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Dear Parish Faithful,
Lost amidst the recent euphoria of Tuesday's inauguration ceremonies is the fact that another large crowd will gather today in Washington D. C. Certainly not a crowd as nearly as large and boisterous as Tuesday's, but a substantial gathering that will be notable for its more sober and serious tone. I am referring to the 36th March for Life demonstration that occurs annually in the capitol on the date of the infamous Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision that legalized abortion on demand in our country and which has claimed well over thirty million lives to date. There will be an Orthodox delegation present. In fact, His Beatitude, Metropolitan Jonah, will deliver the invocation at the annual Rose Dinner that will follow the march this evening.
Not to rain on anyone's parade; or take anything away from the historically impressive event of Tuesday's inauguration of President Barak Obama; or even simplistically reduce the new administration to one particular issue; but the new administration is openly "pro-abortion" regardless of the rhetoric of working to reduce unwanted pregnancies, and thus the need for abortions. This is simply common knowledge. I just read a lengthy article in which pro-abortion advocates are "elated" and expectant of new policy changes that will reverse some of the funding restrictions that have been put in place. Some predict that these will be among the first acts of the new administration. Pro-life advocates are steeling themselves for these very reversals and realize that the future is dim for those who oppose our nation's liberal abortion policies. In the foreseeable future, it appears to be a settled issue.
The bioethical issues have been solved in that the abortion movement inaugurated scientific research into the beginning of life that has clearly demonstrated that human life is a continuum that begins at "the moment of conception." That battle has been fought and won by the advocates of the sanctity of life. The abortion debate is no longer waged on that particular front. The issue remains one of "choice" and "rights," at least on the ideological level. Abortion advocates are claiming that a woman has a legal right to kill her own child in her womb if that is her decision, knowing full well that the "fetus" is a human being. That is the brutal truth behind the shrill cry for "reproductive rights." This is a legal "right" regardless of the circumstances and the "hard cases." And, in our way of thinking, what is "legal" is moral. In my opinion, what has happened slowly over time - some say from the Enlightenment to the present - is the triumph of the self-autonomous individual over life itself. In other words, the self "trumps" over the life of an unborn child. Or perhaps we could say that this means the triumph of the abstract idea of "rights" over the concrete reality of a human life.
Mother Teresa among others has stressed that the moral strength of a country is determined by how it treats its children - "children" here also including those still in the womb and awaiting the light of this world - its infirm and the elderly. (Euthanasia is the issue at the other pole of life). Where does that place America? Is God supposed to bless all of this when politicians casually repeat as a vapid mantra the formula still demanded of them - "God bless America?" How does that blessing "work" with the abuse of our unborn?
Fr. Steven
Webmaster's Note: For an ironic turn on the abortion issue, view this new video created by CatholicVote.com: Life: Imagine the Possibilities.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
On the Death of an Infant
Dear Parish Faithful and Friends in Christ,
Yesterday, we served The Order for the Burial of an Infant over and on behalf of a two-day old boy, who died at Children's Hospital on Saturday.
Humanly speaking, there is nothing more heartbreaking than this: a tiny infant dressed in white baptismal clothes, lying in the middle of the church in a coffin that looks more like a small box, surrounded by his grieving family and friends. With an open casket, I was deeply struck by the innocence, purity and beauty of this "undefiled infant," as he was called in the funeral service. It was difficult not to keep returning to his coffin and looking at him. Here was an indelible image that will always remain with me. In addition, we witnessed his poor mother, still recovering from giving birth on Friday, together with a father who was momentarily elated with the birth of his firstborn son, joined together in mutual grief at their little son's burial service. The initial impact of death is that of irrevocable lost. This is why we sing so realistically, "I weep and wail when I think upon death ..."
