Taking the plunge

Sunday was our first opportunity to go to church with the bishop present. It wasn't a full hierarchical liturgy, but there was something truly wonderful about the whole experience. We've been attending another small parish about 45 minutes away (everything from here is about 45 minutes away) on occasional Sundays to be a) not the youngest people b) not the only family with small children and c) not the only converts. Though I'm not sure how well we do on the last front, we're definitely in good with the other two! Lots of little kids very close to AJ and Christine's ages and lots of younger couples, older couples, a monastic.  It's a good parish.

Sunday the bishop was going to be at church. I've been to one other hierarchical liturgy before, but never as someone who could be called a regular attender, catechumen, or any other official category in Orthodoxy. Observer, maybe; but nothing deeper or more profound than an outsider looking in at all of the proceedings. When we arrived he was already vested and performing the necessary prayers and services for the proskomedia. If I hadn't known what he looked like, I would have assumed there was a visiting priest. Though there were a few extra tidbits to the service, the whole experience was like having a loving friend, father, or close relative serving alongside the normal priest and presiding over the service. Something truly Christlike and incarnational even with long purple robes and a crown. There was no pretense, no extra fanfare. For a very nervous newbie, this was the type of service to see.

When he went around to our table he simply shook hands with us, blessed our girls, and simply congratulated us on being catechumens. What I want to focus on is the way he loved on our little girls. Placing his wooden panagia on the heads of our daughters, blessing them and praying over them with such tenderness that I still choke up. A true shepherd and father of the flock of Christ. I felt truly blessed to be able to spend just a few minutes of time with him. I felt this must be what it was like when parents brought their children to Our Lord so that He could bless them. The joy and (dare I say) relief that they felt when He picked them up and poured His love onto them.

Thank you, your grace, for the love you showed our girls. Thank you for the love your showed our family. Pray for us as we pray for you.

Getting back to roots

 At our parish we celebrate the (truncated) Liturgy of St. James during Lent. I had always heard that this was the great-granddaddy of all liturgical experiences. Six hours. Only performed once a year. True dedication required; layabouts need not apply type liturgy. Though that may be true to some, I think I'm really going to miss it when we hit the Paschal season. After four weeks, I'm starting to get used to it, and I find I truly appreciate every element--including the length (though it doesn't take us six hours, partly because we don't do six twenty minute litanies).  Following are some highlights and reflections. (All excerpts found at Schaff's Anti-Nicene Fathers v. 7)

Prayer of the commencement.  

Text: O beneficent King eternal, and Creator of the universe, receive Thy Church, coming unto Thee through Thy Christ: fulfill to each what is profitable; lead all to perfection, and make us perfectly worthy of the grace of Thy sanctification, gathering us together within Thy holy Church, which Thou hast purchased by the precious blood of Thy only-begotten Son, and our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, with whom Thou art blessed and glorified, together with Thy all-holy, and good, and quickening Spirit, now and ever, and to all eternity. Amen.

Reflection: Here, gathered around the icon in the narthex we gather and hear not just our destination (Blessed is the Kingdom), but we hear what we were created to be and how God accomplished it. I'm always struck by the list of petitions: receive, fulfill, lead, make, gather. If anyone accuses me of a works-based faith again, I'll have to give them a copy of this liturgy to read. It is God's divine action that accomplished/accomplishes our salvation, and He alone makes us capable of participating with Him.

Text: God, who didst accept the gifts of Abel, the sacrifice of Noah and of Abram, the incense of 

538Aaron and of Zacharias, accept also from the hand of us sinners this incense for an odour of a sweet smell, and for remission of our sins, and those of all Thy people; for blessed art Thou, and glory becomes Thee, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, now and ever.
       Reflection: I love that this liturgy is steeped in Old Testament imagery, especially that of sacrifice. We come to God offering a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving which is represented in so many things, and here at the beginning of the work we ask God to accept our offering as He did to the righteous patriarchs and priests of the past. The special blessing on the incense catches me particularly, because it can be such a stumbling block to converts that to hear it placed in context is truly eye opening. This incense is simply a visual/nasal representations of the truth of our prayers and praises rising to God. May He find them pleasing.


      Text: Cherubic Hymn.  

Let all mortal flesh be silent, and stand with fear and trembling, and meditate nothing earthly within itself:—  

For the King of kings and Lord of lords, Christ our God, comes forward to be sacrificed, and to be given for food to the faithful; and the bands of angels go before Him with every power and dominion, the many-eyed cherubim, and the six-winged seraphim, covering their faces, and crying aloud the hymn, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.  

Reflection: I have mentioned before how much I love the Cherubic Hymn. This version is slightly longer, but the basic element still remains strong even in its newest formation: We are about to receive Christ, forget everything else and focus. We, here and now, are taking part in the worship of the angels! This gives me goosebumps, especially as the gifts process and the incense forms a cloud around the clergy and the gifts. Very moving.

