Faith and Resurrection

Faith and Resurrection

Fr. Dmitri Dudko

(Father Dmitri Dudko was a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church in the late twentieth century.  During the 1970's he initiated a unique style of question and answer sermons, concerning Christianity.  These popular "talks" influenced thousands, and attracted the attention and anger of the Soviet government as well.  Indeed the sufferings mentioned herein by Fr. Dmitri may be understood as those experienced by Christians at the hands of atheist authorities.  They may refer as well to suffering in general for the love of Christ and neighbor, in light of the Resurrection.  Fr. Dmitri fell asleep in the Lord on June 28, 2004 in Moscow. The following are excerpts from one of his remarkable sermons as found in the book, "Our Hope," published by St. Vladimir Seminary Press.)

The first week of Pascha has passed:  Bright Week.  Tradition tells us of how St. Mary Magdalene brought the emperor a decorated egg, saying, "Christ is Risen!"  With this she began her preaching of the risen Christ.  During the first years of the Soviet regime they still allowed debates on religious themes.  One resourceful Metropolitan, instead of answering the claim that "today nobody believes in the resurrection of Christ," turned to those in the hall and proclaimed, "Christ is Risen!"  The hall, which was overflowing with no one but "atheists," answered with a roar:  "Indeed He is Risen!"  We in the Russian Orthodox Church have a remarkable Saint, Seraphim of Sarov, who was canonized just before the Revolution.  He lived in the nineteenth century.  No matter what time of year it was, he greeted all who came to him with the words:  "Christ is Risen, my joy!"  And the warmth of Christ's resurrection filled the soul of each individual.......

Today is Thomas Sunday, the so-called "Sunday of AntiPascha."  ("Anti" in this case does not have its usual meaning of "against."  It means "instead of" or "in place of" Pascha.)  "Doubting Thomas."  This has become the usual term for someone who does not believe.  But in the Gospel, Thomas is the Apostle of the Resurrection.  This is what the Russian philosopher Vladimir Solov'ev wrote on this subject in his Resurrectional Letters:

"In times  of predominant unbelief it is important that we clarify with which type of unbelief we are dealing.  If it is a flagrant lack of faith -- material, beastly, incapable of rising to a real understanding of the truth -- discussion is pointless.  If it is an evil unbelief -- a conscious misuse of various half-truths through hostile fear of the full truth -- one must pursue such a serpent without anger or fear, disclosing its devices and its wiliness.  Finally, if we are dealing with an honest, purely human unbelief, which but hungers for a full and complete certification of the full truth -- the type of unbelief which the Apostle Thomas had -- it enjoys a full right to our moral recognition.   And if, unlike Christ, we are unable to give such people the certification of truth which they demand, then under no circumstances ought we to  judge or reject them.  Without a doubt these seemingly unbelieving people will precede the vast majority of all believers unto the Kingdom of God.  If Thomas' unbelief had resulted from a profound materialism which reduces all truth to sensory evidence, then having been tangibly convinced of the fact of the resurrection, he might have invented some materialistic explanation for it.  He would hardly have exclaimed, "My Lord and my God!"  From the point of view of sensory evidence, the wounds from the nails and the pierced side could in no wise demonstrate Christ's divinity.  It is even clearer that Thomas' unbelief was not due to some moral bankruptcy or hostility to the truth.  The love of truth drew him to Christ and engendered in him a boundless devotion to the Teacher...Christ did not judge Thomas, but utilized the means which he demanded in order to convince him:  that is, He allowed him to put his fingers into the wounds from the nails..."

The Apostle Thomas is a symbol not of doubt but of confirmation.  His words, "unless I see in His hand the wounds from the nails, and put my hand in His side, I will not believe," do not suggest unbelief, much less materialism.  Christ's wounds are the proof of His resurrection.  In other words, you cannot understand the essence of Christ's resurrection through abstract reasoning alone, but only by communing  with Christ's wounds, with His sufferings...

The atheists use our fear of suffering to stifle our spirit, our free thoughts and feelings.  And they in turn frighten us.  We must overcome our fear of suffering.  Only then will we become really free, active and invincible.  Only then will we overcome the arguments against Christ's resurrection which the atheists use to coerce our minds:  the coercion of "proofs" which at first seem to free our minds but which in fact only fetter them.  Faith is the overcoming of all coercion of the mind.  It is the smashing of all obstacles and impediments set up as "proofs."  It is each person's free acceptance of Christ in his heart.  To believe in Christ's resurrection means to free your mind of doubts, to cleanse your heart from slavery to sins, to fortify your will against all coercion and weakness.  Faith is a breakthrough into eternity .  Unbelief is non-freedom in everything:  in mind, feelings and will...

But faith is not just given to man in an instant;  just like that. The gift of freedom is sent through the Cross, through sufferings.  Only then does freedom become real and understandable for man.  Thus, sufferings become the only reliable proof.  Thus, when Thomas wanted to place his fingers in Christ's wounds, he wanted to accept Christ's resurrection freely.  Christ's wounds and sufferings became for the Apostle, the proof of the Savior's resurrection.

But Christ's sufferings were not those of just any person of any era.  Christ our God became incarnate, He became a man, He was in man.  Christ stands for each man.  "I was sick and you did not visit Me, I was in prison and you did not come to Me," said Christ.  "Lord, when were you sick or in prison?" they ask Him.  "If you did so to this person, you did so to me," He answers.  "Depart from Me, workers of iniquity!"

Anyone who has not in some way tasted of sufferings has no right to talk about the resurrection.  It is blasphemous towards the resurrection for anyone who is afraid of sufferings or who runs away from them, to talk about Christ's resurrection.  Therefore, I repeat, I now simply ignore intellectual proofs. To endure, to experience sufferings -- or at least to do so through compassion for your neighbor -- this is the path of free faith in Christ's resurrection.  Let us make use of the Apostle Thomas' proof.  Let us thrust our fingers into Christ's wounds.  This will be the most reliable proof of the resurrection.

Remember that unfortunate Russian czar, that monster of the human race, Ivan the Terrible.  How much human blood he spilled!  How many executions!  What senseless crimes he committed!  He was even guilty of the death of the greatest Russian bishop,  Philip the Great Martyr.  But this monster, who was also a man of the greatest intelligence, would descend into the dungeon during the days of Pascha to visit the prisoners who were languishing in captivity.  Are we not worse than him, when we fail to extend a hand to those who suffer and are persecuted, when we do not cheer them up?

Let us descend.  Let us exchange the Paschal kiss and proclaim, "Christ is Risen!" to those whose graves are snow bound in the northern blizzards, whose bones are spread abroad all across our vast land, whose names people were afraid to mention out loud not long ago (i.e. the names of Russian martyrs and confessors for the Faith)...

We must say, "Christ is Risen!" to the students who have been expelled from the institutes because of their religious convictions, to those who have been fired from their jobs, oppressed or persecuted in any way.  So what if their faith is not yet real, or even if they still consider themselves unbelievers?  Faith will come to them, because Christ is with all those who suffer.  Christ's resurrection extends to all people, but those who suffer receive it first of all.  If in our love we kiss the clotted wounds of the crucified thief, even while he is still reviling Christ's Name, perhaps we will be helping him to believe in the risen Christ and be showing him the meaning of existence, in the resurrection from the dead.

