Mhaolain's Child, a Renaissance Thinker in a Post-Modern Culture

The Second Annual Gift of Music Concert

Three years ago in December of 2005, my husband and I were celebrating our anniversary in Orlando. On that particular day, we were waiting for our son to finish his college semester and join us for a pre-Christmas vacation. While we were breakfasting and thinking about the fun we would have when Giorgio joined us, our telephones began to ring with call after call delivering the news that one of Giorgio's classmates, the son of one of our good friends, had been killed as he had made his way home from college the previous night.

Dustin Jack Wells, son of Dr. Dennis Wells, left behind his parents, step-parents, grandparents, brothers, uncles -- a large and loving family. His dad, Dennis, and step-mother, Doris, remember Dustin daily. Now, they provide a venue for the extended circle of family and friends not only to remember Dustin but also to fulfill a legacy that might have been Dustin's had he worked in this realm longer.

On Monday, February 2, 2009, the Wells family will host the 2nd annual Gift of Music Concert, presented by the Dustin J. Wells Foundation. Artists like Dolly Parton, Ronnie Dunn, Keith Anderson, and Kellie Pickler will perform.  This year's event will take place at 7pm at The Wildhorse Saloon in Nashville. General admission tickets are on sale now through Ticketmaster.  Proceeds raised by the concert will benefit the W.O. Smith School of Music. At last year's event, Dr. Wells shared a video that wove events from Dustin's life in with those children whose lives are enriched by the work of the W.O. Smith School of Music. Through the generosity of a family whose lives were abruptly shattered and altered, Dustin's musical legacy is being rebuilt to have an impact no one could have foreseen. I'm sure he's smiling, just as he always smiled when he sang.

Schmemann on Fasting

Last week my Tuesday book study group discussed the concept of askesis in the Orthodox Church as we continued to read through Webber's Bread & Water, Wine & Oil. One of these acts of spiritual discipline my Orthodox friends exercise is that of fasting. I found the following words of Protopresbyter Alexander Schmemann that give great meaning to the spiritual discipline of fasting:

According to the Bible, it is through food that Satan conquered man and became his master. Man has tasted of the forbidden fruit, and in doing so has become enslaved to food, so that his whole existence depends on it. This is why fasting, in this biblical perspective, is not to be equated with a mere moderation in eating, with a kind of elementary hygiene. The genuine fast, the true abstinence, the one which the Church glorifies in her holy "fasters," is indeed a challenge to the so called laws of nature and through them to Satan himself. For nothing hurts him more, nothing destroys his power more than this transcending by man of the laws, of which he has convinced man that they are "natural" and "absolute." Without food man dies therefore his life depends entirely on food. And yet by fasting, i.e., by refusing voluntarily food man discovers that he lives not by bread alone. And then fasting becomes the denial of what has become "necessary," the real mortification of that flesh which depends entirely and exclusively on the "unescapable laws of nature." In fast, man reaches that freedom which he has lost in sin, recovers in the cosmos the Kingship he had annihilated by transgressing the will of God. Fasting is a free return to the fulfillment of that commandment which Adam has transgressed. Accepting it, man again receives food as a Divine gift, food ceases to be a "necessity" and becomes the very image of the messianic banquet, for "eat in order to live" has become again "live in God." This idea of fasting rooted in Christ’s forty days of fasting and His encounter with Satan, is the foundation of the ascetical fast, which one must distinguish (but not separate) from the eucharistic fast, defined above as a state of preparation and expectation.

How like God to love us so much that He provides us great seasons of feasting to celebrate the exercise of fasting.

A Seasonal Segue

It's 28 degrees outside this morning. There are still slight drifts of snow against the edges of chairs, trees, and walls. Yet, in spite of the frigid air and the heavy grey clouds, I'm noticing promises that Spring is just around the bend of time. This morning I noticed my mugo pine shows the first hints of new candles, and my rhododendron is covered in tightly closed buds. But the sweetest signal of the coming of spring is the acrobatic flight of fancy I see in the trees around the creek in my backyard. Just a week ago, the creek was a block of ice, but today a vast flock of robins find joy in diving and splashing in the water. They flit from branch to branch with grace and ease. How does a tiny branch uphold the weight of these birds?

