All of me

I am always looking for inspiration. Always. Today I was inspired by something unexpected. For no apparent reason, I remembered this documentary on Netflix, The 24 faces of Billy Milligan. I mention it because of course I've watched it. Why, you ask? (Pretend you've asked) Because mental illnesses fascinates me, not in the least because I have always believed I am afflicted with one since I can't just explain it away as weirdness. Anyway, the documentary is focused on this famous case of a serial rapist turned murderer that was suffering from Dissociative identity disorder (DID) or multiple personality disorder which entails the maintenance of at least two distinct and relatively enduring personality states. (I Googled that, I am no expert.) It's a pretty disturbing story and I won't spoil it for anyone who might stumble upon this article, but the gist of it is that Billy was living with 24 other distinct personalities inside him and one of those 24 happened to be a rapist.

It made weird sense to me that his personality had splintered into tiny fractions and was then forced to live with 24 strangers inside himself. I don't think I have Dissociative identity disorder but I am strangely aware of my different "I's". I don't tell people this because I don't want to end up in a mental institution before I get to explain myself. But regardless of what I do or don't tell people, it doesn't change the fact that within me there's a liar, there's a robot like creature, there's a pretender, there's a feminine creature that likes all things girly which the liar covers with a simple 'no, I don't!'. There's a child, there's a reckless fool, there's a coward, there's an army general and a hunter which is mainly in charge. They switch depending on the situation, but I am a mix of all that. I was ruled by different combinations throughout my life. After many, many failed attempts to make the “I” work, the hunter was the only reasonable choice left. He's trained to track God's footprints through any kind of terrain and disaster. And to ensure the rest stay in line, the general is second in command. There's peace now. The “I” works. It's not a well oiled machine, but it works. Most of the time. I have been through times of inner war where each and every part of me was fighting with each and every other. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I remember clearly that the last war the 'I' had nearly finished me. And just when I believed that I have reached the end, I was reminded of Isaiah 11:6,

“The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.”

All these different versions of me that are completely opposed would kill each other under normal circumstances. I used to think that completely whole and healthy meant to eliminate all the dangerous ones and leave only the cute, peaceful ones. Now I know better. I know that they can all live together in one being. How? Because Jesus came. Jesus Himself being both an lion and a lamb, is both my lion's tamer and a shepherd. Because He rules over all of me, He doesn't need to come guns blazing, shining like the sun, thunder in his voice and lightning in His eyes. Instead He's so confident that I am under his control, that he appears as a little child and all he has to do is start walking and all my “I's” follow. 

by Cristina Pop

In Captivity

 Today I was thinking about the Roman siege against Jerusalem. Not because I have exhausted every other topic, but because a friend mentioned it on his social media. He was mourning the destruction of HaMikdash (the Temple) and said a few things that contradicted Josephus, the historian that recorded the whole long ordeal, but I didn't contradict him. Instead I'm writing a blog about it :)))

In all fairness, it has left a deep wound on the Jewish soul everywhere and every Tisha B'Av they mourn their loss. But I am not writing about the wound of a nation. I could never do it justice in explaining that pain. But it got me thinking about the siege itself.

If you read Josephus' account The Jewish War, he goes into every detail of what it was like on both sides. It has been a gruesome, torturous and long event. It began on the 14^th of April, a few days before Pesach (Passover) and lasted until Tisha B'Av in August. The Roman legions surrounded the city and tried to cut off all supplies. They encountered a harsh resistance from the Jewish Zealots which often ended up fighting among themselves as well as trying to defend themselves. They didn't just surrender, they put up a fight. The walls collapsed slowly and the population kept retreating to wherever the walls held up. But in the end the siege succeeded and Romans won. They killed a massive number of people, armed and unarmed and those that couldn't flee, they enslaved and carried large numbers to serve as entertainment in gladiatorial fights. It's a sad, sad story where the only happy ending was for Josephus, whom turned against his own people and joined the Romans.

I started thinking about Paul's words to the Corinthians. “The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” (2Corinthians 10:4-5)

Paul is using military language. He's describing a siege tactic. He's talking about a spiritual fight that happens in the mind and he suggests that we should employ the same ruthless tactics of a siege to overcome whatever you need to overcome in order to follow God. Whatever setback, whatever sin, whatever evil that has made a stronghold in you, you HAVE to attack it and if that doesn't work, you have to lay siege to it until it's demolished. It might take you a long time, you might encounter resistance, in fact you will for sure, but that's alright. Arm yourself with patience and grace. Rejoice in every small victory and don't be discouraged by any loss, because if you stay on it long enough and are relentless enough, it will fall. The Babylonian walls have collapsed even though they were 85 feet wide. There's hope for your walls to collapse as well.

Once everything withing you that has rebelled against what you know God is and what His word says, then you take that thought and put it in chains and enslave it without any mercy, by submitting it to Christ.

It sounds ruthless. That's because it is. The good news is that if you're smart, you'll probably have to use siege only a few times in your lifetime. If you happen to be like me, a bit on the slow side, you'll probably have to use it more often than I care to admit in this article. But the point is, it works.

It's painful, it's exhausting, but believe this if you believe nothing else: IT WORKS.

We might be sent like lambs among the wolves which makes us food basically, but we're not defenseless. We have been given weapons. The only ones that do work which are only effective if you stay close to The Lord. So follow close to Him, even if you have to drag in chains after you every little thought you've taken captive.

by Cristina Pop

This little light of mine

I don't posses that enviable quality to be joyful and chirpy all day every day. I am not a depressive person by any stretch of the imagination and anybody that knows me knows I love to laugh. Too much for some people's taste but, hey, I am alright with that.

Be that as it may, I am in my head quite a bit and I usually face tough questions on a daily basis and I don't shy away from views meant to discredit my own. G. K. Chesterton said in his book, Heretics,

 ''Ideas are dangerous, but the man to whom they are least dangerous is the man of ideas. He is acquainted with ideas and moves among them like a lion-tamer. Ideas are dangerous, but the man to whom they are most dangerous is the man of no ideas. The man of no ideas will find the first idea fly into his head like wine to the head of a teetotaller. ''

I don't think everybody should expose themselves and their beliefs to daily scrutiny and attacks, but it so happens that I do. I envy people that shelter their views and live surrounded by people that happen to see things the way they do. Sadly I belong to a category of people all of my own. I am no lion-tamer. I am a wanna-be-lion-tamer. I don't have the experience and wisdom to tame even a lion cub yet, but I can't help but wanting that skill. Why? Because it so happens I LOVE lions best and I'd like to be around them without being torn apart. Lions? They are ferocious and unpredictable beasts, lazy most of the time but when they charge... my word! They are amazing! (Instead of lions, read ideas.)

