Showing posts with label Persecution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Persecution. Show all posts
Saturday, May 6, 2017
CMDS 2017 - True Treasure, living gospel values in the medical community and culture at large, Pastor Dan MacDonald
Pastor Dan Macdonald: True Treasure , living gospel values in the medical community and culture at large
{I arrived late and missed the song that preceded this first plenary session of the day. I did however join near the end and heard the whole question and answer period, taking these brief notes to capture a sense of what the talk was on. I think this gives a taste of what goes on here. I’ve been coming to Christian Medical and Dental Society Meetings for a number of years and as well as leading clinicians it’s not uncommon for pastors to be speakers. Pastor Dan MacDonald was a lawyer before he went on to do a Masters of Divinity. He is now senior pastor at Grace Toronto Church. He is an astute observer and outstanding speaker and obviously very spiritually blessed and devoted to his service. (I had work to complete this morning then I walked from my hotel to this hotel , the long way, through Toronto of my childhood, a beautiful city, the financial and art districts. I lost track of time so enjoyed the walk and the beauty of this city.)}
How many of you are too busy?(All hands go up)How many of you are not busy?(5)
Your culture demands that doctor’s be busy.Our culture demands that a carpenter be busy.But demands a doctor be much more busy.
Referee for yourself.
When I looked at my own business and how I was building a practice,I saw that I was working more hours for more money and materialism was at the base of it.Ask about the spiritual principles
I know why I’m busy.I have an idol of respect and I want respect so do more work to get more respectI work in field of judges, lawyers, professionals all of who are busy
Ask yourself about your business? Is this what nurtures yourself spiritually as a Christian.
Persecution?Is it wrong to pray for persecution to go away.No But that was not all.In the New Testament they fled persecution.They had fear in Jerusalem and fled and spread the gospel.
Cultural ShiftShift away from Judea Christian beliefs.All the old traditional culture believes are being denounced.The new academics are being turned to instead of the judges, lawyers, bankers and now doctors.
Technology is changing the worldNew arguments of medicine will be whether someone’s 30% machine is true.
As Christians we need to get together in the medical world and decide how we may face this new culture in a godly way.
Pessimism - feeling nothing we do can make a difference?
You are going to have to navigate the doctor patient relationship.Your fiduciary relationship with patients is not our mission fieldYour colleagues may be
When you you obey God and practice civil disobedience?When the culture asks you to sin, you obey God.When your culture asks you to kill babies you obey GodWhen your culture asks you to murder, you obey God.
Civil Disobedience needs to be more than doctors, engage your pastors and Christiens.There is a community that is being discriminated against.In Alabama the whole community marched.The Gay community enlisted the larger community The Jews came together.
We as Christians have been very bad at this Because we’ve been living in the remnants of the Judea Christian cultureWe Have not realized we are in a post Christian environmentWe need to learn in a Post Christian community what the Jews learned, the Gays learned, the Blacks learned, that we need solidarity
Ask for the courage to bear up under persecution.
Get your church involved in advocacy.
WitnessHow do you prepare yourselfWell I ask , how did you prepare to be doctorsYou readStart with water cooler advocacy Read “Reason for God”You don’t need the high level Christian apologeticsYou need to have ‘water cooler answers’ really simple well thought out books
Moving from comfortable pew Christianity to activists.
We must learn the courage to speak boldly.
I say there is no room in Christianity for complacency.If you think so then REPENT.
We have false gods-sex, power, status,
God is sovereign. The more people who share their faith the more people come to God.It’s numerical.
You sow where you are. You will reap there.
The guys who want you to be a good Jewish doctor will talk to you. They won’t talk to meYou can influence them. You can talk to them. Introduce them to Jesus.
I was a lawyer, I influenced a court clerk I worked with as a young doctor.
Friday, May 5, 2017
Nightmares, fear, truth and lies.
I awoke at 4 am, sick with fear. I am again facing threats. Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness. I am falsely accused. The lies are heinous. I’ve been here before. But the dreams are of those who held me hostage and brought guns to point in my face, knifes to thrust under my chin, to make their point. The bold faced long necked lies are more insidious. The greed that drives deceit is more deeply disdainful. Last year was particularly trying, the death threats and the threats to kill my dog when a former dog had already been sacrificed. I still refused to comply with extortion.The extortion is the same. The punishment follows the refusal to reward deceit.
