Life without baby

My (Peter's) parents took our daughter for the weekend.  It's a Father's Day present either to my dad or to me.  I'm not sure which.  Maybe both.  We're going to take the offering either way and enjoy some much needed husband and wife time before little girl #2 comes along sometime around Dormition.  As a consequence, we have been enjoying a wonderful weekend of church services, outings, dinners, and a soon-to-be experienced Toy Story 3 outing.


This was our first opportunity to take in the Vespers service at church this weekend.  Usually, do to our little monkey's sleep schedule, we aren't able to make it.  It's also a long drive.  We made it a point to go this weekend, because we wanted to go to the Akathist service to the Mother of God Healer of Cancer that our parish celebrates whenever it can fit into the calendar.  This was our first time we've been able to attend.


If you recall from the second part of my story from earlier in the year (found here) my first Orthodox service was an Akathist service to the Mother of God.  This was the first official Akathist I have attended since our decision to explore Orthodoxy began, and it was a very interesting experience.  I'm afraid I don't have a whole lot to say about it now.  I'd like to make a posting later about my experiences getting to know the Theotokos and devotion to her.  To say the least, it was a very moving service and we were personally very blessed to have been part of that experience with our parish.


This Sunday I was able to be part of the whole service!  Usually, I am in and out with the little girl; but without her there, we were able to stay (and stand) through the whole of the Divine Liturgy.  I find that week after week, I am learning and seeing things that I haven't experienced before.  The most significant part of this week was the sense of belonging that I have started to feel.  We've begun singing in the choir.  I was asked to play chess with an old Russian gentleman.  Felicity was having very personal conversations with various people and women in the church!  I got this sense of family that I haven't had since graduating from seminary and moving away from all our friends.


My family and I may never get along over Orthodoxy.  We may always have arguments about Saints, the Theotokos, Liturgy, Theology, et al.   It's ok.  We have family.  There are people who have entered into our life (some temporal and others eternal) who are looking out for us and will make sure that we're never truly alone.  Sorry if this posting is a little vague.

Weakness and Strength

Peter has been encouraging me to blog, despite my instance that there's "nothing" to blog about.  Of course, I realize that not actually having anything specific to write about hardly stops a blogger, in fact it probably encourages most of them.  I, on the other hand, like to wait for big events to happen which might provide for interesting reading material.  Lately, there haven't been too many of these.

Since we returned from our numerous vacations (to the beach with my parents, to a wedding in Ohio, to my sister's bridal shower) life has been relatively monotonous.  As an introvert, I'm really okay with this.  I like to spend my days at home, playing with our daughter, doing some house work, reading, sewing, and being quiet.  Lately, however, even these mundane and simple tasks have been difficult, the reason for which lends me my topic for today.

I'm not sure if we've mentioned it before, but I am currently in my seventh month of, so far, a wonderfully uneventful pregnancy.  The biggest problem I've had has been keeping my iron count and, consequently, my energy level up.  I've never been big on exercising or physical labor, but lately even little things like having breakfast in the morning or going up and down the stairs leave me out of breath and longing for a nap.  I know that there are many people with many conditions that have similar issues, but as a young woman who has been healthy her entire life this experience is completely new and foreign to me.  My natural inclination is to use the exhaustion as an excuse to be lazy, this then leads me to feel guilty about letting Peter pick up the slack in the house work, as well as thoughts about how bad I am at being a good wife, stay at home mom, etc.

Here's where our journey into Orthodoxy has met me head on.  First, I have a name for those depressing thoughts: logosmoi.  Just having a label is nice - it allows me to recognize them for what they are and dismiss them.  Second, I have found that I have the strength to do some things and that that strength comes from the Father and no where else.  That I have the ability to do anything by myself, even when not pregnant, is an illusion.  All my strength comes from Him - this experience has made that fact more apparent.  Finally, I know that I do not have the strength to do all that I feel is expected of me, but I can do all that He expects of me and there is much freedom in that.  I may be able to do the dishes, but I can't do the dishes, mop the floor, vacuum, do laundry and go shopping.  

That's okay.  Things will get done in their own time.  I can let go and rest in his light yoke.

Let Us Attend: Part 2

It's been several weeks since my last post about Let Us Attend, by Fr. Lawrence Farley from Canada.  Here's the link in case you forgot what I wrote and/or need a refresher on the book and where you can buy it.  Since I wrote the last post, I've had time to finish the book (twice) and process a little bit more about my Sunday morning experiences at church.  The last time I wrote, I was thinking a lot about the focus of worship on Sunday morning.  This time, I've been contemplating about the lessons of worship.


Reminders
Each week I leave church reminded of three things: Who God is, Who I am, and Who Jesus is.  I am thrust into these reminders very quickly.  The first few Antiphons serving as a prologue or thesis statement on the rest of the Liturgy.  If you asked me what Church was about, I would tell you (with very little variation), that it was about those three things.