The Robin's Bath

                               --by Evaleen Stein

A flash and flicker of dripping wings,
A wet red breast that glows
Bright as the newly opened bud
The first red poppy shows,

A sparkle of flying rainbow drops,
A glint of golden sun
On ruffled feathers, a snatch of song,
And the robin's bath is done.

Perspectives

I have been interested in history and lore from infancy. Both my grandmothers regaled me with stories of family and times long-gone. Since we lived within 50 miles of the frontier homesites of ancestors who lived and died in the late 1700s and early 1800s, I spent many afternoons walking through the cemeteries of their settlements and listening to the stories of this cousin who sewed the scalp back on her young son, of that grandfather who was murdered by his neighbor, of the young cousin who refused to reveal the names of his comrades during the war and so was hung. The funny stories of Mama's Dressed Eggs and Granddaddy's reputation for fine corn squeezings. All their stories remind me that life is a gift to be filled and shared with those we love, even those who have gone before our birth and those who will come after our death.

It occurred to me yesterday while conversing with my sweet husband that I have been blessed to hear stories of lives from hundreds of years ago simply because I sat at the knees of my grandmothers and great-aunts, great-grandfathers and -mothers who in their turns had sat at the knees of their grandmothers and that ilk. I pray I have the opportunity to share these treasured tales of struggle and survival, of love and joy with my own grandchildren so that they, in their own turn, may regale a new generation of children with the stories of their ancestors who loved and lived and, in turn, passed away.

Go where the ancient pathway guides.

See where our sires laid down

Their smiling babes, their cherished brides,

The patriarchs of the town;

Hast thou a tear for buried love?

A sigh for transient power?

All that a century left above.

Go read it in an hour.

 

                                                      --Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Wonderful World of Wines

I had the great fun to be included in a festive party last weekend at the Brentwood home of Dr. John Munro. He and Melinda invited an intimate group composed mostly of musicians and their spouses to enjoy a wine tasting and pairing hosted by Justin Maestas of Horizon Wine & Spirits and chef (also musician and actress) Jenna Von Oy. The challenge to Justin was to provide our group with tasty but overlooked wines from parts of the world other than the USA or Australia. And the wines had to be in the $20 to $30 range. Justin certainly rose to the challenge!

First up was a beautiful riesling from the Mosel River valley in Germany. Oriel Palatina Riesling was everything I remember of a crisp autumn morning in Germany. It was dry and tangy with hints of apricot, peach, apple, and grapefruit. The perfect way to start the evening. Spoiler alert: it was my favorite wine of the evening, even above the luscious red wines from Portugal, Chile, and France. I can't wait to enjoy the Oriel Riesling this summer at a sunset on the beach.

Justin also poured a wonderful seafood-perfect Italian white, the Tenuto di Salviano Orvieto. This wine is a blend of Grechetto,Trebbiano, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc. Its minerally flavor just cries out for a lobster or crab or shrimp boil. The Wine Spectator lists it as one of the best white wines in the $15 range, giving its 2004 sister a score of 85.

The most expensive white was a huge oaky, buttery Tuscan Chardonnay, Cabreo La Pietra. While my allergies to this style wine prohibited more than a sip, all my fellow guests relieved me of my portion with no hesitation.

Among the red wines Justin poured for us were the tried and true Louis Jadot Beaujolais Villages along with the Chateau Mont-Redon Cotes du Rhone. At less than $20 for either of these wines, they are always delicious choices for any lunch or dinner (and perhaps breakfast?).

