Let every tongue confess

It always feels a bit like Pentecost at my church, since it is made up of speakers of Russian and English. Father's first language is Russian and he gives the sermon in both languages (at different times during the service) and the prayers alternate between English and Church Slavonic. On Pascha, the acclamation "Christ is Risen" and response "Indeed He is Risen" was shouted in those languages and some others. At one point during that service, I was next to Nino, the woman whose husband (of five years) had also been chrismated. She was Georgian and turned to me smiling saying, "He said Christ is Risen in my language!" It gave her such joy to hear her native tongue included in the celebration. I felt joy that this truth rings out and through all languages. The multilingualism provides me with a strong sense of the universal truth of the Gospel. (I don't know why Mr. Crackles feels the opposite: hearing words he does not understand makes him feel excluded.)

Of course, after much repetition, I start to know some of the words. And I do try to learn them. Nino went over the pronunciation with of "Voistinu" a couple times, but it went out of my head, and when the song changes over from English to Slavonic I usually just mouth the words, though sometimes, at home, when I am doing something like taking a shower, I can hear the words and say them a bit. They are rolling around in there. 

At the end of each Liturgy, when parishioners come up to venerate the Cross, Father speaks to them in their language: "Happy Feast," or "Christ is Risen" for me, but on this Sunday he said it in Slavonic: "Hristos Voskrese!" I paused, digging in my mind and lo, it came out: "Voistinu voskrese!" He smiled broadly, very pleased: "You knew it!"

I know learning the language is not as important as learning the meanings of the words and Traditions, but I feel like they confirm each other and it is very exciting!

Another realization about the saints

So I've been praying the morning and evening prayers in the Jordanville prayer book and now I have added the prayers for before and after Communion. I really like doing the ones for after Communion on Monday to keep the memory fresh. It includes lots of prayers like this one: "Make me the temple of Thy Spirit alone, and no longer a habitation of sin: that having become Thy house by receiving Holy Communion, every evil spirit and passion may flee from me like fire." So I started thinking, shouldn't everyone who takes Communion regularly and prays these prayers be different from other people? Well, yes, we should, and in some cases, it did: the saints are proof. When we think of them we know that God does hear these prayers.

My Church has been given this multiplex icon that has forty changeable pages, so that it can show weekly numerous Saints. It seemed a little busy to me, but after I had this realization, I started to appreciate the sense it provides of the many witnesses.  

Intrinsic value

My yoga teacher's comments about all of us having intrinsic value are something I think all Orthodox would agree with. The term may be more useful than the "sanctity of life," which turns off all of those who don't have a sense of the holy, who are the people who create this culture of utility. This world we inhabit makes it very hard to believe we have any value apart from what we produce. Is that a function of capitalism? To a great extent, yes. The need to sell us something makes sellers point out our inadequacies, whether physical or that more ephemeral lack of "success." Orthodoxy also makes us aware of a lack: a lack of holiness, a failure to be the persons Christ intended us to be. The remedy is the Mysteries, received prayerfully. I am just starting to see how the prayers that seemed almost ridiculously self-abasing when I first began to read them are actually pointing us to God's great love for our unique selves, created to be shining saints.

Chrismation on Holy Saturday!

Reader, I married her (the Holy Orthodox Church). I've been planning to write that for what seems like years, and it is  hard to believe the formal process took a bit less than one year. I had to think those words to myself while I was kneeling down and receiving the chrismation because I could not believe it was happening. I felt numb, in a way. I knew I should break my addiction to coffee before this day.  I had been going to Divine Liturgy without food, but had not yet managed to go without coffee. So this was the first time of doing a complete fast before receiving Eucharist. (And I had cut my food intake quite a bit for Holy Week.) The service began at 8 a.m. and had numerous steps and phases: as I result, I felt a bit vague (though I was the one who knew when it was time to take our shoes off) and that we were basically taking a break between the first part, when we did the renunciations and  Manuel was baptized, and the second part, which would take place when the DL began at 9:30, when we would be chrismated. The baptism was quite a sight, seeing that big man dunk three times into this white barrel! He said the water was quite cold. 

