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Monday, July 09, 2007
Its a Dog's Life
A Visit to St. Anthony's (Mostly a Slide Show)
This past weekend, my eldest and I took the part of pilgrims. We went to the Arizona desert and visited St. Anthony's Monastery . It was quite an adventure, traveling through the Sonoran desert
The Monastery depicts itself as an oasis in the desert. That is really quite an understatement.
It is also a spiritual oasis, with the opportunity to have your confession heard, and receive counsel from, one of two elders. Elder Ephraim is the founder of this monastery as well as 16 others in the U.S. He is the former abbot of Philotheou Monastery on Mount Athos . The story of his bringing Athonite Monasticism to the U.S. is fascinating. Unfortunately, I don't know of a good site on the story off the top of my head. He is extremely hard to see, although we did get an opportunity to receive his blessing several times. We did get to meet with Elder Paisius, the abbot of St. Anthony's. I've had my confession heard several times over the years, and our current parish priest is a great confessor. However, nothing quite compares with meeting with an Elder. He didn't say a whole lot, but did offer some good advice, and merely being in the presence of such holiness was refreshing. Just based on our short time together, I feel the urge to change a number of things about my current practices and behaviors. I'm not sure if he is effectively our spiritual father, or if that needs to wait for a bit to see how things go, but I do intend for him to be mine.
Most of the photos, I've posted here . I took photos of the interior and exterior of most of the Churches and chapels on the grounds. I didn't get pictures of the inside of St. George, because originally I thought I'd have time after the Liturgy on Sunday (which is usually held at St. George), but then found out we would be going straight to a formal breakfast with the monks (cold scrambled eggs, fries, and feta cheese - quite tasty after 4+ hours of Church). My favorite chapel was St. Seraphim, which was a pretty little open air chapel. If we had room at our house, I'd want one in the back yard as a place to pray and meditate.
The schedule of the Monastery is roughly this: Confessions from 2:30 to 5, Vespers from 4 - 5, Dinner from 5 - 5:30, Compline until 6, Free time until 7:30, then quiet time. Usually, we all head off to bed as we need to be up early. A monk comes by the rooms at about 2 a.m. to awaken everyone for the Midnight Hour followed by Orthros (Matins). This usually lasts until about 3:30. Then we have Divine Liturgy until around 5, off to breakfast, then quiet time for three hours (aka sleep). Lunch on weekdays is at 12:30 with the Monks. Sunday is somewhat similar, except that Orthros lasts longer, and breakfast is with the Monks (during the weekdays, breakfast is mostly a continental type thing). Also, there is no lunch on Sundays.
The Guesthouse has a common area which is well stocked with snacks and drinks. Most of the snacks are prepared by the Monks (including a fresh baked peach pie while we were there). When one stays a bit longer, it is normal for the Monks to ask you to help out with various chores around the Monastery. Joshua is looking forward to helping with the vineyard the next time we're out.
The Monks are all wonderful. Very friendly, but very quiet and contemplative. As they move about the grounds you often hear the soft "Kyrie eleison" as they do their prayer rule. I always expect Monks to be stern and somewhat aloof, but all of these Monks are really not like that at all.
I'll close this post with a picture of the Arizonitsa, a special Icon commissioned just for St. Anthony's. All of the necklaces, etc., are gifts and offerings left by the faithful over the years.
Joshua is already asking when we can go back. I'm hoping its soon. It was interesting to note how utterly foreign the outside world felt as we departed the Monastery. I much preferred the world inside.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Nationalism and the Church
Sunday, July 01, 2007
The Struggle for Communion
Its a Dog's Life
As we are considering getting a (expensive)
pooch, I'd like to provide a few pictures of what we're looking at, which is an
Entlebucher Sennenhund , or the smallest of the
Swiss Mountain Dogs.
