:: A Catechumen's Walk ::

:: Saturday, December 16, 2006 ::

This n’ That

Finals are over! 7 classes, 19 units. Done! Woohoo! Only a week and a few days until Christmas…I’m flying out to California in a few hours, relaxing at my parents house, sleeping, going to church…the life of a student rocks!

I have a friend who is beginning to convert. I told him good luck, to pray a lot, and that it is really, really hard. I feel sorry for him: I think I feel sorry for most converts. He will probably become Roman Catholic, but he also may go East. I did warn him, however, that as a convert, he will always be an ‘outsider.’ No matter if he knows, embraces, and practices his faith in a fuller way then any ‘cradle,’ he will always have to settle for a suspicious eye or a second-class position. I don’t think he understood that, coming from a Protestant background. But I think he is starting to realize what a hard journey he has in front of him.

OCMC has applications for summer missions teams available online now. How crazy is it to want to be a missionary? I’ll apply for a spot on one of the teaching teams: hey, if I’ve been through it, I can teach it, right? Hopefully it’ll work out…

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:08 AM on Saturday, December 16, 2006 [+] ::

Icky Sin

Have you ever thrown up on yourself (or someone else!) in public? You know, in a nice situation, where you are sitting around, having a nice, normal conversation, and suddenly…! While never having personally shared in this experience, I have been in the presence of others who have. Of course, the person is embarrassed and apologizes most profusely, but no one else really holds it against him. Life goes on.

The other day, I had a similar experience. It was just as repulsive and it really grossed me out. In a rather mundane conversation, I heard myself start to boast and brag about my own achievements. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I was disgusted. I felt like I had just puked all over everyone in the car. It wasn’t over the specific content of the boast of what I had said, but over the fact that it was so obviously boastful and arrogant. I had the immediate reaction of wanting to apologize profusely, which of course, I suppressed. It was not just an ‘awkward moment’ when no one knows what to say: it was straight out embarrassment at the realization of my own ickiness. It was as if I had just shared my own particular ickiness with everyone else in the car, and they were now covered with it, too.

It wasn’t an issue of discussing whether or not it was a sin, asking forgiveness, or anything else theological. It was just a sudden repulsion to my own sin and embarrassment for making it so obvious to everyone…

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 6:38 PM on Tuesday, December 05, 2006 [+] ::

Those Who Have Ears…

On Monday, I had the privilege of hearing a homily that hit home. Hard.

While I probably remember my own reaction to it more then the words of the homily: the idea was that there are those (me, for example), who hear the words of truth and are too proud in her own opinions to allow those words to affect her life.

To learn requires humility --- especially if that learning is not the acquiring of new information, but the negation of previously learned information. For example in Dogmatics on Thursday, we went over the filioque. Anyone who has read this blog for any time knows my history with the doctrine: I like it. And so, I wasted my time in class. Words were floating in the air: logical, articulate, accurate words that would have helped me if I could have heard them. And yet, as I sat in class, I could not hear them. I would not admit I was wrong; moreover, even though I can intellectually admit, “I should change my view on this topic,” I am unable to allow myself to do so. I knew I should listen, but try as I might, I could not hear.

I wonder if any of the Pharisees had this problem. If any of them could get to the point where they knew that the words in the air came from the Word himself, but pride had become so habitual to them that they were unable to allow themselves to listen to the Truth. What did they do?

It is wrong: there is no doubt there, but I can’t even find a way to articulate the sin. Pride? Yes, but much more then that. Stiff-necked? That’s closer, but even that implies a deliberate choice about it. I know what I should do, and I even want to do it, but I am unable to do it. These things are contrary to each other, and so I do not do the things I wish to do; there is another law, namely my pride, within me, warring against the law of my mind --- who will deliver me from these things?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 2:21 PM on Friday, December 01, 2006 [+] ::

Indian Orthodox: An Experience

A number of years back, I was speaking with some Protestant missionaries to India who were at Biola for a conference. When I asked if there was any sort of historical Christian presence in India, they vehemently denied it; when I pressed them about the Malankarites, they claimed they were only a quasi-Christian group with dubious doctrines. Whatever!

So, today I experienced it for myself. For the first time, I went to an Indian church, St. Mary’s in the Bronx. It was quite an experience --- overwhelming, to say the least. While I am aware of my general ignorance of Indian theology, I can at least comment on the services and the way it ‘felt’ and ‘looked.’

Firstly, it was very very Indian. There was not a single non-Indian there, save for the three of us (two Finns and myself). The church had an unfamiliar set-up. Firstly, the genders were strictly divided, but on the opposite sides then in the Byzantine church! The colors were bright, almost playful, and the decorations at the altar similarly reflected a very ‘Indian’ feel. Instead of an ikonostasis, there was a single, very long curtain which was alternately opened and closed at various points in the service. There was a highly decorated altar, but there was also a small table in front of the curtain at which some liturgical functions (such as the reading of matins) occurred. On either side of the main altar, there was a small table, possibly an altar, with a separate curtain in front of it and behind it.

The vestments were considerably different; to me, they looked Catholic. Also, the 20 or so altar servers (!) were wearing white albs to the effect of white podrozniks, rather then the Byzantine colored robes. There were lots and lots of bells rung frequently throughout the service, but I still was unable to tell when the anaphora began. The censer with its bells swung constantly, even during the readings (which were noticeably longer then the Byzantine ones). The people cross themselves ‘opposite’ from the Byzantines, and do not bow; neither do they cross themselves particularly often during the service. There are no litanies (such as would be recognizable to a Byzantine), but they do say an Indian-ized form of “kyrie eleison.” Also, the priest gives them the Eucharist with his hand, putting a piece of wine-soaked bread into each persons mouth.

While it was good, there was an odd, amalgamated feel to the liturgy as a whole. I cannot put my finger on it, but it seemed to be constructed out of elements that originally were not meant to go together. For example, there was a monstrance at the altar. There was no theological inclination toward veneration of the ‘blessed sacrament,’ and yet the monstrance was prominent. The priest’s vestments felt slightly 1960’s Anglican; they had fluorescent pink on them. It felt like all of the proper piety and love of the service was present, but the service itself was somehow lacking, or misunderstood, or disconnected from the people. There was an elusive odd feeling to the whole thing.

So, yes, there is an indigenous Christianity in India, and to anyone interested, I would recommend going to an Indian church. One warning: although clearly a visitor and lost, no one greeted me or spoke to me (probably a lingual accident more then anything). So, if you do not speak the local language, you may want to find someone who speaks English and go there with him. Otherwise, it’s quite an experience!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:53 PM on Sunday, November 26, 2006 [+] ::

In One Piece

When I was a very little child, the neighbors' dog used to bark. I had pet chickens to whom I was very attached (who the dog occasionally killed), so whenever I heard barking, I would cry, run into my room and put my pillow over my ears. Although I was quite young, I remember this overwhelming feeling of hopeless terror in the back of my throat.

Last night, I had another quite-unwelcome taste of that hopeless terror. I ended up in a car with someone who should not have been driving, and there was nothing I could do about it. We started the evening quite early with one ticket for reckless driving, and after another two hours of driving, finally made it home in one piece --- running more red-lights and stop signs then I care to imagine. Drinking and driving --- especially drinking while driving --- is one of the scariest things for a passenger. What could I do? Mostly, I braced myself for the impact that, thankfully, never came. Things like pleading with the driver, suggesting we go home, or that he slow down only increased his macho attitude of showing off to a car full of girls. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so afraid for my life --- that overwhelming 5-year-old terror arose in the back of my throat. When we finally did get back, I just prayed and couldn’t sleep for a long time.

So, glory to God that we’re back here, and that I have learned a few lessons about who to go out with and when…

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:43 AM on Sunday, November 19, 2006 [+] ::

Turning in Heresy

In editing my dogmatics paper, I realized that I had stumbled into…non-Orthodoxy…while writing it; at least, I flat-out contradicted Orthodox thought in favor of Thomistic thought in a section on the relations between the divine Persons. In fact, I may have even flat out contradicted Christian thought in general with it, although as far as I can tell the arguments are valid.

I am curious now. Having realized my conclusions are somewhat heretical, I would not read the paper from the pulpit, but is it acceptable to turn in a semi-heretical paper for a class? I generally do not hold double views on a single subject (i.e.: believing in God in chapel, but not in class), since that is “crazy-making.” Can my academic work be divorced from my personal beliefs? What if I am just wrong in a few areas? How far is too far?

Of course, the professor of the class being as he is (he already specifically warned me about “staying within the received rule of faith” with this paper!), I will show him where I think I am outside of that rule (although academically still within respectability), and we will go over how I reach erroneous conclusions. But it makes me wonder: What would happen if I turned in heresy?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 3:43 PM on Tuesday, November 14, 2006 [+] ::

Fasting: The Law

An extraordinarily good homily was delivered the other day in chapel by a third-year student, and due to its particularly pointed message, I am able to offer a particularly pointed disagreement.

The main point of the homily was that fasting and ascetic exercise will not save us, but that we should give to the poor, help orphans, and do good for our religion to be acceptable to God. It is better to do good then to fast, and so many people make the fasts into a legalistic system that they have simply replaced the Judaic law with another law, rather then being in the freedom of Christ. The homilist, ironically a strict faster himself, ended with a quotation from Mother Maria Skobtsova about being asked on the last day not how many prostrations one made, but how one helped the poor, orphans, and widows.

While his points seem good in their own regard, they have made the fast an end in and of itself, rather then a means to an end. In other words, I fast not so that I can do good on the side of my fasting, but so that I can do good, full stop. Fasting, ascetic exercise, &c is never an end, but is always a means to an end. It is fasting that helps me remember that I am dust, that the body is more then clothing and food; I am reminded of my own weakness, which allows me to sympathize with those who are weak. It is the fasts that lead to my good works, not the fasts that are in addition to my good works; if I make excuses about something as simple as a fast, how many excuses can I muster about serving the poor? This service, this outpouring of myself to help those in need, this is where I will find freedom in Christ. The fasts are not a legalistic system, but the means to my good works, my freedom, and ultimately, my salvation.

