My first introduction to the author came through her website, which was, incidentally, linked through an article on a church website. What was meant to be a quick perusal quickly became a morning-long experience of reading through other articles on her site. (I quite honestly sat at my computer, on a morning in which I had any number of other things to do, and absorbed as much of the written material there as I could.) For one, Frederica Mathewes-Green is an exceptionally good writer, and I don't say (write?) that easily. Perhaps more importantly, though, her honesty and humility about her journey to conversion provide a degree of accessibility for those of us who are otherwise unfamiliar and frankly a little frightened -- even as we are increasingly drawn toward it -- of this "other world" of Christianity.
At the Corner of East and Now is Mathewes-Green's follow-up book to Facing East, her first book about her family's conversion to the Orthodox Church (and which I have yet to read). Some of the reviews on Amazon indicate that At the Corner of East and Now makes for a poor study of Orthodox theology, but I suspect that these individuals have failed to grasp the purpose of the book. It's not really about theology, so much at someone individual experience of embracing a new theology and seeing its effects in hers and her family's life. It's beautifully written, with the chapters alternating between the contents of the weekly services and snapshots of poignant moments outside church. The result is that Mathewes-Green quite literally keeps the reader "at the corner of East and now" by looking back and forth, so to speak: she provides a glimpse of ancient Christian tradition and then she turns the reader's head toward a more day-to-day practice of this tradition. It could, I suppose, feel a little disorienting, but I found it quite helpful. Just as the reader is getting caught up in something that feels almost intangible, a liturgy that crosses the boundaries of time and draws the worshiper into the mysteries of the faith, we are brought back to earth again with the reminder that we're still here with a job to do; and that job usually means interacting with very real, very human people through the expression of Christ's love.
This book is definitely focused on Orthodox Christianity, but I think it's one that can be enjoyed by those not so much interested in the Orthodox Church as in Christianity in general. In particular, Protestants might object to specific theological elements, but they won't miss the recognizable faith behind her words. (I don't have a Catholic background, so I hesitate to project the Catholic impression. I don't think Catholics would be offended by anything in here, however.) And Mathewes-Green doesn't claim to know it all; instead, she makes it clear that this is where her Christian journey has brought her, and this is where she has found peace. It's not about arrogance; it's about learning, pressing on, loving and serving Christ.
Year of publication: 1999
Number of pages: 279
6 comments:
Growing up Mormon (where, Mormonism basically subscribes to the classic western protestant view of history), I felt almost cheated when I learned more about Eastern Orthodox Christianity, when I was older, because I had always learned this exceptionally simple view of history: Christ came, he started a church, it became the Catholic church, which was this terrible church that oppressed everyone, then Martin Luther et al came out heroically against it, setting the stage for Joseph Smith to save us all from our ignorance - a view that paid lip service to, but largely ignored, the fact that most of the world was not part of this struggle at all (not to mention, the fact that, really, Martin Luther et al were no kings of virtue, that the Catholic Church actually did some wonderful things at different points in its history, mixed in with the tragedies, and that this huge separate branch of Christianity was begin ignored altogether. To say nothing of Joseph Smith himself, a man who as I get older feels more and more shady to me). I would love to go back through school in, say, Greece, and see the view they have ( I imagine it has its own ethnocentric bent to, but a different bent anyway). I''m happy that you sound so excited with what you're finding, the book sounds wonderful - and like it simply tells how it is to LIVE as an Orthodox Christian, which with any sect, is something hard to find a good book about - most books about a sect focus on theology, which is important, but different from day to day life.
I was always given the impression that it was just too "foreign" for me to be part of it: that in order to be Orthodox, you have to be Greek/Russian/Romanian/etc. So it took years -- not the mention the convenient placement of a Bulgarian Orthodox Church right down the street from the house -- for me even to look into the theology more closely. And then I found myself saying, "I believe all of these things. Why has this always been treated as such an inaccessible mystery?"
That's interesting, when I was looking at religions, I had the same impression of Orthodoxy - that it was, essentially an 'ethnic' faith, sort of the way that I think of Hinduism - as something that one might end up joining by marriage or something, but where you shouldn't poke your nose in too far. Actually, the entire change in history over the last few hundred years, to where nationality is no longer a strong indicator for denomination, is one that is, to no end, fascinating, and I think, not entirely internalized in our culture yet.
I am curious what doctrines of Orthodoxy felt like home to you? If its not too personal too ask. Or if you'd rather have the conversation in a less public forum, you are welcome to email, too. Or to politely demure from answering, I don't mean to mug you for your thoughts on something so personal
I don't mind -- I probably won't make a post on this, but I'm happy to answer questions :)
In terms of doctrine, the first thing that jumped out for me was the Orthodox position on salvation. My immediate background is Reformed/Calvinist, and my husband and I had found ourselves increasingly struggling with the idea of predestination. I could accept it as a doctrine...just. But I always found myself feeling a little trapped by it. (And since I was told that this was "essentially the position of the early Church," I wanted to be in line with that.
But when I started reading the Orthodox position, it was like a huge weight was taken off me. The Orthodox accept the idea of free will, without believing that they reduce the grace or power of God in the process. It completed the picture so much more for me.
The more I went on, the more I found myself in agreement with Orthodoxy. I absolutely agree with the Orthodox Church about the problems of "filioque" being added to the Nicene Creed. I appreciate the Orthodox position on baptism, chrismation, and communion; I'm even at the point of accepting the all-virginity of Mary -- something that is largely unthinkable to a Protestant.
It's been a process, and frankly a slow one. I started out purely interested and found myself continuing to look into it. And the more I looked into it, the more I realized it was answering questions I didn't want to admit I had and filling a void that the doctrine of my upbringing had left behind.
That's very interesting. I agree with the discomfort around the idea of predestination (Mormonism felt mushy on the subject - God knows everything, and can see into the future, so one would think that this implies that the future is set, but the church doesn't say so, and has a strong emphasis on free will. I found this hedging kind of unrewarding as a child).
I will say, the virginity of Mary has always troubled me, simply because the idea that sex would have made Mary impure feels wrong, in the same way that the virgin saint stories troubled me. The synonymity of purity and virginity just feels wrong to me. But the underlying FEELING of it - that salvation comes through relinquishing that which feels natural - is powerful. The problem with a lot of modern popular religion to me is that it either focuses on other people's sins or through just sort of saying 'everyone will be saved, la-ti-da, you're just fine as you are' (usually accompanied by 'now throw some money on the collection plate'). I want spirituality to tell me to be more than I am, not to tell me to simply wait for God to MAKE more of me. I want faith to make me better, not just be the famed opiate that it can be. But I DON'T want it to tell me that I can extend my own salvation into a a judgement of the salvatory progress of others.
I read an article some time back (and, alas, that I can't seem to find now) that made a lot of sense to me regarding Mary and the traditional belief of the church about her remaining a virgin. I don't much care for the obsession with virginity as some kind of "more spiritual" calling for others, though, as the church could hardly grow without many people making the choice to marry and have children. But I should mention that a different article pointed out much of the writing about early saints was done by monastics, so it's no surprise that they elevated chastity perhaps a little higher than the church itself has tended to do.
I do agree that faith should require some kind of sacrifice and that the Christian life is a daily calling that demands we make choices. Yes, Christ works in us, but I also have to put forth some of the effort. (I think the Orthodox Church uses the term "synergy" for this. God gives me grace and works in and through me, but I have to put the work into my life as well.)
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