On the Christ and Radical Rebellion

I do not proclaim my faith with a boastful tongue or heavy pen. It has never been my intention, as the spiritual path before me begins to wend its way through expanses unknown, to presume a tone of judgment or to cast dispersion upon those of different faiths or no faith at all. In fact, in all that I write, my prayer is that it will be received in the spirit that it is written – that being an essay by me, for me that I share with you not to influence or decry, but instead simply to be, in the spirit of simply being.

The idea that I feel led to put a disclaimer on my writing when the topic happens to be faith is a bit unsettling to me, if only because it implies that perhaps what follows could possibly offend. Therefore if what I write offends you, then my faith offends you and it is not my intention to, in any way, offend. With that let me get to my purpose in writing today.

Often I feel as though we, as the human race, would do well to suffer from a severe bout of amnesia as far as Christianity is concerned. What I mean is that both those that profess a faith in Christ and those that do not would forcibly have all knowledge of Christianity blotted from their collective conscience and begin anew without the prejudices and preferences that each of us brings to the topic from years influence by both supporters and detractors alike.

If we were to have no working knowledge of Christianity and, more specifically, Jesus the Christ, we would, upon first encounter with his story, be stunned at how radically rebellious he was, how profound his words, how compassionate when faced with intolerance, how gracious in the face of hostility. Even if we were to simply assume Jesus to be a great teacher – as many do – if his story had never been told until this very day, how utterly amazing it would be to read "Go and sin no more", "lest ye who has not sinned", ""If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor…" , "Father, forgive them…", "For judgment I am come into this world, that they which see not might see; and that they which see might be made blind".

If we knew nothing of televangelists or the religious right or religious left, if we knew nothing of the Pope or denominations or leaders reviled and revered, what would our opinion be of the matter at hand? Who would Jesus be to us? What wisdom would we glean from his story and his life? What salvation would we find, what hope, what refuge, what nonsense?

If tonight, on the local news, they treated the story of Jesus as breaking news, what would our opinion be of him then?

I dare to say that some of his most ardent defenders today would be his most vocal detractors and some of his harshest critics would be at his side.

The entire landscape of faith would be altered and humanity would never be the same.

But that is precisely what did happen. Blotted from our collective conscience or not, some 2000 plus years ago the landscape of the entire world changed – radically and unequivocally – forever. And whether you believe him to be a great teacher or a crazed lunatic or a saviour, his life – in the finite span of three years – radically shook the foundations of earth.

And I have chosen, at the very age of his death, to live a life so radically bound to his call, so inextricably linked to his spirit, so inexplicably in love with his grace that I might very well lose myself in the journey.

In fact, I'm sure of it!

Beyond Me, the peregrination of a pilgrim

This was supposed to be an essay about my experience at Mount Saviour Monastery. For days after my return I struggled with the right words, beginning essay after essay, hoping to capture the essence of my time there. I told myself that I wanted to convey to you, the reader, every sensation and feeling that I experienced in order for you to fully understand how the entire weekend changed me. But then I realized something.

I wanted you to read about My weekend, My journey, My experience. I wanted you to be impressed beyond words by My words. Ultimately I wanted Me to shine through.

I wanted to write of the unspeakable beauty that surrounded Me and enhanced My encounter with The Divine. It was my intention that you know that I – Me -- was changed by the prayers and the silence and the moment of Epiphany where it all came together for Me. I wanted to write of the sweet smell of nature and the beauty of seeing a friend I had not seen in nearly a decade. I wanted to give you a glimpse of God through My lens.

And while all those things are true they are in no way Truth for they are in no way what my experience truly was. Unlike the endless church camps in high-school and junior high where I left “on fire for Jesus Christ” ready to “spread his word” and “get some people saved” , feelings that surely dissipated as quickly as they developed, I left the monastery with more questions than answers, more wonder than joy, more a sense of the Divine than a sense of My sense of The Divine.

I left tired and broken, with a paradoxically confused understanding that I will never arrive, that the thirst for God is an unquenchable thirst, that the more I enter fully into the presence of holiness the more sullied I appear. I realized that My mask, the mask I wear so no one sees the real me is so easy to wear but so difficult to pull off. And I realized that the first person I wore the mask for was Me so that upon seeing My reflection I would never have to see the real me, the authentic me that is still just as mysterious to me as it has been for nearly 33 years.

Ultimately I realized that I had to get off the cross and instead nail My mask to it. And begin anew the journey, ever aware that I -- Jon-Marc McDonald -- am just as much a mystery to me as God is to me and the more I explore the spiritual realm the more mysterious it all will be.

Renewed but not refreshed, faithful but not void of doubt, lifted but not buoyed. And above all else, seeking, panting, yearning to find myself in the presence of The Divine, with the sad realization that Myself -- the masked Me -- must die in order for me to move closer to the Porta Coeli – the Gate of Heaven – requiring even still the full understanding that the destination is as elusive today as it will be tomorrow and beyond time to the hereafter.