We were recently privileged to attend the Entlefest by the Sea in Chula Vista, which provided me the opportunity to meet with some breeders, and the children to meet with the dogs
. The
dogs are amazingly intelligent, and quite active. I think a wonderful match for
our family. We'll see if we can afford this after the remodel is done. Here
are some of the dogs during one of the standards
competitions:
We were recently privileged to attend the Entlefest by the Sea in Chula Vista, which provided me the opportunity to meet with some breeders, and the children to meet with the dogs
. The
dogs are amazingly intelligent, and quite active. I think a wonderful match for
our family. We'll see if we can afford this after the remodel is done. Here
are some of the dogs during one of the standards
competitions:
A Visit to St. Anthony's (Mostly a Slide Show)
This past weekend, my eldest and I took the part of pilgrims. We went to the Arizona desert and visited St. Anthony's Monastery . It was quite an adventure, traveling through the Sonoran desert
The Monastery depicts itself as an oasis in the desert. That is really quite an understatement.
It is also a spiritual oasis, with the opportunity to have your confession heard, and receive counsel from, one of two elders. Elder Ephraim is the founder of this monastery as well as 16 others in the U.S. He is the former abbot of Philotheou Monastery on Mount Athos . The story of his bringing Athonite Monasticism to the U.S. is fascinating. Unfortunately, I don't know of a good site on the story off the top of my head. He is extremely hard to see, although we did get an opportunity to receive his blessing several times. We did get to meet with Elder Paisius, the abbot of St. Anthony's. I've had my confession heard several times over the years, and our current parish priest is a great confessor. However, nothing quite compares with meeting with an Elder. He didn't say a whole lot, but did offer some good advice, and merely being in the presence of such holiness was refreshing. Just based on our short time together, I feel the urge to change a number of things about my current practices and behaviors. I'm not sure if he is effectively our spiritual father, or if that needs to wait for a bit to see how things go, but I do intend for him to be mine.
Most of the photos, I've posted here . I took photos of the interior and exterior of most of the Churches and chapels on the grounds. I didn't get pictures of the inside of St. George, because originally I thought I'd have time after the Liturgy on Sunday (which is usually held at St. George), but then found out we would be going straight to a formal breakfast with the monks (cold scrambled eggs, fries, and feta cheese - quite tasty after 4+ hours of Church). My favorite chapel was St. Seraphim, which was a pretty little open air chapel. If we had room at our house, I'd want one in the back yard as a place to pray and meditate.
The schedule of the Monastery is roughly this: Confessions from 2:30 to 5, Vespers from 4 - 5, Dinner from 5 - 5:30, Compline until 6, Free time until 7:30, then quiet time. Usually, we all head off to bed as we need to be up early. A monk comes by the rooms at about 2 a.m. to awaken everyone for the Midnight Hour followed by Orthros (Matins). This usually lasts until about 3:30. Then we have Divine Liturgy until around 5, off to breakfast, then quiet time for three hours (aka sleep). Lunch on weekdays is at 12:30 with the Monks. Sunday is somewhat similar, except that Orthros lasts longer, and breakfast is with the Monks (during the weekdays, breakfast is mostly a continental type thing). Also, there is no lunch on Sundays.
The Guesthouse has a common area which is well stocked with snacks and drinks. Most of the snacks are prepared by the Monks (including a fresh baked peach pie while we were there). When one stays a bit longer, it is normal for the Monks to ask you to help out with various chores around the Monastery. Joshua is looking forward to helping with the vineyard the next time we're out.
The Monks are all wonderful. Very friendly, but very quiet and contemplative. As they move about the grounds you often hear the soft "Kyrie eleison" as they do their prayer rule. I always expect Monks to be stern and somewhat aloof, but all of these Monks are really not like that at all.
I'll close this post with a picture of the Arizonitsa, a special Icon commissioned just for St. Anthony's. All of the necklaces, etc., are gifts and offerings left by the faithful over the years.
Joshua is already asking when we can go back. I'm hoping its soon. It was interesting to note how utterly foreign the outside world felt as we departed the Monastery. I much preferred the world inside.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Nationalism and the Church
I've fired up my album of Patriotic Music as I
write this entry. I have to admit to loving the various patriotic songs and
hymns we get to hear around the 4th of July. The question in front of me today,
however, is would I like to hear this music in Church. More specifically, do I
think its appropriate.
