Guest Meditation: 'Notes on An Evening with Archbishop Kallistos Ware'

 

Dear Parish Faithful,

Following our "Evening With Archbishop Kallistos" on Sunday, one of our participants - Jenny Harkins - expanded her impression of Archbishop Kallistos's words - words of authority, insight and wisdom - with the following reflection. Jenny here has expanded the words of the talk from our personal lives into the very structure and flow of the Liturgy. I would like to share this with the parish, as it deserves a careful reading and reflection.

Also related to Archbishop Kallistos Ware:

Remembering Archbishop Kallistos - For those who would be interested, on Monday, October 3 at 5:00pm EDT, St. Vladimir's Seminary will be livestreaming a memorial service for Archbishop Kallistos, followed by personal remembrances of him shared by Very Rev. Dr Chad Hatfield, His Eminence, Archbishop Alexander (Golitzin), and Dr Peter Bouteneff.

 

Registration is required. Follow this link for full info and to register for the livestream.  

- Fr Steven

__________

I'll try to solidify my thoughts on Met. Ware's three phases of prayer as they seem to relate to the progression of the Divine Liturgy. Met. Kallistos said, "Prayer begins with prayer of the lips or prayer with words. But then it grows more inward and becomes prayer of the mind or intellect. Then there is a further stage where it becomes prayer of the heart or more exactly prayer of the mind in the heart. Heart signifies not just the affections and emotions but the deep self, the inner shrine, the spiritual center of the total human person. The heart is the place where we encounter Christ and the Holy Spirit dwelling within us." 

It struck me that as we first come together to worship on Sunday mornings, quieting ourselves from the bustle of getting the family ready, the commute, and settling into our places amidst friendly greetings, our first phase of prayer as "the Body" gathered is this "prayer of the lips" in our several litanies and answering antiphons. Then as our thoughts align with our words and focus-in on the Lord and his presence with us, we are warmed and ready, so to speak, to enter into the next phase of prayer- "prayer of the mind (nous)." As you pray the words, "Illumine our hearts, O Master who lovest mankind, with the pure light of thy divine knowledge, and open the eyes of our mind to the understanding of thy Gospel teachings," our intellect is attentive and receptive to the very Word of God; fertile soil being fed and fertilized as the Gospel takes root and grows spiritual fruit, our distractions and anxieties from the week being uprooted as grace and truth till deeper still. (God's promise in Is 55:10-11 comes to mind- "For as the rain and the snow come down from Heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.") 

And now, with our minds refreshed and purified, we enter into Met. Kallistos' third phase of prayer, "prayer of the heart- or the mind in the heart (kardia)." From the Great Entrance as the gifts are offered and blessed and we prayerfully examine our innermost being in preparation for the Divine union, it seems that we are opening into this deepest level of prayer, when we receive and miraculously commune with the Lord in the reception of his precious Body and Blood. There is no space left here. Our "inner shrine" is completely aflame in the refining love of God (whether or not our minds can comprehend it or our words express it).

Glory to God for Autumn

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

(Here is an older meditation from over a decade ago. I thought to bring it back to life in case anyone would be interested in something that deals with the season of Fall that begins today).

 

Glory to God for Autumn

This year, the Fall officially begins at 9:03 p.m. on Thursday, September 22. And that means later today. From my personal—and, admittedly, “subjective”—perspective, there is nothing quite like the fall among the four seasons. For me, one of this season’s greatest attractions is found in the flaming red, orange, yellow and golden leaves that transform familiar trees into a series of neighborhood “burning bushes,” each one seemingly brighter than the other. When combined with a piercing blue sky on a sunlit day and a certain crispness in the air, I find myself more vividly aware of the surrounding world and thankful for God’s creation.

On a somewhat more “philosophical note”—more apt to emerge, perhaps, on an overcast, windswept day—we may realize that this “colorful death” signals the fleeting nature of everything beautiful in this world, “for the form of this world is passing away” [1 Corinthians 7:31]. And yet this very beauty, and the sense of yearning that accompanies it, is a sign of the beauty ineffable of the coming Kingdom of God and our restless desire to behold and experience that beauty.