I am here at a conference of doctors. Others are speaking of their fears. It’s becoming universal. Except for the elite or perhaps the mediocre. So many shudder, the ripples felt as uneasy laughter, voices kept low in hope that no one hears whispered conversations. Stand up and you make yourself a target. I am disheartened to hear of doctors who have left their community because they are not allowed a conscience. They are purposely being subjected to means to break them. There is no compromise. Christians are persecuted all over. More so, these days of aetheist communist control and sharia language restraints. To speak is to blaspheme except for the chosen. And who are the chosen. That debate sizzles.
I am by contrast criticized for transparency. There are no secrets in our society today. I once “hacked" into the places where all the personal records recorded by governments were left open to all because then anyone could, legally, look. Security cost and though I was offered pay I didn’t want to address the mess. They had not seen the need to protect the privacy except their own because they wanted easy access instead. Repeatedly I fought repeatedly for confidentiality till the matter became irrelevant. The illusion of privacy is just that, our government and countless agencies for business and even nefarious designs spy on us continuously. Wikileaks has told us what we all know, that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Sexuality and private communication were once sacrosanct but no more. The RCMP, FBI, NSA and all manner of public agencies spy on citizens routinely. They pay lip service to maintain appearances. In hospitals the privacy at all levels except the top is like the gown afforded the patient. There is pressure on the courts for transparency now. We need the full context of body language and secondary communications that slant all information to understand any verdict. The back rooms prevail but only with bugs and cameras strewn around them. .
Transparency is the only protection, really. We live in a glass house. We are only protected by the truth. Relative truth is the illusion. We know the media skews truth for profit. Memories are false in hours or days and yet individuals insist their memory is true. Then memories are fought back and forth before referees little different from those who wear black and white stripped shirts in soccer matches, convene. It’s always political. Outcomes are bought or won. The rich prevail. The winner writes history. All strength remains with the State, the King, the Big Man, the Big Woman. Families and tribes compete. Nation states are struck down. The rule of law is little respected when truth is no more. Alibies are maintained by tribes and gangs. Groups and primitive structures that predate nation states prevail. Individuals are sacrificed or crucified. Virgins, the young and so often Christians and especially Jews have always been the favoured entertainment in the games. Animals and gladiators play to a different sort.
I am always anxious. I am more anxious older. I have served a society that once wanted law and order but the very structures of that old group are now torn asunder. The pedophiles I saw locked up will have their revenge on me. The liars are more powerful each day as the power shifts to celebrate the mob. Marches upon marches define the present. A media chosen spokesperson with camera angles and lighting lies. I’m not a marcher. I’m afraid in large crowds. The young and physical prevail in war. I was promised protection. I was bred a hot house plant. Old, academic, scholarly, a doctor, I have no more place in this physical fray.
The campaigns to smear celebrate the actors and actresses. I wasted my time in libraries and labs. The gossip mills were training new men and women when I was in the morgue. I have consulted the dead while reality tv was teaching debates. I am a minority view. I am a marginalized citizen. There are favoured groups but my own group held onto truth like Shrodinger’s cat, lucid dreaming and fractals.. The world is any way you slice the pie. Perceptions are self serving and compete by force.
I cling to the remnants integrity. I have been violated sexually. I have been violated physically. My morality has been questioned. I have studied ethics ad infinitum if only to be aware in the increasingly unethical and uncultured world I live in. My RCMP friend said she joined the force to be a crime fighter but left when all she was allowed to do was be a crime recorder. I feel a kindred spirit as we increasingly are called upon to promote disease by any other name.
I am tired in the morning. The nightmares return and disrupt my sleep. I struggle to remain. Suit up and show up. Do the next right thing. I resist the allure of self pity by exercises of constant gratitude. I thought block constantly. Prayer and thanksgiving. I seek to forgive but it’s always hard to be forgiving as one is ducking arrows. The nature of the work is in the midst of competing factions, more confused and confusing as the day goes on. The armchair Monday Morning quarterbacks and the space station dwellers debate your worth. Any moment you can be collateral damage or cannon fodder. There is no concern above. Middle management is a casino, the players vying to skim the genius from the games to give back to the House. The higher one climbs,the more bodies one leaves behind. The greater the right to privilege and the more one is willing to do to keep the status.
