Little Orphant Annie

...another favorite childhood poem. What I posted yesterday about the God Who Will Getcha if Ya Don't Watch Out reminded me of this. I hope you enjoy!


by James Whitcomb Riley

LITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz jist his pants an' roundabout:--
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' jist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!

For He is Good and Loves Mankind

This is the title of a new blog. It is to be David Garner’s account of his conversion to Holy Orthodoxy.

But it’s a phrase I’ve been pondering for several days now, ever since Fr. Stephen so beautifully wrote about it here.  He writes about how hard it is for us fully to believe and accept, in our heart of hearts, that God is good and only good. We struggle, as Fr. Stephen says, to believe deep down that God is good, that His will for us is good, and that His goodness is infinite. Infinite! That means it has no borders; it doesn’t end where my sin begins. It doesn’t come in moderation or in measure, or tempered, or diluted, or spoiled or balanced by something else. It is unconditional. It is freely given. Nothing can keep God from being good to you, and only good, no matter what.

Most of us who were raised in other religions have this feeling lurking somewhere inside that God’ll getcha if ya don’t watch out. God is good, yes, we tell ourselves, but I am not. I am a sinner; I am not “right with God” and if there is such a thing as Justice, then I have some come-uppance due eventually. Even when we become Orthodox Christians and know better in our heads, the inculcated (but highly distorted) image of the Wrathful God still haunts our imagination. The ugly feeling lasts a lot longer than the ugly belief.

We were raised being told, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” Yes, it’s true that an encounter with God, Who is Truth, shows me myself as I really am, and unless I am already extraordinarily humble, this can be a devastating thing. But this is a salutary revelation, a needful, medicinal step; and at the very same instant, together with the fearful knowledge of myself, God shows me Hope and Love and tender forgiveness and the offer of newness. Meet God and you discover He isn’t angry and never was; isn’t even displeased or disapproving; and He never was.

What? I did all these terrible things, I became this unbearable person, and God wasn’t even frowning at me? He indeed disapproved of what you did, and was even working at cross-purposes to your intention, but that was for your own sake, and the sake of His other precious children, not because He personally took offense. He’s much bigger than that, infinitely bigger than that. His purpose, His intention, His will, was always and ever only to save us all from ourselves. The surprising truth turns out to be that the only person out to get you was, well, you! – projecting it onto God all the while.

God has not a single shred of ill will toward you; to the contrary, the message of the Christmas angels is, “Peace on earth, good will toward men!” He was only awaiting, with love and goodness, with kindness and compassion and infinite tenderness, your eventual return. You are not to worry about anything in the past, but only look to the here and now; all you have to do is say, “Yes” and “Thank You!” and you find yourself in the embrace of the Holy Trinity, Who is sharing the Divine Life Itself with you, making you whole.

Is God out to get you? Well, yes, and He will, but this is the very best news there ever could be! This is the miracle of miracles; this is the overflowing fulfillment of every hope, the culmination of everything good and true and beautiful and worthwhile.

All Dead

They were fine at their early morning feeding, frisky, playful, lively, and they all ate well. I put them back in their box and checked, as always, that they had a good temperature gradient, from toasty warm to cool, so they could migrate to whichever spot suited them. And when I came back for the next feeding, all three of my baby deermice were dead.

?????

It just happens sometimes, for reasons nobody knows. It's part of what you have to be willing to take if you are a wildlife rehabilitator.

I've decided I don't regret any of the time I spent with them or the care I took or the sleep I lost. I loved every bit of it, and I loved them. And they had a good life, too, albeit short.

No comments, please. I know of your kindness and love and your prayers, and I thank you for them. But I really am not up to discussing it except with God. They're His mice. And it can't really be stupid to have loved them, since He does, even more.

Feast of Great Martyr St. Barbara

...and the day my sister Barbara was chrismated - and acquired such a wonderful godmother in Deb.   (And as a bonus, she also acquired a marvelous "godgrandmother", Deb's godmother.)

Here's a picture of  I found recently, taken in 1983.





That's Barbara on the right. I'm on the left, and my daughter is in the middle.

