A talk given at St. Herman Orthodox Youth Conference on 24 December 2011 in Ottawa, Canada

Introduction

We all know of the sacraments of the Church and recognize them as certain events or milestones in our Christian lives: we get baptized, we prepare for confession and Communion, get married, and some may get ordained to the holy priesthood…  These important markers provide us with the time and place to be face-to-face with God, to unite with Him within His Holy Church, His Body.  But what about the rest of our life?  Well, we pray for a few minutes in the morning and also in the evening.  But what about the rest?  All too often, our lives are fractured: there is the Christian part—Church sacraments and services, prayers and readings; and there is the secular part—school, work, a party at a friend’s house, a movie on Friday night—and the two parts seem to be as far apart as the east is from the west.  Indeed, what is so spiritual about cooking breakfast?  Or, how can one be (or not be) a Christian while brushing one’s teeth?  The very mechanistic separation between Church and the rest of life seems to be as commonplace in modern Christianity as the separation of Church and state.  But can there be another model?  Is there a way to reconcile the broken pieces of the modern fractured life and to live one whole and simple Christian life?  Here, we will discuss the meaning of the word “sacrament,” the role that sacraments play in our life, and also some ways in which we can guide and shape our everyday life toward a greater connection with God and His Church.

What is a Sacrament?

Before we begin our discussion of sacraments, let us first try to define what a sacrament actually is.  This task is not entirely in keeping with the tradition of the Orthodox Church.  In fact, the Orthodox Church as a whole never has formulated a precise definition.  Nonetheless, some individual theologians have tried to define the word “sacrament.”  Blessed Augustine of Hippo, for example, wrote that, “The Word comes to the element; and so there is a sacrament, that is, a sort of visible word,” or, in other words, “a sacrament is a visible sign of an invisible reality.”  Another definition can be found in the Longer Catechism of the Orthodox, Catholic, Eastern Church by Saint Filaret (Drozdov):  “A mystery or sacrament is a holy act, through which grace, or, in other words, the saving power of God, works mysteriously upon man.”

Are these acceptable definitions?  In many ways, they are.  However, these definitions leave us with some questions.  For example, is a bagel you may have eaten for breakfast a visible sign of an invisible reality?  Of course!—It is a very visible, tangible, and tasty sign of the blessings that God bestows upon the labors of farmers and bakers.  And what about the prayer service before the beginning of this Conference—is it a sacrament?  According to the definition of St. Filaret, yes, since it is an act through which God’s grace works mysteriously upon man.

“But wait,” you may say, “Aren’t there only seven sacraments?”  We will return to this question, but first, I will dare to offer yet another definition of what a sacrament is.  Let us define a sacrament as a place and time where a willful act of God intersects with a willful act of man.  In other words, a sacrament is when God and man work together.  What are they trying to accomplish?  Well, we know what God is trying to accomplish—the salvation of man, and even more precisely, theosis.  So, when God and man co-labor in the process of theosis, this act is a sacrament.  Why is this duality so important?  Because, without the will and participation of God, all we get are acts or works of men.  And without the will and participation of man, what we get is a miracle performed by God alone.  It is only when the two acts come together that we get a sacrament.

How Many Sacraments Are There?

In the sixteenth century, the Roman Catholic Council of Trent decreed that there were seven sacraments,[1] and they are the same sacraments that we find in the Orthodox Law of God books or the Catechism of St. Filaret[2]: baptism, chrismation, confession, Communion (or Eucharist), unction, matrimony, and ordination.  This list came into the Orthodox tradition from the Latin West, and became a convenient and neatly-packaged reference for Sunday-school textbooks and popular catechisms.  Unlike the Roman Catholic Church, however, which excommunicates anyone who says that there are fewer or more than seven sacraments,[3] Orthodox authors have named as few as two and as many as ten sacraments[4] without any claims of exclusivity.  Indeed, if a sacrament is a collaborative act of God and man in the process of theosis, then monastic vows, for example, are also a sacrament,[5] and so is the blessing of water.

Unfortunately, after several generations of children learning the list of seven sacraments in their Sunday school lessons, many Orthodox people equate the sacraments with a list of seven rites or rituals of the Church, which are not only relatively rare (how often, for example, do you get baptized or married), but also may not be for everyone (for example, women cannot be ordained, and monastics cannot be married).  So, let us next try to talk about some of the sacraments in ways that make them relevant for all of us throughout our lives.

Baptism

Many Orthodox lay people and even some clergy believe that once a person has been baptized as an infant, he remains Orthodox for the rest of his life.  This really should be the case, but often it is not.  Baptism is the entrance into the Church—both as the mystical Body of Christ and as a human institution established by God.  But neither one of these is a prison, and anyone is free to leave at any time.  In fact, every one of us through sin leaves the Church and is no longer in the Body of Christ.  Recall the words of a prayer you hear during confession: “Reconcile and unite him with Your holy Church…”  It is because, through sin, we become enemies of the Church, we are no longer in Christ’s Body, we break our baptismal vows and defile our baptismal garment.  And we have to reconcile and unite again through repentance.  Thus, baptism, while a singular event indeed, places obligations on our entire life; much like planting a seed is a singular event, but growing a tree requires effort and patience.

Confession

Many people understand confession also as a singular and sometimes rare event.  Some only go to confession once a year (which, by the way, I would consider an abomination).  Others may confess more often and even more or less regularly…  But let us replace the word “confession” with the word “repentance.”  What is the difference?  Imagine a thief who proudly tells his friend about all the things he has stolen, and then goes and steals some more.  He has just confessed his sins—undoubtedly.  But has he repented?  Now imagine a Christian who goes to confession, names all his sins—he is well aware of them—and then goes and continues to live in sin.  Can this be considered a sacrament?  Obviously not.  While God is ready to erase the sins from this person’s life, the person does not want them erased, he wants to keep them.  He confesses them without any resolve to change his life, that is to say, without repentance.

The word “repentance” has a Latin root which does not reflect the full meaning of the Orthodox concept.  The Greek equivalent—μετάνοια—means the changing of one’s mind, of not remaining the same.[6]  Therefore, to repent is to resolve to turn away from sin and to make an effort not to return to sin.  And it is here—within the union of God’s will and act to erase our sins and our will and act to turn away from sin—that the sacrament takes place.  Thus, the sacrament of repentance is not limited to listing our sins before a priest and receiving an absolution, but continues into the following minutes, hours, days, weeks and the rest of our changed and changing life.

Communion

Similarly, Holy Communion is not only that moment in church when we actually receive the Body and Blood of Christ into our mouth and swallow it.  The Latin word communio means “sharing in common,”[7] that is, the sharing in the nature and life of Christ’s Body, becoming one with it; as Apostle Paul said, “it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me” (Gal. 2:20 NRSV).  Note that the Apostle used the word “lives”—not “visits” or “stops by for a brief moment,” but “lives.”  You know the popular folk wisdom, “You are what you eat.”  We partake of the Body of Christ in order to become the Body of Christ.  In a prayer during the Liturgy, a priest asks God to send down His Holy Spirit upon us (first and foremost!) and then upon the Holy Gifts which are set forth.  And this—our becoming the Body of Christ—is to be not just for a minute or for a day, but quite literally for eternity.  In this way, Communion is outside of time, and we are to be in Communion with Christ not only when we partake in church, but also the next day, and the next, and the next, and right now as we sit here listening to this talk.

Matrimony

This same principle of the sacraments not being limited by the constraints of the ecclesiastical rites and rituals associated with them, but instead permeating the entirety of a Christian life can be applied to the rest of the sacraments on the “official” list, although we will not discuss all of them here.  But as a last example, let us take a look at a sacrament which is seemingly not for everyone—marriage.  Indeed, some people get married, yet others do not.

Scripturally, a marriage between a man and a woman is an icon of the great mystery of Christ and the Church (see Eph. 5:32).  In fact, to speak about this mystery, Apostle Paul used the very words with which God established the sacrament of marriage between a man and a woman: “…and the two will become one flesh” (Eph. 5:31 cf. Gen. 2:24).  This should immediately remind us of the sacrament we discussed earlier, Holy Communion, but also of baptism and confession as they help us enter into and remain in the Body of Christ—the two will become one flesh.   In fact, uniting with Christ is the central goal of Christian life, and, by extension, the main purpose behind every sacrament of the Church.  The sacrament of marriage is one icon of the mystery of Christ and the Church, but there are others.  Monasticism, for example, is also a living icon of a man’s or woman’s union with Christ, and likewise is a life devoted to selfless and sacrificial service to others, which, by the way, is also the oft-forgotten essence of marriage between a man and a woman.

All Christians are called to the wedding feast of the Lamb—not as guests or spectators, but as partakers, as members of the holy and unblemished Bride, the Church; to be united with the Divine Bridegroom into one flesh, the Body of Christ.  Whether some marry or remain single, follow the path of monasticism or remain in the world—every one of us is called to be partakers of the sacramental marriage of Christ and His Church.  And our earthly participation in the icon of this divine sacrament is not limited to the few minutes that we wear our wedding crowns during a church ceremony, but is a life-long commitment which continues into eternity with Christ.

“The unexamined life is not worth living…”[8]

As we talked about the various sacraments of the Church, you may have noticed that we kept saying the same thing and often using the very same words.  I am not trying to talk in circles, but it may appear that way.  Perhaps, this is because there is really only one sacrament—the sacrament of being in the Body of the Risen Christ, the sacrament of theosis.  Every sacrament of the Church, every prayer, every rite and ritual, every reading and hymn has the goal of showing us the way and giving us the strength to be in the Body of Christ.  Indeed, our very life—from the first “Blessed is our God…” to the last “Amen!”—has only one question: “Do you unite yourself to Christ?” and only one correct answer: “I do unite myself to Christ!”  These words are not only or even primarily a part of the Rite of Making of a Catechumen, but must resonate through the whole Christian life.  It is this continuous union with Christ which allowed Apostle Paul to say: “it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me” (Gal. 2:20) and Saint John of Kronstadt to speak of his life in Christ.  This is not some feel-good expression—his literally was a life in Christ.  So, there is only one virtue—being in the Body of Christ.  Likewise, there is really only one sin—being separated from Christ.  Whatever in our lives makes us unlike Christ, distorts His image in us—that is the sin.

Unfortunately, very often the question of “what would Jesus do” becomes quite confusing.  In fact, some people have such a two-dimensional picture of Christ in their minds that it becomes absolutely impossible to even imagine what this two-dimensional character would do when faced with a real four-dimensional world.  But let us not forget that Christ took our human nature upon Himself not in order to sanctify two-dimensional icons of Himself, holy as they may be, but in order to heal, restore, and sanctify the very human nature—in all of its complexity.  When Christ enters into us—in the same way that He entered into Apostle Paul, Saint John of Kronstadt, and all other Christian saints—this union affects the entirety of human life: our comings-in and goings-out, our prayers to God and conversations with friends, our partaking of the Body and Blood of Christ in Church and the everyday family supper.

According to Plato, Socrates once remarked that the unexamined life is not worth living.  What is an unexamined life?  Imagine doing absolutely nothing and just waiting for a day to end… one day, two days…  Or imagine living from one party to another, from entertainment to entertainment, with nothing in between—well, work, school, the usual boring stuff, waiting for a year to hurry up and go by, so we can go on that next vacation.  Mechanical, thoughtless life on autopilot: eat-work-sleep.  Now imagine thinking about God only once or twice a day, or once or twice a week, or even once or twice a year.

But what are we supposed to do?  Sing psalms in Church Slavonic in the shower?  Well, that is not really such a bad idea.  In any case, to my taste, it is better than singing the latest tune by Justin Bieber.  But the larger point is that anything in life can and should be done with intention and prayer.  And this is not only a matter of some inner spiritual condition, but also a very outward and visceral action.  We are not a mechanical compilation of parts—body, soul, spirit—all put together with some screws and glue.  Rather, we are wholesome beings—what our body does / affects our soul, and the mouth speaks what the heart is full of (Matt. 12:34; Like 6:45).

Consider, for example, the words of Joshua, son of Sirach: “In all thy works, remember thy last end, and thou shalt never sin” (7:40 DRA).  This verse speaks of the whole human being—body, soul, and spirit.  “In all thy works”—with your hands, feet, even your mouth; “remember your last end”—remember with your mind, let the memory of death guide your soul; “and thou shalt never sin”—your spiritual compass, that part of you which points toward God, will remain true.

Likewise, the Apostle Paul writes: “Pray without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:17 KJV).  Sometimes, people interpret this verse as speaking not about prayer in the way that most people usually understand it—the act of communicating with God through worship, petitions, or contemplations—but as speaking about the highest levels of the art of noetic labors, and thus unattainable for most people just like the highest levels of most other arts.  Perhaps, this is a valid interpretation—I don’t know; I have not achieved the highest levels of the noetic arts.  But reading Paul’s epistle, another interpretation comes to mind.  Is it not likely that the Apostle is speaking about the simple everyday things pertaining to the life of any Christian, simply about the Christian life and mindset?  Here is the larger context (14-18):

Now we exhort you, brethren, warn them that are unruly, comfort the feebleminded, support the weak, be patient toward all men.

See that none render evil for evil unto any man; but ever follow that which is good, both among yourselves, and to all men.

Rejoice evermore.

Pray without ceasing.

In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.

Of course, giving thanks could be seen as another one of the noetic arts, or it can be as simple as thanking God for everything—not only those things which seem pleasing to us, but also those which are as bitter as medicine and as painful as surgery.  Indeed, a doctor takes a knife and cuts into our flesh, and yet we say, “Thank you, doctor!” and actually feel grateful, albeit sore for a while.

But let us take another look at the words of the Scripture: “in all thy works,” “ever follow,” “evermore,” “without ceasing,” “in every thing…”  Is this not an admonition to pay careful attention to every single moment of our lives?  Sounds daunting, does it not?  In reality, this is rather simple and starts with very small steps.  For example, many people use a telephone—they call their friends and family, answer when it is ringing—all without too much thought.  Really, it is such a commonplace experience that we don’t think twice about it.  I know one person who makes the sign of the cross every time before picking up the telephone.  How beautiful and meaningful!  How simple!—a pause, a short prayer, a realization that the interaction about to take place is within the sacred space and time of human life.  Life examined…  We all take showers, right?   I once read of a person who recited only one short verse from Psalm 50 (51 in Masoretic enumeration): “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow” (7 KJV).  Again, how beautiful in its simplicity!

A life sanctified, a life as a sacrament—is this not what the Church teaches us?  Our bodies and souls are washed in the waters of holy baptism; our cars and homes sanctified with holy water; our eyes, ears and mouths sealed with holy chrism—a Christian is a special vessel separated, set aside for service to God (cf. 1 Peter 2:9).  Why do you think we wear a cross at all times?  For the same reason that there is a cross on any church—to signify that this is not a barn or a warehouse, but a sacred temple of God.  Clearly, in this short talk we cannot discuss a human life in any detail, but in conclusion, I would like to mention only two aspects of our daily routines which are already marked by the Church as sacred.

Mealtime

We all eat, often without giving much consideration to the act of eating—we get hungry, so we eat.  However, eating is one of the most ancient sacred acts known to men.  Through eating Adam and Eve fell away from God, and through eating Christ enters into us in Communion.  Cain and Abel offered food that they raised / as a sacrifice to God.  Abraham fed the three divine visitors.  When the prodigal son returned home, the father ordered that a meal be prepared.  And the union of Christ and man is often symbolized by a feast.

We pray before and after each meal.  Prayers mark the sacred and separate it from the profane.  Thus, mealtime is sacred time, a sacred rite.  Put simply, mealtime is an icon: earthly bread nourishes and sustains our bodies as Christ, the heavenly bread, nourishes and sustains our souls.  And every meal is in some way sacramental inasmuch as it gives us a visible symbol of an invisible reality.  And just as with painted images there are holy icons and then there are caricatures, so it is with meals—there are sacred times and then there are caricatures.

Daily Prayers

We sometimes feel that the sacred time in our day is the time of prayer.  We treat prayer as some form of an obligation: 15 minutes for God, the rest of the day for myself.  Indeed, we often misunderstand religious obligations and see them in the same way as we see our social obligations.  Let’s take a look at taxes, for example: we give a certain portion of our income to the government because it needs funds for various programs, and we keep the rest for our own needs.  Clearly, with God it is not the same.  God does not actually need our tithes, and he does not need our prayers.  On the contrary, we offer our first fruits to God in order that all of our earthly labors will be sanctified.  Everything we own and, by the way, everything we eat is sacred because it is sacrificial—it has been sanctified by our offering of the first and best to God.  Likewise, we offer morning and evening prayers to God in order that our whole day may be holy, peaceful and sinless.  In other words, the sacred time of the day is not the time of prayer, but the time which is marked, framed, crowned by prayer—that is to say, the whole day itself.  A good example may be a beautiful chalice: as sacred and beautiful as it may be, it’s what’s inside that matters.  Or a beautiful temple—it is sanctified not by gold and glitter, but by the presence of God; and without God inside, it is merely a museum of architecture and fine arts.  Think about it next time when you want to hurry up and finish your prayers so that you can get on with your day.

Another important aspect of prayer is that it keeps us in touch with God, person to Person, reminds us that we are not alone, that that which we see is not all that there is.  Of course, this only works if prayer is constant or at least frequent.  Some may be surprised, but the early Christians did not have the Jordanville Prayer Book.  Instead, they said much shorter prayer rules much more frequently—up to five times a day or more at specific hours.  The prayer rule probably consisted of the Lord’s Prayer.[9]  Perhaps, an interesting echo of the practice of short but frequent prayers can be found in our Evening Prayer Rule—the Prayer of Saint John Chrysostom with a short supplication for every hour of the day.  It is unclear whether Saint John ever followed a rule of saying one petition every single hour of the day, or whether he did what we now do—read through the whole list in a few minutes, but our divine services also follow a set pattern throughout the day: the first hour (6 a.m.), the third hour (9 a.m.), the sixth hour (12 a.m.), the ninth hour (3 p.m.), and then vespers (6 p.m.).