Then, Justin brought out his $20-$30 range of reds: the Argentinian Ben Marco Malbec, the Portuguese Esporao Riserva Tinto, the Chilean Casa Lapostolle Cuvee Alexandre Cabernet Sauvignon as well as the Emiliana Coyam, and the Spanish Gran Fuedo Reserva. All these red wines were delicious. I look forward to teaming up with our chef, Jenna, to pair some of these wines with dinner foods. My red choice at this tasting was the Chilean Casa Lapostolle. To my taste, as well as that of my hubby, it was smooth yet tannic, fruity yet forceful. And at $25 a bottle, it will be a wonderful choice for fun evenings with friends and food by the grill.

Friends are always asking my advice on wines to buy. My answer remains the same: you just have to taste some wine to know the wine. Then, you buy what you like. Simple. And at these prices, just what the weekend calls for!

Change :: Metanoia

I've been immersed this week in the siren's song of "Change." The world-wide media has sung this song for months now as our country has anticipated the new era of Change and Hope heralded by our nation's new President. Even greater to me personally, however, has been the presence of the classical idea of change, translated from the Greek word metanoia, in my walk this week. This word we translate as change is so much more than the slight nuances that our culture calls a change, though.

Metanoia has a connotation of a complete reversal of courses, as in making a 180-degree turnaround in your life path. To repeat the theme from yesterday's blog, metanoia demands that the arrow that is the course of my life needs to fly straight to the mark that is God's perfect Way.

I've been listening this week to the song that served as our Call to Worship last Sunday, Let the Worshippers Arise, and I'm struck by the visual image it exhorts us to follow:

Let the worshippers arise....I'm surrendering my all...to The King.

We rise in order to fall down in submission to God's plan for our lives. Metanoia.

Last Tuesday, our study group discussed the Orthodox tradition of askesis, of exercising to build up the physical and spiritual disciplines. Our discussion included the practice of prostrating oneself during both private and public prayer times. Again, this visual of Metanoia struck me, only this time it was in reversal of Arising in order to Surrender, for as we prostrate ourselves before the Throne of God, we fall down before the Divine in order to rise to follow His perfect will for us, His people, those whom He dearly loves.

Life seems to be filled with these 180-degree conundrums of Change. We die to self to live in Him. We fall down to be Lifted up by His love for us.  We sacrifice our personal desires in order to provide for other people. Change, as we understand the English word, doesn't always seem to yield discernible differences. But Metanoia, as conforming to the will of God, always brings the joy of knowing the arrows of our life-paths are flying straight and true to the mark that is God's Throne.

Straight Lines and Arrows

Last Sunday, our worship service began with the song "Let the Worshippers Arise." The words and the music enveloped the congregation as they were compelled to follow:

Let the worshippers arise, Let the sons and the daughters sing, I'm surrendering my all, I surrender to The King.

It was a powerful service during which our pastor asked a thought-provoking question: Where do the dots that compose the line of your life point? Do they point toward The King?

My friend, George Grant, often followed this same thinking when he spoke about the most deceptive of all deceits--the arrow that flies straight and true yet hits just outside the mark. It is "almost, but not quite." At what point along the line of trajectory did the arrow veer to cause it to miss its mark? At what point do the dots that make up the line of my life divert from The Way and cause my lifeline to miss the mark? Where do your life's dots point?

Using Essential Oils

Several years ago, I faced a health crisis that seemed to have no cure, at least to my medical doctors. After being advised to "change my diet and exercise," activities I've pursued all my life, I decided to reach out to other forms of healing for my wretched little body. Ten years later, I'm so healthy my medical doctor is beginning to ask how I've brought such great changes to effect. Though I can't begin to explain to rational thinkers of the 21st century, I can say with assurance that my current good health is due to a combination of reflexology, massage therapy, acupuncture, chiropractic care, and a brilliant naturopathic homeopathic care giver.