To some people it sounds brave, to others it's sheer stupidity, however that's what I do and in consequence I struggle a lot.

Some days I wake up with a heavy heart. It literally feels like a heaviness on my chest and I feel sad and defeated. And I know for a fact I can stay in that mood for days if I don't control it and if I allow it to go far enough it will grow into pessimism and despair. Mr Chesterton (whom I am aware I quote way too much) said in The Everlasting man, that ''pessimism is not being tired of evil but in being tired of good. Despair does not lie in being tired of suffering, but in being weary of joy.'' I never want to get tired in hoping in the good and I never want to end up far enough from God's ways that I'd be weary of joy.

Darkness has a way of presenting itself in all its enormity until it convinces you that there is no light left in the world and if there still is, it's so far away that it will never help you see even your own hand let alone the path. It is loud and it's strong. So strong that you feel like an ant about to be squashed. But to quote Gandalf, 'Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps because I am afraid and he gives me courage.' (J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit)

Those words always put a smile on my face. It gives me hope that I might not be a strong wizard that can fight alone; I might be a ridiculous hobbit, but I can inspire someone to be strong.

I don't need to focus on how powerful and gigantic darkness is. He doesn't know there's a little flame inside me and inside everyone that has believed in Jesus. He doesn't know that we might disagree, we might be scattered all over the world and we look like insignificant dots, but gather two or three of us
and you'll have enough light to keep walking and hoping. Gather enough of us and we might just set the darkness on fire.

So I don't despair. I cling onto The One that has called me to follow Him and I know I won't get lost. 

by Cristina Pop

My understanding

 All day today, I had this Scripture on my mind:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Prov. 3:5-6)

At first it felt like a pebble in my shoe, so I decided to extract said pebble and examine it for a while.

I have heard those verses all my life. Whenever I questioned something about God, the world or me, it was always shoved in my face as a different way of saying 'don't think about it. It's not important that you understand, just think of God and everything will become clear.' And it's a cute theory, but I don't think that's what it means or how things work.

I don't think it's an encouragement to be simple minded. It doesn't mean 'don't try to understand'. I want to understand. In fact I am quite useless in any situation if I don't understand whatever it is that the situation is or what it's required of me in that situation. Not understanding something equals confusion. Ergo, I do not like being confused. But in all honesty, I have been in many situations where, try as I might, I couldn't make sense of things. Try as I might, I couldn't see God's good plans for me. However I looked at a situation, twisted or turned it around, make it sit on its head against the entire Scriptures, I still didn't understand. Those are the times when I chose to recall these verses. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”

Leaning implies a certain inability to sit up straight, or walk straight. So you lean usually against something or someone that can support you. When whatever understanding you have just leaves you a trembling mess at the bottom of whatever happens to hit you, you just decide to stop supporting yourself on that understanding and lean on something that can actually support you. Recklessly, against all self preservation instincts, you reach out and grab onto The Lord.

If you're anything like me, it will seem insane because you KNOW this is not how things work. You've done the math, it doesn't add up. But if there's any seed of faith in you and if you want to keep on walking, you will lean on Him instead of whatever it is you KNOW.

I saw a movie once. A barn caught fire and the farmer ran to go and save the horses. But whenever he was pulling them forward to get out to safety, the horses would pull back because the flames looked bigger than the possibility of freedom. So the farmer wrapped a scarf around the horses' eyes and saved them. That's the mental picture I have every time I wish to lean on The Lord instead of my own understanding. I see the flames and I know I'll perish if I don't move. I see the flames and I know they will eat me up. I know that if I look at what I KNOW is certain death I won't move. So I use a blindfold and extend my hand and trust that He will not let me burn, but guide me to safety.

I don't plan to walk blindfolded through life. I can use my judgement in most situations. In fact it is advised. But when everything fails. Even my ability to differentiate between night and day. When all I want is crawl under a rock and cry about the injustice of life, I chose to blindfold myself and let Him guide me like a blind person, because He knows how much the fire scares me. I am not blind. He knows I am not blind. But I blindfold my understanding until the fire pases. 

by Cristina Pop

About Monty

 I am not the easiest person to be around. I am too opinionated for my own good, I talk too much about things no one cares about, I rarely talk (no need to point out the contradiction), I am contradictory in the things I say, in short I have many issues.

People don't always find it easy to approach me and if they do, they always need time to see whether I am as whacky as I seem. And I don't always take the trouble to make it easier for them and that's my fault. Having said all that, there is one subject that even if breached in my darkest mood will always ensure a good reaction from me: Monty.

Monty is myself in dog form. It's almost a cliché, really. But I don't care. I will not change my statement for the sake of originality.

I love Monty. He's my baby. People smile when I say that, like it's a bit twisted but in my case it makes sense. I don't care. I love Monty.

Now, I did mention Monty is myself in dog form. I did mention I am not exactly an easy person to be around. I will not conclude that Monty is the same because he's perfect in my eyes, and unless you're under twelve in age, you can't help but see his perfection. If you have the misfortune to be under twelve, then he thinks you're prey and we're often in the position where we have to make a hedge around him to protect children from him. He'd be a little mad at me for sharing that about him so publicly, but I trust he won't read my blog.

Monty is a beagle. As a breed, beagles “are gentle, sweet, and funny. They will make you laugh, but that's when they're not making you cry because of their often naughty behavior”. More info here.

Yesterday, Emma and I took him for a walk. When it's just the two of us I always have to hold the lead because apparently I have control issues and I think I can hold onto him better and Emma humors me because she likes to make me think I'm right. Anyway, we went on a walk which it's always an adventure with Monty. The moment we set foot outside, his nose is to the ground and he's in hunting mode and I always get pulled every which way. But I'm in control! So I have a path in mind. Monty doesn't care about the path. I'm not even sure he sees the path. I'm always next to this bush or that tree trying to hold onto him. In my defense, when I carried a little more weight I was able to control him better, now I just look like a flag blown by the wind that is Monty. Anybody that sees us laughs because I'll admit that it's funny, but I resent their remarks.

Monty is the sweetest boy in the world. He's always relaxed (unless there's food around, then all bets are off), he's always playing or wants cuddles. But nobody that doesn't live with us can tell if they see him outside. To any sane person he seems like too much of a handful because they're not aware that he has inside him the power to make three people love him so completely and loyally that we would do anything for him. We all have our own roles in his mind. Daniel is the leader of the pack and he always wants to impress him. Emma is the person he looks for whenever he wants extra food and cuddles. I am another beagle. But we work. It might not seem that way to anybody else, but we work.

While we were on the walk yesterday and I was getting pulled all over the place, I had an epiphany. I saw myself as Monty in my own walk with God.