Who God is
Without being a theological treatise on the nature of God, this is what I learn each week: God is loving, good, compassionate, merciful, forgiving, and holy.  The words of the first two antiphons (Ps. 103 and 145, respectively) remind me of these truths.

"Bless the Lord, o my soul, and all that is within me bless His holy Name...  The Lord is compassionate and merciful, of great goodness....  He will not always chide....  He maintains His faithfulness to all generations...."

We then get to hear about His work in history through the reading of Scripture (always preceded by psalms and Alleluias).  The service climaxes with the request that He come into our lives, fill us, bless us, and turn the gifts on the table (mysteriously) into the Body and Blood of Christ.  God is.  That is what I learn each week about God.

Who I am
In a metaphysical sense, I am a creature of material make up.  More than that, though, I am created in God's image and destined to be made like Him by His work in me through the Holy Spirit.  We remind each other throughout the service to worship God with our whole being, that He is compassionate and merciful to the humble; but He resists the proud.  Lay aside pride.  Sit at His feet.  Drink deeply of His mercy.

The Scripture lessons remind me that I am sinful and in need of a savior.  They also remind me that God chose to be that savior.  That He loved me so much that He became a human being to live and die for me and rescue me from Hell.  That reality is never more clear than at the time of communion.  As I sit and watch the faithful go forward to the chalice, I truly do wish for them to taste the Bread of Life and drink from the Fountain of Immortality.  I want that for them, because I want that for me.  We are all one body, and I am so dependent on each of them right now--their prayers and support.

Who Christ is
Christ is God incarnate.  Christ is the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, who took on flesh and blood and lived and died in real time.  His picture is in our room.  His mother and His faithful followers adorn our church.  His eyes follow me.  His presence permeates the room where we worship.

The icon of Christ at our church is in English.  The Gospel text is "Come unto me all you who are weary...."  Every week I approach that icon and place all my cares into his hands.  I come to Him, asking to have my burden lifted.  I teach my daughter to worship Him alone.  When I leave church each week I go out knowing that He was born, lived, died, rose again, ascended, intercedes for us, and will someday come again.

Reminders
Let us attend.  Let us be attentive.  It's a call for each of us to "lay aside all earthly cares" and to listen to what is being said.  The human mind wanders, and the imagination gets away from us.  Those times when we are reminded to listen are there for our benefit, because God knows what it's like to have distractions, and the Church knows that people are weak and need reminders.  So let us attend.  God is present.  God is loving.  You are a sinner who needs Jesus.  Jesus loves you so much He died for you.  Remember.

Coming up empty

This week has been really hard.  Beginning at the beginning, Felicity's parents visited church this weekend.  We had let them read Frederica's 12 Things article to prepare them for the service.  Even though they've had a girl living with them who is also exploring Orthodoxy, they've never been to the Divine Liturgy before.  (In case you don't remember, her parents grew up either irreligious or very strictly fundamentalist.  Neither is very comfortable around a lot of ceremony.)  This Sunday being Pentecost, the service was really different.  We didn't even know what was going on, and trying to help them follow along was also hard.

The trip back home was really nice.  A lot of good conversations: what was happening when..., why did they..., what did that mean...? Good questions, good conversation.  It also continued into the afternoon and evening.  They both thanked us for taking them and I think they're doing some processing of their own.  My mother-in-law kept saying, "I'm a Protestant!  This is so different!"  Not in a bad way, just as an observation.

Sunday afternoon I also had a conversation at a McDonald's with my parents.  My mom kept calling it my "Greek Orthodoxy Thing" (she doesn't get Jurisdictional heirarchy any more than I do).  She asked me "Is this Jesus plus?"  No.  "So you don't worship Mary?"  No.  "Transubstantiation in communion?"  It's still bread and wine, but it's not just bread and wine.  I felt really blindsided by the conversation.  I knew it was going to be coming up, I just wasn't prepared for it.  Their main concern was that we spend time thinking about all that we're doing--as opposed to just popping up and doing it because it's new and shiny.  Good concern to have.  They're very wise people.

If a few weeks ago I felt fine not knowing anything, I don't feel that way anymore.  Why is it so hard to have a good day after you spend the morning and evening praying?  Why are the attacks so much more violent now?  How come I can't "greet the coming day with peace" or see "everything that happens as sent by You"?  Why does our relationship feel more strained than it used to?  How come I can't just answer the questions our parents ask?  I'm just coming up short in so many ways, and that's very hard.

The past few days have been very hard as well.  My last check from the old job comes this week.  I work for very little money--not enough to really pay all of the bills that we have.  I had a really good interview on Monday with a school down here, but I'm still waiting to hear if I'll have a job or not.  No one else is calling.  This is where real life meets fantasy, and I'm caught somewhere in the middle of it all.

