Children and the Cosmos

Children and saints cling to You, O Lord, the rest rebel against You.

Children and saints are the boundary between the Kingdom of existence and the shadow of nonexistence.

—St. Nikolai Velimiromich, Prayers by the Lake XCV (full passage here)

It occurred to me recently in becoming a father that I am even less of an atheist than I was before. (This is predicated upon the truth that we are all atheists to one degree or another—the only truly perfected believers are the saints.) This quote above from St. Nikolai which I ran across this morning alludes directly to this thought that I had sometime last week.

In looking at a little child, most especially one's own, we are enabled to become acutely aware of the awesome reality of creation. Here is this person who until recently was defined only by non-being. Before her conception, my daughter simply was not. To be sure, there were cells and proteins and molecules and atoms which would go into her constitution. But they were not my daughter.

And then, into the nothingness, God stepped once again and called her forth ex nihilo, just as He did the universe itself. It is only with the eyes of faith that one can even begin to perceive this boundary between the total non-being of a person and the sudden, yet secret and mysterious, truth of personal existence.

Here, before us, is this new person, created by God in the hidden and sacred interior of womanhood and then revealed to the world in due time. She is unrepeatable, unique, a singular event in history which has never before been seen and never will be seen again.

And this is the same power which Christ holds out to each of us for our re-creation, that having hurled ourselves toward the nothingness from which He called us, we may repent (turn around) and be renewed in that same life-giving energy and power.

How the heck can we ever allow ourselves to become nominalists? We can only stand in rapt wonder.

God is Not a Micromanager

This post from a fellow Antiochian priest in the UK (whom I visited in 2001) met with thoughts from the past couple days about religious jargon and the way people talk about their spiritual life. One theme that is dominant is what Fr. Gregory points out:

To hear some Christians talk you would think they had a "hot-line to God." They are so convinced that God is in daily, direct communication with them, to suggest otherwise would be to compromise on the glorious intimacy that faith and grace bestow. So overweening is this confidence that rarely do they stop to ask: "Am I hearing right? Is this God or Satan? Is this perhaps me talking to myself?" There is no room for such doubts on the hotline.

This way of speaking about faith is extremely common here in Appalachia, even among Christians raised outside the Evangelicalism which is the home of this sort of language. I've heard both Roman Catholics and Orthodox Christians here in West Virginia speak this way, that "God was really showing me ________," "The Lord laid on my heart that I should ________," or "God told me that ________."

As Fr. Gregory points out, there is something a bit awry with this manner of speaking. To be sure, one cannot doubt the spiritual sincerity of people who speak this way, but in all honesty, how can we really be sure that it's God talking to us and not ourselves (or even, God forbid, one of the dark powers)? One rarely finds this sort of language in the Scriptures, except coming from the prophets and apostles. Even then, especially with the apostles, one does not see any indication that they believe that God is directing them in such a detailed way most of the time, and they certainly don't say that they "feel" God is leading them in such-and-such a direction.

Even though I was raised with such language, being from an Evangelical Protestant background, hearing it these days always makes me a bit uncomfortable and even a little suspicious. As a priest, I sometimes get asked about what God's will for someone's life is, usually in terms of whether they should change jobs, relocate, buy a certain house, etc. My response is almost always the same and based on St. Augustine's famous dictum: "Love, and do what thou wilt!" Really, we cannot make spiritual mistakes if we are genuinely living in repentance and self-sacrificial love. (And what does it really matter if we make earthly mistakes?) God's will for us is that we turn away from sin and embrace holiness. The particular details of our earthly circumstances are relatively trivial.

This is not to say that we don't have experiences of the mystical and the divine, but the truth of the matter is that most mystical experience is really rather "mundane" compared to what most of us wish it were. In looking for "experiences," however, we are falling into the error St. Paul points out to the Corinthians:

For the Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom: But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumblingblock (scandalon), and unto the Greeks foolishness (I Cor. 1:22-23).

Sometimes the scandalon and foolishness of our Christian life is precisely that it is so unspectacular. Seek not for fireworks and voices. Seek ye rather the kingdom and all His righteousness (Matt. 6:33). This involves crucifixion.