The modern industrial world has been built in such a way that for most working people it would be impossible to recite a ten- or fifteen-minute prayer rule three or five times a day.  But the ancients did not do this either.  What if we tried to do what they did—the Lord’s Prayer?  Or, perhaps, something even shorter—the Jesus Prayer?  Could we do that five times a day?

*          *          *

If you are a Christian, then you do not believe that your life is an accident, a meaningless, purposeless, random peak of a cosmic probability wave.  You know that your purpose is to become the Body of Christ.  You know that your life is a sacrament, not unlike the Eucharist.  Grains of wheat grow from the earth, shaped and fashioned through much labor to be offered to God and to become His Body.  Likewise a human life: taken from the earth, shaped and fashioned through much labor to become an offering to God and His Body.  And just as there are differences between different liturgical traditions, different people found different ways to live their lives as a sacred offering to God.  Perhaps it is less important whether you sing psalms in the shower or not, recite the Lord’s Prayer three times a day or five—what is important is that you live your life as a sacrament, as an icon, and not as a caricature.

Translated from Russian by Fr. Michael van Opstall

The final hours before death

The leaving behind of the earthly life full of suffering, and the translation into eternity is the most solemn moment in the life of any Christian. However, friends and relatives, sometimes removed from Christian traditions, bear the death of a loved one with great grief. They often lose their orientation and leave the important job of the setting an Orthodox Christian on his final path in the hands of a funeral home.

The most important thing that we can do for a friend or relative before his or her death is to invite a priest, so that he can send the departing one on his or her way with the Holy Gifts. One must not worry about Father being busy or tired, or that it is too early, or too late, or too far. One must simply fulfill one’s responsibilities before the loved one. One must neither be concerned with thoughts of whether the sick one will get well. If this is God’s will, then he will get well, and if the hour of the meeting with eternity has come, then nothing can delay this hour—but all is in the hands of God. It is entirely unnecessary to be at death’s door in order to commune of the Holy Mysteries of Christ. While there is still time, let the priest come and commune the sick one, pray for his recovery, and perform the sacrament of unction (anointing with oil).

Finally, the important moment of passing from temporal to eternal has come to our loved one. If the priest has not yet arrived, then we can and should begin to read the service on the departure of the soul from the body, that is, the particular rule of prayers which is read while a person is still alive, but cannot pray with his own lips. In this service, the departing one joins in heart and soul to the words of the prayers that we read, and offers them up to the creator.  If you do not have the rule available, it is good to read psalms. It seems wrong, even if it is sincere, to simply mourn, depriving our loved one of this final prayerful comfort in this life, and increasing his already-considerable sufferings.

Funeral and burial

The body of a reposed Orthodox Christian is washed, clothed in clean clothing, covered with a burial sheet, and a special headband is placed on his head to remind us of the incorruptible crowns of righteousness, which the Lord has prepared for those who love Him (cf. 2 Tim. 4:8). A cross is placed in the reposed person’s hands to symbolize that this person, taking up his cross, followed after Christ (Lk. 9:23). Besides the cross, there is nothing else that should be placed in the coffin together with the departed one. Perhaps during his life, the reposed loved or collected certain items, but he can take nothing earthly with him on the way to eternal life, but only the spiritual riches he has built up. Thus, nothing should be put in the coffin with the departed except the Cross of Christ. There is a practice of placing icons in the coffin with the reposed. This is not very proper. It is far better after the funeral to take the icons out of the coffin and keep them at home as a prayerful reminder of the departed.

The burial of an Orthodox Christian can be on the first day after death, the second day, the third day, or later, depending on circumstances. The coffin with the body of the reposed is brought to the church, where the burial services are held. At our church, the day and time of the funeral must be pre-arranged with the rector. An Orthodox Christian should be buried in an Orthodox Cemetery, where this is possible.

Forty-days commemoration

The Russian word “Sorokoust” (forty commemorations) refers to the commemoration of a reposed Orthodox Christian at Liturgy every day for forty days after death; as in the first forty days after death, the newly-presented soul has special need of our prayers. Forty-days commemoration is possible only in those churches that have daily Liturgy; usually these are cathedrals with a great number of priests, or monasteries. In the majority of parish churches, where one or two priests serve, Liturgy is not served daily, and thus forty-days commemoration is not possible. In our Western American diocese, forty-days commemoration can be ordered at the cathedral church in San Francisco. For more information, please see the rector.

Memorial meals

Memorial meals and services are held on the third, ninth, and fortieth days after death, and also on the anniversary of the death. If possible, not only friends and relatives should be invited, but also the poor, lonely, and those who sorrow. Besides this, it is a praiseworthy custom to help the poor and donate to worthy causes in memory of a departed one.

Memorial services

A memorial service is an order of church prayers for a reposed Orthodox Christian. Memorial services may be held not only on the third, ninth, and fortieth days and on the anniversary of the death, but also on the reposed person’s name’s day or any other appropriate day (except for a few days of the year). At our church, one must contact the rector to arrange a day and time for a memorial service.

One may bring kolivo to a memorial service. This is cooked wheat with honey or sweet fruits added. The wheat reminds us that we are buried in the ground in order to be resurrected into new life. The honey and sweet fruits remind us of the sweetness of the future life with God.

How much does it cost?

Prayers for the reposed, like all other prayers, are priceless. They cannot be bought or sold. However, it is customary to thank the priest for his time and efforts, and also contribute for the upkeep of the church. The amounts of these donations are determined by the relatives of the reposed in accordance with their individual financial situation. Poverty or financial difficulties should never be an impediment to serving a funeral or memorial service. To pray for the departed is the duty of every priest, the fulfillment of which is far more important than any sum of money.

A checklist for going to the funeral home

One must bear in mind that a funeral home is a commercial organization, whose main goal is to make money. Of course, certain funeral services are very convenient, but often the funeral home benefits from suggesting completely unnecessary services to people. Those who are using the services a funeral home should keep in mind:

• According to Holy Scripture, a Christian should not be cremated, but buried in the earth.
• The coffin should be wooden, so that the body of the departed Christian can naturally return to the earth. Plastic coffins are not suitable for this.
• Christians are not to be embalmed, as embalming hinders the natural process of the return of the body to the earth. If the funeral needs to be held some days after death, then it is sufficient to ask the funeral home to use cold storage.
• Often a viewing of the body is arranged in funeral homes in a special room. In the Orthodox tradition, funeral services are conducted in the church. Thus it is necessary to ensure that the coffin containing the body of an Orthodox Christian be taken to the church. After the funeral, the coffin is then carried or driven (depending on distance) to the cemetery for burial.
• A cross is placed over the grave of an Orthodox Christian. Certain municipal cemeteries may not allow standing monuments, but only flat tiles. In this case, it is necessary to ensure that there is a cross depicted on the tile.

As an attachment to this checklist, you will find “Advance Directive for Funeral and Burial.”  This form can be filled in and kept in an accessible and well-known place, in order that our relatives may take the form to the funeral home.  Having this “Directive” ready can help avoid much confusion on the part of the funeral home, as well as our loved ones.

]]> http://frsergei.wordpress.com/2011/11/14/funerals-and-memorial-services/feed/ 0 Fr. Sergei http://frsergei.wordpress.com/2011/05/07/break-the-holy-bread-master-kindle-edition/ http://frsergei.wordpress.com/2011/05/07/break-the-holy-bread-master-kindle-edition/#comments Sat, 07 May 2011 16:34:06 +0000 Fr. Sergei Sveshnikov http://frsergei.wordpress.com/?p=713 ]]> Break the Holy Bread, Master: A Theology of Communion Bread is now available in the Kindle edition

BREAK THE HOLY BREAD, MASTER

A Theology of Communion Bread

a book by Fr. Sergei Sveshnikov

This work examines the history, theology, and praxis of the use of sacramental bread in traditional Christianity. From the Last Supper to the Great Schism, and from Christology to ecclesiology and Christian anthropology—the symbolism of bread has dominated Christian history and belief. What kind of bread did Christ offer to His disciples at the Last Supper? Why do Roman Catholics and the Orthodox disagree on how to bake bread? What is the significance of the symbolism of bread for Christian theology and praxis? This book addresses these and many other questions. Scholars and bakers, clergy and lay folk alike—all are invited to take a closer look at that which speaks of our unity—one loaf to represent one Body.

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“I am very pleased to offer my recommendation in support of Fr. Sergei’s work “Break the Holy Bread, Master.”  Within its pages, the reader will find a wealth of information that explains and outlines the historical and ecclesiastical development of the use of leavened bread in the Eastern Orthodox Church.  The thesis will benefit anyone who wants to learn more about the liturgical practice of both the Eastern and Western Rite.”

    † Theodosy, Bishop of Seattle, 26 February 2009

An interview for the Orthodox Christian Network: click here to listen

Jane G. Meyer’s review of the book for Ancient Faith Radio: click here to listen

CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE KINDLE EDITION

In the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit!

Dear in Christ Fathers, brothers, sisters, and children,

Today we celebrate the memory of the Holy New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, the heavenly intercessors for our parish.  Their memory is precious to us for many reasons—some personal, some that relate to the entire Russian Church.

Since ancient times, the Christian Church has been strengthened by examples of its martyrs’ unshakable faith.  These examples, passed down through generations of Christians, have nurtured and strengthened the Holy Church.  From the times of the Apostles, Christians have gathered around the holy relics of martyrs, celebrating their memory and looking up to their standing in faith despite torture and persecution as a source of strength and inspiration in their own spiritual lives.

Undoubtedly, the new martyrs and confessors of the Russian Church recalled the holy examples of the ancient martyrs as they themselves were tortured, persecuted, and exiled by the Communist regime.  Countless faithful of the twentieth century—members of the Royal Family and peasants, professors and the illiterate, the rich and the poor, clergy and lay people, men, women, and children—united around the memory of Christian martyrs , and through their intercession were able to defeat the torturers through unwavering standing in their faith in Christ.

History always repeats itself not only in its worst examples but also in its best.  In our time, we, the spiritual and very often direct descendants of the countless new martyrs and confessors of the Russian Church, united around their memory, and through their intercession became witnesses of the great miracle of God—the unification of the Russian Church after eighty years of separation.  Built at the time when the executioners were still in the Kremlin, our little church in Mulino became the first temple in the world to be consecrated to the memory of the holy new martyrs and confessors of Russia.  But today, only a quarter of a century later, we see churches honoring the new martyrs and confessors not only outside of Russia, but also in places where not too long ago were heard pre-execution prayers of the new martyrs.  Now, as if continuing their prayers, the words of the Divine Liturgy ascend from the holy ground of the Butovo polygon and other places soaked in the blood of the new martyrs.

Let us always have the holy example of the new martyrs before our eyes as we live our lives.  Let us find the source of their strength and drink of this fountain of immortality.  As we go about our lives, sometimes giving to God five or ten minutes of our day, sometimes a couple of hours from our week, sometimes even less, let us remember those who gave all, their whole lives and their earthly end to God.  Let us ask that God, through the prayers of the holy new martyrs and confessors of Russia, grant us strength to live our lives the way they lived theirs—in an unshakable faith in Christ and in service to His Holy Church.

Amen!

Mulino, 2008

See also: Sermon on the Day of the New Russian Martyrs (2007) and Memory of the New Russian Martyrs (2010)

Translated from Russian by Priest Michael van Opstall

Dear fathers, brothers, sisters, and children!

Today we celebrate the memory of the Holy New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia. This day is notable for us for several reasons.

A quarter of a century ago, the foundation of our church was laid in the memory of the Holy New Martyrs and under their prayerful protection. Ivan Vladimirovich and Lyudmila Raymondovna Assur founded this church in the memory of Ivan’s father, the New Martyr Vladimir, who was killed for preaching Christ. Metropolitan Veniamin (Fedchenkov), the well-known churchman and writer blessed New Martyr Vladimir to preach. The history of this small parish in its picturesque setting is similar to the mountains which are visible to the northeast: there have been peaks and there have been valleys. The ever-memorable Hieromonk Seraphim Rose once prayed at Divine Liturgy in this solitary place, and later heavy trucks roared along Route 213, destroying the usual prayerful silence. The parish grew and became strong in the Truth. We need not recall all of the days of difficulties, but there was a schism in 2001, the deep wounds of which are not yet healed to this day. By the prayers of the New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, may the Lord strengthen us, and may the trials which are sent to us be for our spiritual growth.

The church was built by the efforts of several families, several of whom are among us today. All of us come to church, pray, and help according to our abilities. But there are certain people who respond to God’s question “Whom shall I send? And Who will go forth for us?” loudly and with full responsibility, “here I am, send me” (Isaiah 6:8). They build, sing, give offerings, and do everything necessary for the existence of the church, and then again they build, and continue to sing, and continue to give offerings, and again do all things that our parish needs… Maybe we do not thing about this often, but without these people, the doors of our small church would not open for services — the doors themselves would not even be there. Therefore, on this day of celebration for our parish, I would like to thank from my whole heart our laborers, who already for a quarter of a century have worked for the good of the parish, without whose sacrificial help and support our parish simply could not exist. By the prayers of the New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, may the Lord give them His most-abundant blessing and many years!

Our laborers, always putting the service of God and others in the first place, follow in the footsteps of those saints whose memory we celebrate today. The Holy New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia show us an example of personal bravery and patient bearing of one’s cross.

The way of following Christ is always the way of cross-bearing. The road to Pascha always passes through Golgotha. Christ went along this road; the first Christians chose this road, and the saints followed after them, generation after generation.

The Holy New Martyrs and Confessors were not only an incarnation of the entire treasure of Christian tradition, but were also exactly worthy imitators of the first Christians. Let us recall that the first work of the infant Church was not leadership by hierarchs, nor monasticism, nor lofty theological thought, but martyrdom and confession. It is precisely the first martyrs and confessors that laid the foundation on which the fruit-bearing tree of Christ’s Church flowered. And it is precisely with this rock of faith, with this apostolic leaven that the holy New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia unite us.

The way of faith in Christ is always the way of cross-bearing. The Lord Himself showed us this salvific path, and if there were some other way that leads to eternal life, then undoubtedly the Lord would have showed it to us. The path of following Christ, the path of imitation of Christ are the paths of humility without complaining, the paths of joyful bearing of sorrows, the ways of bearing not only one’s own, but also others’ burdens, the ways leading to the Cross, the ways leading to the eternal Pascha.

The next time it seems to us that the cross that we are given is greater than we can bear, when not only the attainment of Christian virtues, but even the usual attendance at services and following the Church-established fasts seems unbearable, let us turn with fervent prayer for help to the Lord and to the New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, who did not give only a day or an hour, but their whole lives to Christ.

Hundreds of thousands of people from all over the former Russian Empire suffered for faith, and by this showed their loyalty. In many cities and villages of Russia, churches are now being restored on the places of their executions, on the blood of the new-martyrs. Here is just one of the most fearful examples. On Butovo Field, the NKVD [People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs] shot tens of thousands of people from the 1930s to the 1950s. In the years 1937 and 1938 alone, in fifteen months 20,765 people were shot there. As research has shown, about a thousand of them suffered for Christ and loyalty to His Church. The place where shots and dying groans of uncountable executed people so recently sounded without ceasing is now a place of church prayer. As in the first centuries of Christianity, services were performed over the tombs of the martyrs, even today the Butovo Field has become a place of offering the Bloodless Sacrifice.

On May 15, 2004, Patriarch Alexei II of Moscow and All Russia and the First Hierarch of the Russian Church Outside of Russia, Metropolitan Laurus, laid the foundation of a church in the memory of the Holy New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia on the Butovo Field. This year on the May 20, both hierarchs will perform the consecration of the church. There, at every service prayer will be offered to the Holy New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, just as this prayer has been offered at every service in our church for a quarter century.

Let us remember “all who suffered for faith in Christ in Butovo and in other places during the years of cruel persecution”, let us honor their memory by our God-pleasing lives, and let us bring as a gift to them works of mercy and love.

Eternal memory!

Holy New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, pray to God for us!

Mulino, 2007

See also: Sermon on the Day of the New Russian Martyrs (2008) and Memory of the New Russian Martyrs (2010)

Why Bless a Home?

The Orthodox Church teaches that we do not have two separate lives–a secular one and a spiritual one–but one human life, and that all of it must be holy.  We must not be Christians for just a few hours on Saturday and Sunday, spending the rest of our life godlessly, that is to say, without God.  The person who has united with Christ in the sacrament of baptism cannot be a part-time Christian, but must be faithful to Christ everywhere and at all times–in church, at work, at home, in relationships with other Christians, and in those with non-Christians–we must be faithful to Christ in the fullness of our life.

The Holy Orthodox Church teaches us that a temple is not only a building in which we worship, but that we are temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 3:16); that the Body of Christ is not only that of which we partake at the Divine Liturgy, but that we are the Body of Christ (1 Cor. 12:27).  And just as the Gifts of the Eucharist are treated with reverence and kept in sanctified vessels in the altar, so should every Christian’s life be full of reverence and sanctity not only during a church service, but likewise outside the walls of the temple.  A Christian’s home must become a small temple, work–labor for the glory of God, and family–a small Church.

The Orthodox Church helps her children strive for holiness in their lives and brings sanctification to every Christian home–a small temple.  The Church blesses the very foundation of a home in the same way that it blesses the foundation of a church, it blesses a new Christian home in the same way that it blesses a new temple, and yearly, after the blessing of a parish temple with the water of Theophany, the Church brings this holy water into the homes of the faithful.  The prayers for the blessing of a temple are different from those for the blessing of a home, because the function of a home is different from that of a temple, but the sanctifying action of the Holy Spirit is one.  And just as in the baptism of our Lord all of creation is washed clean and sanctified, every year after the feast of the Baptism of the Lord (January 19, according to the secular calendar) Christians sanctify themselves and their homes with the water of Theophany.