Since Manuel was baptized, he needed to be churched, and I guess Father figured Joseph and I might as well be too. Of course he doesn't carry grown-ups! He led us from the back of the church to the various points. The big icon of the crucifixion had been moved to the center aisle in front of the ambo,  partially hiding the Royal Doors. Once behind it and facing the doors, Father directed me to cross myself. Then he took the guys to the right, to enter the altar through the Deacon's doors. I stood there and gave them a little wave. No one, except probably Xenia or others in the choir, saw that. Had he been reading this blog? Did he know I wouldn't flip out at this? Even with all my thinking about it, I did feel a bit awkward (so glad I was only partly visible beyond the Crucifix) and enjoyed the ironic humor of my little wave. I get it. I don't mind. But it's weird. Soon they had come around and we continued. Father said to me, "You will have Eucharist first" and so I did, first in the whole church. I didn't realize that the assistant wiped one's lips and that one kissed the bottom of the chalice but it all went smoothly and there I was: Isidora, having partaken of the Body and Blood I had so long desired. Discovering that the little cup people drink afterwards at the side table contains a mixture of hot water and wine (sweet). 

Having recognized the depth of my caffeine addiction, I did not fast completely after consuming the special blessed bread and wine that followed the Holy Saturday service. I had something more bread to eat, but more importantly, I drank coffee so that I was feeling more alive by the time I returned for the overnight Pascha service. Before I left, I told Mr. Crackles the service would probably consist of a lot of processing around and shouting He is Risen, and that I would see him in the morning. My description was accurate. It was fun and joyful! I was amazed at how much energy and joy Father had, after the long week of services and his strict fasting but he definitely seemed to be enjoying himself and conveyed the delight of discovery of Christ's Resurrection. 

I learned without surprise that there are many "twice a year" attendees, just as in other churches. Well, it is a little more surprising, since the service starts at 11:30 and cradle Orthodox must know it involves lots of standing. But that doesn't stop the two young ladies who were next to me to wear two-inch spike heels, which were off their feet (to my empathetic relief) after about the first hour. She did give me a look or two of "how long does this last?!" and I smiled sympathetically: you have to work up to this. Before offering the Eucharist, Father explained that it was only available for Orthodox who had prepared and I could see he did speak to a couple of the people who were not familiar to him before offering them the Chalice. This time I felt a little more conscious of what I was doing, receiving the Communion for which I had longed.

In the time between services, since I wasn't doing much, I put together my own funky version of a Pascha basket. I even made red hard boiled eggs! After the blessing of the baskets, and the joyful feasting (including drinking the champagne I had brought) I drove safely home, and snuck quietly into bed. It wasn't quite light yet, but I was surprised that my entry had not elicited any sound or movement from Mr. Crackles, and tentatively I moved my hand over to his side. He wasn't there. His car and motorcycle were present, so I knew he was somewhere. Oh well. I slept. In the morning, I tapped gently on the door to the step-daughter's room, which was closed, so I knew he had gone there to sleep. He was furious. He couldn't sleep in our bed, waiting for me, so had gone in there. I was surprised at the intensity of his reaction, since the routine was pretty much the same as Nativity, and he hadn't been upset then. Three things were different. Then, he had his own Christmas service to go to earlier. Emily had been visiting so he wasn't alone in the house. And three, I hadn't yet been chrismated. Though I had kept the event pretty low-key, he did know it was happening, and it made a difference. Perhaps that is testimony to the sacrament. It did effect a change.

Since Mr. Crackles was so upset, I didn't even consider going to the Agape Service at noon on Sunday, which was followed by a feast at Joseph's house, nor to the 9:30 liturgy on Bright Monday. I figured damage control was more important. I made a roast chicken at home, and, as I had a week of being able to cook and eat whatever, he gradually came out of his funk and we returned to our usual détente. He also returned to singing in the choir at the Methodist Church. 

So happy!

This makes me so happy!

His Holiness Patriarch Kirill meets with President Rivlin of the state of Israel.


And confirms that I was right to leave liberal Protestantism , with its growing anti-Israel bias, which is a reflection of their desire to cut themselves off from the root of Christianity. Silly branches.

