Missions and Stuff

 

The photo to the left is our "maiden voyage" at St. Patrick Orthodox Mission of Carrollton.  Most of the people depicted are from our parent church, St. John the Wonderworker in Atlanta.  The priest, Fr. Tom, is retired from and still attached to St. John.  The deacon, Deacon Stephen, is blessed by St. John's rector, Fr. Gabe, to serve at St. Patrick, but he is also formally attached to St. John.  The subdeacon, Subdeacon Matthew, serves at St. John.  Even the adorable little communicant with her mother is visiting from St. John.

You can see half of the head of Reader John Childs just to the right of mom's headcovering.  He's all ours.

This was hardly our first service.  We've had probably close to a hundred or more of those.  But it was our first Divine Liturgy, and our first service as a mission that now serves liturgies on Sundays, and thus it was a big day for us. Interestingly, the picture doesn't really tell the story.  We are still a very young mission.  In terms of core Orthodox membership, there are three main families, some folks who visit a lot, and our core catechumens.  Only one catechuman has yet been received, but we hope that number will increase soon.  In fact, when we first started visitors outweighed "core" people who were brought up by the mission or joined after it was formed by a substantial margin.  Today, that isn't really the case.  In addition to the family shown here, we had a few other visitors, but most of our communicants were "our people."  Most of our non-communicant visitors were as well.

Little things matter when missions are young.  My wife and I took the weekend off for an anniversary trip.  That left a lot of "to do" stuff in the hands of folks who are more than competent to do it, but used to having extra hands around.  Others in our core leadership will do the same as time goes on.  Many hands make light work.  You learn to incorporate new people into that labor to divide the workload.  You observe who among your people is inclined to pitch in without being asked.  You learn to ask even if you think it is uncomfortable to do so in other settings. Responsibilities are organized and re-organized. It sometimes feels like everything is in flux, but the path to solidity is often unpaved.

Other little things matter too.  When you're a small mission started by people who have never done this before, "learning things as you go" can sometimes be more difficult.  We have been pleased at the support we have received from our leadership, especially Fr. Gabe, but also our Dean and Chancellor and, by extension, our Archbishop. A lot of grace is given to allow us to be successful. 

We've been a little surprised at the lack of updated written guidelines. There are guidelines, but they are not easily accessible on the diocesan or Archdiocesan websites. That is not a criticism of the diocese or Archdiocese by any means -- somehow it still manages to work out because the people in charge of new missions are very good at what they do. But it would have sure saved us a lot of early confusion and grief if more publicly available guidance were present.  Even if it were only a list of names to call if you would like to start a mission. We were fortunate the Chancellor of the Diocese of the South was visiting St. John the Wonderworker when two of our founders were there, and they struck up a conversation with him about starting a mission in Carrollton. But what if we were not so fortunate?  What if their priest wasn't retiring and the Chancellor had no reason to be there? But missions teach you, and they teach you that wishcasting doesn't bake any bread.  So inspired by the "DIY" spirit that permeates any young mission, it has occurred to us that we might ask a blessing to help revise and update the diocesan and Archdiocesan guidelines to assist future missions in their efforts. Don't talk about it.  Be about it.

There are challenges for sure. But there is something about being at the beginning of what we pray will be a long and enduring presence in a town that did not have an Orthodox presence before. It might tempt one to pride if it were not so humbling. Measures of our individual and collective unworthiness abound. We persist not because we wish to be seen by men, but because we know God is at work despite our failings. We have seen the fruit of His labor among us. Whatever our failings, He is using us and those He places in our path to effect His will.

I'm sure I'll have more to say as time goes on. For now, it is enough to say that we are blessed and thankful.

Outrage Pornography

 

Tim Kreider coined the phrase "outrage pornography" over 15 years ago now. Then and now, it encapsulates so much of what social media has wrought on our society.

The concept is simple.  So much of what we read, watch, and listen to in society is designed to stir up our emotions.  Not because it is a moral good, but because it increases engagement, and engagement is the lifeblood of the vampires in charge of our media and social discourse these days.

Over the past several years, I have stopped posting much about politics at all.  It isn't because I don't have opinions.  It isn't because I think those opinions aren't valid or that I'm not fit to discuss those matters publicly.  It's because somewhere around the last election, I began to realize that our political discussion tends to be warped.  People actually identify as being on a political side more than they identify with other vocations they may have.  As if it is politics that defines them.  And that ends in a reductionist worldview where if I am "this," then people who aren't "this" (or worse, people who are "that") aren't like me.

