Letter to Bishop: what leads me to respond

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God,

thou wilt not despise.

Ps 51:17

2 - what leads me to respond

I laid in an empty room of a recently-rented apartment, forty miles from any friends or family.

Instead of furniture, there was the sound of frogs croaking in the backyard pool. My body pulsed with over-exertion from the walk upstairs. I laughed. Even if I had wanted to continue working the breakneck pace of the past three years, my body wouldn't allow it.

Instead of blessings, I counted the wonderful elegance with which things had been taken away from me: Six weeks before, my car and belongings were stolen. The day following, our approaching wedding canceled by my fiancee. Meanwhile, the progressive deterioration of my health that had started nine months earlier. The tapering of calls from concerned friends and family removed any obligation toward them. The utter comprehensiveness of loss felt strangely beautiful. I felt my body pulse and buzz, and peaceably readied myself for death.

Hmm, God reminded me. Hmm, there was one thing that hadn't been taken away, but had been strangely supported where things might easily have failed: the letter for scholarship money covering my expenses; the lucky securing of the last available campus apartment in my price range. God was opening one door, only one, while all others quietly shut on rooms full of death. I saw a singular beacon of light beaming through the decay.

"All things come of thee, o Lord." And when only one thing is given, there is little question remaining about what God has created for us. From this stark and unforgettable experience in mid-June of 2005, my priorities were clearly laid out for me. All things involved in bringing and sustaining me at Harvard, and which God had waiting for me there, were the focus of my life. Everything else could be left for dead.

In that beacon of light, God built for me a bridge past a life that otherwise had ended. On the other side of that bridge, now, I am His alone, and every action or decision gets weighed in consideration of the work He has shown as laid out for me. Some involves long-range goals and academic projects; other work involves daily devotionals of ministering to individuals for whom God has found me. As surely as I can tell, one of those acts is unashamedly declaring myself a servant through Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit of the One True God. With or without ordination, when I remember this, my energy is restored to keep on living. If ever I become sidetracked, death begins to set in again.

My early struggles as an acolyte against hesitant sermons or stultified congregations first awakened my passion for work within the church. This led to crises at each major life-path decision that did not honor what felt like the call to Seminary. After college, responses to a desperate letter to all the pastors who had mentored me through my life assured me that when the call was true, I would be able to answer it without anxiety. Meanwhile, I pragmatically challenged the idea that a young man, practically untouched by tragedy or the complexity of adult life and relationships, could have anything to offer a congregation. Secretly, privately, I welcomed such growth experiences into my life.

The crash of two jet airplanes into the World Trade Center while I slept in New York preceded by two months the discovery in my blood of a fatal and unknown disease. In three months, doctors finally confirmed that the source of my profound debilitation, my 14-hour nights of sleep, and my layoff and relocation back to Seattle was a rare bone marrow disorder known as Aplastic Anemia. For the next three years, I found dependence on my family, practices of yoga and Eastern healing, and a long conversation with God about what I was doing wrong, or how much I should even take responsibility for my illness and its healing.

Ironically � some would say � stories from the Bible became more accessible to me from my yoga practices than through Church itself. Through experiencing and learning to live within the laws of energy, I found principles quoted by Jesus and experiences of the Apostles in Acts to be for the first time understandable. Over a period of months, every sermon and reading delivered at Bethany Community Church in Greenlake recapitulated a lesson I had experienced in the yoga studio, just the week before. I began to accept that the One True God was working in all the world, and was recognizable by faithful people through many vocabularies.

The quality of worship exploded tremendously for me while practicing yoga! At pastors' prompting, I knew now how to let go of my doubt and resistance, and trustfully welcome the Spirit in through my brain, my heart, my complete body as an opening to faith and renewal. Suddenly, there was no need to question or wait for the proof from God about how to know or believe in Him truly. I knew plainly from those feelings of grace, deep cleansing, assurance, and inspiration that I encountered at every service! What before had been a vague affinity for church buildings, community, and attendance now showed herself to be the Holy Spirit, who had been working through my numbed body and brain all along!

With thankfulness, I had no doubt any longer about taking up the gauntlet to investigate a call to ministry. What remained unsolved were only minor questions about the church or denomination to facilitate the inquest. With fond amazement at the workings of God, I found that God had actually placed me in the right church over 16 years earlier; that my mother's best friend, who had lovingly saved me from a near-crisis by taking me into her home, had recently been ordained as a Priest in the Episcopal Church, and that one of the newest Episcopal congregations in Seattle turned out to be the first church I have ever felt was a home to me. It is no exaggeration to say that the church home at COTA feels as much like a family as the two beautiful families who raised me and nursed me through my sickness.

