Bright Week

Classes at SVS are cancelled during this festal week, so Audra, the girls and I have been enjoying the time off. We went to Wave Hill yesterday--a public garden and cultural center--following a Paschal Divine Liturgy, and got to run around on the lawns playing tag and hide-and-go-seek. The girls loved walking around, and what flowers were in bloom at the time made for great conversation.

We had a picnic first thing, and what was immediately apparent (and had been since we had entered the neighborhood in our van) was that a Conservative or Orthodox synagogue was apparently letting out the final Passover service at that time; we had some great conversations with several young, very friendly Jewish families. It always touches me to see people--and usually they are young, very open, friendly types--wearing a yarmulke and a tallit with the knotted tzitzit hanging down. In an age where plastic religion-as-commodity reigns near-supreme as a category of one's life one otherwise ignores (along with the people and practices it entails), these folks were carrying on the very earthy traditions of their forebears, not merely content to eat near one another (coffee hour, anyone?), but to walk dishes over from one table to another (one woman asked "Why did we pack food for ourselves, again?) and to eat off one another's plates.

One of the men heard me speaking with the girls in Spanish and began to speak with me in Spanish as well. He'd been a bilingual elementary school teacher. When he found out what I do at the moment, we got to talking about festal periods. He was quite pleasantly surprised to hear that Orthodox Christians do not normally refer to Easter as "Easter," but rather as Πάσχα, the Greek transliteration of "Passover." Like them, as well, the main festal day is followed by an afterfeast, in our case a week-long lifting of fasting of any sort. He seemed to be unaware that any Christian sect existed that still maintained so much of a Jewish ethos, at least "on the books." Even more surprising, now that I think about it, must have been that the Russian Orthodox Church, of all things, did this. What really floored him was that, after inquiring about the period of Lent (what it was, what it entailed, etc), I showed him how, just as Lent is 50 days prior to Pascha*, the celebration of Pascha extends 50 days forward to Shavuot (שבועות‎), or Pentecost.

A friend of his at the picnic, Avi, a Rabbinical student at JTS, shook my hand and asked about how our Church runs. All over the place, I wanted to say. He was referring to the central bishop of Rome presiding over the Roman Catholics, however, and when I said that each Orthodox congregation is under its local bishop, and that all the bishops meet in council, he was impressed, as this is much like how the rabbis govern synagogues. He asked if all the bishops meet every year. Thoughts of how hard its been even to get Chambesy going flashed through my mind, but I said, no, not unless there's a really major crisis do they get together in council. We paused for a beat, then both got these wry smirks on our faces. "And as you probably know," I said, "oftentimes it's probably just better that they leave each other be." Indeed.

The conversation reminded me of my days looking into Messianic Judaism. There was a time when I was very much interested in all things Hebrewish; I can say that my openness to this sort of thing left me open to Eastern Christianity, though it also alerted me to a very curious thing. When one thinks they have an idea about what they want--"The New Testament Church," "The Pure Community of the Messiah," etc--and they encounter the community which is itself everything which one's idea was attempting to be, the cognitive dissonance which results can be substantial. When I was actually confronted with real Semitic music--Syrio-Byzantine chant--as opposed to charismatic worship choruses in a minor key with a splash of badly-pronounced Hebrew thrown in, I discovered that I truly did not have a taste for it (then, at least). When I saw a Gospel book procession and saw a sacrifice held up on behalf of all and for all at the hands of robed priests done "again and again" instead of wild, ecstatic dancers with ribbons and leotards, well, I knew I was in for more than I'd bargained for. Nevertheless, the rhythm of fast and feast, of authority and liturgy, has rooted me in a place where I can connect more authentically with people of a truly Ancient Faith.

The four of us will be heading out tomorrow morning early to go to the Monastery of the Transfiguration in Ellwood City, PA for a long weekend away. It is always a blessing to "recharge" at a place devoted to rootedness and ascetic prayer, but this will come special to us, firstly because it will be a return visit for Audra--she came with a few women from our parish back in Ft. Worth several years back and experienced an inspiring presence there that has helped her continue to deepen her walk in the faith since then--and it will be an opportunity for this seminarian to enjoy quiet and prayer without having to preoccupy myself with a blessed thing with regard to the services. Your prayers during our journey would be appreciated.

Christ is risen!

*(The Orthodox do not consider Holy Week, the week before Pascha, to be a part of Lent proper, which is a straight-through, 40-day period (including Sundays) prior to the weekend before Holy Week. When the weekend prior to Holy Week and Holy Week itself are added to the period of Lent, it makes for a 50-day fasting period prior to Pascha.)

Continuing w/Rhology

Former comments here have led to my long response. Rather than break it up in a combox, I brought it back here.

Christ is risen!

Re: 1 Jn 5.13: I quoted, somewhere in previous comments, St. Paul's psg of not having attained it, but pressing on towards it, its being sthg that Christ has already apprehended (our salvation) and which we might eventually thus co-apprehend (though it's already apprehended). So I would say that we never actually possess eternal life through any works, but the movement/orientation of our lives twd XC through our works is what prepares us for our own, final apprehension by Him. "He perfects the partially-unwilling human at death," as you said.

” I bet [Adam and Eve] didn't want to leave [the garden]…I bet adulterers preferred not to be stoned… Man dies when he doesn't want to.”

Right, but those are consequences for choices freely made, not an interference with the actual choice itself. Big difference. But you and I both see God’s will being accomplished with man’s full, unimpeded free will intact and operational (or so I understand you to be saying), so this is not a big surprise. So when you ask:

“Then why say ‘Suffice it to say that eternal life is contingent on whether or not my faith is made perfect by my works which I am under no compulsion to do’?”

I would say this: Without our works orienting us towards Christ, we are not moving towards a willingness which will be perfected. Would God take someone, kicking and screaming, into heaven completely contrarily to his express, consistent will as borne out by his own life? Rather, someone who has begun to live the gospel, however imperfectly, is on the path of theosis and, if he endures to the end “in peace and repentance,” as we pray to do in the liturgy, he’ll receive “a good defense before the fearful, dread judgment seat of Christ” (sthg else we pray for).

“God has a law. You've broken it, many times. So do you need forgiveness for that or don't you?”

Yes indeed, but what’s the nature of that law? What are its consequences, and how are they meted out? Strictly morally? Ontologically? The law is that that which sins, dissolves into the grave and towards ever-greater enmity with (and thus, torment from the face of) the One who is life itself. We begin the process of the reversal of that condemnation by being united to Him in a death like His (baptism, Rom 6.3) so that we might share in Christ’s resurrected life.

”I have to say I'm pretty confused at this point, as it seems your left hand is taking back what your right is giving [about whether or not the sovereignty of God matters].”

Sorry for being unclear. God’s sovereignty is an established dogma of (little and big “o”-orthodox) Christianity. So, of course, it matters that this be taught and believed by the faithful. What I’m wondering about here is whether or not the Reformed view of sovereignty means much without a way to objectively apply it to actual people who are now the elect, and actual people who are now damned. Otherwise--as far as we’re concerned, at least--such a teaching seems to be little more than a hypothetical system--a necessary one, I suppose--that establishes sthg w/out being able to live out the actual consequences in time and space.

“You want a nice little bow on everythg, maybe - where the backslidden is definitely out of the family, and where the Visible Church IS the Invisible Church.”

Actually, we believe that the Invisible Church is triumphant, in heaven, and the visible church is militant, on earth. We also believe that the chaff is very much with the wheat in the Church militant, so really not all who are in the Church militant are actually in the Church militant.

”This is not the first time I've been justified in accusing EOdox of humanistic reasoning.”

I’m sorry; I don’t follow.

”So you get to question God if you're part of the One True Church? Where's that in Sacred Apostolic Tradition?”

You misunderstand me. But first--this “One True Church” polemic is rather tired (I understand that you get it from zealous web apologists more often than you’d like, but we can leave it alone for our purposes, as such a label is horribly ill-defined and nuances would need to be unpacked were one to use the phrase)--suffice it to say that, regardless of ecclesial affiliation (or complete lack thereof), one of the things that folks most wish to know is why they’re suffering the way they’re suffering. What’s the point? If God’s really there, why does my mother suffer like this? Why is my life so hard and his isn’t, if God really loves us all the same? Why do I have to endure all this sorrow and others live a charmed life? And on and on. This has no answer, and man cannot really call God into account because of it. Man can only endure and trust in the One who, though He screamed the greatest “Why?!” of human history on behalf of all mankind, He still ended on the note of commending His spirit into the One who’d abandoned Him.

