Don't Be a Weirdo/Touch Grass

 

One of the best pieces of advice I got early on as a would-be Orthodox Christian was "don't be a weirdo."  I forgot who wrote it -- it was on one of the blogs I frequented back in those days (2010-ish).  But it was instructive.  As the kids say these days, it was an imperative to "touch grass."

Both of these sayings lead to the same place.  The Orthodox Church is already weird by American Christian standards.  Since 2012 I have been blessed to wear the cassock as a reader.  So I dress like the picture above for Church every Sunday (I'm the one reading the Epistle and, well, wearing the cassock).  There isn't much need to be any weirder than that.

As I wrote a while back, there is a tendency among a handful of folks to put on Orthodoxy like a costume.  Orthodox LARPing as it were.  There is a healthy expression of this, in that the outward things of the Church -- crosses, prayer ropes, head coverings, etc. -- are all good things.  The misuse of a thing does not negate its proper use.  But it is in fact a misuse of these things to treat them as accessories.  As I wrote then, wear your prayer rope, but use it.

But more than that, the potential for misuse goes way up when we forget that the outward things are connected to spiritual things. It does little good to dress up in Orthodoxy and then fail to live it out.  We fail to live it out both when we reject our neighbor and when we scare him off from the Church because we are so bizarre that he figures our parish must be as well.  

We are fortunate at St. Patrick to have a community of real people, with real lives, who live out the Christian faith within their normal lives.  That is, we don't gather a lot of weirdos, at least not any weirder than you'll find in any other place in the country.  Our priest is pretty normal.  His wife (also pictured above) is pretty normal.  Our people, as you can see above, are pretty normal.  We are neither monastic fetishists nor ethnic and cultural appropriators.  We aren't trying to remake Holy Rus in this little storefront church.  We have actual Russian people who attend our parish, so our nods to the old country are authentic, not pretentious. Then again, our Russian friends are from the present, so that's what you'd expect.

I don't say all this to come down on those who are new to the faith and still discovering all the shiny new exotic toys the Russian, Greek and Arabic worlds have to offer through our parishes. Our food would be poorer if we didn't absorb some of that (then again, theirs would be too if not for our fried chicken and banana pudding).  I don't mean to criticize those who are serious about maintaining a prayer rule or are diligent about reading about the faith.  Those are all good things.  But remember to get out and touch grass.  Orthodoxy is lived right where we are.  I tell our catechumens frequently, "salvation starts right now -- God isn't waiting for you to die."  That's the Orthodox faith.  We take it into the world, and in so doing transform the world.  That is not bound up in monastic and cultural trappings.  It happens wherever you may be.  Bloom where you're planted.

It is notable that there would be no Russian Orthodox culture if St. Vladimir hadn't Christianized Russia. The Arabic and Greek-speaking worlds were Christianized early on, as was the Latin world, but the Russian Church is evidence that Orthodoxy takes the culture as it is and transforms it into itself.  The reason OCA and ROCOR parishes look and sound different than Greek and Antiochian parishes is the Russians took their own music, culture, tradition, and piety and made the faith their own.  Not by changing the faith, but by being authentically Russian in their practice of the Orthodox faith.  You only need to note the four-part harmony in any Russian-descendent parish to understand this.

We are called to do the same here. Which is not to say we should eradicate Russian (or Greek, or Arabic) language or music from our liturgies, or stop enjoying their food or venerating their saints.  The Church is One, for sure, and our forefathers have left us a blessed and beautiful inheritance.  I absolutely adore Russian chant and Byzantine chant alike.  But the Church is also not bound up in a previous time, when it was supposedly "more authentic" or "purer."  The Church is for our time just as much as the high water mark of the Byzantine Empire or the full glory of Holy Rus.  We aren't called to recover those moments in the past.  We are called to recreate them right where we are, in a way that works in our culture and our country and among our people today.  We can no more recreate the 7th century Hagia Sophia than we can recreate 1st Century Palestine.  We live in the 21st Century.  The Church is relevant here and now.