Growing up on a typical city block in Detroit, I distinctly recall a neighborhood “ritual” that marked this particular season: the raking and burning of leaves that went on up and down the entire block once most of the leaves had spiraled and floated to the ground. Everyone on the block raked the leaves down toward the street and into neatly formed mounds of color that rested alongside the curb. Then they were lit and the task of raking now became that of tending and overseeing the piles of burning leaves. This usually occurred after dinner for most families, but one could still see the shimmering waves of heat that protected one from the early evening chill and the ascending ashes rushing upward. Please momentarily forgive my politically incorrect indifference to the environment, but I thoroughly enjoyed those small bonfires near the curb as the pungent smell of burning leaves filled the air. This unmistakable smell would, as I recall, linger in the air for a couple of weeks or more as different neighbors got to the task at different times.

The entire scene embodied the wholesomeness of a 1950s first-grade reading primer, as “Mom” and “Dad,” together with “Dick” and “Jane” (and perhaps “Spot,” the frisky family dog) smilingly cooperated in this joint, familial enterprise. The reading primer would reformulate this “celebration” of healthy work and a neatly ordered environment into a staccato of minimally-complex sentences: “See Dad rake;” “Dick and Jane are raking too;” “Here comes mom!” This all served to increase the budding student’s vocabulary while reinforcing a picture of an idealized—if not idyllic—American way of life.

Since my parents were peasants from a Macedonian village, we never quite fit into that particular mold—especially when my mother would speak to me in Macedonian in front of my friends! And yet I distinctly remember teaching my illiterate mother to read from those very “Dick and Jane” primers so that she could obtain her American citizenship papers, which she proudly accomplished in due time.

Before getting too nostalgic, however, I will remind you that this wholesome way of life - something of an urban idyll - was taking place at the height of Cold War anxiety. This, in turn, evokes another clear memory from my youth: the air-raid drills in our schools that were meant to prepare us and protect us from a Soviet nuclear strike. (Khrushchev’s shoe-pounding exhibition at the United Nations, together with his ominous “We will bury you!” captured the whole mood of this period.) These carefully-executed air-raid drills were carried out with due solemnity and seriousness—lines straight and no talking allowed! We would wind our way down into a fairly elaborate—if not labyrinthine—series of basement levels that were seemingly constructed, and thus burdened, with the hopeless task of saving us from nuclear bombs! We would then sit in neatly formed rows monitored by our teachers, and apparently oblivious to the real dangers of the Cold War world, until the “all clear” signal was given, allowing us to file back to our classrooms. Thus did the specter of the mushroom cloud darken the sunny skies of “Dick” and “Jane’s” age of innocence.

I must acknowledge that my short nostalgic digression does not offer a great deal for reflection. So as not to entirely frustrate that purpose—and because I began with some brief reflections on the created world—I would like to offer some of the wonderful praises of the beauty of the world around us from the remarkable Akathistos Hymn, “Glory to God for All Things.”

This hymn, which has become quite popular in many Orthodox parishes, was said to have been composed either by an Orthodox bishop or priest slowly perishing in a Soviet prison camp in 1940. In unscientific, yet theological-poetic imagery, he reminds us of what we are often blind to: God’s glorious creation. Would he have “missed” all of this if his life was as free as ours are to be preoccupied with daily concerns and cares that leave no time or room to look around in wonder? Whatever the case may be, this is a magnificent hymn that fills the soul with delight if only for the moment that it is being chanted:

O Lord, how lovely it is to be Your guest. Breeze full of scents; mountains reaching to the skies; waters like boundless mirrors, reflecting the sun’s golden rays and the scudding clouds. All nature murmurs mysteriously, breathing the depth of tenderness. Birds and beasts of the forest bear the imprint of Your love. Blessed are you, mother earth, in your fleeting loveliness, which wakens our yearning for happiness that will last forever. In the land where, amid beauty that grows not old, rings out the cry: Alleluia! [Kontakion 2]

You have brought me into life as if into an enchanted paradise. We have seen the sky like a chalice of deepest blue, where in the azure heights the birds are singing. We have listened to the soothing murmur of the forest and the melodious music of the streams. We have tasted fruit of fine flavor and the sweet-scented honey. We can live very well on Your earth. It is a pleasure to be Your guest. [Ikos 2]

I see Your heavens resplendent with stars. How glorious You are, radiant with light! Eternity watches me by the rays of the distant stars. I am small, insignificant, but the Lord is at my side. Your right arm guides me wherever I go. [Ikos 5]

Brings to mind Dostoevsky’s enigmatic phrase:  “Beauty will save the world.”