The Church teaches us to sanctify everything: dwellings, places of work, all our pursuits, and the fruits of our labor.  And just as a temple and sacred vessels, once sanctified and set aside for sacred use, can no longer be used for anything profane, in the same way a Christian washed in the baptismal waters, and his home, and all his works can no longer be the dwelling of sin and the works of satan, but only and always–the temple of the Holy Spirit and the fulfillment of the will of our Heavenly Father.  This is why the Church blesses everything that can be found in a Christian home; and if something is not worthy of being blessed, then there should not be a place for it in the home of a Christian. (1)

How Much Does It Cost?

The prayer of the Church is priceless; it can be neither sold nor bought.  The Church equally blesses the home of every Christian, regardless of his financial situation.  However, we must note the obvious: it is not only angels who come to bless our homes, but together with them come the ministers of the altar–people very much like the rest of us, who also must take care of their families, and to whom petrol is dispensed only for money, just like to all of us.  Thus, it is customary to make a donation to the clergy for their time and work.  The amount of this donation is determined solely by each family’s individual circumstances and considerations.

The Blessing of a Home

In order to have your home blessed for the first time or to arrange for a yearly Theophany blessing, you must personally contact the Rector of your parish church.  Historically, clergy could walk to every home in their parish and bless it on the very day of Theophany.  In our current situation in the United States, when many parishioners live tens of miles from the church, it is important to approach the Rector in advance and arrange for an appropriate time for his visit.

For a yearly Theophany blessing of a home prepare a small table in your icon corner covered with a clean cloth, candles, and a vessel with holy water.  For a first-time blessing of a home it is also necessary to prepare a very small amount of pure olive oil.

Although parishioners often wish for the priest to stay for dinner or supper after the blessing of their home, it is necessary to remember that the priest may be blessing several homes in one day and cannot physically eat several dinners and/or suppers in a row.  Do not be offended if the priest must hurry away to another home.  Long spiritual talks over a cup of tea are very important, but it is equally as important to find for them a proper time on a different day, or to ensure in advance that the priest has time after the blessing of your home.

____________________________________________________

(1) Customarily, the water closet is not blessed, because traditionally the toilet was not located inside a human dwelling, but in a separate outhouse away from it.

This paper explores the attitudes within the Russian Orthodox Church toward marital sex by putting the issue into historical,theological, and pastoral contexts.  It strives to begin a dialogue between the laity, married clergy, and monastic hierarchy of the Russian Orthodox Church about one of the important aspects of every Christian marriage–marital sex.

Read the full article at http://www.atijournal.org/Vol4No1.htm

Lesson 12

Introduction

As we are slowly but steadily progressing through the service of the Divine Liturgy, I hope that we can keep one thing in sharp focus: the Liturgy is not an ancient memorial to people and events long gone, it is not an archeological artifact, and it is not a magical rite or a compilation of formulae designed to produce specific results when done properly.  Rather, the Liturgy is one of the most intimate expressions of our relationship with God.  And like any human relationship, our relationship with God requires that not only He shows us His love, but also that we respond in kind.  Therefore, one of the most dangerous things in Christianity is to become a spectator who observes all, but is not willing to participate.  Deacon Andrei Kuraev once likened such people to those who are terminally ill and know which medicine can save them; they know where to get it, they read studies and reports about its benefits, they know all there is to know about this medicine, but they do not take it themselves.  It is easy to see that knowing and partaking are two very different things and lead to two very different outcomes.

Thrice-Holy[1]

In our previous lesson, we talked about the singing of the troparia and kontakia.  During this singing, the priest reads another prayer:

O Holy God, Who restest in the saints, Who art praised with the thrice-holy hymn by the Seraphim, and art glorified by the Cherubim, and art worshipped by all the heavenly hosts, Who from nonbeing hast brought all things into being, Who hast created man according to Thine image and likeness, and hast adorned him with Thine every gift; Who givest wisdom and understanding to him that asketh, and Who disdaineth not him that sinneth, but hast appointed repentance unto salvation; Who hast vouchsafed us, Thy lowly and unworthy servants, to stand even in this hour before the glory of Thy holy altar, and to offer the worship and glory due unto Thee: Do Thou Thyself, O Master, accept even from the lips of us sinners the thrice-holy hymn, and visit us in Thy goodness.  Pardon us every sin, voluntary and involuntary; sanctify our souls and bodies, and grant us to serve Thee in holiness all the days of our life, through the intercessions of the holy Theotokos, and of all the saints, who from ages past have been pleasing unto Thee.[2]

In this very beautiful prayer, we ask the Holy God to sanctify us also and to grant us holiness.  Note that the prayer points not only to what God does to us—our creation in His image, His acceptance of our prayers and of His saints’ intercessions for us, but likewise to our repentance—something that we ourselves must do.

The instructions in the Service Book say that this prayer is being read “while the Trisagion is chanted.”[3] The problem with this is that the ending of this prayer, the exclamation by the priest, is placed before the Trisagion is chanted.  Thus, since logically the prayer’s beginning should precede its ending, the prayer should be said before the Trisagion hymn is chanted.  Additionally, the same Service Book instructs that “both the priest and the deacon themselves say the Trisagion Hymn, making together three bows before the Holy Table”[4]—all while the hymn is chanted.  Thus, in practice, it may be best if the beginning of the prayer is said before its end, that is to say, before the hymn is chanted.

When the priest ends the prayer with the exclamation: “For holy art Thou, O our God, and unto Thee do we send up glory, to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever,” he blesses the deacon with the sign of the cross, and the deacon comes out through the royal doors and exclaims: “Lord, save the pious, and hearken unto us.”  Then he turns toward the people, and pointing at them finishes the prayer: “And unto the ages of ages!” After this exclamation, the singers begin to chant the Trisagion.

The Trisagion, or Thrice-Holy hymn, is said to have been revealed to Christians during an earthquake which happened in Constantinople in the middle of the fifth century.[5] A boy was taken up into heaven, and when he returned, he said he had seen angels singing to the Holy Trinity: “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal.”  The people also began chanting this hymn and adding: “Have mercy on us!”  While this may indeed be what happened during the earthquake in Constantinople, some scholars think that the hymn is much older than the fifth century and may have been used already in the apostolic era.

Epistle

The reading of letters or epistles written by the Apostles is certainly one of the most ancient practices of the Church.  When the early Christians gathered together to break bread, they did not read the Gospel, since it had not yet been written.[6] Instead, they read passages from the Old Testament and the letters written to them by the Apostles.[7]^{, [8]} This tradition of reading the letters of the Apostles has been preserved within the Divine Liturgy.

Prior to the epistles being read, a reader proclaims and the choir repeats a prokeimenon[9]—a short verse taken from the Psalm.  These prokeimena do not correspond to the remembrances of the day.  Rather, there are eight prokeimena which correspond to the eight-Sunday cycle of tones and alternate in a regular pattern.  Unlike the reading of the epistles of the Apostles which is as ancient as the epistles themselves, the prokeimenon before the reading is a later addition to the service.  The earliest mention of a prokeimenon may come from the sixth century; and before that time, instead of only a short verse, entire Psalms were sung in that place in the service.[10] Sometime between the fourth and sixth centuries, the singing of whole Psalms was replaced by the singing of only certain verses.

The epistle reading also alternates in a regular pattern, but instead of an eight-week cycle, it is a year-long cycle.  In addition to the regular reading, there can also be a second and even a third reading to correspond with the saints or events commemorated on a particular day.  The readings come from the epistles of the Apostles and also from the Acts of the Apostles, but not from the Book of Revelation.

When the writings of the Apostles are read, priests sit down in the altar as a symbol of their apostolic succession.[11] This is a purely ritual act which has nothing to do with whether the priest is tired or lazy.  Lay people must stand for the reading of the epistles of the Apostles.  And it would be most inappropriate to wander around the church lighting candles or doing anything else during the reading.  When the epistles of the Apostles are being read, they are being read to us for our benefit, and so we must stand and listen attentively.

Questions for discussion:

1. What do we ask of God in the prayer before the Trisagion?
2. What is the traditional origin of the Trisagion?
3. What is the origin of the reading of the epistles of the Apostles during the Liturgy?

Lesson 11

The Small Entry, continued

The Holy Table

When the royal doors are opened for the Small Entry, the faithful are able to see into the altar.[1] The most prominent item in the altar is the holy table[2].  The modern holy table has much stylized beauty about it—glittery vestments, ornate crosses and Gospels, etc.—but its original simple purpose and meaning are still preserved in the Liturgy.  The holy table is just that—a table.  If we recall an icon of the Last Supper, we will remember that Jesus and His disciples are sitting or reclining at a table.  The earliest Christian catacomb frescoes also depict Christians sitting or reclining around a table during the Eucharist.[3] Thus, the modern holy table is the heir of that ancient table in the Upper Room[4] or a Roman Catacomb which bore the Food of Life, the Holy Gifts of the Eucharist.  In the course of the Divine Liturgy, the Holy Gifts are placed onto the holy table, consecrated, and then distributed to the faithful in Holy Communion.  Often, the Eucharist of the Early Church was served on the sarcophagi containing the relics of Christian martyrs, or at their burial sites.  Today, we also serve our Liturgy on the relics of Christian martyrs—they are placed inside the holy table or sewn into a cloth called the antimins[5] which is then placed onto the holy table.

The Eucharist is a meal, and if we look at the holy table, we will see that it is set for a sacramental supper.  The “main dish” is in the middle of the table.  At the Liturgy of the catechumens, the “main dish” is the word of God, and so we see the Gospel placed in the middle of the holy table.  At the Liturgy of the faithful, which is the second part of the Divine Liturgy, the “main dish” is the Body and Blood of Christ, and we see these Holy Gifts placed in the middle of the holy table at the beginning of the Liturgy of the faithful in the rite which is called the Great Entry.  On each side of the “main dish,” we see the “utensils” which allow us to partake of it—we see the Cross of Christ.[6] The way to the resurrection lies through the cross, and those who wish to partake of the wisdom contained in the words of the Gospel and of the life which is in the Body and Blood of Christ, must take up their cross and follow Him.[7] In some churches, there is a cross placed on the left and the right sides of the holy table.  In other churches, a cross is placed only on the right, and the priest’s Service Book is placed on the left.  In our local tradition, we do not place the Service Book on the holy table at all.

Another prominent feature of the holy table is the container for the reserved Gifts—portions of Holy Communion which are always available for emergency situations.  This container is often made in the form of a small church, but could also look like an ornate box.  Finally, any number of sacred objects might sometimes be temporarily placed on the holy table due to special events or circumstances.  But it is hardly appropriate to keep anything on the holy table which does not directly relate to the sacrament of the Eucharist.  It is also completely inappropriate to place anything on the holy table which does not serve a sacred function, but is a profane object, much as it is unacceptable to take a sacred object and use it for a profane purpose.

Wisdom!  Aright!

When the Small Entry procession—the candles, the deacon carrying the Gospel, and the priest—stop before the open royal doors, the deacon points to the east and says to the priest: “Bless, Master, the holy entry!”  And the priest blesses it with the words: “Blessed is the entry of Thy holy ones, always, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.”  This shows to us once again that the Small Entry symbolically depicts the entry of the faithful into the kingdom of God.

Most Orthodox churches have three clearly separate sections: the narthex or the lobby, the sanctuary or the nave, and the altar.  To understand their significance, we must look back to the very creation of man: “And the LORD God planted a garden in Eden, in the east; and there he put the man whom he had formed.”[8] Thus, we can see Eden, a garden within Eden, and the rest of the earth outside of Eden.  The first man was formed outside of Eden and then brought into Eden and its garden by God.[9] And the man was given a commandment to labor “in order to bring to God most perfect fruits of likeness and righteousness.”[10]^, [11] In the Old Testament, the Temple had the outer court to represent the world, the inner court to represent Eden, and the Holy of Holies to represent the presence of God or direct communion with Him, which was veiled from humankind.[12] In the New Testament, the narthex symbolically represents the world, the sanctuary represents the Church—the presence of Christ in the midst of the faithful,[13] and the altar represents a “more perfect” communion with God in the “unwaining day of His kingdom”[14] to which the faithful are called.

After the priest blesses the entry of the faithful into the kingdom of God, the deacon raises the Gospel and says in a loud voice: “Wisdom!  Aright!”  The word “wisdom” here refers to the Gospel, which is the word of God, and to Christ, Who is the Word of God and God’s Wisdom.  If we recall the secondary meaning of the Small Entry—Christ’s entry into His earthly ministry and preaching—then “wisdom” refers to His words once preached to the crowds in the Holy Land and given to us in the Gospel.  “Aright” is a reminder for us to literally stand aright, compose ourselves, and pay attention to the wisdom of God.[15] It is immediately after these words of the deacon that the clergy and choir sing: “O come let us worship and fall down before Christ…” and the processions enters into the altar.

Troparia and Kontakia

When the Small Entry is concluded, the choir begins to sing a series of hymns called the troparia and kontakia.  These hymns convey the significance of the day, the saints and events being commemorated, and the patron saint of the church in which the service is being held.  This part of the Liturgy is most closely associated with the commemorations of the day, but it is also one of the very few parts of the Liturgy which actually reflect the daily or seasonal commemorations.  The closer we get to the most solemn part of the Liturgy, the anaphora, the less flexible the Liturgy becomes, and the anaphora itself is never changed for any reason—commemoration of a saint, a feast, a fast, or anything else.

Again and again…

After our discussion of the importance and significance of the Small Entry, we should not have to mention that Christians should stand attentively and prayerfully participate in the service.  The Entry is their entry, not just the clergy’s.  Due to the pervasive nature of the problem, however, we must return to this topic again and again.

When the royal doors are open, it is most inappropriate to wander around the church lighting candles or to come in and out of the church, unless there is a very good and urgent reason for this.  Sometimes people who are ill or elderly sit during the singing of the first and second antiphons.  When the royal doors are open and the holy Gospel is brought out, those who are able to stand should stand up.  If they are unable to stand for very long, they could sit down again after the Small Entry is concluded.  Of course, those who cannot stand at all should remain seated.

Those who come in late should very quietly and discretely find a place in the sanctuary where they can join the service without disrupting others.  In churches that have a large narthex, it may be appropriate to pause there and enter into the sanctuary after the Small Entry, praying that God might grant us entrance into His kingdom.  In churches where the narthex is very small, it is necessary to carefully move forward into the sanctuary right away in order not to cause a “traffic jam” in the narthex.

Questions for discussion:

1. What is the function of the holy table?
2. What is the meaning of the three sections of a church?
3. Why isn’t everyone allowed to enter into the altar any time they wish?
4. When the deacon says “Wisdom!  Aright!”—what is he talking about?

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Lesson 10

Introduction

Whereas during the singing of the first two antiphons the clergy and faithful just stand, the third antiphon is different both in its content and in the sacramental act that takes place during it.  Because the clergy begin to do something during the third antiphon—walk in and out of the altar, but the faithful typically remain standing just as they do for the first two, there is a possibility of a disconnect between the actions of the clergy and the participation of the lay people, or lack thereof.  In this lesson, we will learn about the content of the third antiphon, its place in the Liturgy, and the meaning of the clergy’s movements.

The Small Entry

After the third exclamation by the priest, in other words after the third sacramental prayer, the royal doors[1] open, and the choir begins to sing the third antiphon, which on most Sundays consists of the Beatitudes or what is known as Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.[2] Between the verses of the beatitudes, an appointed reader reads special troparia[3] which are also commonly referred to as Beatitudes[4] in liturgical books.  These special verses vary from one Sunday to the next as they follow the eight-tone cycle of services.  We shall not re-print the eight sets of troparia here, but only the actual Beatitudes:

In Thy Kingdom remember us, O Lord, when Thou comest in Thy kingdom.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are you when men shall revile you and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for My sake.
Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in Heaven.

Until this point, most of what we heard in the divine services preceding the Liturgy and in the beginning of the Liturgy itself were remembrances and foreshadowing from the Old Testament.  From this point forward, the Old Testament gives way to the New.  After showing to us God’s mercy and love, and symbolically depicting for us the kingdom of God in the first two antiphons,[5] the Church now invites us to enter into this kingdom.  It is not at all surprising that this invitation begins with the plea of the Penitent Thief[6]: “Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.”[7] The Beatitudes that follow this plea show what kind of people will enter into the kingdom of God.

The troparia which are supposed to be read between the verses of the Beatitudes are omitted in some parish churches.  This is most unfortunate and truly sad.  A Russian liturgical scholar, Mikhail Skaballanovich, once noted: “One cannot speak without pain about the custom of omitting the troparia at the Beatitudes.  And this is done during the Liturgy, a service which is already short and so sacred that here any omissions should be allowed even less than in any other service.”[8]

At the conclusion of the Beatitudes, the clergy enter into the altar in a rite which is known as the Lesser or Small Entry.  The Gospel is solemnly carried by the deacon or priest, preceded by lit candles.  The procession pauses at the royal doors, and the priest says the Prayer of the Small Entry:

O Master Lord our God, Who hast appointed in the heavens the ranks and hosts of angels and archangels unto the service of Thy glory: With our entry do Thou cause the entry of the holy angels, serving and glorifying Thy goodness with us.  For unto Thee is due all glory, honour, and worship: to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.[9]

This prayer is both the prayer of the entry into the kingdom of God and into the sacrament of communion with Christ, both of which are most intimately interrelated.  It is during this Entry and during this prayer that Saint Seraphim of Sarov “saw the Lord Jesus Christ Himself, in the form of the Son of man, proceeding into the Church with the Heavenly host and blessing those praying. The saint could not speak for a long time after being struck by this vision.”[10]

As was noted, this Entry symbolizes the entry of the faithful into the kingdom of God.  But, of course, Christians do not enter into the kingdom by themselves and on their own.  The Gospel which is carried ahead of the procession symbolized Christ, the Word of God, in Whom and through Whom we inherit the kingdom.  At the same time, the Small Entry reminds us of Christ, the Word of God, symbolized by the Gospel, entering into this world preceded by His Forerunner, Saint John the Baptist, symbolized by the candles which are carried ahead of the Gospel.  This latter meaning of the entry, however, is most certainly secondary to the former.