This morning I received an e-mail from an Anglican Music blogger , with the following statement: "I argue to you that the Greek and Serbian and Russian orthodox churches are too nationalistic. And then in my blog I go and argue in favor of nationalist hymns in the COE and ECUSA worship. So I guess you can skewer me." There are several interesting things worth commenting on. Are the various Orthodox Churches in this country too nationalistic? What is the Orthodox perspective on incorporating hymns reflecting nationalistic sentiments? What do I make of the practice in Western/Protestant denominations?
As a recovering AngloCatholic, I, too, grew up with the singing of various hymns such as the Star Spangled Banner, and America around various national holidays throughout the year. As you may surmise from above, I rather like those tunes. It seems to me that much of the opposition to hymns such as the Star Spangled Banner reflect the strange modern phenomenon of Americans feeling the need for false humility such that they denigrate the U.S. at every opportunity. Most, if not all, of the hymns for national days which have made it into American Anglican worship are there to thank God for His intervention in the founding of this country, and to request His continued intervention. That makes these hymns, frankly, quite consistent with most other hymns of Thanksgiving.
The only difference, and this may prove to be a key one, is that most other hymns are ones that Christians from around the world (assuming they spoke English) would feel comfortable singing. Most other hymns reflect events in salvation history, lives of saints, or God's interactions in our personal lives. The introduction of Nationalistic hymns into worship commits what is considered by many conservative Anglicans to be a significant error, the elimination of common prayer. Put yourself in the 1780's. If you were visiting the U.S. from England, would you feel comfortable singing "Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave"? In reference to you and your countrymen (albeit, this may be more pointed at the Hessians).
So, the argument is raised that these sorts of hymns are traditional, and so they are - within the context of the past 4 - 500 years. Along with the rise of nationalism. Let's look, for a moment, at Orthodoxy and see what a longer tradition provides here. I attend a Greek Orthodox parish . Although it is under the authority of the Ecumenical Patriarch , and not the Archbishop of Greece , it is part of an Archdiocese founded to provide support for the growing number of Greek immigrants. Thus, you would expect that we would sing hymns about Greek independence as part of our service on March 25th (Greek Independence day, as well as the feast of the Annunciation). In fact, there is no such authorized hymn that I'm aware of. I do not believe that there are any hymns sung in honor of the Byzantine empire, the Russian empire, or any other state within Orthodoxy - although certain leaders that have been canonized, such as St. Constantine, have hymns written for them. I will admit that I have only had the smallest glimpse into the entire body of Orthodoxy hymnody, so there may be something I'm missing. The absence of Greek national hymns, though, is telling. On Greek independence day, we do have a big celebration after Divine Liturgy. Greek dancing, food (Lenten in variety, given the date), retelling of history, etc., is the order of the day. On the Sunday before the 4th of July, after the service, the choir sang America, and America the Beautiful as we were receiving the antidoron from our priest and exiting the Church.
So no, as I think about this, and look at the longer traditions, I think maybe it isn't appropriate to sing such hymns during worship. After the service, before the service, or at some special event, it would be absolutely appropriate. Its interesting that in looking at this, we see that the Orthodox churches may, in fact, be less nationalistic. Our church is very Greek, and quite ethnic. We certainly celebrate Greek Independence Day with gusto. But the Divine Liturgy, the Orthros that precedes it? No, those belong to the entire Church, not just the Greeks, or the Serbs, or the Russians.
Are the Orthodox Churches in the U.S. too ethnic? Probably. The ethnicities are what keep the parishes somewhat separate - although there is an increasing amount of effort, especially during Great Lent, spent on worshipping together. So hopefully, over time, we'll come to see our "ethnicity" as being American, and there will be a little less separation.
This morning I received an e-mail from an Anglican Music blogger , with the following statement: "I argue to you that the Greek and Serbian and Russian orthodox churches are too nationalistic. And then in my blog I go and argue in favor of nationalist hymns in the COE and ECUSA worship. So I guess you can skewer me." There are several interesting things worth commenting on. Are the various Orthodox Churches in this country too nationalistic? What is the Orthodox perspective on incorporating hymns reflecting nationalistic sentiments? What do I make of the practice in Western/Protestant denominations?