'Wood is healed by Wood!' - The Tale of Two Trees

  

Dear Parish Faithful,

"I call Him King, because I see Him crucified." (St. John Chrysostom)

As we bid farewell to the Feast of the Elevation of the Cross, today being the Leave-taking, perhaps a few more words about the Cross might be appropriate.

The Feast of the Elevation of the Cross raises a myriad of themes - Biblical, historical, theological, etc. - for our meditation, to use that term. One such theme is what we call a typological reading of the Scriptures. This is a profound way of discovering the inner connection between persons, events, and places of the Old Testament - what we would call "types" - with their fulfillment as "antitypes" in the New Testament. Thus, Adam is a type of which Christ - the last Adam - is the antitype:  "Adam who was the type of the one who was to come" (ROM. 5:14).

Through typology we learn that the Old Testament can now be read as anticipating the Person of Christ and the saving events recorded in the New Testament, without undermining the integrity of the historical path of ancient Israel as the People of God entrusted by God with a messianic destiny. One such typological application is expressed in an intriguing and paradoxical manner through one of the hymns of the Feast of the Elevation of the Cross:

...For it is fitting that wood should be healed by wood, and that through the Passion of One who knew not passion should be remitted all the suffering of him who was condemned because of wood. (Sticheron, Great Vespers)

 

A truly wonderful phrase: "wood should be healed by wood!" Yet, what is this "wood" that is being referred to? How does wood "heal" wood? The wood in both instances is clearly the wood of two trees - the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil as found in GEN. 2; and the wood of the Tree of the Cross. In disobedience to the command of God, the man and woman of GEN. 2 - Adam and Eve - ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. This was the one tree, the fruit of which, it was not safe for them to eat:

You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in that day that you eat of it you shall die. (GEN. 2:17)

 

The freedom and self-determination of the first man and woman were tested by this divine commandment. In a celebrated interpretation of this passage, St. Gregory the Theologian (+395) draws out the meaning of this command and its consequence

[God gave Adam] a law as a material for his free will to act on. This law was a commandment as to what plants he might partake of and which one he might not touch. This latter was the tree of knowledge; not, however, because it was evil from the beginning when planted, nor was it forbidden because God grudged it to us - let not the enemies of God wag their tongues in that direction or imitate the serpent. But it would have been good if partaken of at the proper time. The tree was, according to my theory, contemplation, which is safe only for those who have reached maturity of habit to enter upon, but which is not good for those who are still somewhat simple and greedy, just as neither is solid food good for those who are yet tender and have need of milk. (Second Oration on Easter, 8)

 

This is also found in St. Athanasius the Great (+373)

Knowing once more how the will of man could sway to either side, in anticipation God secured the grace given to them by a command and by the place where he put them. For he brought them into his own garden and gave them a law so that, if they kept the grace and remained good, they might still keep the life in paradise without sorrow or pain or care, besides having the promise or incorruption in heaven. But if they transgressed and turned back and became evil, they might know that they were incurring that corruption in death that was theirs by nature, no longer to live in paradise but cast out of it from that time forth to die and abide in death and corruption. (On The Incarnation, 3.4.)

 

The theme of the initial innocence of Adam and Eve, their lack of maturity and need for spiritual growth and maturation was very characteristic of the Eastern Church Fathers, being found as early as St. Irenaeus of Lyons (+c. 200).

Therefore, the "wood" of this tree proved to be death-dealing, not because God made it such "in the beginning," but because it was partaken of in a forbidden manner and not "at the proper time."