I could wax elequent about all my team, but my friend who provides me with my homeopathic supplements also introduced me to the use of Essential Oils. Last Saturday, I attended a workshop led by T.I. Bishop on the essential oils mentioned in the Bible. T.I.'s discussion centered on the materials presented in the book, Healing Oils of the Bible, by Dr. David Stewart.  It was a thought-provoking session in which we learned about the properties of the various oils, their long track record of use in history, and their potential applications in our own homes.  T.I. also provided sample of the oils she discussed for us to smell and, if desired, apply to our own skin.  We not only felt good but we certainly smelled good!

After almost a decade of using oils, T.I. has an amazing track-record of the successes she and her clients have achieved through the application of essential oils. I have a couple of diffusers going here in my house, and I keep a couple of Young Living oil blends rubbed on my throat and feet almost continually. I, too, can say that the use of these oils has healed an issue the most famous clinic in America said was untreatable.

As with most cultures and epochs, we've reached the end of the cycle that saw a generation who depended on pharmaceutical intervention as the sole answer to health issues. I'm thankful to see that the ancient tools for providing good health are returning to a place of consideration alongside the "modern marvels" of pharmaceuticals.

Read in order to Write

I've been an unfaithful writer in these past few weeks, at least in the sense of writing output. However, since the classical model for writing includes the study and imitation of excellent writers, I can perhaps justify my lack of written output as I have been buried under a mountain of excellent books. I'm still making my way through Phyllis Tickle's The Great Emergence and marvelling how timely it is to be reading such a work during the week of the inauguration of the 44th president, Barack Obama.

However, the author whose works are like a siren-song to me is Alexander Schmemann. I've been reading his work, For the Life of the World, for months now. It's not a huge book -- only 151 pages. For anyone who knows me, you are agasp that I'm still making my way through a work that's only 151 pages, as I typically plow through a book at about 50 pages an hour. Yep, I'm a fast, voracious reader. But this book is like Chesterton's Orthodoxy in that I want to read and reread sentence by sentence, paragraph after paragraph. I believe that I will come to memorize Schmemann's words for they are all worthy, well-chosen, beautifully organized, and highly meaningful.

It's appropriate that I'm reading the The Great Emergence alongside For the Life of the World. Schmemman's work, originally created in 1963, illustrates the ideas that Tickle asserts in her work. One author asserts what the Church may do as revealed by historic patterns; the other exhorts the Church to do those very works that will create Tickle's new, and at the same time old, embodiment of the teachings of Christ and His followers.

This section from Schmemann (pages 24-25) goes hand in hand with the thoughts of Tickle:

"...from its very beginning Christianity has been the proclamation of joy, of the only possible joy on earth. It rendered impossible all joy we usually think of as possible. But within this impossibility, at the very bottom of this darkness, it announced and conveyed a new all-embracing joy, and with this joy it transformed the End into a Beginning" (24).

Regarding the liturgy (leitourgia) of the Church, Schmemann continues, "[leitourgia] ... meant an action by which a group of prople become something corporately which they had not been as a mere collection of individuals -- a whole greater than the sum of its parts" (25). Schmemann concludes by pointing out that through this corporate unity, the people of God "become what they were called to be. . . the chosen instrument of His purpose" (25).

Our pastor challenged his flock in his sermon yesterday to continue to be the hands of Christ, particularly in these days of dark economic travails. As Tickle, Schmemann, and Pastor Mike all remind me, it is only the pouring out of God's grace and our response to that grace that works for good in each generation. Good writers record the historic work and project the future work of God among His people, but the truly great writers inspire their readers to participate in that work.

Baby, It's Cold Outside!

"Close the door" was a frequent admonition to my brother and me as we were growing up on our farm. Well, someone needs to close the door on this cold air that's pouring down from Canada. Here in middle Tennessee we've been below freezing for two days in a row and are headed for a third night in the single digits. The creeks and falls in the backyard are frozen to a trickle, and not a bird has chirped around the house today. Enough, already. It's warmer at my cousin's house in Kelowna, BC than here!