As a recovering AngloCatholic, I, too, grew up with the singing of various hymns such as the Star Spangled Banner, and America around various national holidays throughout the year. As you may surmise from above, I rather like those tunes. It seems to me that much of the opposition to hymns such as the Star Spangled Banner reflect the strange modern phenomenon of Americans feeling the need for false humility such that they denigrate the U.S. at every opportunity. Most, if not all, of the hymns for national days which have made it into American Anglican worship are there to thank God for His intervention in the founding of this country, and to request His continued intervention. That makes these hymns, frankly, quite consistent with most other hymns of Thanksgiving.
The only difference, and this may prove to be a key one, is that most other hymns are ones that Christians from around the world (assuming they spoke English) would feel comfortable singing. Most other hymns reflect events in salvation history, lives of saints, or God's interactions in our personal lives. The introduction of Nationalistic hymns into worship commits what is considered by many conservative Anglicans to be a significant error, the elimination of common prayer. Put yourself in the 1780's. If you were visiting the U.S. from England, would you feel comfortable singing "Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave"? In reference to you and your countrymen (albeit, this may be more pointed at the Hessians).
So, the argument is raised that these sorts of hymns are traditional, and so they are - within the context of the past 4 - 500 years. Along with the rise of nationalism. Let's look, for a moment, at Orthodoxy and see what a longer tradition provides here. I attend a Greek Orthodox parish . Although it is under the authority of the Ecumenical Patriarch , and not the Archbishop of Greece , it is part of an Archdiocese founded to provide support for the growing number of Greek immigrants. Thus, you would expect that we would sing hymns about Greek independence as part of our service on March 25th (Greek Independence day, as well as the feast of the Annunciation). In fact, there is no such authorized hymn that I'm aware of. I do not believe that there are any hymns sung in honor of the Byzantine empire, the Russian empire, or any other state within Orthodoxy - although certain leaders that have been canonized, such as St. Constantine, have hymns written for them. I will admit that I have only had the smallest glimpse into the entire body of Orthodoxy hymnody, so there may be something I'm missing. The absence of Greek national hymns, though, is telling. On Greek independence day, we do have a big celebration after Divine Liturgy. Greek dancing, food (Lenten in variety, given the date), retelling of history, etc., is the order of the day. On the Sunday before the 4th of July, after the service, the choir sang America, and America the Beautiful as we were receiving the antidoron from our priest and exiting the Church.
So no, as I think about this, and look at the longer traditions, I think maybe it isn't appropriate to sing such hymns during worship. After the service, before the service, or at some special event, it would be absolutely appropriate. Its interesting that in looking at this, we see that the Orthodox churches may, in fact, be less nationalistic. Our church is very Greek, and quite ethnic. We certainly celebrate Greek Independence Day with gusto. But the Divine Liturgy, the Orthros that precedes it? No, those belong to the entire Church, not just the Greeks, or the Serbs, or the Russians.
Are the Orthodox Churches in the U.S. too ethnic? Probably. The ethnicities are what keep the parishes somewhat separate - although there is an increasing amount of effort, especially during Great Lent, spent on worshipping together. So hopefully, over time, we'll come to see our "ethnicity" as being American, and there will be a little less separation.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
The Struggle for Communion
I will, for the first time, actually copy and
past an entire blog entry by Fr. Freeman, as something struck me
about this one, and so I wanted to cross post it
here:
For many Protestants whose Church experience was largely shaped in the past few decades, one of the most disconcerting aspects of a first visit to an Orthodox Church is the fact that not everybody, not all Baptized Christians, are permitted to receive communion. Indeed, communion is restricted to Orthodox Christians who have made preparation to receive (that’s another topic). For some this is a surprise, for others, not, and for still some few, this is a welcome fact. When I first visited in an Orthodox Church I fell into this last group. I did not rejoice that I was not able to take communion, but I rejoiced that I was not allowed to (in the state of schism in which I was living). Someone was saying to me, “There are things in your Christian life that must be addressed before you approach the Cup.” I understood this as healthy.
