When the Homily is about Immunology

Monasticism and Otter Pops

We converts worship the ground that monks and nuns walk on - sometimes to the point that we think our lives ought to look exactly like theirs. True to some extent I suppose, but I find that when I decided to be a hermit (whether in my prayer corner or in front of the computer) my kids really do not like it all that much. Or when I insist on complete silence during our meals except for my oldest daughter reading the philokalia, the meal usually breaks down into chaos and disgruntledness. The one time I became a stylite for a month my kids laughed and pointed fingers, inviting the neighbors to come watch. I generally try and say the Jesus Prayer while changing diapers, but find that my gagging frequently interupts the complex breathing patterns needed to obtain a vision of the uncreated light. The idea of doing the midnight office with all the kids collapsed into utter disaster when my wife faced restless children the next day and I faced (with sleepy eyes) dangerous viruses in the lab. How do those monks do it!

Ok, ok, enough. All this to say that last night I told some friends that I think I could be a monk easier than I could be a father. Half seriously. I believe that to be a good father, that I have to sacrifice as much as the monastics do: we have to sacrifice self. Well, I don't do a very good job of it...but I am trying.

The monks say their thousands of Jesus Prayers, while I will try and maintain a smile while I laboriously and continuously pick up thousands of disgarded sticky and ant-ridden Otter Pop wrappers.

Maybe the monks should consider a pilgrimage to my house? Salvation happens here (I hope) as much as it happens in the monastary, no? If not...what are we doing here at home?

(Off camera: "Honey, please don't buy any Otter Pops at Costco today!")