“If it's any consolation, the spiritually dead are just that - dead. They don't really stop to ask themselves that question.”

That is one phrase used, yes, in Ephesians 2 and Colossians. Romans 5.6 calls them “weak,” though, so the picture is more nuanced than you make it, I would say.

¡Cristo Ha Resucitado!

Three-Day Pascha

We have read the Passion narratives from all four gospels. Christ, the eternal, immutable Word, eternally begotten of the Beginningless Father, has ascended of His own will onto the wood of the Cross and, in His humanity, that immutable Word has suffered. The word, in its patristic sense, is much deeper, as it does not refer simply to physical pain. Rather, this word refers to any change that a body can undergo; for those in late antiquity, the idea of an immutable, ethereal deity suffering in any way was antithetical. The gods could no more experience change than humans could experience the flight that birds enjoy; it was contrary to their nature.

Yet here He is: the eternal Word, the Voice of the Father which always accomplishes that which He desires (in this case, an abysmal failure in the eyes of the world). He is the One Who, unassailable, was the agent of our creation by the will of the Father, a Father Who has always spoken nothing else but Him. He has, in flesh He made intrinsic to Himself, thirsted, screamed, twisted, and drowned on the Wood.

Should God so desire, I will see the beauty of the Lord's resurrection, I will know the festal shout. I will not be checking back in until that time. I wish all who will celebrate the Lord's resurrection this coming Sunday a joyous feast, and all those who will move through His three-day Pascha of Cross, Grave, and Resurrection a brightly sorrowful time of mourning as we wait for our Comfort.

Help Father Nathan

David W at Pious Fabrications brought this priest to my attention; Fr. Nathan and his parishioners are the process of being received into the Antiochian Western Rite Vicariate from Old Catholicism. He is very active in helping the poor and needy around him; as this is (Lord willing) the type of life my family and I will be engaged in, I think any help we could send his way would be beneficial (I checked references; if anyone wants some regarding donations, you can email me). His contact info is at the end of the video.

Talk about using the media of today to reach the hurting and downtrodden. God bless the man's efforts...

Bridegroom Bellies

Tonight, Hope attended her first Bridegroom Matins. She fell asleep for about the last quarter of it, poor thing.

She is getting to the age where she questions why we go to church. Why we go to Church a lot. Why we go to church...and other family members don't. Or why they go to different kinds of churches.

And she's a typical kid. Church is long. Church is boring (except when, like last Sunday, she went in procession around Three Hierarchs' Chapel with her palm branch). So cool.

Oh, she's smart. Smart enough to know that Mommy and Papi think church is way important, so she's not going to say too much against church. And she does love communion; she's always disappointed if we go to church and there's not going to be communion (Kate is more of a coffee hour junkie at the moment, incidentally).

So we walked, just she and I, down the hill and around the creek to the seminary chapel. Kids have a marvelous way of helping you cut through the crap. "What's 'Bridegroom'?" she asks.

"Well," I answer in Spanish, "a novio is the boy that a girl gets married to. And, um, does the girl go back and live with her mommy and papi after getting married, or does she live with her husband?"

"Her husband!" she says with a smile. The very thought of its being otherwise is silly, as she has seen Mommy and Papi's wedding album and knows about these things as only a 4 ("and a half!") year-old can.

"Right. Well, Jesus is our novio, and we were in our boxes"--this is how we refer to coffins, as she knows about death--"but He loves us so much that He comes down to our boxes after He goes to the Cross, and He does that to bring us back up to His home."

"¿El cielo?"

"Sí, mami."

"Why did He go to the Cross?"

"Because of us."

"Why did we put Him on the Cross?"

"Well, our sins keep us in our boxes."

"So, He has to come and limpiar el mugre of us?"

"That's right."

No response after that. It's these kind of things that keep parents up. I know that there's no guarantee on a tit-for-tat, "Your kids will stay faithful as long as you do" arrangement with God. But something basic, something foundational, for her to hold on to, for her to grapple with an elementary context of faith and thus come to grips with the One who trampled down death by death for her, for us...this is what I hope for.

Another no-responder (though I swear she'll bring this stuff up a month, six months, a year from now): She looked up at Fr. John Behr, decked out in black vestments with the gospel book perched in front of him on the head of a deacon and, while he read a diatribe against the Pharisees that would make any seminarian cringe, she turned and asked me:

"Papi, how do they [the clergy] know God?"

I said the only thing I knew to say: "De la Biblia y de la Comunión, Mami, igual que todos nosotros."

Through the opening of the Scriptures, and the breaking of the Bread.

The Jordanville Prayerbook says that, when making the sign of the Cross, we "touch the brow, the belly, and the right and left shoulders, and make a slight bow." One of the first things I noticed about Orthodox praxis was the markedly different way in which Eastern Rite Christians made the sign of the Cross. Not only was it "backwards" in terms of the shoulders, but the tendency of Roman Catholics to touch the chest was different from the usually larger Cross the Orthodox made on themselves. That we are to crucify our bellies is a huge part of who we are (or should be) as Orthodox Christians.

Metropolitan Jonah came to SVS for the Feast of the Annunciation and, in his homily, spoke of how the Mother of God had believed the word of the Lord and, because of that, the Word was made flesh. We are all called, being members of the Church that is to be the Virgin--giving herself to no one but Her Bridegroom--and the Mother--the spiritual nourisher and the place of our birth into the Kingdom of God--to hear the Word of God by which all men live and, in seeing it as being the chief upholder of our life, break ourselves of our reflexive addiction to creature comforts, approval ratings, midnight fridge raids or anything else--and thus prepare a manger in our souls for the Word of God who comes to be formed and born in us.

Yet we know that we are "not worthy nor sufficient that [God] shouldst enter under [our roofs] into the habitation of [our souls], for [they are] all deserted and in ruins and...not a fitting place" for the divine One Who has come through hearing to lay His head. The faith has been planted, the confession made, the kerygma believed. It is in the community of like-confessing brethren that the fruit of that labor of faith comes to pass. As Fr. Alexander Schmemann said (and here I paraphrase because my copy of his journals is in a dark room with a sleeping pregnant woman and I dare not tread to get it), in the early Church, Christ was brought to be mystically present in the Eucharist because He was really present in the midst of the people's common, confessed faith; nowadays Christ is thought to be present because of what the Eucharist is, all by itself. We hear and we receive. We act on what we hear and we rejoice, for at the end of it, we can taste and see that the Lord is good.

So really, I pray that the word spoken to Mary and rejoiced over by Elizabeth makes its way into my little Elizabeth's ears and heart, so that, when she comes to the Cup, she is ever more partaking of that which confirms, and is confirmed by, the preaching which fills her soul and body more than bread alone could ever fill her belly.

The Cup of Christ, by St. Ignatius Brianchaninov

I received the following in an email from Fr. John Mikita, the rector of St. John of Damascus Orthodox Church, directly before Clean Week. With our entry into Holy Week, it seems this is appropriate reading yet again.

*******************************

Two beloved disciples asked the Lord for thrones of glory, and He gave them His Cup (Matt. 20:23).

The Cup of Christ is suffering. But for those who drink from it on earth, the Cup of Christ grants participation in Christ's Kingdom. It prepares for them the thrones of eternal glory in heaven. We stand in silence before the Cup of Christ, nor can any man complain about it or reject it; for He, Who commanded us to taste it, first drank of it Himself.

O tree of knowledge of good and evil! You killed our ancestors in Paradise, you deceived them by the delusions of sensual pleasure and the delusions of reason. Christ, the Redeemer of the fallen, brought His Cup of Salvation into this world --- to the fallen and to those who are exiled from Paradise.

The bitterness of this Cup cleanses the heart from forbidden, destructive and sinful pleasure. Through the humility that flows from it in abundance, the pride of understanding on the carnal level is mortified. To him who drinks from the Cup with faith and patience, the eternal life, which was -and still is - lost to him by his tasting of forbidden fruit, will be restored.

