Book Review: Facing East

I first became acquainted with the name Frederic Mathewes-Green through the writings of Rod Dreher, who referenced her as a gentle voice describing conversion to Eastern Orthodoxy, a journey which he himself has made.  I filed it away in my "That might be a book I want to look into in the future" and promptly went along my way - for some years.

The issue reappeared more recently, as I go through one of my periodic religious peregrinations.  I have a number of books on Orthodoxy - Kallistos Ware's books The Orthodox Church and The Orthodox Way are enjoyable and highly readable (his essays, which constitute two current volumes but are starting to roll out in a collection again, are also highly enjoyable) but they are a 10,000 foot overview of the Orthodox Church.  Mathewes-Green's book, as I suddenly re-discovered it on Thriftbooks, was billed as "A Pilgrim's journey into the Mysteries of Orthodoxy" - and at a discounted price, it was worth a try.

What a genuinely pleasant surprise I was in for.

Facing East is a book of many different layers.  It is the description of the liturgical year of an Orthodox congregation as viewed by a member of that congregation. It is a history of the authoress' journey from non-believing free-spirited "Hippie" with her husband to a belief in God and their religious journey to Orthodoxy.  It is a story of a start up congregation. It is a view into the interactions of a small community of people living out The Word in the world.

If that sounds like a lot to pack into 240-pages, that is because it is. And that is because Mathewes-Green is a excellent writer.  The stories - vignettes really - are focused around the seasons of the Orthodox church: Preparing for Lent, Lent, Holy Week, Pascha (Easter for us Western Christians), Pentecost, Nativity and Theophony, and back to Preparing for Lent.  Within each of these major seasons a series of stories are packed in.

We meet the congregation of Holy Cross Orthodox Mission of Cantonville, Maryland.  Mathewes-Green gives the members of the church descriptions and names that make them real: Musical David, Hardworking Jeannie, Basil of the loud voice, Carolyn the Icon painter.  We watch them through the year as they deal with the struggle of making do in a rented space (familiar to anyone that has been involved in a church startup). Mathewes-Green is a member of the choir, so we we get an insight into how Byzantine chant works.  We get a view into Mathewes-Green's family as well, her older daughter and two younger sons.

We also learn a lot about the Orthodox church and believes - not from a formally religious person, but someone that seems to be able to clearly describe things from a layperson's view.

Like Rod Dreher, Mathewes-Green never tries to argue the reader into Orthodoxy. She simply presents it as it is, as she sees it.  Her love of the Orthodox Church clearly comes through the way she speaks and the way she writes of the church and its mysteries.

The best part?  She is a very good writer.  I devoured this book, making it a part of my early morning reading.  I was sorry when we reached the end (beginning) of the Liturgical year.

The book was originally written in 1995.  Mathewes-Green wrote a post-script and then - for the 10th anniversary edition - gave a 10 year update.  It was a nice closure to the book, to find out what happened to these characters that I had met and become - in a way - friends with over the Liturgical year  - they did end up finding their own space, for example, and the Mathewes-Green family went from three children to three wedded children to 5 grandhildren in 2006 (and apparently 15 now). 

The book was so good that I cheerfully ordered the follow-up, At The Corner of East and Now, which documents the continued adventures as they move into a new space.

Bottom line:  Highly recommended, both for the comment and writing style. What a joy it is to find a book that both educates and is well written.

A Year Of Haiku (XXXVIII): Autumn Sky

Not just the sunlight:

the deep blue sky of Autumn 

different as well.

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Saigon (IV)

 The Basilica of Our Lady of Saigon was built between A.D.1860 and 1880 using materials all shipped in from France (although interestingly, the clock on the front is from Sweden).  The two towers were built in A.D. 1895.  The statue of Mary is from much later, A.D. 1959.

The former South Vietnamese Presidential Palace, now the Independence Palace:

Back to the Central Post Office - this time with interior views:

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Saigon (III)

The Ben Thanh Central Market was original a market location that predated the arrival of the French in the 19th Century.  The building was rebuilt in A.D. 1914.  