Whenever I walk Monty I have a plan in mind. I know the path I want to take. Knowing my boy is stubborn and his nose cannot be trusted to stick to the path, I always double check his harness that it's tight enough. I wrap the longest lead you've ever seen around my arm and I decide the length I am willing to give him as to not have him too far away from me that I can't reach him if he stumbles upon a child. I check for poo bags and we're off. The first thing out of my mouth, once we're outside will undoubtedly be, 'wait!'. He will of course ignore me and I will keep repeating it even if I know that by the time we get back, the count will be well in to the hundreds. His nose takes him everywhere and he looks like he's in a frenzy. If I want his attention I have to stop him and call out to him several times and use my playful voice with him, but when he looks up he melts my heart every time because he gets this goofy expression on his face and wags his tail and comes to me with such pure happiness that I know he knows he's loved. But that lasts about five seconds and he's off again. And again I'm getting dragged every which way. We're still going where I want to. But we're a spectacle, to be sure.

Yesterday, Monty has sensed some pleasing scent and dove for it. He went straight to the ground and proceeded to roll in whatever he found. I am familiar with his ways so I pulled him back. It didn't look like anything was on him so we kept on walking happy that we dodged a bullet. We get back home and the 'pleasing' smell was so potent that I had to give him a shower which he takes as if it's a punishment. He doesn't get it that it's unpleasant to humans and doesn't understand why we don't love it. But he's resigned to his treatment. He stays there with his head down, looking all pitiful while I wash him. He thinks I enjoy making him miserable. He doesn't understand how much of a chore it is to wash him. I have to pick him up while he stinks to the heavens. He's quite heavy. I have to fight him to stay in the tub. I get drenched in water and by the time I'm done with him I need a shower. But I clean him because I want to be able to touch him again. Not out of resentment, or unforgiveness, but because I need to be able to be close to him. He is a bit grumpy for a few hours, but then we're back to our usual.

I know I'm a handful for God. But He loves me. For some unknown reason, He loves me. He knows all my shortcomings. He knows I'm not one of those wonderful obedient people that can be trusted to walk pace to pace with their Master. He knows I can't be trusted off the lead because any minute I might bite a child (or some defenseless soul). He knows I am constantly looking for food that He hasn't approved off. He knows I pull Him along with no regard for His arm, just to test how far I can go. He knows that if I happen upon some fox's lovely discarded gift, I will not hesitate to roll in it even if that will make Him angry. He knows I'm stubborn. He knows He'll have to wash me clean for His sake because I won't care. He knows that won't be fun for any of us. But He also knows that all He has to do is call in that voice I know He has only for me and I'll come running and I'll see Him as the sun and the moon and all the stars in one. He's aware that He doesn't have my attention for long, but He collects those moments like some collect Gucci bags. And I am grateful. Only He knows how grateful.

by Cristina Pop

On faith

 I am going to be forty this year. I have been walking with God for some time now. To some, that's a long time, to some not enough to venture into making any kind of remarks about God or faith that can carry any weight. 

To the first I would say some days it feels like a lifetime, to the latter I would say you might be correct but do find peace in the fact that many other mediocre minds imagining themselves to be scholars have had the same audacity and now we're left with some ludicrous theories in the world that no one can erase, so what's one more?

Regardless of my years on this path of salvation, one thing that I have struggled with most was the notion of faith.

Throughout two thousand years of Christian history, great minds and small minds alike, have tried their best to articulate what faith is and how one is meant to go about it. The first thing I have heard when I have first opened my heart to the Gospel was, 'All you have to do is believe'. Even then it felt too good to be true and I knew by then that if something sounds too good to be true, it's not true. But who was I to question the great believers that have shown me the path to salvation?

Soon I have found out that I had to die to my old self every single day. Sometimes multiple times a day! I couldn't just believe my old self away, I had to actively lay down my wishes and wants in favour of the wishes and wants of God. That took action on my part, a lot of denial of my present desires in hope for a future cleaner version of myself and a lot – and I mean A LOT-- of failing to die when I was supposed to. There was a lot of discipline and seeking and not finding involved. A lot of unanswered prayers and soul-crippling battles. Sometimes I had faith, but most of the time all I had was the covenant which I had made with God and I have decided that among the many things I have started and did not finish, my walk with Him would not be numbered among them. Am I saying faith isn't important? Not at all. Faith is important because "without faith, it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him." (Heb. 11:6, ESV) But is faith what we make it out to be? After hitting my own head against the wall too many times to count, I had concluded that I misunderstood faith and whatever faith is, it wasn't what has kept me on the path to glory. Grace was. Grace is. Grace will. His Grace.

 I won't make it home if it's up to me. His mercy and grace carry me. Believing is just the start to the race. It's not the finish line and it's not even the race itself. It's just that gun-shot you hear that alerts you to start running if you will.

Still, everything I hear lately is about faith. Through faith you can do anything. If you have enough faith your finances will miraculously increase. If you have enough faith your cancer will go away. If you have faith nothing bad will ever happen to you. Faith is no longer walking in faithfulness but some spot in your mind that you reach if you focus hard enough and you better fight like crazy not to lose your focus or you lose your faith and then the worst will happen. It sounds like positive thinking and sending good thoughts in the universe because thoughts will manifest themselves into good things for you. It sounds like The Law of Attraction, only the dumber version. Yet, we call that faith! And just to make sure people are convinced, whoever does the convincing throws a few misunderstood verses to make sure you have a guilt trip for questioning THE WORD.

This kind of teaching ends up making you fear to search, to question, to reason and it's no wonder that in the end the Church – and I do mean every denomination – has absolutely no credibility any more. Since the beginning the Church has tried to destroy everything that has dared to question its doctrine forgetting that their kingdom is not from this world, forgetting about how they should "always be prepared to make a defence to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behaviour in Christ may be put to shame." (1 Pet. 3:15-16, ESV) . Such things were childish and naïve to the believers who decided that the entire world should bend the knee to God or die! Such fine ambassadors we have turned out to be!

In placing faith above all else, our creed has become more important than mercy, grace and love. We forgot that even demons believe and shudder. Faith without action is dead. And it will be by our actions that we will be judged not by our faith. And the judgement will start with those who had believed (1 Pet. 4:17)

Should we take a look at our actions?