I will accept the Cup of Christ --- the cup of salvation.

The Cup is accepted when the Christian bears earthly tribulation in the spirit of humility learnt from the Gospel. St. Peter turned swiftly with a naked sword to defend the God-Man, Who was surrounded by evil doers; but Jesus said to Peter: "Put up thy sword into the sheath: the cup which My Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?" (John 18:11).

So, too, when disaster surrounds you, you should comfort and strengthen your soul, saying, "The Cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" The Cup is bitter: at first sight all human reasoning is confounded. Surmount reason by faith and drink courageously from the bitter Cup: it is the Father Who gives it to you, He who is all good and all wise. It is neither the Pharisees, nor Caiaphas, nor Judas who prepared the Cup; it is neither Pilate nor his soldiers who give it! "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?"

Pharisees think evil, Judas betrays, Pilate orders the unlawful killing, the soldiers of the government execute his order. Through their evil deeds all these prepared their own true perdition. Do not prepare for yourself just such a perdition by remembering evil, by longing for and dreaming of revenge, and by indignation against your enemies. The heavenly Father is almighty and all-seeing. He sees your affliction, and if He had found it necessary and profitable to withdraw the Cup from you, He would certainly have done so.

The Lord - as the Scriptures and Church history testify - has often allowed afflictions to befall His beloved, and often warded off afflictions from them, in accordance with the unfathomable ways of Providence. When you are faced with the Cup, turn your gaze from the people who gave it to you; lift up your eyes to Heaven and say: "The Cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?"

"I will take the cup of salvation..." (Psalm 115: 4 [LXX]) I cannot reject the Cup --- the promise of heavenly and eternal good. The Apostle of Christ teaches me patience when he says: "...we must through much tribulation enter into the Kingdom of God" (Acts 14:22). How can we reject the Cup, which is the means of attaining this Kingdom and growing with it? I will accept the Cup --- the gift of God. For the Cup of Christ is the gift of God. The great Paul writes to the Philippians: "For unto you is given in behalf of Christ, not only to believe on Him, but also to suffer for His sake" (Phil. 1:29).

You receive the Cup, which seemingly comes from the hand of man. What is it to you whether the bearer of the Cup acts righteously or unrighteously? As a follower of Jesus, your concern is: to act righteously; to receive the Cup with thanksgiving to God and with a living faith; and to courageously drink it to the dregs.

In receiving the Cup from the hand of man, remember it is the Cup of Him, Who is not only innocent but All-Holy. Thinking on this, remind yourself, and other suffering sinners, of the words that the blessed and enlightened thief spoke when he was crucified on the right hand of the crucified God-Man: "We receive the due reward of our deeds... Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom" (Luke 23:41-42). And then, turning to the people, you will say to them: Blessed are you who are instruments of righteousness and of God's mercy, blessed are you from henceforth and for ever! (If they are not in a fit state to understand and receive your words, do not cast your precious pearls of humility under the feet of those who cannot value them, but say these words in thought and heart.) By this alone will you fulfill the commandment of the Gospel which says: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you..." (Matt. 5:44).

Pray to the Lord on behalf of those who have insulted and outraged you that what they have done for you should be repaid by a temporal blessing and the eternal reward of salvation, and that, when they stand before Christ to be judged, it should be counted to them as if it had been an act of virtue. Although your heart does not wish to act in this way, compel it to do so, because only those who do violence to their own heart, in fulfilling the commandments of the Gospel, can inherit Heaven.

If you have not the will to act in this way, then you have not the will to be a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. Look deep within yourself and consider searchingly: have you not found another teacher, the teacher of hatred - the devil - and fallen under his power?

It is a terrible transgression to offend or to oppress one's neighbor: it is a most terrible transgression to commit murder. But whoever hates his oppressor, his slanderer, his betrayer, his murderer, and whoever thinks ill of them and takes revenge on them, commits a sin very near to their sin. In vain does he pretend to himself and others that he is righteous. Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer of man, proclaimed St. John, the beloved disciple of Christ (I John 3:15).

A living faith in Christ teaches one to receive the Cup of Christ, and the Cup of Christ inspires hope in the heart of him who receives it; and hope in Christ gives strength and consolation to the heart. What torment, what torment of hell, to complain or to murmur against the Cup that is pre-ordained from above! Murmuring, impatience, faintheartedness and especially despair are sins before God --- they are the ugly children of sinful disbelief.

It is sinful to complain of neighbors, when they are the instruments of our suffering; still more sinful is it when we cry out against the Cup that comes down to us straight from Heaven --- from the right hand of God.

But he who drinks the cup - with thanksgiving to God and blessings on his neighbor - achieves holy serenity --- the grace of the peace of Christ. It is as if already he enjoys God's spiritual Paradise.

Temporal suffering has no importance in itself: we lend it significance because of our attachment to the earth and to all corruptible things, and through our coldness towards Christ and eternity. You are prepared: to bear the bitter and repellent taste of medicines; to bear the painful amputation and cauterization of your limbs; to bear the long drawn out suffering of hunger, and prolonged seclusion in your room. You are prepared to bear all this to restore lost health to your body, which after it is healed will certainly become ill again, and will certainly die and become corrupt. Bear, then, the bitterness of the Cup of Christ, which brings healing and eternal beatitude to your immortal soul.

If the Cup appears to you to be unbearable, deadly, then it reveals that although you bear Christ's name, you do not belong to Christ. For the true followers of Christ, the Cup of Christ is the Cup of joy. Thus, the holy apostles - after having been beaten before the gathering of the elders of the Jews - went out from the presence of the council rejoicing --- that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for the Name of the Lord Jesus (Acts 5:40-41).

Righteous Job heard bitter news. Tiding after tiding came to pierce his steadfast heart; the last of these was the hardest: all his sons and daughters had been struck down suddenly by a cruel and violent death. In his great sorrow, he rent his clothes and covered his head with ashes. And then - in submissive faith - he fell down upon the ground, and worshipped the Lord saying, "I myself came naked from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, the Lord has taken away: as it seemed good to the Lord, so has it come to pass; blessed be the name of the Lord."

Lázaro, Ven Fuera

Blessed Feast!

Troparion - Tone 4

Today is the beginning of our salvation,

The revelation of the eternal mystery!

The Son of God becomes the Son of the Virgin

As Gabriel announces the coming of Grace.

Together with him let us cry to the Theotokos:

Rejoice, O Full of Grace,

The Lord is with You!

Kontakion - Tone 8

O Victorious Leader of Triumphant Hosts!

We, your servants, delivered from evil, sing our grateful thanks to you, O Theotokos!

As you possess invincible might, set us free from every calamity

So that we may sing: Rejoice, O unwedded Bride!

One of the things that this feast always brings to mind the Akathistos hymn to the Theotokos--one of the most glorious proclamations of the Gospel, the Kingdom of God which is with us now. The Kontakion above is chanted at the beginning and end of it; how odd it is that, this year for New Calendar folks, the hymn was sung last Saturday and Annunciation follows it. Definitely not typical; this will be the only time this century when Pascha falls on April 4th -- the absolute earliest day on which Pascha could occur.

Another thought the feast usually brings up for me is how much it impressed itself on the mind of Fr. Alexander Schmemann, how otherworldly and transcendent the feast was for him. From his journals:

"Sunday night and Monday we celebrated the Feast of the Annunciation--a breakthrough of radieant eternity with the voice of the Archangel. How difficult to preserve the feast, to live by its light! Once the celebration is over, everything contrives to stifle the silence, the peace, the light of the feast and pushes one into the usual hustle." (Wed. 27 Mar 1974)

"Feast of the Annunciation--my most loved of all loved feasts! Standing in the sanctuary during the Vigil listening to these exultant hymns: "...proclaim, O Earth, the news of a great joy; sing, O Heavens, the glory of the Lord," I thought: How could there be problems? Doesn't our whole life consist in accepting and assimilating this joy from on high, in making it ours, in seeing and accepting this joy as eternally new?" (Fri. 25 Mar 1977)

A blessed feast to all who celebrate it today, and may our upcoming journey from Lazarus' Tomb to Christ's be a blessed one.