It is an indoor/outdoor market, which includes a wet market and a wide variety of items for sale.

...including coffee stands:

Ho Chi Minh (or "Uncle Ho" as we heard him referred to more than once) is in a lot of places:

A Saturday Morning Stroll

 For the first time in what feels like a while (but maybe not), I had a Saturday with no scheduled events on it.

It is a hard thing for me at times, this idea of nothing on the schedule - modulated by the fact that "nothing on the schedule" never means that I do not have things I need (or at least think I need) to do.   An empty early Saturday morning means more time to pray and read and write, more time to try and translate Old English (we are currently - and slowly - working our way through "The Battle of Maldon"), more time to have more coffee (maybe a little more than I usually do).

It is also a good time for a stroll.

During the week I try to get out the door no later than 0615 for my stroll, which is approximately 30 minutes long.  It is more appetizing in the Spring and Summer of course, when the sun is up.  But we are plunging slowly beneath the waves of Autumn into Winter, with the sunrise now delayed to 0645 - but always moving later.  As a luxury to myself, I wait until the sun comes up, busying myself with laundry and more reading.

This is the coldest morning we have had in a while:  40 F/4.5 C is what greets me when I get up.  The temperature has risen to a warmer 43 F/6 C by the time I get underway, making my traditional stop at the dumpster to dispose of the cat's litter box leavings.

It rained last night at some point as I was treading the darkened paths of sleep; I heard no sound of it but the evidence is always clearly on the blacktop as I stare out the window.  As a result everything is cool and wet.  It rained yesterday, enough that I did not have to water.  Today's rain will obviate the need to water today as well.

Once I get going, I do enjoy walking in the morning darkness:  the play of light on leaves and trees is lyrical, the moon and clouds dance between seasons, the clouds winning more than the moon at this point.  Walking in the morning light is different, especially on a Saturday:  far more people are up and about, running or strolling or walking their dogs.  I move to the street (or try to) as a courtesy to dog walkers:  at least one small dog still considers me a threat.  I mockingly throw up my hands in surrender as I walk by and acknowledge his fierceness; his owner and I share a laughing glance.

I modulate between listening to something and silence in walking, neither of which seems to take with me this morning.  The podcasts are too political so I turn them off.  The silence leads my mind down things at my job or other larger events that cause a spike in my anger.  I have to self modulate between them.  I have a song list on The Tube of You that is well curated and I can concentrate on.  The Ravishing Mrs. TB reminded me I have a Dotify account as well - it turns out they have a wealth of music there, songs that I have not thought of in years.  Alan Stivell, the Breton harper is there:  after years of not hearing him, it is a pleasure to find out I can still hum along.

After the long walk to the end of the street, I have a choice - immediately go back or walk down the The Allotment.  I was going to go down today as a sort of pre-harvest cleanup for next week, but I would like to let things dry out.  It is worth the quarter mile stroll or so to get there.

This is the first time I have been down there in the daylight in almost a week:  the rapidly decreasing daylight means most visits are now in the evening dark which is enough to see where I need to water but not necessarily specifics.  It is working for now; I will be glad to have a rest for Winter.

In the daylight, one can see my wins and errors:  a few bean pods still cling to drying as to the better amount of my soybeans.  The potatoes have fallen down. The grain I planted is clearly too close together; I need a better planting method.  And I still have tomatoes on the vine.

One of the branches is bent over with the weight.  In my attempts to "help", I manage to break the branch. There are two tomatoes that are close; I think the rest will have to be sacrificed.  I grab all the ripe ones I can find.

Tomorrow, I mutter to myself as I wash the tomatoes off from leaf mold, I need to cut the beans back.

Walking home with a pocket of tomatoes on one side and a phone in the other, I start to play something else - and then find myself wound up again.  I change the subject in my mind - and then get wound up again.