We must not make Christ's resurrection into anyone's special privilege.  Christ suffered for all -- the righteous and the unrighteous -- in order to resurrect all.   Anyone who knows the truth of Christ's resurrection but hides it, who does not take it to people, is a criminal, whatever his faith.  The light of Christ's resurrection must illuminate all.  Just imagine that we possess the key to eternal happiness and all around us there are unhappy people who are perishing.  We could make these unhappy people happy if only we would use our key...

Everyone who knows the truth of Christ's resurrection, who returns from His empty tomb...should run like the myrrhbearing women and cry, "Christ is Risen!"  People, listen!  Christ's resurrection exists!  It is eternal joy for all of us...Can there be any joy greater than the Paschal joy?!  Let us now sing the Paschal stichera:

"Let God arise;  let His enemies be scattered."

"Today, a sacred Pascha is revealed to us, a new and holy Pascha, a mystical Pascha, a Pascha  worthy of veneration, a Pascha which is Christ, the Redeemer.  A blameless Pascha, a great Pascha, a Pascha of the faithful, a Pascha which opens to us the gates of Paradise, a Pascha which sanctifies all the faithful."

Reflection on Annunciation

The Annunciation

March 25

Protopresbyter Alexander Schmemann

     (The following is one of a multitude of sermons delivered by Fr. Schmemann, in Russian, over Radio Liberty.  It is addressed to a largely unchurched audience, living under Communism, at a time when one's faith in Christ was challenged each day by the surrounding society. While referencing contemporary atheistic thinking, Fr. Alexander's words convey the beauty and joy of the Annunciation, celebrated by Christians on March 25.)

The Annunciation!  At one time this was one of the brightest and most joyful days of the year, the feast which consciously, and even unconsciously, was connected with a jubilant intuition, a radiant vision of the world and of life.  The Gospel of St. Luke records the story of the Annunciation.  (Please see Luke 1: 26-38).

Of course, viewed from the perspective of so-called "scientific" atheism this Gospel story supplies plenty of reasons for speaking of "myths and legends."  The rationalist will say, "When do angels ever appear to young women and hold conversations with them?  Do believers really think that people of the twentieth century, living in a technological civilization, could believe this?  Can't believers see just how silly, unscientific and impossible this is?"  The believer always has only one answer to this kind of contentious debate, disparagement and ridicule: yes, alas, it is impossible to fit this into your shallow worldview.  As long as your arguments about God and religion remain on the superficial level of chemical experiments and mathematical formulas you will always easily win.  But chemistry and mathematics are of no help whatsoever in proving or disproving anything at all in the realm of God and religion.  In the language of your science, the words angel, glad tidings, joy and humility are of course completely meaningless.  But why limit the discussion to religion?  More than half of all words are incomprehensible to your rationalist language, and therefore in addition to religion you will have to suppress all poetry, literature, philosophy and virtually the whole of human imagination.  You desire the entire world to think as you do, in terms of production and economic forces, of collectives and programs.  Yet the world does not naturally think in this way and must be handcuffed and forced to do so, or rather, appear to do so.  You say that all imagination is false because the "imaginary" does not exist, and yet the imagination is what people have always lived by, live by now, and will in the future as well.  For everything most profound and most essential in life has always been expressed in the language of imagination.  I don't pretend to understand what an angel is, nor, using the limited language of rationalism, can I explain the event that occurred almost two thousand years ago in a tiny Galilean town.  But it strikes me that mankind has never forgotten this story, that these few verses have repeatedly been incorporated into countless paintings, poems and prayers, and that they have inspired and continued to inspire.  This means, of course, that people heard something infinitely important to them in these words, some truth which apparently could be expressed in no other way than in the childish, joyful language of Luke's Gospel.  What is this truth?  What happened when the young woman, barely past childhood, suddenly heard -- from what profound depth, from what transcendent height! -- that wonderful greeting:  "Rejoice!"  For that is indeed the angel's message to Mary:  Rejoice!

The world is filled with countless books on struggle and competition, each attempting to show that the road to happiness is hatred, and in none of them will you find the word "joy."  People don't even know what the word means.  But the very same joy announced by the angel remains a pulsating force, that still has power to startle and shake the human hearts.  Go into a church on the eve of Annunciation.  Stay, wait through the long service as it slowly unfolds.  Then the moment comes when after the long wait, softly, with such divinely exquisite beauty the choir begins to sing the familiar festal hymn, "With the voice of the Archangel, we cry to You, O Pure One:  Rejoice, O Full of Grace, the Lord is with You!"  Hundreds and hundreds of years have gone by, and still, as we hear this invitation to rejoice, joy fills our heart in a wave of warmth.  But what is this joy about?  Above all we rejoice in the very presence of this woman herself, whose face, whose image, is known throughout the world, who gazes upon us from icons, and who became one of the most sublime and purest figures of art and human imagination.  We rejoice in her response to the angel, to her faithfulness, purity, wholeness, to her total self-giving and boundless humility, all of which forever ring out in her words:  "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord;  let it be to me according to your word."  Tell me, is anything in this world, in any of its rich and complex history, more sublime and more beautiful than this one human being?  Mary, the Most Pure One, the One who is full of grace, is truly the One in whom, as the Church sings, "all Creation rejoices."  The Church answers the lie about man, the lie that reduces him to earth and appetite, to baseness and brutality, the lie that says he is permanently enslaved to the immutable and impersonal laws of nature, by pointing to the image of Mary, the most-pure Mother of God, the One to whom, in the words of a Russian poet, "the outpouring of sweetest human tears from overflowing hearts"  is offered in unending stream.  The lie continues to pervade the world, but we rejoice because here, in the image of Mary, the lie is shown for what it is.  We rejoice with delight and wonder, for this image is always with us as comfort and encouragement, as inspiration and help.  We rejoice because in gazing at this image, it is so easy to believe in the heavenly beauty of this world and in man's heavenly, transcendent calling.  The joy of Annunciation is about the angel's glad tidings, that the people had found grace with God and that soon, very soon, through her, through this totally unknown Galilean woman, God would begin to fulfill the mystery of the world's redemption.  There would be no thunder and no fear in His presence, but He would come to her in the joy and fullness of childhood.   Through her a Child will now be King:  a Child, weak, defenseless, yet though Him all the powers of evil are to be forever stripped of power.

This is what we celebrate on the Annunciation and why the feast has always been, and remains, so joyful and radiant.  But I repeat, none of this can be understood or expressed in the limited categories and language familiar to "scientific" atheism, which leads us to conclude that this approach willfully and arbitrarily has declared an entire dimension of human experience to be non-existent, unnecessary and dangerous, along with all the words and concepts used to express that experience.  To debate this approach strictly on its own terms would be like first climbing down into a black underground pit where, because the sky can't be seen, its existence is denied.  The sun can't be seen, and so there is no sun.  All is dirty, repulsive, and dark, and so beauty is unknown and its existence denied.  It is a place where joy is impossible, and so everyone is hostile and sad.  But if you leave the pit and climb out, you suddenly find yourself in the midst of a resoundingly joyful church where once again you hear, "With the voice of the Archangel, we cry to You, O Pure One:  Rejoice!"

(From, "Celebration of Faith:  Volume 3, The Virgin Mary," published by Saint Vladimir Seminary Press.)