Happy Feast Day to all Barbaras!  Hagiographical account here.

WHEN JULIANNA SAW THE BLESSED MARTYR BARBARA
DURING HER TERRIBLE TRIAL
SUFFERING FROM HER MANY WOUNDS,
HER BODY PAINFULLY TORN IN MANY PLACES,
SHE CRIED OUT WITH TEARS OF COMPASSION:
"WORD OF GOD AND LOVER OF MANKIND;
GRANT THIS DAY THAT I MAY BE HER COMPANION IN MARTYRDOM!"

5. SAINTS BARBARA AND JULIANNA,
YOU ARE OF THOSE WHO ALONE HAVE A TRUE VOCATION FOR RIGHTEOUS LIVING,
FOR YOU ATTACKED THE ENEMY AND GRAVELY WOUNDED HIM!
THUS YOU ARE WORTHY OF GLORIFICATION BY CHRIST GOD
FOR YOU TRAMPLED UNDER FOOT THE DESTROYING PASSIONS AND THEIR EVIL,
GIVING THE MEANS OF HEALING TO ALL THE FAITHFUL!

4. MOST PURE MARTYR BARBARA, WHEN YOU WERE SENTENCED TO DIE
YOU FACED SWEET DEATH WITH JOY!
YOU SWIFTLY FULFILLED THE ACT OF MARTYRDOM,
SLAIN BY THE HAND OF YOUR MOST EVIL PARENT.
YOU WERE OFFERED UP AS FRUIT TO GOD.
THEREFORE WITH THE WISE VIRGINS YOU TRULY REJOICE
AS YOU BEHOLD THE LIGHT OF CHRIST, YOUR BRIDEGROOM.

Open Your Eyes!

This morning, I found the eyes of two of my baby mice open. The third's eyes are still sealed shut, but they will probably open in the course of today.

That makes them, officially, 15 days old now, of which I've had them 8.

It's a milestone in a couple of ways.

(1) Eyes open day marks the time to add baby rice cereal to the formula. They rejected it the first try, but took it avidly the second time. It's just a pinch. I'll increase it gradually and the cereal will fill them up better, longer, so we can begin to stretch out the feedings. First feeding we'll skip, starting in about 3 days, will be the 2 a.m.!

In another several days, I'll also add the merest hint of peanut butter to the formula.

Among them all, they drink anywhere from .55 to .6 ccs of formula now, every 4 hours; viz., 6 times a day.

(2) Also, once their eyes are open, they can do their jobbies on their own, without my having to jiggleflick them. (That's a word one of my fellow rehabbers made up.) We usually continue to stimulate them another 2 days, however, from an abundance of caution.


HOORAY! Things are about to become much easier. Double HOORAY! They're doing so well, so far!

Hades, Then and Now

Try this thought experiment. It's sometime before the Crucifixion and you are in Hades. Okay, so Hades is a metaphor for being dead. We use the metaphor because it makes talking about being dead much easier. Otherwise it's usually too hard to conceive and too elusive for words.

So, there you are, in Hades, alone or dimly aware of the others there. You are aware, but you have no body, hence no brain, informing you that you are aware. You have, in other words, no reflexive, or double consciousness. It's dark, both physically (you have no eyes) and spiritually (you don't perceive any sign of God). Your body has rotted away and your soul is fading out, as well - very, very gradually (for God was not about to let you enter into total oblivion, so He slowed down that process until the time should come to rescue you).

And then a miracle happens. Suddenly, you have some new way of seeing and hearing, even without your body. Your reflexive consciousness, without which you were less than human, is back again. Though you have no eyes, you see a Light more beautiful and more brilliant than you could ever have imagined or could ever describe, and in the midst of this Light, the form of a Man, of a Liberator. You are engulfed by an almost palpable, strong wave of Love. You realize you are not the only one. You are no longer alone, and the Light and the Love and the New Life are flooding over all the others, too. You know you did evil during your lifetime, but you also now know, beyond any doubt, that all is forgiven. 

Christ has entered Hades.  Your heart is singing, and weeping, and dancing for joy, for love.  You are overcome with gratitude. 