O unveil mine eyes, and I shall perceive wondrous things out of Thy law…I meditated on Thy commandments which I have greatly loved

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:59 AM on Thursday, November 09, 2006 [+] ::

Fear of Tomorrow

As I debate my future, I find myself running into the same old problem as I have faced in the past: fear.

I am interested in PhD programs, in academia, in pursuing the difficult work of theology, but I find my own fear nearly paralyzing. What if I fail? What if I end up with my PhD, but no faith? What if I get too tired of doing it and burn out? What if I don’t get accepted into any programs? What if I only accumulate debt, and never reach my goal? What will I do with my life? What if I am a failure?

Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; nor about the body, what you will put on. Life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing. Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, which have neither storehouse nor barn; and God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds? And which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature? If you then are not able to do the least, why are you anxious for the rest? Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothes the grass, which today is in the field and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will He clothe you, O you of little faith? And do not seek what you should eat or what you should drink, nor have an anxious mind. For all these things the nations of the world seek after, and your Father knows that you need these things. But seek the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you.

O, Lord, I believe! Help Thou my unbelief!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 7:32 PM on Monday, November 06, 2006 [+] ::

Blogger seems to not be working too well recently...sorry for the long pause...

A Wound

I have a wound --- a very gross and oozing one. In fact, if I leave it untreated, it will kill me. It is rather messy, and it tends to get all over everything. So, every once and a while, I go to the physician and have the messiness cleaned up. But I am a proud person, and the wound is really gross, so sometimes I don’t tell the doctor how deep the wound is, but I only tell him about the side effects it causes; I have the nagging feeling that I am tricking no one, however, and that he knows the wound and its extent. But, he gives me medicine to deal with the side effects, I go home, and the wound remains, foul, gross, and eventually fatal.

Each week, I confess the same stuff. The same foul spewing from the same deeply rooted sin, whatever it may be. And while I am sure that my confessor is well aware of the wound, he has the care to wait for me to ask for his help. And I still don’t want to. Of course, I feel like it is rather useless to confess the same accidental, minor sins when I have not dealt with the source of such sins. That ‘confession’ fulfills the technical sense of confession: I have listed of all of my sins, even repented of them, and have received absolution. But such a confession does not lend itself to the healing of my soul: it takes away the side effects, but it does not heal the wound.

And yet, healing is possible. The walls of our churches are covered with the images of those who have attained such healing. How? Through time, repentance, and patience. Through their prayers, may I too attain this healing.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:57 AM on Tuesday, October 31, 2006 [+] ::

Conversion…again, and again, and…

So, I came into this whole thing with a big misconception. I thought that when I converted to Orthodoxy, that would be the way it would be said: I converted . Come to find out, that’s the wrong tense of the verb. Rather, I am converting .

Being here for the last month or so, I have not only realized how not Orthodox I am, but I have also realized how far I have to go to become an Orthodox Christian. In fact, let’s just leave that word out of it for a while; let’s just say Christian. At confession yesterday, as I was telling my SF (all students have a campus priest as an SF) how frustrated I am with my lack of comprehension and hard-heartedness to change, he reminded me of conversion. Little by little, step by timid step, I must learn to convert. The potter will re-break the vessel until it is correct. I will have to convert until I am truly a Christian, and until I am fully saved.

What is conversion? It is going to church everyday, working in the kitchen, receiving the Eucharist, confessing, working on my studies…in other words, it looks just like normal life, but it must be lived all the while trusting that my own desire for my conversion will elicit a response from the Lover of Mankind Who loved me enough to leave glory and dwell among men.

Conversion is simple: Fall. Get up. Fall. Get up. Repeat until saved.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 1:21 PM on Friday, October 20, 2006 [+] ::

Frustrations

Being a convert can have its good times and bad times. This is sure one of those times it would be nice to have been a ‘cradle.’

I don’t get it. Eastern thought is beyond me. I am in a fascinating and dynamic dogmatics class right now. I have the feeling that large quantities of very useful and beneficial information, both spiritual and academic, are being taught in the class…for those who have ears to hear it. I cannot find categories to put this information into. If I had never studied Western theology, perhaps it would be easier, since I would at least be starting from ground zero. However, I am starting in the ‘negative,’ if you will, trying to unlearn conceptual categories of Thomistic thought while simultaneously trying to build new categories and fill them. Then I meet what I view as conflicting pieces of information (today, for example, it seemed like the accident of history justifies relativism in terms of ‘oeconomia’), and I am unable to articulate my questions and objections even to my own satisfaction, much less able to communicate them to those of an Eastern mindset (the priest/professor). So, I end up confused at my lack of comprehension and frustrated at my lack of articulation.

I don’t get it. I don’t even know how to start getting it. It is frustrating.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 1:08 PM on Thursday, October 12, 2006 [+] ::

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

It is often said around here by some that familiarity breeds contempt. Seminarians, among other things, seem to be known for getting sloppy about church etiquette, not respecting clergy, or generally being stuck-up know-it-alls when it comes to things ‘churchy.’ I mean, we go to church more in a week then half the Orthodox world does in a year, so we get to be snotty, right? Ouch. No, wrong!

I do not mean to offend anyone, and my point of this post is not to poke fun at my own pride or that of any one else. The point is the ‘some’ who say would claim that familiarity breeds contempt, not the veracity of the adage itself.

There is an old priest at my home parish who has been a priest upwards of 50 years. Does he count as familiar with the services? I have watched him serve many times, and he does it slowly, with dignity, and without boredom. From watching him and speaking with him, one gets the idea that his respect of the holy has only deepened with time, and that he shows no contempt in much of anything, but especially when at the altar or in church.

Then take the seminarian. He has been at seminary for 1-3 years, and he thinks he’s seen it all. He knows every word of every service in the chapel; he’s taken his classes, can construct even the most complex service, give the meanings and dates of the various parts of it, and can quote every word every one will say in the exact order in which they will say them. He stands in contempt.

What is the difference? Familiarity, but from the opposite view that we have been taking. The old priest knows the service and Church; he is truly familiar with it, and so respects it. The seminarian is not familiar with it, so he is in contempt of it. Give the seminarian a good 20-30 years and you may find that he is closer to the attitude of the old priest --- or rather, for my own sake, I hope I am closer to the attitude of my old priest in that time! Does familiarity breed contempt? No, but my own pride does. May God grant that I, in my time here, become familiar with the services. Until then, forgive me my contempt born from unfamiliarity!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:08 AM on Wednesday, October 04, 2006 [+] ::

Theology

I graduated from Biola with a lot of units in theology/bible. I got 30 from Torrey of straight ‘Bible,’ not including classes like Trinity, Athanasius, and Thomas Aquinas, which add another 12. Then I had 18 units of theology from Oxford. So, I ended up with about 50 units of Bible/Theology. Funny; I thought I knew what theology was.

I think I may be starting to see the breadth and depth of theology here. Until I got here, I’d never even heard of Canon Law. Dogmatics was something that Catholics did, and Liturgics was…I dunno. The musical aspect of worship was something that other people did and had nothing to do with theology. History was history --- facts, not theology.

I feel like I’ve stepped into a whole new world of my chosen discipline. I mean, I knew that I loved theology, but this is a whole new level of it. It is like adding color to a black and white drawing. There is so much more to learn out there, so many new angles to take! One of my favorite aspects of theology here are the varied angles on the same truth. For example, I have two professors, both dedicated and pious churchmen, who discuss the same issue from such different perspectives and hold such different opinions that I am amazed that they come from the same tradition! I am not at all saying that either is right or wrong, or even that one is ‘liberal’ and the other ‘conservative,’ but that within the same tradition, they are able to provide opposing and enlightening points of view. Contrary to what some would assert, there can be a strong unity of faith and tradition and still a wide diversity of fervently held opinions.

I feel like I am just stepping into the world of theology and am being amazed by it. It is awesome. Of course, I have 19 units, daily chapel, the obedience of breakfast cook (got any good breakfast ideas? Seriously, send them to me!), and I sing in the choir, so I am quite aware of the more mundane aspects of life. But above all of this floats theology, spurring me on to keep struggling. Pray for me!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 6:58 PM on Tuesday, September 26, 2006 [+] ::

OISM

I spent the weekend at St. Tikhon’s Monastery/Seminary in Pensylvania at an OISM meeting. Firstly, let me say that St. Tikhon’s is nothing like St. Vladimir’s. That’s not a judgment so much as a clarification for any who might be confused about it.

The Orthodox Inner-Seminary Movement is a wonderful idea. There were approximately 25 students from four Orthodox seminaries (St. Herman’s in Alaska was not represented) who met to eat delicious Arab food, play basketball, and talk seriously about things like becoming clergy and leading the Church in America. If nothing else, students from Holy Cross, St. Tikhon’s, St. Vladimir’s, and Holy Trinity met, socialized, and networked with each other. What does it matter? Networking. These students will be serving in diocese across the U.S. and world, and hopefully we can see unity come from these meetings where the Venezuelan at the “Russian” school can talk with the Bulgarian at the “Greek” school, or the Arab at the “American” school can talk with the Indian students about everything from sinking a three-pointer, passing the water, or jurisdictional and ecclesiastical unity.

There should be official pictures and information on the OCA website (see side link) in a few days.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 7:22 AM on Sunday, September 24, 2006 [+] ::

Back to the Basics: How to Venerate Ikons

Sometimes, I can get too caught up in hustle and bustle of it all to remember the one thing needful. The other day, I had class all morning (until 1:00), then choir rehearsal in the evening before dinner, then vigil afterwards and liturgy the next day. Basically, I had no time.