Mind you, when I hear an Orthodox Christian speaking in this manner, that God is "leading" and "speaking" to them in numerous minute and detailed ways, I don't try to shut them down. Usually, this is the only language they have thus far learned to express such things. My experience has been, however, that over time as people delve more and more deeply into authentic Orthodox spiritual life, humility eventually teaches them that they're really not prophets and that our own free will is what governs what we do. As Fr. Gregory says:

With this in mind we should not say that we have a "hotline to God" that rather that we have "an ordinary connection." True, God speaks to us. He does answer our prayers, although not always in ways we would like. However, in this life our sin and laziness always generate "noise on the line." Repentance deals with this interference progressively. We should therefore have a more measured sense of what we and others are able to hear. Sometimes it is the "Word of the Lord." Sometimes it is not. Discernment is called for.

The example of the saints is that they would prefer to say that God never spoke to them and thus accidentally ignore an angelic voice than to mistake a voice that is not God's for the true divine word.

Trust me: If you're ever chosen to be a prophet, it will be spectacularly apparent not only to you but by the confirmation of the Church. It's best that you do your best to refuse it, though, and accept that recognition of authentic prophecy usually only comes after death and is typically accompanied by persecution in life.

These days, I'm finding more and more wisdom in the "ordinary." Live life. Don't assume you're getting messages from God. Don't think you're special. Try to be holy. Confess your sins. Receive Holy Communion frequently. Pray frequently. Come to church frequently. Do all this with thanksgiving to God, and the rest will take care of itself.

The God of Healing

The following was my sermon from this past Sunday. I am posting it here at the suggestion of a friend:

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, one God. Amen.

Much noise is being made today by people who reject even the very existence of God. It seems that almost every month now, we hear about a new bestseller which scoffs at believers. And of course right around both Christmas and Pascha, we usually are faced with some archaeological news story claiming to have found new evidence that Jesus was not Who He said He was.

The ferocity with which unbelievers can sometimes attack Christians can be genuinely baffling. How is it that such hatred for God could arise? Why do people expend so much energy on something they say doesn’t even exist? I believe that the source of all this energy is to be found in the way many Christians present God.

To many people, the primary image they have of God is as a Judge. In this legalistic image, God sits in a court and condemns the unrighteous for their evil, punishing them with suffering and hell for their sins. Sin is primarily understood as a crime against God’s law, and hell is its punishment. At the same time, Heaven is the reward of those who believe. It is true that images of this kind are to be found in Scripture, and isolating them and exclusively emphasizing them is what yields this picture that many of us have of God: that He has set up an arbitrary list of usually pleasurable things we’re not allowed to do, and He’ll zap us if we do them. This, I believe, is the “God” that the atheists do not believe in.

Honestly, why would any of us want to believe in such a cruel and arbitrary “God”? In this view, “God” is someone who wants to ruin our fun to satisfy his own incomprehensible and arbitrary standards. And the reward of the so-called righteous is to spend eternity with this “God”? Some who believe in this “God” are plagued with guilt while they wonder for their whole lives if they’re good enough to pass the test. Others are instead filled with self-righteous assurance that they’re in the spiritual “in-crowd” who are justified in condemning and hating those who are not like them, those who happen to commit sins that are less “acceptable” than their own. This is the “God” the atheists quite justifiably do not believe in. And I don’t believe in him, either.

If we read the Scripture with the eyes of our Orthodox faith, then we see a rather different picture of God. To be sure, one of the images that Scripture gives us of the reality of sin is of a crime against a law. But this is only one image, and it is by no means the dominant one. So how are we as Orthodox Christians to understand the purpose and nature of our Christian faith? Who is God, if He is not the arbitrary and capricious judge?


When we look at the New Testament especially, we see the word save being used again and again. Salvation is clearly the goal of the Christian. But what does it mean to be saved? Is it only a question of whether we go to Heaven when we die? If we believe that, then we are essentially embracing the image of “God” that we have been talking about—that faith is about rewards and punishments. It ultimately does not much matter how we spend most of our time, so long as we have fulfilled certain obligations. But this is not what it means to be saved according to the Orthodox faith.

The Orthodox Christian understands the full meaning of the word saved. The Greek verb sozo, which gets translated as “save,” is also the word used by doctors to refer to what they do for their patients. That is, in the Bible, to be “saved” is to be healed. Christianity is really not a faith about rewards and punishments. It’s about personal transformation. It’s about lives changing to become what they were meant to be. It’s about becoming whole human beings, filled with the energy of God Himself. This is what it means to be forgiven of our sins, not simply that we are declared “not guilty” of a crime, but rather that the power of sin no longer can affect us.