Indeed the rapid disappearance of communion discipline across much of Christianity in the latter half of the 20th century became as well a rapid re-interpretation of the sacrament and the radical exaltation of the individual over the Church. I have several reflections to offer in this vein.
First - the rapid disappearance of communion discipline meant the disappearance of boundaries. Nothing in the Church any longer said, “No.” With this, the Christian life itself loses definition. “Communion” with Christ becomes a purely subjective event, itself stripped of meaning because of the lack of boundaries. If there is no “No,” neither can there be a “Yes.” The Garden of Eden, paradise of perfection, contained a single “No,” one boundary. And yet that boundary alone defined communion with God. In not eating of that tree, Adam and Eve could live in obedience. Every other meal takes on its meaning of blessed communion because it is eaten in obedience. With the act of disobedience and the destruction of the only boundary given by God, every tree becomes a potential tree of death. Indeed, Holy Communion itself can become a Cup of Death according to St. Paul’s admonitions in 1 Corinthians.
Second - with the abolition of boundaries, communion ceases to be a struggle, and loses the ascesis that is essential to a healthy Christian life. Communion with God is a gift from God - but like the Kingdom of God, the “violent take it by force” (Matt. 11:12). This rather odd verse is a reference to those who pursue God in such a way that it is not inappropriate to use the word “violent” to describe it. St. John the Baptist’s ministry was marked by his fasting and struggles in prayer. It is such efforts that are “violent” in the Christian life. It should be normative in the Christian life that the holy mysteries are approached with ascesis. Rather than approaching God with an attitude of entitlement (”this is my communion”) we approach struggling against sin in our life: repenting, confessing, forgiving, fasting. In a Christian life they are acts of love.
In all of our healthy relationships some level of ascesis is practiced though we rarely reconize it or call it by that name. In marriage we understand that husbands are to “love their wives even as Christ loved the Church” (Eph. 5:25) that is, they are to lay down their lives for them. A marriage built on romantic phrases rather than sacrificial acts of love can all too easily be a marriage destined to fail.
It is not that we earn grace or salvation - I would argue strongly that every effort of “struggle” is itself an effort made possible and infused with grace. But the gift of our salvation should not be likened to a man who never picked up a baseball bat suddenly walking up to the plate at the last out in the ninth inning, facing a pitcher with an ERA below 1 and smacking the baseball deep into the stands in center field. I’ll grant that grace could work like that, but it would be Walt Disney and not Jesus Christ. Thus the God who saves us by grace tells us to “keep my commandments,” and any number of other things. [An exception: the wise thief. Ninth inning. Though even he surely knew a struggle as he fought his way to the words: “Remember me in your kingdom.”] God will not abandon us as we take up that struggle - but struggle we must - for such is the life of grace.
Before I was received into the Orthodox Church, of necessity I took a different “approach” to communion. Attending services I knew that I would not yet be able to approach the Cup. But I kept the fast. From midnight forward I ate nothing. Thus like the rest of the congregation, I sang in hunger as Heaven surrounded us and God gave Himself to us on His most Holy Altar. I could not eat - but I could struggle to eat - I could be hungry.
Hunger is not the fullness of the faith - but, if I may be so bold - it is part of the fullness. And at certain times part of the fullness is more than nothing.
I think this is an important point for much of our life. There is a fullness of the Cup of Salvation that most of us have not yet tasted, even if we come to the Cup each Sunday. I do not yet know the fullness of loving my enemies, or forgiving my friends, or walking without fear (we can each make this part of the list longer). But I can know the fullness of hunger for these things and the daily toil of struggling for them by grace.
And by grace I pray at last to have been brought across that boundary of sin that separates me from others and myself, united to Christ and the liberty that comes from Him alone.