Nothing created by God is evil by nature; rather, all is "very good." But misdirected free will can pervert the good into something that is evil. The gift of the promise of deification is a God-sourced gift, not a self-sourced gift. 

On the other hand, the Tree of the Cross is precisely the wood through which the first disobedience was undone by the One who died on it in obedience to the will of the Father. The Tree of Life that was in the Garden was the actual "type" of the Tree of the Cross on Golgotha. The last Adam - Christ - healed us of the sin of the first Adam. (As early as St. Justin the Martyr, it was taught that the Virgin Mary was the "new Eve" also because of her obedience to the Word of God). The Cross is therefore

... the blessed Wood, through which the eternal justice has been brought to pass. For he who by a tree deceived our forefather Adam, is by the Cross himself deceived; and he who by tyranny gained possession of the creature endowed by God with royal dignity, is overthrown in headlong fall. (Sticheron, Great Vespers)

 

According to a pious tradition, the place of the skull is the place where Adam was buried when he died. The blood that flowed from Christ "baptized" that skull as symbolic of the sons of Adam (and Eve) being given renewed and eternal life by the blood shed by Christ on the Cross - the Tree of Life.

The Tree of true life was planted in the place of the skull, and upon it hast Thou, the eternal King, worked salvation in the midst of the earth. Exalted today, it sanctifies the ends of the world... (Litiya, Great Vespers)

 

"Wood is healed by Wood!" This is the good news revealed in the typological interpretation found in the liturgical hymns of the Feast of the Elevation of the Cross together with the biblical exegesis of the Church Fathers. This is why we honor and venerate the Cross by literally bowing down before it in adoration. The Cross was at the heart of the proclamation of the Gospel, a instrument of shame in the ancient world. But this did not deter the Apostle Paul from proclaiming that Gospel as the power of God:

For I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to every one who has faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. (ROM. 1:16)

 

We also cannot be "ashamed" of the Tree of the Cross through which "joy has come into the world."

The Cross Planted In Our Hearts

 

 

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

In mid-September, the Church has brought the Cross into our consciousness and into our midst tangibly for veneration. On the Sunday Before the Elevation of the Cross, we heard the ringing words from the Gospel According to St. John: "For God so loved the world that he gave His only-begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life" (JN. 3:16). This placed the Cross within the widest possible context - in fact within the immeasurable context of the love of God for the world/cosmos. As the Church Fathers always teach us, God loved the world into existence, and now He will act decisively in order to save the world. And the "giving" of His only-begotten Son will be as the Son of Man lifted up on the Cross "that whoever believes in him may have eternal life" (JN. 3:15). The God who created the world, is the God who redeemed the world in Christ.

On the Feast Day of the Elevation of the Cross itself (Sept. 14), we again hear from the Gospel According to St. John, and this time it is the actual narrative account of the Crucifixion. The pathos of the Cross is illuminated by a series of theological revelations that express the meaning of the Cross. One particularly profound instance of this comes immediately upon the death of the Savior: "But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water" (JN. 19:34). Many of the Church Fathers were insightful and eloquent in uncovering the meaning of this seemingly mundane act of further violence: 

For "blood and water came out." Not simply without a purpose, or by chance, did those founts come forth, but because by means of these two together the Church consists. And the initiated in the Mysteries know it, being by water indeed regenerated, and nourished by the blood and the flesh. Hence the Mysteries take their beginning; that when you approach that awesome Cup, you may so approach, as drinking from the very side. (St. John Chrysostom, Homily 85 on the Gospel of St. John). 

He caused the fountain of remission to well forth for us out of His holy and immaculate side, water for our regeneration, and the washing away of sin and corruption; and blood to drink as the hostage of life eternal. (St. John of Damascus, Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, Bk. IV, Ch. IX). 

As His earthly course began with water, so it ended with it. His side is pierced by the spear, and blood and water flow forth, twin emblems of baptism and martyrdom. (St. Jerome, Letter LXIX, to Oceanus).