  The Church came up with the brilliant idea to become inquisitors and burn to the stake anyone that denied in any way shape or form God. All Christian empires tried to enforce Christianity upon whomever they conquered and God help anyone who didn't submit. Christianity destroyed many thinkers and philosophers because they have dared to question things as they have been presented by the Church. They punished where they could not convert with such sense of entitlement that it had turned their so called good deeds into vile oppression. They pushed people with their ignorance until people could not tolerate their audacity any longer. They pushed people like Nietzsche to the point where in order to be able to think he had to declare that God is dead and the Church killed Him. Of course, he meant that the Church and its many ridiculous rules which it has enforced onto whosoever had the misfortune of being in its path has killed God in the hearts and minds of people. He didn't see this as a victory for science (which he also critiqued as being just another form of religion) but proclaimed that now that God is dead, we have to replace Him with some other system. Quite accurately he prophesied that man will replace God with some utopian political system that will turn out to be the death of mankind. And we saw that being realized through the rise of communism and all totalitarian forms of government but that's not what I am trying to address here.

The fact that the Church has managed to bring this about through its entitlement and oppression of entire nations through edicts that had nothing to do with God or the Church as Christ has intended, is the saddest thing that could have ever happen to Jesus' sacrifice.

I can say, 'but that was the Catholic Church, or the Orthodox Church, or the Reformed Church, Anglican Church, not I!' but that would be a lie and I have decided to speak the truth.

It was I. I became an inquisitor in the name of God, but it was really just serving my own purposes. I have burned people to the stake for not believing in my version of truth. I have oppressed and killed in the name of God. I have pushed great thinkers into becoming atheists and even worse haters of my truth because of my own ignorance. I have done all those things because I am part of the Church. Not just the present day Church, but the Church of all times. I am part of the body of Christ and thus I am responsible for everything the Church has done, is doing or will ever do.

The Church doesn't need to change, I need to change. I can't persecute people in the name of God. I can't bully people in the name of God. I can't condemn people to hell because they don't believe in my interpretation of God! I can't gather people around me and chant in unity that God hates gays, or Muslims, or whatever it is I have decided to hate that day. Oh, and isn't it funny how God happens to hate the exact same things I hate? Isn't it funny how God just so happens to dislike the same things that I dislike? Isn't it funny how it just so happens that God loves whatever I love? Could it be a coincidence that God and I are so much alike? Or is it that I have carved an idol in my image and called it God and now I tell everybody what this God loves and doesn't love? And once I become aware of my actions should I carry on with this idol I have made for myself and continue to lie to myself that I serve God while doing so, or should I decide to tell the truth and accept to purge my soul of my idol and follow the one true God? I can't use my faith as an excuse to mistreat anyone that doesn't share my faith because in truth, whenever I do that I do it out of fear. I fear their words and actions because they shake my faith and I need to punish others for my lack of conviction. We have killed Jesus because we have feared His teaching was threatening our ways. We feel the need to destroy everything that threatens our faith. But if faith is true it should not fear whatever question is thrown its way. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. “ 1 John 4:18

I believe! Yes, but my faith doesn't require everyone to share that belief or die.

Faith has put me on this path. And I believed. Oh, how I believed! I believed my sins away. I believed my bad habits away. I believed my ugly character away. I believed every problem away. I have even believed for more faith! All to no avail. I still had all my bad habits, an ugly character and problems but a lot of faith. I thought it was alright because all I needed to do was just believe harder. So I have learned to hide all my shortcomings and to be louder in professing my faith so that other believers would not see and judge me for it. I have learned how to make myself vulnerable in front of my brothers and sisters because they would admire my humbleness. I have learned how to speak with authority and to make myself heard, whether it was in my prayers or in my sermons, so that others would see and admire my great faith. I have even convinced myself that I didn't know I was lying to myself. I wanted to follow God and for people to know that I was following God. Of course I was convinced that I was doing that for the Kingdom of God and for people to be saved, but in truth it was because I loved the attention.

You might think that once I had become aware of it I have stopped doing it, but no. My shameless pursuit was carefully masked by the appearance of faith or what I have chosen to believe faith was. I have no one to blame for this except myself. It is not the fault of some doctrine or other, it's not the fault of some teacher or other because I could have thought for myself at any point but chose not to. I chose to go with the flow. So while I prayed in company of others I crafted prayers that would get the loudest 'amen!' from the crowd, while I was preaching I crafted sermons that would make people marvel at my own righteousness and while I professed my faith I used words that would inspire people to believe.

I had lived that way for a long time. I exhausted myself with playing Christian. I did have moments of sincerity in secret but refused to acknowledge out loud that I was a fake. It felt sincere so what did it matter that it was all fake. Maybe a greater mind would have reached a different conclusion, but I, having a mediocre mind, could conclude only that I had to keep lying to myself.

I have replaced sacrifices to the Lord with praise and worship and would often lose myself in a trance induced by music and good wishes meant to be prayers. I traded obedience to the Truth for praise and worship. I have made my wishes as big as they could get as not to limit the Lord and wished them often in the sight of God under the guise of prayers and wrapped everything up in 'faith' to make them come true. Needless to say that whenever my desires didn't come true I used to turn towards heaven confused and asking 'why?' pretending that I didn't know the answer. Pretending that all I needed was more faith.

It took me a long time to understand the reason why in 1 Corinthians 13, faith is close connected to hope and love. It's because they are similar. Faith should act like love. I had to read it like this:

“Faith is patient and kind; faith does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Faith bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” (vers. 4-7)

If faith does not resemble love it is useless. Faith that is so much like love that you cannot tell them apart. I need that kind of faith, not the kind of faith that is supposed to manipulate God into doing whatever it is I ask of Him.

I was in need of faith in order to accept God as the One that might hold the answers. I was in need of faith in order to hope against all reason. I was in need of hope that once the Truth has found me it would guide me in truth. I was in need of faith to acknowledge my own sinful and wretched condition and my unwillingness to change, truly change once I had become aware of it. I was in need of faith when I understood that I fall short of the glory of God no matter how much I scrub my soul raw to make it clean. I need faith when my endless need to find fault in everyone around makes me forget to look at myself. I need faith when I feel the need to be validated by all the wrong things. I need faith when I make fun of people that are not quick enough to respond. I need faith when I condemn everyone that doesn't subscribe to my own interpretation of Truth to hell. I need faith when I find myself gossiping just because I am bored or because I have nothing else to talk about with the person before me. I need faith that if I start again committed to do better next time even if I should fail, I should fight with all my heart to do better. I need faith in order to stop being so selfish and so greedy and make everything be about me. I need faith like I need hope and love. It is because of faith that I even try again every time I fail at reshaping my soul to fit more divine than I had the day before.

