Happy Day

Hiller scrutinized the label, bristling with umlauts, graves and serifs, and failed, again, to discern their meaning. Each morning followed this same progression: Hiller would pour out the contents of the “Happy Day” box into a glass and linger over the incomprehensible labeling before crumpling up the container and throwing it onto the summit of recyclables that was mounting in the corner of the kitchen. Buttressed by the refrigerator on one side and a kitchen cabinet on the other, the burgeoning mass of land-fill-to-be was spilling out, onto the kitchen floor. As part of a winter doldrums, Seasonal-Affective-Disorder prevention promotion, the “Happy Day” boxes were festooned with rubberized labels that could be peeled away to reveal promised loot, mostly home-based audio-visual equipment, but sometimes deliverance from the enveloping grayness of exhaustion and dissipation of winter in Zombograd. Deflated and flattened, a home theatre system, a moped, an all-inclusive trip to Goa and a three week, intensive program of Zomborian lessons laid beneath the un-peeled labels, unclaimed and awaiting recycling. Hiller returned to his inescapable daily miasma.

Byzantium

An odd thing occurred to me while writing this entry, that four out of the five continents start with the letter A: Africa, the Americas, Antarctica and Australia. Some would argue that the Americas should be considered as two continents. Perhaps, Europe and Asia should also be considered one continent, Eurasia, but then Australia becomes so small by comparison that perhaps it should not be considered a continent at all. It's further of interest that Europe gets first billing in the Eurasian super-continental moniker, given that Europe is the size of the combined four western Canadian provinces. For interests of illuminating my story, I'll stick with my original classifications.

Last summer, I happened to be in Midland, Ontario, simultaneous with the unveiling of the new icon (see above), commissioned by the Archdiocese of Toronto for the Holy Year (2008) of the Apostle Paul. The Shrine of the Martyrs, where the icon was unveiled to the public for the first time (conveniently the same day I poked my prodigal nose through the apse) and commemorates the establishment of the Jesuit Mission in North America. You really ought to watch the joint Canadian/Australian production "Black Robe". I'm sure it's available at your local, urban, Canadian or Australian public library. Blessed are the librarians. After consulting with the presiding Jesuit, I snapped a few shots of Saul of Tarsus, a.k.a. Paul the Apostle. I'm pretty sure I was the first of the laity to snap the photo. I had been aware of icons prior to Midland, specifically the famed example in the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, perhaps the most famous rendering of Jesus from antiquity and I'd been interested in the Jesuits since a newly acquainted Evangelical priest shook my hand for the first time, handed me a book by a Jesuit liberation-theologian who worked with the homeless in Portland and proclaimed; "You really need to read this book". Jesus, what a long time ago. How did he know? So, quickly: the Jesuits are the scholars of God, meaning the God of the Catholic Church (not to be confused with a/the "catholic God" or "universal God". Yes, I meant to type a small "c"). I actually gave the vocation some serious thought for a few days, as recently as Jan. 2008, but given my anti-papist leanings (I'm a tacitly adherent and tortured Lutheran), I decided against it. Celibacy is over-rated.

On Wednesday, I'll be traveling to Istanbul with the Varsity Boys Basketball team (an artifact of American High School jingoism). It seemed like a pretense for heading east, almost into Asia. In fact, so I am told, you can take public transit from the European side of Istanbul, across the Bosporus, into the Asian side of Istanbul. I suppose bagging a continent should be a little more arduous, but I'll chalk Asia with this trip. Growing up in Vancouver, you get a pretty thorough exposure to Asian culture. In April, I'll be driving to Morocco, which will leave only the last two, and perhaps most challenging, of the A's: Australia and Antarctica. There are no international schools in Antarctica, but cruise ships do call there. I'm not sure I'll take any pictures when I'm viewing the Hagia Sophia, as so many exist already. I suspect the Hagia Sophia needs to be felt, in the sense that you need to be present to grasp its full magnitude. I think space can be of great importance and as significant as the icon of Jesus is to culture, an argument could be made for the building itself ranking of equal importance. I think these places need to be felt as much as seen. Never was this more evident to me than Boxing Day of 2007, when I sat, solitary, on top of Temple V at the Mayan ruin of Tikal. Tucan flew, mist was exhaled by the jungle into the morning sun. I was overcome by the need for everyone to sit, solitary, in the place that I found myself and feel life outside of time unfold.

I have to pack now, but I wanted to share one final thought. Find an image of the The Deësis mosaic of the Hagia Sophia on the internet; it's probably the most photographed image of The Christ, certainly within the Eastern Orthodox tradition. I'm not a photographer and, frankly, I think it profane for me to snap a shot of a 1500 years image of Jesus. I knew this opportunity was going to come up eventually and I've been thinking about what I can share of the experience with you and it's not a photo. I will simply be present in one of the architectural wonders of the world, one of the great religious icons of our Judeo-Christo-Islamo age and try to relate the feeling of being present to you.

While I'm away, go check this out:

http://www.blackvelvetjesus.blogspot.com/