In today’s reading from the ninth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus heals a paralytic. Have you ever noticed how often He healed people? Once again, in Greek, when He heals someone, He’s saving them. In this account, Jesus explicitly links forgiveness of sins with healing. First, He tells the paralytic that his sins are forgiven, and then seeing the disbelief of the scribes, He heals the man of his physical paralysis, and he gets up and walks.

When we ask God to forgive our sins, this is what we are asking for. We are asking for healing. And when someone is healed, his life is changed. He has new strength and new abilities. And yet many of us who say we believe in Christ seem to want our sins to be pronounced forgiven, but we want to remain unhealed, continuing to lie in our spiritual paralysis, living life just as we always have. Is it any wonder that when we live in such a way, the atheists see Christianity as a big joke?

Christian life is not about rewards and punishments, but about transformation of the whole human person, changing each day to become more and more like Jesus Christ. This is why in confession we bring real, specific sins to the Great Physician to ask Him to heal us of them. This is why when we receive Holy Communion, it is “unto remission of sins and life everlasting.” Everlasting life is not just about living in Heaven when we die, but of experiencing and showing forth Eternity even in this life.

Our relationship with Jesus Christ is not something we’re going to begin when we die. It is something we are living now. We need to be healed now, so that we will have the strength to live in the Kingdom when it comes in all its fullness. Life in the Kingdom is not for spiritual wimps.

When we go to the doctor, he tells us what we need to do to be healed, and the Lord Jesus does the very same. In today’s epistle reading from Second Timothy, St. Paul gives us three images of what it means to live life as a Christian: the soldier, the athlete and the farmer.

The soldier, he says, casts off the cares of this world in order that he may focus on life as a warrior. We as Orthodox Christians enlisted into Christ’s army are no longer civilians, so we can no longer behave as secular people, making material gain our primary concern. Rather, we constantly train and exercise our spiritual muscles, putting on spiritual weapons and armor. We do this by prayer, fasting, repenting of our sins, coming to the sacraments frequently, and coming to be trained in spiritual life in the divine services of the Church.

St. Paul tells us that the athlete who wishes to be crowned, that is, to win the reward of his labors at the end of the race, can only do so by competing according to the rules. We don’t get to make up our own rules for what it means to live as Christians. If we want to share in God’s life and to be healed of our sins, we can only do so if we follow what the Doctor tells us.

Finally, Paul tells us that the hardworking farmer will be the first to partake of the crops. It is only he who genuinely labors in the life of Christ who will experience its fruit.

When people look at us, do they see Christians who like soldiers have put off the concerns of this world in order to focus on being warriors of Christ? Do they see spiritual athletes, who run the race according to the rules and not according to our own preferences? And do they see genuinely hardworking farmers who cultivate spiritual crops? All of these images are active and dynamic. None of them are images of people who are merely pronounced “not guilty.” These are strong, healthy images of whole, healthy people who are being changed by Christ.


Today we celebrate the feast of St. Panteleimon, who is known primarily for one thing: healing. Here was a man who brought Christ’s healing to the souls and bodies of everyone he met and who eventually gave up his life in martyrdom as a result. Do we also have such faith that we are so consumed with Jesus Christ that even death cannot frighten us? This is what it means to be Christians, to be continually participating in the healing of Jesus Christ, always looking for ways to become truly perfect. If we do this, then how can we ever condemn others? How can we ever look at anyone else’s suffering from sin and think of ourselves as “better”? And how can we ever be satisfied with a merely legal image of God, when we can actually experience so much more?

May we therefore truly know the grace and healing of our Lord, God and Savior Jesus Christ, to Whom is due all glory, honor and worship, with His Father and Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

Their sound hath gone forth...

While I've been exceedingly delinquent in providing you with another podcast episode of my own (insert standard excuses and reasons here), this past weekend, I had the privilege of being on real, live radio. A college friend of mine invited me to be on Episode 129 of The Nightsound Show. It was a great experience, actually (and not just because I was declared that week's "Community Badass").

You can download and hear the podcast of the episode itself here. I'm in the first half.

Ten Years

Today marks my tenth anniversary as an Orthodox Christian, so perhaps I may indulge in a small bit of introspection here at this transitional weekend between Great Lent and Holy Week.