It's hard to keep praying, when praying seems to make things harder.  It's hard to stay faithful, when you realize that you haven't given as much thought to what you're doing as your parents (or others) think you should have.  I know we're only in the beginning of this experience.  I know there's more, better things to come.  Right now, the sky is dark and I'm waiting for the moon to rise.

The Parents' Visit

This past week we enjoyed a wonderful vacation in a beach side condo with my parents.  Oh the joy of Sabbath.  The week culminated, after our return home, with my parents coming to liturgy with us.  It was their first time in an Orthodox service and maybe their second in a liturgical service - they usually attend a non-denominational, "low threshold" church (see my previous entry about growing up in the Vineyard).  We did our best to prepare them by talking about the service and having them read Frederica Matthewes Greene's essay "12 things I wish I'd known..."

The service itself went well, aside from it being Pentecost so following the Liturgy in the book was difficult, and my mom took a break from the incense for fifteen minutes or so after the homily.  Coffee hour was great, since it gave them a chance to talk to some members of the congregation.

I think the toughest part, at least for my mom, was the lingo (Theotokos, antiphon, anaphora, Eucharist, etc.). As she said "it takes Christianese to a whole other level."  Somehow we also failed to impart the fact that the iconostasis (you know, the wall with the pictures at the front) separated the congregation from the altar, not a storage closet.

Overall, it was a good visit and led to many conversations.  My parents are very interested in parts of Orthodoxy that I haven't thought about.  For instance, missions has always been big for them and they wondered how modern Orthodox reach out to the "unchurched", both in the States and around the world.  It's definitely something we will be looking into - I know Orthodox mission organizations exist, but that's about all I know at this point.

Basically, I think as long as we can keep the communication lines open they'll be okay with our eventual conversion - if we decide to go that route.  They don't seem to be opposed to anything in particular, just ignorant.

Here's one final anecdote from the weekend that I'll share because I found it to be very encouraging:

On Saturday evening, after a long conversation about Orthodoxy and the upcoming service, my mom asked my dad if he recalled the first time my grandmother had visited their church shortly after they were married.  Oh yes, he remembered.  My grandmother had always attended very strict traditional churches (my mom grew up Brethren, at the time I think she was attending a CMA church) and my parents were worried about her reaction to their more modern non-denominational church.  I think they were mostly concerned about the extreme difference in musical style, but come the Sunday of the visit a rather charismatic guest preacher spoke on the gift of tongues.  My grandmother, however, slept through most of the service and didn't have nearly the reaction they had feared.

Hearing this story, I thought back over all the conversations Peter and I have had about how our parents may or may not react to our exploration of Orthodoxy.  While my mom had no knowledge of those conversations, it was clear in that moment that Someone who did knew I needed some reassurance.

Still on vacation

Sorry we haven't updated recently.  Currently, we're still on vacation in North Myrtle Beach with Felicity's parents.  I hope you all have had a blessed week.  We'll be updating more after this weekend.  Her folks are coming with us to church on Sunday!  Prayers, please.

Xenia and Amelia

I'm beginning to settle into the pattern of our new church life.  I find that I enjoy saying morning and evening prayers and am becoming more comfortable praying in front of/with our icon corner.  My Protestant, Evangelical, Post-Modern self is relaxing, letting the Spirit work in ways that I previously never thought possible.  For example, we recently acquired an icon of St. Xenia.  She's rather obscure, as saints go and, from what I've read, lived out her faith in a way that most people would find ridiculous.  But, she got it.  She knew what was required of her and she did it faithfully.  When I see her icon, I'm reminded of the sacrifice she made, of the life she lived and the life she chose not to live, and I pray that she can help me do the same. 

I've never before made that sort of personal connection with a dead Christian (though I realize that is very much the wrong phrase).  The point remains: the "great cloud of witnesses" has, up until now, been just that - a cloud.  It was nice to know that a nebulous group of believers who lived through history had "gone before", but for the first time I'm beginning to see them as individuals with stories and experiences.  A "great cloud" of untapped spiritual resources who all want me and my family to succeed in this crazy journey and draw closer to Christ than they did in their own time on earth.

Another saint who seems to pop into our lives a lot is St. Amelia/Emily/Emilia.  She's also not very well known, in fact I wonder how much of her popularity is due to her life's work and how much is due to the prevalence of Emilys and Amys who take her as their patroness.  In any case, I was struck by the bit of text that is often found on her icons: "I and the children I have born".  As a young mother myself, I find that this simple phrase strikes deep.  It's hard right now to imagine my daughter as doing anything great in the world when she can barely walk from the living room to the kitchen without falling over, much less this new baby who will (with God's help) be born in a few months.  Yet I know that they will not always be babies, that someday they will have the opportunity to make a significant impact in the lives of others and, as their mother, it's my job to help them recognize those opportunities and give them the courage to seize them.  It seems both a simple and an impossible task, and it is reassuring to know that at least one mother did it so well that she was made a saint.