But I'm more than a set of political opinions.  I'm a musician.  I'm a Christian.  I'm a lawyer.  I'm a father, and a son, and a husband.  I'm a hunter.  I am an occasional fisherman.  I like good bourbon and good cigars. I like baseball, football and basketball.  So I figured -- rightly so it turns out -- that if I posted more about that stuff, I'd have less conflict with people who share those things in common with me, and more camaraderie.  Meaning, I'd find my neighbor again, because I'm neither putting them off by assuming their political views should match mine, nor being put off by them because their political views do not always match mine.

A lot of my friends did not do as I did.  I see political posts left and right.  I see other types of posts that aren't overtly political, but which are provocative, modern "edginess" being substituted for thoughtful discourse.  As one might expect, the more outraged one is, the higher the volume of such posts.  I don't fault my friends for this -- my choice is mine, and I don't expect others to necessarily do what I did.  But I do observe, and as I observe, I have a question:  Is this healthy? 

I tend to think it is not.  If all you ever post about is politics, I tend to tune you out.  That's not a partisan issue -- I don't like overtly political posts from people I agree with either.  But neither is it simply distaste on my part.  I actually think it's bad for the person doing the posting. Outrage is no basis for change.  Outrage is not inspiring.  Literally nobody cares about your anger, except those who are already angry alongside you.  So what may feel to you like a call to action ends up being a performative fiction, one reason the rise of the phrase "virtue signaling" came alongside the phrase "outrage pornography."  Again, this is not a partisan issue.  Everybody is mad about something these days.  The thing is, I have changed my mind on a lot of political and social issues over the years.  But I've never done it because someone I know was very, very angry that I didn't agree with them.

Two of my former priests told me, at different times, that if you want to change the world, you should be working to acquire holiness.  I cannot say that was the catalyst for me posting less about political issues on social media.  I had already begun doing that before the first one told me that.  But I can say that this encouragement strengthened my resolve to post less about that stuff.  Why?  As Father Paul put it, we should come to the Church to receive the gifts of God, and then go out into the world having received those gifts, and stay out of the way so the light of Christ can shine through us.  I tend to think, based on observation, that one way we stand in front of the light is when we place our politics and our opinions over our neighbor.  If we define our neighbor by how much or how little they agree with us, then we make ourselves and our opinions to be idols.  Instead of seeing Christ in our neighbor, we see someone opposed to Christ, because we have identified ourselves as the God-figure in this scenario, and someone else's disagreement with our politics is now apostasy instead of simply a different perspective.  

This is of greater concern as I view the Church today.  We have quite a lot of people seeking the Orthodox Church.  Some of them are seeking refuge from theological rigorism and quasi-fundamentalism.  Most are seeking refuge from relativism and antinomianism.  In either case, the Church has an answer, and a good one, but only if you seek the Church on her terms, not your own.  The Orthodox Church is not a Republican institution.  It is not a Democratic institution.  It certainly is not identified with one of the micro-parties in America, and it isn't identified with any party of any other country either.  The Orthodox Church claims allegiance to a Kingdom which is not of this world. Trying to cram your own political whims into that Kingdom is an exercise in folly.  But if you can let go of that and let the Church teach you, you will find that politics doesn't seem all that important anymore.  You will learn the meaning of "put not your trust in princes."  And you will begin, ever so slowly, to realize that government, like any other human institution, can be good or bad from a Christian perspective, but it is never overtly Christian, even when (perhaps especially when) it pretends to be.

The other danger is people who think in binary political terms tend to use their opinions as a litmus test.  I cannot say how many times I've had a conversation with someone and they interject their political opinions as if I should naturally agree with them.  And if I don't, the conversation takes an uncomfortable turn.  Which is to say, people who tend to stay outraged over politics and bond with others over sharing that outrage also tend to think that everyone else should share their outrage.  It's not enough to just not want to talk about it.  Silence is violence or some such nonsense.

We can do better.  We should do better.  My non-Christian friends can get a pass on this, even though I think they would be happier if they took the approach I suggest.  But I hope to encourage my Christian friends to consider whether overt, biased and partisan political views are consistent with what my former priests encouraged.  Is this holiness?  Or is it something else?  If it is something else, perhaps it is to be tempered instead of amplified.  We are more than our opinions.  And we ought not submit to the temptation to be outraged.  And if the culture refuses to go along with us, then perhaps we will learn what it means to be Christians.  The Church should bend the culture, not bend to it.