* * *

So here's the question: is this still Hades?

Christ Jesus, by His Presence there, has made it into Paradise. Permanently. Hades remains filled with His Holy Spirit; by Whom you are able to "see" and "hear" even without a brain. It's the fulfillment of what Prophet King David wrote: "If I descend into Hades, behold, Thou art there."

Henceforth, those in Christ will still die in the sense of losing our bodies. But according both to His promise and to His demonstration, we shall receive them back, made perfect, immortal, and glorious.

John 11:25 Jesus said to her [Martha], "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he were dead, he shall yet live."

And meanwhile, from the moment we lose our mortal bodies until the Last Day and reunification with our incorruptible bodies, we shall never experience the darkness, the aloneness, the lovelessness, the hopelessness, the gradual draining away of our very soul and being.  The Holy Spirit shall supply us His own Life, with fuller consciousness even than our finite bodies ever could before.  In that sense, we shall never taste death.

John 11:26  "And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?"

This is the difference it makes for us today and forevermore that Christ "descended into Hades".

Of Mice and Men (Us)

Demetrios and I are getting better. I seem to be better than he is, but we're both improving. As of yesterday, I got up and dressed, and I even went out briefly to run a couple of quick errands. Demetrios is well enough to blow some of the leaves in which we found our yard blanketed, when we returned from abroad.

The wee mice are thriving so far, but one never knows. They're up to just over 1cc of formula every 3.5 hours, stretched out to 4 hours during the night so I can sleep for longer stretches. They are very vigorous and very wigglesome, a bit hard to handle. They seem to like being in my hand and don't try to get away, but they don't like to hold still, either.

I now think we have two shes and one he. I'd have to use a magnifying glass to be sure, but that's difficult when both hands are needed to hold the mouse!

Here's a photo that I found on the Internet. My mice look just like this one, except the fur is darker gray in this particular litter and there's perhaps a smidgeon less of it so far. 

And they do not snooze in my hand; they climb rapidly all over it.

Memory of Hope

For no reason of which I am consciously aware, this evening an old memory came back to me, a snatch of melody I couldn't identify for a while, and then suddenly, there it was: "Whispering Hope."

Soft as the voice of an angel
Breathing a lesson unheard,
Hope with a gentle persuasion
Whispers her comforting word:

Wait till the darkness is over,
Wait till the tempest is done,
Hope for the sunshine tomorrow,
After the showers are gone.

Refrain:

Whispering hope, O how welcome thy voice,
Making my heart in its sorrow rejoice.

My dad used to play it on the piano; so did I, although not nearly as well. Here is someone playing in on the organ, perhaps a bit fast (or perhaps not), but at least it's not the hokey rendition you usually find. I hope you will enjoy it.

How Not to Conduct Catholic-Orthodox Dialogue

Dear Catholics,

The very first pre-requisite for dialogue with Orthodox Christians is to accept that the differences between us are at root theological. Yes, theological. And they are genuine, authentic, theological differences, and they are grave. You need to take that seriously if we are to get anywhere in dialogue.

It is neither accurate nor charitable to tell us the separation between us is because we Orthodox Christians are simply unforgiving, as in this remark:

I will never quite grasp the animus of the Orthodox attitude towards the Catholic Church. I know that many (and in fact most) regard Western Christianity as unorthodox, but I rather suspect that this is an historical grievance looking for a doctrinal excuse.

At least such a dismissive remark does acknowledge that there are grievances -- conveniently relegating them to history, however, and ignoring the current and continuing grievances.

But historically, we made the doctrinal issues clear three hundred years before the first significant grievance, the sacking of Constantinople in 1204 by Catholic Crusaders.

Nor does it further the cause of Christian unity to tell us our differences are merely products of our proud imagination. Do not, for example, say this:

My contention would be that the Orthodox are simply creating doctrinal errors that don’t exist. On any of the issues you cite … the “difference” comes about because of exaggerated Orthodox insistence that there must be a fundamental difference. We, on the other hand, see that the Eastern and Western theologies are compatible rather than contradictory. Because the doctrines that the East denies are not those which the West teaches, but those which they imagine we teach.