Finally, to conclude the rite of the Entry, the clergy and faithful sing: “O come let us worship and fall down before Christ; O Son of God Who didst rise from the dead,[11] save us who chant unto Thee: Alleluia.”  Note that the Alleluia is sung only once, unlike in many other places in the services.  This is because in this particular prayer we address only Christ, and not the Holy Trinity.  It is with this New Testament entry into the kingdom of God that the Liturgy, the sacrament of the kingdom, actually begins, which is why a bishop if he is present does not enter into the altar until this point.[12]

It is said sometimes that in ancient times the faithful actually walked through the church during the Small Entry, thus symbolically participating in the Entry.  It is difficult to imagine how this would be possible, except in the largest of cathedrals, such as Hagia Sophia.  From Church history we indeed know of very elaborate patriarchal entries, not unlike those of emperors, which took place in the Byzantine Empire.  At times, these processions included more than one church and lasted for several hours.  Additionally, it is said that Gospel books used to be kept in separate repositories, rather than on the Holy Table as is the modern practice, and thus were actually carried into the church from a separate building.  Considering that all three antiphons became part of the Liturgy relatively late in its development, it is indeed possible that the Small Entry was inspired or shaped by these fancy processions.  But in almost all parish churches, any elaborate ritual would have had to be adapted to provide meaning to the individual community in the absence of a huge cathedral, separate Gospel repositories, or the Patriarch of Constantinople.  Whatever its history, the Small Entry with the singing and reading that surround it is among some of the most profound theological insights found in the Divine Liturgy.

Questions for discussion:

1. Based on the priest’s prayer at the Small Entry, what does the Entry symbolize?
2. What other meanings can we see in the Small Entry?
3. If the Small Entry symbolizes the entry into the kingdom of God, what kind of people enter into this kingdom?

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Published on Orthodoxy and the World

In two days, on November, 25, America is going to celebrate Thanksgiving Day which has a very significant role in American families because it is one of the few times a year that the family gets together. Thanksgiving Day is also called a Turkey day because it usually involves a meal with turkey or at least a more elaborate meal. Most American Orthodox Christians started the Nativity Fast on November, 15. How can an Orthodox Christian navigate these family gatherings, often with family who are not Orthodox, and still keep the Nativity fast?

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This question rarely troubles those who keep the Julian calendar, as is the case in the Russian Orthodox Church, since our Nativity Fast begins on November 28.  However, some years, Thanksgiving does land on November 28–the first day of our Nativity Fast.  I can see two approaches to resolving the conflict between fasting rules and a Thanksgiving turkey.

First, in my opinion, there would be nothing wrong if diocesan authorities or even parish rectors chose to relax some fasting rules on this day, especially in those parishes which are composed of mostly American converts to Orthodoxy, who not only have many non-Orthodox family members, but have grown up with the tradition of celebrating Thanksgiving in a certain way.  Perhaps, a token morsel of turkey and a symbolic piece of pie with a heartfelt prayer to God, thanking Him for His boundless mercies to us, is a better witness to Orthodoxy than a senseless discussion among non-Orthodox family members of which foods are allowed and which are not.  A true fast is much more than food.  An Orthodox Christian would do well abstaining from gossip, back-biting, and judging, as well as gluttony, drunkenness, and other sins and passions which may find for themselves fertile soil at the Thanksgiving table.

Second, keeping a strict fast in America is rarely a problem at all.  There are many Americans who do not eat turkey, or pie, or mashed potatoes for any number of reasons–various health and weight-loss diets, vegetarian and vegan convictions, and others.  Most American families seem to have absolutely no problem with someone declining one dish in favor of another and having tofu instead of meat, salad instead of cake, or fruit instead of ice-cream.  Nobody seems to get offended or upset, and Orthodox Christians should stop making belly-pleasing excuses for why they cannot keep the fast.

One thing I would absolutely discourage is for people to individually decide whether they will keep the fast or relax it.  Our fasts are the common fasts of the whole Church; and we should fast as one body or feast as one body.  If our Christian family is keeping a strict fast, then we must also keep a strict fast, even if our biological family will not approve of this.  Of course, we must observe our fast will all gentleness, piety, and discretion, without flashy advertisements of our self-righteousness.

See also Questions and Answers About the Nativity Fast and On the Beginning of the Nativity Fast

Lesson 9

Introduction

The first three sacramental prayers that we discussed in the previous lesson showed us some very important things.  First, their “secret” is the truth about God that we as Christians are supposed to proclaim from rooftops.[1] Second, we as Christians need to know this truth for our own spiritual benefit and in order that we may proclaim it.  What good is a lamp if it is hidden under a bushel?[2] And again, “there is nothing hidden, except to be disclosed; nor is anything secret, except to come to light.”[3] In this lesson, we will continue our discussion of the first part of the Liturgy—the Liturgy of the Catechumens.

Antiphons

Immediately following the great litany, the choir sings the first antiphon.  The word “antiphon” comes from the Greek ἀντίφωνον—ἀντί “opposite” and φωνή “voice.”  It refers to the psalms at the beginning of the Liturgy which are sung alternately by two choirs.  Not all parish churches have two choirs, which means that in those churches the antiphons are sung by only one choir, but in the context of the service of the Liturgy they are still called the first, second, and third antiphons.[4]

On Sundays and lesser feast days, the first two antiphons consist of Psalms 102 and 145.[5] These Psalms compel the faithful to praise and thank God for His love for us which is revealed through His mercy and compassion, especially toward those who are oppressed, needy and afflicted.

Psalm 102

1.      Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name.

2.      Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all his benefits–

3.      who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases,

4.      who redeems your life from the Pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

5.      who satisfies you with good as long as you live so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

6.      The Lord works vindication and justice for all who are oppressed.

7.      He made known his ways to Moses, his acts to the people of Israel.

8.      The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

9.      He will not always accuse, nor will he keep his anger forever.

10.   He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities.

11.   For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;

12.   as far as the east is from the west, so far he removes our transgressions from us.

13.   As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him.

14.   For he knows how we were made; he remembers that we are dust.

15.   As for mortals, their days are like grass; they flourish like a flower of the field;

16.   for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.

17.   But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children’s children,

18.   to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments.

19.   The Lord has established his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom rules over all.

20.   Bless the Lord, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding, obedient to his spoken word.

21.   Bless the Lord, all his hosts, his ministers that do his will.

22.   Bless the Lord, all his works, in all places of his dominion. Bless the Lord, O my soul.

Psalm 145

1.     Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, O my soul!

2.     I will praise the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God all my life long.

3.     Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help.

4.     When their breath departs, they return to the earth; on that very day their plans perish.

5.     Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God,

6.     who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them; who keeps faith forever;

7.     who executes justice for the oppressed; who gives food to the hungry. The Lord sets the prisoners free;

8.     the Lord opens the eyes of the blind. The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down; the Lord loves the righteous.

9.     The Lord watches over the strangers; he upholds the orphan and the widow, but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

10.   The Lord will reign forever, your God, O Zion, for all generations. Praise the Lord!

To this Psalm is also added the Christological hymn of Saint Athanasius of Alexandria (ca. 293-373) which he composed after the First Ecumenical Council and distributed to all of the Churches as a concise theological statement to be proclaimed during services:

O only-begotten Son and Word of God, who art immortal, yet didst deign for our salvation to be incarnate of the Theotokos and ever-virgin Mary; and without change didst become man; and wast crucified, O Christ our God, trampling down death by death; who art one of the Holy Trinity, glorified together with the Father and the Holy Spirit: save us.

Remember that the First Ecumenical Council proclaimed the co-essential and co-eternal divinity of God the Father and His only-begotten Son, and it is this doctrine that we find both in the Nicene Creed composed by the Fathers of the First Ecumenical Council and in the first part of St. Athanasius’ hymn.  The hymn further proclaims that the Son of God became man “without change”—that is to say, through His incarnation He became fully man, like us, but it did not change the fact that He is fully God, “one of the Holy Trinity.”  This concept of uniting things which cannot be united—humanity and divinity—has been a stumbling block and foolishness for the human intellect.[6]

People can much easier understand how God can appear to us as man but not truly be one of us, or how there can be a really good man who, however, is not God.  In the Gospels, the disciples had much trouble comprehending Christ’s divinity, but when they finally did, they lost track of His humanity.  Christ had to convince them of both.  Consider, for example, how after the glorious resurrection, Jesus miraculously appeared among the disciples, and “they were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost,”[7] that is to say, a being that was divine (a spirit), but certainly not human.  Then in order to convince them, Jesus said to them:

“Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?  Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?”  They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence.[8]

Touch Me, watch Me eat—I am human!

St. Athanasius’ hymn is trying to preserve the revelation of the Gospel against Arian and other heresies: immortal and incarnate, one of the Trinity and crucified, one who died and trampled death—this short hymn tacked onto the end of the second antiphon is a treasure of Orthodox theological thought and a true reflection of the Orthodox teaching about the Son of God which we proclaim at every Liturgy.

Again and again…

It is worth mentioning again that you should come to church before the beginning of the service and not in the middle of it.  Even in secular matters it is not polite to be late, and we usually make sure that we are not late for a movie or a concert.  Should God’s house and His service not be treated with much more reverence and punctuality than a concert?

If, due to circumstances outside of your control, you find yourself straggling into church after the service has already begun, and you wish to venerate icons, light candles, or accomplish some other customary task, the best time for this is, perhaps, during the antiphons sung by the choir—not during the litanies when all Christians present—you included—should be praying.  To be sure, there is no good time during the service when it is acceptable to distract yourself or others from the common prayer of the Body of Christ; so, be minimalist and discrete when wandering about the church during the service.  After the Liturgy has ended, you may stay in the church for as long as you wish to complete your private prayers, commemorations, and venerations.

Questions for discussion:

1. What are antiphons?
2. Who composed the hymn “O only-begotten Son” and why?
3. What doctrinal statements can we find in the hymn?
4. Why is it not correct to say private prayers (such as when lighting a candle or venerating an icon) during common and concordant prayers?

Lesson 8

Introduction

According to the current practice, while the deacon proclaims the petitions of various litanies during the Liturgy, the priest “secretly” recites other prayers.  These prayers are even called the secret prayers.[1] This, however, may be a misunderstanding.  In the early Church, Christians indeed hid from persecution and often participated in the sacraments—such as the Eucharist—in secret.  However, this was not in secret from each other, but in secret from those who were not Christian.  Additionally, some of the Christian knowledge, especially with respect to the praxis of the Eucharist, but also to some of the core Christian beliefs—as the latter are inseparable from the former[2]—comprised what was known as the disciplina arcani and was not revealed even to the catechumens until they were fully initiated into Church.  As we mentioned in the previous lesson, the catechumens had to leave the church before the Eucharist began, and as a symbol of the exclusivity of some of the Christian praxis, the deacon calls on the faithful to guard the doors—both of the temple and of our tongue—before the faithful join together in the recitation of the sacred wisdom—the Creed of the Orthodox Faith: “The doors!  The doors!  In wisdom let us attend!”

Concerning the ancient practice of allowing only the faithful to participate in Christian sacraments, Origen wrote around the year 248: “When those who have been turned towards virtue have made progress, and have shown that they have been purified by the Word, and have led as far as they can a better life—then (and not before) do we invite them to participate in our sacraments.”[3]^{, [4]} Likewise, Saint Basil the Great wrote: “Of the dogmas and kerygmata, which are kept in the Church, we have some from the written teaching, and some we derive from the Apostolic tradition, which had been handed down sacramentally (εν μυστηριω). And both have the same strength in the matters of piety. [...] They come from the silent and mystical tradition, from the unpublic and ineffable teaching.”[5]

Thus, one thing is becoming clear: the sacrament of the Eucharist and the wisdom contained therein are to be offered to the faithful, but guarded against the uninitiated or the profane, against those who have not devoted themselves to God and have not shown the fruits of this devotion in their lives.  But herein lies the problem in our discussion of the “secret” prayers of the Liturgy: in the early Church, only those who were serious about living as Christians actually became Christians; and the prayers of the Eucharist were recited aloud for all Christians to hear.  Beginning in the fourth century, however, churches started filling with people who did not strive for holiness in their lives.  Around that time, we see two things happening to the Eucharist: people begin partaking of Holy Communion less and less frequently, and priests begin to recite their prayers in secret.  In the sixth century, this new practice of “hiding” liturgical prayers from the ears of those present became so prevalent that the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I (483-565) was compelled to “direct that all the bishops and presbyters shall pronounce the prayers in connection with the Holy Eucharist and Holy Baptism not silently but with a voice which may be heard by the faithful, so that the hearts of the hearers may be thereby aroused to a greater contrition and a greater praise of God.”[6]

Nearly fourteen hundred years later, Saint John of Kronstadt appeared to agree with the Emperor’s argument: “The priest or the bishop recites many prayers to himself; it would be much more interesting and profitable for the minds and hearts of Christians to be aware of the full text of the Liturgy.”[7]^, [8] Likewise, both future patriarchs—then archbishops—Tikhon (Belavin) and Sergii (Stragorodskii) recommended to the 1917-1918 Council of the Russian Orthodox Church that the “secret” priestly prayers be read aloud for the faithful to hear.[9] Another delegate to the Council, Bishop Nazarius of Nizhni-Novgorod wrote that, “in order that those present would completely understand the structure of this most important liturgical service, by experiencing it in all of its wholeness and seeing how it develops, it might be desirable to permit the secret prayers to be read aloud. This would even be in agreement with the practice of the Early Church. The public reading of the priestly prayers would uplift the prayerful spirit of the worshippers.”[10] Unfortunately, due to the revolution in Russia, the Council never had a chance to discuss such matters.

On the other hand, those who would wish to preserve the secrecy of sacramental prayers may be fighting for a cause which is already lost.  Anyone who wishes to know the full text of the “secret” prayers or anything else about the Divine Liturgy—whether this person is a Christian, a pagan, or an atheist—can find everything he or she is looking for in a vast number of sources—both paper and electronic—made widely available by the Churches themselves.  Service Books containing all of the prayers as well as detailed instructions on how the Liturgy is served are widely available to anyone who wants to purchase them, and no religious affiliation is verified at the check-out counter.  Nothing at all prevents any infidel from studying the Divine Liturgy or even standing in church through an entire service with a Priest’s Service Book in hand.  Thus, hiding the liturgical prayers or making them secret—while certainly a well-established practice—appears to only hinder the understanding of the faithful.  Instead of nourishing the faithful while being veiled from the uninitiated, the sacramental prayers are now available to anyone but are veiled from the faithful.  Our small parish Sunday school classes are certainly not the right place or time to question or discuss whether the current liturgical practice should be revised in any way, but it seems appropriate that Orthodox Christians should be familiar with the complete text of the service in which they are called to fully participate, as we have discussed in previous lessons.  It is for this reason that we will study the “secret” prayers in our lessons.

The Sacramental Prayers

Currently, the sacramental prayers are recited by the priest either silently or in a low voice.  The only parts of these prayers which are said in a loud voice are the very endings or the so-called exclamations.[11] By themselves, these exclamations make little grammatical sense, since they begin with the subordinating conjunction “for” or “because” and therefore must be preceded by some sentence with a predicate which is modified by the subordinate adverb clause.[12]^, [13] Below is the first sacramental prayer in its entirety (the exclamation is in bold):

O Lord our God, Whose dominion is indescribable, and Whose glory is incomprehensible, Whose mercy is infinite, and Whose love for mankind is ineffable: Do Thou Thyself, O Master, according to Thy tender compassion, look upon us, and upon this holy temple, and deal with us, and them that pray with us, according to Thine abundant mercies and compassions.  For unto Thee is due all glory, honour, and worship: to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.[14]

It is to this entire prayer, a plea for God’s mercy and compassion at the beginning of the Divine Liturgy—not merely to the chopped-off adverb clause—that the whole congregation of the faithful replies with “Amen!”—“Let it be so!”

The second and third litanies proclaimed by the deacon—the so-called small litanies—also “end” with exclamations by the priest, which are actually the endings of the second and third sacramental prayers.

Second sacramental prayer:

O Lord our God, save Thy people and bless Thine inheritance, preserve the fullness of Thy Church, sanctify them that love the beauty of Thy house; do Thou glorify them by Thy divine power, and forsake not us that hope in Thee.[15] For Thine is the dominion, and Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory: of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.[16]

Third sacramental prayer:

O Thou Who hast bestowed upon us these common and concordant prayers, and Who hast promised that when two or three are agreed in Thy name Thou wouldst grant their requests: Do Thou Thyself now fulfill the requests of Thy servants to their profit, granting us in this present age the knowledge of Thy truth, and in that to come, life everlasting.  For a good God art Thou, and the Lover of mankind, and unto Thee do we send up glory: to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.

These first three prayers are interconnected and are to be a “common and concordant” petition to the merciful and compassionate God from His people and His inheritance, who have gathered in His house, and who praise and glorify the Holy Trinity.  In the first prayer, through a combination of apophatic and cataphatic definitions,[17] we declare which God we have come together to worship: indescribable, incomprehensible, ineffable, merciful, and compassionate.  In the second prayer, we proclaim that we are God’s people and His children (inheritance), who are under his dominion and subjects in His kingdom.  And in the third prayer we appeal to our God’s goodness and love to grant us our requests and petitions which are both of the “present age” and also of “that to come.”