Thankfully, as I was venerating the ikons at the beginning of vigil, I caught myself. Venerating ikons does not mean looking at them briefly and kissing them while thinking of the next two thousand things you need to do. Hey, if that were true then no one would ever accuse us of ‘worshipping’ them! Venerating an ikon is not trying to look ‘cool’ as you come into chapel, whether that cool is the attitude of ‘I’m far too suave to really care about these things!’ or ‘I’m so pious and holy I can barely stand myself!’ (although, I admit that there seems to be surprisingly more of the former here then the latter). Venerating the ikons is not something we do hurriedly, even if there is a line of people, even if we are late, even if the deacon is standing there wanting to cense the ikon. The people can wait, I can report to choir a few seconds later, and deacons tend to be patient.

Rather, venerating an ikon means stopping the noise of your head (or the world around you, as the case may be), crossing yourself and bowing twice, kissing the ikon, and crossing and bowing again. It’s like asking a priest’s blessing: sure, you can do it sloppily and disrespectfully, but you can also do it properly and reverently.

Funny, I would have thought that by the time I got here, I would have mastered the little things like venerating ikons. Back to the basics though, right?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 6:44 AM on Saturday, September 16, 2006 [+] ::

Sproznidkom!

Greetings of the Feast!

Today is the Nativity of the Mother of God. Joachim and Anna are freed from childlessness. That which is good is able to reproduce and multiply. The Church Year begins and is off with a bang.

I too am beginning new things. Yesterday, I began seminary with Church History and Dogmatic Theology. Today, we have the day off (Yay for feasts!), after a hierarchical liturgy with His Beatitude Met. Herman and two ordinations.

The people here seem good; I am the most awkward of them all. While I may be somewhat chronically scared of people, I am usually not awkward in church per se. Yesterday, I was awkward in church. Perhaps it was because we had just been shown how to venerate ikons and enter the church and stuff. I guess I’d never officially been shown that in so many formal words; I’d just kind of picked it up. I know it is my own self-consciousness, but I feel as though I don’t want to cross myself or bow or do any thing at the wrong time. Of course, I still remember what Fr. J. told me right before I was coming out to tour St. Vlad’s last year. I asked him if I should shake hands or get the blessings of priests/professors. Through a story, he told me not to deny who I am (an Orthodox Christian first, a scholar second), and to get blessings. Not only have been too shy to get any blessings yet (I just kind of awkwardly introduce myself), I try to be ‘cool’ in chapel and not act like the obnoxious first-year seminarian that I am. Perhaps that is the very obnoxiousness of it all?

Anyway, if you remember, pray for me in these first few weeks of adjustment to seminary life. I could certainly use it!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:21 PM on Friday, September 08, 2006 [+] ::

A Broad Swath, or The Narrow Way

In my last post, I spoke of the narrow Way of Christianity being a broad path. But if we are specifically told in Matthew 7:13 that “…broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction…[but]…narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life” How can the path to life be broad?

There is one end of salvation and many means. The one end can be the narrow way --- salvation is fully becoming the image of God within ourselves. There are as many paths that lead to this end as there are people. Some saints are great warriors --- St. Theodore the General comes instantly to mind. Some saints were ardently against bloodshed of all kinds. Some were priests, living in the world and saving it by their ministrations; some were monks who never spoke to another soul. Some were intellectuals and writers; some were illiterate. All followed the narrow path, and yet there was such diversity among them, not only of culture, time, and language, but of occupation, personality, and manner of life.

The narrowness of the path allows for its very broadness to show through. Salvation is to become who you are; to realize in its fullest sense the image of God in which we were created. This image of God is not a static, dead image which is the same everywhere, for it was created by the same Life who created the wonderful diversity of the plants, the animals, and the heavens. And yet this image of God is the same in all --- it is a reflection of the glory of its Creator. No matter how marred and fallen this image is, it cannot help but have at least a glimmer of hope that it can be fully restored.

If the saints are so diverse and different, what unites them? Their Christ-like actions and being. They loved, they prayed, they wept, they did all they could to save the world. Christ – the image of God – united their otherwise diverse lives.

So, is the gate of salvation narrow or broad? Yes, it is.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 6:14 PM on Friday, September 01, 2006 [+] ::

The Way Wherein We Should Walk

In his book, The Abolition of Man, C.S. Lewis speaks about a Christianized concept of the Tao. It is the path that good men take, despite their age, era, social status, or other external factors. It is the universal path of ‘what people should do.’

In our rather strangely disconnected age, the Tao is often pronounced, but rarely modeled. When I was nine, I ‘became a Christian’ at a summer camp. Someone gave me a Bible and told me that Christians read the Bible everyday. In this Tao-less state, being told something but not having it modeled, I sat down and read the Bible, starting in Genesis and ending in the Apocalypse. No one had told me that most nine-year-olds do not sit down and read the Bible from cover to cover. Of course, I have yet to get over that first love of theology, even these 13 years later, and I am grateful that no one discouraged my childish eagerness. And yet, I am still scared by the Tao-less age in which we live.

Although I admit to being woefully ignorant of current events, I recently became aware that a specific perversion will be taught as ‘normal’ and ‘acceptable’ in the California public school system. While from my own experience I have little confidence that the schools can teach the fullness of the Tao, correctly or perversely, I still fear for that presumptuous kid (like I was) who hears that “Some of the world has the natural and morally neutral urge to wear their shirts inside-out” and so thinks that he must be one of these kids. He therefore turns his shirt wrong-side out and fully embraces a life-style of inside-out clothing. He has been told a perverted piece of the Tao, and in his innocent zeal to accept it, has fallen outside of the Tao.

Kids accept what they are told simply as ‘the way it is.’ I know a coupla of PKs who go to church everyday. They have all their lives. For them, that is just the way it is. Is this outside of the Tao? Well, it certainly isn’t normal for most American teenagers, but the Tao is both a broad swath of freedom and the narrow way. What happens when the Tao is forgotten, or willfully perverted? I don’t know. I doubt we can loose this narrow way, but at the same time, the world will hate it, as it has all of those who have come before.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 12:25 PM on Tuesday, August 29, 2006 [+] ::

Pain Coming…

Tomorrow I’m going to have my tonsils out…from what everyone keeps telling me, it’s gonna hurt a lot. Did I ever mention that it’s not encouraging to keep telling someone how much something is going to HURT? ;-P

So, if you remember, pray for me.

‘Cause I don’t like pain.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 1:12 PM on Wednesday, August 23, 2006 [+] ::

Home, Family, and Friends

Every time I come home, I realize all over again: I love it here! No, not my parents house (!), but the area in which I live. Trees, sky, birds, QUIET, coolness, fog…Sonoma County is the best in the world.

I got to go to church today, sing in the choir, live in the liturgy (with 6 priests!), receive the Eucharist, and generally relax “at home.” When I go away, I am usually able to convince myself that no one knows who I am, that I exist, &c, in my home parish. And every time, I am surprised by how many people come up to me and say, “Hi!” Not complex, not hard, and yet so refreshing and reassuring that I usually forget to say anything in response. It’s great to be home!

I also got to see my family today for the first time in a while. My brother just got his first “real” job (Glory to God!), and I am so excited for him as he moves out into the real world. For me, these next two years will be difficult as I watch my brother (with whom, for better or worse, I have been compared to perpetually) get a job, a place of his own, a real life, and all those things that separate students from ‘real’ adults. But I am overjoyed that he got the perfect job. I prayed to St. Xenia a lot for him…but I don’t think I’ll tell him.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 9:49 PM on Sunday, August 20, 2006 [+] ::

Syllabic Translations

While I understand that the title of this article is…less then interesting, the topic is in fact one that probably deserves more attention then it has been receiving. For example, here are three translations of the Kontakion of the Akathist, perhaps one of the best-known hymns outside of the Pentecostarion:

Unto you, O Theotokos, invincible Champion, your City, in thanksgiving ascribes the victory for the deliverance from sufferings. And having your might unassailable, free us from all dangers, so that we may cry unto you: Rejoice, O Unwedded Bride.

Triumphant Leader to you belong the strains of victory, and since you save us from adversity we offer you our thanks: We are your people, O Mother of God. So, as you have that invincible power, continue to deliver us from dangers that we may cry out to you: Hail, O Virgin and Bride ever pure.

To Thee, the Champion Leader, we Thy servants dedicate a feast of victory and of thanksgiving as ones rescued out of sufferings, O Theotokos: but as Thou art one with might which is invincible, from all dangers that can be do Thou deliver us, that we may cry to Thee: Rejoice, O Unwedded Bride!

This one hymn has, clearly, been translated in many different ways. Has theological meaning or significance been lost due to translation? I will leave that debate for better theologians then myself. I am more concerned with one thing: which of these translations do you remember? Which is easy to learn? Which do you most ‘cherish?’

For me, this is an easy question. As I go about my daily routine, I catch myself humming the tune to the last translation, done (I believe) by Holy Transfiguration Monastery in Boston. This was not the first translation I learned, however, nor is it the one written in my prayer book. Instead, it is the one that has been syllabically translated into my first language, English. Similarly to HTM’s translation of the Supplicatory Canon (which again, I find myself singing as I go about my day), this has been adopted to our language in a poetic way. It has been put to song, so regular lay-people like me can remember and sing it as we go about our regular lay lives.

As I have been struggling to learn a non-syllabically translated version of the Dormition Lamentations for the last week (we sing words like “THEEEE-o-to-KOOOS’), syllabic translations have been on my mind. I know there are strong objectors, saying that we distort theology by making it metric. But when we have as such vastly different translations of one well-known hymn as I have shown above, are we really loosing that much theology? The gain --- allowing musical people like myself to mull over the words all day long --- seems to greatly surpass the loss. So, why isn’t more stuff syllabically translated?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 10:17 PM on Friday, August 11, 2006 [+] ::

G-rated Bible?

This morning after liturgy, I was talking with Fr. J about various events in the Bible. He was mentioning some of the hymnography at vespers the other night for the Righteous Judith and how disgusting it was. I mean, she does walk back into camp with the enemy kings decapitated head in her hand! (Quick: what’s the story of Judith?)

But, how clean is the Bible? Not very. There are stories of prostitution (Who was Mary Magdalene, anyway? [not a prostitue, as I have been corrected in the comments!]), brutal and graphic murders (What did Phinehas do again?), battle (do I need to reference one?), and even cruel victory customs (hamstringing horses), not to mention dashing babies heads against the rocks (Ps 136).