So yes, please, more Obikhod chant and Kievan chant.  More Pascha cheese and chotkis.  We love that stuff too.  Just don't forget the burgers and dogs, and don't make it weird.

Spiritual Fatherhood

 

I wrote approximately six months ago about our then-new priest, our father in Christ, Fr. Seth.  Fatherhood is an important part of the priesthood, and the Church in general.  As I wrote in that post, fathers are the glue that holds a family together, and we thank God for ours.

There is also, however, a more pointed definition of "spiritual fatherhood," and I fear it is often misunderstood.  Part of this is simply that the various Archdioceses are not consistent in how they discuss it, and sometimes, even within an Archdiocese there are discrepancies.  There are, however, some commonalities, and I thought it worth discussing the notion and how it plays out in Orthodox parishes.

First, the notion of a "spiritual father" comes from the monastic life, not the parish.  In that sense, a young monk is often assigned to a wise, experienced elder to assist him in the monastic walk.  Eventually, the practice of private confession expanded beyond restoration of lapsed heretics and monastic life to the parish, and the notion of "spiritual fatherhood" in the parishes developed. It is the same principle, but not the same application.

His Eminence, Metropolitan Saba, wrote a few years ago that:

The Orthodox tradition does not recognize the phrase “spiritual father.” This is a modern term that appeared in Western languages, possibly influenced by Catholic spirituality. The Orthodox tradition uses the term “elder,” which corresponds to geronda in Greek and starets in Russian. This term embodies the Orthodox understanding of what is now commonly called a “spiritual father.” One who has grown old in his life with God and has come to know it through personal, living experience is called an elder (geronda). This means that he has spent time as a disciple in the spiritual life and has advanced in it to the point of becoming a great expert, capable—through the testimony of recognized and holy fathers—and guiding others in it. Likewise, the Orthodox tradition does not recognize an academic method that one follows to obtain the role of a spiritual father. The only path is discipleship under an experienced elder for growth in what we call “the life in Christ.” The gift of serving as an elder comes from God, not from studying theology academically or only holding the priestly office.

On the other hand, the Orthodox Church in America's clergy guidelines say that:

The priest is the spiritual father of his parish, and every parishioner ought to respect him as such. 

So you can see, there is some overlap, and also a little confusion, about what is being discussed.  For example, Metropolitan Saba indicates a "spiritual father" is to be an elder, someone who has grown old in his life with God and has personal, living experience in the spiritual life.  And yet, the OCA says every priest is a "spiritual father" in his parish, even though many priests are sent to their parishes straight out of seminary, in their 30s.  What gives?

I would suggest that Metropolitan Saba and the OCA's clergy guidelines are using the same words to describe different things.  His Eminence is discussing the idea of a "spiritual father" as equivalent to an elder in a monastery, someone who will guide you through your spiritual walk and assist you in things of the faith.  The OCA is stating the reality that, as I wrote in my earlier blog post, the priest is in charge of his parish, and is responsible for the faithful there, but not suggesting that every priest is a monastic abbot who ought to be neck deep in the personal lives of his faithful.  We can see this by the fact that Metropolitan Saba makes clear that what he calls a "spiritual father" is really, in the Church's Tradition, more properly called an "elder."  That is, he is using that term exclusively to refer to the sort of elder-novice dynamic you find in the monastic life.  This is further discerned by evaluating the rest of His Eminence's encyclical, particularly where he draws a distinction between a "confessor" and a "spiritual father":

A confessor, on the other hand, holds a significant position in the Church as institution. He is a canonically ordained priest whom his bishop deems qualified to hear confessions, offering guidance from the Holy Gospel and the teachings of the Church Fathers to help believers walk their Christian path in a way that pleases the Lord. If the elder is a priest, he may fulfill both roles, serving as a confessor while providing spiritual fatherhood. The faithful, as guardians of true faith, discern who possesses the gift of spiritual fatherhood based on the fruits of his guidance over time. 