Arise, Your Sins Are Forgiven You

Arise, Your Sins Are Forgiven You

+ Fr. Alexander Men

(The following is a sermon delivered on the Sunday of St. Gregory of Palamas, the second Sunday of the Fast.  The homilist, Fr. Alexander Men (1935 -1990), was an architect of religious renewal in Russia at the end of the Soviet period.  A remarkable leader and prolific author he was assassinated in 1990.  Through his writings, through his memory and his spiritual heritage, however, he still speaks, and it may be he is an increasing presence in the world as his work becomes better known." Edited excerpts from an introduction by Bishop Seraphim Sigrist).

On the Second Sunday of Lent (this year March 16), the Church opens to us a page of the Gospel that we all know well, about the healing of the man sick of the palsy (Mark 2: 1-2).  The man sick of the palsy was paralyzed, lying like one dead, and others carried him to the Lord. From the Holy Scriptures we remember that four men were carrying the sick man on a stretcher, but when they arrived at the house where the Savior was, they could not get inside because the crowd was so dense.  They tried to get in through the door but could not.  Nevertheless they did not give up.  They climbed up on the roof, taking the stretcher with them;  they took the roof apart and let down the stretcher into the room.  Jesus, seeing their faith, said to the paralyzed man, "Rise, your sins are forgiven you."

Have you ever thought what kind of people they were; those who carried the stretcher?  After all, it doesn't say that they were relatives, or the sick man's children, mother, father or brothers.  Apparently they were simply friends, possibly neighbors.  They made the effort for the sick man's sake, not their own.  Not everyone would have climbed onto someone else's roof, taken it apart and let the stretcher down on ropes.  It was probably awkward and difficult, but they wanted at all costs to get through to where the Lord was.  And He saw their faith in their efforts and exertions.  The main thing He saw in them, of course, was their love for this man.  They had taken a lot of trouble on his behalf, expecting and believing that he would be healed;  that the Lord Jesus could save this man who was lying there like a living corpse.

Reading these pages, I thought about the way things happen in our lives.  I remember someone who was also paralyzed;  you all know who I mean.  He had a son and other relatives, but no one gave him any help.  He used to lie there like a piece of rubbish, like a corpse or worse.  Such things happen often in our life here.  Not always in so dreadful, mean and humiliating a manner, such as when a son cares nothing for his own mother;  often it is less obvious.  Hearts can be cold, uncaring and insensitive.  But these men we read about in the Bible were quite different.  They wanted this man to be healed so much, that was as if they themselves were ill and longed to rise from their sickbeds.

So, my dear friends, we have before us a great example for Lent.  What kind of example?  That we can be saved and find the Lord in our lives only together, by helping each other, loving and forgiving, stretching out a helping hand.  If that is how we try and live, God's hand, Christ's hand will be stretched out to us in response.  That is because, at the same time that He is saving us from the abyss, He wants us to help each other.  When we cannot help outwardly, through action, we can help through prayer.  So our daily prayers for each other should not be just a list of names.  But when you yourselves pray for your relations and friends, for people close to you and for those in need, pray properly, with the same kind of persistence as the relations or friends of that paralyzed man used to try and get into the house, to reach the Lord.

There will be obstacles;  you know what they are:  our laziness, weariness and weakness.  How difficult it all is!  We feel as if we were carrying heavy boulders, rather than praying.  But at the moment when you find it difficult to pray for those close to you, remember that it was probably not very easy to haul the stretcher with the paralyzed man in it, onto the roof.  Those men were rewarded however: Jesus saw their faith.  And if you and I overcome our inertia, He will see our faith, so that in the end we shall overcome all obstacles.  The Lord tells us, "Knock and it shall be opened unto you," so be persistent in prayer.

Do we not all know how confused and weak people are, how everyday matters endlessly distract us and fill our thoughts and emotions?  It's funny to think that we allow these same matters, silly trifles that we won't even remember the day after tomorrow, to fill our short lives which, you would think, we would treasure above all else.  All this cuts us off from our Lord, shutting us off from heaven and choking off prayer, like smoke from a funnel rising and obscuring the light from the sun.  And what is smoke?  It is made up of tiny black particles.  In just the same way, our sins and restlessness rise and obscure everything like smoke, so that our life ceases to be Christian and becomes vain and pointless.

Only a search for the Lord, a longing to touch Christ the healer, can give us victory.  It is Lent now and we are trying to pray more and practice abstention more often.  A small abstention from food is a tiny, microscopic offering to God.  Let us try to pull ourselves together spiritually and this time let us offer the Lord a prayer for each other, not for ourselves, not for our own health, salvation or well being, but for our sisters and brothers, for those who are dear to our hearts:  offer the Lord a prayer for them today, as the Gospel teaches us.  Pray for them, that their way may be blessed, that the Lord may keep them and come to meet them;  then all of us will ascend towards the Lord, as if holding on to that prayer.  This is the main thing;  the rest will follow, but this is essential to our lives.  Then Jesus, seeing our faith, will say to all those for whom we have been praying, and to us, for whom they have been praying:  "My child, awake from your sleep and your sickness, from your palsy, your spiritual paralysis;  arise, your sins are forgiven you."

Do Politics Become the Christian?

Do Politics Become the Christian?

Fr. Stanley (Spyridon) Harakas

(With February's Bulletin we continue our offering of monthly articles on Contemporary Moral  Issues.  Some will derive from a book of the same title -- "Contemporary Moral Issues -- authored by Fr. Stanley Harakas, printed in 1982 by Light and Life Publishing.  Fr.  Harakas is a priest of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America,  a distinguished teacher of Orthodox theology, and a significant resource in Orthodox ethics. He served as Dean of Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology and Hellenic College from 1966 until retirement in 1995. The following is edited for space.)

"Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's" is a teaching of Christ.  From one perspective it means at least that Christ saw the Church as something very different from the State and its methods.

Yet, "Render unto Caesar, that which is Caesar's" is also a command.  It seems to imply that there is a responsibility to be exercised toward the State, by the Church, too.  How is this to be explained?

While we can think of the Church as official, we also know that the Church is the body of the believers who have been baptized in the Name of the Holy Trinity and who live the sacramental life.  When we think of it that way, every Christian helps make up the Church and few of us would agree that it is right for the whole body of the faithful to stay out of politics... The reason for this is that we do have a duty to "render unto Caesar, that which is Caesar's."

Christian Citizenship: Politics is not only voting for candidates for public office.  The ancient Greeks understood politics as the art of governing.  In a democracy that means that the people share in the governing process.  And that means that Christians are of necessity involved in politics.  This is the point.  Should the Christians who make up the Church help govern the city and country and state and nation in which they live?  Or to put it in other words, is there such a thing as Christian citizenship?

Well, the early Christians certainly acted as if there was.  The first thing they did was to make sure that they obeyed the laws.  The New Testament  makes a point of that.  They also took advantage of the protection provided by "due process."  Saint Paul appealed to the Emperor as a Roman citizen when he felt he had an unfair trial.  The early Christian writers, known as the Apologists, wrote letters to the Emperor to express their views on what they felt was an unjust law (the persecution of Christians).

Later on in the Church's history, countless patriarchs, bishops, clergy and laypersons worked in the political system of Byzantium for laws which embodied Christian values.  For example, laws regarding the status of women, the protection of infants and children, the improvement of the condition of slaves, and the treatment of the poor, became concerns of the Church.