We use a completely different funeral service for infants, basically meaning children under the age of seven. This was the first time I had ever served this particular funeral office in my years as a priest. I was struck by the beauty of the service, the certainty of an infant's entrance into the Kingdom of God, and the complete absence of prayers for the "forgiveness of sins" of the departed infant. There is no sin for which he needs to be forgiven - including so-called "original sin." The service explicitly states that "he has not transgressed Thy divine command" (Ode 6 of the Canon); and that "infants have done no evil" (Ode 9 of the Canon). Since transgressing the divine commandment is inevitable in a fallen world, we pray over a departed adult that God will forgive his/her sins. But for an infant, the service repeatedly refers to the departed infant as "undefiled," "uncorrupted," "most-pure," "truly blessed," and even "holy." This is not sentimentalism meant to make us feel better. It rather reveals a profound theological truth.
A child, according to Orthodox Christian teaching, is not born a "guilty sinner." A child is not baptized in order to wash away the stain of "original sin" with its attendant guilt. We believe that a child is born bearing the consequences of "original sin," often referred to as "ancestral sin" by Orthodox theologians precisely in order to distinguish it from “original sin.” The consequences of ancestral sin are corruption and death. A child is born into a fallen, broken, and corrupted world, grievously wounded by sin and death. There is nothing sentimental in that assessment of our "human condition"! Disease and physical deformities are a part of this world, caused by humankind's initial alienation from God - and providentially allowed by God. Thus a child is never too young to die. And hence the tragic nature of life, nowhere more clearly revealed than in the death of an innocent infant. An infant is baptized in order to be saved from the consequences of the ancestral sin that lead each and every person inevitably to sin and be subject to corruption and death. The child needs to be "born again of water and the Spirit" - the Mystery of Baptism - in order to "put on Christ" and the gift of immortality that is received only through sacramentally partaking of the death and resurrection of Christ.
The entire funeral service was permeated by the sure hope and conviction that this little child has been "translated unto Thee," and that he is now "a partaker of Thy Heavenly good things." (Ode 6 of the Canon). His death is treated realistically, and the pathos of an uncompleted earthly life is clearly acknowledged. Yet his death is his entrance to life with God in His eternal Kingdom:
By Thy righteous judgment, Thou hast cut down like a green herb before it has completely sprouted, the infant that Thou hast taken, O Lord. But, as Thou hast led him unto the divine mountain of eternal good things, do Thou plant him there, O Word.
The sword of death has come and cut thee off like a young branch, O blessed one that has not been tempted by worldly sweetness. But, lo, Christ openeth the heavenly gates unto Thee, joining Thee unto the elect, since He is deeply compassionate. (Ode 5 of the Canon)
O Most-perfect Word, Who didst reveal Thyself as perfect Infant: Thou hast taken unto Thyself an infant imperfect in growth. Give him rest with all the Righteous who have been well-pleasing unto Thee, O only Lover of mankind. (Ode 3 of the Canon)
The suffering hearts of the mother and father are not forgotten in the prayers of the service, expressed with a certain rhetorical style that may no longer be fashionable, but which retains a genuinely poignant realism:
No one is more pitiful than a mother, and no one is more wretched than a father, for their inward beings are troubled when they send forth their infants before them. Great is the pain of their hearts because of their children ... (Ikos following Ode 6 of the Canon)
This is further intensified in a hymn that seeks to articulate the words of the infant as if he could communicate with those left behind. Here we find a realistic acknowledgment of intense grief, suffused with a certain hope that God can bring relief to that very grief:
"O God, God, Who hast summoned me: Be Thou the consolation of my household now, for a great lamentation has befallen them. For all have fixed their gaze on me, having me as their only-begotten one. But do Thou, Who wast born of a Virgin Mother, refresh the inward parts of my mother, and bedew the heart of my father with this: Alleluia." (Ikos following Ode 6 of the Canon)
These hymns and prayers are profoundly comforting, not primarily for psychological and emotional reasons, but because they reveal what is actually true: that Christ has overcome death, trampling it down on our behalf by His glorious Resurrection. Death itself has been transformed from within. Horror and darkness give way to hope and life. The healing grace of God does not come through pious, psychological or emotional sentiment, but through the awareness of this Truth as it penetrates our minds and hearts through the gift of faith. What other kind of "comfort" can there be when parents, relatives and friends must bear the cross of the death of a beloved infant? Grief and sorrow over such a loss never leave us, but they can be transmuted and transformed in time by the joy of knowing God's love, poured out to us through His beloved Son and our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Fr. Steven
Yesterday, we served The Order for the Burial of an Infant over and on behalf of a two-day old boy, who died at Children's Hospital on Saturday.