Although the Gospel accounts of the Crucifixion are narrated with sobriety and very little emphasis on the pain, anguish, and blood of the cross, they nevertheless firmly witness to the true sufferings of the Lord, so that the Cross does not disappear into a kind of docetic symbolism. This was a real event and the Lord really suffered and died on the Cross. We can never lose sight of this fact in an abstract "theology of the Cross." Truly, "one of the Holy Trinity" tasted of death on our behalf because He "became flesh."

On the Sunday After the Elevation of the Cross - that is, next Sunday - we will hear the words of Christ that relate His Cross to our lives and the need for self-denial: 

If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it. (MK. 8:34-35)

The emphasis is now on our self-denial. Or rather, self-denial is the taking up of one's cross in fulfillment of the Lord's words. The challenge is found in the obvious fact that most people - including Christians - are not particularly keen about self-denial. It does not come to us "naturally." The cost seems far too high. But although that sounds like a very "natural" reaction, perhaps there are better questions to ask ourselves: what is the cost of not practicing self-denial? What does the conscious or unconscious refusal to deny ourselves mean in terms of our relationship with God and neighbor? Is true discipleship even possible without self-denial? Can a marriage, a family, or a friendship prosper without self-denial? What, ultimately, is this "self" that cannot be denied anything?

The successfully marketed slogans of self-realization and self-fulfilment are more-or-less thinly veiled pseudo-philosophies or pop psychologies that actually promote self-absorption and self-interest. If indulged in for a seriously dangerous amount of time and with a good deal of energy, such efforts eventually collapse into the worst excesses of self-worship. The self is set up as an interior golden calf to be worshiped at all costs, and seeking constant propitiation. On the altar of this very well-known god, we burn up our relationships with God and neighbor and are left with little more than dust and ashes. (Perhaps this strong inclination toward self-idolatry is behind the Buddhist rejection of the very concept of the self. If the self is an illusion, then it can be ignored as irrelevant to the process of enlightenment). In our Orthodox theology and anthropology, the person (the "true self" we could say) is not absorbed or annihilated in the process of deification. Rather, the person as a unique mode of existence is brought to perfection and "stabilized" in not only well-being, but even eternal being, through union with God - the ultimate gift of the Holy Spirit working in us.

Jesus knew the liberating effect of fighting against self-love and self-will. Only in this struggle can we begin to see God and the neighbor as other centers of life and love. Only then can the passions - nurtured and fed by self-indulgence - be conquered in a battle described by Archbishop Kallistos Ware as one waged against the "fallen self ... for the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and it is the men of violence who take it by force" (MATT. 11:12). With a bit of courage and the Christian virtues of faith, hope, and love, we can "deny ourselves" for the sake of the Kingdom of God, and be liberated from the prison of the self in the process.

In his article "The Tree of the Cross," Fr. Thomas Hopko offers a fine summation of the Church's emphasis on the Cross in either festal commemoration or personal devotion:

Genuine Orthodox spirituality is always a spirituality of the cross. When the tree of the cross is removed from the center of our lives we find ourselves cast out of paradise and deprived of the joy of communion with God. But when the cross remains planted in our hearts and exalted in our lives, we partake of the tree of life and delight in the fruits of the Spirit, by which we live forever with the Lord. Rejoice, O Lifegiving Cross!

 

The Nativity of the Theotokos - To see life with a restored vision

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

O incomprehensible and ineffable matters! The God of all things, knowing in advance your worth, loved you; and because of this love, he predestined you, and at the end of times (I Pet. 1:20), he brought you into being and revealed you as Theotokos, Mother, and Nurse of his own Son and God."

"Be glad most blessed Anna, for you have born a female [child]. This female [child] will be the Mother of God, gateway of light and source of life, and she will do away with the accusation against the female sex."