The Stuff

 "Beware of limiting the good of fasting to mere abstinence from meats. Real fasting is
alienation from evil. ‘Loose the bands of wickedness.’ Forgive your neighbour the mischief he has done you. Forgive him his trespasses against you. Do not ‘fast for strife and debate.’ You do not devour flesh, but you devour your brother. You abstain from wine, but you indulge in outrages. You wait for evening before you take food, but you spend the day in the law courts. Woe to those who are ‘drunken, but not with wine.’ Anger is the intoxication of the soul, and makes it out of its wits like wine."


-- St. Basil, in his homilies on the Holy Spirit


The Orthodox faith is not the acceptance of a set of beliefs, or adherence to a set of rules.

Let me say that again. The Orthodox faith is NOT the acceptance of a set of beliefs, or adherence to a set of rules.

Why do I bring this up? Because in the circle of friends and acquaintances I have, I see too much equating of Orthodoxy with rulekeeping. What I call "doing the stuff."

The explanation of what I mean by this is simple. Keep your prayer rule. Do the fasts. Go to the services. Kiss the right stuff in the right order. Wear the appropriate clothing. Use the correct words.

As I've said before, there is absolutely nothing at all wrong with this. "The stuff" is part of our Tradition for a reason. But I was speaking to a friend recently who was given very strict instructions for keeping the Lenten fast. My friend said "I did it, but I have never felt farther away from God."

That makes sense to anyone who truly lives an Orthodox life. "Doing the stuff" isn't magic. "Doing the stuff" doesn't make you holy. "Doing the stuff" is not what brings you closer to God. As St. Basil says above, fasting is done to train the body and soul. But it must be done out of love. It must never be done out of obligation or compulsion. Why? Because obligation and compulsion are foreign to love. They, in fact, destroy love. If you don't believe this, try telling your wife or husband they are required to do something because you say so. Report back your findings in the comment section. We may require stricter obligation from our children to protect them while they are young, but eventually we cut those apron strings too. Love is reciprocal, not impositional.

Father Paul once told me "Reader John, if I tell you that you must do something, then you will only do so much as is required to please me and no more. But if I show you the value in doing something, you will choose to do it as diligently as you can." I have found this to be true. The topic wasn't fasting, but his point still stands. Orthodoxy is not about compulsion to "do the stuff." Orthodoxy is about entering into union with God. "The stuff" is great, to the extent it draws you into union with God. And it will, if you will let it. But "the stuff" never takes the place of the virtues such as love, forgiveness, meekness, kindness, charity, humility. Rather, "the stuff" teaches us to practice those virtues by denying ourselves. And the only way it works is if you enter into it freely and not out of compulsion or perceived obligation. We do "the stuff" because we love Christ and His Church. If those within the Church attempt to bind us to "the stuff," then "the stuff" becomes an idol. Instead of deepening our union with Christ, it binds us instead to the rule and the person imposing it. Which, as my friend noted, makes us feel farther from God, not closer, because we are putting "the stuff" in between ourselves and God.

This is not a statement against fasting. We fast in my family, and we try to do so diligently, and we fail, and then we try some more. When we fail, we confess (I have been told by more than one priest "that is not a sin" when I confess I haven't kept the fast well, for what it's worth). And then we get up and put one foot in front of the other and continue striving.

Why? Certainly not because God needs us to fast. Certainly not because some priest told us we have to. No, we fast because fasting is good for us. We pray for the same reason. We attend services for the same reason. We crave the Sacraments for the same reason. We do these things because we love Christ and His Church. If we do them for any other reason, then we fall into the trap of self-justification, which ultimately is pride. So sure -- do the stuff. Do all of it, and do it as diligently as you can. But please, dear Christians, do not get wrapped around the axle worrying about how well you do them. If your priest doesn't understand this, then pray for him. But do not let him rob you of the joy of fasting, or praying, or doing any of the other stuff. The stuff is good. Pride is the enemy.

Kindness, Appearances, Judgment, Absolution, Prayer

 

It is a basic truth that "you can't judge a book by its cover."  There is a post making the rounds on Facebook since last evening that encapsulates a proper Christian attitude toward this truism:

"One Sunday Metropolitan Anthony Bloom gave a sermon as follows:

'Last night a woman with a child came to this church. She was in trousers and with no headscarf. Someone scolded her. She left. I do not know who did that, but I am commanding that person to pray for her and her child to the end of his days to God for their salvation. Because of you she may never go to church again.'