So as Metropolitan Saba understands, there is a difference between "spiritual father/elder" and "parish priest/father confessor," though the two can rarely be embodied in the same person.  His Eminence goes on to say:

St. Basil the Great describes the spiritual father as “the physician of souls who heals with great tenderness according to the teachings of Christ.” He also calls him the “healer of the passions” (Letter 45:5-6). A true elder is a spiritual doctor who heals the soul from its diseases and struggles, liberating the person from the bondage of sinful passions. He focuses on the inner transformation of a person rather than external behaviors. The elder, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, creates a new person in Christ, not the other way around. One of the greatest qualities of an elder is the gift of discernment. Spiritual guidance requires deep understanding of the human soul, its struggles, and the ways in which the devil tempts people. A confessor who lacks this discernment may offer wrong spiritual advice which can harm rather than heal. Metropolitan Athanasios of Limassol, a disciple of St. Paisios the Athonite, states: “Bad spiritual advice is like giving the wrong medicine to a sick person.” He warns that if an elder lacks discernment, he can misguide his spiritual children away from salvation. In one of his talks to nuns, he advised: “You must learn how God works in the hearts of people so that you do not give advice that could harm them” (Gifts of the Desert, Chapter 8). 

It is this last part that I think distinguishes true spiritual fatherhood from either a father confessor or, worse, what the Slavic Tradition refers to as a "mladostarchestvo" or "young elder." It is notable that what the word "starets" in the Slavic Tradition implies, the word "geronda" in the Greek Tradition makes plain.  "Geronda" means "old man."  One who lacks experience, training, and years of discernment is not an elder, no matter how much he might wish to be.  He can be a father confessor, a priest, a good person, a solid Christian. But he is not an elder.  If he attempts to act as one, he is likely to give sick parishioners the wrong medicine.  That is bad enough when it is a confessor giving imprudent penances or too-strict prayer and fasting rules.  It is positively destructive when it gets into marital advice, psychological counseling, financial guidance, or other things the priest has no business concerning himself with.  A former priest is an actual psychological counselor, and he told me on more than one occasion he tries to never mix the two disciplines.  That is wise.  

More, a "spiritual father" or "father confessor" (whichever applies) is there to guide you in spiritual matters. It is one thing for your priest to advise you on a prayer rule, or fasting.  Even if he does so poorly, the damage is rarely so bad it cannot be contained.  But you don't need a blessing to decide what color refrigerator to buy or who your friends can be.  A parish priest who thinks he can effectively guide you in financial matters or tell you who you are allowed to date is probably not a "spiritual father" so much as a narcissist and control freak.  There may be exceptions to this -- Metropolitan Saba wisely notes that a "spiritual father" is discerned by the fruits of his guidance.  But note well -- he also said this discernement is made by "the faithful, as guardians of the true faith . . . ."  It is not made by the priest himself.  No priest can impose on you such a relationship of power and control. You must submit to it voluntarily.  Do so with extreme caution outside a monastic setting.  The good priests will tell you the same.  I've met many good priests who are wise and capable, but not one who is clairvoyant.  The vast majority of monks aren't either.  We aren't enthusiasts nor charismatics.  Spiritual gifts are many and abundant, but everyone doesn't have all of them.  If your priest doesn't float when he prays, it might be wise to assume he doesn't know how your employment decisions will turn out, either.

I wrote on social media recently that "guru priests profane the office."  One who wants to be an elder likely will never actually become one unless he changes course.  The reason why ought to be simple enough to understand -- the chief virtue is humility, and wanting to be seen by the world as wise and learned and experienced is the opposite of humility.  The greatest priests I have ever had the good fortune of serving never told me how good they are.  Usually, quite the opposite.  Both of them, not for nothing, were older.  Our current priest is neither old nor young, and he has a fair amount of experience.  He still doesn't tell everyone he's an "elder," nor act as a guru.  That is because he is wise and pastoral.