The exile explained

Yes, reader(s?), I am still on my Orthodox path... just not blogging much.

Today I listened to Father Barnabas Powell's podcast and was struck by his explanation of the Fall of Adam and Eve and God's reaction. Keeping humans away from the Tree of Life after eating of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil was not just because He didn't want the competition of more immortal beings running around (though I guess he did have His hands full with the Angelic Upstairs/Downstairs activities), but because if we had that next piece of fruit, we would be stuck with our knowledge of our sin and no way back to God. The fallen angels cannot repent, and we would not be able to if we were immortal. Our mortality is a mercy.   

Orthodox footnotes

With Morning Prayers I decided to read today's assigned reading from Ephesians (1:16-23) in The Orthodox Study Bible that I am getting acquainted  with. I started at the beginning of the chapter for context and the footnotes helped me to understand how to read this passage Orthodoxly instead of Calvinistically. It's so much more of a hopeful perspective and makes so much more sense. It's not that the Crucifixion was the foundation/purpose of creation, (which would make God a pretty grim figure) but the purpose was making His Creation one with him and holy. Due to our fall, the Crucifixion had to happen, and of course God had to know that, but it was not the first intent; rather, it was  something He allowed, as He allows free will and all its troubles.

It does seem like the footnotes "protesteth" a bit too much against Protestantism, but I suppose they know their audience. For instance, in the footnotes for 1:4-6, they write "Becoming a Christian is not so much inviting Christ into one's life as getting oneself into Christ's life." I know they are talking about the Evangelicals who believe that all they have to do is pray that one prayer and they are "saved" and that is a very insufficient view of salvation. But we do invite Christ into our life. It's in the Orthodox prayers too, everyday we pray "Holy King, Comforter… come and abide in us and cleanse us of every impurity and save us." That is essentially what the Evangelicals pray when they first acknowledge Jesus. And it is oversimplifying their view to say that's all there is to it for them, then they go on with their lives as before. Most of them do change and spend time praying and seeking God's guidance. But for them that is much more of an "extra credit" assignment rather than the essence of salvation, which the Orthodox understand it as being. So it is really a both/and experience. We have to invite Christ in, but that inviting, that opening up, is ongoing and is wheat gets us "into Christ's life." I think.

Where are my clothes?

Last night I had what I thought was a typical where-are-my-clothes-dream.  Won't go into the details, but it involved a river, and what I did have on was white.

Then this morning I read a sermon about the Baptism of Christ and saw the connection. If I had to be baptized in the Orthodox Church I would be clothed in white. And in the old days people were baptized naked and even now, X said, they would wear bathing suits (as I did in the Nazarene Church and am so glad that dimly remembered and partly verified baptism is good enough for Father). So this is not just a typical where-are-my-clothes-dream but rather a dream about my entering into this deeper, cleansing relationship with Christ. Perhaps all our where-are-my-clothes-dreams are re-enactments of Adam and Eve "sneaking around naked in the garden like Adam" and Eve, as Father Philip writes, when we could instead repent and "wear the garment of light that He has given us, […] and embrace the glory of our salvation personally and intentionally." Amen.

Why so much repenting?

I had thought this post on Dreher's blog was too convoluted to read (http://www.theamericanconservative.com/dreher/nominalist-church-ross-douthat-year-zero/ ) but since it was what was open on my laptop this morning, I read it. This morning, the commentary makes a great deal of sense and helps me better understand why Dreher loved Laurus, the novel which I read on his recommendation, and enjoyed, but did not share his sense of awe about. (It just seemed to me like a novelized version of the stories of so many of the saints I read about every day. Nice but why so earth shattering?) The concept of sacramental time, a term he borrows from an Evangelical theologian,( but isn't it really what Kairos means(?)) explains a great deal. Dreher is, as always, using it to explain what is wrong with the liberal, progressive wings of Christianity, but I don't even care about that. I have chosen Orthodoxy. Or rather, Orthodoxy has chosen me. And I can eagerly accept the Communion of Saints—by which I think we mean the continuing presence of those who have died in the flesh—and I wonder—those who are not yet born? Thanks to Doxacon (Orthodox Science Fiction convention), I know I am not alone in viewing the time travel of adventures of Dr. Who as explaining in some way the "wibbly wobbly timey wimey" effect of Christ's crucifixion.