Who has created anything?  Our doctrine is the same as it has ever been, from centuries before the split.  You are the ones who believe in "doctrinal development".

But if you think Catholic and Orthodox teachings all mean the same thing, then say it the Orthodox way and put an end to the controversy.  If you mean the same thing by the filioque as we mean without it, then say the Creed without it; as it's all the same, you've nothing to lose and much to gain.  You could have done this a thousand years ago and ended or prevented all these centuries of bitter controversy, but you haven't and that tells us there is some meaning in the filioque more important to Catholics than union with the Orthodox.  In other words, there's a real difference, a substantial one.

It would also be prudent, as well as more charitable, not to tell us the corollary to this insult, which is that we are ignorant:

the disagreements have arisen as a result of linguistic and cultural isolation rather than authentic disagreement on the heart of the faith.

Upon what basis does this opinion rest? 

And please, do not tell us you know and understand the Orthodox Christian faith better than the Orthodox do:

...the Protestant rejections really do amount to a disagreement, because they reject them in the context of a shared Western Church view ... Thus the Protestants really DO reject these doctrines, but we Catholics see these very doctrines as implicit within the Orthodox Faith as well as our own.

Take the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, for example.  It is not implicit in the Orthodox Faith; instead, it is predicated upon the Catholic doctrine of Original Sin, which is not the same as the Orthodox doctrine of the Ancestral Sin.  (The former has guilt and accountability for it being inherited by all of Adam's descendants.)  In fact, the Immaculate Conception, far from being implicit in our Faith, actually undermines it, for Orthodox Christianity teaches that Christ healed fallen human nature by assuming it.  By assuming fallen human nature - inherited from whom?  from His mother - and uniting it to the Divine Nature, thereby purifying, sanctifying , re-creating that fallen human nature, without any compromise to the Divine.

I found all four of these dismissive insults on one blog, by one author, in regard to one post.  But I have also found them in virtually every discussion with Catholics. 

Unfortunately, the reality is that the gap between us is theological.  It is not the result of animus or imagination or ignorance or misunderstanding.  It is theological and very real.  And it is both deep and wide. Facing this gap, acknowledging it for what it is, will be the first step toward bridging it.

But if all you are going to do is cast aspersions, well, don't expect not to create "animus"..

They're Deer Mice

...and they're adorable. They're charcoal gray (not brown) on top, with white bellies and feet. Well, okay, the bellies and feet are pink right now because there's no fur there, but there soon will be. Thee mousies are about the size of the top joint of my index finger, tiny, warm, fuzzy things.

They've had 8 feedings so far; they seem to get hungry about every 3 hours. How can I tell? They aren't interested in feeding much before then.

They have learned to associate my warm hand with their meals, and now instead of scrambling to get away fom my hand, they scamper right into it.

They also no longer need force-feeding, which is a relief, because you have to judge how much to give them. But now they lap up tiny droplets from the end of the syringe, all by themselves, and quit when they're full, which is after only a few drops, less than .1 cc.

You can see the milk in their tummies as a slightly bulging white area.

Their other ends are all functioning well, too. Meaning the formula is agreeing with them. All is normal.

And I'm thrilled. I've missed having animals. I've especially missed having hand-fed animals around.

And it gives me something special to do while I recover from this very miserable cold. (I went to church this morning, but was extremely glad to arrive back home and go to bed.) I've set up a tray table beside the bed, covered with a couple of baby blankets and the heating pad, set on "Low". On top of the heating pad sit two tiny "cages", really just those little boxes sold for children to collect insects in. They are good because they're small enough the mice don't get lost and they are fully enclosed so they don't escape.

The mice are transferred, one at a time as each one is fed, from one box to the other, so I can keep track. These "cages" are coverd with another baby blanket to keep out drafts and keep in the warmth from the heating pad.

Also on the table: a syringe full of formula tipped with the smallest nipple you ever saw, rubber-banded to an ice pack; a small thermos of very hot water in which to warm the syringe at feeding time; a bottle of hand sanitizer. The Kleenex box doesn't fit on the table and is right beside my pillow. The waste basket is right under the tray table.