Thoughts on Sola Fide, God's "Tough Love"

Long-time friend and commenter Rhology has asked me if my brief line concerning sola fide is actually representative of my thoughts concerning it. True, it was a throw-away line, and yes, it needs to be unpacked.

I get it that, properly engaged, sola fide means to lead the believer to a life of holiness. That it means that "true faith" will "flip a switch" whereby the true believer will become sanctified (though how quickly and how thoroughly in this life is never addressed).

The problem with this is that it's all a psychological construct. There's not a way to know that you've actually come across true faith. Reformers tend to quote the admonition to "make one's calling and election sure," but if you aren't sure of your calling's permanence to begin with, and if you have to make your calling and election sure (active verb), then what's the point of acting as if you're actually sure of salvation?

Sure, you can say you're "pretty sure," even admit you're "not 100% sure, but pretty dang close," but then again, that's no assurance. From your point of view, you can't be sure that you're not actually damned now, but just completely deluding your own self before you wind up abandoning God later on.

What I'm saying, then, is this: Sola Fide may be a good concept on paper, but it's not how anybody actually lives out their Christian life. Everyone knows, whether by gut instinct or life experience or James 2.22 that faith must be made perfect by works.

Darlene also asked about my quoting the Ochlophobist's post, as she was concerned (among other things) about the "hopeless" tone therein.

I linked to Och's article because it is a stellar example of someone who has struggled with the untenable position of "really, really, really knowing that I'm saved" business and found it wanting, and I can relate to that. But more than that, there's the idea of a real lack of a mindfulness of hell in American religion in general, even in (and at times, especially in) Orthodoxy. We have things like The River of Fire and Romanides' Patristic Theology which, for all their good points, make unqualified statements that say that God has no wrath and that hell is just love experienced negatively. And it's dangerous to talk that way, because Scripture doesn't talk that way at all, and making statements like that without qualifying or explaining them is extremely unwise and unpastoral, I think. (For a very balanced treatment, in my opinion, of the subject, reference the audio files of some talks by Fr. Thomas Hopko in this old post of mine, as well as this post on Athanasius from the day after).

Is the Orthodox view of salvation hopeless? I don't think so. From a post I put both on this blog and (originally) on a discussion forum:

"When you take the stated doctrine of having all your sins completely and permanently wiped out, forever, of never having to deal with any kind of ascetic effort in order to arrive at purification and sanctification, and are 'free' to rejoice in a perceived spiritual perfection that God has granted you apart from any obedience you may or may not have actually walked in -- well, as virtual and artificial as it may sound when I put it that way, it does make for a VERY grateful reaction on the part of the believer. 'He who has been forgiven much, loves much,' and all that. The Evangelical perceives that his sins have been declared null and void through the legal transaction of the blood of Christ before the Father, and so they are free simply to rejoice in an already finished righteousness, an already guaranteed place in heaven. Couple this grateful state with AGRESSIVE memorization of proof-texts that seem to bolster this teaching, and you have the added rush of thinking that God's biblical stamp of approval supports the idea, adding confidence to enthusiastic gratitude.

"It is difficult, then, to put Orthodoxy next to that and say, 'Christ has died and risen again; through baptism we are brought into His Kingdom so that we would have the POTENTIAL of working out our salvation with fear and trembling, making every effort to enter into the rest He prepared for us through His Passion and Resurrection. The enemy, however, still prowls around as the wolf of souls, seeking to make us his prey, so we must be ever mindful of sinful habits that remain in our lives, as they could be occasion for the enemy to gain a foothold. Our life in Christ consists of constant vigilance, constant repentance, constant participation in the sacramental life of the Church, and constant sorrow and (should God grant) true tears of repentance over our state as 'chief of sinners' so that we might gain times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord which is the comfort for those who have mourned.'

"Evangelicals will say that this gospel has been tried and found wanting, pointing to the Orthodox hierarchs' and clergy's moral failure, as well as the laity's laxity and lack of fervor in studying about and participating in their faith outside of services. I would say that the faith is not so much tried and found wanting as it has been found difficult and left untried."

I'm convinced, Darlene, that though the Orthodox Church will not state the comfortable teaching found in Calvinism of a guaranteed place in heaven which one can know about in this life--and in doing so they make hell a very real part of the whole picture--it is better to have uncomfortable truth than a comfortable lie when it comes to God.

God Is No Fool

Fr. Stephen Freeman and John of the Commonplace Book have commented on Peter Hitchen's road to faith, and our friendly neighborhood Ochlophobist has commented on the fear of hell which Hitchen seemed to perceive through a particular image of Rogier van der Weyden.

I never bought the idea that, because of sola fide, my works had no effect on my life, nor my eternal life. I can relate to much of what Owen has written.

My grandmother--may her memory be eternal--had a book called "God is No Fool," which I remember reading as a young boy. I do not remember reading a book that resonated with me nearly as profoundly as that one. That I would end up in a faith that continually keeps one in a state of tension between "You are merciful and desire not the death of a sinner," and "My bones are strewn near hell" is not surprising.

What is ironic (and very, very sad) about this particular devotional jewel of the late sixties is that the new, 2009 printing has moved away, it seems, both from the wonderful cover and the even better subtitle ("WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE KIDDING?") that I remember from my grandmother's copy. I dearly hope that the editors in charge who have chosen to replace this cover...

...with this brighter, cheerier, cover...

...and have taken away the subtitle have left the text within untouched.

I found some of the excerpts from the book online that offer a taste of the work:

They say that God has infinite patience,
And that is a great comfort.
They say God is always there,
And that is a deep satisfaction.
They say that God will always take you back,
And I get lazy in that certitude.
They say that God never gives up,
And I count on that.
They say you can go away for years and years,
And He’ll be there, waiting, when you come back.
They say you can make mistake after mistake,
And God will always forgive and forget.
They say lots of things,
these people who never read the Old Testament.
There comes a time,
A definite, for-sure time,
When God turns around.
I don’t believe God shed His skin
When Christ brought in the New Testament;
Christ showed us a new side of God,
And it is truly wonderful.
But He didn’t change God.
God remains forever and ever,
And that God is no fool.

And again:

Who would I be? If I were then?

Would I stand on the curb and watch him go by?
Would I have knocked off for the afternoon to see what he had to say?
Would I have raised my eyebrows and wondered what all the excitement was about?
Would I have stood with a few on the corner and wondered pettishly, when were the authorities going to put a stop to this thing before it got out of hand!
Would I have drunk it all in, and been wide-eyed and wide-hearted with wonder?
Would I have clinched my opinion as soon as I saw he was associating with some of "those" kinds of people?
Would I have smiled benevolently at the stories of wonders and healings?
Would I have wanted to get his autograph?
Would I have stood aside and waited thoughtfully--oh so thoughtfully--for him to prove himself fact or fiction?.......
Isn't it nice to be here, now, for we can't make those mistakes.

God have mercy on us.
God have mercy on us.

And, yet again:

The pain of pain is disappointment, for it cannot be taped or healed or cut away. Dull, creeping out of nowhere, it settles and seeps, covering heart, mind and perspective.

The task that loomed as special, glowing with promise and challenge, slips into meaninglessness. The task aimed at, sought for, planned on, arrives; and what glowed is tarnished, and what beckoned seems hollow. And disappointment smothers.

The eyes that loomed as special, glowing with warmth and shared moments, slip into the sea of uncaring eyes. Moments awaited, arrive; and untrue words rattle aimlessly around the room. What seemed real now appears false; what appeared expansive now narrows. And disappointment smothers.

One could become angry and feel cheated in the disappointments that move into hopes, dreams, and daily steps. One could turn hard, cold--except for two questions.

How many times do others watch me in dull disappointment?
How often do the eyes of Christ look on, throbbing in disappointment?

God have mercy on us.

I cringe when I read the description on Amazon for the 2009 printing:

"In 1969, "God is No Fool" delighted readers, consoled them, provoked them and inspired them to consider God and life in new ways. The short musings in the book are funny, earnest, loving, probing and full of joy. Reading this book, you will embark on a journey whose ultimate destination is a better understanding of faith, people and the world around you. On the 40th anniversary of the original publication, Lois Cheney's reflections are as powerful and necessary as ever."