Humanly speaking, there is nothing more heartbreaking than this: a tiny infant dressed in white baptismal clothes, lying in the middle of the church in a coffin that looks more like a small box, surrounded by his grieving family and friends. With an open casket, I was deeply struck by the innocence, purity and beauty of this "undefiled infant," as he was called in the funeral service. It was difficult not to keep returning to his coffin and looking at him. Here was an indelible image that will always remain with me. In addition, we witnessed his poor mother, still recovering from giving birth on Friday, together with a father who was momentarily elated with the birth of his firstborn son, joined together in mutual grief at their little son's burial service. The initial impact of death is that of irrevocable lost. This is why we sing so realistically, "I weep and wail when I think upon death ..."
We use a completely different funeral service for infants, basically meaning children under the age of seven. This was the first time I had ever served this particular funeral office in my years as a priest. I was struck by the beauty of the service, the certainty of an infant's entrance into the Kingdom of God, and the complete absence of prayers for the "forgiveness of sins" of the departed infant. There is no sin for which he needs to be forgiven - including so-called "original sin." The service explicitly states that "he has not transgressed Thy divine command" (Ode 6 of the Canon); and that "infants have done no evil" (Ode 9 of the Canon). Since transgressing the divine commandment is inevitable in a fallen world, we pray over a departed adult that God will forgive his/her sins. But for an infant, the service repeatedly refers to the departed infant as "undefiled," "uncorrupted," "most-pure," "truly blessed," and even "holy." This is not sentimentalism meant to make us feel better. It rather reveals a profound theological truth.
A child, according to Orthodox Christian teaching, is not born a "guilty sinner." A child is not baptized in order to wash away the stain of "original sin" with its attendant guilt. We believe that a child is born bearing the consequences of "original sin," often referred to as "ancestral sin" by Orthodox theologians precisely in order to distinguish it from “original sin.” The consequences of ancestral sin are corruption and death. A child is born into a fallen, broken, and corrupted world, grievously wounded by sin and death. There is nothing sentimental in that assessment of our "human condition"! Disease and physical deformities are a part of this world, caused by humankind's initial alienation from God - and providentially allowed by God. Thus a child is never too young to die. And hence the tragic nature of life, nowhere more clearly revealed than in the death of an innocent infant. An infant is baptized in order to be saved from the consequences of the ancestral sin that lead each and every person inevitably to sin and be subject to corruption and death. The child needs to be "born again of water and the Spirit" - the Mystery of Baptism - in order to "put on Christ" and the gift of immortality that is received only through sacramentally partaking of the death and resurrection of Christ.
The entire funeral service was permeated by the sure hope and conviction that this little child has been "translated unto Thee," and that he is now "a partaker of Thy Heavenly good things." (Ode 6 of the Canon). His death is treated realistically, and the pathos of an uncompleted earthly life is clearly acknowledged. Yet his death is his entrance to life with God in His eternal Kingdom:
By Thy righteous judgment, Thou hast cut down like a green herb before it has completely sprouted, the infant that Thou hast taken, O Lord. But, as Thou hast led him unto the divine mountain of eternal good things, do Thou plant him there, O Word.