Text: Priest: 

Magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together.

         People: The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow                     

                      thee

Reflection: the words from the Gospel about the Theotokos and her response to Gabriel's message about the incarnation and her role played therein. I was surprised by this the first time I heard it, and I don't know that I really appreciated that it was being "misapplied" to the Priests, until I realized that this is the role of all of us: to bring God with us wherever we go. It is the Priests who are the icons of Christ, and we are also the icons of Christ. We are living temples of the Holy Spirit, and He will/does come and overshadow us. When we pray this for the priests, we are encouraging them to perform the task they have been preparing to do, because it is the Holy Spirit himself who will make this liturgy possible and pleasing to God.

Text: Going on from glory to glory, we praise Thee, the Saviour of our souls. Glory to Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit now and ever, and to all eternity. We praise Thee, the Saviour of our souls.

Reflection: These are the last words that the congregation says in our parish. As the priest dismisses us, we return by committing ourselves to the work of salvation, having been strengthened by the Eucharist, we go into the world to pursue holiness and union with God. A hard challenge to be sure, but it's so encouraging during this particular time of year to know that, for centuries, the Church has sought its strength from the Sacraments, understanding that it is the work of the Holy Spirit that enables us to continue living out the Gospel--from glory to glory.

Walking through the wilderness

This has been a very, very hard Lent. Last year I lost my job, moved, and never had the catharsis of Pascha. This year we've had two medical emergencies (one involving 3k of money we don't have), loneliness, fear of the future, insecurity in relationships, et al.  We've had a few oases along the way, but it's seemed like a dry, weary land in which there has been very little life at times; and the thorns and weeds have been choking out these thirsty sprouts as they reach for the Sun.

This posting is very hard for me to write as I sit here. We are so blessed in our lives, but it's hard to see those blessings when the emotions are high and the pain seems so very real. I have been so defensive and prickly. Our girls have grown quickly, matured slowly, and discovered ways to nearly kill themselves on various occasions stretching from Forgiveness Sunday to this date (see previous post about AJ's attempt at internal puncturing with a push-pin tack and our trips to the emergency room). Life is just so hard right now. I knew this Lent would be hard (Lent is always hard), but I didn't realize that it was going to be this hard this year.

I need the Resurrection. I need to be resurrected.  Spiritually, emotionally, holistically, I need to be brought from life to death.  I'm so tired of the wilderness and ready for the Promised Land--even if that Promised Land is only an all-night celebration of the Resurrection, or a "brief service" resulting in our being fully welcomed into the life of the Church; and I've just only recently realized that Lent doesn't end for us until we do that. We will continue being in this state of not-yet-but-someday until we stand together at the doors of the church and the priest lays his hand on our heads and begins to pray over us that we would be filled with the Holy Spirit and come to the life in Christ.

Pascha is coming, and I'm so excited for this year!  This year we get the catharsis at the end of a very difficult Lenten fast.  I can't forget, though, that this is just one year at the beginning of so many more to come.  God be with you all.

Let us approach the fast with joy (?)

Lent 2011 began on Monday.  By last night we had visited two hospitals, had three x-rays, three waiting rooms, and hours of slow commute from our small town to the big city as our little girl decided to inaugurate the fast by swallowing a push-pin.  Mere hours after I had texted my dear friend E. about how we were praying for stability in the midst of our chaos, we were flung into the midst of the most terrifying moments I've ever experienced as a parent.  In the early afternoon while she was supposed to be napping, A.J. found a way to ingest a small, red push-pin.  Felicity called me at work on the way to the hospital, and we spent the rest of the afternoon and all night waiting, praying, and dreading that we'd have to watch our little girl go through a very invasive procedure.  As it turned out, the push-pin has moved into her bowel and so they couldn't operate, and now we just have to wait and pray.

Lent has never been a dull experience for me personally.  Every year God decides to put me through my paces and really takes the time to refine me just a little bit more.  I'll admit that my first thought was to complain.  "Go Lent" was heard from my mouth more than once.  I was so upset (not like angry upset, but upset in the way that a basket full of fruit can be upset) by the whole experience.  I couldn't even think to do anything but to pray and pray and pray and pray.  I just kept repeating, "Lord make speed to save us; Lord make haste to help us" over and over and over again with occasional Lord's Prayers and intercessions to the Theotokos.  I needed words of prayer and salvation (prayer A) and I needed a mom (prayer B).