To answer more briefly: I can never say to know for sure the scope of God's plans or vision through the actions He takes in the world and our personal lives. Yet I answer my congregation's call to ministry because, to the best of my ability to discern, God has plans for me in this role, and has seemed to be preparing me for it quite intensively over the past seven years. I accept it happily because it may be the only thing for which He keeps me alive.

I answer the call to ministry in sober acknowledgment of the challenges facing the church today. Echoes of political struggles destabilize our polity, and a new generation addicted to stimulus, proof, and mistrust finds less of value among church offerings. Firsthand work managing yoga studios has shown me what people will pay for tangible improvements to their physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Consistent with my experience, my God-given vision involves creating safe and sane ways to incorporate body-mind practices into liturgies, so we may better minister to societies for whom the disconnection of their souls from God is intimately related to sedentary lifestyles, distraction, and a disconnection between their minds and their bodies; and between the lives they deeply long to create in harmony with the Spirit and what they successfully realize.

Sincerely,

Andrew Varyu

5 Jan. 2006

Prepared for Bishop of the Episcopalian Diocese of Olympia

Statement from Aspirant to Postulancy Andrew R Varyu

Submitted Epiphany, 2006

one of the twenty words for snow

I wish the destruction of her house.

I wish the luscious flames to consume it in snowfall.

Her smile and shining foreheads of her family in the prarie

Turned to ash, tossed to breeze

wretched in its own disease.

Silence. And Howling: the wind through empty doorways.

A field on which to lay myself

And freeze my naked brittle sheath

To cracking shatter frost and gloom

where fragments of my loss maroon

on frozen blood spat underneath

Bound up in twisting coils of stale,

One of the twenty words for snow

now lays me down and throws away

the thoughts that haunt me everyday

of winter smiles in that old house.

spiritual pleasures of the body

don’t know if you’ve noticed

but millennia of church fathers

and other spiritual leaders

have been saying bad things about the body

like it’s a block to spirituality, a distraction from God,

sinful

well they’re wrong

we have a spiritual body

that overlaps with our physical body

if we don’t love our bodies with reverence,

allow them to feel good, treat them with love

we won’t be spiritual

this is literal;

spirit can flow down through our limbs,

tickle our toes.

after a good sleep: feel the warmth, the comfort.

now instead of jumping out of bed, move your fingers

rotate your ankles, squeeze and stretch and wriggle your feet

slide your shoulders, twist your spine

and feel the spirit starting to caress you from the inside

keep moving and enjoying this body

and you will feel the peace of God finally inside of you.

Jesus said eat his spiritual food; not stop eating food.

he wanted us to feel the spirit through our bodies

this way we can know God’s peace

but if we keep what we have of Spirit only in our minds,

and deny the body,

we will never know for sure

God will remain a possibility, a nice dream,

but we will never feel the peace in our hearts,

the faith in our guts

to make us sure.

God must go everywhere

if we say She is everywhere but the body,

if we do not let her into our bodies,

then She cannot empower us to act

and we cannot be God’s people

The spiritual pleasure of the body

behaves differently than the physical pleasure of the body:

The physical pleasures come as compulsions;

the spiritual pleasures as peace.

The physical pleasures are enjoyed and leave us empty;

spiritual pleasures resonate; they can last forever.

This is why Jesus said you will not hunger,

you will not thirst.

The body is compulsive

only when it is starving for God;

if you gently let God into your body

with enjoyed, regular acts,

the compulsion of your acts will go away.

Your body will become infused with Spirit.

In your every act you can let God in,

but if you do not find God in your physical movements and sensations and processes,

then your body becomes sinful.

Keep your body moving. Don’t forget about it,

don’t let it stagnate, even while reading, Don’t distract

yourself from your body by reading or thinking too much

while you exercise. While you move your body,

be conscious of, experience it. Enjoy it.

Enjoy God in your waking, your walking,

your hugging, your cleaning,
your breathing, your eating.

let your enjoyment of your body
be your praise

celebrate your body
as a creation given by God
as much as nature
or any bible.

if you have no idea what I am talking about,

I suggest you try yoga for a while.