- St. John of Damascus

 

The church was quite filled – and the “Communion line” was quite long – yesterday evening for the Feast of the Nativity of the Theotokos. The simple truth is that a Feast Day was therefore “festal” in nature. Coming as it does right after the beginning of the Church New Year, this Feast allows us a good start that we further hope we can sustain as the liturgical year unfolds before us. As a straightforward and joyous feast of commemorating the birth of the Virgin Mary, we receive a “taste” of the joyousness of life from within the Church that is often obscured by life’s challenges, difficulties and tragedies. Fr. Alexander Schmemann puts it like this: 

In and through this newborn girl, Christ – our gift from God, our meeting and encounter with Him – comes to embrace the world. Thus, in celebrating Mary’s birth we find ourselves already on the road to Bethlehem, moving toward to the joyful mystery of Mary as the Mother of God.

 

In an age of cynicism and unbelief, to encounter the purity of Mariam of Nazareth – the Virgin Mary and Theotokos – is to see life with a restored vision that, again, is only possible from within the Church. Goodness, purity of heart and faithfulness to God are embodied realities lived by real human persons. Such a restored vision of life will strengthen our sense of the inherent goodness of life that sin may obscure, but never obliterate. Yet,  if we can no longer “see” that, then we have lost something absolutely vital to our humanity, and we need to repent and embrace that “change of mind” that will restore our own humanity. 

Some will undoubtedly see nothing but a stereotype of the “feminine” here, but perhaps Fr. Schmemann has something worthwhile to say in his approach to the “image of woman” as manifested in the Virgin Mary:

The Virgin Mary, the All-Pure Mother demands nothing and receives everything. She pursues nothing, and possesses all. In the image of the Virgin Mary we find what has almost completely been lost in our proud, aggressive, male world: compassion, tender-heartedness, care, trust, humility.

We call her our Lady and the Queen of heaven and earth, and yet she calls herself “the handmaid of the Lord.” She is not out to teach or prove anything, yet her presence alone, in its light and joy, takes away the anxiety of our imagined problems. It is as if we have been out on a long, weary, unsuccessful day of work and have finally come home, and once again all becomes clear and filled with that happiness beyond words which is the only true happiness.

Christ said, “Do not be anxious … Seek first the Kingdom of God” (see Mt. 6:33). Beholding this woman – Virgin, Mother, Intercessor – we begin to sense, to know not with our mind but with our heart, what it means to seek the Kingdom, to find it, and to live by it.

Celebration of Faith, Vol. 3

 

On the day following the Feast – today, September 9 – we commemorate the “ancestors of God,” Joachim and Anna, the father and mother of the Virgin Mary according to the Tradition of the Church. This is a consistent pattern within our festal and liturgical commemorations: On the day after a particular feast, we commemorate the persons who are an integral part of that feast day’s events. For example, the day after Theophany we commemorate St. John the Baptist; and on the day after Nativity, we commemorate the Theotokos. Therefore, because of the essential role of Joachim and Anna in the current Feast of the Virgin Mary’s Nativity, September 9 is the “synaxis of Joachim and Anna” and we thus bring them to mind in an effort to discern and meditate upon their important place in this festal commemoration.

The source of their respective roles is the Protoevangelion of James, a mid 2^nd c. document. As Archbishop Ware has written:

The Orthodox Church does not place the Protoevangelion of James on the same level as Holy Scripture: it is possible, then, to accept the spiritual truth which underlies this narrative, without necessarily attributing a literal and historical exactness to every detail. 

One of those “spiritual truths” alluded to by Archbishop Ware is the account of both Joachim and Anna continuing to pray with faith and trust in God’s providence even though they were greatly discouraged over the “barrenness” of Anna. This is no longer our perception today, for not being able to have a child is hardly a sign of "barrenness!" And it also implies that this is a "woman's" problem, thus disengaging the man's role in the process of conception.  Yet, it is true that a lack of children in ancient Israel could easily be taken for a sign of God’s displeasure, thus hinting at hidden sins that deserve rebuke. Though disheartened, they continued to place their trust in God, refusing to turn away from God though thoroughly tested as to their patience. Perseverance in prayer in the face of discouragement is a real spiritual feat that reveals genuine faith. The conception and then birth of the Virgin Mary reveals the joyous outcome of their faith and trust in God. Perhaps this is why we commemorate Joachim and Anna as the “ancestors of God” at the end of every Dismissal in our major liturgical services, including the Divine Liturgy: We seek their prayers as icons of an everyday faith that is expressed as fidelity, faith and trust in God’s Law and providential care.