Involvement Necessary for Christians: In a democracy such as ours, Orthodox Christians are called upon to continue that tradition.  Individual Orthodox Christians will study the issues, examine the records of candidates and vote regularly.  Some will be convinced that they should support the campaigns of some candidates.  Others will run for public office themselves.

The important thing is that we participate in the political enterprise as Christians, as members of the Church.  And lest I be misunderstood, let me add that Christians "should not" become involved in politics for self-serving purposes, but in order to serve justice, to enhance citizenship, to do good works before all people and on behalf of all people.  If, as some say, "politics is a dirty business," then Christians will seek to clean it up and to help it fulfill its real purpose.  (Here it is noteworthy that Orthodox clergy do not typically run for any public office due in part to the ambiguous nature of politics.)

The Church is properly involved in politics when her members participate in the electoral process, write letters of Christian opinion to their elected representatives, join a political party, express their Christian opinion in the public forum and work in groups seeking to improve the condition of public life.  Further, they are involved in politics when they pray daily and on Sundays, as we do in the Divine Liturgy, for the civil rulers of our nation, for peace, for the cities in which we live, etc.

In answer to the title question, "Do Politics Become the Christian?" the response is plain.  In a society such as ours, in order to render unto Caesar that which is his, Orthodox Christians necessarily will be involved in politics.  Being involved in politics is part of what it means to be a Christian.

Lord, When Did We See You Needy or Suffering?

Lord, When Did We See You Needy or Suffering?

+ Fr. Alexander Men

("Father Alexander Men (1935-1990) was a great leader, and one may say architect, of religious renewal in Russia at the end of the Soviet period.  He was a pastor, who found the time to write a great number of books including a seven volume study of world religions, ranging in style from the academic to the popular;  he lectured widely, at the end gaining access to radio and television and becoming a nationally known figure.  He founded the first Sunday school after the communist persecution, established a university, made a film strip, started volunteer work at a children's hospital.  He baptized thousands into the faith, was at home with simple people but was also called “the apostle to the intellectuals.”

His life and person and writings speak powerfully to a wide range of people, not only in Russia and not only Eastern Orthodox.  It seems that he is one of the very few who can touch and speak to and for all Christians and indeed, through his broadness of learning and heart, not only to Christians. (In this sense, Bishop Seraphim likens Fr. Men to a Russian C.S. Lewis.)

He was assassinated in 1990 but through his writings, through his memory and his spiritual heritage, he still speaks, and it may be he is an increasing presence in the world as his work becomes better known." (From an introduction by Bishop Seraphim Joseph Sigrist)).

The following is a sermon by Fr. Men on the Last Judgment.  The Parable will be read in Church on Sunday, February 23 of this year, in preparation for the start of Great Lent.

"Nowadays people often say that our world is fragile and could easily perish;  perhaps that is what will happen and you and I will witness the end of the world.  The forces of nature, which the Lord created, are surely blind forces, indifferent to good or evil.  If they are allowed to get out of control, they could sweep away all living things.  Before life or mankind appeared, these elemental forces had already come into being.  They have no pity.  When lava flows down a hill, it can crush a village or a town, together with their people and the buildings those people have constructed so diligently and over such a long period.  A hurricane, as it comes in from the sea, can destroy hundreds and thousands of lives.

Living creatures are not like that.  Hunters have often seen how a mother wolf will sacrifice her own life to save her cubs, how animals will fight an unequal battle with birds of prey in defense of their young.  Wild animals can experience fear, joy, love and gratitude;  they are not without feeling.  Of course, their feelings are not comparable to those of human beings, but all the same we know that living creatures are capable of helping each other. When a fire rages in the taiga, all creatures try to save themselves and at such a time the wolf will run beside the deer without touching it.

There are many examples of animals and plants helping each other.  However, you and I are human beings and the greatest sin against human self-respect is indifference;  when we become like the elements -- like cold rock, a devouring fire or dangerous water.  This is degrading for man, who is created not only with the power of reason, but also with emotions and feelings, enabling him to share the sufferings of other men.

The Lord tells us a Parable about how each one of us will be judged.  By what criterion, by what sign, does the King of Heaven divide all men into sheep and goats, as a shepherd divides a flock?  What is His accusation against those whom He places on the left hand?  It is that they were indifferent:  "You saw me sick and did not visit Me, hungry and did not feed Me, you saw me suffering and did not help Me."  But to those standing on His right hand, He says, "Come, ye blessed of My Father, for you comforted and helped Me."  And both the first and the second say, "Lord, when did we see You needy or suffering?"  He replies to them, "Whatever you did or did not do for the least of My brethren, that is, your own brothers and sisters, you did or did not do for Me."  That is the basic law of Gospel life.

Note that the Lord says that the Judge assembles before Himself all nations and languages, which must include pagans and unbelievers, but each of us knows this law in his conscience.  Each believer should understand that, if he remains indifferent in the face of evil and suffering, he thereby betrays his Lord.  Those who do not know God would feel that they were betraying themselves, their consciences, or some higher truth -- which shows that this is a universal law.

The Lord tells us, "It's not enough just to utter the words:  "love,"  "goodness," and "kindness."  Love must be active, it must be made manifest in life itself."  The Apostle Paul also says that the most important thing in our life is faith, which works through love -- note that it works actively.  It is not indifferent.  In the Parable of the Good Samaritan, the priest and the Levite who were walking along the road and saw a wounded man lying on the ground were certainly believers in God, but they were uncaring men.  They looked at the man who was calling for help and walked past without helping him.  It is this kind of indifference that the Lord condemns, while He blesses the heart that responds to other people -- that is the whole law of the Gospel.

So let us ask the Lord to give us strength;  to put His divine seal on our hearts, so that we may not become indifferent, like water or rocks;  so that we may be living people, responding to the sufferings and needs of those around us.

And there is something else.  In the Parable, people are divided into sheep and goats.  But in all of us can be found the two contrasting aspects -- generous and indifferent.  So division and conflict are going on in the same human heart.  May the principle that is victorious in us be the bright, good and loving one, so that we may hear the voice of our Lord:  "Come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundations of the world.""

The Gate of the Year

The Gate of the Year

 + Metropolitan Anthony Bloom

     (Although Metropolitan Bloom makes comments that apparently refer to specific and contemporary events, his thoughts are most appropriate for us to dwell on, at the start of the New Year).

     Before we pray, I should like to introduce our prayers so that when we pray, we do it more effectively, with one mind and with one heart.  Year after year I have spoken of the New Year that was coming, in terms of a plain covered with snow, unspoiled, pure, and I called our attention to the fact that we must tread responsibly on this expanse of whiteness still unspoiled, because according to the way in which we tread, there will be (either) a road cutting through the plain following the will of God, or wandering steps that will only soil the whiteness of the snow. But a thing that we cannot and must not forget -- this year perhaps more than on many previous occasions -- is that, surrounding, covering this whiteness as with a dome, there is darkness, a darkness with few or many stars, but a darkness (that is) dense, opaque, dangerous and frightening.  We come out of a year when darkness has been perceived by all of us, when violence and cruelty are still rife.