There are no shortcuts.  The walk from young, zealous Christian to seminarian to priest to confessor to wise elder does not allow for the skipping of steps. Metropolitan Saba noted that "the Orthodox tradition does not recognize an academic method that one follows to obtain the role of a spiritual father." It also does not contemplate a path where a seminarian can graduate, get ordained, and go straight to the status of "geronda."

Spiritual fatherhood is a good thing. If we equate "spiritual father" with "elder," it is also a rare thing. Most priests are, or should be, father confessors, in Metropolitan Saba's formulation (with which I agree). We should be careful to discern the difference.

Intuition, Discernment, and Prelest

 

An ever-present struggle in the Christian life can be boiled down to a simple question:  How do we know?

And the hard answer is, usually, we don't.

We put words on our lack of true insight and knowledge.  Intuition, discernment, and prelest all can be used to describe the same phenomenon.  Sometimes our "spidey sense" is telling us something is wrong (or right), and that sense is correct.  That's intuition.  Sometimes we have the same feeling, but we're wrong.  That is a lack of discernment. 

Sometimes we think that because we've been right in the past, we must be clairvoyant, with a gift for intuition and discernment.  That's prelest.

What is the cure for this spiritual blindness?  Humility.  Remembering that because we experience something one way, that doesn't mean someone else experienced it as we did.  Remembering that even if something seems to be one way, we often only have fragments of the information we need to have a firm opinion that things are as they seem.  Remembering that even if God blesses us with insight and discernment, that is not because we are so great, but because He is, and we should never let such gifts go to our head or expect they will be repeated in the future.  None of this is magic. Doing the stuff is not equivalent to a vending machine, where we put in our effort and God gives us what we want.  Often, it is in doing the stuff that we figure out that God wants us to do something completely opposed to our subjective desires.

Of course, the biggest impediment to actually doing these things is the very antithesis of humility -- pride.  Too often, we want what we want, and even though that same little intuition is telling us something is wrong, we are too blinded by our desires and wishes to admit it, much less act to correct it.  Our contentment and sloth win out over what our very being tells us to be true.

I believe that, over time, most people in any given situation will eventually come to follow Godly intuition, exercise discernment, and avoid prelest. At some level, you have to be willfully ignorant to pretend some situations are okay.  But I have also come to believe people can convince themselves of a lot of things that just aren't so.  Humility remains the cure.  Be humble enough to understand when God is leading you a certain direction, especially if you don't want to go in that direction.  And be more humble still about presuming that God's plan always aligns with ours.  Because that is rarely the case, even with the saints.

The Mission of Beauty

 

Christ is risen!

Indeed He is risen, and it is a beautiful thing!  

"Beauty will save the world"  is a famous quote from Dostoevsky, which has been misunderstood and, simultaneously, underappreciated, for quite some time.  What does it mean to have a theology of beauty?

In the Orthodox Church, we are always striving for beauty.  I've mentioned recently how amazing Fr. Seth's transformation of our space has been, for example.  But the beauty of Pascha is another level entirely.  It always has been.

I have to confess, I was skeptical whether we'd be able to pull it off in our little mission.  We have a small choir comprised of the choir director, John (also a Reader and founder of the mission), me, his daughter, two of my daughters, and our friend Alicia. For now, that's it. Could we do these elaborate pieces the Slavic tradition gives us for this feast of feasts?

It turns out, yes we could, and yes we did.  I don't say this to brag on the choir's aptitude (though John did a great job preparing us) so much as to say thanks be to God that He provides what we need. The music was beautiful, as it has been every year I've been in the Church.