Not yet a catechumen

Sunday morning was funny.  I had a look at "the other half" while sitting just outside the doors to our little mission at a table.  My daughter A was acting up in the service, so I took her into the other room.

A little background on our little girl.  She's one.  9:30 is nap time.  10:00 is Liturgy.  You can see the problem that would arise from the collision of the two.  We try to get her up early on Sunday (6:30ish) to put her down for an early nap (8:15-:30ish) and then get on the road by 9:30 to be there by the end of the Hours and the beginning of Liturgy.  Around the Homily the little one gets restless, and it's usually Daddy who entertains her while Momma (who is incubating #2) can sit through the rest of the service.  (We usually change an incredible amount of diapers in this 2hr period.)

The aside being completed, the little girl and I were sitting at a table in the hall/narthex trying to pay attention.  While we were sitting, she started to eat cheerios from her little cup.  Another little girl was sitting across from us with her mom.  They're Orthodox.  Keep in mind, we aren't yet.  Little girl, probably 3 years old (at the most) points out that my little girl is eating cheerios.  It's actually really cute, because she really needs her mommy to see that the other little girl gets to eat (and I assume that the extension is, how come I can't eat).  Her mom whispers in her ear - she informs her little girl that because we aren't Orthodox, we don't have to fast on Sundays, because we aren't taking communion.

I'm comfortable being where we on our journey.  I believe that God is directing us, and we're following His guidance as best we can.  I'm not trying to rush anything.  In matter of fact, we're very contended where we are, waiting for guidance before we move any further in.  Not yet a catechumen.  Really not much of an anything.  But we're there to worship.  We're there to offer our praises to a living God who loves us and saved us from sin.  Lord, have mercy on us and bring us safely to the harbor.

Prayer corner

Felicity and I have received a very gracious gift from some friends at church.  They're moving (sadly) and needed to pass on some of their icons they won't have the room for, and haven't used in quite a while.  First thing that I discovered, nothing is accidental.  Second thing I discovered, when you open yourself up to who may be in your life, you discover just how many people are in your life.  Here's out little icon "corner":
                                                                               
The icons, in order of appearance are: Christ (center), St. Damiano Cross (top-center), St Herman of Alaska (top left), St Seraphim of Sarov (Top right) St. Xenia of St. Petersburg (bottom left), St. Nicholas (Bottom right) with a synaxis of the angels center bottom.  On the table we keep some print-out icons from the GOA and a paper diptych.  The center Triptych will be going in the car, eventually.




Here's where the first of my discoveries comes in: Nothing is accidental.  I've had the St. Nicholas icon for about 3 years, now.  It was a present from my roommate.  I got him in Grad School when I learned he was the patron saint of scholars (along with, apparently, everybody else).  When I first made real steps to explore orthodoxy, some "friends" on the Monachos dot Net website told me to look into the life of St. Herman.  Someone else told me to look into the life of St. Seraphim of Sarov.  Lastly, when I lost my job, numerous people told me to pray to St. Xenia of St Petersburg.  All of these are now currently situated in our home altar.  Nothing is accidental.

I wasn't sure what we'd discover in our Eastern Orthodox year.  So far, I have to say, things are really good.  I feel like people are going to bat for us.  Our priest is watching out for us and praying for us.  People we hardly know are giving us icons of men and women who have connected themselves to our family.  What a day.  What a great God.

Through the prayers of Sts. Seraphim, Herman, Xenia, and Nicholas may God have mercy on us and save us.

Meetings with priests

Lunch this afternoon with our priest.  We don't really have a topic of conversation to throw at him, but we want to sit and talk and pray and learn from him.  I haven't really sat down next to a member of clergy and talked about something non work related in a very long time.  I'm really excited just to be around him, hear more about his story, and to hear what he has to say to us about our spiritual journey.

One thing we do want to talk with him about is our personal spiritual life as it stands.  We've been praying morning and evening for about a month, and less frequently reading the daily Scriptures.  I want to talk about his, hear his advice and direction, and enjoy his input into our lives. 

Let Us Attend: Part 1

Last weekend we were finally able to give again.  It's been a long time since we've even tithed.  Not because we haven't wanted to, mind you, but we were waiting to find a church to belong to--and as such to give regularly to.  Having found this, we were able to express freedom and love in one fell swoop.  This is just introduction.  Thank you for reading.  Now let's move on from personal to religious affections.  (That's right.  Jonathan Edwards in an Orthodox blog.  Thought I'd put that out there for my Protestant brethren.)