I almost can't quite remember myself as a 22-year-old. To be sure, I remember, but what I remember almost seems like it was someone else. I hope, of course, that that means I've progressed in the ten years since then, but one can never quite know, short of a Road-to-Damascus type of moment. I think we all tend to believe that who we are now is better than who we've been.

I think the main effect that occurs to me these days is that I cannot imagine being anything other than an Orthodox Christian. The first 22 years of my life were marked by another kind of religion—not just another "denomination," but really and truly a different faith entirely. Much of the vocabulary is the same, certainly, but the experience is entirely different.

I don't think that ten years ago I could have imagined myself where I am now, as a parish priest in West Virginia. Mind you, like most young men I've known converting to the ancient Christian faith, I did think about the priesthood. But I don't think I really thought that this is where I'd be. At the time, I was still aimed somewhere in the general direction of the NYC theatre scene (which I've never yet experienced firsthand, to date), and then shortly thereafter for the professorship in the English literature realm. I often get asked when I knew that I wanted to become a priest (at least, enough to do something about it), but I really can't remember. It obviously happened sometime after the high point of my wanting to be an English professor.

I still have a few friends from that time who have been with me for the whole journey and even joined me in the journey just a few months later. You know who you are, and I'm grateful.

I can say with honesty that I'm more confirmed than ever that the Orthodox Christian faith is where I want to be, where I'm supposed to be. Of course, I believe everyone's supposed to be there, but that's not the same as that same everyone realizing and reifying that for themselves. I think I'm more patient on that note than I was ten years ago, willing to let God sort out those people and bring them to where they can hear the Gospel.

One thing I must remark on is that, whenever I stand at the altar, I know beyond what can be described that that is where I must be. Nowhere else am I more present. I pray that God may give everyone that sort of experience, that they may really and genuinely be home and at home.

Another thing that occurs to me to mention is that I remember vaguely ten years ago that I knew everything there was to know about the Orthodox Christian faith. Now, though, I feel as though I'm just beginning. That's a bit of a cliché, I know, but it's really true. I feel now as though I am just now ready to begin my education (from Latin educare, "to be led forth") as an Orthodox Christian. I'm just happy to be here.

Ironical observations

This may seem a touch ironic, especially to those who know me well at all, but I think I am, for the first time in some years, beginning to like poetry again. I find myself picking up books I bought while in college which I bought mainly because I thought I ought to have those books, but now I am actually bothering to read them. And I like them and am glad I bought them. The same seems to be true for theology books, too. I don't think I genuinely enjoyed a single theological work while in seminary.

There is something about the forced labor camps of official education which seems to kill my experience of literature. While in both college and seminary, I occasionally stole brief, furtive enjoyment of literature, especially history or Tolkien, but it quickly was buried beneath the fact of it all being work. The same seems to hold true of church services, even. While in seminary, there was much talk of "requirement" when it came to church. How awful. Now, I stand at the altar every day because I love to.

Freedom does wonderful things for one's poetic sensibilities. There must be some way do to serious study and yet retain freedom. It's too bad it's so elusive and so very much based on one's personality, at least in this cultural world. These days, I can drink my glass of wine and read my Longfellow or R.S. Thomas or Behr or Runciman, and there's no one to say I have to keep on it, that I have to produce something based on it, that I have to do any of it at all. There's just love for the words.

Joy!

Nativity, Theophany, and the practical priestly ramifications thereof

As you may guess from the subject line, it's been quite a busy world hereabouts lately. We're in the midst of house blessing season, and that coupled with the usual moderately high level of busyness that is life in our cathedral community has left me with less time or energy for avocations, such as podcasting. I hope to get another episode put together in a week or two.

CITM Podcast Episode #6: Christmas Special

You can now download Episode #6 of the Christ in the Mountains Podcast, my Christmas special for 2007. This episode's main feature is a discussion on Christmas with the Archpriest Olof H. Scott, Dean of St. George Orthodox Cathedral in Charleston, West Virginia (essentially my boss!), as well as my favorite hymn for the feast.

Get it! (RSS)

CITM Podcast Episode #5

Episode #5 of the podcast can now be downloaded. Its main feature is the second half of a chat with my friend Symeon Kees on the topic of beauty in the Orthodox Christian life, further developing and deepening our discussion. This episode also includes an "on the go" segment, in which I head to see the symphony.

Get it! (RSS)

No Fairy Tale

A friend suggested that I pass this sermon on to you. It was originally preached on Sunday, November 25th, 2007.