With all of the blood and gore in our own sacred text, why then are Christians so against things like violent movies? Christians are aware of the world, and cannot be otherwise; and yet while acknowledging the general filth and debauchery of the world around us, we must recognize it as unnatural and wrong. The world sees the same things as we do, but it insists on glorifying them or making them seem normal; this is how/why violent movies sell.

Then again, Christianity is able to redeem that very debauchery she condemns. What happens to Mary Magdalene (hint: St.)? And Phinehas? He gets glorified in a Psalm for fulfilling his calling and executing God’s justice as God’s minister (see Num 25:7, Ps 105). Glorifying violence, bloodshed, debauchery and such is bad, and yet even these things are redeemable in light of Christ’s coming.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 11:50 PM on Tuesday, August 08, 2006 [+] ::

An Irony

As is obvious, the frequency of posts is inversely proportional to my homework load. Sorry for the lull!

Although I have at many points been told to stop being ironic and start being real, I must point out at least one irony that struck me today as I trepidatiously look forward to seminary. At Biola, and even more so at UCLA, I am able to carry my chokti in my hand and ‘play’ with it as I walk across campus, during a lecture, during group activities, &c. No one knows what it is, nor really cares. When I get to St. Vlads, I won’t be able to carry it and ‘play’ with it anymore. It would not be socially acceptable.

Does anyone else see the irony in this?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:21 PM on Thursday, August 03, 2006 [+] ::

Aging Gracefully

There is an older man, J, at the church where I have been attending. Now, he is not that “old” in years, but he has aged well. Even though I have only known him briefly, he has that kind of ambience which one acquires when one has habitually practiced good and fled from evil. Although I do not know how long he has been a Christian, I would suspect that it has been many years and a rather hard struggle. And now, he reaps the rewards of that struggle. One can tell from subtle things, like the way he phrases suggestions or the way in which he moves, that he has a wisdom that comes from a life of habitual piety: prayer, repentance, and struggle.

When I am old (as I jokingly tell people), I want to be a babushka in a church. I want to have that kind of sagacity, wisdom, and gentleness. I want to quietly bear the scars from years of fighting the passions and be an example to the young, zealous, and exuberant (obnoxious?) converts. This is the kind of faith a young person cannot have. Of course, to gain this faith, wisdom, and gentleness, I have to fight the passions, do the hard work of repentance, and learn how to make things like prayer habitual to my being. It is not an easy path, but to see the rewards it offers is encouraging to those of us who are in the midst of the throes of our struggles.

On the other hand, there is F, who is not aging well. He and J are rather close in years, but in manner of life they are infinitely apart. F has fought and spurned God and religion his whole life, and has indulged his passions. Now, as he approaches old age, his passions have become so ingrained into his being that he can no longer fight them. Even when he recognizes that they are wrong, they are like a bad habit that he is powerless to resist. As his resistance wanes with increasing age, and he continues to reap the results of his life, and he will likely become more bitter with time. This is a sad life, and yet it is one to which many people are doomed.

I do not mean to moralize, but clearly I am. We must fight our passions while we still are able to fight them, before we are old and set in our bad ways. Even if we feel like we are losing and the battle is hard, remember that it is the very scars we get in the battle that will make us more like our Lord --- himself the Innocent Lamb, scared by the whips so that we might be victorious over our passions.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 7:18 PM on Wednesday, July 26, 2006 [+] ::

Yawwwn!

In these last few weeks at UCLA, I have discovered something wonderful. Morning Liturgies. I can get to them, and back to school all before class starts. I really feel like I have accomplished a lot before 8:30 in the morning. Half the class is just waking up, but I’ve already gotten myself to and from church (on the bus, no less!) and have spent at least part of the day in prayer. If you can get to them, morning liturgies rock!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:43 PM on Monday, July 24, 2006 [+] ::

Lord, Have Mercy!

Last Sunday, H.G. Bishop JOSEPH asked us to pray specifically for the suffering people in Lebanon. Being as a-political as I am, I viewed this not as a request to pray for a specific political goal, but rather for the innocent people whose lives are endangered and futures uncertain due to the political upheaval of the region.

So, the other day, while praying the Supplicatory Canon, I paused and specifically prayed for the innocents. It went something like, “Preserve, O Lord, those who suffer at the hands of wrong-doers. Have mercy on them, for Thou art our merciful and compassionate God who loves mankind. Comfort them in their affliction, rescue them from danger, and be to them a shelter to guard them…” It continued in a like manner, “Destroy those who do evil, punish them for the wrong they have inflicted upon Thy people.”

Somewhere in the middle of this “revenge” clause I caught myself. Here I was, in one prayer, asking for both mercy on myself (first-person used figuratively throughout) and revenge on my enemies. It didn’t make sense. I was asking God to forgive my sins, overlook my wrongs, and yet to punish the sins of my enemies and make them suffer for their wrongs. That’s hypocrisy.

So, I changed my prayer. Not only must I forgive those who hate me, as Christ forgave those who crucified him even as they were doing it, but I must pray that the Lord will have the same mercy upon them as I desire that he has upon me. In other words, I must pray for my enemies as I pray for myself. Their actions can be wrong, but I can only pray that they are forgiven this wrong, not that they are punished for it.

“Lord, have mercy on them that hate and wrong me and make temptation for me, and let them not perish because of me, a sinner!”

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:01 PM on Thursday, July 20, 2006 [+] ::

Insensibility: Words from a Saint

So, I sin. Then I go to confession. Then the priest absolves me. Then I sin. Then I go to confession. Then…

It seems like a never-ending cycle. How do we break this habit of sin? Sometimes I swear, I can make my weekly confession lists and say them the week before. “So, yeah, Father, I’m gonna do this, that, and the other thing. Oh, and I’ll also do this and these.” But I have the nagging feeling that confession should not be done for future events.

In all serious, sin is a habit. In fact, I generally feel more frustration for being unable to break the habit then contrition for the specific sin(s) which compose the habit. I get to the point where I am reading a list, feeling nothing…no shame, contrition, repentance…nothing of what I should feel.

Here are some of the words of our father among the saints, St. Ignatius Brianchaninov, which he gave on the Sunday of the Myrrh-Bearing Women:

“Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulcher? This is a question filled with anxiety, sadness, and bewilderment. This anxiety, sadness, and bewilderment are felt by those souls who are making their way to the Lord, having ceased serving the world and sin. Before their gaze is revealed, in all its terrible magnitude and significance, the infirmity of insensibility. They desire to pray with contrition, to read the word of God without desiring to read other things, and to abide in continual contemplation of their sinfulness, in continual pain over it. In a word, they want to be adopted by God, to belong to God, and they encounter something unexpected --- an opposition within themselves that is not comprehended by the servants of the world: insensibility of heart. Their heart, struck by their previous negligent life as if by a mortal wound, displays no signs of life. In vain does their mind gather thoughts about death, about God’s Judgment, about the multitude of their sins, about the torments of hell and the delights of paradise. In vain does their mind try to smite their heart with these thoughts --- it remains without feeling for them, as if hell, paradise, God’s Judgment, one’s own transgression, and one’s state of falleness and perdition had no relation whatsoever to the heart. It sleeps a deep sleep, a sleep of death. It sleeps, drunk and intoxicated with sinful poison. Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulcher? This stone is very great.”

Sure, they describe the problem, but the solution is either too trite or too complex: “a constant, pious, and attentive life.” Uh…what’s that mean?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 3:12 PM on Thursday, July 13, 2006 [+] ::

A Gut Reaction

With all of the theological thinking I do, it’s nice to be reassured that my “gut reactions” are still valid.

The other day, as I was riding the bus across campus, sitting in the front “disabled” seats with my crutches upright beside me, an old woman flagged down the bus. The driver opened the doors, and s l o w l y an old, probably homeless, woman approached the bus. She looked ancient. Moreover, she looked like she was in pain. From the looks of her gnarled hands, arthritis had ravaged her body. She lifted her first foot to get it to the bus step. She couldn’t reach the handrail to balance herself, so she had to try again. A second time, she tried to make the first step. It was no more successful then the first. By now, at least two minutes had passed since she had hailed the bus. She tried again, putting both hands on the step in front of her. Slowly, painfully, she got one foot onto the bus. We waited for another three minutes as this woman boarded the bus and sat down near the front, looking exhausted and clearly in pain.

As I watched from my “front-row” seat, I hung my head in shame. “O Lord, forgive us our debts,” was all I could mutter under my breath. I wasn’t being theological, introspective, or smart. But I was watching a bus full of impatient people stand idly by while a woman struggled to ascend a few steps. No one offered her a hand or made any attempt to help her. We stared like dumb sheep. I’m not asking for someone to become intimately involved in her life, but simply to help her up a few steps of a bus. I was ashamed that I didn’t help her. I was ashamed that I just sat and stared. O Lord, forgive us our debts.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 4:44 PM on Friday, July 07, 2006 [+] ::

Caring in LA

As James pointed out today, people should care about their local communities. Yesterday, on my second day of class as a new student at UCLA, I encountered someone who cared.

As one walks toward the UCLA medical center, there is a small brick boarder that rises above the walkway a scant two inches. As I was walking back from purchasing a week’s worth of groceries on my second day at UCLA, I discovered this boarder in a very ‘up-close’ way.

I stepped. The ground wasn’t there. Tearing sounds in ankle. Pain. Lots. So, now I’m sitting on the ground somewhat in the middle of a busy walkway. After my second try to stand up (I think I passed out, but I’m not sure), tears were coming so fast from my eyes I could not see to even get out of the middle of the walk. So, here I am in a place where I know precisely no one. I don’t even know my own home phone number! I have large bags of groceries, no cell phone, and possibly a broken ankle; anyway, I can’t even stand up.