Questions for discussion:

1. What are “secret” prayers?
2. What is a “common and concordant prayer”?
3. What are apophatic definitions?  Give examples.
4. What are cataphatic definitions?  Give examples.

Lesson 7

Introduction

In the previous lesson, we began our discussion of the Divine Liturgy with its very first words—the blessing given by the priest and the response of the faithful.  In this lesson, we will continue our discussion of the structure of the Liturgy and the fundamentals of the Orthodox faith revealed to us through this service.

The Liturgy consists of two parts: the Liturgy of the catechumens and Liturgy of the faithful.[1] The first part of the Divine Liturgy is called the Liturgy of the catechumens because in ancient times the catechumens attended this part of the service, but had to leave the church when the part called the Liturgy of the faithful began.  Catechumens are people who have decided to become Christian and are preparing for baptism.  In ancient times, this preparation consisted both of instruction in the form of classes, lessons, and lectures, but also of praxis, such as prayer and fasting.  The length of this preparation varied by century, location, and circumstance.  The Apostolic Constitutions, a document which was compiled at the end of the fourth century but is based on much earlier documents, contains the following rule: “Let him who is to be a catechumen be a catechumen for three years.  However, if anyone is diligent and has a good-will to his earnestness, let him be admitted [to baptism].  For it is not the length of time that is to be judged, but the course of life.”[2]

Naturally, as more people became Christian, there were more children who received instruction in the faith from an early age from their parents and the Christian community.  At some point in the history of Christendom, when most people in some countries were born into Christian families, the institute of catechumens diminished or nearly disappeared.  Today it is coming back again both in the United States where adult conversions to Orthodoxy necessitate catechetical work, and in Russia where in some dioceses, for example, parents cannot have their children baptized without first attending catechetical classes or lectures themselves.

“In peace let us pray to the Lord!”

Following the priest’s exclamation—“Blessed is the kingdom of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…”—and the response to it by the people—“Amen,” the deacon (or priest if there is no deacon) begins a litany[3] of various petitions, each one ending with the same words: “let us pray to the Lord.”  This litany, also called the great litany, is one of the most ancient parts of Christian public services.  At the end of the first century, Saint Clement of Rome wrote of a very similar litany, probably taken from the liturgical praxis of the Roman Church.[4] Versions of the great litany are also found in the Liturgies of the Apostles James and Mark, as well as in the documents compiled in the third and fourth centuries—The Testament of our Lord Jesus Christ and Apostolic Constitutions.[5]

We will not focus our attention on the individual petitions of the great litany because these petitions are publically proclaimed by the deacon at every Liturgy, and everyone should be very familiar with them.  What is important is that these prayers are not a conversation between the deacon and the choir, but rather between the people and God.   Writing about this, Saint John of Kronstadt said: “In the sacred services of our Orthodox Church, the clergy and people, or the sacred ministers and people, are presented as one: one heart and one soul … The priest or deacon urge [the faithful] to pray … —the laymen pray, praise, and thank together with the clergy.”[6] This is why the great litany is not a time for people to walk around, whisper to each other, or do anything else that separates them from the common prayer of the Church—rather, it is a time to fully participate in the liturgical work of their community; it is a time for prayer.  The same Saint John wrote concerning prayer: “It is necessary that the one who prays does not forget [even] for a single minute that he is talking to God, standing before Him face to face…”[7]

According to Saint Cyprian of Carthage (ca. 208-258), in prayer we “speak with God.”[8] Likewise, Saint Clement of Alexandria said that “prayer, then, to speak more boldly, is conversation with God.”[9] Even when speaking with each other we must do so with honesty, love, and simplicity,[10] observing the manner in which we speak.  It is equally as important to follow these rules when we speak with God.  Saint Cyprian wrote: “When we pray, we should let our speech and petition be under discipline, observing quietness and modesty … For it is characteristic of a shameless man to be noisy with his cries.  On the other hand, it is fitting for a modest man to pray with modest petitions.”[11]

Proper prayer, however, does not begin with outward discipline, but rather with a proper disposition of the heart.  Tertullian once rhetorically asked: “What reason is there to go to prayer with hands indeed washed, but the spirit foul?”[12] With the very first words of the litany, the Church urges us to pray to the Lord in peace—“meaning: let us pray to the Lord in peace with ourselves, without disturbance of spirit, without any enmity or anger, but with mutual love in accordance with the teachings of the Word of God—(Mark 11:25 and 1 Tim. 2:8).”[13]

Finally, prayer must be mindful.  Saint Ignatii (Brianchaninov) wrote that “he who wishes to practice God-pleasing prayer, must only make sure that his mind maintains attention during prayer.”[14] And again: “A general rule for all who practice prayer is to put the mind into the words of the prayer, in other words, to pray with attention.”[15] Saint John of Kronshtadt gave us very similar advice: “ You go to church and wish that the services might be useful for your soul, and a true feat,[16] and a sacrifice pleasing to God—for this it is necessary to pay attention with your heart and mind to the litanies, prayers, and hymns of the service.”[17] This should go without saying, but sadly it is worth repeating: if you came to church a bit late and did not have time to buy candles, greet your friend, or do some other thing that you usually do—the great litany is not the time to do that; it is not the time to mind your private business as you should be minding the common business of prayer.

“Lord, have mercy!”

To each one of the petitions pronounced by the deacon, the faithful respond with the simple “Lord, have mercy!”  This prayer, while very short, expresses the very depth of the Orthodox understanding of our relationship to God—“…one can hardly find a more sincere and vivid expression for our fundamental and constant relationship to God…”[18]

Why do we keep repeating this prayer?  Saint John of Kronshtadt wrote: “And why do we repeat and frequent our breathing?  [Because] it is necessary, it excites and supports our life.  For the same reason we also need frequent prayer, such as, for example, the prayer ‘Lord, have mercy’…”[19]

Thus, it seems appropriate to end our lesson with a quote from the law of Charles the Great[20] (742-814): “On Sundays, instead of loitering at intersections and streets and spending time talking, dancing or singing secular songs, Christians should attend vigils and vespers and sing ‘Kyrie eleyson’[21] as they walk there and back.”[22]

Question for discussion:

1. What is a litany?
2. Who prays during the litany?
3. Is the great litany a good time to light candles, talk to friends, etc.?  Why?
4. What does it mean: “have mercy (помилуй, ἐλέησον)”?

Lesson 6

Introduction

The most common Liturgy used in the Russian Church is the Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom (349-407).  But other Liturgies also exist, and some are used more or less frequently.  One of the most ancient Liturgies in use today is the Liturgy of the Holy Apostle James († 62).  The Russian Church also uses the Liturgy of Saint Basil the Great of Caesarea in Cappadocia (330-379) and the Liturgy of Presanctified Gifts attributed to Saint Gregory Dialogus (ca. 540-604).[1]

Most Churches that experienced Byzantine influence in their liturgical worship, and this includes the Russian Church, celebrate the Liturgy of Saint Basil ten times a year: on the five Sundays of Great Lent, on Holy Thursday and Holy Saturday, on the Eves or the Feasts of the Nativity and Theophany—depending on the days of the week on which these feasts fall, and on the feast day of Saint Basil— 1 January according to the Church calendar.[2] The Liturgy of Presanctified Gifts is commonly celebrated on Wednesdays and Fridays during Great Lent.[3] And the Liturgy of Saint James is celebrated on the feast day of the saint, but practically never in parish churches.

Many volumes of detailed studies have been written on the origins and histories of each Liturgy, but it suffices to say that it is more likely than not that none of the discussed Liturgies was actually “written” by any of the saints to whom it is ascribed.[4] Almost certainly, when we say “The Liturgy of the Holy Apostle James” or “The Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom” what we actually mean is “The Liturgy of the Church of Jerusalem” and “The Liturgy of the Church of Constantinople.”  In the case of the Liturgy of Saint James, it was likely recorded in writing after the repose of the Apostle based on the unwritten liturgical tradition established by him.  Moreover, “the words, probably, in the most important parts [of the Liturgy of Saint James, and] the general tenor in all portions … [descended to us] unchanged from the apostolic author.”[5]

The liturgical traditions of the Churches in Caesarea and Constantinople[6] already existed by the time that Saint Basil and Saint John were born and were based on the tradition of the Church of Jerusalem.[7] Both saints—Basil and John—are credited with, perhaps, unifying, somewhat modifying,[8] and strengthening existing traditions through writing them down, but certainly not with composing their own Liturgies “from scratch.”  Thus, it is most appropriate to think of the Liturgy as a living tradition of the Church, which nourishes the entire community and is preserved, supported, and maintained by the entire community, including the Apostles and the Fathers who expressed the very foundations of the apostolic faith through the sacred words of the Liturgy.  In this course, we will focus mostly on the Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom as the most common in the Russian Church, and refer to some parts of the Liturgy of Saint Basil where appropriate.

“Blessed is the kingdom of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen!”

Both the Liturgy of Saint Basil and that of Saint John now begin with a very solemn exclamation by the presiding priest: “Blessed is the kingdom of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit!”  Those who pay attention to church services may note that this is a rather rare exclamation.  Most services begin with the words “Blessed is our God, now and always, and unto the ages of ages!”  This latter exclamation is common throughout the Old Testament[9] and is also reflected in the beginning of public worship in modern Judaism.[10] In the modern Russian practice, very few services—only three, to be exact—begin with the blessing of the kingdom of the Trinity.[11] This exclamation denotes both the goal of the sacrament as the gathering of the faithful into the kingdom, and the sacrament’s being of the kingdom—as a window or a portal through which the kingdom comes into our lives.[12]

To this priestly blessing, the faithful respond with “Amen!”  Concerning this, Fr. Alexander Schmemann wrote: “The Church is thus the assembly, the gathering of those to whom the ultimate destination of all life has been revealed and who have accepted it. This acceptance is expressed in the solemn answer to the doxology: Amen. It is indeed one of the most important words in the world, for it expresses the agreement of the Church to follow Christ in His ascension to His Father, to make this ascension the destiny of man.”[13]

“Let us stand aright!”

This acceptance of God’s destiny for mankind and our prayerful agreement with the words of the priest or deacon is expressed not only through a verbal form, which is connected to our mind and soul, but also through the actions of our bodies.  First, in the Russian tradition, we stand during the Liturgy.[14] In some way it is due to a feeling of deep reverence before God’s temple, service, and Sacraments.  In the Orthodox mindset, one stands before God, not sits before Him.  On the other hand, the service is not a time for rest and meditation, but for co-laboring with God in the task of our salvation.  An outward symbol of our readiness to work is standing on our feet, not sitting.  As we discussed in previous lessons, Liturgy is “common work,” and we stand ready to participate in this work.  Standing up allows us to compose our bodies and through this help compose our minds and souls.

Standing also creates prayerful unity between the faithful and the clergy who stand during the service.  The way we act outwardly affects the way we feel inwardly; and if the clergy “perform” the service while the faithful sit, it may cause a disconnect between the prayers of the clergy and the prayers of the faithful.  Imagine a priest sitting before the Holy Table or a deacon sitting down while urging the faithful with the words: “Let us pray to the Lord!”—that would be rather odd.  No, the priest and the deacon stand before God.  But they do not represent themselves only; they represent the entire Christian community who stands (literally!) behind them.

The Sign of the Cross

Another outward expression of prayer is the sign of the Cross.  This is one of the most ancient customs that Christians keep.  The holy Apostles boasted in the Cross[15] and worked miracles by the sign of the Cross.[16] Tertullian, writing around the year 211, said: “At every forward step and movement, at every going in and out, when we put on our clothes and shoes, when we bathe, when we sit at the table, when we light the lamps, when on the couch, when on a seat, and in all the ordinary actions of daily life, we trace the sign [of the Cross] upon our foreheads.”[17] Saint Anthony of Egypt (ca. 251-356) taught about the power of the sign of the Cross:

When, therefore, they [the demons] come by night to you and wish to tell the future, or say, ‘we are the angels,’ give no heed, for they lie. Yea even if they praise your discipline and call you blessed, hear them not, and have no dealings with them; but rather sign yourselves and your houses, and pray, and you shall see them vanish. For they are cowards, and greatly fear the sign of the Lord’s Cross, since of a truth in it the Saviour stripped them, and made an example of them .[18]^, [19]

And in the same manner we, modern Christians, seal ourselves with the sign of the Cross at all times, and also as our outward expression of the prayer offered by the whole Church in the service of the Divine Liturgy.

Questions for discussion:

1. Why do we stand during the Liturgy?
2. What should we do if we have an injury or if we are weak due to age or illness?
3. Why do we cross ourselves?

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Lesson 5

Introduction

Having prepared ourselves, we are now ready to enter into God’s temple.  But let us now pay attention—there should be nothing mechanical in our actions, everything we do must be deliberate and intentional, filled with reason and meaning.  Let us return to the beginning: we are now ready to enter into God’s temple.  First, it is God’s.  We have been invited by the Creator of all—not just the Earth, and the stars, and the galaxies, but of the very space, and matter, and time, and amazing things of whose existence we cannot even guess—to enter into His innermost Holy of Holies, to enter into communion with Him, and to quite literally enter into His Body even as He enters into our bodies.  Second, it is a temple.  It is a space and time sanctified, set aside, for the service of God—and only and exclusively for this purpose.[1]

“I will enter thy house, I will worship toward thy holy temple…” (Ps. 5:7)

The clergy come to church a certain time before the Divine Liturgy is to begin in order to prepare everything that is necessary.  As we mentioned earlier, this preparation is called prothesis or proskomedia—“a setting forth” or “an offering.”  Most commonly in the Russian Church, this preparation takes place out of the view of the lay faithful.  We will discuss this service in a bit more detail shortly.  At this point, let us just note that when most lay people enter the church, there is already a service going on in the altar.

Upon entering the church it is customary to thrice make the sign of the cross with prayer.  The words of the prayer can be found in almost any prayer book, but here is one shortened example: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner. [bow][2] Thou hast created me; Lord, have mercy on me. [bow]  I have sinned immeasurably; Lord, have mercy and forgive me, a sinner. [bow]”  A church is not a grocery store where one can quickly run in to pick up some bread or bottled water.  A church is the house of God, thus we must pause, pray, or just ponder the holiness we are about to enter.  Some of the first things we may notice as we enter into the narthex are the candles and commemoration booklets.

Candles

Even if people know nothing at all about Orthodoxy, they seem to know that they are supposed to “light candles.”  But what meaning do the candles have?  Let us note two points.  First, burning candles represent our burning faith and flaming prayer.  Even if some find neither in their hearts, it is, nonetheless, not enough to just “light a candle.”  A burning candle by itself means absolutely nothing if it is not accompanied by our prayers and faith in God Who hears and answers them.

Second, the tradition of lighting candles in the church comes from the times when burning candles, along with oil lamps, provided the only sources of light.  Additionally, in the first several decades of Christianity, services were often conducted with “the doors … locked for the fear of the Jews,”[3] or in dark catacombs for the fear of the Romans, or at night.  Christians lit oil lamps and candles in order to see the faces of the saints on the icons and to provide some light during the service.  Nowadays, the sale of candles is one source of income for a church.  The modern faithful who buy candles, just as the early Christians, through this small offering keep the lights on in their churches.  Some also follow a good and pious custom of donating olive oil to the church to be used in the oil lamps.

Commemorations

As we said earlier, the clergy come to church a certain time before the Liturgy is to begin in order to prepare everything that is needed.  This preparation takes place during the service of prothesis.  During this service, the deacon prepares bread,[4] wine, and water.  Then the priest takes one loaf and prepares the Lamb which is to become the Body of Christ, while reciting Old Testament passages that prophesy the suffering and death of Christ.  The deacon pours some wine into the chalice and adds a small amount of water in remembrance of blood and water flowing from the side of Christ’s Body.[5]^{, [6]} The Lamb, representing Christ, is placed on a flat round dish called the diskos.  Other particles representing the Mother of God and the saints are cut from other loaves[7] and placed around the Lamb, thus symbolically composing the heavenly Church gathered around its Head—the Lord Jesus Christ.  Finally, particles of bread are cut to represent us, Orthodox Christians, the Church on earth, and are also placed on the diskos.  Thus, the entire Church—Christ, the Theotokos, the saints, and the living and departed faithful—is symbolically represented on the diskos.[8] During the course of the Divine Liturgy, this bread will be sanctified by the Holy Spirit and become the true Body of Christ.

The commemoration booklets that we send to the altar before the service contain the names[9] which are read in the course of the service of prothesis, and bread particles representing the named people are taken out and placed on the diskos.  The particles are taken out of loaves which are called prosphoras.[10] These loaves are offered by the faithful for the service of prothesis.  In the Russian tradition, two loaves are offered by each family—one for the living and one for the departed.[11] Thus, through the offering of the sacramental bread and through commemorations, the faithful participate in the preparation for the Divine Liturgy.

Whose names should be listed in the commemoration booklet?  First, they should only be names of Orthodox Christians—living and departed.  As we discussed, the particles for these names are taken out of sacramental bread and placed on the diskos to represent the Orthodox Church.  People who belong to other denominations, other religions, who were once baptized Orthodox but since then have rejected Orthodoxy, or who are non-believers do not belong to the Orthodox Church, are not commemorated during the service of prothesis, and their names should not be written in the church commemoration booklets.  This does not mean that the Church does not pray for those people—it does during many other services.  But in the service of prothesis, the Church acknowledges the free will of people who choose not to be in the Church and does not force them onto the diskos, as it were, even symbolically.