In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, one God. Amen.

When I was a kid, my favorite stories were always fairy tales. I loved books about knights and dragons and great battles, bravery, chivalry, heroism, the rescue of fair maidens from evil beasts.

The formula was always the same: a beautiful young maiden was being held in some distant kingdom against her will, whether it was by an evil wizard, her tyrannical father, or some foul magical beast. A young and handsome hero, perhaps the son of a king, perhaps a humble farm boy, learns of the plight of the maiden and goes to rescue her. Along the way, he encounters all sorts of obstacles, but with his stout heart and manly courage, he overcomes the evil and gets the girl. And maybe he even becomes king.

So let me tell you one of these stories. You may notice, however, that the formula is somewhat different.

Many centuries ago, there lived the daughter of a king. She was renowned everywhere for her beauty, wealth, fame and wisdom. Because of these qualities, and most certainly because of her father’s position, her hand in marriage was desired by many men, both humble and great. She declared, however, that she would only marry a man who surpassed her in all the facets of her magnificence.

Her mother knew of such a man, but also knowing that the man would not receive the approval of the princess’s father, she secretly took the girl to see a wise elder who lived in a cave in the desert. The old man told the girl about the great man whom her mother wished her to meet, how his beauty was more radiant than the sun, his wealth beyond all measure, his fame eternal, and his wisdom deeper, more awesome, and beyond comprehension than the numberless stars.

Intrigued, the princess began to ponder on the existence of such a man, and stood in vigil all night desiring to see him. Eventually, a vision came to her of the man, and she was dazzled by his greatness in every respect. But to her great consternation, he turned away from her, saying that she was too ugly, poor, lowly and foolish for him. In tears, she returned to the old man to ask what she should do.


At this point, I must tip my hand on this story. This is no fairy tale, but is a true story. The glorious young man seen by the princess was none other than Jesus Christ Himself, and as you may now imagine, her mother was secretly a Christian, and the old man in the desert was one of the holy elders we read about in Church history.

The elder, learning what the girl said to him regarding her vision of Christ, told her that she was unacceptable to Him because she had not been clothed with the grace of holy baptism and chrismation. He then instructed her in the Christian life and received her into the Church through the holy mysteries. Again, she had a vision of Christ, but this time He gave her a ring, a symbol of her spiritual marriage to the heavenly Bridegroom of the Church. After that, she devoted herself exclusively to Christ and would not marry any man.

In the old fairy tales, this would be the end of the story, where the handsome prince gets the girl and they live happily ever after. But this story’s a bit different.

One day, the emperor himself came to the city where the princess lived to celebrate a pagan feast day. During the feast, the girl boldly confronted the emperor and confessed Christ to him. The pagan emperor was dazzled by the physical beauty of the princess and by the keen intellect she displayed, and desiring her for himself, he summoned fifty of his wisest philosophers to argue with her and show her the superiority of pagan wisdom over the teachings of the Orthodox Christian faith.

During the debate that followed, not only did the girl easily defeat the foolishness of those who thought they were wise, but persuaded them also to become Christians. Furious, the emperor commanded that the former philosophers be burnt alive for their faith in Christ, which they accepted with joy, knowing that their martyrdom was the seal of their salvation.

The emperor again attempted to win the princess for himself by offering her riches and fame, but as you may imagine, she scorned such things, having already joined herself to the eternal Bridegroom to Whom belongs the whole universe. In retaliation, the emperor threw her into prison and had her tortured. While in prison, the girl was visited by the empress, who was curious about this young woman who had stood up to her husband. Immediately, the girl preached the gospel to the empress and a general who accompanied her, along with the entire detachment of soldiers who were with him.

The emperor became all the more enraged and ordered the princess’s execution, but as she was about to be brutally tortured and broken upon a specially constructed wheel, an angel came and destroyed the wheel before she could be harmed. At witnessing this, the empress, the general and soldiers with them all converted to the faith of Christ.
The emperor once again tried to entice the girl, offering her marriage once again. She again refused and declared her perpetual fidelity to the heavenly Bridegroom. After doing so, she laid her own neck down and was beheaded.

The year was 310. The saint is the Great-martyr Catherine the All-wise of Alexandria, whose feast day is today. Some time later, her relics were miraculously transported to the monastery which sits at the foot of the holy mountain of Sinai. She still wears the ring. She was 18 years old when she died for the sake of a love beyond anything we could ever ask or think.