I must look great at this point, because a very nice stranger comes over and asks if I’m OK. I try to lie (damn my pride!), but it didn’t work. She offers me her cell phone to call someone; I call D, who goes to UCLA, but he does not pick up his phone. So, she took her time to call around, find the number of a cab, and call the cab. Even more? Just as she is walking away, D sees a number he doesn’t know on his cell phone. So, he called this stranger’s cell phone and asked for me by name (he said that he guessed it was my new LA number, so he asked for me??). She turns around, comes back to me, and hands me the phone. As far as I am concerned, she wins the caring award for helping a random stranger in a lot of pain. That’s a good Samaritan.

Anyway, D and I spent the whole rest of the afternoon at the ER. He should also win and award; with no notice, he stopped what he was doing, drove over to where I was, took me to the ER, and then back to my place. Again, that’s caring.

Glory to God, I’m fine. I have a bad sprain, some crutches, drugs, and orders to stay off of my foot for a week (!). But I am very thankful to the people, including a stranger, who took the time to care.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 4:02 PM on Wednesday, June 28, 2006 [+] ::

“…You’ll end up having more…”

“Love is something if you give it away,
Give it away, give it away,
Love is something if you give it away,
You end up having more.”

The other day after vespers, I found myself with some extra time alone in church: I had nothing else to do, and I was relatively sure that everyone who might otherwise wander in was at the parish council meeting next door. So, I decided to sing the Paraklesis to the Virgin.

Then I started thinking: for whom shall I sing this? The Paraklesis is usually offered in a time when one desires the special protection and comfort of the Mother of God. Since I really don’t have any pressing prayer needs, the first thing I could think of was to pray for the family of the fatality in a car accident that afternoon which had snarled traffic and closed the road I take home from work. Then I got greedy: I was doing the praying, the singing --- I was sacrificing my time, so I should get the blessing. When I pray to the saints and ‘work’ for their blessings, I want to be the only recipient of their graces. I want to be the one who is most blessed. I want to know that I can earn blessings by doing something, be that singing, praying, fasting, charity, or any other number of Pharisaical actions.

In fact, it’s just the opposite. Over and over again I must repeat to myself that this whole grace thing is…well, grace, and cannot be earned. Even better, if I give it away, I get more. In a carnal and perhaps petty way, the act of prayer is an act of discipline in itself, and helps to work against my chronically hard heart and stiff neck. And since blessings are not objectively measurable, the act of prayer may be as much as blessing as to be the object of the request of the prayer. In praying for others, I am receiving the blessings for myself. “Love is something if you give it away…”

In the end, however, I must remember who and what I am: the grace, the reward, the blessing, comes from God, not by my works, but by his grace. Maybe if I keep working on it, someday I’ll get what St. Paul says: it is not by my works that I am saved, but by the grace of God…

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 9:45 PM on Thursday, June 22, 2006 [+] ::

PECUSA

Other then pray, what do we do? In case you haven't heard the news...

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 6:09 PM on Sunday, June 18, 2006 [+] ::

Death To The World…Again

Technically, my SF is a hieromonk; he is a monk who is ordained as a priest. The other day, however, as I drove up to his monastery to ‘hang out,’ I was surprised to see a baptism service just beginning. Of course, I joined in the singing of the beautiful service, but somehow, it felt out of place.

In an article I wrote while in Oxford, I pointed out what I believe to be the fundamental incompatibility of monasticism with the priesthood. Rather then rehash that, I would like to reflect on the sacrifice that ordained monastics, especially in modern America, must undergo. Monastics save the world by silence, by prayer, and by re-incarnating Christ in all their actions; priests by their examples, preaching, and the sacraments. I know my own SF was tonsured with the intent of staying at Simona Petra his whole life; various circumstances, however, landed him in America and got him ordained to the priesthood. And while the monastic tonsure is a permanent thing (meaning he wears that funny veil), being able to live as a monk is not. Father is a pastor now, not a monk. He is constantly on the phone, counseling, confessing, or just dealing with the “stray” people who come to see him (including myself). Another Athonite monk was visiting Father a few weeks ago; a babushki living by the monastery described this visitor as “translucent, almost so you could see through him.” She says she remembered when Father was like that; now, however, he is a full-time pastor, preacher, teacher (his favorite job!), and fund-raiser (to rebuild the monastery).

If the sacrifice one makes to become a monk is difficult, imagine the sacrifice one makes to stop being a monk and become a pastor. The pressures of the world with none of the perks; the struggle of monasticism with none of the benefits! It is literally the sacrifice of one’s life for the sake of the salvation of others. I am sure we all know a few hieromonks who are more or less not monkish anymore. Thank them for their double sacrifice, and pray for them!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 9:21 PM on Thursday, June 15, 2006 [+] ::

Too Smart For My Own Stupid Good

Sometimes, random people ask me random theology questions. The other day, a co-worker, knowing I am a theology student, asked me if I believed in the Biblical account of creation. I hesitated, specifically not saying what was on the tip of my tongue: “Do you mean a literal six-day thingy that happened around 6000 years ago?” The asker was a self-proclaimed agnostic, although came from a Catholic background. How should I respond?

As I hesitated, I had a sudden epiphany about the roots of liberal theology. I wanted to say, “No, not as strictly and exactly as to be a literalist about it.” But at the same time, I knew that any faith she has (and I think she has more then she gives herself credit for) would be severely injured if someone who “knew” theology denied this simple doctrine. Perhaps it is only in my pride that I perceive this, but it seems as if people ask me theological questions, knowing I study theology. And usually the simple-sounding questions are quite deep: “Do you believe in Hell? In heaven? What happens when we die? I asked Jesus into my heart when I was six; am I saved? What is Communion? Are there three gods or one? Where were we before we were born?” And I am aware of the power that I have to either build up their faith or rip it to pieces with evident scorn and theologically-lofty sounding arguments they have no hope of answering.

This is the root of liberalism. The complex questions must be communicated to the masses so that they have ‘canned’ Christianity. It is too difficult to teach people about the dogma of the dual natures of Christ, or the threeness-oneness of the Trinity. Even with as many books as I have read on the subject, I still shrug at questions about heaven or hell asking for anything more then generalities. People want theologians to be smart and have the answers to un-answerable questions. And even lay theologians will sooner or later realize their power over the potential spiritual lives of their non-theologically learned associates. So, they make it simple. It is much easier to say, “No, I don’t believe in creation. The Bible’s just bunk,” then to say, “Well…let me try to explain,” or worse yet, “I don’t know.” And so liberal theology begins.

Of course, liberal theologians desire that laymen have the exact opposite impression of them: Laymen should think that liberals, in their obviously massive intellects have rationalized away ‘minor details’ like the divinity of Christ or the Persons of the Trinity. Laymen should think that liberal intellectual theologians have no time for the unsophisticated beliefs which reign in simple, pious parishes with no great theologians to lead them from the darkness of their faith to the light of atheism.

If my learning and intellectual theology leads me to this liberalism, then I am damned. As horrifying as the thought is to me, I even see the seeds of this in myself. Thankfully, a good, simple, pious priest offered me a good, simple, pious solution to this: humility. See, if the learned theologians can say to the simple laymen “I don’t know,” or “It’s very complex, but, yes, you can and should believe in the six-day creation,” without sounding haughty or condescending, then he will win that soul one step closer to God. Of course, this is where humility hurts: the liberals have their “canned” answer: They look smart, we look stupid. But we have the Truth, and that’s what matters.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 7:05 PM on Sunday, June 11, 2006 [+] ::

Complaining

I find myself with no time this summer for anything: I barely make it too church! Between work (8 hours/day), the bus (4 hours/day), and the time it takes me to eat and get ready for work the next day, I find myself with about 30 minutes of time each day…

…the majority of which I spend forcing myself not to complain.

I’ll post more when I have the time…

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 9:47 PM on Tuesday, June 06, 2006 [+] ::

Commencing

[Mostly an entry for you fellow chums!]

To commence something means to begin it. A few hours ago, I began.

Even as I type this, I am wearing the ring. The words, “Bonvm Veritas Pvlcher” stand out whiter then even the white silver that surrounds them. Finally, we knelt, were hit with the Bible, and rose to end it all with a rousing chorus of “Gaudeamus Igitur.” I have waited four years for it, anticipated it, oft envied the very ring I now wear. But what does it mean?

What have I begun? I have begun to be someone I was not four years ago --- a whole soul. I have changed in so many ways since being here. I am not necessarily smarter, but I am more complete, integrated, and more ‘me.’ When I entered Torrey, I was more of a “collection of connected soul parts” rather then a whole soul. I have learned that theology is not only what is done when engrossed in Augustine’s De Trinitate, but that which is done in the confessional. I have learned that if I don’t care, I won’t learn. If I don’t understand my chums over dinner, I won’t understand them in session, either. My tutors are people, like me, not automatons. The best session? I don’t remember the book, but rather that we, a group of “bright, highly motivated young people” ended in tears, singing “Jesus loves me.” And we really meant it. People are more important then ideas. Always! Some things are more important; I have learned how to tell what these are, when to express them, and when to wait for a better time and place.

I have learned to “be real,” but not in the modern “feel-good” sense. I can see my life for what it has been: that of a pampered American with no cause for angst. And yet rather then resent this and fall into the faux-angst of many modern pampered American students, I soberly put behind me the ways of my childhood and look forward as an adult able to act and take responsibility for those actions. I have been given much; much will be required.

I have learned to be a woman, not simply an “imitation man.” I have learned the deep honor and dignity inherent in my gender, and rather then trying to be something I am not, I have turned my attention to seeking to be the best that I am. It is not politically correct to say such things, but men as men should exhibit the goodness inherent to their gender: courage, strength, honor, valor, and the other qualities befitting a knight. To compliment men, women are needed to be women --- not false men. A lady presents herself modestly, humbly, meekly, gently, and is prudent and wise in her dealings.