Second, the names in your commemoration booklet should be the names of the people whom you remember in your daily prayers.  In your daily prayers you may pray for more people than those whose names you submit for commemoration in church, since at home you may pray for anyone—Orthodox and not.  But you should not have more names in your church commemoration booklet than the people for whom you regularly pray at home.  If you do not want to pray for someone—do not write the name into your church commemoration booklet.

Finally, it should go without saying that the commemoration booklets and prosphoras should be sent to the altar before the beginning of the Divine Liturgy.  For obvious reasons, the service of prothesis should be completed by the time the Divine Liturgy begins.  Due to the tardiness of many parishioners, however, it is now not uncommon to see commemoration booklets sent to the altar well after the beginning of the Liturgy.  This forces the priest to shuttle back and forth between the two services, unable to give his full attention to either.[12] As widespread as this practice is, it is improper and must be rooted out.  If you are chronically tardy, the best thing to do is to make arrangements with the clergy for your commemoration booklet to be taken to the altar at the appropriate time even if you have not made it to church yet.

The Third and Sixth Hours

Immediately before the Liturgy, two smaller services are read in the church—they are the third and sixth hours.  The third hour consists of the 16^th, 24^th, and 50^th psalms[13] with additional prayers.  The theme that unites these psalms is the prayer for righteousness and help in the fight against sin.  At the same time, the faithful are encouraged to contemplate Pilate’s condemnation of Christ and also the descent of the Holy Spirit on the Apostles—the events that happened in the third hour.[14]

The sixth hour contains the 53^rd, 54^th, and 90^th psalms[15]—all of which speak about a righteous man being persecuted by enemies.  The reading of this hour should remind us of “how at the sixth hour of the day our Saviour, bearing His Cross, was led away for crucifixion and how mercilessly He was nailed cruelly with four spikes to the Cross…”[16]

Questions for discussion:

1. How do lay people participate in the service of prothesis?
2. Should a person who was once Orthodox but then rejected Orthodoxy be commemorated in church at the service of prothesis?
3. Should a person who never goes to church but has not rejected Orthodoxy be commemorated in church at the service of prothesis?

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Lesson 4

Introduction

Beginning with the next lesson, we will examine the structure of the Divine Liturgy.  We will not, however, concentrate on all of the actions of the clergy, the way a seminary student would learn how to serve when he is ordained a deacon or a priest.  Rather, we will focus our attention on the meaning of the various parts of the Liturgy, that is to say, the fundamentals of our faith contained in the Liturgy, and on the way that the faithful participate in the service.

In this lesson, we will briefly discuss how one must prepare for participation in the Divine Liturgy.  We will come up, as it were, to the very door of the temple, without entering in until next Sunday.

“Prepare the way of the Lord, make His paths straight” (Mark 1:3)

Every good deed begins with preparation, and so does the Liturgy.  The daily cycle of services in the Orthodox Church does not begin with the Liturgy—it culminates with it; it finds its highest point in the Holy Eucharist.  In this course, however, we will not study the services that precede the Liturgy—a topic which we hope to cover next year.  This year, we will fast-forward directly to the service of prothesis,[1] also known by another Greek word—proskomedia, or “an offering.”  But first, let us discuss what is necessary to begin the Divine Liturgy.

The most necessary part of the Liturgy is the people’s readiness to enter into communion with God.  This includes both the clergy and the lay people.  As we discussed in previous lessons, the Liturgy is “common work,” thus, the Eucharist is not offered by the priest alone or by the choir, but by the community of the faithful.  Similarly, the salvific Gifts of our Lord are not offered to the priest, or the deacon, or only to very young children, but to the Church, to all those who are in the Body of Christ.  In the Early Church, all Christians communed at every Eucharist: “Then [the Eucharist] is distributed to everyone, and everyone participates in [the bread and wine], over which thanks has been given.”[2] But the early Christians’ faith was reflected in their holy lives.  All of us, modern Christians, are also called to holiness in our lives and to frequent communion, but many do not find the strength to persevere as did the early Christians, and so most do not commune at every service.[3] A good rule seems to be to partake of the Holy Communion once during each one of the four major fasts and on every major feast of the Church, including one’s own Name’s Day and the patronal feast of one’s parish.  This, however, does not mean that those who do not plan to commune do not participate in the Liturgy, are mere spectators, and need not prepare themselves for the service.  On the contrary—every Orthodox Christian must participate in the service to the degree that he or she is able and ready.

The Church offers us several tools which help us prepare our whole person for the divine service—our body, mind, soul, and spirit.  Those who are preparing for communion should observe a bodily fast.  The length of this fast can vary, but in general, Friday of almost every week of the year must be observed as a day of fasting, a limited fast can be observed on Saturday, and no food or drink should be taken from midnight until after communion.  This last rule also applies to those who are not preparing for communion—if able, they should observe the liturgical fast of the Church from midnight until after they partake of the antidoron.[4] Married couples should also abstain from spousal relations.

To those who are preparing for communion, the Church offers a collection of very beautiful and meaningful prayers which can be found in most Prayer Books.  These prayers help us lift our spirits to God and purify our souls.  The exact prayer rule before communion may vary depending on the recommendations of an experienced spiritual father.  Those who are not preparing for communion must still fulfill their daily prayer rule and may choose to read at least a few of the prayers before communion to remind themselves of the Treasure which is offered to us by Christ.

In the Russian Church, an important and necessary part of preparing for communion is confession.  One must go to confession every time before partaking of Holy Communion, with few individual exceptions.

Finally, all should attend the evening and morning services which lead to the Divine Liturgy: the vigil, or vespers and matins, and the hours.  Other services may also be served in some places, and some may be omitted.  But whatever services are offered are for our benefit and the faithful should try to attend; especially those preparing for communion should make every effort.  And when making the effort to come to the house of our God, let us not forget about one thing that may seem trivial, but is nonetheless worth mentioning: proper attire.

“I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness…” (Isa. 61:10)

Quite often we hear misunderstandings about the reasons why the Church has rules about our garments: “What difference does it make to God what I wear?”  Indeed, there is no difference to God what we wear, because He looks at our hearts, not our clothes.  But to us it really matters what we have on and how we are dressed.  When getting ready for a ball, for example, a lady puts on a beautiful gown, and it would be strange indeed to attend an official reception dressed in a swim suit.  But when going to a barn to do chores, we do not don a tuxedo.  So, it is not surprising that some clothes are fitting to wear to church and others are not.

In the Russian Church, it is customary that men wear trousers and a long-sleeved shirt (sweater, jacket, etc.).  It is unacceptable to come to church in shorts, exercise pants, or a t-shirt.  Jeans, especially with fashionable holes, can be worn to a party, but it is best not to wear them to God’s temple.

Women should wear a skirt and blouse or a dress, and cover their heads.  The outfit should have long sleeves and no décolleté.  In general, displays of sexiness are out of place in church; God’s temple is a place for prayer, not for attracting everyone’s attention.  The center of attention in church should be God, not our person.

Of course, this does not mean that we cannot wear anything beautiful.  Quite the opposite: in church everything should be beautiful—architecture, art, vestments.  And our garments need to be clean, neat, and beautiful.  But we must try to develop our taste, and learn to distinguish between what is beautiful and what is flashy.

Avoid having large writing on your clothes, especially if you cannot read it and do not know what it means.  Various images are also unacceptable; we come to church in order to pray and to be inspired by the images of saints, but not at all in order to advertise our favorite cartoon or rock band.  Finally, in church, you should not advertise the companies that produced your clothing.  If you wish to be a walking billboard for American Eagle, Hollister, or any other company, you should do this outside of church.

What to do if the weather is too hot?—Follow the rules of Church etiquette.  Take a look at the clergy: even in the heat, they are dressed in a cassock (with long sleeves), a sticharion (also with long sleeves), and a priest also puts on a phelonion.  Just imagine if the clergy began to serve on hot days in tank-tops, shorts and sleeveless vestments; that would be unthinkable.  In the same way, the laymen also should not complain about the weather, but humbly keep the rules of Church etiquette.  In some parishes, however, short sleeves have become acceptable, so one must seek guidance from his or her parish rector.

“…and the house was filled with the fragrance…” (John 12:3)

Should you wear perfume or eau de Cologne?  If the smell is good, then yes, but not in church.  Remember that some people are allergic to perfumes and can suffer an allergic reaction or asthma attack because of your choice of a smelly substance.  If for some good reason you absolutely have to use something smelly, try to use as little of it as possible.

Makeup is also out of place in church.  To dirty an icon or cross with lipstick is disrespectful, not only toward the sacred object, but also toward the people who will venerate it after you, as well as toward those who will then have to clean up the smears of lipstick.

Bishops and Priests

The last requirement in preparing for the service of the Divine Liturgy that we will discuss in this lesson is the presence of an officiating priest or bishop.  Not every instance of partaking of bread and wine is the sacrament of the Eucharist.  The sacrament of the Body cannot exist outside of the Church, which is the Body of Christ.  In other words, if someone simply decides to eat bread and drink wine, it will be just that—bread eating and wine drinking.  Only a properly ordained priest who is under a properly ordained bishop can officiate the sacrament of the Eucharist.  This proper ordination is part of what is known as apostolic succession.

Apostolic succession is the means by which the temporal continuity of the true Church is preserved.  A necessary element of this succession is the successors of the Apostles—people who preserve the faith of the Apostles, their teaching, and who officiate the sacraments of the Church.  It is commonly said today that Orthodox bishops are the successors of the Apostles, and that is true—each Orthodox bishop can trace his ordination through almost two millennia to one of the Apostles of Christ.[5] Bishops are also charged with preserving the faith of the Apostles and teaching it to the Church.  The Fathers of the Early Church, however, saw bishops as representing Christ Himself to their respective Churches, and they saw priests as succeeding the Apostles in their ministry.  Saint Ignatius of Antioch (ca. 35-107), for example, wrote that “the bishop presiding after the likeness of God and the presbyters after the likeness of the council of the Apostles.”[6] Likewise, Saint Irenaeus of Lyons († ca. 202) wrote: “…we refer them [the heretics—S.S.] to that tradition which originates from the Apostles and is preserved by the successions of presbyters in Churches.”[7]^, [8] A modern-day liturgical echo of the view of priests as the successors to the Apostles can be seen in that the priests sit down within the altar when the epistles of the Apostles are being read in the course of the Liturgy.

Thus, it is necessary for a priest or bishop to officiate any sacrament of the Church, including the Eucharist.  The only exception is baptism.  In emergency situations, when the life of the person who wishes to be baptized is in danger and no priest or bishop is nearby, any Orthodox Christian—man or woman—can and should perform the baptism.  But this is a topic for a different time.

Now we have prepared ourselves for the celebration of the Divine Liturgy and are ready to enter into the holy temple of the Lord.  Next week, we will proceed into the narthex, or the entryway, and continue our discussion of the service of prothesis which was briefly mentioned at the beginning of this lesson, and of the ways that the faithful participate in it.

Question for discussion:

1. Who celebrates the Divine Liturgy?
2. Should people who do not plan to partake of Holy Communion prepare for the Liturgy nonetheless?
3. What is the role of a priest or bishop in the celebration of the Eucharist?

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[1] From Greek Προθησις—“a setting forth”

[2] Justin Martyr (103-165). First Apology, ch. 67

[3] Such has been the practice in the Russian Church.  There are varying practices in other Orthodox jurisdictions.

[4] From Greek anti- and doron—“instead of the gifts”: pieces of the liturgical bread that those who did not partake of communion—the Gifts—receive after the end of the Divine Liturgy.

[5] This fact in itself, while fascinating, is not as important as the apostolic succession of each local Orthodox Church.  Lutheran pastors, for example, as long as they can trace their ordination to Martin Luther, and through him to the Catholic Church, can also trace it all the way back to one of the Apostles, perhaps Peter himself.  But without the succession of the true faith, the laying-on of hands can become a mere historical curiosity.

[6] Epistle to the Magnesians 6:1

[7] Against Heresies 3:2:2

[8] Although, it must be noted that some early Christian authors used the words “priest” (“presbyteros”) and “bishop” (“episcopos”) interchangeably.

Lesson 3

Introduction

In the previous lesson, we undertook the difficult task of defining some key terms for our discussion of the Eucharist.  As tedious as this task was, it allows us to come closer to the main topic of this course and begin our study of the Eucharist.  As we discussed earlier, the Eucharist is a sacrament or even The Sacrament—it is the covenant between God and His people, the means by which Christ enters into us and we enter into His Body—and the two shall be one flesh.  Thus, we uncover one more meaning of the word sacrament—a covenant.

In our discussion of sacraments we noted that there seem to be many sacraments of which Christians partake, but really there is only one—the sacrament of our salvation.  We can now apply the same paradigm to covenant.  God has established many covenants with the human race: the covenant with Adam, the covenant with Noah, the covenant with Abraham, the covenant with the patriarchs, the covenant with Moses, and many others.  But if we examine all of these covenants, we will realize that they are not separate covenants, but instead the same covenant between God and man, which was confirmed and reassured at different times and in different ways.  Let us now try to place the Eucharist in the context of only three sacred covenants: the covenant of Adam, the covenant of Moses, and the covenant of Christ.

The Covenant of Adam

As with the story of the original sin in Lesson 2, we will not retell the entire section on the creation of man from the Book of Genesis, but instead focus only on the verses that are relevant to the covenant God established with Adam.  Within the brief account in Genesis of the first humans’ stay in the Garden of Eden and their expulsion from it, we notice three divine ordinations: “be fruitful and multiply” (1:28), “I have given you… food” (29), “the LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it” (2:15).  The same three acts—procreation (marriage), eating, and labor[1]—were corrupted by original sin and became curses: “I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children” (3:16), “cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth to you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread” (17-19).  But if we now recall our definition of sin as an illness rather than a crime, and of God as the Divine Physician rather than an executioner, then we can also think of the “curses” as spiritual medicine or sacraments.[2] Indeed, one of the most profound mysteries of Christianity is that of Christ and the Church—“the two shall become one flesh;” we refer to its highest form of worship as λειτουργία, or “work of the people,”[3]^{, [4]} and the highest sacrament is a meal at which the Body and Blood of God are consumed.

Let us look more closely.  Labor, undoubtedly, can be understood as the work of tilling the garden of one’s soul, as fighting against the “thorns and thistles” of sins that it produces[5]—the labor of repentance necessary for becoming the likeness of God, the highest fruit of which—the mystical union with God—is represented in the Liturgy:

The purpose of this [God’s withholding His likeness from man—see Gen. 1:27] was that man should acquire it [God’s likeness] for himself by his own earnest efforts…[6]

But it is proper that one part [God’s image] is given to you, while the other [God’s likeness] has been left incomplete: this is so that you might complete it yourself…[7]

Eating is one of the most sacramental acts that humans perform.  Even when taken outside of any religious context, eating sustains life, provides for growth, and gives us a most intimate connection to the physical world—we literally devour it.  In the religious context, Christ Himself became “the food of the whole world”[8] and is consumed in the sacramentum sacramentorum—Communion.[9]

Finally, the union of man and wife—similar to labor and eating—can be seen as having both a natural side and a mystical, sacramental, “invisible reality”:

Even in the beginning, when woman was made from a rib in the side of the sleeping man, that had no less a purpose than to symbolize prophetically the union of Christ and His Church.[10]

If the union of Adam and Eve is a great mystery in Christ and in the Church, it is certain that as Eve was bone of the bones of her husband and flesh of his flesh, we also are members of Christ’s body, bones of His bones and flesh of His flesh.[11]

Thus, all three sacraments work together in the context of the Eucharist to achieve the same goal—the healing of man and his union with God.

The Covenant of Moses

The next covenant which will help us better understand the meaning of the Eucharist is the story of the exodus of the Jews from Egypt.  God made a covenant with Moses that He would save the Israelites and deliver them from slavery.  The Jews had to offer a sacrifice, partake of the flesh of a sacrificial lamb, and put its blood on the lintel and doorposts of their houses.  On a certain night, the Lord struck down the Egyptians, but passed over the houses of the Israelites that were covered by the blood of the sacrificial lamb.[12] Then the people had to hastily leave the land of their slavery and undertake a journey to the land of freedom which was promised to them by God—the Promised Land.

It is easy to establish a parallel between the exodus of the Jews and the Eucharist.  In the Eucharist, God establishes a covenant with His people through the sacrifice of Christ—the perfect Lamb.  Those who partake of His Body and cover the houses of their souls with His Blood escape the death of sin and are freed from its slavery.  But just as the Israelites of old, the New Israel must also leave the land ruled by the spiritual Pharaoh, the devil, in haste, without regrets or looking back, in order to inherit the kingdom of God—the Promised Land.  Thus, the Christ of the Eucharist is the new and true Passover Lamb.

The Covenant of Christ

The last sacramental covenant that we will examine in this lesson is the covenant established by Christ through what is known in English as The Last Supper.  The word last here refers to the last meal that Christ ate before He was arrested and crucified.  Although, perhaps it is better to focus on the sacramental character of the event rather than its earthly chronological significance and to call it The Sacramental Supper,[13] as is done in the Church Slavonic language.

It is often said that the Last Supper was the first Eucharist:

While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it He broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is My body.” Then He took a cup, and after giving thanks He gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.[14]

Certainly, by these words, Christ established what we now know as the Eucharist.  But this can be called the first Eucharist only figuratively.  The word first implies that there are others (second, third, etc.), but this way of thinking has definite flaws.  If the “other Eucharists” are reenactments, then they are meaningless—merely theatrical performances, devoid of the reality of the original.  On the other hand, if the “other Eucharists” are true recreations, then Christ must be born over and over again, walk the earth over and over again, be crucified over and over again—a proposition which would require millions of Christs to be condemned to death every single week.  While there is hardly a conundrum that scholastic theology cannot resolve with a great degree of success, in this case it appears to be unnecessary.