Could we pull off the procession and revel in its beauty with our little storefront in a strip mall beside the Subway sandwich shop?  Also yes.  We gathered in the parking lot, candles lit, and sang and prayed and when we entered the nave, everyone was singing Christ is Risen.

For those who don't know, the Orthodox celebrate the Resurrection.  It is an hours long party where the priest yells "Christ is risen!" in different languages and the parish responds.  I remember being stunned, because the choir was pretty loud that day, the first time the parish responded "indeed He is risen!"  That response felt like someone muted the choir, it was so loud and boisterous!  All of the rest that followed felt the same way.

It felt, in other words, like every other Orthodox parish I've ever celebrated Pascha in (three in total, not including St. Patrick).  The surprise was, our little mission, smaller than those, felt exactly like any of them.  The beauty of Pascha shone through.

Does it matter?  Isn't Christ risen even if we can't pull off the aesthetics of a proper Paschal liturgy?  Of course.  And yet, we nonetheless strive for beauty.  We aren't functionaries or utilitarians, leaving our music bland and our architecture like the Soviets, useful only for getting stuff done.  We are worshipping the One True God, and His only begotten Son, our Lord, God and Savior Jesus Christ!  Our worship, our space, and our piety ought to reflect His beauty.

So why do we beautify? Because God is beautiful! His infinite love is beautiful. His creation is beautiful. Beauty is a reflection of Him Who created us in His image, and seeks to conform us again to His likeness.  So we tend the garden, hoping her seeds will bear fruit.  Thanks be to God we can do that even in our nascent little mission parish.

The Mission of Transformation, Part 2

 

As I wrote recently, our little space was something in need of a little massaging.  Just a little TLC to bring it up to speed.  We did that, and you can see the fruits of it in the photos on the previous page.

But since Father Seth arrived, it has been transformed all the more, sometimes on a weekly basis.  I joked with him several weeks ago:  "I like you Father Seth -- every time I come here you give me a brand new church!"

The point of this post is not to laud Father Seth's decorating skills, though they are laudable.  It is to note that when all the puzzle pieces of the Church fit together, things happen exponentially more than they happen with any of us alone.  We need one another, mostly to transform ourselves and each other.

Like us, our space still has some of the features of its old decor. The exit sign just to the left of the iconostasis. The antiseptic lighting that only absurdly bright flourescent bulbs can render. The glass front, including a glass door, that still looks more commercial than sacred. The floor is still concrete. Some friends and I stayed after to talk yesterday and we could hear people yelling through the walls. Our only disagreement was whether it came from the Subway next door or the escape room on the other side. Suffice it to say, we are working with what we have, not what we would prefer to have.

But this is not merely lipstick on a pig. There are reasons for the changes we have made.

Father Seth added battery powered lighting over some of the more prominent icons.  You can see one of those in the photo above, over the icon of the Platytera behind the altar (the Platytera icon is also new, as is the iconostasis).  In addition to highlighting those icons, this practically means that during the prayer offices, we can turn the flourescent lights off and have a more intimate and prayerful setting.  He added lampadas all around the nave, including over the icons on the iconostasis, and many of the ones along the walls (which are mainly the 12 Great Feasts, but there are some others).  He procured an actual chanter stand and battery powered lighting for that, so we can expand the choir and have a comfortable space for everyone, along with storage for the books we need.  He brought us new analogia and lampstands and all sorts of other things to adorn the temple.  If you squint a little and don't pay too much attention to the glowing Exit sign or the suspended ceiling, you might actually think this place is beginning to look like an actual church!

The thing is, as I noted in my prior post about fatherhood, you're not really a church until you have a priest. If the Archdiocese gave us no priest, we would have no head to take a look at these things and make them reality.  And as is obvious from our own attempts to adorn the temple, we were not nearly as well equipped as he is to bring that to reality.  If we didn't have Father Seth, we would still be playing church.  Likewise, Father Seth's ownership of this space is due and owing to the fact that the Archdiocese sent him here.  He doesn't do freelance church decorating as a side gig.  He is adorning this temple because it is his, and we are his.  

