My dad, the writer, English teacher, artist, educator, dedicated father, husband and friend wrote (upon my request) about "kavod". Those moments in his life when he sensed, there was indeed an Other-invested Creator and Friend. Strangely enough, my birth was one of these moments for him.
According to him, it was a major awe-filled moment in life; one where holy was undeniable. He's told me this story a time or two, like most Pops would. However, this time, I read and took my breath away. Regardless of what I think of his faith or his practice of noticing the "hole-ly-ness" of life (which I happen to admire greatly)...my dad thinks, thought and continues to perceive my birth as sacred.
Having never witnessed a birth, it's hard for me to imagine exactly what goes on step-by-step but Megan the Midwife has convinced me, it's worth the show. But, if forced to imagine, here's what I come up with. Imagine the most painful, moment possible-multiply it by 10-add an audience of strangers and increase your vulnerability to the max and there you have it. Birth.
Mom says she went into training. Delivery training-she insists is necessary. Regular glasses of water. Pregnancy work-out videos, chic peas and maybe some pink tights. She was dedicated. Makes sense. She had waiting for two years and resigned her job to ensure she was ready to carry a little one into the world. Like all children, I haven't always been grateful in the ways I should be, but according to her I was a very well-behaved napping, sleeping through the night sort of baby. I'd say that counts as some sort of gratitude....
I still feel as if this sort of wholeness, holiness or sacredness is a little out of reach. So I guess, I need to bring it down a notch in order to feel like I can touch it. Most people know this about me, I need to see it to believe it. My professors would agree. One time, Scott tried to literally make me touch it- Katie's placenta after Evie's birth. While I was honored with such an offer, I respectfully declined while shamelessly staring at the sac full of life.
For me, I think kavod the wholeness, the holiness we long for makes us feel squeamish. Kinda like the sac. We know it's full of life, the possibility of change, newness out of pain-but to reach out and feel it... uh, we're just not so sure. This week I was reading Desmond TuTu's, "The Forgiving Book". In this simple read of a story, he proposes forgiveness-the release of responsibility of one's oppressor is essential for the unbuntu nature of our shared humanity. He makes no claims that it's easy, he and his daughter provide personal story to show you the way yet, it still feels out of reach.
Holiness, forgiveness-universal ideas shared not just by Orthodox Christianity but by many religions and dedicated wholeness seekers. I've found these words to describe several life experiences and yet, when I'm out of the time of trial or less under fire the day-in-day-out stuff catches my attention more readily. So here's where I think it's all at.
It's not every day we witness a birth (unless your Megan the Midwife or Audrey the Doctor) so most us have some trouble sensing kavod. Sometime we get to visit or grandparents and because they have lived way longer than us, they seem closer to the untouchable ideas but often they just seem human, earthy, full of beauty and what some may see as a bent towards self-even in their 90's.
If this is true, these ideas of wholeness or forgiveness just must have to be something outside of us. They have to be something gifted whether we are worthy or worked hard enough or said the right prayer or did the pre-pregnancy pink-tight work out. They must be like incense and mur, the untouchable, undeniable gift from a far which break into our stables and manure-filled inns lifting us beyond what we could imagine. These moments, aren't the lasting kind-I've decided but they're the kind which bring courage for the next awkward donkey ride into town to pay for our car tags because we had to leave the car at home for fear of getting pulled over on our way.
You know what kind of day/ride I'm referring to; the kind where you know the whole shameful mess could have been avoided if you simply followed the rules or religiously kept up with the potential fees you could be slapped with in the game of life. Simultaneously you're beating yourself up (not literally of course) and extending grace to yourself because you've been caught up in more important things like eating, sleeping, working, etc.
So, if I was asked for my definition of kavod it'd go something like this: the random moments when we feel fully awake and realize the Other is on our side. For good.
According to him, it was a major awe-filled moment in life; one where holy was undeniable. He's told me this story a time or two, like most Pops would. However, this time, I read and took my breath away. Regardless of what I think of his faith or his practice of noticing the "hole-ly-ness" of life (which I happen to admire greatly)...my dad thinks, thought and continues to perceive my birth as sacred.
Having never witnessed a birth, it's hard for me to imagine exactly what goes on step-by-step but Megan the Midwife has convinced me, it's worth the show. But, if forced to imagine, here's what I come up with. Imagine the most painful, moment possible-multiply it by 10-add an audience of strangers and increase your vulnerability to the max and there you have it. Birth.
Mom says she went into training. Delivery training-she insists is necessary. Regular glasses of water. Pregnancy work-out videos, chic peas and maybe some pink tights. She was dedicated. Makes sense. She had waiting for two years and resigned her job to ensure she was ready to carry a little one into the world. Like all children, I haven't always been grateful in the ways I should be, but according to her I was a very well-behaved napping, sleeping through the night sort of baby. I'd say that counts as some sort of gratitude....
I still feel as if this sort of wholeness, holiness or sacredness is a little out of reach. So I guess, I need to bring it down a notch in order to feel like I can touch it. Most people know this about me, I need to see it to believe it. My professors would agree. One time, Scott tried to literally make me touch it- Katie's placenta after Evie's birth. While I was honored with such an offer, I respectfully declined while shamelessly staring at the sac full of life.
For me, I think kavod the wholeness, the holiness we long for makes us feel squeamish. Kinda like the sac. We know it's full of life, the possibility of change, newness out of pain-but to reach out and feel it... uh, we're just not so sure. This week I was reading Desmond TuTu's, "The Forgiving Book". In this simple read of a story, he proposes forgiveness-the release of responsibility of one's oppressor is essential for the unbuntu nature of our shared humanity. He makes no claims that it's easy, he and his daughter provide personal story to show you the way yet, it still feels out of reach.
Holiness, forgiveness-universal ideas shared not just by Orthodox Christianity but by many religions and dedicated wholeness seekers. I've found these words to describe several life experiences and yet, when I'm out of the time of trial or less under fire the day-in-day-out stuff catches my attention more readily. So here's where I think it's all at.
It's not every day we witness a birth (unless your Megan the Midwife or Audrey the Doctor) so most us have some trouble sensing kavod. Sometime we get to visit or grandparents and because they have lived way longer than us, they seem closer to the untouchable ideas but often they just seem human, earthy, full of beauty and what some may see as a bent towards self-even in their 90's.
If this is true, these ideas of wholeness or forgiveness just must have to be something outside of us. They have to be something gifted whether we are worthy or worked hard enough or said the right prayer or did the pre-pregnancy pink-tight work out. They must be like incense and mur, the untouchable, undeniable gift from a far which break into our stables and manure-filled inns lifting us beyond what we could imagine. These moments, aren't the lasting kind-I've decided but they're the kind which bring courage for the next awkward donkey ride into town to pay for our car tags because we had to leave the car at home for fear of getting pulled over on our way.
You know what kind of day/ride I'm referring to; the kind where you know the whole shameful mess could have been avoided if you simply followed the rules or religiously kept up with the potential fees you could be slapped with in the game of life. Simultaneously you're beating yourself up (not literally of course) and extending grace to yourself because you've been caught up in more important things like eating, sleeping, working, etc.
So, if I was asked for my definition of kavod it'd go something like this: the random moments when we feel fully awake and realize the Other is on our side. For good.
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