God have mercy on us.
God have mercy on us.

On Spanish Greeks and Palamite Parishes

I am up later than I probably should be, but am taking the time now after having cranked out the entirety of one paper (due Wednesday) and the majority of another, longer one (due Thursday, but will consult with prof on Wednesday regarding content, interpretation, etc). The latter paper is for a class in iconology with Richard Schneider, a class which I am enjoying immensely, for more than one reason. Firstly, prior to taking this course, I was entirely unfamiliar both with the structure of literary rhetoric and with how such rhetoric was purposefully reflected in visual art. The class is quite rigorous; much new terminology to memorize and apply. Secondly, I am receiving a course on the conventions of visual art--focusing mainly on Christian iconography, of course--from a man who teaches concurrently at the University of Toronto and is a respected figure in his field. It is an excellent way to try to get ahead in my M.Div. program.

Living just to the north of New York City puts events within striking distance that only come to this continent once in a lifetime. One such event was the display at the Onassis Cultural Center. (NY Times review HERE). On display were several byzantine icons from Venetian Crete, as well as several icons from Andreas Pavias, Michael Damaskenos, and Giorgios Klontzas, and (the main attraction) icons and paintings from Domenikos Theotokopoulos, better known to the world as El Greco. His recension of the Dormition of the Virgin is seen to the right, with the triple figura of the Theotokos as corpse, newly-borne soul, and enthroned Queen of Heaven. I remember studying El Greco in my AP Spanish Literature course, though we mostly covered his better-known works (which were reviled in his day) such as Coronation of the Virgin and the Burial of the Count of Orgaz. It is interesting how the elongated figures of his later works are a sort of superimposition of Byzantine, iconographic elongation upon manneristic, natural depiction. Also interesting to see was the way in which the starving artists of Crete and Venice catered to their patrons (the Roman Catholic ruling minority) and painted composite works with byzantine, hieratic axes flanked by extremely narrative, emotive western figurae.

Hope went with me (she was eager for some Papi time and I for some one-on-one daughter time) and, bless her heart, was great. We rode the subway in and walked about a half a mile. Hope is quite easily one of the most observant children I have ever known, with one of the best memories. She was incredibly involved in the images once we got to the display, and not just from getting a "head start" on these scenes from church. She got several comments from fellow observers who were impressed by the things she pointed out. Mimesis is definitely one of this kid's strong suits. We took a break and had lunch in the outside corridor (PB&J), then went back in for the rest of the images. I do believe the high point for me was standing in front of Giorgios Klontzas' work In Thee Rejoiceth (pictured left) and, crossing myself, singing the hymn it depicted (known to most English-speaking Orthodox as "All of Creation Rejoiceth in You").

Today we travelled to Glen Gardner, NJ for Divine Liturgy and had the pleasure of meeting the warm, faithful brethren at St. Gregory Palamas Church (mentioned in a previous post as the generous souls who "adopted" us during the Christmas season. We had sent them pictures of the girls opening their gifts and were surprised to find them up on display in their hall (they did not know we were coming, though I had left a message). Father Thomas was concelebrating with Fr. Paul Shafran, a priest of many faithful years and one of the first graduates of my current place of studies. Again Hope proved interesting. She looked at the aged priest and, turning to me with a crinkled nose, said, "But he's so old, Papi!"

"Yes, and that is why we must be so nice to him and do what he says, because he knows better." It is interesting that, somehow (Lord, help her) Hope has picked up on the notion that old people are somehow less, that they are not to be listened to or heeded. The Church has, of late, been a link to things beyond us, before us, both in pictoral witness of eternal things and living examples of steadfastness in the Vineyard. Wisdom...

A Homily, Taken From My Parish's Newsletter

(Please also click on the icon to the right for a pastoral message from Metropolitan JONAH for the start of Great Lent. Blessed Fast to all. Forgive me if I have offended you.)

**********************************

Forgiveness Sunday
+ Metropolitan Anthony Bloom

On February 14 this year we commemorate Forgiveness Sunday, the last day prior to Great Lent, and the last of five Pre-Lenten Sundays. Several lessons are stressed by the Church as we stand on the threshold of the Fast. Metropolitan Anthony (of blessed memory) offers some thoughts in the following sermon.

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

"Today two themes dominate the readings of the Holy Scriptures. St Paul speaks to us about fasting, and the Lord about forgiveness. St Paul insists on the fact that fasting does not consist simply of depriving oneself of one form of food or another. Neither does it, if it is kept strictly, obediently, worshipfully, give us any ground to be proud of ourselves, satisfied and secure, because the aim of fasting is not to deprive our body of one form of food rather than the other, the aim of fasting is to acquire mastery over our body and make it a perfect instrument of the spirit. Most of the time we are slaves of our bodies, we are attracted by our senses to one form or another of enjoyment, but of an enjoyment that goes far beyond the purity that God expects of us.

"And so, the period of fasting offers us a time during which we can say not that I will torment my body, that I will limit myself in things material, but a time when I will re-acquire mastery of my body, make it a perfect instrument. The comparison that comes to my mind is that of tuning a musical instrument; this is what fasting is, to acquire the power not only to command our body, but also to give our body the possibility to respond to all the promptings of the spirit.

"Let us therefore go into fasting with this understanding, not measuring our fasting by what we eat and how much, but of the effect it has on us, whether our fasting makes us free or whether we become slaves of fasting itself.

"If we fast let us not be proud of it, because it proves simply that we need more perhaps than another person to conquer something in our nature. And if around us other people are not fasting let us not judge them, because God has received the ones as He receives the others, because it is into the heart of men that He looks.

"And then there is the theme of forgiveness, of which I will say only one short thing. We think always of forgiveness as a way in which we would say to a person who has offended, hurt, humiliated us, that the past is past and that we do not any more hold a grudge against this person. But what forgiveness means more deeply than this is that if we can say to a person, let us no longer make the past into a destructive present, let me trust you, make an act of faith in you, if I forgive you it means in my eyes you are not lost, in my eyes there is a future of beauty and truth in you.

"But this applies also to us. Perversely, we think very often of forgiving others, but we do not think sufficiently of the need in which we are, each of us personally, of being forgiven by others. We have a few hours left between the Liturgy and the Service of Forgiveness tonight, let us reflect and try to remember, not the offences which we have suffered, but the hurts which we have caused. And if we have hurt anyone in one way or another, in things small or great, let us make haste before we enter into Lent tomorrow morning, let us make haste to ask to be forgiven, to hear someone say to us: in spite of all that has happened I believe in you, I trust you, I hope for you and I will expect everything from you. And then we can go together through Lent helping one another to become what we are called to be, disciples of Christ, following Him step by step to Calvary, and beyond Calvary to the Resurrection. Amen."

More Songs to the Shepherd

In keeping with tradition, my elder daughter Hope is still singing like she has done before (See HERE for her latest hit).

Simeon Lawrence, or Laura Louise

October 19th, Lord willing. Glory to God.

Back Again, With an Appeal at the End

Thanks be to God, we arrived back in NY safely on the 18th. The typical whirlwind ensued as we unpacked and attempted to organize as quickly as possible for the upcoming semester, now in full swing. Very much enjoyed the time back home; while I cannot say it was restful (we did lots of driving in my uncle's car, which he graciously loaned us during our stay), it was wonderful to see family members, some of whom I'd not seen in over 15 years. We took a trip out to East Texas where we stayed the night with Hope's godparents; after a tragic loss of their second son, they are, God be praised, expecting again: another little boy, to be named John, God willing, after the good Vladyka of Shanghai and San Francisco. Had a good sit down over homemade quesadillas with some friends from the Tyler mission at their home, and then went out with all of them and with John of the Commonplace Book to a great little dive called the Purple Pig.