I picked up a copy of Fr. Lawrence Farley's Let Us Attend: A Journey Through the Orthodox Divine Liturgy.  If you haven't had a chance to read it, you can find it at Amazon and Conciliar Press.  I had listened to Dcn. Michael Hyatt's "At the Intersection of East and West" podcast about Fr. Schmemann's For the Life of the World, so this isn't new material on an intellectual level; but I've never been so blown away by the profound simplicity of the journey that is the Divine Liturgy.  Today was an example of that realization coming home to me.  I kinda want to take some time and process this book as I read it.

Destination: The Kingdom of Heaven.  When the priest stands up at the front of the church, makes the sign of the cross with the Gospel book, and makes the opening benediction, he is inviting everyone around him--the whole world--to come with him on a journey to the Kingdom of Heaven.  I'm sure most of you realize this, have read it, or have heard it explained to you before.  To me, this is revolutionary.
        As a Protestant so much of our services seemed to be focused on "getting God to show up;" as though if we sang the right songs, prayed the right prayers, and preached out of the right book (biblical or not), then God would show up and we'd sense His presence in an exciting way that moved everyone in the room to tears.  All very contrived.  All very artificial.  All very subjective.  All of it dependent on the person in the pew, and if you don't have that experience it's that other person's fault.  (so there!)
        We've now been going to an Orthodox church for a month, and the expression "God really showed up today" has yet to be said.  If this were a new Protestant church, I'd be tempted to blame it on the music, the preaching, the whatever.  I think the reason no one says that in the Orthodox church, is because it's assumed that God is there already; and we're on a journey to meet Him.  He's there whether we realize it or not, but what a brilliant experience of transcendence if we're able to recognize His presence among us and celebrate along with the whole of Creation in its beauty.  God is in this place.  Come and meet Him.  That's what I hear the priest say when he invites us to come along to the Kingdom.

Reminder/Invitation: Right after the priest sets our spiritual compass toward the Kingdom, we pray.  We pray for everything and everyone.  According to Fr. Lawrence, this is called either the Litany of Peace or the Great Litany, depending on the church or the person.  Apparently, this was once said right after the Catechumens went out of the room and before the Faithful took communion.  It wasn't until the 13th century that it found its home at the front of the service. 
        Fr. Lawrence describes this action as an incredible act of love.  That the Church gathers into its arms the hurting, the poor, the lost, the suffering, the defenseless and places them before the Throne.  "[The Church] may think their work hopeless and beyond their strength.  But in this petition, the Church invokes a strength beyond theirs; and all such workers for peace, whether Christian or not, are helped by the Christian God, the Savior and Lover of all men, and the Giver of peace to His world." (Farley, pg. 18)  Everything in the natural and political world is prayed for.
        Praying for mercy at the end of each petition, the Church is asking for God's covenant loyalty or hesed.  i was really struck by this idea.  When I first heard "Lord have mercy" in my first Orthodox services, I was taken aback by how pejorative it sounded--as if God were angry and needing to be appeased by our feeble, human petitions.  This isn't the case!  This is about calling on God to remember His loving kindness and everlasting loyalty.  Christ's promise before leaving this world was, "I am always with you."  We're taking that promise to heart and asking Him to be with everyone--this whole sick, broken, twisted, dark planet that He came to save.  It's like the church invites everyone to come along with them on that journey to the Kingdom.  "Give me your huddle masses..." and let me care for them, she says to the world that is so tilted and slanted towards the rich and powerful.  Whoever you are, whatever you've done, come to the Table and taste of the good things of the Lord!
        I know that, technically, the priest gives the invitation; but the people gathered, the laity--the people of God--echo that invitation to those around them (both inside and outside) to come and see.  We're not just inviting people to church so that hopefully they'll pray the prayer and escape the fires of hell and the fear of the "rapture".  We're inviting people to a celebration, and singing festal songs as we go.  I was realizing today that the Antiphons are really processional/festival songs.  In the OCA we sing Psalm 102/3, 104 and the Beattitudes.  We sing to "hallel" Psalms (Bless the Lord, Oh my soul... and Praise the Lord, oh my soul...) and then remind ourselves what Kingdom citizens look like: poor in spirit, meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the persecuted--outcasts and underdogs whose God loves them and blesses them and invites them to have a relationship with Him.

I'm still processing all of this.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that, it's not about God showing up and us having an experience to tell others.  It's about going to meet God, experiencing His real presence in our lives, and telling others of the love that we've found.  God doesn't "show up".  We show up; and He invites us to follow Him further up and further in, singing as we go.