I’ve come and gone. I’ve given up millions and turned down millions. I’ve walked away and wondered if I’m meant to be a monk or if honourable death is better to the constant grind of facing people who want you dead so they can steal and take what they feel entitled to. They would have your experience without the time in chains. They would have your reputation without the life of shame. EE Cummings called them ‘those people’. Leonard Cohen spoke of the game, that ‘everyone knows”.
We are rats in a maize. Advance cockroaches in a dream. Monkeys with minds and nice hair dos. The question is truth and the judge claims to know this. Bsseut increasingly all he holds is the gun and jailor’s keys. There are no Solomon’s in the drug addicted hoards. Consensus is a commodity. The guillotine is Occam’s razor. The one who fears most is left standing in the end. The paranoids are proved right as Freud said.
And I am only afraid as long as I forget. Anxiety is a measure of one's distance from God. So again I turn and trudge towards Bethlehem.
I am here at a conference of doctors. Others are speaking of their fears. It’s becoming universal. Except for the elite or perhaps the mediocre. So many shudder, the ripples felt as uneasy laughter, voices kept low in hope that no one hears whispered conversations. Stand up and you make yourself a target. I am disheartened to hear of doctors who have left their community because they are not allowed a conscience. They are purposely being subjected to means to break them. There is no compromise. Christians are persecuted all over. More so, these days of aetheist communist control and sharia language restraints. To speak is to blaspheme except for the chosen. And who are the chosen. That debate sizzles.
I am by contrast criticized for transparency. There are no secrets in our society today. I once “hacked" into the places where all the personal records recorded by governments were left open to all because then anyone could, legally, look. Security cost and though I was offered pay I didn’t want to address the mess. They had not seen the need to protect the privacy except their own because they wanted easy access instead. Repeatedly I fought repeatedly for confidentiality till the matter became irrelevant. The illusion of privacy is just that, our government and countless agencies for business and even nefarious designs spy on us continuously. Wikileaks has told us what we all know, that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Sexuality and private communication were once sacrosanct but no more. The RCMP, FBI, NSA and all manner of public agencies spy on citizens routinely. They pay lip service to maintain appearances. In hospitals the privacy at all levels except the top is like the gown afforded the patient. There is pressure on the courts for transparency now. We need the full context of body language and secondary communications that slant all information to understand any verdict. The back rooms prevail but only with bugs and cameras strewn around them. .
Transparency is the only protection, really. We live in a glass house. We are only protected by the truth. Relative truth is the illusion. We know the media skews truth for profit. Memories are false in hours or days and yet individuals insist their memory is true. Then memories are fought back and forth before referees little different from those who wear black and white stripped shirts in soccer matches, convene. It’s always political. Outcomes are bought or won. The rich prevail. The winner writes history. All strength remains with the State, the King, the Big Man, the Big Woman. Families and tribes compete. Nation states are struck down. The rule of law is little respected when truth is no more. Alibies are maintained by tribes and gangs. Groups and primitive structures that predate nation states prevail. Individuals are sacrificed or crucified. Virgins, the young and so often Christians and especially Jews have always been the favoured entertainment in the games. Animals and gladiators play to a different sort.
I am always anxious. I am more anxious older. I have served a society that once wanted law and order but the very structures of that old group are now torn asunder. The pedophiles I saw locked up will have their revenge on me. The liars are more powerful each day as the power shifts to celebrate the mob. Marches upon marches define the present. A media chosen spokesperson with camera angles and lighting lies. I’m not a marcher. I’m afraid in large crowds. The young and physical prevail in war. I was promised protection. I was bred a hot house plant. Old, academic, scholarly, a doctor, I have no more place in this physical fray.
The campaigns to smear celebrate the actors and actresses. I wasted my time in libraries and labs. The gossip mills were training new men and women when I was in the morgue. I have consulted the dead while reality tv was teaching debates. I am a minority view. I am a marginalized citizen. There are favoured groups but my own group held onto truth like Shrodinger’s cat, lucid dreaming and fractals.. The world is any way you slice the pie. Perceptions are self serving and compete by force.
I cling to the remnants integrity. I have been violated sexually. I have been violated physically. My morality has been questioned. I have studied ethics ad infinitum if only to be aware in the increasingly unethical and uncultured world I live in. My RCMP friend said she joined the force to be a crime fighter but left when all she was allowed to do was be a crime recorder. I feel a kindred spirit as we increasingly are called upon to promote disease by any other name.