This is important in helping me think about the big whole life confession I will be making when I am chrismated into the Orthodox communion.  Didn't I already repent of all the things I did before my first conversion at age 18? Don't I believe that Jesus has already wiped all those things out, cleaned the slate? And then I did a formal, Episcopal Church confession once to Father Burt, so really, why dredge up the past again? The Evangelicals loved to retell their "testimonies," recounting how bad they were before they repented and I found that got old fast. Why weren't we focusing at least half the time on our current struggle for sanctification (which is what the Wesleyan Nazarenes believe can be achieved and which, I have to admit, is a belief that is much closer to Orthodoxy than I had expected (or wanted, since I had decided perfect sanctification was an unrealistic goal that sets us up for despair)?  

I get that salvation is a journey and not a one-time event, though I worry that can devolve into a Calvinistic fear of "am I elect to be saved"? But this is wrong, according to blogger, Eric Hyde, "repentance does not carry the stigmatism [sic] of dwelling in nagging despair over one’s eternal resting place—the feeling that at any moment one can “lose his salvation”—but [repentance] is rather the power to maintain the gift of God’s grace; as St. Cyril of Jerusalem (cir. 380 AD) said, “It is for God to grant His grace, your task is to accept that grace and to guard it.” https://ehyde.wordpress.com/2014/01/21/orthodoxy-and-repentance/ .  But more important still is the concept of Kairos time.  T.S. Eliot worried unduly (or un-Orthodoxly) when he wrote "If all time is eternally present / all time is unredeemable" (Burnt Norton). I think it is just the opposite. All time is eternally present and all events in chronos time are being transformed into something new and Holy in Kairos time continually through continual repentance! That's it: I get it! 

Thoughts on Theophany

It's time to get real, and abandon the third person point of view.

Theophany, the Baptism of Christ, is one of the 12 major feasts in Orthodoxy. In the Episcopal Church, I recall, the Baptism is celebrated on the Sunday after Christmas (or perhaps after Epiphany… which like Theophany is on January 6, but which focuses on the arrival of the Magi.) I'm curious where the interpretations of what should be celebrated on the 6th diverged, though they do agree on the sense of a new understanding of God shining out into the world beyond the boundaries of Israel and the chosen people. In any case, I went to Church twice on the day of the Eve of the Theophany. I don't recall the details of the explanation of why we celebrate the blessing of the water also on the morning of the eve, and on the morning of the day, but we do. All told, I spent about 5 hours in Church on Tuesday and 4 hours driving back and forth (mostly with my friend X, which adds time to the journey but makes it more enjoyable) so I have broken a new record for worship.

As the communicants were receiving in the morning, I prayed that God would help me to feel His love, and suddenly my eyes were stung with tears. I do not know exactly what happened, but it seemed like a sign, affirming my longing for God's love.

I hadn't been sure that I, a lowly catechumen, would be able to partake of the holy water, which parishioners were told they can take home in containers that they bring, but Father made it clear before the service ended, that the blessing Christ bestowed on the universe through his baptism is for everyone. And even, in the Soviet days, people used to sneak a bit of holy water into the food and drink of the unbelievers. (And we know how Russia has returned to the faith now! So this stuff works!--my comment, not his).  So during the time of the final veneration of the icon and the cross, Father blesses--splashes!-- us in our faces and it is funny and joyful. People brought all kinds of jars and water bottles. I got to fill my jar with the holy water. And, exhausted and needed to get some work done, did not return to church on the actual day of the feast. Oh, whoever would have thought I wished I lived in Murderburg.

A Christmas Present

Frederica Mathewes-Green's recent book, Welcome to the Orthodox Church has quite a generous portion on preview at Google Books.  

Doc Bubbles is shocked!