Feeling Like Such a Newbie

This morning during the homily it struck me: I know this story, but I feel like I'm learning it again.  Today was the Sunday of the Paralytic.  The story of Jesus meeting the man at the Pools of Bethesda, asking if he wants to be healed, and restoring his legs under him so that he can get up and walk home.  I've known this story since Kindergarten, I've been to Bethesda, and have even translated it from the Greek.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's not the first time I've heard this miracle of Christ retold, preached on, and/or applied to daily life.  Today it was like hearing this story for the first time again.

I'm such a newbie, and I'm actually really comfortable with that.  I have to admit that I don't know what I'm doing!  It's so bizarre to be okay with that.  I'm not the type of person who is just fine with not know what's going on, having all the answers, or teaching (read: telling other people what to do).  I'm finding that putting myself in the position of learner (not teacher) is both spiritually and psychologically beneficial.  Spiritually, I'm learning what it means to be childlike.  Psychologically, I'm finding healing in the beauty and life changing experience of the Divine Liturgy.

My previous experience in church didn't allow me to be a learner.  I had to be the teacher.  I had to have the answers to hard questions: I was a minister of the Gospel after-all.  It led to a lot of pride and judgmentalism.  I was in a position to see and experience everyone's brokenness and compare it to my own comparative wholeness.  This is the lie I told myself and heard every day for three years.  I'm finding that, as I sit on the floor of our tiny mission church, that I am too separated from what it means to be a disciple of Christ.  I am beginning to realize that I'm such a baby in the Faith.  Praise God for my parents, pastors, mentors, teachers, and others who have patiently raised me to this point; but it's time to move beyond milk toast and date syrup.  I need to eat meat--not just ground chuck (easy to chew and digest), but steak.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm contented.  I realize that I don't have all (or any) answers.  I don't know what I'm doing.  I don't know what's happening to me, but I pray that all of this means that God is at work in my life and the life of my family.  Pray for us.

Our First Sunday at Our Church

We made the decision last week.  If you've been reading, then you know this.  What you may or may not realize is that we have been sitting around as restless as if we were sitting on an ant hill, waiting for today to get here!  I haven't been this excited to go to church in well over a year.  This is "our" church now.  We have a priest.  We have a choir.  We have a calendar of church events!  What does all this mean?  It means we feel like we belong.  This isn't our first Sunday at this parish.  It is our first Sunday at this parish as our parish.  This place is where we go to church, along with so many other wonderful people!  More to come later.

Becoming Excited Again

As we begin to put some chronological distance between ourselves and the vaguely negative undertones of the previous weekend, we have found ourselves becoming excited about next weekend and our return to the OCA parish.  Partially, this stems from the wonderful reception we had there a few weeks ago.  But, additionally, we need to be part of a community again and interact with other adults.

Peter, especially I think, needs to get out into society.  I'm used to being at home all day with the baby and am actually rather excited - home now consists of a 5 bedroom, two story house with front and back yards, instead of a two bedroom apartment - but I am realizing that my introvert-self is doing just fine and I should invest in my extrovert-self, puny and neglected though it is.  For Peter, who is very much the extrovert, not only is he unemployed, and therefore spending most days on the computer filling out job applications, but he was accustomed to working at our church where, even at it's lowest points, was always filled with interesting people and work for him to do.We now have a church to call our own.  This weekend we will try to see how we can fit in there and be useful.  It's exciting to be ready for this.  We had said that we want to pour ourselves into parish life for a year, but I don't think either of us realized how much we would need that involvement for our own sanity.

St George, Pray for Us

Last night I went to a joint Liturgy at St. George (one of the local parishes which only has occasional liturgies due to funding and size) for the Eve of St. George.  I got their late.  I always seem to arrive right at the Trisagion of Matins before the Liturgy proper begins.  I was a little disconcerted because, though it was a joint service, it was definitely more for the "regular" parishioners at St. George than for either of the other two churches.  That being said, I found my seat in a pew (still weird for me) and prepared my heart/mind for worship.

Everything was in Greek.  Everything.  I was also one of the the like four people who weren't Greek.  So that's not so big of a deal.  Let's just say that, where the Greek church from this past weekend was aware that there were non-Greeks in attendance, that didn't seem to make a difference at this church.  I say all of this in love.  God was definitely in that place last night.  I was blessed to sit next to a man named Paul who was that guy who exists in every church: completely in love with and devoted to Christ.  He moved to the back of the church so as not to bother people by standing or making deep bows while the majority of the crowd sat through a large portion of the service.  I felt incredibly honored to be worshiping with him.

The service wasn't what I expected.  Most of it was truncated.  The Greek liturgy seems to be shorter and less complex than the Russian.  If that's not true, or if there's a reason for that, let me know. 