Travels then took us up to Oklahoma City for my (half-)sister's wedding. When people ask how the ceremony was, I tell them something to the effect of, "Quick." She, being one not committed to any faith to speak of, and her husband, with whom she has already had a child (a beautiful baby boy named Jibril whom I'm proud to call my nephew), being a convert to Islam, had to compromise quite a bit, as she did not want to be married in a mosque, nor he in a church. They were therefore married in an event center by a hospital chaplain in a ceremony that took no more than 20 minutes. There was a reading from the Quran--the safe equivalent, it seemed to me, of a mainline Protestant Church's reading of 1 Corinthians 13--but apart from that, there was nothing overtly spiritual about it; the primary purpose was an acknowledgment of their commitment to each other and not so much a petition to God for union. Would that it had been otherwise, but thank God that the commitment is, indeed, there nonetheless. My prayers still go up for little Jibril, however, anytime I see an icon of the good Archangel. I would appreciate yours, as well.

Last Sunday was the Sunday of Zacchaeus, and thus marked the first Sunday of the Ecclesial (and Civil) New Year in which all Orthodox Christians commemorate the same thing on the same day. Not only was I aware of this, but I was blessed to spend this morning in worship at St. Benedict Orthodox Church, the ROCOR parish in Oklahoma City, OK, and so the aligning of the calendars was brought into much starker relief for me; I heard the epistles and gospels for the 32nd Sunday after Pentecost and for the Sunday before Theophany (the latter of which I'd heard just shy of a fortnight before at SVS), but then the story of the wee little man in the Sycamore Tree came as a sort of resolution to the dissonance. A wonderful, tiny parish it is, in a quite poor area of town, with something I'd not seen, even in ROCOR parishes: the sexes worshiped separately, of course, but this separation included the choir, as well, with a handful of women at music stands on the left complementing a handful of men on the right, all of whom were conducted from a kliros on the left at the hand of their directress, who was the wife of Aaron over at the incomparable blog Logismoi, whom I also met. A joyous, peaceful morning, followed by lunch and catching up at the house of the best man at my wedding, Alan, author of the blog Rhoblogy. Audra has said it before, and it's definitely proven true again: blogs may be a commitment to keep up, and sometimes they may even intrude on other things (like sleep, which is not such a bad idea right about now), but the ability to use them to connect with flesh-and-blood people, to be able to go almost anywhere and already have an acquaintance (who, in my experience, instantly becomes a friend) is of inestimable value. I have been blessed through the people I've met on the blogosphere.

Father Anthony, the rector of St. Benedict Church, read a report on the Haitian Orthodox Mission, and how the two priests there--Fr. Jean Chenier-Dumais, and Fr. Gregoire Legouté--were receiving reinforcements following a Missions Conference of ROCOR clergy in St. Louis. We have learned that both priests stationed in Haiti survived the quake, as did the two priests there under the Ecumenical Patriarch, but the Orthodox faithful of Haiti are, like the rest of their countrymen, in a hellish situation the likes of which we cannot fathom. If you are still looking to donate something to a relief effort, I would implore you to heed the petition of Metropolitan Hilarion and donate to the ROCOR relief effort. May God grant that His Church not only survive, but that it will be strong enough to help, in whatever small, concrete way it can, to serve the sick and the dying with the love of Christ.

Home for Theophany

So...SO...glad to be back for (almost) two whole weeks. God bless Texas!

Memory Eternal, Resa

Resa Ellison, the daughter of Fr. James Ellison from Urbana, IL, a recent alumna of SVS and the choir director at St. Mary's Cathedral in Minneapolis, MN fell asleep in the Lord today after having been in a medical coma for a couple of months due to complications from H1N1. The Ellison family has experienced much tragic loss over the past few months; Resa's death is not the only one they've had to weather. Please keep her family in your prayers and put her name on your lists of the departed. May God make her memory to be eternal, and may her soul dwell with the blessed.

The Elder Paisios Speaks to Seminarians

"If a passionate man* tries to correct an egoist, steel hits flint and fires are ignited! If he tries to correct a sensitive person, he hurts him greatly. It would be like a wild man taking a thick wire brush to clean out a little mucus from a baby's eye."

"The goal of reading is the application, in our lives, of what we read. Not to learn it by heart, but to take it to heart. Not to practice using our tongues, but to be able to receive the tongues of fire and to live the mysteries of God. If one studies a great deal in order to acquire knowledge and to teach others, without living the things he teaches, he does no more than fll his head with hot air. At most he will manage to ascend to the moon using machines. The goal of the Christian is to rise to God without machines."

(Taken from Precious Vessels of the Holy Spirit).

*Passionate man: Not so much a man with a fiery temper as a man who is under the influence of his passions (among which are gluttony, lasciviousness, slothfulness, listlessness, and so on, in addition to anger).

Late Festal Greeings and an Update

A few days late, but nonetheless: Christ is Born! Glorify Him! Christos razhdaetsya! Slavite! Christos gennatai! Doxasate!

Life at SVS has been blissfully relaxed in the sense of being able to do some increased devotional exercises and leisure reading, but one should hardly think that life here is free from activities during the break. Services, of course, leading up to the blessed feast of our Lord's Nativity in the flesh have been a preoccupation (in a good way) over the past few weeks, with nightly vespers and little compline/Nativity kanon permeating the start of each night. A beautiful SVS tradition, and a blessed way to enter into the feast.

My mother has come up from Ft. Worth to visit for the holidays; she and Audra and the girls are currently at our apartment playing with Christmas toys; I am at the apartment of another seminary family who, having gone home for the holidays, has graciously offered us a much larger space in which we all can sleep and relax. God bless the Coxes. So good to have "Gammie" up here; the girls, of course, are so excited they could explode.

Was blessed to sing "God is with Us" during the Nativity Eve Great Compline service here. This is especially so because, in my house, I am known as something of a grinch when it comes to holiday music. I will not stand for anything after Thanksgiving, and even St. Nicholas Day is far too early (though I can understand those who see this as a launching off point), but around the 20th or 21st, the Church starts singing things such as "Let us celebrate the Nativity of our Lord in anticipation" during Vespers services, so at that point I really have no defense. Out come the stockings and Tchaikovsky. The SVS Hymns of Christmas CD, however, is one that is reserved for no earlier than Christmas morning. "God is with us" is our "cue" that Christmas has come, especially since we are, almost every year without exception, either in rural Texas or rural Kentucky with family and do not have occasion to attend Orthodox Nativity services. So the blessing to intone the triumphant words of Isaiah were quite meaningful.

Celebrations around campus have not disappointed. Those seminarian families who have hung around for some or even all of the holidays (many more than I had expected would stay) have all come together on more than one occasion already to lay out a festal spread. I have had the, erm, pleasure? (let's call it that because of the hospitible nature in which it was offered) to taste a Sam Adams Fizziwig's Ale. Fizzy is right. Much more to my liking was the Oban single malt whiskey, aged 14 years, courtesy of Fr. John Ballard, a fellow Texan, while over at another family's house. The libation tasted every bit its 14 years, leaving its delightful burn on the tip of the lips and full aftertaste in the back of the throat.

Grades, thank God, came back very satisfactory.

Church History, Liturgical Music, and Old Testament: A

Liturgical Theology, Patristics, and Liturgical Practica: A-

Integrating Seminar (P/F): P

GPA so far: 3.86. Glory to God.

It has been interesting to speak with other M.Div. candidates concerning attitudes towards course grades. The old joke gets passed around quite a lot: Q: What do you call an M.Div. student with C's and D-'s? A: A priest. Given that many are not looking to move any further in their studies beyond St. Vlad's -- I myself have vascillated on the point of persuing anything further barring necessity given my desire to go into parish life as fully as God would permit -- many have something of a ho-hum attitude regarding what their actual letter grades. Just enough to get me the degree, thanks. Throughout my time as a student I've been highly driven to do well in classes, regardless of the teacher or the "payoff" later. True, I'm a nerd. I embrace it fully. But it's served as a good reminder that no one is, in all probability, going to ask me to elaborate on Origen's teaching of the relation of the Son to the Father in everyday parish life. More important is my own becoming a man of prayer who can pray as the Church leads us to pray, shut up when he needs to (which is most of the time) and speak only when and as he should. Your prayers are coveted.