In conclusion, I will likely forget the names of the circles of Dante’s Hell. Even now, I am not sure I remember which of Shakespeare’s Henry’s did what. Oedipus Rex, John Locke, Homer, and Aristotle are all starting to bleed together in my head, and yet I will never forget the lessons I have learned. Sometimes I wonder in Torrey: how much of my learning takes place in session, and how much at lunch/dinner, parties, Bible studies, plays, musicals, and other events? I have my academic knowledge --- it got me a few cords and a stole to wear tomorrow as I walk across stage. But infinitely more important is that which my soul has learned. And is just beginning to learn.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 9:40 PM on Friday, May 26, 2006 [+] ::

Unworthy

In all those technical senses, I’m prepared to receive the Eucharist. I’ve done A,B, and C, and so I should receive today, right? But I don’t feel ‘ready.’

It’s finals week, I’m graduating in 6 days (!!), and my mind is in two thousand different places. God and the state of my soul are, unfortunately, not the first on this list. I am not stressed (that has negative connotations), but scattered, tired, and excited. My mind is not ready for church, and my soul is not ready to receive God. So, should I approach?

Ringing in my ears are the words of my SF on the day of my baptism. He told me that now that I can receive the Eucharist, I should. If I am prepared but do not receive it because I do not want to, I am excommunicating myself (literally), that is presumptuous, and I would need to confess that self-excommunication before I receive again. But, I still don’t want to approach.

In the end, of course, I am not worthy. That’s the point, right? We are not worthy to receive God: the earth offered a cave to him who made the heavens with understanding. What can I offer him? I can and should try, but I am not going to be worthy. I must trust that in his mercy he desires not the death of this sinner, but that he should make his abode in my wretched heart and purify my soul by the fire of his divinity. In other words, it is exactly when I don’t feel worthy that I should approach. When I feel worthy…that’s when I need to reflect more.

And yet still…I am afraid.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 10:11 AM on Sunday, May 21, 2006 [+] ::

An Orthodox Missiology

We’ve all met Evangelicals who try to hand us tracts and ask us if we are ‘born again.’ Or we’ve answered the door to that friendly pair of young Mormon ‘elders’ who try to tell us about Moroni and becoming your own god. But what does evangelism look like for the Orthodox? What do (or should) we do?

Recently, I have seen a spate of articles dealing with the subject of evangelism among Orthodox Christians. I was beginning to wonder: should we really be knocking on doors, handing out tracts, or coming up with clever advertising campaigns? As I was editing my friend’s thesis on Orthodox Alaska, a novel thought struck me: maybe we should be Orthodox in our approach to evangelism.

What does traditional Orthodox evangelism look like? Well, it’s nowhere near as easy as knocking on doors, handing out tracts, or clever advertising. St. Herman went to Alaska not with a band of missionaries, but with a group of monks. They did not take evangelism classes, but they took their prayer ropes. They did not bring tracts, but they brought ikons. They did not come willing to meet the world on the world’s grounds, but they came to transcend this world, and to bring others with them.

This is incarnational evangelism. The salvation of the world came when God was born of a Virgin and was made flesh. This general salvation of our flesh becomes individual when we in community struggle to save ourselves by likewise becoming as God is. We are saved by reincarnating Christ in ourselves. This means that the Kingdom of Heaven is here, the Second Coming is happening, and the world is being saved --- all in the present tense. If Christ is truly incarnate in and is in our midst, then we live in the Eschaton: this is a what a saint does. No, it is not easy to be crucified with Christ, to struggle daily to confess him as Lord, to live out the beatitudes, loving your enemies and praying for your persecutors. But the world is saved by Christ coming into it, and we are the Body of Christ, then the world will be saved by us becoming Christ; literally, the world will be saved as we become saved.

I’m not saying it’s easy, or quick, or even guaranteed to work. After all, they crucified Jesus, and he let them do it. It’s not tract theology --- it’s the cross. But it is salvation.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 1:32 PM on Friday, May 12, 2006 [+] ::

Praying Hard

We all have our prayer lists: there are certain people for whom we pray every day. However, if you are like me, you are constantly fighting the urge to just repeat mindlessly the names from off of the list. But, then there are those times when you really want to pray especially for a specific person, be it a praise or a petition. How do you “pray hard” for someone?

Here’s an example: An acquaintance, J, was telling me how much he’s been struggling with his spiritual life, and how some really hard things had been happening recently. I didn’t have too many details, and yet he was clearly hurting, and I really wanted to pray for him. So, how do I do that? It doesn’t feel like enough just adding him to my daily prayer-list. Or how about another couple, T&R, who had their first baby yesterday morning? I really want to give thanks to God with them! But how do I?

I find myself too often drifting into emotional sentimentalism if I try to pray extemporaneously. And yet I feel as if it is impersonal to use the written prayers to give thanks or to petition God for specific things. Sure, there are specific one-or-two paragraph prayers for a whole slew of events, but I want to say more then one or two paragraphs. These are my friends, whom I care about!

I read the verse, “the Spirit itself [sic] maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered,” and yet I still feel as though I could do a significantly better job of voicing my own petitions. The two things I have found useful are the Paraklesis and the Akathist “Glory to God for All Things,” but both tend to feel impersonal, and I am almost sure there is more out there that I just don’t know about.

So, assuming you understand what I am saying, and assuming you too want to ‘pray hard’ about specific things, what do you do? What prayers do you use?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 5:40 PM on Saturday, May 06, 2006 [+] ::

On Not Cheating

I had a math test today. I didn’t cheat on it. But I might as well have.

This post could have alternatively be titled, “I Owe My Guardian Angel.” So, I had a major math test today. Most of the test involved memorizing and utilizing long and complex formulas (the class is “Advanced Statistics”); it was not testing knowledge of math so much as memorization of methods. Yours truly took a long time to carefully enter into her graphing calculator all of the formulas, their uses, their titles, and their relations before the test started. I then took that calculator to the test.

Here’s the thing: I was planning to cheat. I was justifying it to myself. Yesterday, I specifically asked the professor if I could use my calculator on the test; although he dislikes calculators and does not use them himself, he agreed. Then I got even more specific: Could I use all of the ‘special’ features on my calculator? Again, he said yes. Now, if my professor had known what I was planning to do with my calculator, he would have not approved. But he said I could use it…so I was justified.

As I said before, I didn’t cheat. Mostly because I think I did really well on the test, and because if I had cheated, I would have had to confess it and the Confessor would have most likely had me own up to my cheating, probably by telling the professor. I feel as though I have barely escaped sin, and it was not due to my own virtue. I was accidentally saved. The test was easy enough, I remember the formulas myself, and I got through it. But what if…? I was so close to doing it, yet I feel as though something other then me stopped me. Alone, I would have sinned. I still really can’t believe that I didn’t. Yes, “Seeing as we have so great a cloud of witnesses…” somehow is ringing through my head.

Through the prayers of our Holy Fathers, O Lord Jesus Christ our God, have mercy on us and save us !

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 9:18 PM on Wednesday, May 03, 2006 [+] ::

Food For Thought…

I distinctly remember 4 years ago, doing Freshman Initiatives with my Torrey group. All 16 of us Wesleyans were sitting on the concrete in front of the chapel, and they had just handed us fairly simple instructions for a card game. I was smart, right? I mean, after all, I had just aced my first year of a college honors program. The instructions for the game were simple and straight-forward. The only extra rule was that we were not allowed to speak once we started. Surely this wouldn’t interfere with such a simple game, especially among such bright students, right?

As we started our second round, I remember the sequence of thoughts as they entered my head. I was sitting across from P, a fellow chum, and a bright man. Suddenly, he started to play wrong. He took the wrong cards at the wrong time, and played cards that were illegal to play. First thought: Great, yet another stupid person who can’t even follow simple directions . Second thought (to my defense, this came almost instantly after the first thought): Wait. P is very bright. He can probably follow simple rules as well as I can. Something else must be going on. So, instead of correcting his ‘rules,’ I let him play with them. It turns out, we had been given different rules, but we had been told that we had the same rules. Embarrassing as it is, I must admit: that was the first time it had entered my head that someone else was at least as smart as I was, if not smarter. I was not in this alone!

Fast-forward four years to last week. While sharing my fears about seminary with my godsister, she mentioned how blessed I was, “Erica, you’ll be among people who love God as much as you, who love the Church as much as you do, and who are willing to give their lives just as much as you to service.” Again, to my embarrassment, I had never thought of that. It sounds quite conceited to admit it, but I am so wrapped up in myself that I had forgotten that there are other people who really love God, the Church, and all that stuff at least as much as I do…and even more. And I will be there with them. The thought, while it is still very new and unfamiliar to me, is of immense comfort and encouragement. Yes, I admit I am rightfully and deservedly the butt of all possible first-year seminarian jokes…but I can’t really care anymore --- I’m too excited!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 5:42 PM on Monday, May 01, 2006 [+] ::

Chrismation: The Holy Spirit

Christ is risen!

While I had thought a whole lot about the theology and implications of baptism before I was baptized, I had forgotten to think about the second, often overlooked mystery of chrismation.

Chrismation is the reception of the Holy Spirit. It is the fulfillment of St. Paul’s promise that we as believers are temples of the Holy Spirit (I Cor 6:19). It is the personal Pentecost of the believer once he has been baptized into Christ’s death; each of us is literally going through the whole life of the Church in just a few minutes: we die, are buried, resurrected, and receive the Holy Spirit unto life eternal. One of the Persons of the Trinity – God – has taken up his dwelling in my heart, and I am a living church. Even better, as the Church is able to receive Him Whom the heavens cannot contain into her womb, so I am now able as a temple of God to receive into myself that same He Who cannot be contained. In other words, as I partake of the body and blood of Christ, I too become not only a living temple of the Holy Spirit, but a living chalice of Christ. The two Persons of the Trinity who have reveled themselves (Son and Spirit) both abide in me.

How then can I sin? How can I dare to besmirch the grace I have been given, and have been receiving daily? I would not disrespect a church or a chalice, so how do I disrespect my body? This only highlights the backwardness and brokenness of sin: it should be impossible. Yet we are perverse and haughty enough to disregard even the God who created us, and to defile the temple in which he abides which he purchased with his own blood. We continually show ourselves unworthy of the grace we have received, and yet we receive it anyway. God, in his mercy, continues to pour out his Spirit upon us and nourish us with Himself. Glory be to God!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 10:22 AM on Tuesday, April 25, 2006 [+] ::

Baptism

I got baptized on Saturday, chrismated, and received the Eucharist for the first time.