Right now our little girls is laughing, smiling, and playing games with her baby sister.  She's talking about the Toy Story characters on her little sippy cup, and seems oblivious to the stress of the previous night.  I am so overjoyed and so thankful for all the prayers that were offered up (but here on earth and in Heaven).  I'm so thankful for the ministrations of her Guardian Angel who has watched over her these two years.  God has been so good to us, and I realize that you can't experience the joy of the Resurrection without the pain of the Crucifixion: that there is no Lenten spring without the hard work of germination and growth through trial and sometimes pain.  "Normal" may have to wait, but I pray that God continues to show himself to us every day over the Fast.

Sorry if this is incoherent, but I'm sure you understand.

Cultivating Normal

As Peter mentioned briefly in his last post, we attended the Orthodoxy in the Home webinar last month.  As with any seminar, we heard many speakers talk about many subjects, and I wont be able to digest all we learned here in any sort of detail, certainly not to the extent which would truly do the conference justice.  I would like to expand on some ideas that we were confronted with during the webinar and how we will be working them into our Lent.
As we mentioned during the Nativity Fast, following the traditional Orthodox fasting regimen is unwise for us, and the monk who is walking us through our catecuminate has urged us not to.  Instead, in thinking about it, we will be concentrating on cultivating normal.
Over these past few months, we have been striving for survival.  Through moving, unemployment, having a second child, and moving again, our family rhythms have taken a real beating.  In many cases, they never existed to begin with.  Since we've embraced Orthodoxy and begun to settle here, we've realized that in many ways, our life is still chaotic and unplanned.  I often feel behind in everything from meals to laundry, not to mention prayer and bible study.
The webinar offered a few helpful tips that we will be implementing as we try to tame the chaos.  (Note that we will not attempt to be rid of it all together.  Not only would this be a useless endeavor, but life would be no fun at all.)
First, we're adjusting our approach to evening prayers.  As much as we would like to pray together for 20 minutes, singing hymns, reading from scripture and learning about the day's saint, we recognize that this is impossible to do with young children.  In fact, as we were reminded, it is better if we relax and enjoy the prayers we do say, even if it's only a quick Lord Have Mercy before the toddler rampages through our bedroom.  We are a new family, we're new to Orthodoxy, and our prayer time will develop as we do.
Secondly, I have adopted a new strategy when it comes to Liturgy.  We had been relegating our two-year-old (as of tomorrow) to the back/side of the sanctuary where she would be less in the way, able to run, color, read, play Ring-around-the-Rosy, etc.  While this worked fairly well for her, it meant that one or the other of us missed the majority of the service, catching tidbits of the homily, singing a bar now and again, but generally not participating.  While we still do that for the litanies, I've determined that it's not the best thing to do for the whole service, especially since there's often quite a bit going on.  So, for these last few weeks, we deposit our bags in the back but we sit right up front.  From the first row (which is always empty) she has a full view of the choir, the priest, the acolytes, the readers, and everything else.  She watches intently while I point out what's going on by the altar, she's learning some of the songs, and she doesn't start to lose interest until the end of the homily.  I enjoy interacting with her throughout the service, answering her questions, confirming her observations.
At home these days, we're taking wall paper down in the dining room, praying that the snow will end eventually, and looking forward (with trepidation) to our first lent.  We're rejoicing in God's provision for our needs, but not our wants just yet.  Overall, I'm appreciating more and more this season of our life and striving to keep that perspective.

Growing prayer

This past Sunday during coffee hour Felicity and I picked up a copy of The Monk Who Grew Prayer, by Claire Brandenburg.  I'd seen it advertised as part of the Orthodoxy in the Home webinar as one of their door prizes.  (We actually walked away with one, which was pretty thrilling!)  I was intrigued by the title and was hoping to win a copy so that I could read it.  As it turns out, it was in the parish library!  So we picked up a copy.

When I first heard the title, I had an idea about what the book would be.  I was expecting it to be about a monk working in a garden and how all of his work was really a life of prayer which culminated in a beautiful plant or crop that he would harvest or display in church or something along those lines.  I was partially right.  The story is about a monk, and he does have a garden.  However, instead of using the garden as a metaphor, the author takes the traditional Hours and uses the image of gardening to describe the growth and nurture of prayer as part of the monk's life.  Everything from working in the garden to fixing his best (and only) chair is an opportunity for him to cultivate prayer in his life.

I picked up this book to read to our toddler.  She likes it to a point.  (She has a very short attention span, as you might guess, and so we've only gotten through the book once.)  I've read it about five times.  This wouldn't be saying much if you simply looked at the tiny book that's more pictures than it is text.  However, the profundity of the sentiment has really been hitting me hard over the past few days.

We had the privilege of "e-tending" the aforementioned webinar over the weekend.  And aside from occasional problems of being completely unable to hear the speakers, the overall conference was a wonderful opportunity to learn more about being Orthodox and how to impart the Faith to our children. Something that was said more than once over the weekend has been a repeated theme in our lives both in regards to Orthodoxy and just life in general: everything takes practice, and you have to start where you are.

