St. Alexis

The following is a paper I wrote for Church History; appropriate for the saint commemorated today. Also an insight (though this is not the topic of the paper) that the "Low Slavic" nature of the OCA (as opposed to the "Higher Russian" flavor in the ROCOR can be attributed in large part to the heavy Carpatho-Russian origins of much of the OCA, origins which were immediately accesible to today's Hungarian saint. As one cradle OCA-er in my year has said when we talked about this: "Yeah. We're the Russian hillbillies."

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Alexis Geogievich Toth was an Eastern Catholic priest sent to minister to the faithful of Minneapolis, Minnesota in the late 19^th Century. His conversion to Eastern Orthodoxy, however, has been the reason history has remembered him. Toth’s dramatic departure from Roman Catholicism was followed by the movement of many Eastern Catholic parishes (including his own in Minneapolis and later in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania), which were all enthusiastic to convert for the same reasons that prompted him to leave the fold of Rome. The failure of the Roman Catholic hierarchs of America to recognize the legitimacy of three things—the differences in Eastern Catholic praxis which had been historically accepted by Rome, the connection between rite and nationality within Eastern Catholic Countries, and the subsequent petitions to Rome for a Uniate Apostolic Vicariate—was what precipitated Toth’s departure from the Roman Catholic Church.

Keith S. Russin, in his thesis, The Right Reverend Alexis G. Toth and the Religious Hybrid, lists two major historical unions of Orthodox from Russia Rubra with the Catholic Church. The first—the Union of Brest-Litovsk—took place “throughout the Eastern areas of Hungary, Lithuania proper, the province of Novgorod-Litovsk, Volynia, and the towns of Brest, Zaslavl, Polotsk and Vitebsk” in 1596.[1] The second— the Union of Uz’horod— took place amongst the Carpatho-Russians in 1646.[2] It is generally acknowledged that, because of pressure from Jesuit missionaries on one side, Protestant missionaries on the other, and a distant hierarchy and “uneducated clergy” amongst the Orthodox themselves, the Orthodox in 16^th Century Russia Rubra had to fend for themselves by creating lay brotherhoods to continue in their faith.[3] This difficult position, however, proved ultimately untenable; Basil Boysak, in The Fate of the Holy Union in Carpatho-Ukraine, states that “by 1624 the Carpatho-Russian Orthodox, “once famous for learned men and the most flourishing center of wisdom, [was] in a pitiful condition,” not able to “present…even a vestige of her former dignity.”[4] In both cases, then, union with Rome was thought to be the most immediate solution to their woes. Upon issuing statements confessing their allegiance to Rome and adherence to her teachings, the inhabitants of Russia Rubra also insisted on and were granted permission to retain the rite of the Eastern Church, freedom from ecclesiastical persecution from the Patriarch, and the ability to retain and elect their own bishops.[5] Unfortunately, from the beginning, the Carpatho-Russian privileges of “their own Eparchy and their own Bishop elected by their clergy,” together with the freedom to “[follow] freely their traditions” were denied them by the Latin clergy that came to oversee them.[6] That this friction regarding slighted differences of praxis was real and repeatedly ignored by Latin-Rite clergy is undeniable; not only did it continue into Toth’s day, but it even led to another movement towards Orthodoxy among Carpatho-Russian Uniates in the early 1930s—one which led to the eventual creation of ACROD.[7] Without a doubt, however, the most significant of the movements of Uniate Catholics into Orthodoxy due to Latin indifference was that of Toth and his parishes in the 19^th Century, and it was due in no small part to the Latin bishops’ repeated prohibitions of these historically guaranteed Eastern rites and practices.

In denying the faithful these practices, the bishops displayed an ignorance of a critical element of their spiritual life: the connection between rite and ethnicity. The most infamous example of this is an encounter Toth had on December 19, 1889 with John Ireland, the Irish Catholic archbishop of Minneapolis. Abp. John was already embroiled in an internal conflict of the Roman Catholic Church; hierarchs were debating whether the faithful should assimilate into, or remain culturally distinct and separate from, American culture at large. Ireland was of the opinion that immigrants—and here he was primarily concerned with those from Western Europe—needed to be as assimilated into American life as possible. [8] The marked characteristics of immigrants from Eastern Europe as opposed to Americans of Western European origin (i.e., unfamiliar language, high rates of illiteracy and poverty[9]), together with ritual differences, led to a real threat to the assimilationist policy espoused by Abp. John. When Toth met with the Archbishop, the already volatile situation was sure to—and, indeed, did—come to a head, for the ignorance of the Archbishop regarding the Carpatho-Russians’ distrust of Latin-Rite Catholicism as belonging to a foreign people and clinging to their own rite as a unifying cultural factor distinct from the dominant culture of the United States would become all too apparent.