Icon of the Conception of the Theotokos by Righteous Anna

 

 

Joachim and Anna could also be witnesses to a genuine conjugal love that manifests itself in the conception and birth of a new child. Their union is an image of a “chaste” sexual love that is devoid of lust and self-seeking pleasure. The strong ascetical emphases of many of our celibate saints may serve to undermine or obscure the blessings of conjugal love as envisaged in the Sacrament of Marriage. In fact, through its canonical legislation going back to early centuries, the Church has struggled against a distorted asceticism that denigrates sexual love even within the bonds of marriage as a concession to uncontrollable passions. The Church is not “anti-sex.” But the Church always challenges us to discern the qualitative distinction between love and lust. The icon of the embrace of Joachim and Anna outside the gates of their home as they both rush to embrace each other following the exciting news that they would indeed be given a child, is the image of this purified conjugal love that will result in the conception of Mary, their child conceived as all other children are conceived.

The Feast of the Nativity of Our Most Holy Lady the Theotokos has four days of Afterfeast, thus ending with the Leavetaking on September 12. That allows us to then prepare for the Feast of the Elevation of the Cross on September 14!

 

Begin the New Year with Thanksgiving

Dear Parish Faithful,

"The heavens are telling the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims His handiwork." (Ps 19:1)

On Wednesday evening, there were clearly over fifty worshipers in the Church for the chanting and singing of the remarkable Akathist Hymn, "Glory to God for All Things." This hymn seems to gain in popularity and participation on an annual basis. Those who are familiar with this hymn unanimously praise its beauty and power.There were also many from our Youth Group present, as they shared a common meal together before the service. Perhaps the hymn further planted seeds in their young minds and hearts about the presence and grandeur of God.

The "presentation" of the beauty of the natural world is one of the key components of this Akathist Hymn.This remarkable text is attributed to Archpriest Gregory Petrov (+1942), and/or a certain Metropolitan Tryphon ((+1934), both of whom perished in a Soviet prison camp. This hymn is replete with prayerful thanksgiving to God for the glory of the natural world in which we can more than detect the hand of God. In the praises from the hymn, we hear:

Glory to You, Who have shown me the beauty of the universe, 
Glory to You, Who have opened before me the sky and the earth as an eternal book of wisdom ... 
(Oikos 1) 

Glory to You, Who brought out of earth's darkness diversity of color, taste and fragrance, 
Glory to You, for the warmth and caress of all nature, 
Glory to You, for surrounding us with thousands of Your creatures, 
Glory to You, for the depth of Your wisdom reflected in the whole world, 
Glory to You, I kiss reverently the footprint of Your invisible tread ... 
(Oikos 3)

The Hymn, of course, speaks of other aspects of life for which we praise God - of His over-all providential guidance of our lives and the world to their ulitmate fulfillment in the Kingdom of God; of our relationships of love and fellowship with others; of the gifts of creativity and human endeavor, etc. As this Hymn expands our mind by effectively bringing to its attention the endless range of the world's diverse beauty that surrounds us; it can simultaneously expand our hearts to "open up" to God's presence in the world and in the face of our neighbor. The Akathist Hymn "Glory to God for All Things!" is "uplifting" in the best sense of the word. For it lifts one out of those daily perceptions of life that only vaguely remind us of God's presence; into a clarity of vision that sharpens that presence by reminding of realities we know of but often bury beneath our narrowly-focused preoccupations.

Many people - and I include myself - like new beginnings. For a new beginning means a new and fresh start. And this in turn leads us to (re)assess our lives in relationship to God. The Church New Year on September 1, may be little more than a neglected note on the church calendar hanging on the refrigerator or wall. In the endless "battle of the calendars" it may pass right by. In the "daily grind" it may seem quaint in its utter insignificance. However, if it can somehow catch our attention, it may be the starting point of renewing our relationship with God - and with our neighbor and the world around us. To take the time to observe the beginning of the Church New Year may be a small victory that reveals a larger and often hidden desire to make God first in our lives.