Faith is not magic. It's not the thing you do to get whatever you want. It isn't the excuse I use when I hurt others or force my views upon them. It isn't that extra boost my prayers need to be heard and get things my way. It's the hope that whispers to you in the darkest night when nothing is visible to you any more, not even your own self, “be brave! The path is still under your feet even if you can't see it. You are still on it! Don't be afraid, for the night will end and even if it doesn't, you'll use your hands to feel your way. Be brave! It's worth it! Even if you would gain nothing from this it's still worth it because you have promised you'll walk this path until the end. You owe it to yourself to be faithful. Keep walking! Be brave! He's at the end of this road! Keep walking!” 

by Cristina Pop

Dippity Pig Syndrome

 I had to Google what on earth Dippity Pig Syndrome is. Apparently, the clinical signs include squealing and inability to walk without falling down in the rear limbs. Affected pigs suddenly howl painfully, and fall with the rear limbs extended backward, and the back arched.

Why am I writing about it?

Well, because whenever I feel sorry for myself I watch Rolland, the pig. 

 

I identify with Rolland, as ridiculous as that sounds. Not in the literal sense, but I felt like him many times. That for whatever reason, I woke up and was just in pain and couldn't move anymore. And sometimes it gets so crippling that you just know that this is the end. And I think I would have just waited for death many times if God, in His infinite patience and kindness wouldn't have decided, 'right, if you can't get up I'll make you get up. It will be exhausting for us both, but you'll walk!'

He made a harness for me, held on one side by Himself and on the other side by whoever was willing to put up with my whining, usually my sister, Emma.

Let me just say, if you don't have an Emma in your life, do whatever you must and get one.

She's almost as relentless and stubborn and The Lord. And because I can't always fight back God on account of His enthusiasm, I did fight Emma many times. But like I said, she is relentless. She always takes two minutes to breathe in and then turns around with a smile like nothing happened. She's a cheerleader, my sister. She's praising me for the smallest, most insignificant of achievements that mean absolutely nothing for anyone else, but she knows of my Dippity Pig Syndrome. She knows that something that comes effortless to most people takes me huge amounts of energy and will. So she's like the farmer that is happy that Rolland walks, even as badly as he does, because she has seen me crawling and just waiting for death.

It's painful when you relearn to walk, but I'm sure it's no walk in the park for whoever is holding the harness either. And after their hard work and infectious enthusiasm, the least one can do is not rain on their parade.

So thank you, Emma.

By Cristina Pop

Quote

 

“That a good man may have his back to the wall is no more than we knew already, but that God could have His back to the wall is a boast for all insurgents forever. Christianity is the only religion on earth that has felt that omnipotence made God incomplete. Christianity alone felt that God, to be wholly God, must have been a rebel as well as a king. Alone of all creeds, Christianity has added courage to the virtues of the Creator. For the only courage worth calling courage must necessarily mean that the soul passes a breaking point -- and does not break. In this indeed I approach a matter more dark and awful than it is easy to discuss; and I apologize in advance if any of my phrases fall wrong or seem irreverent touching a matter which the greatest saints and thinkers have justly feared to approach. But in the terrific tale of the Passion there is a distinct emotional suggestion that the author of all things (in some unthinkable way) went not only through agony, but through doubt. It is written, "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." No; but the Lord thy God may tempt Himself; and it seems as if this was what happened in Gethsemane. In a garden Satan tempted man: and in a garden God tempted God. He passed in some superhuman manner through our human horror of pessimism. When the world shook and the sun was wiped out of heaven, it was not at the crucifixion, but at the cry from the cross: the cry which confessed that God was forsaken of God. And now let the revolutionists choose a creed from all the creeds and a god from all the gods of the world, carefully weighing all the gods of inevitable recurrence and of unalterable power. They will not find another god who has himself been in revolt. Nay (the matter grows too difficult for human speech), but let the atheists themselves choose a god. They will find only one divinity who ever uttered their isolation; only one religion in which God seemed for an instant to be an atheist.”

―G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy 

Fire

 

I wrote previously about the allegory of the cave. We don't live in an actual cave. I am aware of that. But we are extremely limited in our understanding of what IS and what IS NOT.

If you are a person of faith you understand your own imperfection and limitations from God's perspective, as St. Paul puts it, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” ( 1 Cor. 13:12)

If you are a person that only takes scientific proof as guiding lights, surely you must acknowledge that we are still extremely limited in our understanding of how the Universe works or even the earth for that matter because we simply haven't been able to go far enough into space or deep enough into the crust of the earth. But we have theories. Thus the allegory of the cave is fitting.

So how must one go about acquiring wisdom in such conditions and how does one know that it is truly wisdom that which he stumbles upon in his pursuit? A lot of things might sound good and important to heed but they have absolutely no substance. The answer is: you don't know. Not for a fact such as a mathematical truth. But as far as I've seen, now keep in mind I only have a mediocre mind, we seem to have inside us some moral innate truths that if followed can guide us. I know that this moral guide inside humans pings differently from culture to culture, from upbringing to upbringing, but at the core of things we all seem to know that killing another human being is wrong, that envy and strife is detrimental, that greed is to be despised and we seem to respond best to kindness unless there is some serious mental illness involved. If morality differs from culture to culture, then so is wisdom. What passed for wisdom for an ancient person is different than what passes for wisdom to the modern man. What passes for wisdom in Uzbekistan is different to what passes for wisdom in Australia. What passes for wisdom to a Muslim is different than for an atheist even if they happen to live on the same street. What passes for wisdom for a social media influencer on a mission to teach us all how to apply make-up perfectly is different than what passes for wisdom for a Harvard professor. What is wisdom to a child is different than what is wisdom to a parent. What is wisdom to a mediocre mind is different than wisdom to a genius. But even so, there are certain core values we all seem to recognize whenever it is being pointed out to us.

I should amend that. We can all recognize wisdom as long as we are ignorant of the source. Because a devout Christian can never, in good conscience, admit that he has found wisdom in the Quran. A good Jew could never admit to finding wisdom in the teachings of Jesus. A good Muslim could never admit to find wisdom in Bhagavad Gita and a good atheist could never admit to find any wisdom in any religion. A professional body-builder can never find any wisdom whatsoever in anything a morbidly obese person has to say. But if one was to hear wise words spoken, especially if they seem to align with some of his own convictions and he was ignorant of their source, they would immediately recognize wisdom for what it is. If foolish pride and ignorance wouldn't prevent us from seeing wisdom for what it is regardless of its source, we might outgrow ourselves. Even I might learn.

So how can one find wisdom in the cave if one hasn't been outside the cave and will never most likely go out of the cave? The only answer I was able to find is that one needs to reach the outside from his own inside.