Right now "where we are" is a young family, overly concerned and distracted by financial worries, and parenting two young children.  Prayer time for us is rare, and often shorter than I'd like or feel is necessary; and yet, it's where we are.  AJ will "cross" herself (if you can call it that), and she loves to make big, excited bows and kiss icons.  She also prays: "Father, amen!" when we ask if she wants to pray at dinner or during our evening prayer times.  I realize that we are, like her, just now getting the ground ready for the seeds of prayer to be planted and to take root in our lives. I'm learning first hand what Jesus meant when he took a child and put him in the midst of his quarreling Apostles: "Unless you become like a little child, you cannot enter the Kingdom."

Watching our little girl, I'm beginning to understand what He meant.  The prayers are growing in her life.  The love of God is evident when she kisses her sister, hugs us, or has her dollies kiss the icons at church or in our prayer corner.  The ground is fertile, and the soil is soft, waiting for the seeds to take root.  I want my heart to be like that.  I want the hard shell to be removed so that the seeds of prayer can grow.  Like the monk in the story, I want to "plow the sky" with my voice, lifted up in prayer.  I want to water and nurture my love for Christ through prayer as though my life depended on it.  May I, too, become like a little child so that I can learn to truly love my Lord and serve Him only.

Standing next to friends

With the onset of winter, getting our tiny little Chevy up the dirt road to the monastery for Sunday Liturgy.  We tried one Sunday a few weeks ago and got about three-quarters of the way up and had to turn back round.  The result, missing Liturgy three Sundays in a row!  Exhausting.  The need for finding an alternate parish home was growing on our small family.  We also wanted to find a place where we wouldn't be the youngest adults present by thirty years or more.

The search began rather unsuccessfully.  I [Peter] visited the Orthodoxy in America parish locator for parishes in our area.  I wasn't being overly particular.  Primarily, we wanted a place we could visit when the roads were bad and might have the opportunity for meeting some younger families with children the age of our girls (or thereabouts) so we wouldn't be quite so lonely.  Visiting one parish last week was a blow to confidence and emotional stability.  With no children to speak of and the average age closer to 70, we were not succeeding in our efforts.  The drive home was very discouraging, and Felicity and I spent a very stressful week, fearing that we'd be stuck visiting every parish in the area week after week.  Exhausting.

When Br. S. came over for our house blessing, we had an opportunity to sit and talk about our catechesis and life in general.  He recommended a parish not far from where I work and told us it was probably the "youngest" parish in the district.  Relatively new building, former mission church, broad range of ages.  It didn't disappoint.

Walking into that building was like coming home again.  The room was simple, the icons were few, but the atmosphere reminded me of Holy Cross and other younger parishes.  I don't know how else to explain the situation.  It was like standing in a room full of old friends.  The icon display of the saints of North America, the young children running about, the old ladies inviting us to come up and get "church bread".  Though we won't be making an hour long trip each week, it was refreshing to find a place to go when we can't get up the hill.  We left in much better spirits, and wondered why we had to go through all of that pain from last weekend.

Catechumens depart

"All ye catechumens, depart! Depart, ye catechumens! All ye that are catechumens, depart! Let no catechumens remain! But let us who are of the faithful, again and again, in peace pray to the Lord."
~Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom

Most churches either don't do this or don't make the uninitiated leave the service at this point just before the Eucharistic part of the service.  Most have a prayer for catechumens, often by name, followed by a prayer of the faithful.  Our particular parish doesn't have either.  (That's not really here or there as far as this posting is concerned.)  Once upon a time, though, true converts to the faith (those coming from paganism) were kept from seeing the entire Divine Liturgy until they had been properly initiated through baptism and chrismation.  These days, some parishes keep this command to the catechumens in order to remember the tradition we came from.

It's usually about this time in the service that one of the girls (or both of the girls) need special attention.  Felicity needs to nurse Christine and I take the toddler by the hand and either read stories, color, feed, or otherwise distract her from her desire to run, jump, toddle, climb, open, shut, pound, etc. (Truly, she's hilarious during church.  Today she started saying, "Marytokos" as a melding of Mary and Theotokos.  Melts your heart, it's so cute, right?)  No one really minds her little interruptions, but we are trying to make her aware of others who are trying to listen, sing, pray, and meditate around her.  During this portion of the service we make our way to the nuns' sacristy and sit quietly while the Eucharistic portion of the service happens in the main chapel.