The life of St. Catherine is no fairy tale. This is a true story about an 18 year old girl who fell so deeply in love with her Savior Jesus Christ that she could think of nothing else. In the communion she shared with Him, she was able to confound with her wisdom a small army of philosophers, to convert the empress and hardened military men, and to battle with and defeat the emperor of Rome himself in a struggle for the purity of her soul. Truly, God is wondrous in His saints.

You can see that this is a story that goes far beyond any fairy tale or even just an account about a girl with a healthy dose of spunk. This is way beyond spunk, way beyond even the sort of courage that a knight in shining armor could work up within himself. St. Catherine’s heroism is supernatural.

But supernatural heroism is not just for story books. St. Catherine possessed it because she entered into and maintained a supernatural relationship with the God-man Jesus Christ. Often when we hear the Gospel message, if we prefer to remain in our sins and imperfections, then what we hear is a message of criticism or condemnation. We may even get angry.

But if we hear the Gospel as it’s intended, that is, as a call to what is best in us, a call to our deep and staggeringly broad potential, then we, too, will be filled with divine energy from on high. During this holy season of preparation for the Nativity of Christ, let us run to our Lord with a passionate, overwhelming love, having the courage to put behind us all our sins, all of our selfishness, all of our spiritual ugliness. And in doing so, we will be filled with the beauty, power, freedom and love that belong to the very God of all Creation.

To Him therefore be all glory, honor and worship, to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

Legaturae

I've been doing some long-delayed catching up in my online reading, and I've recently discovered the witty and eloquent Second Terrace weblog by Fr. Jonathan Tobias, a priest of the American Carpatho-Russian Orthodox Diocese (a jurisdiction with the jaunty acronym ACROD) who serves in Pittsburgh. A couple posts (among many) worth reading:

• Megaresy is on why the mega-churches and their approach to "worship" (something that the Apostles would doubtless have been baffled at) will always be more popular than the Cross.
  
  
• Why There Is No Revival is a discussion of the pitfalls of revivalism in comparison with the Apostolic faith, couched in terms of a complaint against someone who scrawled commentary in one of the parish wedding service books.

In other news, the podcast seems to have been received fairly well thus far. I appreciate all our listeners and even more appreciate the comments that have been either posted here or emailed to me. Look for the second part of my chat with Symeon on the nature of beauty to be available this coming Monday.

CITM Podcast Episode #4

The long-awaited (okay, one extra week) fourth episode of the Christ in the Mountains podcast is now available for download. It's centered on the first half of a chat with my friend Symeon Kees on the topic of beauty in the Orthodox Christian life.

(And I, of course, include clips from the Swedish bluegrass band.)

Get it! (RSS)

CITM Podcast Episode #3

The third episode of the Christ in the Mountains podcast is now available for download. It includes the second segment of the two part interview I conducted with Fr. Alban Waggener of Holy Trinity Orthodox Mission (Western Rite) in Lynchburg, Virginia. I also include a brief meditation on the spermatikos Logos of St. Justin Martyr and how one can hear God in a pop song.

(And I, of course, include clips from the Swedish bluegrass band.)

Get it! (RSS)

Podcasting subscriptions

I've updated the location of the feed for subscriptions to the podcast. You can now get it here, which should provide support for iTunes, Zune, etc.

CITM Podcast Episode #2

You can now download the second episode of the Christ in the Mountains podcast. This episode includes the first part of my interview of Fr. Alban Waggener, a friend of mine and fellow priest of our deanery who serves at Holy Trinity Orthodox Mission (Western Rite) in Lynchburg, Virginia. Fr. Alban describes his own path to the Orthodox Church, and I also include a meditation on the encounter of Christ in the Paschal mystery in both Eastern and Western Orthodox traditions.

(And I also include clips from a Swedish bluegrass band.)

Get it! (RSS)

CITM Podcast Episode #1

I've edited together the first episode of the Christ in the Mountains podcast. In this episode, I chat with Fr. Noah Bushelli, a friend of mine who serves at St. Philip's in Souderton, Pennsylvania, focusing on the topic of wonder and its place in the Christian life. I also include a short meditation based on a previous post from this weblog.

(And I also include clips from a Swedish bluegrass band.)

Get it!

Update: Here's the RSS feed.