He turned around, head down, and entered the Altar. That was the entire sermon."

Wow!  "To the end of his days....."   Such a harsh judgment.  

But is it?

Our first response might be triumphalistic: "The Metropolitan has put this person to work, punishing him with dutiful daily prayer for this person and her child."  That was certainly my first instinct.  I told a friend who re-posted the story above, "repentance is hard, being nice is easy."  What I meant at the time was "that's a lot of work, that'll teach him!"

Having slept on it, I'm convinced this is the wrong approach.  Rather than punishing the offender, the Metropolitan is teaching him by showing him the path to humility, and reminding him that Christ loves this woman just as much as Christ loves the man who scolded her.  He is placing the man in service to the woman and her child, making her salvation and her child's salvation his business.  

And why should it not be?  We think of it as punishment because it is a command, a duty he now owes.  We consider it a burden because he does not know her, or her child, and yet he is now bound to them, for the rest of his life, for a moment of poor judgment.  And yet, isn't it a joy to pray for the salvation of others?  And wasn't it his decision to enter into her world and make her and her child his business in the first place?  Doesn't Christ put people into our lives that we might remember them and pray for them?  Why is it a burden to pray for someone you offended (or who offended you), but not for, say, someone whose entrance into the Church you sponsored?  We count the latter as joy and the former as work.  But the truth is, both are joy!

His prayer for her and her child does not undo the hurt he caused.  As I've said many times, you can say "I'm sorry," but you cannot undo emotional hurt any more than you can unbreak a bone.  The absolution is not in the act, or even in God's forgiveness.  God forgives, always, and we should too.  Instead, the absolution is in the untying of you to your act of sin, and tying you instead to an act of mercy.  

The word "absolve" does not roughly equate to "get out of jail free."  Rather, it means to release or set free.  It comes from a French root that means to loosen, divide, or cut apart.  Absolution is not a matter of being declared not guilty, or even making good what you did wrong.  Sometimes you are guilty and sometimes you cannot undo what you did wrong.  Absolution is cutting you loose from the damage you have done, and lashing you instead to Christ and His mercy, and His love for the one you injured.  And that is enough.

I'm sure the Metropolitan was at least a little perturbed at the mistreatment of this woman and, by extension, her child.  Yet, our cultural conditioning that views the Christian life and service to God in terms of reward and punishment distorts the reality of what is happening here.  The offending man should be happy, even excited, to pray for this woman and her child.  He should, for sure, mourn the damage he did.  But rather than self-flagellating by being forced to ....... pray for her? (it seems silly when you just say what is happening), this man is being bound to a person whom he decided to berate, not to punish him, but to teach him to love her and her child as Christ loves him and them. Learning to love is not punishment.  It is a gift.

I can tell you from long experience that grudges are easy to hold and hard to let go of.  Praying for the one against whom you hold the grudge is usually the best medicine.  It should be no different when you think you have offended someone.  Pray for them.  Pray for their salvation.  Pray that you not be the stumbling block that keeps them from the Kingdom.  

And do so joyfully. It is not a punishment.  St. Stephen welcomed his own murderer into heaven with open arms.  The least we can do is pray for those upon whose toes we step.

Returning to Catechesis and Reception

The road to Orthodoxy is usually the subject of blogs, including this one (which started as a "journey" type blog).  The road through Orthodoxy has become a more common theme here, but is rarely discussed as much.

One of the things that has typified our journey to and through Orthodoxy is this -- nothing ever stays the same.  Things change.  People change.  Parishes change.  We lose bishops, even Metropolitan bishops. Even Patriarchs. We change priests. The Church adapts to the new hierarchs and pastors and continues on.  Sometimes we ride those waves out with a smile, sometimes with a tear.  But the Church is ever onward, and so are we.

I was asked last week to sponsor a young man for reception into the Orthodox Church.  I was, of course, happy to do it.  He attends a small Orthodox mission we're involved with, and was being received at the parent church of my home church.  He is also the very first member of St. Patrick Orthodox Mission who was not already Orthodox when the mission was founded.  It was unmitigated joy to help him enter the Orthodox faith.