I realize that we're not alone in this moment of removing ourselves when a child becomes a little bit crazy.  I used to try and fight it, staying in the service come hell or high water.  A few weeks ago it dawned on me that I'm not part of what's happening in the other room.  I know that I have some place there, but not the way the others do.  I'm not part of that communion going on.  I'm not partaking of our Lord's body and blood.  Maybe the best place for me is just outside, listening, praying, singing along to the communion hymns with my little girl in my lap reading, snuggling, drinking juice.  My wife and I with our two little girls in the little side room while the faithful partake of the Eucharist and invite everyone to "receive the body of Christ, taste the fountain of immortality".  Someday.

A brief note

Felicity and I are indebted to Fr. Joseph Honeycutt's Orthodixie Blog for advertising this conference!  We are really excited to e-ttend.

Christ is born!

I'm not sure I (Peter) mentioned in any previous posts (check http://journey-east.blogspot.com/2010/03/getting-to-this-point-his-story-part-3.html to see if I did or not), but my first real experience of Orthodoxy was at Nativity.  My roommate E. was baptized that Sunday morning, and then I spent the rest of the day with he and another recent convert talking about the Church and the feast and what not.  The bishop was there that night, too.  And we did the Liturgy of St. Basil.  I stood for three hours in really uncomfortable shoes for 3 hours.  I was so confused!  So much happened that I had no idea about.  I do remember, however, that I was caught up in the wonder and the beauty of it as I tried to listen to the words of the hymns and internalize what I was listening to.

This year we didn't make it to Christmas liturgy.  We were up in New Hampshire with my family, celebrating to the best of our ability.  It was really wonderful.  We ate, sang songs, opened presents, prayed, laughed, gave lots of hugs and kisses--truly sacramental.  I missed being there for the long night, the party afterwards, the big hymns full of deep theology.  What I received in exchange, though, was something truly wonderful.

I have an incredible family.  We may drive each other crazy, but they are loving, compassionate, giving, and unselfish to a fault.  If I couldn't be at Liturgy, I'm glad I was home with people who love me and who also love Jesus.

As I look at the coming year I have a few goals I'd like to set for myself: keep reading spiritual books, meet once a month with Br. S, and work towards our Chrismation at Nativity next year--maybe.  We are all about following God's plan for our lives.  We don't know where our path will lead us this year, but I do know that I have never felt so sure of where I'm meant to be at any time before.

I have so much to write about: my uncle is dying of cancer, my little girl crosses herself and makes deep prostration, our infant is nearly rolling over, my wife and I are learning to pray together and work through our sins in a way that is forgiving and healing, and so much else.  I don't know what comes next, but I do know that I'm in the right place.  Christ is born!  Glorify Him!

The Discipline of Not Fasting

This Nativity has presented us with some interesting challenges.  Among them, keeping our toddler away from the Christmas tree, figuring out how to start the tradition of St. Nicholas and, most importantly (and relevant to this blog post) what it means to be Orthodox during the holiday season.  Like most converts, I think, we assumed that Nativity would mean fasting and going to lots of services.  A few weeks into it, we are coming to understand the less glamorous reality.  Namely, we can't fast and we make it to up to the monastery maybe twice a week.

I know that fasting with two small children, one of them nursing, would be against the teachings of the church, but there's a part of me that still feels like we're missing an important part of "being Orthodox" by not doing it.  This feeling is compounded by the fact that I've been losing weight since my pregnancy, losing too much in fact, and so not only am I not fasting, but doing rather the opposite: lots of full fat dairy products, rich oils, meats, etc.  This is the first year that I've really been aware of the Nativity fast and shown any inclination to join in, and yet I am completely and utterly unable to do so.

Going to services has been difficult as well.  When we first moved here, we thought being only a few miles from the monastery that we'd be going up multiple times a day.  Matins, vespers, vigil, liturgy; they'd have to lock the doors to keep us out; only feet of snow would keep us away.  Perhaps such hopes were the naivete of new converts mixed with that of young parents (a nasty double whammy, that).  Needless to say, we make it up to vespers maybe once a week ("we" usually being Peter getting the toddler out of the house so I can breathe for a while and make dinner).  Services are difficult for us to attend all together.  When one daughter is content, the other one wants to run up the stairs into the altar.  When she's finally contented with crayons or a book, the other declares (louder every week) that she's wet and hungry.  Usually, these disturbances occur during a reading, or the sermon, or (worst of all) during one of the times of silence which follow the sermon and the Eucharist.  We don't feel pressure from the parishioners or the monastics to keep the girls quiet, but it's awfully hard to thoughtfully consider the sermon when trying to calm a screaming baby or wrestle a headstrong toddler.

The further we go in this adventure of ours, however, I'm learning how to use all of these things to grow closer to Christ and becoming more like Him.  I hope in this season of life we can learn these important lessons: that fasting isn't the point, and neither is going to church.