For many Protestants whose Church experience was largely shaped in the past few decades, one of the most disconcerting aspects of a first visit to an Orthodox Church is the fact that not everybody, not all Baptized Christians, are permitted to receive communion. Indeed, communion is restricted to Orthodox Christians who have made preparation to receive (that’s another topic). For some this is a surprise, for others, not, and for still some few, this is a welcome fact. When I first visited in an Orthodox Church I fell into this last group. I did not rejoice that I was not able to take communion, but I rejoiced that I was not allowed to (in the state of schism in which I was living). Someone was saying to me, “There are things in your Christian life that must be addressed before you approach the Cup.” I understood this as healthy.
Indeed the rapid disappearance of communion discipline across much of Christianity in the latter half of the 20th century became as well a rapid re-interpretation of the sacrament and the radical exaltation of the individual over the Church. I have several reflections to offer in this vein.
First - the rapid disappearance of communion discipline meant the disappearance of boundaries. Nothing in the Church any longer said, “No.” With this, the Christian life itself loses definition. “Communion” with Christ becomes a purely subjective event, itself stripped of meaning because of the lack of boundaries. If there is no “No,” neither can there be a “Yes.” The Garden of Eden, paradise of perfection, contained a single “No,” one boundary. And yet that boundary alone defined communion with God. In not eating of that tree, Adam and Eve could live in obedience. Every other meal takes on its meaning of blessed communion because it is eaten in obedience. With the act of disobedience and the destruction of the only boundary given by God, every tree becomes a potential tree of death. Indeed, Holy Communion itself can become a Cup of Death according to St. Paul’s admonitions in 1 Corinthians.
Second - with the abolition of boundaries, communion ceases to be a struggle, and loses the ascesis that is essential to a healthy Christian life. Communion with God is a gift from God - but like the Kingdom of God, the “violent take it by force” (Matt. 11:12). This rather odd verse is a reference to those who pursue God in such a way that it is not inappropriate to use the word “violent” to describe it. St. John the Baptist’s ministry was marked by his fasting and struggles in prayer. It is such efforts that are “violent” in the Christian life. It should be normative in the Christian life that the holy mysteries are approached with ascesis. Rather than approaching God with an attitude of entitlement (”this is my communion”) we approach struggling against sin in our life: repenting, confessing, forgiving, fasting. In a Christian life they are acts of love.
In all of our healthy relationships some level of ascesis is practiced though we rarely reconize it or call it by that name. In marriage we understand that husbands are to “love their wives even as Christ loved the Church” (Eph. 5:25) that is, they are to lay down their lives for them. A marriage built on romantic phrases rather than sacrificial acts of love can all too easily be a marriage destined to fail.
It is not that we earn grace or salvation - I would argue strongly that every effort of “struggle” is itself an effort made possible and infused with grace. But the gift of our salvation should not be likened to a man who never picked up a baseball bat suddenly walking up to the plate at the last out in the ninth inning, facing a pitcher with an ERA below 1 and smacking the baseball deep into the stands in center field. I’ll grant that grace could work like that, but it would be Walt Disney and not Jesus Christ. Thus the God who saves us by grace tells us to “keep my commandments,” and any number of other things. [An exception: the wise thief. Ninth inning. Though even he surely knew a struggle as he fought his way to the words: “Remember me in your kingdom.”] God will not abandon us as we take up that struggle - but struggle we must - for such is the life of grace.
Before I was received into the Orthodox Church, of necessity I took a different “approach” to communion. Attending services I knew that I would not yet be able to approach the Cup. But I kept the fast. From midnight forward I ate nothing. Thus like the rest of the congregation, I sang in hunger as Heaven surrounded us and God gave Himself to us on His most Holy Altar. I could not eat - but I could struggle to eat - I could be hungry.
Hunger is not the fullness of the faith - but, if I may be so bold - it is part of the fullness. And at certain times part of the fullness is more than nothing.
I think this is an important point for much of our life. There is a fullness of the Cup of Salvation that most of us have not yet tasted, even if we come to the Cup each Sunday. I do not yet know the fullness of loving my enemies, or forgiving my friends, or walking without fear (we can each make this part of the list longer). But I can know the fullness of hunger for these things and the daily toil of struggling for them by grace.
And by grace I pray at last to have been brought across that boundary of sin that separates me from others and myself, united to Christ and the liberty that comes from Him alone.