So it's a nice set-up. I only have to get up every 3rd feeding, for clean syringes and fresh formula. I sleep (if I can) when the babies do.

The Reading Appointed for the Day

Any priest or minister who wonders how to make it relevant to the lives of his flock is assuming it isn't already. Come on! This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the glad tidings of great joy!

If it isn't already inherently relevant, nothing you can do can make it so. If it is, you don't need to do anything except preach it correctly.

And if it isn't already relevant, you'll be preaching it for the wrong reason; viz., to attract followers for God. He, however, isn't interested in just attracting followers as a good in itself. He wants to transfigure people, heal and save them, make them joyful and peaceful, and holy and glorious.

If that isn't relevant to everybody, what is?

Three Blind Mice

That is what has been brought to me tonight, the first residents of my wild baby nursery since our return from Greece. They came all the way from the little town of Disputanta (pronounced, I learned, "Dis-pyu-TAN-na") where a man and his wife were hauling out Christmas decorations from an outdoor storage shed and found these babies nesting amid the garlands. They are so tiny I can't yet tell their sexes for sure, although I think we have two boys and a girl. They do have a little fur, but their eyes are still sealed shut.

They've had two feedings so far, the first on half-strength formula, the second on three-quarters strength. Next feeding will be full-strength; I hope their digestive systems can handle it. They only drink a few drops at a time and that fills them up.

So far, so good. As they were brought to me within three hours of their being found, they are in good shape, not at all dehydrated. They're strong, wiggly, and already afraid of being held.

Mice are among Demetrios' favorite animals, and I like rehabbing them because they're all grown up in four weeks or so.

But if they live, I suppose I may overwinter these. Let's hope.

A Memory of Long Ago and a Hope for Now

(All names changed)

“You’ve adopted a baby!” I exclaimed joyfully when Felicity and Sam showed up in church with a boy in arms, about a year old.

“No,” said Felicity. “This is an abandoned baby.”

“What on earth…?

Sam, a Catholic ex-priest who was now the administrator of a teen center, said one of the teenagers who frequented the center had brought him this baby last night. She had been babysitting him, she said, and his mother never came back, and the girl didn’t know what to do. So Sam had taken the baby from her.

“Well, what are YOU going to do?” I asked Sam and Felicity.

They didn’t know.

“Do you have the stuff you’ll need, like bottles and diapers?”

They didn’t; they only had one bottle and a bit of formula and one pack of diapers.

I said, “We have everything for a child that age. He looks the same age as our Mark. Why don’t we take him home while you figure out what to do next?”

So we did.

The baby was half white and half Indian, as the Native Americans called themselves back then. He had green eyes.

The poor child also had long, ragged fingernails and toenails and was dirty all over. I gave him a warm bath, clipped his nails, put ointment on his severe diaper rash, put him in clean clothes, fed him a nice supper, and rocked him to sleep. He woke several times during the night, crying. I rocked him and sang to him for an hour or so at a time, wondering how he must feel without his mom. Lonely? Terrified? Heartbroken?

During playtime, I would sit him on a big rug, next to Mark, in the nursery, and the boy hadn’t a clue what to do. He didn’t know how to play, didn’t know what to do with any of the baby toys. He just sat there and looked around.

He was a good boy, very compliant, in fact rather passive, a bit clingy, as was only to be expected. But he was clearly suffering from neglect. Severe neglect. He also had a runny nose and runny eyes.

I called my son’s pediatrician and made an appointment for the child.

Three days went by and I hadn’t heard from Felicity and Sam, so that evening I decided I’d better call them. What progress had been made toward locating the mother? Well, none. They hadn’t really had time to think about it much. All they knew was, his mother’s first name was Alma and she worked at the Franklin Bar.

I called the Franklin Bar and asked to speak with Alma. She was off tonight, they told me. I explained that this was an emergency, and could I please have her home number? They gave it to me; I called it and reached Alma’s mother. “She’s spending the night with a girlfriend,” the mother told me.