Toth’s own account of the meeting paints a volatile picture. When kissing the bishop’s hand, Toth failed “to kneel before him,” and thus began the litany of offenses that Toth would commit, unknowingly, before Abp. John. Upon learning that Toth was an Eastern Catholic priest, Abp. John refused to acknowledge not only his priesthood, but also his very membership in the Catholic Church. The reason for this was bound up in the first question Ireland asked Toth: “Do you have a wife?” When Toth answered that he had had a wife and was a widower, Ireland, in a rage, declared that he had specifically asked for Rome to cease sending him priests that were, or ever had been, married. [10] The obstinacy of Abp. John led to the denial of permission for Toth to serve in Latin Catholic parishes, as well as to the decision on the Archbishop’s part that all the faithful assigned to Toth would be taken from him and put under the care of the Latin-Rite, Polish priest.[11] This second insult was, no doubt, worse than the idea of being effectively excommunicated from Catholics of other rites, for the idea of “our faith and religion” was much more important to Toth’s flock than the Archbishop knew. Konstantin Simon, S.J., in his article, “Alexis Toth and the Beginnings of the Orthodox Movement among the Ruthenians in America,” notes that, far from being concerned with ideas of union, dogma, or ecclesiology, “the majority [of the faithful] was anxious to avail themselves of a priest ‘of any kind.’ The only requirement was that he celebrate in ‘their way.’”[12] Thus, having been denied permission by the Latin-Rite hierarch for their own worship, the impetus was set before the Carpatho-Russians to begin building their own, separate church in defiance of his orders and out of love for their own people.[13]

It quickly became obvious to Toth, however, as one ever-mindful of the identification that working-class Slavs had with their religious expression, that a faith so similar in form to their own and so sympathetic to their culture would be a more logical home for them; he immediately began to move in the direction of the Russian Orthodox. When Toth heard that there was reported to be a Russian bishop in San Francisco, he sent John Mlinar, a parish collector and member of the parish society, to investigate the veracity of the claims. That the Orthodox form of worship was more accessible to the Carpatho-Russians was obvious, for it was only upon Mlinar’s approaching the chalice that he “gave himself away” as an Eastern Catholic by a minor difference in how he crossed himself.[14] He was told, kindly, to go to the Roman Catholic archbishop of San Francisco for the sacraments, though the archbishop’s secretary, merely upon learning that Mlinar was an Eastern Catholic, “told him that he would have to go ‘back to his own Russian bishop on Powell Street.’” In true form, Mlinar wrote back to Toth of his confusion, asking him bewilderedly, “What kind of faith is this? I am told that I am a Uniate; [what, exactly, is] a Uniate? I did not ever hear that before.” [15] Once this initial confusion was resolved, however, it became clear in the minds of all involved that the faith which could truly receive Toth and his flock as their own would not be one run by indifferent hierarchs of other ritualistic persuasion, but that of their own “Parental Church.”

It was only a matter of time, however, until Rome’s complete disregard of the Uniate faithful’s requests for an Apostolic Vicariate which would represent their people in the United States became intolerable to other Uniate priests as it had to Toth. Toth’s parish in Minneapolis, after a series of rejected appeals to Archbishop John to allow them to have their own, recognized parish and multiple requests to the Office of Propaganda in Rome to establish a governing Vicar Bishop for the Ruthenian Catholics[16] (rejected on the grounds of the ninth canon of the Fourth Council of the Lateran, which, according to the American archbishops, prohibited a single city or diocese from having more than one bishop[17]), entered the Orthodox faith at the hands of Bishop VLADIMIR in 1891. Over the course of the next decade, parish after parish would follow the same route, for Uniate priests were not only still “denied their hope for a Uniate bishop for America,” but they were also “once more told that services had to be in Latin, and they were now told that they had to renounce their wives and children.”[18] The Uniate faithful’s helplessness to achieve a canonical basis for practicing their faith was nearing an intolerable level.

A meeting of Uniate clergy was called in response to this (which Toth attended for moral support) at Hazelton, Pennsylvania in December of 1891. While the clergy in attendance were impressed with Toth’s movement to the Orthodox Church, and though the demands of the Uniate clergy for an Apostolic Vicariate were once again ignored, they decided not to follow him out of Eastern Catholicism.[19] In spite of this setback, Toth pressed on in his missionary endeavors and, over the course of the next ten years, “managed to bring into Orthodoxy at least seventeen other parishes in Pennsylvania alone, as well as in New York, New Jersey and Illinois.”[20] This progress, however, was not without its setbacks, as all of the priests in attendance who would eventually be brought into Orthodoxy under Toth’s influence—not to mention a sizeable faction of the parish he himself would later serve as pastor in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania—returned to Catholicism, with only Toth himself remaining from among the attendees at Hazelton as an Orthodox priest.[21] Thus, though the priests and faithful seemed initially ready to do as Toth had done, they ultimately (and understandably) felt the stronger pull of “their family obligations”[22] and decided to “continue their fight for recognition from within the Catholic communion.”[23] However determined the archbishops might have been to deny them the rights Toth knew and insisted on so well, the formidable responsibility of the Uniate priests to provide financially for their own ultimately proved superior to their ancestral discontent, even without their own Vicariate.