The sword of death has come and cut thee off like a young branch, O blessed one that has not been tempted by worldly sweetness. But, lo, Christ openeth the heavenly gates unto Thee, joining Thee unto the elect, since He is deeply compassionate. (Ode 5 of the Canon)
O Most-perfect Word, Who didst reveal Thyself as perfect Infant: Thou hast taken unto Thyself an infant imperfect in growth. Give him rest with all the Righteous who have been well-pleasing unto Thee, O only Lover of mankind. (Ode 3 of the Canon)
The suffering hearts of the mother and father are not forgotten in the prayers of the service, expressed with a certain rhetorical style that may no longer be fashionable, but which retains a genuinely poignant realism:
No one is more pitiful than a mother, and no one is more wretched than a father, for their inward beings are troubled when they send forth their infants before them. Great is the pain of their hearts because of their children ... (Ikos following Ode 6 of the Canon)
This is further intensified in a hymn that seeks to articulate the words of the infant as if he could communicate with those left behind. Here we find a realistic acknowledgment of intense grief, suffused with a certain hope that God can bring relief to that very grief:
"O God, God, Who hast summoned me: Be Thou the consolation of my household now, for a great lamentation has befallen them. For all have fixed their gaze on me, having me as their only-begotten one. But do Thou, Who wast born of a Virgin Mother, refresh the inward parts of my mother, and bedew the heart of my father with this: Alleluia." (Ikos following Ode 6 of the Canon)
These hymns and prayers are profoundly comforting, not primarily for psychological and emotional reasons, but because they reveal what is actually true: that Christ has overcome death, trampling it down on our behalf by His glorious Resurrection. Death itself has been transformed from within. Horror and darkness give way to hope and life. The healing grace of God does not come through pious, psychological or emotional sentiment, but through the awareness of this Truth as it penetrates our minds and hearts through the gift of faith. What other kind of "comfort" can there be when parents, relatives and friends must bear the cross of the death of a beloved infant? Grief and sorrow over such a loss never leave us, but they can be transmuted and transformed in time by the joy of knowing God's love, poured out to us through His beloved Son and our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Fr. Steven
Monday, January 5, 2009
Redeeming the Time
Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,
The future remains unknown to us, but I hope and pray that everyone has a blessed New Year. I assume that the new year has already fallen into its regularity and rhythms on this Monday morning. No more "time off!" The inevitable theme that arises with the New Year is precisely that of time itself, especially the inexorable and irrepressible passage of time. Swept along on its current, where is time carrying us? The very nature of time is very difficult to grasp. Cosmically and geologically, we may measure time in terms of billions or millions of years. Historically, we measure time in terms of millenia or centuries. On a personal level, we measure time in terms of decades, years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds. That is called chronological time. But what of a more psychological or existential experience of time? Thus, the seemingly simple question, "What is time," can leave us groping for an answer that fails to come readily. In Book XI of his Confessions, Blessed Augustine of Hippo (+430) left a famous passage in which he brilliantly describes our struggle with the very concept of time:
What is time? Who can explain this easily and briefly? Who can comprehend this even in thought so as to articulate the answer in words? Yet what do we speak of, in our familiar everyday conversation, more than of time? We surely know what we mean when we speak of it. We also know what is meant when we hear someone else talking about it. What then is time? Provided that no one asks me, I know. If I want to explain it to an inquirer, I do not know.
We speak of time in terms of tenses - past, present and future. But do the past and the future actually exist? When the present passes into the past does that past still exist? And what of the future, since it eventually becomes the present, only to pass into the past? And even the present, how does it exist since it is disappears the moment that it appears? All of a sudden, we have some real questions before us when we try and speak about time! And yet, as Augustine wrote, we all know what is meant by time when discussing it, though we cannot articulate what it is we actually know.
Moving to more practical considerations, I believe that we should acknowledge that time is our most precious "commodity." Time is life, because we live our lives within time. When, for us, there is no more time, then there is no more life. (I am referring to our earthly existence here. The relationship between time and eternity is briefly explored below). We speak of a dead person as no longer having any time. His time is up, so to speak! But if we live within time, and if time is therefore our most precious commodity, why do we often speak of "wasting time?" We must waste time while waiting for the slow "express line" at the supermarket to move along. Are we not then wasting our lives? And even worse, we often speak of "killing time!" We know this experience, because we have to "kill some time" waiting for the doctor to see us or between flights at an airport, to use but two common examples. Are we not then killing life? All of this is inevitable and unavoidable, but it does reflect something of the quotidian nature of our lives and of time itself.
Is it possible to fill up this precious time, rather than wasting or killing it? Instead of becoming impatient with the person in the express line who actually has thirteen items, instead of the maximum twelve, what if we filled that time up with prayer, as in the interior use of the Jesus Prayer? The same for driving, walking, etc. We can always thus "redeem the time" with some effort and discipline. (This has nothing to do with "keeping busy," which can become the greatest source of wasting and killing time imaginable. As I have written before, if we could actually be less busy, we could then begin to be good stewards of the time allotted to us).