I am tired in the morning. The nightmares return and disrupt my sleep. I struggle to remain. Suit up and show up. Do the next right thing. I resist the allure of self pity by exercises of constant gratitude. I thought block constantly. Prayer and thanksgiving. I seek to forgive but it’s always hard to be forgiving as one is ducking arrows. The nature of the work is in the midst of competing factions, more confused and confusing as the day goes on. The armchair Monday Morning quarterbacks and the space station dwellers debate your worth. Any moment you can be collateral damage or cannon fodder. There is no concern above. Middle management is a casino, the players vying to skim the genius from the games to give back to the House. The higher one climbs,the more bodies one leaves behind. The greater the right to privilege and the more one is willing to do to keep the status.
I’ve come and gone. I’ve given up millions and turned down millions. I’ve walked away and wondered if I’m meant to be a monk or if honourable death is better to the constant grind of facing people who want you dead so they can steal and take what they feel entitled to. They would have your experience without the time in chains. They would have your reputation without the life of shame. EE Cummings called them ‘those people’. Leonard Cohen spoke of the game, that ‘everyone knows”.
We are rats in a maize. Advance cockroaches in a dream. Monkeys with minds and nice hair dos. The question is truth and the judge claims to know this. Bsseut increasingly all he holds is the gun and jailor’s keys. There are no Solomon’s in the drug addicted hoards. Consensus is a commodity. The guillotine is Occam’s razor. The one who fears most is left standing in the end. The paranoids are proved right as Freud said.
And I am only afraid as long as I forget. Anxiety is a measure of one's distance from God. So again I turn and trudge towards Bethlehem.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Meteora, Greece, Dec.2012
Holy Meteora is called the Monastic City of Rocks. Geologist theories different about the origins of the rocks, cones of deltaic origins which underwent a process of gradual erosion caused by river waters flowing down from the nearby mountains. I'm sure my nephew Andrew might add to this. Whole books have been written about these incredible rocks whose colours change throughout the day depending on the position of the sun. I couldn't help but think my photographer brother, Ron Hay, would have a wonderful time here.
Historically, the earliest monks began retreating to the rocks as early at the 9th century due to local pogroms and also to escape constant raiding of different marauding groups who descended on this rich farming area to pillage and plunder. Barnabus and Andronicus, founders of the monastery of the Holy Ghost and the Transfiguration, arrived in 970. The Monastery of St. Stephen had a plaque dating it to 1192. By then anchorites were organized under a father Jerimias. Later assistance was extended to the monasteries by the Byzantine Emperors. Byzantine royalty who considered it their duty to God to participate in the construction of a church or monastery to which they would then donate works of art, relics, icons and ceremonial garments.
The monasteries flourished for hundreds of years until the 17th century when turkish Governor Ali Pasa, Lion of Janina, spared no effort to eradicate the spiritual centre of those "unfaithful' to Allah. Finally in World War II the monasteries were bombarded by enemy air force. Since then the Greek Ministry of Culture and the Church of Greece have undertaken extensive renovations
In winter months there are days when the monasteries are closed. Having my own vehicle I was able to drive by the major eight monasteries and enter five of them. St. Barbara, St.Stephen, Holy Trinity, and Grand Meteroron were the ones I was able to enter. There are a lot of pictures of the outside of Varlam as it was beside Meteron and particularly picturesque in the light of that time of day. Though the monastery interiors were closed it was possible to climb up and see the outsides up close as I did at Varlamm.
The chapels with their ornate wood carving, bronze sculpture, wall and ceiling frescoes, hanging lamps and years of prayer and meditation were of another time and world. Photographing and video are strictly forbidden in the chapels and museums. It was a lot of hiking and climbing so I don't think a person with a walker or wheelchair could go to many though some access was available now with bridges built where previously only a rope and basket was used to haul things from the ground up to the monasteries. Men must wear long sleeves and trousers and women long skirts though wrap arounds are available for those who come unprepared.