Then I reach in my pocket and feel the tomatoes, dried and warm in the fleecy pocket.  And calm down.  This, I remind myself, is reality.  This is the sort of thing I can marginally influence.  This is representative of what effort properly directed in action does.

Making the last turn, I hear the sound of geese overhead, a set of many that I have heard on this hike, flying in formation heading for warmer climates.  Like them, I turn towards home as well.

A Year Of Kindness (XXXVIII): Never Regret Choosing Kindness

(Source)

Arguably are there times that I have "regretted" choosing kindness?  If I am honest, at some level I am sure there are.

But if I look into that a little more, I find something else at play.  It is not regret at having done the act of kindness but the regret of how little it may be noticed or appreciated.

But that really becomes my problem, not the other person's.  Yes, I may have been taken advantage of or misunderstood or ignored.  But ultimately, kindness is more about myself and not their reaction.

It is a far better thing to be able to look back and - no matter what the outcome - realize that I did the right thing, the better thing, the kind thing.  Part of it is a recognition that life goes on beyond this mortal plane and every deed - good or evil - comes along with us to the Great Day of Judgement.

But part of it as well is I just feel better afterwards.  Because I did the kind and correct thing.

Never regret choosing kindness.

Adding Value

 We are reaching the point of the year where "Annual Reviews" and "Next Year's Goals" and "Budgets" are starting to enter the chat.

This is by no means a foreign concept of course: I have done this sort of thing for well over 25 years now, the rush at the end of the year to remember all that was done during the year previous, and then - as a manager - to help people remember what they did during the year and what they will need to accomplish during the next year.

The timelines change - they always do; my current company does not have corporate goals until well into December and our individual goals are due until March of the following year - but it remains - like the falling of the leaves that are happening as I write this - an annual seasonal event.

That said, this year is - for me - a little more thoughtful.

One of the questions, given what I sense in world around me, is the question of adding value.

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"Value" can be a subjective measure of course. Some measure it in purely financial terms by what one "brings in" or enables.  Some measure it by the specialized knowledge one has.  Some measure it by those indefinable factors that make work a "better" place.

But businesses, ultimately, need to make a profit to stay in business. And to that sense, those that are there need to - in some form - add value.

There have always been, I suppose, employees that never added value throughout history. That said, when labour is mostly manual or hand-made, it can be pretty clear who is adding value and who is not.  That became - I suspect anyway - much easier as we moved into the mechanized and then digitized environment:  the ability to "look busy" has never been more easy. One can simply sit in front of a screen and for all the world, people think you are doing something important.

Maybe. Maybe you are just checking messages or surfing the InterWeb.

But a strange thing happens when demand sinks and money tightens up:  businesses start to look at the bottom line and results.  They look at things like cost and development time and lead times and returns.  They generate labour models for expected workloads, and begin to carefully look at all those numbers.

The boom in Artificial Intelligence - whether one completely buys into it or just partially - will exacerbate these trends. Absolutely it does not get everything right; it can also automate a lot of simple tasks and provide some level of data analyses that it would take a person hours or days to do.

And companies, in an era of rising expenses and flat earnings. are taking notice.

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I have taken to asking myself every day as I come in "How am I adding value today?" and as I leave "How did I add value today?"

To be fair, it is a mental exercise for myself at this point: clearly my employer determines the value I add, not me (at least for purposes of employment).  But it is a useful sort of thing to have at one's fingertips in case the question is asked.

My worry is more for many of coworkers, especially those of the younger generation.

For a great many people - and not just the young - there is a sense that a job is owed them simply by their existence, and that once in that job their productivity ("Adding value") is simply their presence there.  The idea that at some point they might have justify their job to the corporate powers that be never occurs to them.  I do not wonder if part of that is a simple failure to see things from the employer's side of the equation.

And the quickest way to attract attention to yourself in economic environments such as the one we are entering is to sit at a desk or on the shop floor, being present - and not much else.

That is not the sort attention it is wise to attract.