Am currently reading two quite different books which are both nonetheless enjoyable: Zorro: Una Novela por Isabela Allende and Precious Vessels of the Holy Spirit by Protecting Veil press (H/T to our good Ochlophobist on the latter). The introduction to Precious Vessels can be found HERE. I cannot express how marvelous it has been to "stretch my linguistic legs" again, as it were, and read a book --no, a story -- in Spanish. Ms. Allende is at her best again, with vibrant descriptive battle scenes and an intriguing beginning to Señor De La Vega's existence and his later identification with the indígenas of Mexico. Also grateful for the devotional material in Precious Vessels; the general emphasis of the book can be summed up in a short quote which it lists in the counsels of Elder Joseph the Hesychast: "No sacrifice is more fragrant in the sight of God than purity of body, which is realized through blood and great struggles." Buy this book and read it often.

We were blessed by the goodhearted folks at St. Gregory Palamas Orthodox Church who participated in the St. Nicholas Program, a Christmas charity program done for the benefit of married-with-children seminarian families. Between their requesting and filling our Christmas requests and eager grandparents concerned for their desperately poor children and grandchildren, there was much squealing coming from our house on Christmas morning. Some even came from folks other than myself. ;) Kate, as you can see, was rather fond of her new rain boots.

Today is both a landmark and a rare occasion for me. To the side of this post I have posted an icon, the hymns, and the information from oca.org regarding today's commemoration of the King and Prophet David, my heavenly patron. The Sunday after the Nativity is his commemoration, together with the Righteous Joseph the Betrothed and James, the Brother of the Lord. On years when Christmas falls on a Friday, however, it also happens to be my birthday. That this particular alignment happened to fall on the 30th anniversary of my birth, however, seems to make it all the more significant to me. I'm so thankful to God for His many blessings to me over these three decades. May He continue to show His mercy towards me in the coming time I have left.

A blessed festal period to all!

Memory Eternal

Thank you for standing up for your flock in times of need.

Thank you for living as an example of a true shepherd.

Thank for calling us to honesty and integrity as Christians.

Lord, grant rest to your servant, Job, and may his soul dwell with the blessed.

Many Years, Prayers

Send a "Many Years" to my beloved wife, Audra, who celebrates her birthday tomorrow. She can be reached at her blog, Just the Right Words (also in the sidebar).

May God also grant all us NYC Wootens many years on this, one of the two commemorations of our family patron, St. Herman of Alaska, shown to the right. His was a witness of forsaking material goods for love of the Word of God by which we truly live, and living that life amongst those who did not have it, yet wanted it when they saw the warmth of God in their "Apa." God grant us that same fidelity to His Word and the grace to live generously with all we're given. You can pray the Akathist to him HERE.

Prayers, finally, for yours truly, who will be starting finals tomorrow. I'll be signing off from the blogosphere between now and then, but your sending up a prayer or seven would be mighty appreciated.

Praying, Contra Slithers, in the Dark

My first semester's classes officially ended today. Papers turned in; here in a bit I'll start the reading for final exams next week (Prayers are coveted for this last hurdle), but since time to breathe can now be appreciated for the luxury it is--at least for an evening--I thought I'd attend the little compline service SVS has during weeknights of fasting seasons (Compline, by the way, is apparently not included in blogger's dictionary. Neither, apparently, is the possessive word, "blogger's." Or, rather, it is, but only when quotes are around it. Sigh.)

I was scheduled to read little compline this past Monday, and the quiet, somber, and quite dark service impressed me, having only been to compline services at night either at Holy Archangels or in conjunction with a service such as Canon of St. Andrew. I came back tonight, as it was the final compline service before Christmas Break.

Praying in the dark is iconic. Rather, praying in the quiet dark is iconic. There's something to be said for the fact that, in most all other confessions of Christianity, when the faithful gather to pray, the lights are on and the volume is up. Or--as was the case in some "punk rock 'praise' services" I had the misfortune to attend (twice and only twice)--if they are dark, they are noisy and violent. Tonight the chanting was purposefully subdued, quieter than usual, movement was almost non-existent. The soft, throbbing candlelight illumined the faces of the saints and their Lord, who looked at us with established souls led by the Guiding Spirit.

Father Andrew Cuneo was the priest presiding over the service tonight. The man seems to walk around with compline in his soul. To watch the man come and pick up a large, lit candle and stand, petitioning, before the new Adam and the new Eve, in the dark, took me aback. When the lights are on, when the volume is up, when the projecter screens are blaring, the illusion of stability, of strength is easier to swallow. When it's dark and quiet, you fight against blindness, you fight against sleep, you fight against cold--in short, you feel your limitations much more acutely when it's dark. Yet this man prayed. The women at the Cross prayed in a moment darker than any other. It would seem that the goal of every Christian is to press on in faithful, continued prayer, especially in the dark of our hearts, when we feel all our passions slithering around and want to recoil, want to jump, want to react somehow to stave off having to feel that slither. Yet the ability to move in calm, sovereign freedom while one's bowels slither and clench in rebellion is the onus of every Christian. I would posit that this responsibility can only be fulfilled as our Lord would have it when it is still, quiet, and dark, for this external setting is the only worthy reflection of the landscape of hearts held in a place of need of warm illumination.

Rich Mullins...

"God calls us to 'be strong' and we mistake that for a call to omnipotence. We confuse strength to endure trials with an ability to walk unfrustrated through life. We convince ourselves that if we were strong we would never fail, never tire, never hurt, never need. We being to measure strength in terms of ease of progress, equate power with success, endurability with invincibility and inevitably, when our illusions of omnipotence is shattered, we condemn ourselves for being weak.

"God has called us to be lovers and we frequently think that He meant us to be saviors. So we 'love' as long as we see 'results.' We give of ourselves as long as our investments pay off, but if the ones we love do not respond, we tend to despair and blame ourselves and even resent those we pretend to love. Because we love someone, we want them to be free of addictions, of sin, of self - and that is as it should be. But it might be that our love for them and our desire for their well-being will not make them well. And, if that is the case, their lack of response no more negates the reality of love than their quickness to respond would confirm it."

When needing to read, write, clean, pray, etc after the girls have gone to sleep, the slithers come out with suggestions of leisure and comfort. Audra was talking tonight about how in awe she was of women who could work full time, hold down family life, and be involved as matushki in parish life. When she said she didn't think she was that caliber of a lady, I said that one of the things I had to remind myself of regarding our relationship is that I cannot force her to just "tough it out" and push through fatigue; I'm her husband, not her drill instructor. Yet, the thing that we all have to face is the truth that Christ is calling us, in essence, to kick our own ass to some degree. My job, truly, is to kick my own ass the hardest to make it easier on the rest of the family.

Thus, when YouTube beckons, when Bejeweled calls, when ora et labora is challenged by our contemporary slithers, when sleep claws at our eyelids, neck and shoulders while dirty dishes yet remain in the sink, when blogging threatens to slide between you and the toddler asking you to color with her for the ninth time that day -- we are engaged in crisis. Often, if denied the slither's offer of indulgence, we may physically react, either through tension and lashing out or through escape and sybaritism.

Yet we fast to push our bodies just past the edge of comfort. We stand at attention to remind ourselves to remain diligent. We pray--in the light, yes, but also in the dark--to remind ourselves that light is now, but it's also not yet, that there is still dark to deal with. Things that slither do so in the dark, and the light on the other side of that likewise dark glass don't help much, it sometimes seems. But that light is what we've got for now, and ignoring the things that go slither in the night in order to gaze, flint-faced, at the light that illumines us with love for Other and others, is the order of the Day.

Athanasius and Wrath

In response to Rho's question in the comments in the post below, when he asked, "Where's the talk of a just God who is concerned that all sin be punished with justice, b/c sin is actually evil?"

...

One of the main differences between Orthodox and Reformed soteriology is a different idea of punishment. It would seem as though both Orthodox and Reformed churches suffer from unintended consequences "in the pews" (or "in the nave" in our case). While Orthodox homilies can, indeed, come away sounding like our Faith is allergic to anything even resembling divine wrath, Reformed churches often come across as making the Father's offended justice that of a violent, vindictive, bloodthirsty Tyrant.