Shocked, she was, to discover after the four hour service that downstairs the Nativity Fast included a gigantic bottle of---bourbon?  Aren't Russians supposed to drink vodka?  What is this?  But she does not complain, since bourbon is the only liquor she enjoys straight.  And the merriment was true to her vision of the Russian soul. "You are my family" Father toasted those seated around the table, including, she felt, Doc Bubbles.

And Father was right:  the joy of the feast is only truly experienced by those who have fasted. At least that is the only way she can explain why she is the only one in the house awake and merry at 10:45 Christmas morning. (And she did not follow the fast strictly. She doesn't have to yet, since she can't take Communion yet. She can only imagine how she would be floating now if she had…)

Earlier, Doc Bubbles and Stepdaughter1 had gone to the 7 p.m. service at the Methodists, to hear Mr. Crackles last time singing in the choir. SD1 likes to sing carols though she won't say prayers. It was pleasant, and Doc B did feel wistful seeing everyone again (and there was only one prayer that was so poorly written her hackles had to raise.)

Then, back at the house, she packed up the quiche she had made for the feast and bid adieu to Mr. Crackles and SD1 who were sure she had to be completely mad. (It was the first SD1 heard about the practice of standing throughout the service. Though, as it happened, there was quite a bit of sitting during the first part, which was the Nativity of Christ Vigil. The Nativity of Christ Divine Liturgy began at 0:00 a.m. as per the schedule. She hadn't known there was such a time.) She tried to explain it to herself, standing there, listening and crossing herself. The best explanation she can offer is that the Orthodox Liturgy is more like a meditation than a performance.

Christ is born!
Glorify him!

Dr. Who on Christmas Morning

Well, perhaps Doc Bubbles would read the Gospel into any episode she happened to turn on this morning on the Dr. Who marathon, but "The Witch's Familiar" certainly seemed perfect for her first Orthodox Christmas. The word "mercy" is the giveaway that Clara is trapped inside the Dalek. Mercy should not be in the evil one's DNA/vocabulary and would not be if Dr. Who had not shown mercy to Davros. And of course, the whole capture the Doctor's regeneration energy (resurrection power) to use for evil purposes is the devil's plan that is, as always from eternity, thwarted.

Amen.

Christ is Born!
Glorify Him!

You go girl

So on Wednesday America had the first mass shooting apparently orchestrated by a female terrorist. On Thursday "Defense Secretary Ashton Carter ruled Thursday that women will be allowed to serve in all combat jobs in the U.S. military."  http://time.com/4135583/women-combat-marines-ash-carter/.  Am I the only person finding this  ironic? Or sad?

All but diss and dat

Last night she dreamed she was still in graduate school and had not yet become Doc Bubbles. One of her professors was angry with her and said she should not continue, even though the dissertation was practically complete. Not-yet-doc was devastated. She found her way to a reception desk at health services and asked what they could do for an emotional emergency and they shook their heads and said they had no time for that. Continuing to despair, she tried to decide whether being a perpetual ABD (all but dissertation) was good enough but mustered up the strength to fight, and sought out her other committee members to argue her case.

Hmm, perhaps she feels the catechumenate is like the process of initiation required for the lofty states of education.  Or perhaps she feels that this process is stripping her of these markers of her worldly accomplishments and identity.  Or both.

This catechumenate

Doc Bubbles finds this  a very strange and unsettling time, this catechumenate. A lonely time. She has left behind friends at the Methodist Church. Her husband is annoyed when he isn't just making light of it. There seems to be no clear schedule of classes to guide her through the  five months she has to wait before making confession and availing herself of the sacraments. They say you cannot be an internet Orthodox but that is mostly all she has.

Still, at Thanksgiving Dinner, she reported being thankful for that she was still, at her advanced age, learning new things. She did not specify what things, as it was a small but very religiously diverse group of people who this year managed not to get into any conversations that would make her and Mr. Crackles feel persecuted. In fact, they had a very enjoyable time, especially when they played the game Story Cubes. The silliness reminded her of the last time she taught Sunday School at the Methodists when she had the children make up a game using random objects, as an object lesson in why God provides the Ten Commandments. She felt a pang of missing those the kids and knew that, even if someday she taught SS at the Orthodox Church it wouldn't be so playful. Perhaps she will look into becoming a Big Sister.