“Well, I’m someone who has her baby, and I want to speak to her about him,” I said. “Could you give me the number where she is?”

She did and I called and finally found myself talking to the mother of the baby. I wasn’t particularly eager to return the boy to a mother who had abandoned him and had been neglecting him before that. It wasn't even clear whether she wanted him. I said, “Alma, I have your baby." (I didn't want to tell her my name.) "Do you want him back?”

“Yes,” she said, simply.

“Well, then, meet me tomorrow morning at ten o’clock in the lobby of General Hospital” (where the pediatrician’s office was) “and we’ll work it out.”

She agreed.

Somewhbere in all this, I also called Social Services and said I had an abandoned baby and I didn’t know what to do.

“You mean left in a basket on your doorstep?” the startled receptionist asked.

“No, not like that.” And I explained.

Turns out Alma had a social worker already; I’ve forgotten how I found that out. However, she was away on her honeymoon. But another social worker got on the phone with me. I told her the situation, including my reluctance to give the baby back, and she said she’d meet us in the doctor’s office and see what should be done.

Ten o’clock the next morning, I stood in the hospital’s main lobby, baby in arms, and a stocky young Native American woman came up to me and stuffed a few hundred dollars into my hand.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“The payment,” she whispered.

!!!!!

After everything had been sorted out, it turned out the mother had not abandoned her baby. She had come back home to find baby and sitter gone. The teenager had come to the same conclusion as I, that this child did not belong with this mother, and had taken the situation into her own hands. She confessed to having abducted the baby.

Alma had not gone to the police, because she was afraid to, with her police record. But she had mistaken my telephone call for a ransom demand. After we had hung up, she had scraped together the several hundred dollars.

The baby had been kidnapped and technically, I was an accessory to the crime!

The pediatrician and the social worker both agreed with my assessment (and the babysitter’s) that this child was being severely neglected. The only way to get him away from the mother, they said, was to hospitalize him for a while. So they did, and during that time, the mother was required to attend a couple of weeks of parenting classes.

I assume they gave her back the baby after that, but I don’t know because the doctor visit ended my involvement.

No, I didn’t get into any legal trouble.

Oh, and the baby turned out to be exactly the same age as Mark, with only a 12-hour difference. Mark is 42 now, which means that child is also 42, probably a father himself. I hope things worked out well for him. And his mother. I hope they are both happy. I pray for them now and then, when I think of it, especially every year on Mark's birthday.

In Every Thing, Give Thanks

Please, please read this, from Fr. Stephen.  It will MAKE your Thanksgiving.  It also hits the nail on the head about how hard it is for us Westerners really to believe, deep down, in every circumstance, that GOD IS GOOD.  Utterly, perfectly, absolutely, infinitely good.

h/t:  Chocolatesa at Kyrie Eleison (See my sidebar)

Pure Gift

Non-Orthodox people who theologize usually only have two ideas in mind of how good works could relate to salvation. One is what they were taught by Roman Catholicism: that good works cause or result in salvation. Knowing this to be wrong, Protestants turn this teaching on its head and say no, it’s salvation that causes good works and good works are the manifestation of it.

(Herein is a common Protestant error, assuming that Catholic teaching can be corrected by inverting or reversing it, not realizing that alough the conclusions are opposites, there is a faulty premise common to both.  If the pope says, "Go this way along the road," you can't correct him by saying, "No, go the other way along the road" if what's really needed is to be on a different road.)

So along come the Orthodox and they don't follow that road in either direction.  They say good works are indeed necessary for salvation and are not a mere demonstration of it; but on the other hand, good works do not earn or merit salvation, either – and the heterodox are left scratching their heads. What on earth could that mean?

It means salvation does not work as a merit system.  We don't go down that road, or up it, either.  Salvation is the absolutely free gift of God, which neither can nor needs to be merited, period. Salvation does not have to be merited by anyone whomsoever because God is already willing, able, and prepared to give it to anybody. It cannot be earned, by anyone who ever lived, because Love is not extorted or cajoled or evoked from God, or it isn't true love. Salvation cannot literally be purchased, as by suffering or dying, even if the One who suffers and dies is Jesus Christ, because salvation was never for sale.  It is pure gift from the magnanimous heart of God. To suppose somebody Somebody must do something to get God to save us is to insult His tender kindness and limitless generosity.