How shall we meet it?  It would be naive, and it would be very unchristian, to ask God to shield us against it, to make of the Church a haven of peace while around us there is no peace. There is strife, there is tension, there is discouragement, there are fears, there is violence, there is murder.  We cannot ask for peace for ourselves if this peace does not extend beyond the Church, does not come as rays of light to dispel the darkness. One Western spiritual writer has said that the Christian is one to whom God has committed responsibility for all other men, and this responsibility we must be prepared to discharge.  In a few moments we will entreat for both the unknown and the darkness, the greatest blessing which is pronounced in our liturgical services,'Blessed is the Kingdom of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit' - blessed in the kingship of God.

These words are spoken rarely:  at the beginning of services, at the outset of the Liturgy, as a blessing upon the New Year, and at moments when eternity and time unite, when with the eyes of faith we can see eternity intertwined with time, and conquering.  The Christian is one who must be capable of seeing history as God sees it, as a mystery of salvation but also as a tragedy of human fallenness and sin.  And with regard to both we must take our stand. Christ says in the Gospel, ‘When you will hear of wars and rumors of wars, be ye not troubled.’ Lift up your heads, there is no space in the heart and in the life of the Christian for cowardice, faintheartedness and fear, which are all born of selfishness, concern for self, even if it extends to those whom we love. God is the Lord of history, but we must be co-workers with God, and we are sent by Him into this world in order to make the discordant city of men, into the harmony which will be called the city of God.

And we must remember the words of the Apostle who says, whoever will wish to work for the Lord will be led into trial;  and the words of another Apostle who tells us not to be afraid of trial by fire.  In the present world we must be prepared, ready for trials and ready to stand, perhaps with fear in our heart for lack of faith, but unshaken in the service of God and the service of men.

And when we look back at the past year the words of the litany hit us and accuse us. We ask God to forgive us all that we have done, or left undone, in the past year.  We claim to be Orthodox.  To be Orthodox does not mean only to confess the Gospel in its integrity and proclaim it in its purity, but it consists, even more than this, in living according to the Gospel; and we know that Christ comes to no compromise with anything but the greatness of man and the message of love and worship.  We can indeed repent because who, looking at us, would say as people said about the early Christians, 'See how they love one another!' Who would say, looking at us, that we are in possession of an understanding of life, of a love, which makes us beyond compare, which causes everyone to wonder: Where does it come from?  Who gave it to them?  How can they stand the test of trial?  And if we want this year to be worthy of God, of our Christian calling, of the holy name of Orthodoxy, we must singly and as a body become to all, to each person who may need us, a vision of what man can be and what a community of men can be under God.

Let us pray for forgiveness, we who are so far below our calling.  Let us pray for fortitude, for courage, for determination to discount ourselves, to take up our cross, to follow in the footsteps of Christ whithersoever He will call us.

At the beginning of the war King George VI spoke words which can be repeated from year to year. In his message to the Nation he read a quotation: “‘I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown,’ and he replied:  ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand in the hand of God; that shall be better to you than light, and safer than a known way.’”

This is what we are called to do, and perhaps we should make today a resolution, determined to be faithful to our calling and begin the New Year with courage.  Amen.

Fr. Schmemann, 30th Anniversary

Contextual and Pastoral

an Essay on the 30th Anniversary of the Repose of

Protopresbyter Alexander Schmemann

13 December 2013

 

Archpriest Michael Oleksa

As I consider not the details but the broad framework within which our beloved teacher, Father Alexander Schmemann lived, taught, wrote and lectured, I realize that he shared, with all the ancient Holy Fathers of the ancient Church, an approach, a vision, an experience of God, of Christ, of the Christian Faith and the life of the Church that was essentially contextual and pastoral.  I hope to explore briefly these two themes in this essay which I write today in his memory.

Father Alexander is often misunderstood and even maligned today as an "innovator" or "modernist" as if he were trying to change and violate the spirit of the Orthodox Tradition according to his personal tastes or prejudices. But anyone who knew him also recognized how fundamentally "conservative" he was.  While his academic and theological interests were essentially historical, he saw history as providing a wider context in which to understand and address contemporary issues.  History, for Father Alexander, is the continuing story, the next chapter for which we are now responsible, while remaining faithful to all that has gone before.  Precisely because of the depth of his historical understanding of the Church and her many struggles, he was able to draw on two thousand years of experience to highlight whatever was pastorally appropriate to the problems of 20th century America. He did not see the liturgical practices of any one era as determinative for all times and places but sought to understand the evolution of the liturgy over the centuries so as to apply what was best and most useful from this heritage to the pastoral concerns of today. His vision and criteria were absolutely pastoral, and one might add in North America, missiological as well.

With his broad knowledge of Church history and the history of liturgy, Father Alexander sought to examine and highlight those practices, authentically Orthodox, from whatever time or place, from any epoch or ethnic tradition that might help better to convey the Orthodox Tradition, the spiritual treasures of the ancient Church, to modern North Americans, both "cradle" Orthodox and potential as well as actual converts.  Applying this approach to the celebration of divine services, he recommended the extensive use of English, at a time when the vast majority of immigrant communities were still worshipping in their ancestral languages--rendering Orthodox worship unintelligible to any visitors or seekers who might attend a service.  If the Church is in North America for all the people of this continent, Father Alexander would argue, then it must be accessible to them. This may not be true for many jurisdictions who define their mission as preserving an ancestral Faith in tact, in the same condition as they remember it in their homeland, somewhere else. But if the Orthodox Church in America remains true to its own history,  as a mission to America for Americans (who were originally the indigenous tribes of Alaska) then it must translate and teach in the local language, continue an outreach to the local community, and focus on its situation, its needs, its heritage, its culture.  This was the genius of the Alaskan missionary saints who learned the various languages, developed writing systems for them, produced translations and opened schools, training an indigenous clergy to lead the Church in the first half-century of its existence.  The Church, as a mission, must adapt to the context into which it is sent.

But this is exactly what the Church has done through the centuries. What else was the adaptation of the Greek language necessary in the first centuries of Christianity? Why else did the Church spend seven centuries, struggling to find language adequate to God, adequate to her message, re-defining and virtually re-inventing Greek terms, bending them to the meaning the Church required to articulate and explain the Gospel to a Greek-speaking intelligentsia?  Every controversy that the Church entered, every heresy she confronted, arose from within the Greco-Roman classical worldview, a culture that radically separated the physical and spiritual worlds, making the incarnation of the Word of God "folly" to the Greeks. Christianity contradicted this basic axiomatic belief that the earthly, physical, material world was perishable and unimportant, while the heavenly, spiritual, intellectual world was eternal and of supreme value. Every heresy that arose during these centuries sought to "explain" Christ by minimizing either His humanity or His divinity and preserve the basic division between the the Spiritual and Material realms.  All Patristic theology, all the debates and intellectual struggles in which Christian thinkers engaged during the Age of the Councils, erupted in this cultural context, and the Fathers composed their theological response not as philosophical speculation, but precisely as a pastoral necessity within this context. The Fathers were pastoral and contextual.