When one is contemplating the idea that one is living inside a cave and he has reached that conclusion either by hearing someone talking about it or he himself has started doubting the shadows on the wall, one mustn't hurry to take whatever falls at his feet as truth and turn it into building stones to create his inner world with. Take everything you hear or read or see and make a pyre with it and use it as kindle for the fire that is sure to come and set it ablaze. What fire? The kind of fire that one doesn't need to go look for. It is the kind of fire that comes whether you wish for it or not. It is the fire that burns down one's world when faced with pain or suffering or trials of such magnitude that it tilts the very axis of your world and leaves such an impact on your soul that every notion and theory you hung on to so far, flies out the window. Prepare for that day as much as you like. Become an expert and even a teacher about what to do in case of fire, it will still catch you off-guard and helpless. Or maybe it happens only to mediocre minds like mine. Maybe a stronger soul is fire-proof. I confess I do not know. But I take heart having learned from history that people whom I regard as great, have been left speechless in front of the fire once it came. Michelangelo, Boccaccio, Sir Francis Bacon, Voltaire, Rousseau, Napoleon, Washington, and even the greatest man of all Jesus, in his darkest hour began to think God has forsaken him.

When faced with the fire all you can do is let it burn. Don't try to fight it or declare that the fire isn't there. Let it burn. Cry if you have to, be silent if that's your character, scream and even rebel if you must only don't think that the fire only happens to you and don't turn into a victim. The fire comes to everybody regardless of how pretty or ugly, regardless of how rich or poor, regardless of how smart or stupid. The fire doesn't have favorites or enemies. Accept that it comes and all you can do, even if you're a control freak like me, is watch it burn. Be mindful of an old wisdom that says: “If anyone builds (...) using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work.” (1 Corinthians 3:12-13). So take heart knowing that whatever you have built so far, if indeed precious, it will not perish.

You might be left digging through the ashes for a long time to find whatever has survived the fire, but once you find it, then and only then, you can use it to incorporate it into the buildings of your inner world.

I have watched my cherished beliefs go up in flames many times. Things I held as truths and taught them to others as truths only to find that when the fire came those were the first things to burn. And it is hard to watch the fire consume everything in its path, especially when you're the kind of person that needs to fight back in some way. But after many fires and failed attempts to extinguish said fire, all I can conclude is that there is no point in even trying to fight it. The only good thing you can do in advance is to not incorporate untested notions into your inner structure because it might burn your inner world to ashes.

 Whether the things you gather are motivational quotes to get you to move, or positive affirmations in the attempt to control the outside world in your favor, or prayers to whatever deity you pray to, or a pragmatic philosophy that has convinced you to think that you are above mere mediocre minds and nothing emotional can touch you, just wait until the fire comes. Once everything burns, whatever you're left with: that is your truth. It's useless to lie to yourself that whatever has burned to ashes is still real if you would just believe harder, focus deeper or think clearer. All you can do is admit that after being tested, your truth was a lie and move on. Bury it if you must, mourn its passing if it will bring you comfort but don't just stand there trying to resurrect ashes. I might have just a mediocre mind but believe me when I say you can lose precious years of your life trying to make it work just because your cinder is a building block for somebody else. You can use that time trying to find another type of brick. And those might burn as well. All you can do is search and don't be prejudiced in your pursuit. Learn as much as you can from whomever you can. Find your truth and stick to it even if it's cinder to a million people. And most importantly do not fall in love with your own conclusions. Leave room for growth or improvement. Keep in mind that whatever you think you know for a fact now is not complete. There is always room to grow and improve and growth is the only sign you are alive.

I used to be really certain about every carefully crafted theory and I despised anyone that doubted their truth. But fire, that blessed monster of destruction, has revealed to me that Voltaire was right. “Doubt is an uncomfortable condition, but certainty is a ridiculous one.”

Whenever people have been certain of anything starting with wars, or science, racism or religious persecution, the result was another stain on humanity that nothing will wash away. I would rather say that I try to form an educated guess based on what I conceive as facts and I always assume a risk of being wrong, but I take responsibility that I have made my choice. I, myself. Not a divine voice in my ear, not my spotless ability to count my losses, not my scientific proof. I choose. Sometimes biasly, sometimes irreverently, sometimes stupid and sometimes lucky guess, but it is always my choice. I cannot blame God, or science, or other people for anything I do. I try to learn so that I reduce the number of mistakes I make every given day, but I know that my reasoning can only go so far.

I hate the fire. I hate its heat, its smell, its destruction and my useless pleas in its path. I cannot stop it from burning but I can learn to choose better what I gather within me and at least not feed it my possessions or God forbid, my very self.

I hate the fire most because it always forces me to change. And change? Well, I hate change almost as much as the fire.

by Cristina Pop

Reflections of a mediocre mind

Carl Gustav Jung, the father of analytical psychology, was asked by John Freeman in an interview in 1959 if he remembered when was the first time he felt conscious of his own individual self. Jung answered, "That was in my 11th year. Suddenly, on my way to school, I have stepped out of the mist. It was as if until then I had been walking in a mist and I stepped out of it and I knew I AM. I am what I am. But then I thought, 'what had I been before?' And then I found out that I had been in a mist. Not knowing to differentiate me from other things. I was just one thing among many other things."

Like Jung, I became aware of my own existence at a very young age. Unlike Jung, whom upon his own awakening went on to find out everything about his own existence, whether conscious or unconscious and proceeded to translate his findings into facts that revolutionized the way we think about the human mind, I had felt that my awareness of my own existence was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

I tried to observe everything around me and make sense of everything, but not having the luxury of possessing an exceptional intellect, I could not come up with any rhyme or reason for the way things were and for the way I was in relation to them. As a consequence, my awakening wasn't such a pivotal moment in my life as it would have been had I been some genius. By the time I was a teenager I had such a great collection of questions about everything that I was drowning in them. They were not existential questions mind you, but things like why didn't I have wings like the birds, or if an apple tasted the same to everybody, or if tears were squeezed out of one's core with the same pain for everybody. I remember I was spending hours upon hours in one spot looking at the clouds and thinking. I liked my own company even though it frustrated me that I couldn't find any answers. More than one person concluded that I wasn't right in the head but I was too self-absorbed to hear any of that as more than a momentary offence.

I just needed to find some answers. Or better yet, I needed to find better questions. Needless to say, I wasn't successful in my quest so I concluded that it was all in vain. Whenever I had asked a question of people that were meant to teach me, they threw a title of a book at me as if the answer was in there. I had resented their solutions because it felt as if even if they had read the book they suggested, it hadn't altered their mind to the point where they could be bothered to remember whatever answer I was supposed to find in those books, but maybe that was just my mediocre opinion.

I remember when I was in high school and we were studying philosophy it felt like - finally! - finally, I shall have my answers. So I began to read Emil Cioran (Romanian philosopher) whom in my opinion makes Nietzsche look like an optimistic child, and I had started to contemplate suicide with a passion. My philosophy teacher suggested that I should read some Kant or Soren Kierkegaard to find some balance but it was too late. Cioran's ideas of doom and gloom and nothingness had imprinted in my average brain and refused to go away. So I attempted suicide several times, twice ending up in a coma to my mother's everlasting shame. After my failure to even die I concluded that even that was pointless and I should just exist. Oh, and to stop reading philosophy.