Thoughts on eating

There's one of the stories from the Desert Fathers about a young monk who is given a rule of prayer which he considers too lenient.  His elder gave him only a handful of prostrations per day when he had been doing some inordinate amount like 200.  I really don't remember the full detail of the story.  I do remember the point, though.  He comes back to his elder to report on his prayer rule and how difficult it was to do so few prostrations, how fatigued he was, and how easily distracted he became.  When he asked why it was that so few prostrations were so hard to complete, his elder told him that it was because the devil had made the extra prostrations easy for him.  Powerful stuff.

We've been given instruction not to fast by two different priests.  Our priest in North Carolina told us not to, but to focus on our family, saying prayers, and trying to live in light of the Gospel as we slowly moved into Orthodoxy.  Our priest here has basically given us the same instruction, reminding us that with two small children, a full time job, and the struggle just to make our income match our outgo every month, we don't need to prove how Orthodox we are by having a long prayer rule, plus however many Jesus prayers, plus 42 prostrations, plus...plus...plus...plus.  He was very clear: you need to find the time to meet God in the ordinary.  So during this Nativity Fast, we aren't fasting.

I really hope this posting isn't going against the injunction against boasting or blowing trumpets during fasting that Jesus gave in the Sermon on the Mount.  If it is, please forgive me.  I just find it strange to be eating while others fast.  It's strange, also, to be receiving the charity and gifts that we would like to be giving to others.  We're learning how to be lilies and sparrows, and if you recall, it is the sparrows that our Heavenly Father feeds.  We're trying to be aware of the fact that true fasting, according to Scripture is a broken heart, forgiveness, sorrow for sin, released prisoners, et al.  We're also trying to be aware of the fact that it would be easy for us to fast right now, and our egos would be stroked quite nicely as we modestly turned down hamburgers and turkey dinners due to our religious restriction.

I'm discovering more and more that Orthopraxy is more than two hours of prayer every day, half the year eating vegan, and learning to converse in four different languages about food.  It's really about living life that is being shaped by the Gospel.  Am I living the Nicene Creed?  Do I really believe all of those things?  Am I seeing that I need a physician to heal me from this horrible disease of sin?  If so, isn't that truly Orthodoxy?  Metropolitan Jonah gave a talk several months (if not a year) ago on the Catechumenate in which he said that it's not a time to catch up on 1500 years of Church History.  It's an opportunity to work on making the best first confession you can make.  I'm trying to live in light of that, and following the advice of my priest and the commands of our Lord.  May God break my heart this Nativity Fast with His love for a broken world, and may the compassion that He showed to a sinful people inform my every action and every thought.

More is coming!

To all our faithful readers and followers, accept this as my apology for not updating in the last week or so. Due to Holiday activity, family, weddings, and what-not writing has been rather low on the priority list.  Oddly enough, playing ridiculous Facebook games has not been that low.  Please forgive us.  More to come in the coming week!  Have a blessed St. Nicholas day!

A Hurried Pilgrimage and the Sacred Space Inside My Car

My oldest daughter and I went down to St. Vladimir's Orthodox Theological Seminary in Yonkers, NY today.  Our plan had been to go down and venerate the relics of  St. Vladimir (one of my spiritual heroes) which were going to be at St. Vlad's for the weekend.  It was a trip of about 3 1/2 hours one-way, and we were going to stop to see my old roommate in Poughkeepsie on the way back.  I was planning on spending a little more time than we actually did, but things didn't work out that way. As a consequence, I'm still dealing with what I can only term as "buyer's remorse."  I don't regret going, but I do wonder what part of it was worthwhile.

The website said that Divine Liturgy was going to begin at 9 in the morning.  No chance we were going to make it for that, so we took our time eating breakfast and making our way south along the Taconic.  When I got to Yonkers and finally found my way through the streets to the seminary I nearly drove by it twice.  (Not a lot of signage present for a major theological institution.)  We found parking easily and the chapel was dead straight in front of us.  My little girl and I got out, stretched our legs, gathered our supplies, and made our way up the hill to the small roundish building that is the Three Heirarchs Chapel.  I realized about half the way up the hill that the liturgy was still happening.  Oh well.  Probably communion.

I wasn't just wrong.   I was very wrong.  We arrived smack dab in the middle of the Great Entrance.  They weren't letting people all the way into the nave, obviously, but I got to watch the bishop process through followed by about eight priests and at least as many deacons and subdeacons.  A very friendly man in a white shirt and dark suit coat started beckoning for those of us waiting around to make our way in and to the front.  The relics were right there in their little blue box.  The people in front of me were making prostrations.  I could only cross myself and bow.  (Holding a little one makes for a rather clumsy prostration, and I figured St. Vladimir would forgive me if I didn't go all the way to the ground.)  No sooner do I realize that we're now in the building and that it's going to be hard to leave in order to make our lunch date, but then I realize that (given the Heirarchical nature of the Liturgy) we were in for at least another 45 minutes with all of these people taking communion!  We left.  Lord's Prayer and everything going on around us, we packed up and went.