God has placed us within the time of the created world. Time is God's gift to us. A Christian acknowledges that time leads us to our deaths, but it also leads us to eternity. In a work entitled "Eternity and Time: Oration for the New Year," Fr. Sergius Bulgakov beautifully expressed the Christian hope that time is not a meaningless movement toward a meaningless death:
The gates of the future are open before us, and through them we pass from time to beyond time, into eternity. Earthly time will cease to be with our death, and especially with the death of the entire world, beyond which its transfiguration will take place. Time will cease to be when the Lord comes. To Him, to His coming to us, we are led by time. Time is woven into a knot at this point. It is that truly new thing for us - the new life, the new heaven and earth - for which we yearn. ... And our New Year prayer contains, like the beating of the Christian heart, the Christian call and beckoning: "Even so, come Lord Jesus." (REV. 22:20)
As trite as this sounds, since we are today about 365 days closer to that reality than our last New Year's celebration, it would seem that we need to think deeply about our lives in time and the direction of our lives. For we do not have an endless store of time. Only God knows the "amount" allotted to each and every one of us. It is a gift that we must not squander. An immediate challenge that the New Year will pose for us is expressed it one of the special petitions found in the Prayer Service for the New Year that we offer up to God on an annual basis:
That He will drive away from us all soul-corrupting passions and corrupting habits, and that He will implant in our hearts His divine fear, unto the fulfillment of His statutes, let us pray to the Lord.
Spending some of our "precious time" engaged in this battle would seem to be a good use of the gift of time granted to us by God.
Fr. Steven
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Daily Prayer
Dear Parish Faithful,
Christ is Born! Glorify Him!
There is a wonderful daily prayer that many of you are familiar with and hopefully use on a, well ... daily basis. This prayer can be found in many Orthodox Prayer Books at the end of the Morning Rule of Prayer. It is usually entitled "The Morning Prayer of the Last Optina Elders." This refers to a famous 19th. c. Russian Orthodox Monastery known as Optina Pustyn, and the great elders who dwelt there. An "elder" or "eldress" in the Orthodox Tradition is almost always a monastic, known for his/her wisdom, spiritual gifts, and ability to guide many souls toward salvation. This particular monastery had a striking line of great elders from the early 19th c. through the Russian Revolution and the violent closure of the monastery. For those unfamiliar with this prayer, I would like to include it below for your continuing use in your personal Rule of Prayer. I hope that this will prove to be a lasting contribution to your new year. I will leave any further formatting to your preferences!
O Lord, grant that I may meet all that this coming day brings
to me with spiritual tranquility. Grant that I may fully
surrender myself to Thy holy Will.
At every hour of this day, direct and support me in all things.
Whatsoever news may reach me in the course of the day,
teach me to accept it with a calm soul and the firm
conviction that all is subject to Thy holy Will.
Direct my thoughts and feelings in all my words and actions.
In all unexpected occurrences, do not let me forget
that all is sent down from Thee.
Grant that I may deal straightforwardly and wisely
with every member of my family, neither
embarassing nor saddening anyone.
O Lord, grant me the strength to endure the fatigue of the
coming day and all the events that take place during it.
Direct my will and teach me to pray, to believe,
to hope, to be patient, to forgive, and to love.
Amen.
to me with spiritual tranquility. Grant that I may fully
surrender myself to Thy holy Will.
At every hour of this day, direct and support me in all things.
Whatsoever news may reach me in the course of the day,
teach me to accept it with a calm soul and the firm
conviction that all is subject to Thy holy Will.
Direct my thoughts and feelings in all my words and actions.
In all unexpected occurrences, do not let me forget
that all is sent down from Thee.
Grant that I may deal straightforwardly and wisely
with every member of my family, neither
embarassing nor saddening anyone.
O Lord, grant me the strength to endure the fatigue of the
coming day and all the events that take place during it.
Direct my will and teach me to pray, to believe,
to hope, to be patient, to forgive, and to love.
Amen.
Fr. Steven
Monday, December 29, 2008
O Inexpressible Mystery!
Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,
Christ is Born!