There is one God, one Lord, Jesus Christ,[15] one Body, and one Spirit.[16] There is only one Sacramental Supper—that which is offered by Christ Himself.[17] And through the Eucharist, we are received as communicants of the one and only Mystical Supper of Christ[18]: “Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread.”[19] This means that the Christ of every Eucharist is not a new reincarnated Christ, but the same, one and only Son of God; and the bread of our Eucharist is not a new loaf every time, but the one and only bread of the Mystical Supper.

Of course, we obviously gather in our church in Mulino, Oregon—not in the upper room of the Gospels[20]—in the twenty-first century—not the first; and our sacramental bread is baked by one of our parishioners—not by the Apostles Peter and John.[21] But let us not forget that in the Eucharist we partake of things not of this world[22]; not of temporal but of eternal—of that which is outside of time.  Thus, we cannot speak of “there” and “here” or “then” and “now,” but rather of “now, and ever, and unto the ages of ages.”

Question for discussion:

1. In light of our discussion of covenants, explain why non-baptized people cannot partake in the Eucharist.
2. In light of our discussion of the Church as the Body of Christ, explain why non-baptized people cannot partake in the Eucharist.
3. Can you find any elements in the Old Testament covenants that we have not discussed that point to the Eucharist?

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[2] Of course, sin is also a crime and the curses are punishment, but they are the type of punishment which is designed to help us rehabilitate rather than to simply make us suffer.

[3] From λαός—“people” and  -ουργός < ἔργον—“ work”; could be translated as either “work of the people” or “work for the people,” and in the most profane sense, “public works.”

[4] This is but one example of the sacramental status of labor.  A more interesting case for study, in my opinion, is the third chapter of 2 Thess.  The Apostle Paul entreats the faithful to work; and “if anyone will not work, let him not eat” (10).  Considering that much of eating in the early Christian community was the form of agape meals (see, for example, The Letters of Pliny the Younger, book 10, letter 97), there can be envisioned a clear liturgical connection between work and the sacrament of the Eucharist.

[5] cf. Gen. 3:18

[6] Origen. On First Principles 3.6.1.

[7] Gregory of Nyssa. On the Origin of Man.

[8] From the Prayer or Oblation at the service of prothesis (the proskomede). The Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. Jordanville: holy Trinity Monastery, 1999, p. 23.

[9] In must be noted that the words sacramentum sacramentorum are referred to the Eucharist within which Communion takes place.

[10] Augustine of Hippo. City of God 22:17.

[11] Ambrose of Milan. Letters to Laymen 85.

[12] Exod. 12:29

[13] Some prefer the term Mystical Supper.

[14] Matt. 26:26-8

[15] 1 Cor. 8:6

[16] Eph. 4:4

[17] See, for example, the Epistle of Saint Ignatius of Antioch to the Philadelphians: “Take heed, then, to have only one Eucharist.  For there is one Flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ, and one cup to the unity of His Blood” (ch. 4).

[18] Tου δείπνου σου του μυστικού, σήμερον, Υιέ Θεού, κουνονων με παραλάβε (from prayers before Communion in the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom).

[19] 1 Cor. 10:17

[20] Luke 22:12

[21] Luke 22:8

[22] Cf. John 18:36 and 8:23

Lesson 2

Introduction

Before we begin our study of the Liturgy and the foundations of our faith expressed through this service, we must define a few key terms that will help us in our discussion: sin, Eucharist, sacrament, baptism, and repentance.  Because this course is designed for people who are not theologians by training and is not intended to produce professionally trained theologians, our definitions and discussions will necessarily be incomplete.  We will try to examine only a few of the key ideas in ways that are easy to understand, but I urge all students to note things that seem interesting, ask questions, refer to the works of the authors whose names are mentioned in the lessons, and study the source texts directly.

Sin

We shall not retell here the story of the first humans—Adam and Eve—both because it is well-known and because it can be easily found in the first few chapters of Genesis.  What is important for us to remember is that the Scriptures speak to us about the other-worldly things by using the words and concepts from this world which we can understand and to which we can relate.  Consider, for example, the parables of Christ: “…the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves,”[1] and others, in which He likens the kingdom to farming, baking, or fishing.[2] Likewise, when we talk about sin, we often have to use images that are familiar to us, even though they do not fully describe the spiritual reality.

Various Christian authors have talked about sin using various analogies: some have likened it to an act of disobedience, others—to a personal offence to God, yet others—to a crime or a trespass against divine law.  Undoubtedly, certain elements of each description can be useful.  But in our discussion of sin, it seems helpful to liken sin to a disease, a contagious illness.  Having allowed this disease to enter their nature and to afflict it, Adam and Eve passed this corrupted nature to every one of their descendants, that is to say, to the whole human race.  Everyone born of Adam carries in his nature the terminal illness of the original sin.  This illness also corrupts and brings into disarray the divine order of our being, in which our spirit was created to direct us toward God, our soul must follow the direction of the spirit, and our body should serve God in the physical realm.  Instead, many humans are led by the desires of their bodies and the passions of their souls, which leads to personal sin.

Personal sin is a willful or ignorant violation of the divine law, the divine order, and it leads to spiritual wounds and to spiritual death.[3] Just as violating the physical laws of gravity or electromagnetism will result in broken bones and electrical burns, in the same way, violating spiritual laws will result in very real wounds, which, however, do not show up on X-ray images.  Often, people know that what they are about to do is wrong, but led by their desires and passions they go against their conscience and do it anyway.  We can liken this to a drug addict, who knows very well that his addiction is killing him, but goes and gets the next fix anyway.  Sometimes, our confused and corrupted nature does not allow us to make the correct choice, and we sin in ignorance.  Unfortunately, just as drinking battery acid without any knowledge of what it is still causes chemical burns, sins committed in ignorance still carry their destructive toll on our spiritual nature.

But what if someone does not see any sins and is convinced that he is not afflicted by this deadly illness?  Indeed, there are some people who are dying of cancer, but refuse to believe that they have it and do not run to the physician.  In the same way, there are those who do not see their spiritual illness and refuse to run to the Divine Physician.  According to Saint Macarius of Egypt, “Those who insist that there is no sin in man are like people who are drowning in a flood but refuse to acknowledge it…  In the same way, these people are drowning in the depths of the waves of corruption, but insist that they are free from sin in their minds and thoughts.”[4] And this brings us to another very important point: only those who see that they are drowning, know that they are dying, realize that they are afflicted—can accept Christ as their Savior Who redeems them from death and heals their illnesses.  Saint Ignatii (Brianchaninov) wrote that, “He who does not realize his own sinfulness, his fall, his own demise—cannot accept Christ, cannot believe in Christ, cannot be a Christian.  He who [sees himself as] smart and virtuous, he who is satisfied with himself, who considers himself worthy of all rewards earthly and heavenly—does not need Christ.”[5] But the hearts of those who understand what Christ does for us are filled with thanksgiving toward our Savior.

Eucharist

The second term we should discuss is Eucharist.  As we mentioned in Lesson 1, the word Eucharist means thanksgiving, but thanks to God can be given in various forms.  We could, for example, just say “thank you”; we could also write a speech or even an ode; or we could erect a monument as a way to show our gratitude.  And we see all of these forms of thanksgiving in church.  Christians build magnificent monuments to honor Christ, our services are filled with beautiful hymns and odes, and our prayers—with words of thanksgiving.  Consider, for example, the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow commissioned in 1812 by Emperor Alexander I “to signify Our gratitude to Divine Providence for saving Russia from the doom that overshadowed Her [the Napoleonic invasion—S.S.],”[6] or the following hymn from the Divine Liturgy: “We praise You, we bless You, we give thanks to You, and we pray to You, Lord our God.”  The Orthodox understanding of the Eucharist, however, while including all of the aforementioned elements, is more specific.

We believe that the Son of God became man, accepted the death of the Cross, and rose on the third day in order to save us, humans.  He gave us a way to put aside our old corrupt nature, which inherited death, and to unite with Him in His resurrected Body, which gives life.  Each one of these concepts will be discussed in more detail in further lessons, but it suffices to say here that the Eucharist is the sacrament of the Body of Christ.  The focal point of the Eucharist is the act of communion—the union with Christ through the consumption of His Body and Blood by the faithful.

If we ask ourselves what the one unique thing that Jesus left to us is, we will quickly realize that He did not leave us a holy book—as far as we know, He did not write anything at all to be passed down to His disciples and to us,[7] He did not leave us some novel teaching—His moral commandments can all be found in the Old Testament which He Himself gave to His people.  But He gave Himself to us—His Body and His Blood: “… Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it He broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is My Body.’ Then He took a cup, and after giving thanks, He gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you; for this is My Blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.’”[8] Now imagine that someone that someone who loves you gives you a gift.  It is not enough to say “thank you, I accept your gift”—you must actually take it.  If you say that you accept the gift, but never actually stretch your arm out, never actually take it—have you really accepted anything?  This is why when Christ offers us His precious Gift, we give thanks—thus, Eucharist—and partake of this Gift by doing exactly as Christ commanded—we take, eat, and drink.

Sacraments

The Eucharist is one of the sacraments of the Church.  In fact, some have referred to it as “the sacrament of sacraments”—the highest sacrament.  But what is a sacrament?  In short, a sacrament is a synergetic act of God and man that has one goal—our salvation.  Some count two sacraments, others—eight, a more common number in the West is seven: baptism, chrismation, communion, repentance, matrimony, unction, and priesthood.  But in essence, there is only one sacrament—the sacrament of our salvation, and any synergetic act of God and man in the context of salvation is sacramental.  Another helpful picture to keep in mind when we discuss sacraments is an image of medicine, which God, the Divine Physician, gives us in order to restore us to health and life.  This image will be very important to us when we discuss the sacrament of the Eucharist in the next lesson, but for now we will limit the scope of our discussion to just two sacramental acts: baptism and repentance.

Baptism

Everyone born of the old Adam inherits corruption and death from him.  Christ became the new Adam for us and allowed us to be born again, not as children of the old Adam, but as children of God.  He took upon Himself our human nature inherited from the old Adam and restored it, sanctified it, and resurrected it to eternal life with God.  And by being in Christ’s Body, we also can have this life.  This is why it is so important to be in Christ’s Body—because there is no life in any other body—not in Paul’s, not in Peter’s, not in mine, and not in yours—only in Christ’s.

Apostle Paul wrote that the Body of Christ is the Church.[9] Baptism is the sacrament by which we enter into the Church, the Body of Christ.  Through the visible sign of immersion into water, we become partakers of the invisible reality[10]—our old corrupted nature is buried and a seed of the new life is planted in us by God.  Here is what the Apostle Paul wrote about the sacrament of baptism:

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death?  Therefore we have been buried with Him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.  For if we have been united with Him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.  We know that our old self was crucified with Him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin.  For whoever has died is freed from sin.  But if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with Him.  We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over Him.  The death He died, He died to sin, once for all; but the life He lives, He lives to God.  So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.[11]

Thus, in baptism, we are freed from the bonds of original sin and enter into the Body of Christ in which is our salvation.  Therefore, a person who is not baptized remains outside the Body of Christ and does not partake of the life of the Body.[12] This is why an unbaptized person cannot participate in the Eucharist—the sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ.  We will discuss this in more detail later.

It is important to remember that baptism is the entrance, but not the final destination; it is the seed, but not the fruit.  Without life according to the commandments of Christ, the seed dies as the one that fell on rocky soil.[13] If the newly-baptized person continues to live according to his old sins and passions, then the divine seed is choked out as the one that fell among thorns.[14] If we sin, we cannot remain in the Body of Christ, which is without sin.  But let us not get despondent—we all fall short, but the all-merciful God gives us ointment to heal our spiritual wounds and to make our baptismal gowns once again white as snow.

Repentance

Repentance is one of the sacraments which God gave us for our salvation.  Repentance is an act of co-laboring with the Creator; the miracle of transforming the old self into new, dirty into clean, ill into whole.  The foundation of the sacrament of repentance is the realization of one’s deadly sinful illness, a clear vision of one’s demise.  Only he who understands that he is ill will run to the Physician; only he who sees that he is perishing will call out to the Savior; and only he who wants to be well will follow the rubrics prescribed by the Physician and take the necessary Medicine.

In repentance, a man separates himself from sin, learns not to be one with it, and begins to understand that he is created in the image of God, but sin is a horrible caricature, corruption, and illness.  Having seen the ugliness of sin, a man turns away from it, opens his wound to the Physician, and begs for healing.  It is in this movement of man toward God—one who is ill to the Source of health—and God toward man—the Physician to one who needs His help—it is in this union of two mutually-directed acts that the sacrament of repentance takes place.

Repentance necessarily includes a sincere desire to turn one’s life away from sin and toward God.  Merely listing one’s sins without any desire to stop committing them and without any steps in that direction can be likened to the bragging of a thief who cheerfully recounts his past crimes while preparing for the next one.

We must daily repent of our sins and ask God for healing.  The evening prayer rule which can be found in any prayer book contains the Daily Confession of Sins—an example of a daily confession before God.  We must make this general confession our own.  We must unite with the words of this prayer in such a way that they come not only from our mouth but also from our heart.  We can and must change the words of the Confession to reflect our own spiritual state and add to it our own “illnesses.”  And it is not necessary to wait until evening to turn to our Heavenly Father with repentance and a plea for help: when you notice a sin, immediately turn your heart to God, repent, and pray for help and healing!

Confession, on the other hand, is an ecclesiastical testimony of personal repentance, a freeing from the burden of sin in accordance with Christ’s commandment,[15] and an opportunity to receive help and support from the Church in our struggle against sin.  One should go to confession not only when preparing for Communion, but also at any other time when it is needed.  Of course, it is impossible to list all of our sins in all their details during a confession.  But this is not necessary.  It is important to understand the essence of the illness and how to treat it, rather than indulge in all the possible manifestations of its symptoms.

Questions for discussion:

1. Can you name any involuntary sins or those committed in ignorance?
2. What is a synergetic act?  Give an example of one.

Further reading

The best works on the effects of sin and repentance are written by the holy ascetics: Abba Dorotheus, John of the Ladder, Macarius of Egypt and others, and also the diaries of John of Kronstadt.

On baptism, it is best to refer to the catechetical writings of the holy hierarchs: John Chrysostom, Gregory the Theologian, Basil the Great, Cyril of Jerusalem, and others.

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[2] Matt. 13:24, 31, 33, 47

[3] We will not discuss in this lesson the effect that sin has in the physical world, including our physical bodies.

[4] Макарий Египетский, преп. Духовные беседы. Христианская жизнь, 2005. С. 155.  Translation from Russian here and elsewhere is mine—S.S.

[5] Игнатий (Брянчанинов), свят. Творения. Т. I-V. СПб., 1905. Т. IV, с. 378.

[6] From the Imperial manifest, 25 December 1812

[7] The Church tradition states that Jesus wrote a letter to king Abgar V of Ephesus.  The texts to which we now have access are widely considered to be a third-century fabrication.  In John 8:7 we also read that Jesus wrote on the ground with His finger.  Neither instance, however, can in any way be considered an attempt by Christ to provide us with a sacred text.

[8] Matt. 26:26-8

[9] Colossians 1:18, 24

[10] Saint Augustine of Hippo defined a sacrament as a visible sign of an invisible reality.

[11] Rom. 6:3-11

[12] One notable exception is the holy martyrs who did not always have an opportunity to be baptized before they suffered martyrdom for Christ.  Their own blood shed for Christ becomes for them as if the waters of their baptism.

[13] Matt. 13:6

[14] Matt. 13:7

[15] Matt. 18:18; John 20:22-3

Lesson 1

Introduction

When we visit different places, if we pay attention, we can usually tell to what purpose a certain place is dedicated, and what different people find most important or interesting.  At a library, we see shelves with books and comfortable chairs with lamps—this place is designed for storing books and allowing people to enjoy reading them.  At a university, we see large rooms with many seats and a lectern in front of them—this place is designed for allowing professors to lecture students.  At a concert hall, we also see many seats and a stage in front of them—this place is designed for allowing musicians to perform for spectators.  And at a friend’s house, we may see posters of a famous actor on every wall—this tells us that our friend likes this actor, finds him interesting, and spends time reading about him and watching his films.  It is much the same with Orthodox Christians: by observing how we build our churches, how we decorate them, and what we do, we can learn a lot about what we see as most important to us, what we are most interested in.  It does not at all mean that we are not interested in anything else—quite the opposite: we enjoy good books, good music, and good films.  But our relationship with our God is more important than all other things put together, and we express our understanding of this relationship in church.

For many of us, going to church on Sunday is the focal point of our encounter with the Orthodox faith; it is the experience that often best expresses our understanding of Orthodoxy.  And when we enter an Orthodox church, if we pay attention, we notice that everything in it is specifically designed for one particular purpose—the service of the Holy Eucharist.  We see a large room called the sanctuary where people gather for the Eucharist, we see the Altar and the Holy Table inside it where the Holy Gifts of the Eucharist are consecrated, we also see people who serve at the Holy Table.  The Eucharist, which is at the heart of the service that we call “the Divine Liturgy,” is the highest expression of the Orthodox faith—it shows what we believe about God’s relationship to us and our relationship to Him.  And because the Eucharist is so important to us, and because it is often the primary way in which we interact with the Orthodox Church, its life, and its teachings, in this course, we shall study the service of the Eucharist—its history, meaning, language, and how it expresses the very foundations of our Orthodox faith.

Questions for discussion:

1. If someone looked at your room or your house, what could they guess about your interests or about what is important to you?
2. Can anyone guess anything about you by the way you are dressed or by the way you act?

Why do we go to church on Sunday?

The question of why we go to church on Sunday consists of two questions: 1) Why do we go to church, and 2) Why on Sunday?  We will try to find the answer to the first question at a later time, but let us now examine the second question: why do we go to church on Sunday and not some other day?