The church was beautifully decorated.  St. George's icon was festooned with flowers of red and white, candles were let everywhere, and the pews were full!  There were four celebrating priests and a deacon who--if there was any English--was the one who read/spoke it.  There was a service at the end for blessing five loaves.  I don't know what that was.  I wasn't able to process the name, and the priest apparently mispronounced it, because one of the chanters corrected his Greek--which was kind of cute.  It was a very nice service.


I am so glad that I went.  There was a couple from our church (I love typing that) that I gravitated towards during the feast that followed.  They commented that they had spent a long time in the other Greek parish, and how happy they were to be part of a church where they could understand everything that's going on.  It's true.  Worship in your heart language is really important.  I'm glad that Greek, Arabic, Russian, Bulgarian, etc. are all languages of Orthodoxy and that there is unity between the Jurisdictions.  I'm also glad that English is becoming a Liturgical language as well in the US.

I'm so glad to becoming part of this community of Orthodoxy.  It's going to take quite a lot of getting used to, though.  I need to learn how to navigate between Greek, Russian, and English, it seems.  I'm really thankful for the work the OCA is doing by making Orthodoxy accessible to Americans.  Having visited so many different churches over time, I'm ready to begin my journey in my own language.  Please God, stay with us through all of this.  Holy St. George, pray for us.

Processing Elimination continued

Having reread my last post, I feel a bit guilty and need to apologize to any Greek Orthodox readers who may have stumbled upon our little experiment/lifestyle change.  I have nothing against the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese in America.  In fact, I often use their website for info about the lives of saints, lectionary, icons, links to other Orthodox sites, etc.  I have nothing against people who are Greek or converts who enter the Archdiocese.


One of the things we talked about when we decided to head in the direction of Orthodoxy was a want to be in an English speaking parish.  Understanding that a lot of people in Orthodox churches speak a native tongue other than English, we wanted to be in a parish where the main language of the Liturgy was English.  Nothing against Slavonic, Serbian, Russian, Greek, or Arabic; they are not our mother tongue, and being part of a church where we feel like we can be a part of the congregation without a foreign passport is very important to us.  Having a service where things take place half in Greek (or another language) and half in English is hard for the uninitiated.  Every now and then is fine, but if it's central elements to the worship, it's very challenging to walk in and have no idea what is going on.

I don't know how to best finish this thought.  I keep returning to the fact that we just come from a church that was very enmeshed.  As I said before, everyone was related and had grown up there.  There simply wasn't a schema for how to say "You are welcome here" beyond maybe asking you to volunteer for something.  They certainly bent over backwards when we first arrived, but those things disappeared rather quickly.  Felicity, especially, felt very alone and isolated from the life of the church we attended.  We don't want to be part of that again.  Psychologically, spiritually, emotionally, I need to feel like I'm part of a church and not just an observer--an attendee.  We did that, and that's been overdone in our family.

This isn't/wasn't meant to be polemical.  I'm sorry if it came out that way.  I'm trying to process this whole experience.  We were talking yesterday, and commented that were so thankful that it wasn't a matter of doctrine, theology, or worship.  These things are united.  It was where we felt most welcomed, invited, loved, and accepted.  No icy stares.  No cold shoulders.  No how-do-I-get-out-of-this-conversation fidgets.  I know that Fr. T. will be a great part of our spiritual journey, but he will not be our priest...in the sense that we will be attending another parish on a weekly basis.  Praise God for His priests!  May we always be thankful.

Processing Elimination

I want to begin by saying that the best thing we've encountered so far, aside from purity of doctrine and worship, is--for me, at least--the unity present between Jurisdictions.  One can go between churches, no matter their ethnic or Jurisdictional background, and hear the same liturgy, see the same gifts offered, and be connected in bonds of love and theology with anyone in the room.  Granted, this is an idealized picture; but it is accurate.  Having been to four different churches (across Jurisdictions), I can attest to the theological and doctrinal unity of the Church.  Glory to God in all things.  This is definitely the atmosphere we have stepped into.  Both priests in town have stood firmly behind each other, supporting the others' ministries, and offering us their support and guidance on our journey.  This is a blessing we didn't expect, but it is truly a wealth and treasure of our newly emerging Ecclesiology.

This weekend was really our first Orthodox weekend.  We spent all week saying morning and evening prayers (a rediscovered experience) and went to Vespers last night at the local GO church.  Aside from the priest, two readers, the wife of one of the readers, and their baby, we were the only ones there.  Pretty conspicuous.  It wasn't awkward, but it was disconcerting.  I knew that the service was new to this parish, but I had expected to see some more people.  The church was aesthetically very simple, but quite nice.  Beautiful stained glass windows, a full iconostasis with rather Russian looking icons.  The service was very informal (for an Orthodox service), and quite nice.  Fr. T. made sure to speak with us afterward and the reader and his wife took us out for dinner for a very honest conversation about their lives and their experiences at the two churches.