I had exited my teenage years as an angsty bundle of confusion. I suppose that's not unusual for a mediocre mind, but due to the fact the mediocre mind in question was mine, it had made all the difference. With a selfishness characteristic to all teenagers that think their feelings trump all others and their experience should affect everyone around them, I had managed to scar many people in my quest to save myself from what felt like drowning waters. But like all ignorant people, I failed to recognize anybody else's pain except my own.

I had stopped reading philosophy but that didn't stop the questions from coming from within me and whatever it was inside me that needed answers refused to hear the same thing, over and over again: I DO NOT KNOW. I had no choice but to admit that I was useless in producing any sensible answer that 'the thing' inside me was demanding so I began to look for someone who might know the answer. I thought I could consider any answers except anything remotely theological in nature. That would have been completely out of the question because any kind of belief was to me the mark of a stupid mind and I had wanted to at least be mediocre if I couldn't be wise.

Being born in a Christian Orthodox country I had the misfortune to be raised in a Protestant household. We were a minority in Romania and I remember how embarrassed I was all the time having to explain at school a belief that I didn't have but my parents were insisting on shoving down our throats. I hated it. I didn't believe any of it. So I was aware of the idea of God but had despised it. I thought I would continue to do so for a long time, but as things turned out, in a vulnerable moment it had caught me by surprise and the idea of all this love seduced me and one day I gave in to it. I thought I had nothing to lose except a few years, but I was determined to give it a fair shot. I was nineteen when I was surprised by Kindness.

Now, I could be unbelievably untrue for the sake of appearing righteous and say that I have found the answer to all my questions the moment I believed, but that's not what had happened. I didn't find the answer to any of the questions I had and I truly believe that if I wouldn't have been in a very vulnerable season in my life and wouldn't have been offered a little rest at that precise moment, I would have never believed at all. My reason and my conclusions, as poorly formed as they were, would have prevented me from ever considering the path I have chosen. So no, my beginning with Christianity wasn't some miraculous understanding of everything. I had merely found other questions and a different setting in which to consider finding an answer.

Becoming conscious separates us from animals. Reasoning, reflecting and meditating are traits that humans enjoy. Conscious awakening is desirable in a human and to some extent most people have a self awareness. A lot hate it so much that they hide it with self confidence or material things to the point that they themselves can't tell who they really are. A lot of people love it so much that they feel the need to shove it in everybody's faces and convince them that they are someone worth emulating. Then there are sages in every culture on earth, people that have reflected from the spot they find themselves in and concluded principles that their culture guide themselves on. Then there are philosophers. You can find them deep in thought on every subject imaginable or unimaginable. They are the loneliest people in the world for they are cursed with an intellect that can articulate whatever ails humanity but can't suffer mediocrity or even worse, stupidity. Sadly for them there are just too many of us!

The world is filled with proof of people's conscious awakening, in religion, science, art, politics, etc. It is desirable for a human to become conscious of his own existence. As for me becoming aware of my own existence was not enough.

I had concluded that the moment I have believed was the moment I had become conscious. Not conscious of my own existence because that didn't have a strong enough impact on my psyche, but conscious of God's existence. To my nineteen-year-old self, the understanding that I wasn't alone has made all the difference. The awareness of God's existence has made sense of mine.

by Cristina Pop

Wise?

 

I have always wished to be wise. Always. Having said that, I don't mean that I didn't wish for anything else. Oh, I have wished for a great many things at different stages in my life.

 My first wish ever had been for my grandmother to live forever. I must have been around five years old when I wished for that. When I was seven, I wished to forget having followed a line of tanks during what was the 1989 revolution in Romania. Until I was about ten years old, I wished to feel as free as everybody else. We were not Communists anymore. We were free. I didn't even know what that meant, but they were saying it on the TV, in schools, in churches and I just didn't see it, let alone believe it, so yeah, I wished to feel free. When I was about twelve, I wished to be someone else, someone better than I perceived I was. When I was about fourteen, I wished with all my heart to be beautiful and I very much feared I was not. When I was about fifteen I wished with all my heart to be rich. By that I don't mean having a yacht and a chauffeur. I didn't know how to imagine that, but I wished to never lack anything. To me that was rich. When I was about sixteen I wished to be a great singer and I was heartbroken to find out I couldn't even hold a tune. When I was eighteen I wished to stop being afraid. When I was in my twenties I wished to be loved. After thirty I wished to be able to love myself. But regardless of how many things I have wished for in my life, I have always wished to be wise.

I remember being a child and hearing about King Solomon and how he had prayed for wisdom and God had granted it to him alongside riches and everything else. I thought to myself, 'that's what I want!'. So I began praying for wisdom and didn't understand why I wasn't wise. Then I started thinking that God sees all things and He saw that in my heart of hearts I had prayed for wisdom only to get everything else alongside with it and He must have despised my cunning nature, that's why I was as obtuse as they come.

I feared stupidity and ignorance more than anything. Well, not quite. I feared snakes more than I feared stupidity. But still, the point is I didn't want to be stupid.

For the longest time I thought that wishing to be wise was the same as being wise. I had thought that my part was simple. Wish for it and pray for it and miraculously I would become wise. I even added faith to my prayers to ensure I would be extra-wise. I had so much faith that I could envision myself being this guru-like figure that people would seek advice from and marvel at how wise I was. There is a Romanian saying, 'the fool who is not proud, is not foolish enough' and I could have been the poster-child for that saying. It took me many years to understand my own foolishness.

If wisdom would be so easily attained, then the entire world would be wise. I would be wise by now. But instead I had to first understand that wisdom doesn't come by way of an angel coming from heaven and touching my forehead declaring in a loud voice, 'behold, now thou art wise!' I began pondering the possibility that maybe wisdom is something you seek continuously. But how to seek and where? Is it limited only to some people or can anybody become wise? Does wisdom engage only one's ability to reason and accumulate information about important things or is it more than that? Does it suffice for one to be above average intellectually speaking? If so then there is no hope for someone like me and I refuse to accept that regardless of how ridiculous I might sound.