A Shift in Focus

I've decided to shift the focus of this weblog a bit—the experiment in group authorship didn't quite take off as well as I'd hoped, so I've removed that feature. I'm also possibly going to be delving into some podcasting.

We shall see!

Arise, O Lord, Thou and the Ark of Thy holiness

The Nativity of the Theotokos, September 8, 2007
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, one God. Amen.

In the Book of Exodus, after the Hebrew people left the land of Egypt, they wandered in the desert for some forty years before they finally came to the Promised Land. During this time, they met with God on the holy mountain of Sinai. There, they worshiped God by offering up sacrifices to Him. One of these sacrifices is described in the 24th chapter of Exodus, and then the next passage is dedicated to a meeting that took place between God and the Prophet Moses.

Moses ascends up the mountain to meet with God, and there God gives Moses some very detailed instructions regarding worship. Everything is there for how to construct the mobile worship space for the Hebrews, called the Tabernacle, including details on dimensions, building materials, tapestries, specific designs for iconography, what the priests should wear, and so on. Anyone who takes the time to read chapters 25 through 29 of Exodus could never come away with the impression that God does not care about the details of how we worship Him.

The first chapter with these instructions is dedicated to an object which is at the very center of the Tabernacle, the Ark of the Covenant. The Ark was a large wooden chest covered with gold and adorned with images of angels. On it was a golden throne called the Mercy Seat. Eventually the Ark was used to contain several holy objects, including the tablets of the Ten Commandments, a bowl of the manna God sent down from heaven to feed the Hebrews, and the miraculously budding staff of Aaron, the brother of Moses.

The Ark was a throne where God communed with His people. It was so holy that to touch it unworthily was to die. It was at the very center of Hebrew worship of the One True God, and it was sometimes even carried into battle with them to bring the power of God to bear in the face of Israel's enemies. The Old Testament Scriptures mention the Ark a number of times, and several rare scriptural expressions are used when referring to the Ark.

When we come to the New Testament, we see a repeat of some of these rare expressions of language, but this time, this language refers not to the Ark, not to the Temple in Jerusalem, nor to any other object. Rather, this language is used when referring to Mary, the Mother of Jesus Christ, the One True God. When the Gospel writers wanted to refer to the Virgin, they realized by the power of the inspiration of the Holy Spirit that all the symbolism and real power that surrounded the Ark of the Old Covenant now had been transferred to the Ark of the New Covenant, the Virgin Mary herself, the Theotokos.

This is why when we come to the feasts of the Mother of God, such as we celebrate today, we often hear in the hymns quotations from the Old Testament referring to the Ark of the Covenant. In the Virgin Mary, we approach the new Ark of the New Covenant, no longer a lifeless golden box but a living, breathing human being who mystically and physically contained within herself the Everlasting God of the Universe.

In the Old Testament, to approach the Ark of the Covenant was to approach the Lord God Himself. This was not because God could be contained within a golden box, but rather because God chose that golden box as a place of utmost holiness and divine presence on Earth. There on that Mercy Seat God communed with His people in a powerful, mystical way. And now the Lord has approached us once again, but the locus of His coming to Earth is a human woman.

And just as the Ark of the Old Covenant was carefully constructed and prepared by human hands, so, too, was the new Ark carefully prepared. But instead of the preparation of carpenters and goldsmiths, the preparation of the Virgin Mary was by her quiet and humble obedience to and cooperation with the will of God.

This is why we honor the Virgin Mary, not because we want to elevate her to the status of a goddess and worship her, but because she is the carefully prepared vessel which bore the God of the Universe, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, the Son of God, Jesus Christ. Through her came our salvation. Through her came a new life for every human being and the whole world. Through her came union between God and man.

Therefore, we approach her today and venerate her on her birthday because we desire to approach and come close to the Son of God. We respect her and sing about her glory because that glory is the glory of the awesome God. We call upon her here at the center of our worship just as the Hebrews placed the old Ark at the center of theirs, not because she or a golden box are to be the object of worship, but because the Ark is the place of worship, because the Ark of the Old Covenant and now the Ark of the New Covenant are the place where God has chosen to draw near to His people.

As we look upon the icon of the Holy Virgin, we see that she points us to her Son. Today, as we celebrate her birth into this world, may we hear her call to draw near to her holy Son. As we gaze upon the glory that surrounds her as more honorable than the cherubim and more glorious beyond compare than the seraphim, may we be drawn into a true encounter with that glory, the glory which is God's and may also be ours if we are in union and communion with Him, just as she is.

