tantric

The Daily Beast is reporting how a Russian city, with the support of senior leadership, has banned yoga, citing practitioners for cult-like behaviour. Taking the statement in a glancing, off-the-cuff manner, it does strike one, especially those among the trendy-set, as getting into a furore over jazzercise. As the article demonstrates, however, as it looks beyond the established and familiar health benefits into its holistic history with mental, spiritual and even political faces, it becomes manifest that certain regimes might find this lifestyle contentious. Though I would side with those who’d prohibit the practise only insofar as we can’t selectively embrace some aspects without appreciating what those techniques are rooted in—just as karma is no cosmic-cashbox, I would also think that those antagonists (this Russian town not being a singular instance and other religious groups object to the direct or the vaguely spiritual side of it) would benefit greatly from those treasonous influences.

nave and apse

Globe-trotting photographer Richard Silver has developed and perfected a technique to capture the panoramic sweep of the beauty and majesty of the ceilings of churches and cathedrals. Too big to be contained in one image by the usual methods, these vertical wide-angle shots certainly don’t diminish the scope and grandeur of the architecture (to a much greater affect than pictured here and maybe a little better behaved than crawling around on the floor vying for the right position—places of worship are meant for another type of crawling around on the floor), with a dizzying quality that feels almost circular but they are certainly places all to visit in person.

ra-ra-rasputin, russia’s greatest love-machine

I am not sure what impression that I had formed of Grigori Rasputin beforehand other than him being some creature of the court of the Romanov’s—maybe a charlatan, and spiritual-healer and advisor to (and perhaps lover of) the Russian queen. Aside from the biography presented in the lyrics of the Boney-M song, I only based my knowledge of the so-called Mad Monk from the passages in The Tin Drum where the little hero’s mother is similarly enchanted by Rasputin’s story and led down the road to ruin.

The truth will assuredly remain elusive and buried in legend and speculation. The first precept that Rasputin’s religious conversion and consequently his supernatural powers for curing the sick and prophesy is tied to his homeland in Western Siberia—an ungoverned province and the cosmopolitan gossips of Petrograd must have surely been susceptible to stereotype and suggestion. Supposedly, there was an orgiastic cult of Christian fanatics, devoted to getting it all our of their system so that they could eventually come to abstinence and salvation honestly. People were convinced that Rasputin had come from this tradition and I am sure greatly magnified any sign of hedonism to a scandal and augmented supposed diabolical powers—including that he was invulnerable to attack, having survived quite a few assassination attempts. Rasputin  may have been wielding soft-power from Petrograd and had the ear of the emperor for his own benefit to an extent.
It really struck me, however—given that the belligerents of the Great War were almost all a part of one big family feud—oh bother, there’s Cousin Willy sounding off again, no member of the royal houses were heard to say a word to stop the fighting, save for Rasputin, who foretold the end of the Empire—though perhaps already obvious to the neutral observer. I had also assumed that Rasputin was executed by the Bolshevik revolutionaries along with the rest of the Romanov family, but—and again, the true reckoning is obscured—His Majesty’s Secret Service, it seems, either pulled the trigger or at least provided the weapon in the assassination of Rasputin in the thick of the war in 1916. Rasputin’s warnings to the Romanov’s maybe were dissuading the Russians from entering the war, and with the tide shifting in favour of Imperial Germany in that year, the British knew that they could not hope to contain them if they were only challenged on their western front.

iconodule

Celebrated on the first Sunday of the Great Lent (1 March, this year), the Feast of the Triumph of Orthodoxy celebrates the restoration of icons, holy images, to the Church, and the victory of the iconodules—those who venerate images, the iconophiles over the iconoclasts who considered the practise idolatry.

The service that takes place in churches on that day has come to present the defeat of heretical thinking in general but the mass remembers a historic event that took place in March of 843 when the icons were returned to the Hagia Sophia. Recursively, an icon was created to illustrate this auspicious event. I had always believed that the iconoclasm was an internal matter and one could easily imagine disputes arising, as they continue to do, over the sacramental nature of holy objects—whether they help the faithful to focus their attention or are vain distractions, but it seems that the division arose and sides were taken due in part—at least, to mounting outside pressures: with the rapid expansion of Islam—who were strongly against any human or divine imagery of any kind, the Church began to reassess its position. Did these Muslims, who were making inroads on Byzantine territory and even threatening Constantinople itself, have God’s favour because they had roundly rejected graven images? As above, the debate—and often violently continues—within and without.