Whale - orig June 5, 2005

do you think if I were dying

you would have wanted to stay?

out of complacence, duty, brevity of commitment,

intensity that shadows the world,

a calling to the higher,

a chance to be in control?

would you die with me?

a part of you was dying anyway.

would you plunge to hell to drop me off

and return to wipe the sweat from your brow?

do you want to collapse me, fold me,

and keep me in your soul? You are free to roam,

deliver me, be the whale and I Jonah?

Why insist to marry me

before the transplant?

Twice?

Why did you want to be a widow

but not my wife?

Why did you leave after

I called the transplant off?

Why promise to come back if I go to the hospital

no matter what?

Was I really so terrible

that life together seemed unbearable?

Now if I am dying,

do you regret what you’re missing?

If I promise to die,

Will you hold my hand and finally

let me see into your eyes?

Whale

do you think if I were dying

you would have wanted to stay?

out of complacence, duty, brevity of commitment,

intensity that shadows the world,

a calling to the higher,

a chance to be in control?

would you die with me?

a part of you was dying anyway.

would you plunge to hell to drop me off

and return to wipe the sweat from your brow?

do you want to collapse me, fold me,

and keep me in your soul? You are free to roam,

deliver me, be the whale and I Jonah?

Why insist to marry me

before the transplant?

Twice?

Why did you want to be a widow

but not my wife?

Why did you leave after

I called the transplant off?

Why promise to come back if I go to the hospital

no matter what?

Was I really so terrible

that life together seemed unbearable?

Now if I am dying,

do you regret what you're missing?

If I promise to die,

Will you hold my hand and finally

let me see into your eyes?

2005

A Better Bride...

re: A Better Bride

Thanks Andy,
ever since yesterday I am getting cetain kind of giggle at the thought
of loving God in that way,
like a challenge is being presented. Get's the fire going ya know.
and of course you can use my letter.

I must admit I feel the sense of divine femanine and am humbled and
opened to new feelings and opportunities. But still, I retreat back to
thinking of God as the mean parent, and me trying to be all I can be
for that image and also more so rebelling against it.
As I was reading that I kept thinking what courage it was taking to
love God this way, actually there are parts of me saying "you can't
love God that way, it's wrong!"

But there is a more tender part that is also longs to have that
relationship, actually tears are coming up and that presence of knowing
is coming up as I write this, how could a person offer this and yet I'm
so convinced that that is where I will find it, maybe I need to aproach
Jesus as a soon to be lover. Once again courage comes to mind....




A Better Bride

I am getting married tomorrow.

The suits are bought. Date is set. One year ago I started paying off the ring. Each payment, each month, I have readied myself deeper to be merged, to shed the solitary freedom into which I was born, and to let my life join with another. I have readied myself, and my soul has expanded to encompass a broader two.

Three weeks ago, my fiancée called it off.

But still, I am getting married tomorrow.

I have found a New Bride.

See, I was ready to be married. My soul had expanded, and was ready to be stretched further by the negotiations of partnership. Upon the cancellation, my heart plummeted, threatening to pull the fabric of space-time back to a collapsed grimace of torture and self-agony. The void was built of absence, within my ready-to grow soul. Rather than return, I decided to fill that void.

I found a New Bride.

In the next two weeks, I had two propositions. Both, from outsiders, urgently needing citizenship. One has a child. One is a loner. Both, the substance of fantasy: two of the most stunning, fabulously sexy women I have ever seen. One Japanese-Hawaiian. The other, a Romanian who looks and sounds Italian and is called Argentina.

So which did I choose?

Neither:

I found myself a Better Bride

Tomorrow I am going to Church. I will walk in, silently. The room will quiet; I will ready myself. And after the processional, my Bride will enter. Down the aisle. Step by step. I have been preparing, for a long time. She will take Her place next to me. We will begin Our vows.

Tomorrow, I marry God.

* * *

When I text message God, I don’t have to wait for Her to get back to me.

Or worry that my message is obsequious, intrusive. Her response is instantaneous, and She’s always glad to hear from me.

I am not alone driving home anymore. My New Bride is with me. The moment I drift lost in my own little world, I look over and there She is, hand on my arm. Reassuring, knowing. That when we get home, we are going to make mad, passionate love.