All of this works together.  A parish with no priest is no parish.  A priest with no parish is no priest.  A father must have children, and spiritual fathers must have spiritual children.  That's what the word "father" means, after all.  More, Father Seth did not do this alone.  We began the work, and we have continued to assist him in carrying out his vision.  My point is more about the completeness of having a family together and whole.  We can do more together than any of us can do alone.  This is true of adorning any temple, whether the place where we worship or the temple of our bodies and souls.  A healthy parish requires a strong father and solid, obedient children.

As I wrote many, many years ago in yet another previous post, we are saved in community.  We need each other.  We are the means of each other's salvation.  Our temple speaks that now.  May it ever.

There is no such thing as "holy deception"

 

There exists a range of views among Christians on the sin of false witness so I want to be specific in this post.  I don't mean to attack people for "white lies," though there is not a blanket exception in the Orthodox faith for such.  I also don't mean to discuss here people who lie because they are weak.  I'd like to think we all struggle with this at times, but perhaps I'm the only one.

What I'm discussing is a very specific phenomenon, mostly spread on the internet, but which I've observed in real life.  The concept that there are times, in order to protect the faith or the Church (or, more accurately, one's preferred view of the faith or the Church), that it is actually virtuous to lie to people.  

I've seen this most notably in the case of those who favor reception by baptism over reception by chrismation in the case of previously baptized converts.  Not universally, but there are some who actually instruct such people to lie to their priest or bishop so that the candidate, not the clergy, will have the final say in how the candidate is received.  This is posited as some sort of opposition to evil and preservation of the truth, rather than what it is -- open rebellion against the authorities the Church has placed over the candidate.

There are other examples, but the example is not what is important -- I offer it only to highlight what I'm discussing.  The principle is the issue, and the principle is simply this -- the Scriptures and the Holy Fathers teach us to be honest in all we say and do.  Jesus has harsh words for people who are not honest:

You are of your father the devil, and the desires of your father you want to do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources, for he is a liar and the father of it. (John 8:44).

Solomon calls lying "an abomination to the Lord." One of the Ten Commandments warns us against bearing false witness.  This ought to be uncontroversial.  And yet for some reason it is not.

Guard your soul.  One who lies so reflexively will eventually ask you to lie too.  There will be something in you that knows this is not right, whether you are repeating the lies or being asked to create new ones.  The truth will be repackaged as hateful attacks.  You will be asked to defend this gaslighting rather than to call the liar to repent.

Again, this is not to condemn liars writ large, for we are all liars.  Go to confession.  Receive absolution.  But always keep things in proper order and be watchful.  "Holy deception" is no virtue.  It is no less than prelest to consider one's self such a mark of holiness that one's lies become virtuous, and the refutation of those lies sinful. As we will sing in a few short weeks, "beware therefore O my soul, do not be weighed down with sleep, lest you be given up to death and shut out from the Kingdom.  But rouse thyself crying, 'Holy, Holy, Holy art Thou O Lord.'"

More Graceless People

 

Keith Olbermann, the former Sports Center announcer turned MSNBC icon turned grumpy old man/town drunk, has made headlines.  Again.  After legendary coach Lou Holtz died, Olbermann called him a "scumbag."

Holtz's crime?  He disagreed with Olbermann about politics.

I won't belabor this, because it really isn't healthy for us to dwell on such low rent behavior.  I do want to point out, again, we can choose to be better than this. If your politics is more important to you than common decency, then you are a slave to your politics and you should repent and beg God's mercy and forgiveness. Put simply, the "scumbag" in this situation isn't Lou Holtz.

I don't expect someone with no religious training to speak of and no interest in being kind or fair to others to understand that.  The rest of us can tune out when he speaks, though.  And we should.  We used to be a graceful people.  We should try to recover that.