which is you! Oh, in the name of all your mercies, O Lord my God, tell me what you are to me! Say unto my soul; I am thy salvation. Speak so that I can hear. See, Lord, the ears of my heart are in front of you. Open them and say unto my soul: I am thy salvation. At these words I shall run and I shall take hold of you. Do not hide your face from me. Let me die, lest I should die indeed; only let me see your face.

In Lent we have been drowned, buried, and burned – we have experienced the eternity of forty days. But then our shoulders are grasped by strong hands and we are raised “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” We come out of the cleansing river and we breathe truly, for we have the Breath of Life restored in our lungs. We see truly, for we are blinded by the Light which casts out darkness. Easter has come, and we are not only raised with Christ, but we ascend with Him into the heavenlies. Here we are accepted to that Heavenly Banquet in the most unshrouded glory of the year – Christos Anesti! Nietzsche was wrong, Modern Man is a liar, Reality is not as we thought it. We have died to live.

Apologies

Yes, because I have been so long in checking my blog, the horrid evil-livers of the internet world had hit my site with copious amounts of obscenities. I heartily apologize if you saw this. May they repent.

...as sheep and cows

Would that I stopped to stare.

The wind plays its symphony upon those “lifeless” things: trees, leaves, grasses. The sheep and cows hear it - it is the white noise of their days. They seem quite content with it. Do they applause, or leave that to the swaying trees?

Wake. Pray. Read. Shower (well, sometimes). Granola and Yogurt. Birkenstocks on. Sound of the pavement during my "commute". Work.

The sound of rushing streams. Night and day hold no difference for them, the stars are always there. They pass rocks and other currents, they flow on in commute to a new destination. What makes water have that sound, and why do we say they’re rushing?

People everywhere – the same people as yesterday. Chaos. Corporate Prayer. Some children dance. Some children doze. Whiteboards. Phonics. Work.

Boughs, woods, squirrels, streams – these are not the only things at which to stop and stare.

Darkness turns to light during the time I pray. It reflects across the Lake. My prayers are consummated when I kneel beside naughty little boys. Laughing eyes of learning children. Penitent eyes of punished ones. The frustrations that prove humanity. Trying, and being tried, by that band of friends called “co-workers”.

Would that I stopped to stare, to see Beauty in my neighbors. To embrace that smile that waits in my student’s eyes. Would that I stopped to stare, but not as sheep or cows – that is for special days.

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

-William Davies

Angels

Any ideas why our culture, and ones that have gone before, have portrayed angels as babies, cherubs, or little children? Is that the best we can do when thinking about purity and innocence, or is there something more? Would we like to ignore the Scriptural picture of the terror-striking angels of Isaiah's writing or the flaming sword of the cherubim that guarded in every direction? Just curious.

Interesting thought...

I lifted this from my little brother (well, little in relation to years - he looms over me in height...).

"...history is an endless tide and so it is undamnable"

Never thought about it that way. Leave it to a 13-year-old.

Seraphim in the Sunset

There were Seraphim in the Sunset yesternight. The God of the heavens had painted in a glorious array of orange majesty the expanse above me. I was on my way to a friend's house, or at least was supposed to be, when I could go no further. When I stopped, time stopped with me as I observed the handiwork of the Creator. The clouds had an absolutely amazing floating nature to them, slightly wispy and yet the thick and strong they took their time with the wind as it urged them along. They flew with leisure, so that I could not see if they were commanding the winds or if the winds were commanding them. Both seemed in perfect unity, or maybe the wind seemed a bit impatient at times. And then that orange. No manish sub-creator could ever capture the palette before me. Many would snap their shutter and many would take up brush - but none would succeed to mix the proper hues. Indeed, this masterpiece before me was born from an infinite mind.

I am convinced that these colors could capture blinded eyes with sight - like mine or maybe yours or maybe the person that pulled off the road behind me. In some way in that frozen moment I felt the part of Isaiah at the Throne. In front of me a vision of the heavens that lie beneath the Eternal's throne and I could feel the wind from the Seraphim's wings as they flew in those clouds. My knees buckled as I felt my cheeks wettening. The Eternal, Almighty, Artist-God that thought this sky into being has chosen, called, saved, and loved a vile speck of dust. With the mighty Wind He breathed on this dust and made me His.

Thankfulness rushed through me as time began again as the drivers rushing past gave a curious glance. I was late to my friend's but on the road to Hamilton I had seen the Eternal.

Family Road-Trips

It's been four years since I've had the pleasure of accompanying my young siblings and two parents for the ritual 12-hour drive to Southern California for Thanksgiving. And the only reason I have time to write this now is because I am sitting in my parent's house at 7pm waiting to hear that age-old words "all aboard that's goin' ashore" from my dad. And waiting....And waiting. Of course this morning we were not going to take the tent trailor, but as of a few hours ago we are. Of course two hours ago I had to drive thirty minutes to pick up the car we're driving because it was in the mechanics. And, of course everyone's hustling and bustling with sharpish humors about them. BUT, some of my only memories of my family all together for more than ten hours are on road trips such as these. As we drive down the road (after we turn back twice to get what was forgotten) it is as though we enter a new world. What should have been done before simply melts away and lists are forgotten and we just ARE together. I like these times, even with the all-too-predictable inconveniences and unplanned adventures (like the time my dad got pulled over and was spread eagle on the ground because the cop had put in the wrong license plate number and the vehicle had come up stolen). So, Happy Thanksgiving - enjoy the difficult times with family because they make the good times so much sweeter.

Anti-Crossers

An older piece I wrote to address those who find the crossing of one’s self to be horrific and unacceptable for Protestants

Refutation of two Anti-Crossers


The first adversary is one that screams “Rome!” in a very loud, high-pitched, and slightly annoying voice as they sprint in the other direction. The best time to approach these types is when they have not yet seen you cross yourself and are completely unsuspecting of any Romish tendencies that they might later perceive. I would recommend at this time that you calmly approach the subject, subtly saying that crossing one’s self is indeed very Catholic, but in no way Roman (this comment may take a bit of explanation, which you must be prepared for).

The second adversary is one of a Gnostic tendency, specifically the kind that think crossing is highly “liturgical”, and liturgical means structure, and structure means a severely decreased leading of the Spirit. On the first point, they are absolutely right, on the second, even more correct, and I still haven’t quite nailed down what the third accusation really means in their mind, but I sometimes wonder if it could be related to that heartburn from Saturday-night pizza that hits during the third praise song…. I gently ask them to read the Old Testament and get back to me (encouraging them to consider that it is the same Spirit in both the Old and New Testaments). Upon our next meeting I ask them as tactfully as possible how they see the leading of the Spirit in their church. The response consistently seems to boil down to emotions, a popular example being: “I felt led to raise my hands.” If they go there, I light up like with excitement and exclaim that, “I feel led to cross myself, and when I do, so does everyone else in the congregation! We must be really unified in the Spirit!”

Blessed are the peacemakers.