In lieu of the many things I could say and will say in the future, I will encourage those who will soon be ending their own catechumenates with this: It’s more then worth it.

Have a blessed Holy Week!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 11:58 AM on Monday, April 17, 2006 [+] ::

I Don’t Care…And You Can’t Make Me

These last few weeks of Lent, I have been going to Confession (or whatever one calls it for a catechumen who isn’t receiving absolution). I remember my life confession: I was nervous and it was hard! Now, however, I have the opposite problem: confession is too easy. In short, I don’t care, and you can’t make me.

Most of you know me, and most of you know that I sin a lot. I do this, that, and the other thing. However, I have developed the insane (truly) ability to justify my sin to myself. “Well, everyone does that…” or “That’s not as bad as what he did…” or “It was just once…” or “I was tired…” My sins aren’t so bad. In fact, I’m a pretty good person…especially compared with her. I don’t need that much grace from God, ’cause hey, I got a pretty good bit of it in myself.

This deadly attitude ends up manifesting itself at the confessional. In a weirdly detached way, I can write my sins in all their details on a paper, and read that paper aloud in confession without feeling even embarrassment, much less compunction or repentance. In fact, what I dread most about my sin is not the fact that it is proud and damnable effrontery toward God, but that I have to read it aloud in front of the priest!

I think this is the definition of insanity. That which I should most abhor is that which does not even faze me. It makes me question basic things: If I really know and love the God who hates sin, why don’t I hate sin? How well do I know myself and the evil of which I am capable? Even more poignantly, how useful is confession without contrition? I am simply detachedly reading a list: why read it? I am not sorry for what I have done; I do not even know how to start becoming sorry. So, why confess? Aren’t I just damning myself more?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 10:10 AM on Tuesday, April 11, 2006 [+] ::

The Countdown Begins…

I am getting baptized in 5 days.

Perhaps if I keep saying it to myself, it will sink in. Every time I do think about it, however, I feel as if I have an intravenous line of caffeine going straight into my brain. It’s a little like sticking your tongue into an electrical outlet. Or jumping into Lake Tahoe in the winter.

Seriously, though, I am having the worst time focusing on anything this week, especially basic things like my prayer rule or being in church. My complacent (and thus sinful) half is telling me that I am crazy, making too big of a decision, jumping in too fast, and that I should just wait more. My other half (which I attribute to my guardian angel and/or patron, St. Seraphim) is saying that I have waited long enough, there is nothing else I need to do, and that to keep procrastinating is a sin. The fight between these two halves is enough to make anyone schitzo…[Oh. Wait. Nevermind.]

I have class, homework, a long drive home, and talking to my parents face-to-face to worry about; not to mention the end of Lent, Holy Week, and Pascha. I feel like a 5-year-old, who just wants to run home and say, “Stop looking at me!” Instead, I have to have everyone looking at me, saying quaint and nice things, and congratulating me.

So, the final days of my ‘freedom’ (slavery?) have begun. Please, pray for me. I need it.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 11:29 AM on Monday, April 10, 2006 [+] ::

Fighting Like Christians

I don’t know how many of you are following the current issues in the OCA. For those of you who aren’t, this may not make sense. For those of you who wish to decimate me for my thus-expressed political loyalites, please don’t. For those of you who are aware of the OCA/DOW current exchanges, I ask you to consider the following:

While there are some who are watching this scandal develop from the outside and using it as an occasion to mock or deride the Church, I have found it to be perhaps one of the most encouraging ecclesial phenomena I have ever observed. In the current letters, I have found the Christian witness of the parties involved to be uplifting and reassuring to my own faith; rather then diminishing my confidence, this has in fact increased my respect and faith in the Church as a whole.

While I do not know the authority of the press releases I reference here, if they are accurate, they are incredibly refreshing. Firstly, no one is talking about splitting. Coming from a Protestant background, I have seen splits over (no joke) carpet color in a new building. The realization that we can fight and still remain unified reassures me that while this institution we call the Church has seen her fair share of rough water, it is guided by a Divine Pilot and will not soon be broken up.

Secondly, as I belong to the Diocese of the West, I find myself with a growing respect for His Grace, Bishop Tikhon. While I may disagree with his letters, language, or approach, he clearly has a high vision of what the Church is and how it ought to be operated. He is dedicated to preserving the right order of things in accordance with the Canons. From his writing, it is clear that he cares passionately about the course of the Church, and is not going to be persuaded to do anything against his conscience as our arch-pastor. While I am not necessarily agreeing with his claims, his very calling of Metropolitan into question with reference to the papacy shows that he is keeping a close watch on all things ecclesial. Under him, I have confidence that the Church will be preserved.

Thirdly, Metropolitan Herman has displayed incredible wisdom and humility. Not only did he show his pastoral concern during this Lenten season, but he realized that even in a letter dealing with financial issues that he as arch-pastor must show this parental care. More admirably, however, he took responsibility for the actions of the diocese. Since he is not a pope, but rather first-among-equals, he could have easily averted the blame, used rhetoric to cover up his own mistakes, or simply not apologized. Instead, even from his Metropolitan’s throne, he wrote with monkish humility, “I wish to state unequivocally that I take full responsibility for what may have happened during my service as Primate of the Church…If I have failed…I ask for your forgiveness and God’s guidance to enable me to undertake whatever corrective measures may still be necessary.” For anyone who still doubts, our Church is not an institution by the hands of men, but is truly the body of Christ. If this humility and compassion have not removed doubts, nothing will.

Yes, I have my eyes open, and I am aware of the scandal. Yes, I know that it is bad. But I have a newfound confidence that the grace of God is truly with our bishops, and more importantly, that “God is with us.”

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 12:30 PM on Friday, April 07, 2006 [+] ::

St. Vladimir’s: A Visitor’s Candid Report

I just got back from four days at St. Vladimir’s Seminary in New York, touring it as a potential graduate school. It is one of two schools to which I have been accepted, the other one being Catholic University of America. The following report is based on my impressions of the school; I know it is judgmental, but I feel as though this is justified.

Firstly, St Vladimir’s is unable to decide if it was a graduate school or a monastery, and so it has self-consciously settled with the title ‘seminary.’ This self-consciousness is obvious in many daily facets. That students are awakened by a bell, or that the dining facilities are called ‘the refectory,’ reflect the monastic side of the seminary. The high caliber academics and beautiful library reflect are more typical of a standard grad school. At least as a prospective student, I could feel an awareness of this same odd self-conscious balancing act; be it good or bad, it was there.

My second major reflection is the both to the caliber of academic content and the rather sad condition of the women’s dorms. I was almost sure that while the buildings on campus would be new and nice, the academics would be shoddy or sub-par. I was partially pleasantly surprised at the opposite: while one could certainly hope for better dorm situations, the classes seemed surprisingly rigorous.

So, now for the crux: Should I go there? I am still unsure, but I am not sure why I am. Partially, I fear loosing the wonderful community I have here at Torrey; partially, I have no idea what I would do next year if I did not go to grad school. One thing I am (thankfully) rather sure about is that I will not go to Catholic University. I am hesitant, however, because I generally feel very sure about these kind of decisions: I had no doubts about going to Biola, enrolling in Torrey, going to Oxford, living at Raphael House, &c. I find myself oddly confident about major decisions in my life; however, I am simply lacking that confidence in this decision. Part of that is probably exhaustion and stress (I haven’t been sleeping much, and I have three midterms to make-up this week), but I would appreciate your prayers that God will lead me as I make major life decisions.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:51 PM on Sunday, April 02, 2006 [+] ::

Far, far away…

As I type this, I am sitting in the women’s dorm at St. Vladimir’s. Regular posting will resume when I return…

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 6:58 PM on Thursday, March 30, 2006 [+] ::

The KING and his FOUR WIVES

Forward from a friend

Once upon a time there was a rich King who had four wives. He loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to the finest of delicacies. He gave her nothing but the best.

He also loved the 3rd wife very much and was always showing her off to neighboring kingdoms. However, he feared that one day she would leave him for another.

He also loved his 2nd wife. She was his confidant and was always kind, considerate and patient with him. Whenever the King faced a problem, he could confide in her, and she would help him get through the difficult times.

The King's 1st wife was a very loyal partner and had made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and kingdom. However, he did not love the first wife. Although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her!

One day, the King fell ill and he knew his time was short. He thought of luxurious life and wondered, "I now have four wives with me, but when I die, I'll be all alone." Thus, he asked the 4th wife, "I have loved you the most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?"

"No way!", replied the 4th wife, and she walked away without another word. Her answer cut like a sharp knife right into his heart. The sad King then asked the 3rd! wife, "I have loved you all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?"

"No!", replied the 3rd wife. "Life is too good! When you die, I'm going to remarry!" His heart sank and turned cold.

He then asked the 2nd wife, "I have always turned to you for help and you've always been there for me. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?" I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!", replied the 2nd wife. "At the very most, I can only send you to your grave." Her answer came like a bolt of lightning, and the King was devastated.

Then a voice called out: "I'll leave with you and follow you no matter where you go." The King looked up, and there was his first wife. She was so skinny as she suffered from malnutrition and neglect.

Greatly grieved, the King said, "I should have taken much better care of you when I had the chance!"

In truth, we all have 4 wives in our lives: Our 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it will leave us when we die. Our 3rd wife is our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, it will all go to others. Our 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how much they have been there for us, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave.

And our 1st wife is our Soul. Often neglected in pursuit of wealth, power and pleasures of the world. However, our Soul is the only thing that will follow us wherever we go! Cultivate, strengthen and cherish it now, for it is the only part of us that will follow us to the throne of God and continue with us throughout Eternity.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 11:52 PM on Tuesday, March 21, 2006 [+] ::

Seminary, here I come…

I just got accepted to St. Vladimir’s! Woohoo!