To the Holy Trinity therefore be all glory, honor and worship, to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

Book Review: The Mountain of Silence by Kyriacos Markides

I just finished reading The Mountain of Silence: A Search for Orthodox Spirituality by Kyriacos Markides, a popular work (both in the sense of being a popularization and also in terms of its success in sales) on Orthodox spirituality, particularly centered in the practice of Athonite monasticism. In commenting on it, I won't bother giving the usual sorts of review elements, such as a synopsis of the book (you can get that elsewhere). What I will give are my critical remarks in reading it.

I regard this book as very good... as far as it goes. Its main problem is that, overall, it offers an examination of spirituality without Christ. Mind you, I don't know whether the author (and certainly not the main subject of the book, "Fr. Maximos"!) had this intention, but it came across to me as a serious blindspot in the book's presentation of Orthodox spirituality.

Much is made of the Threefold Way and the mystical-ascetical tradition of the Orthodox Church, and that is good. Generally, this is the stuff that many Christians are missing and need. But there is a decided lack of integration of this presentation of Orthodox tradition with the central reality of the Christian life, namely, Jesus Christ the God-man. Certainly, the reader can come away with some mind-blowing revelations regarding the supra-rationality of Orthodox mystical tradition and the application of that tradition to the life of every Christian, but I think the author rather assumes that the reader already knows Jesus in some sense and doesn't bother to bring Him into the picture. Or perhaps he doesn't see Christ's centrality to the Church.

I very much doubt that the relative absence of Christ is something that "Fr. Maximos" (a pseudonym for Fr. Athanasius, now Metropolitan of Limassol in Cyprus) communicated to Markides. Anyone who has had any contact with authentic Athonite monasticism knows that such monks are "all about Jesus," to put it colloquially. There certainly is much discussion of God, the Holy Spirit and grace in the book, but Christ, Who is the Door to Paradise, is hardly mentioned. One would have a hard time getting the impression from The Mountain of Silence that the very object and purpose of all this spirituality is Christ.

I did like the book, but in thinking about the manner in which it was recommended to me, i.e., as a sort of catechism, I would have to disagree with such a recommendation. I would not present this book to any catechumen, because I would be concerned that he would become enamored of discussing the Ecclesia, plani, and logismoi, without any sense of where these realities fit into the life in Christ.

A lesser criticism I have of the book is focused on chapter 11, Escape From Hell. In it, Markides all but endorses the apokatastasis theories of certain writers in Church history. That is, he seems to put forward a belief that eventually everyone will be saved, basing it on what is a decidedly minority stream of theological opinion of some Orthodox Christians. I much more prefer Metr. Kallistos Ware's "Dare we hope for the salvation of all?" approach, such as is found in the last chapter of The Inner Kingdom. Markides doesn't quite claim that apokatastasis is Orthodox doctrine, but he also doesn't make it clear enough that this is simply his opinion.

All in all, the book is useful in that it presents a fairly easily digestible picture of some of the more difficult concepts in Orthodox Christian spirituality, but because of its defects as noted above, I would only recommend it to someone already catechized, while giving them the caveats I've elucidated here.

I have a friend who says that she came to Orthodoxy by falling in love with the Church, but now she finds that she hadn't yet fallen in love with Christ. This book could easily enable just that sort of phenomenon. But for someone who is in love with Christ and keeps that in mind, this book might help bring them closer to Him. The first step, the path, and the destination are all Christ.


After writing this, I find through some Googling that Kh. Frederica Mathewes-Green feels similarly: "By the way, a good book that gives an 'inside view' of what this spirituality is like in practice, with all its 'spirit-filled' elements, is 'Mountain of Silence' by Kyriacos Markides. I should warn that the author is coming from a very idiosyncratic place; he is a sociology professor who has come to fervent belief in miracles, evil spirits, theosis, and he is profoundly in awe of the wisdom of the Orthodox Church. What he doesn't get so much is Jesus. In his subsequent book he makes it even more clear that he thinks we need a version of Orthodox spirituality that acknowledges that it is divisive to insist on the necessity of Jesus Christ, and recognizes the universality of the path to enlightenment. Strange, isn't it? Lots of people say, 'I like Jesus but I have no use for the church'—he's the opposite."