Liturgy adapted to the pastoral needs of each culture as well.  One could write the history of the Orthodox Church precisely in these terms. "The Church," Father Alexander used to say, "always changes to remain the Same." Problems arose when later generations began approaching, understanding and explaining the writings and canons of the ancient church in an essentially fundamentalist way.  In other words, the text dictates the solution to the problem: whatever is written must be true, and preserved in tact, forever.  The difficulty with this approach is that it is fundamentally flawed. The Fathers never cited proof texts alone but were free to redefine and even invent new terms to meet the pastoral needs, which were always central to their thinking.  Why worry about the difference between homoousios and homoiousios, one iota different? Because the very essence of "salvation" was at stake. But whose salvation?  The salvation of Christians, the salvation of the world!  The ancient church debated these issues for decades until, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the Fathers could announce, as the Holy Apostles had done in the beginning, "It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us…" having arrived at a unanimous consensus on a particular issue.  These arguments often lasted for years, with conflicting and contradictory conclusions, the discussions becoming rather heated and even violent at times. But when the Truth is finally articulated, it becomes self-evident. It requires no further discussion or "proof." The Truth is what it is.

There is no external, or rather no empirical criterion, no guarantor of truth, either in the person of an infallible Pope, nor in the letter of Scripture.  We know the Truth when we encounter it. After this, we struggle to articulate  it as best we can in human language. The Church never has sought to define it, but has only sought to draw some boundaries, some perameters around the Truth so as to exclude certain distortions or misconceptions about it.  God cannot be defined or reduced to a philosophy or system.  A God who could be so comprehended by human thought would not be God but an idol. Anyone who claims to have figured God out has fallen into grave and dangerous delusion. "Never assume a rational universe!" was one of Father Alexander's memorable warnings.

If our focus in North America is to be pastoral and contextual, we need to know what our context--21st century Western Civilization--is. Then we need to know thoroughly our Faith Tradition. And finally our "mission" is to apply the Orthodox Vision, to articulate it and celebrate it in a way that communicates the Eternal Truths of our Faith, to these people at this time and this place.  Once we accept the pastoral imperative of our mission in this context, certain adjustments become reasonable and even necessary.

For example, if we accept the pastoral and contextual criteria, how should we best celebrate the Divine Liturgy? Should the Royal Doors (as in modern Russian practice) remain shut? Should the mystical prayers that render the Anaphora intelligible be read silently? Should we insist on worshipping in unintelligible languages? Should we refrain from any lengthy or meaningful preaching? Should we discourage the Faithful from participating in the Holy Mysteries except perhaps a few times a year?

Or should we rather allow the Royal Doors to remain open through all or most of the celebration? Should we read or chant the prayers aloud so that all may prayerfully participate? Should we use the language of the community in which we live? Should we explain our faith in thoughtful, well-articulated and challenging sermons? Should we encourage the Faithful to join in the celebration, singing, praying and participating in the Eucharistic banquet?

Father Alexander encouraged the latter, not because he was trying to stir up trouble, not because he enjoyed being an "innovator" or because he was a "modernist," but because he was essentially a pastor concerned for the salvation of the people of this continent, this society. He was a contextualist, which means he was essentially Traditional, in the best Orthodox sense of the word, and not a fundamentalist,  focused on a fixed text (as the ultimate criterion) and an attitude alien to the authentic Orthodox Tradition, alien to the mind of the Fathers.

His concerns extended to the language of translation.  The original poetic masterpieces of Byzantine hymnography often do not translate well into modern English. The particular "genius" of the English language is its concision, its focus on expressing, in a minimum number of words, a concept with clarity and precision, while the medieval and ancient Greek texts may come across as clumsy, wordy and even unintelligible. Once again applying the missiological and pastoral criteria, "accurate" "word-for-word" translations often fall short of the goal.

Returning to Elizabethan English in no way guarantees pastoral or missiological "success." In fact, literal translations usually fail in this regard. To be open and accepting of all who attend, isn't it time to make the language of our services more inclusive, rather than give the impression that men have any priority over women? Our latest translations return to an archaic use of the word man that is at least controversial if not insultng to women--and inaccurate. The original Greek pronouns were inclusive of both sexes and perhaps in centuries past, the world "man" could be interpreted to mean both men and women, But this is no longer true in modern English usage. Should not the Church take this into account. Context demands another approach to liturgical translations.

Idealizing a particular usage or translation does not solve the problem. The most recent translations, published by the OCA and others, in fact represent a fundamentalist return to a word-for-word approach that abandons the grammatical and syntactical norms of 20th century English. Why omit the "let us ask of the Lord" endings to petitions in the Liturgy because the phrase is absent in a Greek or Russian original, when doing so makes no sense in English? Why shift the texts of the mystical prayers in the published texts, where they were placed for pastoral and missiological reasons in the earlier 1967 publication, to the middle of litanies, where they cannot logically be read? Why drop the words "and love" as the chalice is brought forth because the modern Russian text does not have it, (but the modern Greek text does)? Is there a foreign criterion to the "correct" usage, or are we free, within the context of our own culture, to determine what is appropriate and necessary for our pastoral and missiological needs, here, in this country.  Can there be a foreign--from another time and place--"right" way of doing things, or are we not required, in the pastoral spirit of the ancient Fathers, to determine how best to address our needs in this country?

Certainly a fundamentalist approach is simpler. We are relieved of any responsibility to think about or reflect upon what we are doing and why we are doing it. But in that case, the Church does not need human pastors and teachers. A computer can do the job!  Or are we afraid to adjust to our context, afraid we might "get it wrong"? It seems to me, in the spirit of Father Schmemann that the only way to "get it wrong" is to forget where we are and why we are here. We have been, since the arrival of the Valaam mission in 1794, to bring the Truth to Americans in America, not to replicate or transplant an alien faith and nurture it in a foreign land.

Father Alexander loved America. He was dismayed at the way some students rejected and condemned "the West," knowing that you cannot teach, you cannot authentically bless, you cannot "save" what you do not love. Far from criticizing everything "Western" as in itself deficient, Father Alexander encouraged his students to appreciate and rejoice in whatever was good, wholesome, inspiring or beautiful in any culture, in any place, including the wonders of nearby Manhatten.  If we are truly patristic and Traditonal, we must be pastoral and contextual. That was Father Alexander's vision, faithful to the Holy Fathers while rejecting any fundamentalist approach to the creative and challenging task before us: to bring Orthodoxy to North America, not by copying or idealizing any former expression of the Faith, but by drawing on all that is beautiful, true and indeed eternal in it, and applying that, courageously to the pastoral needs of North America today.

Perhaps some of his students became archeologists rather than pastors, thinking that if some practice had been abandoned centuries before, it was now their duty to restore it. But the antiquity of a given practice was never Father Alexander's concern or agenda.  If he encouraged a return to certain usages,  his perspective was always pastoral and missiological.  In this he was fundamentally contextual and therefore traditional, following the pattern established by the ancient patristic tradition.  He did not write theology as an exercise in philosophical speculation, but as a pastor seeking to make the Truth known and comprehensible to people living in a new century on a new continent.

Let us now, on the thirtieth anniversary of his repose, renew our commitment to his vision, the Traditional vision of the Orthodox Church, according to the example of the Holy Fathers of the ancient Church, and in the context of this culture, this society, strive to articulate, proclaim and celebrate our Faith so that the Truth of Christ, the Truth of the Gospel, the Truth, the Reality, the Beauty and Glory of His Kingdom might be known, accepted and embraced by the people of this land, for their salvation and the salvation of the world.  Let us not fear to revive some ancient practices if they meet the needs of our mission in this challenging situation, but let us not experiment needless and foolishly either, trying to introduce change where pastorally and/or missiologically, none can be justified. Father Alexander would have cautioned us all against such inappropriate and potentially divisive tactics!