We have to be careful with how words are translating in some biblical passages. 2 Thess. 1.8-9, for example, is often translated as "In a flame of fire, giving vengeance to them who know not God, and who obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. Who shall suffer eternal punishment in destruction, from the face of the Lord..." In the Greek, (you can compare HERE), we see that the words commonly translated as "vengeance"--εκδικησιν--and "punishment"--δικην--are all related, not to penal retribution or satisfaction, but simple "righteousness" or "straightening" (δικαιοσύνη). Granted, this righteousness will be imposed on the unrighteous apart from their will, and it will be permanent (αἰώνιον), but when we say “destruction,” what will that be? What is ὄλεθρον, really? Is it done with a violent, offended connotation, the way we usually refer to “punishment”? Or is it “ruin,” as in the sense of something undergoing “de-(con)struction”? Young’s Literal Translation of v. 9 would seem to agree with the latter:

who shall suffer justice -- destruction age-during -- from the face of the Lord, and from the glory of his strength

Here we have men suffering, indeed, and eternally so, but why? Because the justice—the setting straight of what was crooked, in which what is crooked is forcibly deconstructed, or destructed—is imposed on the wicked, but not because of a god who decides he’s going to “make this hurt.” It hurts because we don’t want it, not because God wants to make us suffer.

And I would disagree strongly with your idea that sin isn’t “really… a big deal in EO thought.” I would invite you to read the two posts again, wherein I’d say it’s fairly clear that God lets not one crooked way go unstraightened, regardless of how a person wedded to his iniquity might feel about it on judgment day. Therefore, sin should hardly be seen as "barely worthy of irritation,"

As it so happens, we are studying St. Athanasius' On the Incarnation of the Word in Patristics--a reread for me, but a much needed one--and the beginning section seems to address quite well what we're discussing here, namely, the reaction of God to sin.

In Chapter 3, we see the consequences for sin. CCEL has a nice section headers above these chapters here; we see that God has made "Creation out of nothing," with "Man created above the rest, but incapable of independent perseverance. Hence the exceptional and supra-natural gift of being in God’s Image, with the promise of bliss conditionally upon his perseverance in grace."

(So, then, all of Creation's existence is grounded on nothing less than the pure will of God; if we separate ourselves from His life by our shortcoming, we begin the process of degenration--or "de(con)struction, or destruction--with the end result being less and less existence, to the point of eventual ruin, which is the concept I'm referring to as ὄλεθρον from 2 Thess 1.9).

Chapter 6: "The human race then was wasting, God’s image was being effaced, and His work ruined. Either, then, God must forego His spoken word by which man had incurred ruin; or that which had shared in the being of the Word must sink back again into destruction, in which case God’s design would be defeated. What then? was God’s goodness to suffer this? But if so, why had man been made? It could have been weakness, not goodness on God’s part."

(We thus see the first indication of something approaching God's honor being besmirched, though there is no indication here of God being "concerned" with His own reputation but rather with being faithful to His own purpose.)

Chapter 7: "On the other hand there was the consistency of God’s nature, not to be sacrificed for our profit. Were men, then, to be called upon to repent? But repentance cannot avert the execution of a law; still less can it remedy a fallen nature. We have incurred corruption and need to be restored to the Grace of God’s Image. None could renew but He Who had created. He alone could (1) recreate all, (2) suffer for all, (3) represent all to the Father."

(Indeed, God will not refrain forever from straightening the wicked (crooked) paths. The righting of all wrongs is more important, ultimately, than "happiness." The problem with Reformed views of things like this, however, is that the wrongs to be righted are not primarily ones of law, but of ontology and corruption, ending in death. We are presented to the Father as whole because for this were we created. A deathbound penitent will still die; we must not only be delivered from transgression of a law but of the mortal consequences thereof.)

Chapters 8-9: "The Word, then, visited that earth in which He was yet always present ; and saw all these evils. He takes a body of our Nature, and that of a spotless Virgin, in whose womb He makes it His own, wherein to reveal Himself, conquer death, and restore life."

"The Word, since death alone could stay the plague, took a mortal body which, united with Him, should avail for all, and by partaking of His immortality stay the corruption of the Race. By being above all, He made His Flesh an offering for our souls; by being one with us all, he clothed us with immortality."

(Again, one can hardly call sin "not serious" when the Word calls such deeds evil and lead to dissolution and corruption in the grave.)

Ch 13: "Here again, was God to keep silence? to allow to false gods the worship He made us to render to Himself? A king whose subjects had revolted would, after sending letters and messages, go to them in person. How much more shall God restore in us the grace of His image. This men, themselves but copies, could not do. Hence the Word Himself must come (1) to recreate, (2) to destroy death in the Body."

(This is telling. What is God's concern? His reputation before mere created beings? On the contrary; He is concerned not with punishing us, but with restoring us. His wrath is not punitive, but corrective; He de-structs so that He can con-struct. Whether we like this or not when He imposes this upon us is another matter.)

Ch 25: "Why the Cross, of all deaths? (1) He had to bear the curse for us. (2) On it He held out His hands to unite all, Jews and Gentiles, in Himself. (3) He defeated the “Prince of the powers of the air” in His own region, clearing the way to heaven and opening for us the everlasting doors."

(This was a search and rescue, not a placating of a God who was determined to make punishment hurt because He was offended.)

In short, one can hardly say, if one pays attention to the hymns regarding God's wrath and to the explications of St. Athanasius, that God will allow for even one iota of shortfalling, of missing the mark of perfection to go without being fulfilled and brought to its plenitude of righteousness at the end of all things--and so our life is given to us through Christ in order that we might be made ready for that End and not hate the light of that day, preferring instead our own dark and crooked ways.

Our Wrathful God

I posted this as a comment at my friend Rho's blog (his post w/comments is HERE) and thought it worth posting here.

I used to overreact to the wrath talk of Calvinism by going to the opposite extreme of "God doesn't have wrath; it's just love experienced negatively" (River of Fire and all that mess). Unfortunately, I think that particular line has become something of an oversimplified approach to Orthodox soteriology--perhaps used by some a way to be different from "the West" as a way to stand out, though I know of some priests I greatly respect with whom I also differ on this point.

While Rho does well to point out where the Bible explicitly tells us that, yes, our heavenly Father does get angry with us, his children, the anger is not of the same type that continually gets trotted out by Calvinists, namely, that God is wrathful because of his offended honor or out of some desire to take vengeance on his besmirched Name. Rather, God is asking us, angrily, "What have you DONE to yourselves?! I will and must fix this, for I am good." He will fix us whether we want Him to or not, and the fixing, imposed on us by a righteous God, will be hell to those of us who don't want it, but there will be nothing we can do to stop it. The attitude of the Father, however, is one of a Father whose anger is provoked by seeing what's become of His child, not a selfish, "How could you DO this to me?! I'll teach YOU...!" type of anger.

I'd invite everyone to listen to these two talks, given by an extremely well-respected priest and former dean of my current place of studies, who I think does a masterful job of allowing the Bible to speak of the wrath it does indeed speak of, in the way of which it is meant to be spoken. They are the following:

The Wrath of God

and

The Wrath of God - Part 2

They show extremely well how Christ takes away the wrath spoken of in Scripture, not because He Himself "took the beating" that the vindictive, bloodthirsty "Father" needed to dish out, but because He is already fixed, and stands as the One who is fixed before the Father and can, thus, fix us so that we, too can stand before the Father.

Salvation from the wrathful righteousness of the Father, through the becoming sin for us of Him Who knew no sin. It is the gospel, Rho; you're right...but I do not think we mean what you want us to mean.

Time to Exit Eli's Road

There are many things that happen within communities that, unless one operates in certain circles or is within a certain subset of said community, one remains unaware of regarding specifics, though one may be quite aware of tension moving below the surface. My friend, Fr. Basil Biberdorf, an OCA priest who, after a recent transfer from Texas to Pennsylvania, has launched a website called The Orthodox Leader. His first post, "Time to Exit Eli's Road" is an inspiring call to accountability regarding clergy sexual misconduct. One can not say that the bruhaha within the Catholic Church has escaped one's notice, and neither can one--if one is Orthodox, or most likely even if one is not--feign surprise when instances of sexual misconduct surface in our Church. Still, it is disheartening to hear of such instances--even with no names mentioned--but it is yet encouraging to see brave members of the Body standing up to say "No More."

May God bless and preserve the brave priest Basil together with his family.