 

As part of that, though, there was an added benefit of being reminded of why we're here.  Due to some issues we've dealt with, it's been several years since I've sponsored anyone.  It's easy to forget what a blessing it is, even though I've witnessed numerous receptions at my home parish in those years.  It's more intense when you're standing there with the soon-to-be-illumined.  You hear the prayers, the admonitions, the exhortations, the beckoning of the Church.  You remember the brush crossing your eyes, your ears, your forehead, your lips.  You remember the first time you received communion within the Church, and the overwhelming feeling that you were finally home.  There is always joy in a reception.  You are just closer to it as a sponsor.

I am blessed that I will see another round of these this coming Saturday at my own parish.  I will not be a sponsor, but I will see them with a renewed zeal.  I will witness them with a refreshed perspective.  There is something about Holy Week that is a relief, even though you are turning up the volume of services and the length of them as well.  It is a lot of work, and little rest.  And it is worth it if only to be reminded of why we are here -- soon, we will shout "Christ is risen!"

One thing I appreciate about the Orthodox Church and her rituals is this -- the ceremonies, the rites, the services, they all catechize.  They teach us.  Going back and reviewing the basics is good.  Remembering our own baptism is good.  Remembering when we entered into the Church is good. Looking below this to the prior post, where my own reception and that of my family is memorialized in photographic form, is a reminder that we, too, once stood at the doorstep of the Church, begging entrance. Glory to God for the reminder of that joy, and many years to His newly illumined servant, Alfred.  God is good, always.

Fourteen Years

 

Fourteen years ago this Nativity my family and I were received into the Church. We had no way of knowing what that would mean. The ways in which the Church would enrich us, teach us, humble us, even hurt us. 

Along the way I was ordained a reader, earned a St. Stephen certificate, learned Byzantine chant, then left the Byzantine tradition for the Russian tradition, learned some Russian chant, and helped to start a mission. 

I met many of the Church's bishops, most of them amazing, but some not so much. I met many priests, most of them amazing, others not so much. I got to see the Church from the inside, where the veneer of piety and holiness sometimes hides the rot beneath 

But I also met many friends, and tragic (and needless) situations and the hurt they caused gave way to new friendships and new bonds. Perhaps some of those too will end in heartache. But most won't, and I know this because most haven't. 

The Church is messy. She is often unkind and cruel. But that is only because beneath her holiness, she is human. Our path to salvation is corporate. We only get there by rubbing up against other humans and their selfishness and their myopia. More important, they only get there by rubbing up against us and ours. The path is humility, patience, love and forgiveness. 

If it seems impossibly hard, it is because we cannot see our neighbor as Christ sees our neighbor. We are blind. Little by little, the Church gives us brief glimpses of reality. Sometimes those glimpses hurt, but it is only because we remain self-centered. 

In this 14 year journey I've never seriously considered being anything other than an Orthodox Christian. We have the worst sales pitch possible. But in the end, I am a part of the Church. And even as she hurts me, she teaches me that I am only capable of being hurt due to pride. There is nowhere else to go, because there is nowhere else where that truth is found in its fullness. The truth hurts, as they say. Now I know what that truly means. 

I cannot change others. I ought not want to. We attend to our own sins. We forgive others theirs. We often fail at both. Lord have mercy on me, the sinner.

The Troparion of the Mediocre Saint

Somehow I missed it the first time.  I know I missed it because I went and checked the Facebook post where it was first broadcast, and I neither reacted nor responded.  Another friend shared it and somehow I missed that too.  But the post below might be the second best post my friend Steve Robinson has ever made.

Ordinary Saints - by Steve Robinson (substack.com)

I've just had the pleasure of spending quite a lot of time with Steve, along with a whole lot of old friends who are at this point just family members without blood relation.  He saw us laugh.  He saw us cry.  We shared stories.  He told us how to build a mission, and what worked for him.  He had ideas we hadn't conceived of, including a couple that might be implemented shortly.  Steve is now a part of that family.

The occasion was that we invited him to speak at Saint Patrick Orthodox Mission in Carrollton, Georgia.  I won't recount how I got to know Steve online, but the short version is through his podcasts, blogs and later his social media accounts and Substack writings.  As part of that, he spent the better part of the weekend with several of us.  But before he came out, he asked our friend Deborah, one of the co-founders of the mission, if the choir would learn "The Troparion of the Mediocre Saint."

Of course we did.  How could we not?  