And let all of us who were blessed to know Father Alexander, on this anniversary of his falling-asleep, commend his soul, and ourselves and each other and all our life to Christ, our God.

Christ is Born!

Christ is Born!

(Implications of God's Incarnation)

Metropolitan Kallistos Ware

The Incarnation (God made Man)...is God's supreme act of deliverance, restoring us to communion with Himself.  But what would have happened if there had never been a fall (of man)?  Would God have chosen to become man, even if man had never sinned?  Should the Incarnation be regarded simply as God's response to the predicament of fallen man, or is it in some way part of the eternal purpose of God?  Should we look behind the fall, and see God's act of becoming man as the fulfillment of man's true destiny?

To this hypothetical question it is not possible for us, in our present situation, to give any final answer.  Living as we do under the conditions of the fall, we cannot clearly imagine what God's relation to mankind would have been, had the fall never occurred.  Christian writers have therefore in most cases limited their discussion of the Incarnation to the context of man's fallen state.

But there are a few who have ventured to take a wider view, most notably St. Isaac the Syrian and St. Maximus the Confessor in the East, and Duns Scotus in the West.  The Incarnation, says St. Isaac, is the most blessed and joyful thing that could possibly have happened to the human race.  Can it be right then, to assign as cause for this joyful happening something which might never have occurred, and indeed ought never to have done so?  Surely St. Isaac urges, God's taking of our humanity is to be understood not only as an act of restoration, not only as a response to man's sin, but also and more fundamentally as an act of love, an expression of God's own nature.  Even had there been no fall, God in His own limitless, outgoing love, would still have chosen to identify Himself with His creation by becoming man.

The Incarnation of Christ, looked at in this way, effects more than a reversal of the fall, more than a restoration of man to his original state in Paradise.  When God becomes man, this marks the beginning of an essentially new stage in the history of man, and not just a return to the past.  The Incarnation raises man to a new level;  the last state is higher than the first.  Only in Jesus Christ do we see revealed the full possibilities of our human nature;  until He is born, the true implications of our personhood are still hidden from us.  Christ's birth, as St. Basil put it, is "the birthday of the whole human race,"  Christ is the first perfect man:  perfect, that is to say, not just in a potential sense -- as Adam was in his innocence before the fall -- but in the sense of the completely realized "likeness."

The Incarnation, then, is not simply a way of undoing the effects of original sin, but it is an essential stage upon man's journey from the divine image to the divine likeness.  The true image and likeness of God is Christ Himself;  and so, from the very first moment of man's creation in the image, the Incarnation of Christ was in some way already implied.  The true reason for the Incarnation, then, lies not in man's sinfulness, but in his unfallen nature as a being, made in the divine image and capable of union with God (The Orthodox Way, pp. 70-71).

Motivated by Fear

Motivated by Fear

Fr. Basil Zebrun

Following His Resurrection Jesus said to the apostles, "peace be unto you" (John 20: 19,21,26).  Furthermore, He distinguishes the peace He bestows from that which is given by the world (John 14: 27).   St. Paul describes it as, "...the peace of God which passes all understanding" (Philippians 4:7).  Christians experience this peace as not merely the absence of fear or strife, but the presence of Christ in the lives of the faithful.

Additionally, during a storm at sea Jesus offered His disciples these words of comfort, "fear not" (Matthew 14:27, Mark 6:50, John 6:20), and prior to raising Jairus' daughter from the dead He said to the father, "Do not be afraid" (Mark 5:36).  At the Annunciation and at the announcement of the Baptist's conception, the angel also reassured both Mary and Zacharias that there was no need for trepidation (Luke 1).

The statements, "peace be unto you" and "fear not," were meant to allay the personal anxieties of those whose lives were radically changed by divine grace, freely received.

Christ's words of peace are repeated at each liturgical service in the Orthodox Church.  On occasion one is tempted to say that "fear not," should be added as well.  Our society in general is far too acquainted with fear, and unfamiliar with the peace of Jesus Christ.  We live daily in fear of crime, terrorism, war, an uncertain economy, as well as apprehension from urban isolation, from not knowing -- and thus not trusting -- family and neighbors.

Beyond this, fear is used as a powerful tool, driving personal, political and corporate agendas.  Those with agendas often find it easier to motivate people out of fear, rather than out of concern for doing the right thing;  to unite people against a perceived enemy -- real or imaginary -- rather than to rally them around peaceful, constructive goals.  People who otherwise have nothing in common find mutual ground against a shared opponent. An ancient proverb comes to mind:  "the enemy of my enemy is my friend."  Knowledge of such predictable behavior serves as a basis from which to evoke desired responses from select individuals.

As part of the fallen human experience, fear is also a reality in the life of the Church.  Christians face the aforementioned anxieties, in addition to the common fear of human interaction, acceptance and/or rejection by others;  fear of change, of "letting go," i.e. divesting oneself of non-essentials for the Gospel's sake;  an overwhelming fear of God's wrath in churches where divine retribution is a constant theme;  fear of persecution and martyrdom for Christ;  and fear of death generally, with no expense or effort being too great to delay the inevitable, or to make death as painless as possible.

There are those, however, who have risen above personal insecurities, suspicions, threats from non-believers, and anxieties over death.   Many who conquered their fears through love and faith, we call saints.  They provided examples of courage that we strive to emulate.  They knew, as well, a healthy "fear of the Lord" that is "the beginning of wisdom" and which leads to life. (Proverbs 1:7; 9:10; 19:23).

Fear, however, creeps into the Church's life in other ways.  Tragically, as with society at large, it can be used in varying degrees to drive agendas -- personal and political -- even within the Body, to divide one Christian from another.

Additionally, fear is brought in from the outside, as a vestige from the past in the lives of many who convert from other faiths.  In such cases fear may lead to "going on the defensive," assuming that Orthodoxy is easily susceptible to trends adversely affecting non-Orthodox churches.  Thus, at times one encounters knee jerk reactions -- personal efforts to guard the Church -- against legitimate threats, but also against what could be considered normal, healthy activity within the life of the Body.

A few specific examples of the latter readily come to mind, but we will cite only one.

Approximately two decades ago one of our seminaries held a conference concerning, "The Role of Women in the Church."  The theme seemed innocent enough and useful.  People have questions about parish ministries, as well as Orthodoxy's understanding of both men and women serving the Body of Christ.  Thus, a conference devoted to such a topic appeared quite beneficial.

That year a guest editorial was printed in an Orthodox paper, written by a member of the Orthodox Church in America.  His former faith had gone through major changes, among which was the "ordination" of women to the priesthood. The article was somewhat harsh, but primarily defensive.  He emphasized that the seminary gathering, with its focus on women, was an example of activities that could open the floodgates for women's ordination in the Orthodox Church.

Although to some extent I understood his mindset, I disagreed with his predictions of doom.  His words constituted a warning based on prior experiences in another Christian group.   In response to similar situations a friend of mine used to remind people, "Yeah, but that isn't  the Orthodox Church;"  a significant comment, surrounded as we are by countless faiths from which we receive many into Orthodoxy.