The departure of Fr. Alexis Toth from Catholicism and his embracing of Orthodoxy are events that changed the course of history for a significant portion of both churches. These were events whose realizations were fraught with sharply contrasting ideologies, nationalistic fervor, and bureaucratic stiff-arming. That Toth was able to endure and continue his missionary endeavor when so many others who had begun a similar journey with him turned back to Catholicism is a testimony to his faithfulness. Although the newly-received Orthodox faithful had to endure financial hardship in the years that would follow their conversions,[24] they knew they had come home to a place wherein they could practice the historic faith of their fathers. This faith had been denied by Rome yet still united them together as a people, and was now implemented by a bishop who would care for and could relate to them as a fellow Slav. These gains, then, served to lift three great burdens which had weighed on the backs of the Carpatho-Russian faithful and had ultimately served to sever their ties with the Roman Catholic Church.

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[1] (Crestwood: SVS Press, 1971), 5.

[2] Ibid., 12.

[3] Ibid., 6-7.

[4] (Toronto-New York, 1963), 227.

[5] Russin, 8, 14, quoting Eugene Vansuch, “The Carpato-Russian Uniates, Past and Present.” (unpublished B.D. Thesis, St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary, 1967), 4; and Michael Lacko, The Union of Uzhorod. (Rome, Slovak Institute, 1966), 39.

[6] Ibid., 17.

[7] American Carpatho-Russian Orthodox Diocese (in the USA). See Archimandrite Serafim (Surrency), The Quest for Orthodox Church Unity in America. (New York: Saints Boris and Gleb Press, 1973), 96.

[8] Russin, 32.

[9] Russin, 21, quoting “Foreign Population.” Wilkjes-Barre Record, May 9, 1907, 11.

[10] B. Wojcik, St. Alexis: The Shepherd of Minneapolis. (Crestwood: SVS Press, 1997), 36-7.

[11] Ibid., 37.

[12] Orientalia christiana periodica. V.54:1-2 (Rome: Pont. Institutum Orientalium Studiorum, 1988), 415.

[13] Ibid., 392.

[14] Ibid., 400.

[15] Wojcik, 52.

[16] Orientalia, 393.

[17] Ibid., 427, note (107).

[18] Wojcik, 61.

[19] Orientalia, 419.

[20] Ibid., 412.

[21] Ibid., 413.

[22] Wojcik, 62.

[23] Orientalia, 419.

[24] Ibid., 403.

Form and Content

Last week was the Midfeast of Pentecost (half-way between Pascha and Pentecost), and was also the first time for me to serve as an altar server in a Divine Liturgy. I've served a couple of Presanctified Liturgies during Lent in years past, and this year in seminary has me pretty comfortable with the basic movements of an altar server in most OCA parishes. It's rather (in?)famously known that SVS's matins service is rather shorter than what one might find in an OCA parish, but the mechanics of serving as an acolyte are pretty much the same, so the training does its job well.

Of course, the Divine Liturgy is the chief celebration within the lives of Orthodox Christians. In it, we offer up the labor of man's hands to the One who made the material we work with, and we receive it back, blessed and sanctified, as the food which lasts forever (something we could never do with our hands alone). This, then, is the beautiful, eternal content of our liturgical experience: we meet our Maker and are, by His grace, changed to become like He is. Having said that, it's rather obvious to anyone who's had to serve for any extended period of time in any capacity in a Divine Liturgy (whether as priest, deacon, sub-deacon, acolyte, reader, or choir member) that your service is something of a sacrifice; those "wedded to a text," as I've heard the Ochlophobist say, are not able to take it all in, but rather must focus on a certain, mechanical function within the liturgy as service to God and, in doing so, enable others to pray. Mechanics may, in a sense, take away the one sense needful to prayerful communion with God, but, "They also serve who only stand and wait," as Milton said.