Glorify Him!
Glorify Him!
A word from the Church's theological vocabulary heard as a common refrain over and again during the Feast of our Lord's Nativity is mystery: I behold a strange, most glorious mystery! we chant in the Nativity Canon, to cite but one well-known example. This word "mystery" is thoroughly scriptural and was employed by the Apostle Paul as a way of "summing up" the pre-eternal plan of God as revealed in Christ in the fullness of time, so that all things could be (re)united in Christ:
For he has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he has set forth in Christ as a plan for the fulness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. (EPH. 1:9-10)
With the Feast of the Nativity it is primarily used to express the greatness of the Incarnation:
Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of our religion: He was manifested in the flesh ... (I TIM. 3:16)
It is very important to bear this in mind, otherwise we may misunderstand the Church's use of the word mystery and equate it with something that is "mystifying," as in confusing, confounding or even incoherent. The Incarnation is not one of the "unsolved mysteries" of the world, that the occasional journalist will take on in one more attempt to finally solve in some satisfactory manner. The mystery of the Incarnation is the ineffable and incomprehensible event of the Son and Word of God becoming flesh. We are in awe of the mystery of the Incarnation, not merely baffled by it. It is a paradox, not a puzzle. It remains a mystery because it can be contemplated and believed in, but not fully explained or rationalized through human thought and words. As many would say today, we cannot quite "wrap our minds" around the Incarnation.
You have borne the Savior, O Virgin Theotokos. You have overthrown Eve's ancient curse. You have become the mother of the Son of God. The Father is well-pleased in Him. You carry at your bosom God, the Word, made flesh. We cannot fathom this mystery. We can only believe, and give glory with you: O Lord, beyond all explanation, glory to Thee! (from the Praises in Matins)
From within the depths of the Church we proclaim this mystery and invite the world to embrace it with joy and thanksgiving. We will therefore resist any and all attempts to subvert this mystery through either sophisticated appeals at rationalization; or crude efforts of mocking denial. By the grace of God the Church knows the unknowable mystery of the Incarnation, because it has been revealed by God and now apprehended by faith. And yet the Logos/Word of God is the source of our logical/reasonable modes of thought and ways of thinking. Thus, we can certainly go a long way in comprehending the incomprehensible mystery of the Incarnation. In his book The Orthodox Way, Archbishop Kallistos Ware offered three reasons behind the meaning and purpose of the Incarnation. His purpose was to defend the virginal conception of the Son of God in the womb of the Virgin Mary, an essential aspect of the Incarnation, the denial of which dissolves the mystery into mere metaphor. Very briefly summarized, he made these points:
1) The Incarnation (and virginal conception) point toward the fact the initiative belongs to God. We do not create our own Savior, rather He is sent to us by God out of God's unbounded love for us.
2) The Incarnation points to the transcendent source of our salvation. Our Savior Jesus Christ is truly human, but not merely human. He is theanthropos - God and man.
3) In the Incarnation a new Person does not come into existence. Rather the divine Person of the Son and Word of God "becomes" flesh. Our Savior is One Person in two natures - the divine and human.
Recently, I received a "genuine" Christmas card. In other words a card that was not only about Christmas but about Christ. (Am I mistaken, or are today's Christmas cards less and less about Christmas and hardly at all about Christ? To me they now seem to be annual communiques between families and friends that reveal aging parents and growing children in one pose or another, but with little less that would reveal the Reason for the Season). Be that as it may, this card revealed a kind of sublime simplicity with its creamy-white background upon which was etched a wonderful example of calligraphy in a dark blue ink. The text was from the great Cappadocian Church Father, St. Gregory of Nyssa who, in his characteristic way, expressed the Church's understanding of the great "mystery of our religion:"
O inexpressible mystery and unheard of paradox; the Invisible is seen; the Intangible is touched; the Eternal Word becomes accessible to our speech; the Timeless steps into time; the Son of God becomes the Son of Man.
What a tremendous blessing, that in a world that is not only so sinful and fallen, but also at times so dreary and dull, we are granted this great mystery to contemplate, assimilate and live by!
Christ is Born! Glorify Him!
Fr. Steven
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