His reasoning was that the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church is unique and unrepeatable.  It is the Body of Christ, and strictly speaking, cannot be equated with other churches.  Furthermore, having survived two thousand years of every imaginable persecution and hardship, the Church itself has nothing to fear, particularly from sincere questions by the faithful, and open (reasonable) dialogue.  While regretting what happens outside the Orthodox Church, its members should never deny, out of fear, the power of a living Tradition to address contemporary issues in a forthright manner.  They should never limit the work of the Holy Spirit  as the One Who guides the faithful into all the Truth.

It is a great blessing that we are free and possess the means in this country to convene conferences devoted to "Women in the Church," or to other worthwhile topics, having ready access to knowledgeable theologians, clergy and laymen.  Education and open (reasonable) dialogue on theological, moral, even political issues, are to be encouraged and not feared.

"Airing out" the Faith, letting it breathe and speak to life, allows it to challenge and guide contemporary culture.  Constructing non-essential walls around the Church out of fear, isolating its members from non-existent threats, only serves to harm the Body, placing obstacles to spiritual growth where they need not exist, diverting our focus from the real enemy.  The Apostle's words in his letter to the Ephesians are a continual reminder of where the true danger lies: "we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6:12).

For two millennia the Truth has triumphed over falsehood.  Christ bestowed the gift of peace and promised that, "the gates of hell shall not prevail" (Matthew 16:18).  Individuals may fall and lose sight of the Truth.  The Church of Jesus Christ, however, cannot die.   As an Orthodox nun once commented:  "...even if it is in the heart of one person, the Orthodox Church will always exist."

Admittedly some of these thoughts may be viewed as  simplistic, as perhaps ignoring the great theological controversies of the past, the profound concerns of the Church Fathers as they fought against heresies, as well as the persecutions and strong emotions that accompanied their efforts.  Our intention, however, is not to minimize threats, or serious spiritual consequences resulting from error and delusion.  We merely wish to distinguish between perceived and actual dangers for the Church, and to emphasize the uniqueness of Orthodoxy among the Christian faiths, a distinction which should give courage to the faithful by instilling within them trust in a living Tradition, guided by the Holy Spirit.

We also wish to discourage, within the Church, paralysis brought on by fear, and to encourage a certain openness that is reflected in Church history, as the Church sought to speak creatively to surrounding cultures, bringing into its life, elements of local culture that were worthy of being blessed and baptized.

St. Paul instructs that "fear" -- specifically fear of the "ultimate enemy" -- is something from which Jesus came to deliver mankind (Hebrews 2:15).  Society at large, as well as religious groups, may be prompted or paralyzed by fear and delusion, or may use these things as tools driving agendas of all sorts.  But certainly within the Orthodox Church, its faithful should find courage,  be driven by devotion to Truth and motivated by love, perfect love which "casts out all fear"  (1 John 4:18).

A Man from Texas

A Man from Texas

Fr. Basil Zebrun

Every now and then we meet a person who makes a strong first impression, in either a positive or negative way.  On a recent deanery trip, I had such an experience when I met Thomas from a small town in Texas.  Thomas was the manager of a motel: The Timber Lodge.  On repeated occasions I had the opportunity to watch him enthusiastically answer the motel phone and greet people making their way into the lobby.

Thomas apparently managed alone, so whenever the phone rang he would quickly rush to the counter and answer:  "Good morning, this is Thomas of the Terrific Timber Lodge.  How may I help you?"  As potential guests stepped out of their vehicles he would meet them at the door, shake their hands and ask what he could do to assist them.  In addition, he faithfully informed guests that the breakfast area and snacks were available free of charge, fourteen hours a day, from 8 am to 10 pm.  And if visitors were in doubt as to local "must see" sites, Thomas was all too happy to point them in the right direction.  He proved to be a storehouse of information.

Many people in the retail, entertainment and hotel/motel industries display a degree of friendliness;  they are, we would say, "good salespeople."  The best are those -- like Thomas -- whose enthusiasm and helpfulness are extensions of their natural character:  "it's just who they are."  They believe in their product and are genuinely sensitive to the needs of others.

My impressions of Thomas, however, were shaped by more than his zeal as manager of an inn.  He obviously possessed a fair amount of religious knowledge and was never shy while referring to his practice of the Christian faith.

As examples, when we walked into the lobby and he saw our cassocks Thomas asked if we were Roman Catholic or Orthodox priests.  He apparently knew about the Orthodox Church, and was definitely familiar with the local Orthodox community and some of its members.  When asked about his own Church, he identified himself simply as, "Christian," not mentioning a particular denomination.

In addition, his normal routine required him to be at the motel by 7:30 am.  But during our conversations he stated that many mornings he would awake at 4:30 or 5:00 am.   Prior to leaving the house he naturally would shower, get dressed and eat.  He also had what Orthodox Christians call, "a personal rule of prayer."  If time allowed Thomas would read brief passages from the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, and sing "songs of praise," before departing for the office.

Thomas's enthusiasm for work, and practice of his faith, were impressive.  As one might expect, while watching him manage the lobby my thoughts turned to our own efforts as Orthodox Christians to greet visitors and to be sensitive to their needs when they come through the doors of the Church.

Whenever we meet someone like Thomas who makes a strong first impression it can be a revelation.  For instance, sensing something admirable in Thomas, worthy of emulation, one adult guest said to him lightheartedly during breakfast, "Thomas, when I grow up I want to be like you."  That is quite a statement -- even when said in jest -- coming from someone who only met Thomas the previous night.  On a more serious note, the history of the Church contains examples of those whose lives were changed radically by first impressions, by the sight of Christians observed for the first time, suffering valiantly for the faith, offering forgiveness to their persecutors.  More consistent, though, with our own experiences, are people we know who returned to the Orthodox Church a second time and eventually converted, partially as a result of first impressions: i.e. warm, sincere Church members displaying interest in their initial visit.

My point in all of this, is to encourage us to reflect upon Thomas's dedication to both his job and faith, in terms of Church life generally.  Thomas  was certainly in no danger of suffering or dying immediately for Christ.  In fact, one could say that he had a pleasant career and was merely practicing Christian "bare essentials" within that context:  prayer, hospitality and respect for others. Perhaps being impressed by the bare essentials is a bit revelatory in and of itself.

Be that as it may, imagine what life in the Church would be like generally if, like Thomas, Orthodox Christians  practiced their own rule of prayer more faithfully;  if we displayed more respect for others;  if we concerned ourselves strongly with the immediate needs of guests, welcoming newcomers with the same enthusiasm as this man from Texas.  He performed admirably -- even inspirationally -- within the context of a business: the "Terrific Timber Lodge."  We have something, however, infinitely more precious than a motel:  we have the Church, whose life is that of Christ Himself.  Through the life of the Church we have been united to Christ.  Through Him we have become children of God, citizens of the Kingdom here and now.  Part of our responsibility -- the bare essentials -- is indeed to welcome others into this Reality, this Body, which interestingly has been likened to the inn -- motel -- in the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

One can pray that our recognition of these precious gifts and our enthusiastic response, will perhaps lead others to say, even just in passing,  "When I grow up I want to be like you Orthodox Christians."  As for me, whether or not I am ever able to emulate the admirable qualities of Thomas, I certainly would like to stay at his motel again, if travels permit.   A large welcome and great service will most assuredly be waiting.