Also relating to form and content is the overall comparison I've made all year between this M.Div. degree and my undergraduate B.A. in Education. It is the reality of things that, here in the States, a man looking to be ordained to the work of an Orthodox clergyman must have some formal theological training, just as a teacher must possess some formal knowledge of how to instruct pupils (though alternative certification obviously serves as the exception). Some of the classes I have attended here at SVS have been minimal in their reading load and demand on my time, though the discussions springing from them are imminently practical, and the interaction with my classmates has been invaluable, as they will think of things I never would have thought to ask about. Other classes have demanded hours upon hours of reading and writing, all on subjects, I am convinced, I will never need to reference in normal parish life (at least directly; sermon preparation or the random coffee hour question from a theology buff might require a passing reference to some of this). Some of my professors are men I hope I can emulate as a priest; I pray to God no one ever compares me to others. And there are some things--I couldn't tell you what at this point--which I am convinced that I will try upon coming into a parish to work which I will promptly jettison and never think about again. We have gone through christological terminology in Patristics ad nauseum, for example, but Fr. John told us after a particularly vexing class that we must not confuse this system of theological terminology with the Gospel; when Christ asks you, "Who do you say that I am, do not commence with a comparison of St. Cyril of Alexandria's ἐκ δύο φύσεων language with Chalcedon's ἐν δύο φύσεσιν definition. Yet, in spite of the abstract, stilted nature of some of this, there is an integrity and beauty in knowing that in the one Christ man can, indeed, find integration and wholeness and, in that completion, find peace. I've always been more of a big-picture person. These kinds of things need to be in their proper perspective. Or, as my New Testament professor said today, "would [that we] not waste time attacking or defending the wrong things, but that [we] would above all else seek to acquire the mind of Christ as [our] own."

All of this--from classes of wildly divergent natures to genuinely exciting topics of study to questionable assignments to things that seem outright useless--is exactly like my education undergrad. What this tells me is that I need not despair, because no priest worth his salt hangs his hat too heavily on his book-learnin' from seminary. I had to keep learning in the classroom, even to the point of teaching myself an entirely new methodology. And I did pretty well, if I do say so myself. What happens of value is what comes after all this. Oh, you need to know your field, of course, but you also need to know that the form that all of this takes--the classwork, the reading, the papers, the discussions, the work around campus--is not as important as the content of it all, which is a life of discipline and sacrifice for other people, borne out of the Gospel that is the root of all this.

Your continued prayers are appreciated.

A Beautiful Newborn, An Apology, Moving Things from Ft. Worth to New York (Help?)

A blessed feast of St. George to all. As a needed side note, we are celebrating as of yesterday the birth of little Jonathan to our good friends (and Hope's godparents) the Wingerds, who lost their baby boy Jamie in a tragic accident last year. Mother and son are well, thank God. Many years, and may the little saint pray for his new little brother, his mother, and all of us, especially during this joyous occasion.

My apologies for the lack of posts; seminary life is busy! I do plan on picking up the pace once another paper or two gets finished. Also am planning on posting some of the papers/exams from last semester and this to give an idea about what I'm doing here. Also am long overdue (how many months? years now?) on the Psalms of David.

There is, however, something I want to ask of any and all who (still) read the blog or have it on RSS update, follow it, etc:

If any of you are moving or know someone who is moving to St. Vlad's or the New York area this summer/fall and are starting out in or passing through the Oklahoma/Texas region, I would like to discuss using any leftover moving van space with you, as we need to move some things we've kept in storage in Ft. Worth up here for our growing, pre-born little one. As we don't have much there in storage, it would be much more efficient for us to share a little bit of someone else's moving truck instead of renting our own and making the trip once again. We have a few boxes of baby gear, a crib, a changing table, and a bookshelf.

We, of course, would help defray some of the expenses of moving; we remember how much it cost to do so and would be glad to help out. We would be willing to pay you for the extra length of moving truck/van you might have to rent, the inconvenience of arranging to pick up our load, and our share of the gas money. We're willing to take the stuff from Fort Worth to someplace nearby, like Tulsa, Shreveport, Little Rock, Amarillo, etc. if that's more convenient to where you are or to your travel route.

That we are even granted the opportunity to move to a place where these things will fit is a tremendous blessing for us. We found out about a week ago that we should be getting a 3-bedroom apartment sometime this summer, which is over twice the size of our current, 450 ft² underground shoebox apartment for which we are grateful. Yes, dear reader, we shall be able to walk from the kitchen into the hallway without having to turn sideways (those of you who know me in person will no doubt gawk at the fact that I have to do this). We will find out, Lord willing, if the little one is a Gregory Lawrence or a Laura Louise come the end of next month, so it is nice to know that he or she will have a place to sleep that is not our room until he or she is almost two.

My email is in my profile. If anyone is able to accommodate us, please let us know as soon as you can. Many thanks.

Keep Your Green

Earth Day can have its "green."



I miss my blue.

(This is currently the wallpaper on my desktop. It relaxes me just to look at it.)

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.

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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.)

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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.