For proper context, I’d ask you to listen to this podcast from Father Stephen Freeman on the topic “Orthodoxy and Culture” (mp3, 9min 24sec). This is honestly what has spurred this inner dialogue and has equally inspired and frustrated me as a creative person.

Fr. Stephen explains in essence, that because Orthodoxy is the full expression of the Church in fellowship and communion with God, and because the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, that Orthodoxy should be rich with culture and artistic expression through music, dance, visual arts, etc. And those expressions would be consistent with Orthodoxy and God’s nature, instead of what we’ve come to expect from the general culture of the world around us, art that is destructive of our journey towards theosis and contrary to the nature of God. In essence, that art is not in its fullness and is lacking great substance — the fullness of God.

I was inspired because Father Stephen said that Orthodoxy should be rich with culture and artistic expression — and that even to some extent we inspire the culture around us and create the best art, the best music, books, etc. But as if chained and bound to such hope, close behind is some confusion and subtle despair, as I have no inspiration to look to as models or examples, and to spur me on to creating “Orthodox expressions” in various forms. Allow me to explain.

As a photographer, I have not encountered anything that would suggest Orthodoxy is an active influence in any photographic community of artists — that I know of anyway. I know it doesn’t have to be blatantly obvious — photos of great saints or clergy within the church — and that good Orthodox art can be subtle. But the last time I checked, I have never seen nor heard of any references to great, Orthodox photographers. Instead I see a plethora of painted icons and paintings that fill the bookstore, the sanctuary, and the narthex halls and show a single style and expression of painting. So there seems to be some hope if you’re a painter, I guess, and enjoy painting one singular style of art. But I really have no interest in photographing other people’s paintings.

As a musician and songwriter I find no more comfort. When I listen to Ancient Faith Radio’s idea of music, I hear chanting in various languages, I hear choral performances (in a capella of course), and very rarely will I hear an orchestral piece. Sadly, in his most recent podcast, when he cited such great works and expressions of Orthodoxy, the best and most recent reference Fr. Stephen could make was Rachmaninov, who lived from 1873 to 1943. Yes, he is perhaps one of my most favored composers and I simply love his music — but if the best and most recent model artist that Orthodoxy can produce for musical inspiration is a composer who died over 60 years ago, we’ve got problems.

Let me make things clear — I love my parish, I love listening to Fr. Stephen’s podcasts, and I know that Orthodoxy is the way I must go if I want to experience the fullness of the Church and God’s life and love as expressed through the sacraments, the Church, and the doctrines and traditions handed down over the centuries. But when it comes to navigating the arts and figuring out what the “fullness of art” in Christ is supposed to look like, things aren’t so cut and dry. And to make matters worse, we have no contemporary models to live by either.

For example: let’s say I decided that I wanted to go further into fashion photography [I'd like to think I've become pretty good at it for being self-taught]. And if I wanted to bring the fullness of God into an industry that is anything but full of God presence and fullness — an industry that celebrates vanity, cultivates a need for the latest thing, and values external beauty over internal wholeness — I have no clue what Orthodox photography should be in the fashion industry. There is an inherent conflict between the two world’s ideologies and as a new catechuman to Orthodoxy, I see no model or example of how Orthodoxy has pierced its way into the fashion industry and become a driving force of culture.

Ok, let me scale down the example a bit to something less fanciful. What if I wanted to land a better job in the design industry? That would probably require me working with an advertising firm, and the lifeblood of advertising is essentially this: convincing your customer base that they need your product or service; even further that they cannot live a full life without it. How does one reconcile such drastically different ideologies and bring “the fullness of Christ” into the context of an ad firm? Where does the balance lie in fueling the consumerism-driven economy with providing advertising services to various clients?

And if I strip it down to the most fundamental level of things — if I were to just sit down at my Mac and make a stunning composition in GarageBand just for God, but I never end up doing anything with it, what then? What makes art full? What dictates that an expression is Orthodox or not? If a photograph I create depicts raw human emotion in the midst of heavy grief, is that a valid expression of Orthodox culture that should be celebrated in the so-called Orthodox arts community?

The truth of the matter is that I have no clue if there even is such a thing — an Orthodox global “community” of artists. When I think of Orthodox art, I think of icons and chanting. Maybe some singing and dancing to a hand drum at the close of coffee hour when everyone’s had their fill of falafels and pita bread (for those of us in the Antiochian tradition); but certainly not rock music, photography, theatre, television — you fill in the blank.

Is anyone else experiencing this same frustration? If it is true that Orthodoxy should represent the fullness of culture amidst the fullness of Christianity, then why is what I see as the arts so narrowly expressed in iconic paintings and chants that date back several hundreds of years ago?

<frustrated />

The floor is yours.

First it was Becoming Orthodox: A Journey to the Ancient Christian Faith, all-around good read for recovering evangelicals. Admittedly, I have not finished the book in its entirety, but have made it through the bulk of the book and find it to be a good read. I do recommend it if you’re curious about Orthodoxy from the evangelical/westerner perspective — the author (and supporting contributors) were all former evangelicals themselves.

But then for my class, we bought the book Introducing the Orthodox Church: Its Faith and Life by A. M. Coniaris. I’ve only made my way through the first two chapters, as it’s a heavy read and requires you to ponder the subject matter. It’s not one of those books that you read lightly.

And as if it weren’t enough to read Introducing the Orthodox Church, I walked out of there this past Sunday with two more books. One woman loaned me an old folio-style booklet printed up, showing the correlation between the liturgy and its proper scriptural context. Most items in the liturgy have an average of a 4:1 ratio — an average of four scripture references to one line in the liturgy. It’s quite rich, both in historical and biblical context.

But before I could walk out the door, I was given another book to read that I have yet to crack open — a book that caters more towards the emotional, heart-centered side of things and not nearly as intellectually rich as the former books in my possession.

All these books aside, one small one has made all the difference in the world: Building a Habit of Prayer, a small, unassuming pamphlet that I got from the narthex section of the church for free. There’s nothing terribly profound about it, nothing that brings about secret insights to the Orthodox way of prayer, and certainly nothing to sneeze at in terms of volume of content. Instead, it’s a small pamphlet-style book that lays a foundation for prayer in the morning when you rise and at night before you retire, sharing a variety of prayers to pray, things to read aloud, and offering structure to your time of prayer and solitude with God.

As an evangelical, we were always told to have a prayer and “devotion” time with God — reading the word, praying, and maybe going through some devotion booklet. But to be honest, it seemed more like a free-for-all with little or no structure guidelines to follow unless you specifically bought a devotion book from the local religious bookstore.

I have been following this simple, unassuming prayer book for nearly a week now, and the difference in my life is noticeable for me — perhaps small, but still visible in my eyes. I find that when I draw near to God in the morning and the evening — after I rise and before I go to bed — and pray as guided by Orthodox tradition in this booklet, I find myself much more aware of how I conduct myself from day-to-day. I am much more cognizant of the things I say, what I do, and the attitudes that I hold with regard to certain situations going on in my life. And as a result, I do find myself turning to God more for the areas of my life that I am failing at miserably on my own — especially when it pertains to dealing with and relating to others at work or outside of work.

It must be qualified that I still consider myself as being the chief of the chief of the chief of sinners — Paul is an amateur by my standards — but this process of theosis is much more prevalent in my mind and in the outer workings of my life. It’s amazing what consistent prayer, reading and meditation [LOL, I almost accidentally typed "medication"] will do. I look forward to see how God will shape me in the years to come; I know I’ve a long way to go before I really start to have the resemblance of Christ.