epiphany, theophany

The feast of the Epiphany—or Dreikönigstag as it is known in German, celebrates the arrival of the Magi to greet the infant Jesus and marks the twelfth day of Christmastide. On the eve of the holiday, priests bless frankincense (Weihrauch), gold that decorates the church and the chalk used to inscribe the initials of the Three Wisemens over the thresholds of the community, the names Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar also being an abbreviation for Christus mansionem benedicat—“may Christ bless this house.” One of the original purposes behind this pageant was to publicise the date of Easter and thus the liturgical schedule of the new year, before the availability of calendars. Eastern traditions also observe a similar feast on 6 January—though the Julian calendar in the present century is thirteen days ahead of the Gregorian one, though it is called Theophany, which is closer to the Greek source word meaning God’s shining forth.
Among other solemnities, which include priests making the rounds to homes of parishioners, the Orthodox priest will also bless a special batch of holy water that’s known as the Waters of Theophany and shared from the fount by the faithful. A greater ablution will take place afterwards, with a procession proceeding to the nearest natural reservoir, a lake, a harbour, and a cross will be cast into the water. In Greece particularly, this is done to calm the waters and make it safe for sea-travel after the stormy winter months and disperse the gremlins called καλικάντζαροι that bedevil ships. Parishioners will dive in to retrieve the cross and return it to the priest for a special blessing.

ped x-ing or hand-jive

The X in X-mas comes from an initialism of the Greek name for Christ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ, a shorthand employed by Biblical scholars and others to abbreviate things to do with Jesus or the Cross (writ both large and small—Celtic monks in Germany monasteries incidentally invented a lower-case script with punctuation for the Greeks to make reading easier) and these signs and signals are reflected in the iconography of Jesus and the saints in hand-gestures that amount to a sort of finger-spelling. These poses, each understood to audiences in a specific way, were in turn a traditional and long-established system of rhetorical gestures used by speech-makers in Antiquity to cue their listeners to something important or to mark a transition.

A parallel supplemental language is to be found in the mudrās of the Buddhist tradition, which while having symbolic significance in their portray are moreover a kind of digital yoga, each pose and arrangement having a specific mental and physical influence on the practitioner—not to say that these similar gestures, used as rites and sacraments, ingrained in Western depictions of religious figures do not necessarily have a more profound meaning and stimulus about them, as well, nor that Eastern orators and choreographers do not have a vocabulary for grandiloquence in speeches neither.

gaydar

Surely intolerance breeds intolerance, and no brown-skinned person is not subject to a host of speculation and profiling—or downright unwelcome for asylum-seekers, whenever in public in a place where he or she is other than the majority, but redoubling efforts do not solve prejudice.
Rather blamelessly and unabashed, a certain ministry of health official has boasted that their country has developed a screening- tool, a conflated medical test of undetermined techniques, for homosexual, transgender and cross-dressing potential visitors in order to deny them entry to the that country and the broader states in the region. The country, already heavily reliant on guest-workers, requires medical testing for applicants and proposes to simply add this to the battery—for a population attracted by the often disappointing lure of employment for people from desperate lands, without the luxury to be otherwise, where stigmatised for real, perceived or rejected identities. It's a dicey subject that has not been without other champions to a greater or lesser degree, but I don't think such a stance is really representative of any diaspora, where discrimination is no gateway to respect. Besides, it seems that we all ought to have learned how dangerous such a path can be and not something to dismiss.

iconostasis

Over the weekend, we had a chance to see the interior of the Memorial Church of Saint Alexy of Moscow that Kaiser Wilhelm II commissioned to honour some twenty-two thousand Russian soldiers who perished fighting Napoleon’s armies during the decisive “Battle of the Nations,” that stopped the French advance. The living monument, center of the Russian orthodox community of Leipzig, was dedicated in 1913, a century after the fighting ended, and the exterior is undergoing reconstruction—along with the Volkerschlacht Denkmal, in recognition of this year’s anniversary.
The inside of the church, which is duplicated on an upper and lower storey, symbolic of Heaven and Hell, has an impressive array of icons covering the back wall (an iconostasis) and donated fixtures, including one faithful reproduction of the Hodegetria (the iconic canting of “she [the Virgin Mary] showing the way”) of the Mother of God of Smolensk, that tradition holds was painted by Saint Luke and made its way from Constantinople to Russia via a very circuitous route.
According to different sources, the revered icon was destroyed either during the Russian Revolution that followed just a few years later or during the German occupation in 1941. The relic, however, could have been hidden for safe-keeping as its own copy, like some of the other treasures originally plundered from Byzantium.

good saint nick

There are quite a few superstar saints but I think it is a challenge to find one with a more universal following and elaborate traditions than Saint Nicholas. Santa Claus or Father Christmas is a distinct and perhaps a bit of a derivative character, and while not just some corporate stooge, brainchild of Charles Dickens and Coca-Cola, nor ambassador of globalism as he’s sometimes unfairly made out to be, should not be confused or unused interchangeably with the original. The rituals that commemorate his approaching feast day (6. December) have intricate and escapingly elaborate basis in episodes of the saint’s life and enduring influence, and though abstractions and in some cases misunderstandings, I think that this level of detail and heritage keep the holiday and what goes with it inviolate and not usurped by commercial interests or whittled away. The weirdness and confusion of the holidays keep them intact and alive. Nicholas, whose name means “victory of the people,” was a bishop in Myra, Lycia (now Derme, Turkey) and was known for his great charity and playing secret-Santa for the needy, especially for finding creative ways to help those too proud to take hand-outs.