During the drive up to Poughkeepsie I was asking myself, what was all of this for?  Was it worth all of the effort for a very short time to spend before the relics and in the presence of God during the Liturgy?  All of this for a paper icon and $3.05 for gas?  Or was there, maybe, something I was supposed to get out of this experience that I hadn't yet understood or grasped in all the hurry of the morning and afternoon.  To top it off, I came home and both girls went crazy for about an hour and Felicity and I just stared at each other.  What had all of this been about?

I checked facebook when I got home.  My old priest had requested that I remember his wife and son while in front of the relics.  I was supposed to remember people?  I just crossed myself, bowed, kissed the box, and then left.  I don't know that I had really remembered to pray for myself let alone anyone else.  Why was I so stupid?  Why was I so forgetful?  Did I do the whole thing wrong?

I'm coming to realize, now, the sacred nature of the whole day.  From the time the alarm went off and I decided to take my daughter out for the day so that her mother could stay home and finish her projects uninterrupted to the time we got home and I tried to debug my brain from all of the clutter, I had been in a truly sacramental moment in time.  We made a special trip for the purpose of venerating the relics of this beloved saint.  We had taken part, however brief, in the worship of heaven during the Liturgy.  And even though I hadn't thought to say more than a brief "Holy St. Vladimir, pray for us" while at the relics, I know that I don't have to be there in order for his intercessions to play a part in my life.  God knows that Fr. C. tried to get in touch with me and is at work in the lives of his wife and child.  God knows the prayers that went unspoken.  Through some mystical union that I have yet to understand, all of my failures to "get it right" are all taken up and made right in the presence of an all-knowing, all-loving God.

Our little Chevy became the sanctuary.  Our hours of driving, playing, singing, walking, eating, laughing, and enjoying each other's company became our liturgy.  God blesses us even when we don't understand how He can get through the baggage we bring to the table.  Maybe the next time we'll plan things better.  Maybe the next time I'll realize that it's not always about the destination so much as the journey.

Surprised by the nomination

Eastern Christian New Media Awards: Voting is open!: "Please go vote here."

Many thanks to whoever nominated us. Humbled. But we're against Molly Sabourin, and there's no way we'll take that prize. :-)

Weekend plans

This is one of those personal/religious updates you hear so much about.  Come to think of it, the more that I look at and try to live out this Orthodoxy thing, I've discovered there's really very little difference between the two.

Good husband points: taking the oldest for a Saturday away!

Plan for the day: Drive down to St. Vlad's to pay our respects to the man himself (St. Vladimir, not Fr. Tom) and spend some time enjoying a warm Autumn afternoon before heading home!

The Approaching Season

Yesterday, we experienced an interesting mix of precipitation which resulted in a light crust of ice and snow accumulating on the grass.  While meteorologically it may not have been significant, when coupled with the arrival of the first Christmas toy catalogs, I was suddenly faced with just how fast The Holidays are approaching.  I always seem to find myself being caught off guard by this time of year.  Perhaps this is because, for much of my life, October and November were a whirlwind of extracurriculars and projects which, after a quick breather in the first week of December, dumped me unceremoniously into Exams, end of the year dances (with associated drama), my birthday and then Christmas itself.  Needless to say, for me there's a heavy dose of dread entwined with the usual Christmas merriment.

This year, however, is quite different.  First, I'm not in school, so the rhythm of that life is gone (incidentally, I've been out of school for a while now, it's just a hard habit to shake).  Second, we have a toddler who will be able to truly experience the magic of the holidays for the first time.  Thirdly, and most significantly, we wont be celebrating Christmas (or Thanksgiving, for that matter) in the same way, and I have no idea how different things will be.  I'm excited to learn about the difference between western Christmas and eastern Nativity, but that old feeling of dread is still there, though perhaps tinged more by nervousness and apprehension.  I rather dislike the unknown.

This brings me back to looking out the window yesterday afternoon, watching the sleet turn into snow, and realizing that the next few months will be very different for us and, seeing as how these things tend to run into each other, our church life wont really slow down again until... May, maybe?  July?

I'm ashamed to admit it, but there is a [small] part of me that longs for the days when the church status quo was only interrupted for Christmas Eve and Good Friday.

The rest of me is ready to embrace this new aspect of our lives wholeheartedly.  Feasts, festivals, fasting - Bring it.