I’m visiting in two weeks. Anything I should watch out for?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 10:18 PM on Monday, March 13, 2006 [+] ::

Prayer Appreciated

I am in the process of telling my parents about my upcoming baptism. It is and will yet be a difficult and emotional process for both sides. My mom feels as if I am rejecting that in which I was raised. For my dad, all discussion of religion is painful and difficult. I have dreaded this discussion for years. Don’t leave comments with trite and canned answers; please, they will only frustrate me and will not work. But if you think about it, please do pray. Thanks.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 8:35 PM on Sunday, March 12, 2006 [+] ::

The following is a letter I wrote to the editor of my school newspaper. It will probably not be printed in its fullness, but since I know many of you are Biolans, I encourage you to read the article in this week's paper as well as my response.

Dear Sirs:

I was insulted and disgusted by your recent article entitled, “Few Biolans celebrate season of Advent.” Aside from the obvious informational error that Advent is the 40 days before Christmas (the 40 days before Easter are called Lent), the first sentence categorically insults the majority of Christendom, and the remainder of the article perpetuates and reinforces ignorant stereotypes.

“Though Lent is traditionally a Catholic practice, Christians often consider to be [sic] valuable addition to Easter celebration [sic].” Perhaps I can both theologically and gramatically rephrase this sentence to better convey my sense of indignation, “Though Lent is traditionally a Christian practice, Protestants often consider it to be a valuable addition to the Easter celebration.” Have I made my point?

After denying the faith of much of Christendom, the author continues to promote common Protestant misconceptions about Lent. While I am not here to quibble about the definition of “the church,” the author clearly has an adequate conception, as she states that a certain local church believes, “Catholics are also part of the church.” In this light, the purpose of Lent can be rephrased not as “to stop doing what I choose,” but rather “to submit my will to the authority of the ‘church.’” In other words, I do not get to decide what I give up for Lent. As part of the renunciation of my own will, I am told by the “church” how I will fast, pray, and give alms during this holy season. It is not an excuse to diet, give up video games, or watch less T.V. It is a holy obligation to pray more, fast more, give more, and to put more effort into working out my salvation. To trivialize or promote false information about these difficult and salvific practices is not only to insult Christendom, but to flaunt your ignorance before the eyes of those who truly practice the sacred fast of Great Lent.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 12:46 PM on Friday, March 10, 2006 [+] ::

For I Knew and I Understood What I Did

This week, on Wednesday, we will hear in the fifth canticle of the Canon of St. Andrew of Crete this poignant line: “When I examine my actions, O Savior, I see that I have gone beyond all men in sin; for I knew and understood what I did; I was not sinning in ignorance.”

This is the painful and amazing part of Lent. How many times have I said to myself, “I know it’s a sin, but I’ll do it now and confess it later?” In one way, I am very ignorant of my sins; this is called mercy. If we knew our sins, we would despair of our salvation in light of our depravity. But in another way, I am very aware of whether or not a specific action constitutes a sin, thanks to my conscience.

But this line gives me hope. It reminds me that I am not the only one who knows clearly and understands clearly what my sin is. And I sin anyway. I am like a bratty child; I am only thankful that God is my merciful Father.

Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 1:00 PM on Saturday, March 04, 2006 [+] ::

Ki (Chi)

I am taking a karate class this term taught by a good, practicing Anglo-Catholic. It is a fun class: hitting people is fun, being hit is fun, and wearing a gi is fun(ny). Now, given that I go to Biola (where Biblical and Protestant Christian truth really does rule the day) and that I know my teacher is pious, I generally trust that what we are taught accords with a Christian worldview. What exactly then is ki (or ‘chi,’ as in tai-chi, in Chineese)?

Our teacher explained it as the non-physical force in physical things; the ‘spirit’ of things if you will. It can be harnessed and used for such things as breaking boards or avoiding being hit. It can make people oddly strong or unmovable. He told a story about a girl rather new to karate with such a strong ki that, with her eyes closed, she could tell where someone was pointing at her.

In class, we did a few ki exercises. In one, we paired up and one of the people stiffened his arm by tightening his muscles. His partner tried to bend his arm at the elbow; most arms bent. The ki part was the second time we did it. We were told to hold our arms straight and imagine a fire hydrant-full of water coming out of our hands; arms were to be completely relaxed, and the water was supposed to loosely flow. Our partners tried to bend our arms as we were relaxed and focused. Nothing. Next we made a ring with our fingers (thumb to index finger). If we tightened our muscles, our partners could pull it open. If we relaxed and focused on “the energy flowing in a circle around [our] fingers,” our fingers were unmovable.

Weird? Yeah. Spooky? Well, I was quite spooked, but I did it because we were doing it in class. I know the instructor (and my instructor’s instructor, the Anglican priest to whom I made my first confession before I even knew of Orthodoxy!), and I knew that he wouldn’t lead us into anything weird, right? Knowing how opinionated everyone out there is, has anyone heard of this before? What do you think about it? Is it OK for a Christian to do? Is it something that is true even if a Christian doesn’t believe in it or use it? Is there really a non-physical force all physical objects possess? Is it something one should hone, or just leave alone?

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 11:30 PM on Wednesday, March 01, 2006 [+] ::

All Good Things Must Come to an End…

All argument and stupid jurisdictional stuff aside…all good things must come to an end. Like, for example, my catechumenate. In other words…

::: I’m getting baptized!!!:::

Woohoo! Lazarus Saturday at St. Seraphim. That means this Lent is going to be killer, especially since I can’t make it to Pre-Sanctified Liturgies. But I’m getting baptized! After four years of waiting, I’ll finally get to taste the Eucharist. I’m at least 50% sure I want to do this…I think…and I’m pretty excited/nervous. I have about a month and a half until I’m actually Orthodox. Please, pray for me this Lent!

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 1:07 PM on Monday, February 27, 2006 [+] ::

The Western Rite

Please, don’t beat me up if you disagree, and forgive me if I offend you!

Yesterday at the club fair, I discovered that one of the students whom I had always thought was Roman Catholic (he prays the rosary, responds when I ask “How was Mass?” and other hints of the type) was actually Western Rite Orthodox.

The Western Rite Church is the closest Orthodox church to Biola. No, I have never been. No, I don’t plan to ever go. Perhaps my intuitions are wrong, but it is too Protestant for me to go. Wait…how can a Catholic-feeling Orthodox church be too Protestant for an ex-Protestant Orthodox catechumen?

Protestants frequently seek (or claim to be seeking) an ancient, authentic church, theology, or form of worship. This is justification for many of the things they do: unaffiliated churches, ‘house’ churches, informal worship, lack of centralized leadership, &c. While these may or may not have in fact been part of the early Christian communities, one thing is certain: the form these Protestants are seeking died out long ago. To resurrect it is to resurrect a figment of the past with no historical connection to the present. It is to reform (every pun intended!) ancient Christianity and to try to falsely place disconnected elements of it into the modern world. It is bound to fail.

With all due respect to the 100% convert Western Rite Church, this is what they do. I am making no argument as to whether or not their particular tradition ever flourished in times past. I am saying that it is dead, and has been dead for a while. And they are trying to re-form it from its ashes. And it is bound to fail. There is not enough history, enough root, enough connection with the Church as a whole for this new innovation to succeed.

Back in the real world, when I found out this person was not in fact Catholic, but that he went to the local WRO church, I smiled and nodded. What can I say? I hesitate to say anything: remember that old adage your mother taught you about saying nice things? And I don’t want to alienate the few Orthodox we do have on campus. So, I smiled and nodded. But I can’t shake that feeling.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 5:33 PM on Tuesday, February 21, 2006 [+] ::

Judgment and the Rules of Church

Yesterday, I attended a friend’s church, a nameless Orthodox church in the greater Los Angeles area. It being the Sunday of the Pharisee and the Publican, I found my own judgmentalness ironic at first, but later it devolved into a more straightforward questioning of practice.

At first, I kept running into the pews every time I tried to do anything. And I was the only one standing up. Now, given that I was in the back (on purpose), this wasn’t so big of a deal, but it still made it a little awkward. The altar rail surrounding the ambov and elevated podium on the left of the church from where the Gospel was read made me a little more awkward. So did seeing very western murals (‘ikon’ is not the right word!) featuring Moses with horns* (!) at a church which supposedly received the Scriptures in Greek. Fewer than 25% of those who received the Eucharist were there for the Gospel reading, or even the homily. And that’s being generous! So, yes, I was being judgmental.

The first reaction I had to realizing my own judgmentalness was that it was the week of the Pharisee and Publican: we weren’t supposed to be proud about the way we prayed! So, I struggled with that for a while, and slowly my judgmentalness evolved into something else.

Why do we have rules in church? Why do we stand? Cross ourselves? Why is our art the way it is? Why do we set up our altar the way we do? Why do we do things in our own distinct way? Why are we encouraged to arrive to service on time? Why are we in church at all?

Yes, I was wrong in being judgmental of the church. But, simultaneously “they” (whomever that may be) were wrong for disregarding the rules. Now, I understand that rules and laws do not save: don’t worry, I plan to have ice cream on both Wednesday and Friday this week! But at the same time, they are there for our health. The Eucharist is fire: don’t approach it if you have just run in from the parking lot as the priest is bringing it out from the altar! We stand to show respect; we would not be sitting if the bishop (a man) were there: why would we sit for God? Our ikons have a spiritual depth to them to transport our minds from things of this earth to things above. We have our rules because they are good for us, even if they do not save us (in so many words).

So, yes, I should not have judged the church. But my own sin aside, is it still possible for me to stand back and say, “You should have done better?” Yes, I think it is.

* Moses has horns in Western art because of a misinterpretation/mistranslation in the Vulgate of the word for the glory of God which shone from his face. All the way through the middle ages, the guy in Western iconography with horns is Moses.

Forgive me,

Seraphima

Glory to God!

:: 4:14 PM on Monday, February 13, 2006 [+] ::