One story tells of a poor peasant who could not afford the dowry to marry off his three daughters, so decided to sell them into prostitution. Nicholas tried to get the father to reconsider but the man saw no other future for them if they went unwed, but reused the church’s overtures for assistance. Instead, under the cover of darkness, Nichols smuggled three purses of gold, one for each of the daughters—according to some sources, by dropping the coins one by one down the chimney and into their stockings drying over the embers in the fireplace. The iconography that generally accompanies portrayals of the saint is an allegory meant to recall these events, and over the centuries, the purses of money or coins came to be represented as three golden balls. People in the Netherlands seeing this depiction thought they were exotic oranges, which explains why one often gets these fruit for stocking-stuffers, and assumed Nicholas was from Spain, which also accounts for the indeterminate number of Moorish helpers who accompany him on his visits, although some say that they are not dark-skinned but rather sooty, owing to the whole connection with chimneys, that are there to judge the naughty and the nice and steal bad children away. The Bavarian counterpart, the anti-Saint Nick, is a monster called Krampus who is likewise along to expose awful kids. In France, the bad cop to the good cop following Nicholas on his rounds, is a reformed by formerly cannibalistic, mad butcher called Père Fouettard, referencing another wonder attributed to the saint: during a famine, a butcher lured three young boys (or in some versions, students) into his home, promising shelter but he slaughtered them and put their dismembered bodies in a barrel to cure and to later sell as hams. Nicholas joined the search party for these lost youths and confronted the butcher and saw through his deception, probably on account of the unexplained hams. And like Circe in reverse, Nicholas restored the youths. The butcher repented and followed Nicholas since. Patron of many occupations besides, from sailors, traders (hence the Dutch knowing about Spanish oranges) and thieves to students, pawnbrokers and children and for many places from Liverpool to Palestine and from Aberdeen to Malta, Nicholas does more than give good gifts.

a moveable feast

 We were a little late in decking out the Easter trappings this year, so there has not been some much time to enjoy them, but of course the holiday hadn't passed us by. Easter itself is a very strange fusion of Christian, secular and pagan traditions and certainly makes for an awkward alibi and accounting, should humans ever be called for testimony in an alien court of law.

Peeps--sorry, can't begin to explain what that one has do with Easter Sunday. What makes it even more extraordinary, and impenetrable like with the non sequitur and surreal rituals, is that the date of Easter can vary so widely, so as the holiday escapes one sometimes, and is figured using a complex, alchemy of maths called the Computus. This method not only previsions computer science, algorithms, matrices, all these correcting factors that make modern Western calendars fit to a lunar one are very much like the cosmology of Ptolemy, who, while acknowledging a sun-centered universe would be more straightforward, sought to preserve the appearances of a geocentric model with all sorts of celestial wheels, gears and cogs.

Getting the liturgical dates right in general, counterbalanced with the cycle of the Moon and the observable equinoxes and the odd Leap Year, helped keep annual occcurances meaningful, coinciding with Spring, Mid-Winter, etc., and guard against slippage and calendar migration that would eventually, glacially led to Easter overlapping or falling before Christmas. That holiday would be a bizarre affair to decorate for.

grecian formula

Earlier this month, coinciding with the announcement by the Greek government that there will be no further austerity measures, which lead to riotous protests, to recalibrate the country's economy--I hope that Greece is right and reforms are on pace with recovery, and they are forced to sell any islands or mortgage their cultural heritage to corporate sponsorship, the Hephaisteion all covered with advertizing like a race car--Vanity Fair reporter Michael Lewis embarked on an odyssey from the business centers of Athens to the remote and autonomous, monastic state of Mount Athos to try to gain some insight into the culture that yielded the Greek financial crisis. This article is really intelligent and an interesting read, and while the monks are not precisely sibilants or oracles themselves, their financial acumen is to be respected and their squabble over a swap of formerly mediatised church lands may have brought unwelcome and glaring transparency to the entire Greek market.  Mr. Lewis was able to exercise his journalistic instincts, despite and perhaps because of, as a guest in a place couched with history and tradition.  Maybe the crucial lesson is in his introductory paragraph, when he speaks of Greeks stopped being Greek and Icelanders wanted to forego fishing to become investment bankers during the financial collapse: there is a very Greek term ἐνέργεια, that is being-at-work-staying-the-same.