The monks and sisters were wonderful and kind. Twice I was offered cookies they were making for themselves. Very tasty. I bought some of the honey they make planning on finishing it all in the few days I remain before flying back to Canada. The monks garden and their herbs, oils and wines were available for sale alongside the religious materials. While I had a car I could see a bus tour working almost as well. The only advantage I had was I could linger in the chapels alone blessed to be uninterrupted in this off season time. Otherwise I envied the couple of bus tours I crossed paths with as their guides were so informative. Church groups would do well to pilgrimage here. A few days or a week would be a luxury of time for the monasteries and remarkable surrounding areas.
The themes of the paintings were mostly recording the long history of persecution of Christians, saints and martyrs, not surprising given the origins of the monsteries and reason so many of the monks left the world to come to these places of safety, seclusion and meditation, with albeity hard work.
Monasteries were often built around infirmaries and healing was a central part of their mission. At the Holy Monastery of Grand Meteoron there was one of the last survival monastery infirmaries and a plaque recording the history of this important aspect of Christ's care of the sick. Building, farming, copying manuscripts, healing, attending to the old and sick, monks and nuns are a hard working busy lot. I enjoyed imagining them sitting in the high backed chairs that circled the chapels or at the long hard wood benches and tables in the dining hall. Austere places no doubt but warmed by spirit and friendship of God and man.
t
Historically, the earliest monks began retreating to the rocks as early at the 9th century due to local pogroms and also to escape constant raiding of different marauding groups who descended on this rich farming area to pillage and plunder. Barnabus and Andronicus, founders of the monastery of the Holy Ghost and the Transfiguration, arrived in 970. The Monastery of St. Stephen had a plaque dating it to 1192. By then anchorites were organized under a father Jerimias. Later assistance was extended to the monasteries by the Byzantine Emperors. Byzantine royalty who considered it their duty to God to participate in the construction of a church or monastery to which they would then donate works of art, relics, icons and ceremonial garments.
The monasteries flourished for hundreds of years until the 17th century when turkish Governor Ali Pasa, Lion of Janina, spared no effort to eradicate the spiritual centre of those "unfaithful' to Allah. Finally in World War II the monasteries were bombarded by enemy air force. Since then the Greek Ministry of Culture and the Church of Greece have undertaken extensive renovations
In winter months there are days when the monasteries are closed. Having my own vehicle I was able to drive by the major eight monasteries and enter five of them. St. Barbara, St.Stephen, Holy Trinity, and Grand Meteroron were the ones I was able to enter. There are a lot of pictures of the outside of Varlam as it was beside Meteron and particularly picturesque in the light of that time of day. Though the monastery interiors were closed it was possible to climb up and see the outsides up close as I did at Varlamm.
The chapels with their ornate wood carving, bronze sculpture, wall and ceiling frescoes, hanging lamps and years of prayer and meditation were of another time and world. Photographing and video are strictly forbidden in the chapels and museums. It was a lot of hiking and climbing so I don't think a person with a walker or wheelchair could go to many though some access was available now with bridges built where previously only a rope and basket was used to haul things from the ground up to the monasteries. Men must wear long sleeves and trousers and women long skirts though wrap arounds are available for those who come unprepared.
The monks and sisters were wonderful and kind. Twice I was offered cookies they were making for themselves. Very tasty. I bought some of the honey they make planning on finishing it all in the few days I remain before flying back to Canada. The monks garden and their herbs, oils and wines were available for sale alongside the religious materials. While I had a car I could see a bus tour working almost as well. The only advantage I had was I could linger in the chapels alone blessed to be uninterrupted in this off season time. Otherwise I envied the couple of bus tours I crossed paths with as their guides were so informative. Church groups would do well to pilgrimage here. A few days or a week would be a luxury of time for the monasteries and remarkable surrounding areas.
The themes of the paintings were mostly recording the long history of persecution of Christians, saints and martyrs, not surprising given the origins of the monsteries and reason so many of the monks left the world to come to these places of safety, seclusion and meditation, with albeity hard work.
Monasteries were often built around infirmaries and healing was a central part of their mission. At the Holy Monastery of Grand Meteoron there was one of the last survival monastery infirmaries and a plaque recording the history of this important aspect of Christ's care of the sick. Building, farming, copying manuscripts, healing, attending to the old and sick, monks and nuns are a hard working busy lot. I enjoyed imagining them sitting in the high backed chairs that circled the chapels or at the long hard wood benches and tables in the dining hall. Austere places no doubt but warmed by spirit and friendship of God and man.
t
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