I’m reminded of once when my daughter was very young and we were making Valentines for her to give to each child in her class.

“But I don’t want to give one to so-and-so!” she protested. “It will mean I think he’s a nice boy and he isn’t!”

So I explained that what the Valentine would really show was not that he was a nice boy, but that she was a nice girl, giving a card to everyone, so nobody’s feelings would be hurt, no matter whether they were nice children or not. She was a nice girl; that was the point.

When people say salvation must be merited, it becomes imperative immediately to add: “but not by you!” Only by Jesus Christ.  Lest any man should boast, you know.

To explain why only Jesus Christ merits your salvation, you have to mess up the authentic doctrine of the Atonement, painting God as Not At All Nice, Someone who must be repaid or persuaded or dealt with, so He will grant us salvation, because otherwise He either can't or won't. You in effect portray Him as Someone Who is looking out for His own interests at the expense of ours, as Someone Whose justice consists of punishing sin when the truth is, His justice means healing it.  God's Justice does not require simply to be “paid” for sin, as if that were possible, but to be RID of it.  Divine Justice is not to balance some mythological ledger, but to set things right.

To explain why salvation, though it indeed must be merited, cannot be merited by you, you have to mess up both your Christian anthropology and your whole theology of good works. You cannot allow that mankind can really do good (because good would be meritorious, obliging God to save); and that skews Christian anthropology. You cannot allow that mankind needs to do good to be saved (because that again would mean we could merit our own salvation); and this distorts the theology of good works. You get told such things as that good works flow easily and naturally from the regenerate person, perhaps without his even being aware of it, when everyone, every single one, who has ever tried to follow Christ all the way, every moment of every day, knows that is very far from the truth.

But if salvation is not a merit system period, if God just gives it outright and not as part of any deal, then the Atonement has another meaning in which God really is Very Nice Indeed, to put it far too mildly. He's too nice by far, for people who would rather see their fellow man fry in hell.  (Here is an interesting post on that subject by Anthony Iovine, a Lutheran minister, who observes that this is the wrong attitude for a Christian.)  If salvation is not a merit system period, then Christian anthropology will not be afraid to admit mankind has a free will and can indeed do some good things. And when it comes to good works, we need not worry whether they are meritorious or not, as that is irrelevant; salvation doesn't work that way. We need not deny the need for good works, as that need does not imply earning our salvation.

Good works have a different role to play.  Good works, meaning works of faith, neither cause nor only demonstrate our salvation; they ARE it.  For salvation is not merely a ticket into heaven in the hereafter; salvation is being made holy, as God is holy, so as to be united in bliss with Him, both now and forever.  

The works of faith are our salvation.  They do not earn or cause it.  That, to us, ould be a bit like saying, “My headache causes pain.” Nor do they simply manifest our salvation. That would be like saying, “My headache shows that I have pain.” No, good works, works of faith ARE your salvation, as your headache IS pain.  That is, good works are the shape and form our faith takes, and our salvation. We are saved from being sinners to being set on the right path, and being able (even though in infantile ways, at first) to do works pleasing to God. We are saved from being  faithless, mean, nasty, selfish slaves of passions to being trusting, kind, pure, self-sacrificing, free servants of our Lord. We are being saved from our wretchedness to His blessedness. We are being transfigured into His image. (No, not all in a moment.)  Good works are not all salvation is, but they are a very large part of what salvation is. And that is one sense in which we mean it when we say good works are “necessary for salvation.” It’s a redundancy.

But if salvation is becoming conformed to the image of the Son, then the necessity of good works takes on another sense, as well.  Good works reinforce that transformation.  Good works exercise our spirit and strengthen our faith to do more.  The more good we do, the more like the Son we are.  The more like the Son we are, the more glorious our salvation, not waiting until the hereafter, but beginning here and now. 

Good works merit nothing.  And good works are absolutely necessary.