As Felicity and I were driving home, I felt very much that God was calling us to drive the extra 15 minutes to the OCA church.  No one, and certainly not this couple, has come out and said "Don't go there, it's a bad place."  That would be a lie.  It's not a bad place, and we had a very nice morning.  They were able to give us a little bit of history and background to help us make up our own minds.  One of the things they told us, and the thing I remember most clearly, is that the GO church has a history of drama.  Every 3-5 years or so something happens and people who've been in the church for longer than 20 years suddenly feel like (not being Greek), they're unwelcome.  One thing they mentioned that sticks with me is that the OCA church is a church family vs. an extended family.  That is an important distinction.

The church we left was an extended family church.  Everyone was related.  Everyone grew up there.  They weren't uncaring and unwelcoming, but they didn't see the need to open their doors wide and be inviting--which is part of what's brought them to their current state of turmoil.

This morning's service was confirmation, to me, that we aren't going to be going to the Greek church regularly during our time here.  This idea requires more processing.  To be continued...

Prepping for Another Weekend

Something original.  Finally.  There hasn't been a whole lot to write about that Felicity hasn't covered, but I wanted to process this coming weekend a little bit.  This weekend we're going to the Greek church in town.  Let me give you some background and then go on.

There are three churches in this area.  There's an OCA church and two Greek churches.  We will be going to either the closer of the two Greek churches or the OCA church.  We visited the OCA parish this past Sunday, met with the priest, etc.  The Greeks have been a harder nut to crack: no real website, no e-mail, not big office hours people--but that's neither here nor there.

Only one person that I know, love, and respect has suggested that I go there.  Everyone else has thrown their weight behind the OCA parish.  This puts me in a bit of a bind, emotionally.  I have no reason not to go to the Greek church.  I have no reason not to assume that the Greeks will be just as open, loving, welcoming, and amazing as those we met this past week....except that's not the picture being painted for us by people who either used to attend or used to be the parish priest there!  What's a guy to do?

Our plan is to go.  We'll be at Vespers tomorrow night around 5 and the Liturgy begins around 10 on Sunday.  We'll see how it goes.  I'm not really excited.  Is that wrong?  I have nothing against Greek Orthodox people.  One of the most important people in my life was this priest I mentioned above who made sure that we would be looked out for when we moved here.  He even called ahead of us to make sure that Fr. T. knew were were coming and we're beginning our search.  Leaving things in God's hands is so hard!

Is this what we have to look forward to?

Borrowed from Fr. Joseph Honeycutt's blog.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE SOUTHERN ORTHODOX WHEN:

Number 10) At Pentecost, your church is decorated with Kudzu.

Number 9) You spell "feast" with only three letters: B B Q.

Number 8) You say "Father," "Barsonuphios," and "Monastery" without any pronouncing an "r."

Number 7) You drive 3 hours to an Orthodox Church. But, could hop, on one foot, with your eyes closed (and a rock in your shoe), to the nearest Baptist Church.

Number 6) Your services are all in English -- at least that's what YOU call it.

Number 5) There are women in your church known as: Photini Beth, Thecla Beth, and Elizabeth Beth.

Number 4) There are men going by: Athanasius Lee, Euphrosynos Lee, and Vasiliy Lee.

Number 3) You got white folks, black folks -- even Democrats -- in your parish, but no Russians, Serbians, Arabs or Greeks.

Number 2) You know someone who knows someone who knows someone with a velvet picture of Elvis celebrating the Last Supper.

AND ... the number one sign that you are an Orthodox Southerner:

You think grits are too good to be considered fasting!

(Original found at http://southern-orthodoxy.blogspot.com/2008/06/bless-your-heart-smallah-smallah.html)

The will of God

I'm not trying to swipe anything from Molly Sabourin's Close to Home blog or podcast, but I wanted to share this prayer.  Since Felicity and I arrived in our new locale (and I'm still unemployed), I have been pondering what God wants from us and from our lives.  The priest at the OCA church we visited this Sunday mentioned this prayer, and I wanted to post it here.

The Morning Prayer of Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow
My Lord, I know not what I ought to ask of Thee.
Thou and Thou alone knowest my needs.
Thou lovest me more than I am able to love Thee.
O Father, grant unto me, Thy servant, all which I cannot ask.
For a cross I dare not ask, nor for consolation;
I dare only to stand in Thy presence.
My heart is open to Thee.
Thou seest my needs of which I myself am unaware.
Behold and lift me up!
In Thy presence I stand,
awed and silenced by Thy will and Thy judgments,
into which my mind cannot penetrate.
To Thee I offer myself as a sacrifice.
No other desire is mine but to fulfill Thy will.
Teach me how to pray.
Do Thyself pray within me.
Amen.
(copied from the website of the Orthodox Christian Fellowship)