The thrill of marriage is in the sharing. Someone who will excite at the discoveries I made, the wonders I find. I celebrate Scrubbing Bubbles^(TM), and any new products or methods that make cleaning the bathroom that much quicker and easier, and more likely to get done. I think my partner at the time had a hard time sharing my excitement. But my Bride is right there, knowing just how cool it is.

If She tells me to slow down, take a rest, She doesn’t do this from a judging distance. She has sidled next to me, and I rest my head.

God can feel the depth of the music I found, tune into the layers of syncopation, mastering, genius of my new CD. The value is not lost on Her. She’s right there with me.

God has Her own shit going on, a life outside our marriage. And she’s dedicated, involved. She gets her shit done in a day. But she’s got it under control. She fixes it to be home when I pull in, if she wasn’t already working with me. She helps me take a load off, then we share about our day.

She’s confident, but realistic, about how things went. And some days, it wasn’t the greatest. But I believe in what She’s doing. And when She’s preoccupied with the pain and suffering that slipped into the world that day, we cry together on the kitchen floor.

She doesn’t do the laundry for me. But better, She does it with me. She helps me see the joy of sharing every step of the path.

And She knows how I like to be touched. With warmth, confidence. She could pleasure me – and Sometimes she does. But in Her touch there is love, which warms through my flesh and heals my soul. Every night from now on, we will share deep, warm, luscious kisses.

Someday, to keep me fresh and alive, She will invite another woman to share our bed. She’s not a jealous Lover, so long as I’m keeping Her first. So she will find a beautiful, amazing lover to come and soak up some of the Love We share, and together we will have an incredible threesome.

There is no predicting what life will be like. What fates will draw us, and where. But I am enraptured, enthralled, and I will follow Her anywhere. This is a soul-connection, felt from before time. We will never die. For every death helps me shed and merge closer to Her. Every shredding of body, or rending of soul. The more I bleed, the more openings there are for Her to cover, wash. I fear not death, when I will patiently, finally dissolve. Her cup, with me, runneth over.

the body rock

looking down
as I'm lathering up

my round, fully engorged calf muscle

more healthy than i remember it

clear, flowing lines defining my thigh
rather perfect

fondling between my toes
isn't it intersting - i think -
that this is the part that will waste away,

deteriorate, dissolve.

my body,
that i had forgotten about.

Forgotten to look at
while I have used it.
It became a vehicle,
not an object.

It actually,
becomes
nothing

when we focus on a goal
our attention on the working.
I can feel it, daily.
Eyes closed,
from the inside.

But I cannot see it.

When I slow down
when I notice it failing, struggling

when I think about it
Then it comes back to me:
an object for my focus.

A problem, to be solved.
Just like all those years worrying
about its shape and form,
Is it a body that will be attractive when older?

Is it a body that someone will want to have sex with?

A project, to perfect.

A perfection reached only when I forgot about it.

Tariq tells a story. He is incarcerated. He held thirty cops at bay by gun in a mall parking lot.

The end of three days on the run.

The end of ten years in hiding.

In his story, while running, his description adopts a telling tone:

"I was running. I was flying. I was flight.

I hadn't eaten in days. My leg was hurt. But then, there was no pain or hunger.

There was no body driving that van. There was no van.

Just me and the road."

His body dissolved from the picture
when he was entirely focused on escape.

Our bodies will dissolve when we die.
But can we make them do so before then?


We cannot perfect our bodies by focusing on them.
We cannot improve them by taking pride in them or worrying about them.
We can only make them best when we forget about them.
Focus instead on your goal.
Let the body dissolve from your story.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
Do not store up your treasures here on earth.
Because when we focus on the form of the body, on the earthly things, they only become heavy.
They become worse.

Instead, store up your treasures in heaven.
Feel your body from the inside. Feel your flight.

Your body is the temple of heaven.
So enter into it.

We cannot change our bodies by focusing on them.
Nor can we change the world by focusing on it.
Focus on your goal
an un-earthly goal.
Do your work for the growth of heaven.
Focused on heaven.
Your body will be perfect.
Earth will become perfect.

Creating the kingdom of heaven here, by you.

Don't look at your body: feel it.
Don't look at the world: feel it.
Be in it. Experience. Connect. Without your critical mind.
For the kingdom of heaven is among us
hidden beneath the forms

Close your eyes
Bring heaven to the forefront.
Create it
by feeling it.

I love you.