By Father Joseph Huneycutt
Larry Nevell was driving pretty good for a blind man. “Frrrrrrrrp,” meant he was too close to danger on his right. “Fudup, fudup, fudup,” meant he was straddling the center line. Silence indicated smooth sailing.
He’d had trouble finding the car without drawing attention. “Bwwap, bwwap, bwwap!” That was the third button in the middle. The car was over to his left, down about 20 fenders. As planned, he’d left his cane and eye wear in his brief case and had pulled his ball cap down over his eyes to avoid being noticed. At first he’d worried that finding the vehicle would pose the greatest challenge. It proved to be the first of many.
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. He’d let his right hand brush past each auto. He had to be getting close. Tapping the middle button one more time, “Bwwap,” proved sufficient. Thank God for remote keys!
He was shaking as he sat behind the wheel. Blind from birth, he’d had lots of experience sitting behind the steering wheel, playing. It would take the fingers of both hands to recount the car batteries he’d drained listening to the radio. He knew every announcer, every song -- he’d even memorized commercials -- over the past 16 years. Now, on his 21st birthday, he was finally going to take the car for a spin. He wondered how it might end.
His father had parked the car in the final slot at the end of the third row of the K-Mart lot. This he knew for a fact. Daddy always claimed he was getting his exercise with the small walk to the store -- and besides, he’d rather let the elderly and lazy have the nearest parking spots.
Having calmed down from his solo journey to the car, he’d cranked the engine and listened to the radio for a long time before releasing the brake and gearing up. Why do they never tell the time anymore? Finally 2:30 pm. It was early. Would a blind man driving down the interstate draw more attention in the middle of the day? Or would it be best to save his inaugural drive till the middle of the night? He decided to make the trip in stages.
First, he drove down to the car wash. It was only one block from his Dad’s favorite parking spot. Down the hill, to the left. He drove extremely slow. If he bumped someone, it would not really matter. Turning left over the small entry road proved no trouble. Besides, from the gentle clicking noise, he knew he’d engaged the flashing emergency lights.
The entry to the car wash was, as he’d suspected, idiot proof. You’d have thought the designers had the blind in mind during construction: narrow curbing, sensory activated, automated voices, bells, and whistles. Dad liked a clean car and Larry knew all the sounds by heart. Having activated the machinery with his Dad’s code, Larry sat back and enjoyed the whirring and whooshing amid the flap, flap and drizzle.
He thought about how lucky he was. His brother, Tom, had worked on the state road crew during his college years. He was the one who had explained all the “noises” to Larry. “Frrrrrrrrp” was caused by the warning indentions placed near the shoulder of the road; “Fudup” was the reflectors on the centerline. Hearing that there were no stop lights on the interstate, Larry began to imagine the day that he would drive. “Humph!” would had been the response if he’d ever told anyone.
“Ding!” As the car wash ended, Larry was exhausted. Less than thirty minutes into his big tour, he needed some rest. He eased back onto the service road and headed down to the gas station on the right. Thank God no one was in his Dad’s favorite diagonal Handicap spot. His father was always glad to have Larry when he was in a hurry. He eased the car into park and rested his head on the seat. He would not be able to stay here long. His Dad said Big Brother had cameras everywhere these days -- especially at convenience stores. Though Larry couldn’t see, he understood he was being watched.
Bump, bump, bump! “Hey buddy, are you okay?” Waking from slumber, Larry turned his head toward the window. “What?” He hoped he didn’t look blind as he spoke. They said that blind people all acted like Stevie Wonder (whatever that meant). “Your flashers are on!” With a wave of his hand and a press of the button, Larry avoided discovery.
How long had he been asleep? “The White House today ...” brccccccccct “I’ve got friends in low places ...” brccccccccct “sale ends Saturday ... “ brccccccccct “low tonight in the mid-forties ...” brccccccccct “Badr-r-r-r-m Bhaa, bhaa, bhaa-bhaa, from ABC News ...” Ah, the news. It must be the top of the hour, three o’clock.
Larry started the engine, placed it in reverse, then panicked. He’d never figured on having to back up. He knew how to engage the car, but how do those who can see do this? Should he turn his head to look behind him or use the mirrors? What if someone was behind him? He decided to punt. That is, he got out of the car -- without his cane, normal dress, and father -- to go unrecognized. Entering the store, he realized he was buying time.
* * *
Similar to Larry Nevell, many converts enter the strange new world of Orthodoxy trying to make it on their own flawed knowledge and relying on the familiar. This can prove to be frustrating. In the story, Larry is destined -- by virtue of his limitations -- for failure if he continues his journey handicapped and alone. One must admit, a blind man driving a car is pretty preposterous! Then again, an American converting to Eastern Orthodox Christianity -- though a common occurrence -- is a tall order just the same.