No witty titles, just thanks

I once had a conversation with my mother that went something to the effect of: "Is it all just the externals? Crossing yourself, Jesus on a crucifix, candles, robes?"  I kind of stare blankly.  At that particular point in our year of exploration these things had stopped being externals and just part of Sunday morning.  I had a moment today that went something like, the one thing I would say that I really like about being Orthodox that is actually an external: The Cherubic Hymn.  I called it an external because, truly, it's just one hymn out of the thousands of available hymns that have been written over the past 8 millenia or so of worship.

We sing a very beautiful Cherubic Hymn at our parish.  It's very American.  I love it.  Lots of playing back and forth between the four parts.  Not to mention the echo created by the two not-exactly-domes we have in our Nave.  I love that moment.  We sing it through twice.  The way our service goes is slightly different than other parishes, and by the time the Great Entrance comes around we've finished it and need to go again.  It's my favorite part of the service.  No matter what parish we happen to be in, it will always be my favorite part.

A friend at our old parish once told me that the thing that got him convinced of Orthodoxy was this moment.  If that's not actually Jesus coming through the people, then why bother.  If we aren't actually welcoming the King of Glory, let's all go home.  I remember the first time this hymn had truly caught my attention.  That line, "Let us now lay aside all earthly/worldly cares," just arrested my attention.  I had been so distracted by the cares and worries of my life and then...reminded.  I still haven't taken communion--I'm not one of the faithful, yet--but I have been part of that heavenly procession.  I want to know this more and more.

One of the things I like about being Orthodox: The Cherubic Hymn.

Eastern Christian New Media Awards: 2010 Awards nominations open

Not asking for nominations. I think it's good to know that the time is coming to make your favorite Orthodox web sources for recognition! Please take time to visit the sites of previous winners and explore the depths of their knowledge.

Eastern Christian New Media Awards: 2010 Awards nominations open: "Nominations are now open! To nominate an entrant simply click on one of the below links. Multiple nominations are welcomed and encouraged. ..."

Working on finding a new rhythm

Glory to God in all things!  Cliche?  Maybe.  True?  Definitely!

I had a most excellent day with my brother; we're building a doll house for my oldest.  She'll be two this March, so it's not a very complicated doll house -- basically four large rooms which we will paint in bright primary colors on Tuesday evening when my brother comes again.  All of this in preparation for Christmas, which I know seems early, but Christmas at our house will also come a little early, at least as far as this particular present is concerned.  Why do you care about this?  Good question.

I had a wonderful conversation with one of the brothers at the local monastery.  I'm still trying to force a "rigorous" catechesis onto my life, you see, and I was hoping to get a kick in the spiritual pants.  (For more on this weekend and our family's "need" for spiritual highs, please read Felicity's wonderful post Spiritual Ups and Downs.)  I certainly got a good nudge in the right direction, but it wasn't what I was hoping for.  Maybe I can unpack this slightly better.

Living with E., I watched him struggle through a very strenuous catechesis.  His prayer rule was a good hour a day (half an hour for morning prayers and half an hour for evening prayers), plus a certain number of Jesus Prayers, prostrations, and spiritual reading.  I was really looking forward to this.  Ascesis is not a dirty word in my book.  I once tried fasting Muslim style during Ramadan.  After the first hallucination I gave up.  This is me, though.  I want to be given stringent instructions and upbraided for my inability to follow them.  Weird, right?

Fr. Stavros took a different approach.  Given that we have two small children (two under two), a new house, not a lot of money, a busy work week, et al. just taking any time to pray is better than trying to struggle to maintain morning and evening prayers.  Sometimes, he said, you find the time to pray when you can; and that discipline is more important than keeping some unrealistic rule that doesn't fit into your daily life.  I hate when monks tell me things like this.  He's the third, and it pisses me off (sorry if that bothers you).  The truth of the matter is that I want to be Jesus.  I really want to have the final say on my spiritual development, and I believe that God will honor my well intentioned revision of His plan for my life.  Surely when I reach the spiritual heights discussed in the Desert Fathers and other compendiums (which I will be able to accomplish following three easy steps in three months for no more than 3 hours a day), He'll hand me the heavenly crown early and I can just breeze through life.

Arrogant much?  And so I'm getting back to normal.  God is still loving, and I'm learning to live within His time table without any suggestions for change.  I am incredibly sinful.  I have noticed what a jerk I am.  I've been keenly aware of bitterness and resentment.  I feel I'm constantly complaining (just ask Felicity).  In short, I have enough to worry about just living where I am now without trying to force my square peg into someone else's round hole.

A new rhythm is needed.  So we're trying to pray together (like really say prayers) once a day (usually at night), say prayers at meal times, and remember to pray when the time is available to me (usually with my little brown prayer beads).  I'm still discontent most of the time and feel a little directionless; but God is faithful, and I need to learn how to trust Him.