There were several problems with the request, the first being that Saint Patrick really doesn't have a choir, and the second being we didn't know the music. The second was alleviated when he sent us the sheet music and we realized it was Obikhod Tone 1, which we know like the back of our hand, having used it for years at Pascha for "O Come Ye, Take Light," and at the dismissal in Vespers for "Preserve O God."  To alleviate the first, we gathered those of us who can and usually do sing, and we did what we had done for years and years, only using different words.

What is remarkable about this is not the hymn itself.  That is obviously parody, though with a ring of truth.  What is remarkable is how Steve sets it up.  He talks about how the Church generally canonizes monastics, or bishops, or other remarkable people who did remarkable things.  He talks about how very few married people are glorified by the Church.  But he notes -- correctly -- that being recognized as a saint and BEING a saint are two different things.  There are saints we know, because the Church has shown them forth.  But there are saints we do not know, which is why we still celebrate All Saints Day the first Sunday after Pentecost.  This Troparion was written not to mock the Church, but to recognize with faithfulness and love that the Church knows her own.  God knows His own.  And the fact that someone didn't make it on our calendar does not mean that person did not make it into God's Kingdom. The words of the Troparion are cheeky, but well stated:

By not cursing in rush hour traffic

Thou hast found the way to Divine contemplation

And by working nine to five at a mind numbing desk job for twenty years

To feed thy family thou hast broken the snares of the enemy

By not judging the people of Wal-Mart

Thou hast shown thyself to be an enlightener of all O pure one

Thou hast kept the faith even through the raising of teenage daughters

O holy husband and daddy Bob, entreat Christ God to save our souls

If you watch the video you will see me (singing bass on the far right) look at my youngest, who is singing alto in the choir, and my middle daughter, who is sitting behind her with my wife, at the lyric "raising of teenage daughters." All in good fun.

To be counted among the Saints by the Church, to be glorified in that way, canonized and placed on the calendar, is a great honor. But it is an honor almost exclusively reserved to those who do not seek it.  In today's Orthodox world, a lot of emphasis is placed on looking, acting, talking, and interacting as Orthodox Christians, by which is meant an outward expression. At times it can feel more like a club than a family.  Like people who wear similar clothing or share the same hobbies not because they are into that style or recreation, but because they want to belong in the same group.  But in the Church, in the real world, often what our neighbor needs is not what we think "being an Orthodox Christian" looks like.  Steve told us about caring for his elderly parents.  And that involves choices.  Do I clean and bathe someone who can no longer clean and bathe herself, or do I spend 30 minutes in front of the icon corner saying my prayers?  Do I take dad to the hospital, or do I go to that service that was appointed this week?

Those are really clear examples.  But there are other things, including work obligations, family obligations, taking care of friends in need, which also stand in the way of "the stuff" some folks think makes us Orthodox Christians.  We should no more show forth those things to the world than "the stuff."  Cosplaying the things of God is bad no matter what form it takes.  But the point is, there are a lot more Orthodox lay Christians caring for elderly parents and helping friends who need help and taking the time to fix the sink than there are those who maintain a monastic prayer calendar and attend all the services.  

Our beloved former priest, Father Andrew, once told me "everyone wants a ministry in the Church.  Some folks want to go to the chanter stand or the choir while the chrism is still wet.  Some want to be on a committee or the parish council.  But nobody seems to want the ministry of taking out the trash and cleaning the toilets."  All of those things honor Christ, and in equal measure. And while some of those "ministries" are more visible, there are downsides to visibility.  The cassock sets me apart, but it is often heavy with the weight of responsibility that comes with it.  To the extent that I have to be sure to stand a certain way, not make the sign of the cross in the wrong place, be sure to read the words correctly and sing the hymn properly, and know when those things are to be done. It also carries with it a lot of obedience, to a lot of people.  I answer mainly to the priest, but I am also responsible to answer to the choir director, my brother readers, etc.  There is no glory in taking out the trash.  But no one is likely to give you problems about how you do it.  Visibility has a cost.

Granted, this is also not an either/or question.  We ought to maintain a prayer rule and go to as many services as we can, keep the fasts, celebrate the feasts.  We are called to do that in community.  And we ought to serve where we are called.  My reservations about the weight of the cassock do not outweigh the responsibility I owe to the Church, having accepted it and been blessed by Bishop Antoun, of blessed memory, to wear it.  But we ought not get wrapped around the axle trying to divy up those responsibilities either.  Rather, we should let Christ find us as He pleases, whether it is in the friend who needs help or at the altar on Thursday night for a particular feast or at the chanter stand or cleaning the toilets.  God is with us in all these things.