For Americans, the study of Christianity can become one’s religion. The convert’s path is often navigated by this “science” of faith. Like Larry Neville, we’ve imbibed of the script, songs and other media of Christianity so long that we’ve memorized it. Hungering for more, we long for something new. Often, however, this hunger is insatiable due to our fickle faddishness. Thus our Christian experience can seem as transient as the Top-40 songs of the day.
And ever unsure of ourselves, much like Larry’s hope of driving down the Interstate blindly, we struggle to be Orthodox all the while not drawing attention to ourselves, to our shortcomings, to our blindness.
Like the carwash, Baptism is the easy part. It’s driving the car, moving on from there, that proves challenging! The Church provides human assistance in the form of Godparents and Confessors. Yet our stubborn self-will oftentimes prevents us from fully taking advantage of such chaperones and chauffeurs. Rather, in typical American fashion, we try to go it on our own. Larry believes that he knows more than his father. As an adventurous kid might lie to his father in order to take a joy ride, American Converts are tempted to flee God-pleasing authority. Oftentimes, Godparents are mere acquaintances; worse yet joy-ride pals.
Like Larry memorizing his brother’s definition of road sounds, we memorize pithy sayings that we believe will prevent us from falling off the path. It’s part of our American “rugged individualism.” Even when help knocks on our door, we often times wave it away, determined to make it on our own.
We’re supposed to work out our salvation in community -- with Godparents, Priests, and fellow Pilgrims struggling toward the Kingdom. The Church is not a club where we chose our leader, our companions, or even our Priest. Struggling to go it on our own, thinking we know better, is as dangerous as driving a car without benefit of sight. And it sure ain’t Orthodox.
“Blinded by the Light” is a convert’s dilemma. Having found the Pearl of Great Price and drank deeply from the well; having been washed in the living waters of Baptism and tasted the Medicine of Immortality ... sometimes we are tempted to want MORE! The early stages of our Conversion were so awesome that the day-to-day salvific struggle seems mundane, boring. We discover that we’re still addicted to the same sins. We’re a sinner as before! And, as fallen human nature is wont to tempt us, we look elsewhere for a solution. Some look for someone to blame; some look for a Guru. Others are tempted to find communities far away and with less accountability. Still others are drawn toward more book knowledge and less human interaction. And like Larry Nevell in our story, all these temptations only buy [i.e., waste] time.
Years ago, when our Mission in Asheville was just beginning, an experienced Convert Priest encouraged me “Pray God sends you people. Pray that you recognize the people that God sends you.” Is this ever true! Oftentimes, in a Mission situation, we tend to place our hopes on every warm body that darkens the door of our chapel. Time has proven that such can lead to continual discouragement. Sow seed. Be faithful. God will provide the increase. Fr Alexander Elchaninov writes:
Our continual mistake is that we do not concentrate upon the present day, the actual hour, of our life; we live in the past or in the future; we are continually expecting the coming of some special moment when our life will unfold itself in its full significance. And we do not notice that life is flowing like water through our fingers, sifting like precious grain from a loosely fastened bag.
Constantly, each day, each hour, God is sending us people, circumstances, tasks, which should mark the beginning of our renewal; yet we pay them no attention, and thus continually we resist God’s will for us. Indeed, how can God help us? Only by sending us in our daily life certain people, and certain coincidences of circumstance. If we accepted every hour of our life as the hour of God’s will for us, as the decisive, most important, unique hour of our life -- what sources of joy, love, strength, as yet hidden from us, would spring from the depths of our soul!
Let us then be serious in our attitude towards each person we meet in our life, towards every opportunity of performing a good deed; be sure that you will then fulfill God’s will for you in these very circumstances, on that very day, in that very hour.
--Diary of a Russian Priest , p.157.
Otherwise, as in the introductory story of Larry, it all makes for good fiction. [Notice Larry left everything helpful behind.] Yet our salvation is based in Reality. We all fall short. We all miss the mark. This does not mean that we are defeated. We are however, handicapped. We need each other in Christ. It is the very reason for the Church, the Ark of our Salvation. One has to live the Orthodox Christian faith. It’s not found in books, in Gurus, in exotic places. Like the Kingdom of God, it is found within the heart. We have to make room! For dragons and slithery passions are also found therein whose goal it is to smother the light with their darkness. This is spiritual warfare. It begins with you; directed toward God; working out your salvation with your neighbor. It’s a lot like driving a car, with all the struggles and temptations that the road may bring, yet with eyes open wide.
Father Joseph Huneycutt is pastor of St Raphael Orthodox Church in Hendersonville, NC and is the author of the “blog” titled, “Orthodixie”.