In Plato's book The Republic there is an image that has helped put things into perspective for me. The scene is set as a discussion between Socrates and Glaucon. Socrates begins by asking Glaucon to imagine a cave-like dwelling under the earth. There are people living in this cave since their childhood, shackled by their legs and necks in such a way that the only thing they can see is the wall in front of them. Because they are shackled they cannot turn their heads around but they do have a little bit of light coming from a fire that is behind them at some distance. Between the fire and the prisoners' backs there are statues and puppets paraded by puppeteers. Some puppeteers are speaking and some are silent. Whatever is paraded in front of the fire casts huge shadows on the wall that the prisoners see and whatever noise they hear behind them they imagine it comes from the shadows they see. Socrates continues to ask Glaucon to imagine what it would be like if any of the prisoners was to be unchained, made to stand up, turn around, walk and look up toward the light. The prisoner would be able to do all that only with great pain. The light would hurt his eyes and would be unable to look at those things whose shadows he previously saw. What would he say if someone were to inform him that whatever he thought he saw before were mere trivialities but now he was nearer to actual beings and that now, turned around as he was, he saw things more for what they truly were? Wouldn't he be quite lost when he would see the puppets for what they were? Wouldn't he be hurting if asked to look at the glare of the fire, so much so in fact that he would wish to run back to his previous place in front of the wall wishing to go back to a state were he had felt so sure of everything known to him? And if he decided to continue wouldn't he decide that whatever he saw now, regardless of how fantastical it might seem, was clearer to him than what he had previously saw? Glaucon agrees. Socrates continues his parable by asking Glaucon to imagine still what it would be like if the prisoner would be dragged outside, even by force and made to look at the world outside the cave. The prisoner would be in pain and in rage at his plight but after a while, after his eyes would get accustomed to the light, he would begin to see the things around him and draw conclusions about the sun and its function. Now once he has seen all these things the prisoner might start to remember the cave and what passed for wisdom in the cave and feel sorry for the other prisoners. “However, what if among the people in the previous dwelling place, the cave, certain honors and commendations were established for whomever most clearly catches sight of what passes by and also best remembers which of them normally is brought by first, which one later, and which ones at the same time? And what if there were honors for whoever could most easily foresee which one might come by next? Do you think the one who had gotten out of the cave would still envy those within the cave and would want to compete with them who are esteemed and who have power? Or would not he or she much rather wish for the condition that Homer speaks of, namely "to live on the land [above ground] as the paid menial of another destitute peasant"? Wouldn't he or she prefer to put up with absolutely anything else rather than associate with those opinions that hold in the cave and be that kind of human being?

GLAUCON: I think that he would prefer to endure everything rather than be that kind of human being.

SOCRATES: And now, I responded, consider this: If this person who had gotten out of the cave were to go back down again and sit in the same place as before, would he not find in that case, coming suddenly out of the sunlight, that his eyes ere filled with darkness?"

GLAUCON: Yes, very much so.

SOCRATES: Now if once again, along with those who had remained shackled there, the freed person had to engage in the business of asserting and maintaining opinions about the shadows -- while his eyes are still weak and before they have readjusted, an adjustment that would require quite a bit of time -- would he not then be exposed to ridicule down there? And would they not let him know that he had gone up but only in order to come back down into the cave with his eyes ruined -- and thus it certainly does not pay to go up. And if they can get hold of this person who takes it in hand to free them from their chains and to lead them up, and if they could kill him, will they not actually kill him?

GLAUCON: They certainly will.” (Republic, VII 514 a, 2 to 517 a, 7 - Translation by Thomas Sheehan)

I think I was in my twenties when I first heard about this allegory and I remember thinking, 'I am definitely the prisoner who has seen the light!' My first clue about my own stupidity or pride or both should have been quite obvious. But it wasn't. It took me a very long time and even to this day I am still accepting the fact that I am just one who sits in the cave forming opinions about the shadows on the wall. No doubt that any person of science will imagine that those in ignorance of his science are the prisoners. Any philosopher will feel that he has seen outside the cave and those that don't understand the depth of their philosophy are prisoners. Any man of faith will imagine that their belief has set them free and the unbelievers are the prisoners. We're funny like that. I'm funny like that. Nobody likes to admit to their own limitations. We like to think we draw the right conclusions whenever we assess anything we deem important. I want to know that I am not wrong about the important things in life. I want to believe I see things now as they will be forever and I forget I am only seeing shadows on a wall. Sometimes I argue or even debate about whatever I see passing before me. I can't see properly and most of the times I am not even aware of my own lack of sight. I only know the other prisoners by their loud or timid voices. I band together with those whose opinions I share about certain shadows and I hate those who disagree. I am ignorant of certain shadows on the wall because I can't see everything from where I stand and envy those that have a better spot. I judge prisoners as successful or failures by how much dirt they manage to gather with their shackled hands. I study about what other prisoners have turned into science by observing the height of the shadows and the noises we think are coming from them. I cower in fear whenever the shadows change their pattern and rejoice when they are acting according to my expectations and call that 'divine inspiration'. I bow in respect to whatever passes for knowledge and scuff in disgust like a good prisoner at anything that doesn't make sense to me without even considering the possibility that I might be wrong. I am afraid of questioning the shadows because I don't want to be weirder than I already feel. There are endless theories made by prisoners concerning the shadows and even the wall; philosophies about our purpose in the cave and even accounts of some who claim to have been freed and went outside and I don't know how to distinguish truth from fantasy. After all I am not wise. I fear to even listen to the 'lunatics' that claim they have been outside the cave when I am not even convinced we are in a cave in the first place and that the ornaments around our legs and necks are shackles.

Would I go so far as to kill one that would come to preach salvation from my cave? I like to think not, but I already have. If not in deed then certainly in spirit. The Son of God.

 I don't like anything that feels like it's about to attack my 'values'. I am a proud prisoner after all, ignorant of my cave. I like to imagine that whatever I happen to believe at any given time is the 'right thing' by the very fact that it is I who believes it. I leave no room for maybe because uncertainty scares me. I need things to be in black or white and whenever I make room in myself even for a little gray I feel like the most liberal-thinking person on earth. So of course I want to kill whoever wishes to oppose my carefully crafted opinions because it feels that by questioning them the one issuing the oppositions is trying to kill me. For all the love I preach, it is an eye for an eye after all. Well in my case an eye, an arm, a lung and the liver for one questioned theory. Is there any hope for me?

             So I begin reflecting about everything I feel is important from my cave and whoever reads this should take everything I say with a grain of salt because the only thing I know for a fact is like Socrates, that I don't know anything. Whatever conclusions I might reach are bound to be flawed in some way first by my own ability to reason perfectly and second by the very narrowness of my circumstances. But deep down inside I feel that my current condition is not all there is. I feel there must be something else, something I can't see which makes me doubt. And doubt is uncomfortable so I try my best to find something to distract me. A little stone that crawled as by divine hand all the way to me, a stick, anything, just to forget and keep watching the wall. After all it's wise to watch the wall carefully and learn the patterns. And I do wish to be wise. 

 by Cristina Pop