As we read in the Scripture, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ rose from the dead on the “first day of the week.”[1] And those who are in the Body of Christ which is the Church[2] also rise together with Him from the death of sin to eternal life with God.[3] In celebration of this new life, Christians have been gathering together on the first day of the week in order to give thanks to their Savior.  The word Eucharist comes from the Greek word which means thanksgiving.  In the Jewish calendar—our Lord and His Apostles were Jews—the week begins on the day which we now call Sunday.  Thus, from the very beginning of the Church, Christians gathered together on Sunday in order to take part in the Eucharist.[4]

The day on which Christ rose from the dead—the first day of the week—also signifies the first day of the New Covenant established between God and us.  It is the first day of the new world, in which sin and death no longer have power over people, because Christ conquered both; and in His Body, the Church, we also can be free from the bondage of sin and death.   This is why Sunday is so important to us, and this is why we devote this day to God and give thanks to Him—take part in the Eucharist.

Early Christians even chose to call this day the Lord’s Day instead of Sun Day.  In Russian, we call this day the Resurrection Day, and in Slavonic we say the No-Work Day in order to remind us that on this day, our earthly cares must be laid aside because our Lord is calling us to come to His house.

Of course, we can thank God on any other day of the week as well.  If fact, very soon after the Church was established, Christians began to celebrate the Eucharist every time they came together to commemorate the life of a saint or an event from the life of Christ.  Those were the origins of the Church holidays which we celebrate.  Nowadays, in most parishes, we celebrate the Eucharist on Sundays and on major Church holidays, and in monasteries, divine services may be celebrated almost every day.  In later lessons, we will learn about various other services of the Orthodox Church and how they relate to the most important one—the Eucharist.

Questions for discussion:

1. How do Christians honor the day of Christ’s resurrection?
2. If for some reason you cannot come to church, what do you usually do on Sunday morning?

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[2] See Eph. 5:23 and Col. 1:24

[3] Rom. 6:4

[4] See, for example, Acts 20:7, also Didache 14 and Justin Martyr, First Apology 67 (ca. 160).

All-Merciful Saviour Monastery, Vashon Island, WA

Those who are lucky enough to call this monastery their home parish, and those who came here from other cities and towns in order to partake of the sanctity of this holy place—I greet you with the Feast of the All-Merciful Saviour and His Most Holy Mother.

On this day, we celebrate several memorable events from history.  166 years before the birth of Christ, the Maccabee brothers and their father suffered martyrdom at the hands of pagan occupants who had forbidden the worship of the true God in Judea and instituted the worship of Hellenic idols.  Through their refusal to worship idols, the Maccabees started a revolt which restored the religion given to the Jews through the Law.  The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob blessed and sanctified the labors and sacrifices of the holy Maccabees, and the worship of the true God continued in Judea until the incarnation of His only-begotten Son.

On this day in 988, the All-Merciful Saviour crowned the labors of Saints Cyrill and Methodius, who in the ninth century were sent from Constantinople as missionaries to the Slavs, with the baptism of Russia, when Saint Vladimir of Kiev looked upon his family and his people being baptized in the river Dnieper and prayed that they would come to know the true God.  And the true God blessed and sanctified the labors of the Equal-to-the-Apostles Vladimir, which then were only beginning.  If we speak of the Holy Russia, undoubtedly it was such through the prayers and labors of its Baptist.

Almost two hundred years later, in 1164, the year that Saint Olaf of Norway was canonized, Saints Andrei Bogolyubski in Russia and Manuel Komnenos in the Byzantine Empire found themselves fighting against Muslim armies.  Both Christian armies marched under the banners depicting the face of Christ, and both had miracle-working icons of the Theotokos in their midst.  During the battles, God revealed many signs to inspire the soldiers, including rays of light coming from the banners.  The Lord blessed and sanctified the labors and sacrifices of the soldiers, and granted them victory over their enemies.  When Saint Andrei wrote to Saint Manuel about the miraculous victory, and the Emperor wrote back with a similar account, both rulers glorified the All-Merciful Savior and instituted the feast which we celebrate today.

But it is not only for its historical significance that the Church celebrates this day.  The Church does not build memorials to by-gone events and tombstones to dead people.  Everything that the Church offers to us has relevance in the present.  We rejoice in the living God, Who continues to bless and sanctify the labors of all who devote their lives to Him.  Whether you are a missionary or an emperor, a monastic or a person who lives in the world, a beekeeper or a gardener, a computer programmer or an auto mechanic—when you labor for the glory of God, He accepts the fruits of your labors, blesses them, and sanctifies them.

As a visible sign of God’s abundant blessing, the Holy Church blesses honey on this day; and on the Feast of Transfiguration, we bless fruit.  Honey—because its taste and fragrance remind us of the sweetness of the future life.  Fruit—because it reminds us of the bounty of the Garden of Eden, which we lost by bearing the fruit of disobedience.  But the Church wants us to think not only of the past and the future, but also of the present.  Whether we keep bees or grow apples in our own back yard, build monasteries or empires—all must be done for the glory of God, and all our labors must be dedicated to Him, and our fruits brought to His feet; because all is His, and we are only custodians of that which God entrusts to us.

A life worth living is a life given to God, because without God there is only corruption (Matt. 6:19); out of dust we were made, and without God we die and return to our dust (Ps. 104:29).  Only he who loses his life for the sake of Christ (Matt. 10:39), that is to say, gives it to Christ, will have life, because in God is life (John 1:4).

So, let us not shortchange ourselves, chasing after the world’s masks and props, which today seem alive and real, but tomorrow are thrown into the fire (1 Cor. 3:13).  Let us not settle for corruption and death, but strive for life, life abundant (John 10:10), which is in Christ.  And let us not settle for the shadowy treasures of this world, which are eaten by moth and rust (Matt. 6:19), but labor for the glory of God and for the benefit of the least of the people for whom Christ shed His Blood (Matt. 25:40).  And as we look at the fruits of our labors—whether it be honey or apples, well-raised children or an honestly done job, a house in which people will live or a monastery that will shine for them as a beacon of spiritual light—as we look at our harvest which comes from God and is blessed and sanctified by Him, let us live our lives in such a way that the Lord will say about us, His people: “…lift up your eyes, and see how the fields are already white for harvest” (John 4:35).  Let us be His wheat which dies to the world with its passions and desires (Gal. 5:24), and rises up unto eternal life with Christ (Rom. 6:8).

A talk given at the celebration in the Western American Diocese on 2 August 2003, Monterey, California

One of the organizers of the celebration of the glorification of Saint Seraphim of Sarov was a Russian patriot, General Vladimir Feodorovich von der Launitz, governor of Tambov in 1903. The General devoted his whole life to serving the Tsar and his Fatherland, and was eventually killed by a terrorist revolutionary while leaving a church. When he was asked how such a grand ecclesiastical celebration as the glorification of a saint can be organized, Vladimir Feodorovich crossed himself with a sweeping motion and responded, “Saint Seraphim will help!” These words of the Russian nobleman of an ancient boyar family were meant to express that which united over three hundred thousand people gathered from all corners of Russia in the Sarov monastery in July 1903: the hope with which the faithful turn to the God-pleasing saint for almost two centuries now, beseeching him for prayers and intercession before the Lord.

Even during the temporal life of the elder, a variety of people streamed to see him: government figures and peasants, merchants and soldiers, the rich and the poor, the old and the young–and every one of them was greeted by Saint Seraphim with the words “My joy, Christ is risen!”; and each was consoled, given guidance, teaching, or healing of physical ailments and spiritual ills. Every one of them took with them in their hearts a part of his spiritual wisdom, passing on his words from mouth to mouth.

What was so special that these people found in the warm-hearted Seraphim? Our contemporary, Valentina Dmitrievna Sologub, an Orthodox journalist, wrote that every epoch “expresses its own holiness, the Lord reveals the saint that is most needed by the people. Some saints are examples of humility–others of prayer and serving the needy; some heal, others teach the endurance of suffering…” Saint Seraphim, the great laborer-for-God and example of spiritual struggle, shone brightly in the rays of Divine light, and this light was seen by many.

Saint Seraphim spent some forty years in fasting, seclusion, solitary living, labors of silence and nocturnal prayer, piously studying the Word of God, Scripture and the Lives of Saints before the doors of his poor cell were opened to visitors. During this whole time, Saint Seraphim strove to only one goal–to acquire the Holy Spirit, which he attested to in words spoken to the novice John Tikhonov: “My joy! I beseech you, acquire the spirit of peace, then thousands around you will be saved!”

Prokhor Isidorovich Moshnin, later to become Saint Seraphim of Sarov, was born in July 1759 in the city of Kursk. His parents were famed for their care for God’s temples and tending to the needy and misfortunate. The special intercession of the Queen of Heaven on behalf of Prokhor was expressed while he was still a child. Prokhor, in return, came to love the reading of the Bible and other religious books at an early age.

Prokhor’s elder brother, Aleksei, was a merchant and owned a store in Kursk. The young Prokhor was also taught business in the shop. But his heart lay far away from all earthly matters, and he gathered his treasure where “no worm abides, no corruption decays, no thieves can steal.” And so, at the age of seventeen, after a pilgrimage to the relics of the first Russian monastics, Saints Anthony and Feodosii of Kiev of the Caves, Prokhor was accepted as a novice in the Sarov Monastery.

Prokhor humbly and earnestly observed the monastic rules and obediences. Prokhor spent seven years as a novice. After exhaustive examination, the abbot of the monastery interceded before the Church authorities to tonsure him as a monk. Prokhor was elevated to the angelic order with the name of Seraphim, meaning “the fiery one,” for they saw in him an earthly angel and a man of heaven, and saw in his heart a burning love for the Lord. This fire, which was to warm thousands of souls, gave Father Seraphim the strength to rise ever higher along the ladder of spiritual struggle, and the Lord strengthened his zeal with divine revelations.  The purity of heart, restraint, constant striving of his soul to God created in Father Seraphim a man capable of seeing the invisible world. Protecting himself with humility, he rose from one level of spiritual power to another.

Only a few of Saint Seraphim’s spiritual labors are known. Many were performed in seclusion, hidden from the eyes of men, visible only to God. Saint Seraphim did not carelessly assume the most difficult labors, but acted wisely and only with the blessing of the abbot, under whom he was in the humblest obedience.

Spending his life in solitude, labor, reading and prayer, fasting and restraint, Father Seraphim gradually added strict seclusion and silence. Only after long struggles of the greatest self-denial, a burden no emulator of the Saint could bear, the Lord opened the cell of the elder and showed the world a lantern, the likes of which, when lit, is not hidden but placed in full view for the multitudes. Even the face of the saint emanated a wondrous light, impossible to behold for its brightness, according to the same Novice John.

The Lord glorified His righteous one with the gift of miracle-working. As during the life of the holy elder, through his prayers, the Lord opened the eyes of the blind, healed the lame and sick, saved those in need, cast out demons, so after his blessed repose, those who turn to him receive speedy intercession and blessed aid.

No less is Saint Seraphim known for the gift of clairvoyance. Rising with his spiritual gaze to the heavenly abodes, the vision of the saint pierced the hidden fates of both individual persons and of Russia herself. “Preserve yourself through silence!” warned Father Seraphim, and showed a peasant where to find a lost cow. Preserving himself through silence, the saint wrote a letter, from which, seventy years later, Royal Martyr Tsar Nicholas II learned of the terrible fate awaiting Russia and the Dynasty.

The living link between Saint Seraphim and the Royal Family is instructive for all for whom the fate of Russia is important. In accordance with some witnesses, during the life of the saint, the Most August ancestor of the Tsar-Martyr, Emperor Alexander I, visited the elder.   In 1903, through the initiative of His Imperial Highness, Emperor Nicholas II, the life and works of the Saint were glorified, and his relics were placed in a splendid crypt commissioned by the pious Tsar.

Father Seraphim was not alone in his reverence for the God-given royal throne and the Anointed of God, but directed others to this saving path. Often during discussions with the judge of Simbir, Nikolai Aleksandrovich Motoviloff, the saint explained “how the Tsar must be served and how we must treasure his life,” recalling David’s warrior chief, Abishai, who said “Of us you have many, Master, but we have only you. If we are all slain, yet you remain alive, then Israel is whole. If you are no more, what is to become of Israel?” What happened to Russia when she murdered her Tsar is known to all.  When speaking of Christian deeds, Saint Seraphim noted that “after Orthodoxy, [the fervor and zeal of the subjects for the Tsar] is the first duty of us Russians, and the main foundation of true Christian piety.”

Father Seraphim wrote a letter to the Tsar who many years later would glorify him; he sealed the letter with soft bread and gave it to Motoviloff for safekeeping with the words: “You will not live to see it, but your wife will, when in Diveevo [Monastery] the whole Royal Family will arrive, and the Tsary will come. Let her give this to him.” Having received this letter in 1903 and read it, “the Tsar wept inconsolably.”

Saint Seraphim had foreseen the Russian revolution, and rivers of blood, and the destruction and desecration of churches, and the moral decline of bishops. But he saw also the renaissance of a great Russia. “Not until the end,” said the saint, “will the Lord be wrathful and allow the complete destruction of the Russian Land…” “We have the Orthodox Church without any stain, and because of this Russia will always be famed and fearsome and inconquerable to her enemies, having faith and piety–the gates of hell shall not prevail.”

As we see, the salvation and resurrection of Russia was seen by the saint specifically in the Orthodox faith. Our obligation is not only to rejoice over the stream of people who rushed in the late 80′s and early 90′s to the churches of Russia; not only to support with all our might this blessed process of rebirth and healing of our Fatherland; but also to preserve the purity of Orthodoxy ourselves and to rear our children in its spirit. The words of Saint Seraphim apply not only to his contemporaries almost two centuries ago, but to us as well: “We, living on earth, have strayed far from the path of salvation; we incur the wrath of the Lord also with the failure to observe the holy fasts; now Christians eat meat during the holy Great Lent and other fasts, Wednesdays and Friday fasts are not observed; but the Church has a law: those who do not observe the holy fasts and Wednesdays and Fridays sin greatly.” If we are not faithful to our Church even in the small things, what more can we hope for?

Celebrating today the hundredth anniversary of the glorification of Saint Seraphim, it is worth remembering that the procession which traveled in 1903 from Diveevo to Sarov, in the prophecy of Saint Seraphim, will return from Sarov to Diveevo, and the wondrous elder, reposing now with the sleep of the Seven Youths of Ephesus, will arise once more and preach repentance. “The town of Diveevo, having become a world-wide home of faith, will shine brighter than all others, not only Russian, but all the cities of the world–for the light of faith in Christ through this resurrection from the dead of the Great Elder Seraphim will be established in the whole world. Then all will avidly turn to all the well-springs of Orthodoxy to learn of the origin and path of this wonder of history.”

There is still some time, let us repent, let us struggle, let us convert those around us to the holy faith of Orthodoxy through example. And how are we to manage such a great task? Saint Seraphim will help!

The problem is in the fact that Rauschenbusch’s historical analysis turns Jesus into a failed Jewish revolutionary, and the Church into a piece of corrupted machinery with aimlessly spinning wheels (587-8).  Of course, Rauschenbusch curtseys to the traditional notions of Christ’s divinity in the opening paragraph of the essay, but immediately announces His losing in the “great spiritual duel … between him and the representatives of organized religion” (586).  As such, however, neither Jesus nor His Church can serve as a foundation for anything, except perhaps something like Vladimir Lenin’s “we will follow a different path.”[1]

I

Rauschenbusch sees Jesus as concerned with the “present good of men” and the kingdom of God as “the perfect social order” (587); and nothing in his essay suggests that this view is not exclusive.  Rauschenbusch quite obviously misinterprets his evidence to arrive at these conclusions, which indicates an ideological, rather than a scholarly approach.  For example, Rauschenbusch begins to build his argument on the premise that the God of the Old Testament wants just one fundamental thing—“righteousness in social and political life … and wants nothing else” (587).  What naturally results from this assertion is that all religious observances and rituals are not only unnecessary, but counterproductive.  Rauschenbusch dismisses everything—from Jewish religious clothing, to daily prayers, and from fasting to giving toward the support of the Temple—as obstacles to fulfilling what he calls “the fundamental obligations, … such as filial reverence and family solidarity” (ibid.).  It is a wonder that Rauschenbusch does not end his essay with “Proletarier aller Länder, vereinigt euch!”

According to Rauschenbusch, “other reformers have condemned religious practices because they were departures from the holy Book or from primitive custom” (ibid.), and he firmly places Jesus in this pleiad of reformers (apparently, referring to the Old Testament prophets).  Rauschenbusch’s Jesus, however, went even further as “he judged current religious questions” not by the standard of “ancient authority, but the present good of men” (ibid.).  Of course, it is not surprising that Rauschenbusch’s Jesus was a Protestant; wasn’t Peter the first Roman Catholic Pope?  Rauschenbusch’s Jesus protested against the Temple, its religious practices, daily prayer and fasting, and earned Himself the title of a reformer, much like the leaders of the Protestant Reformation.  People have always fitted Jesus to their needs, often against good logic or even common sense.

First, it is not at all clear what “holy Book” and “primitive custom” Rauschenbusch has in mind.  Is it the very “holy Book” which tells how Jehovah set explicit mandates for the Temple worship, hierarchy, prayers, fasting, ritual baths, and other religious practices?  And what “primitive custom” does Rauschenbusch find so appealing?  Erecting piles of rocks and cutting animals’ throats?  Rauschenbusch’s argument that “if men were deeply concerned about the taboo foods that went into their bodies, they would not be concerned about the evil thoughts that arose in their souls” (ibid.) is not different at its core from the reverse: “if men devour every kind of food without discretion and in large amounts (as 75% of adults in the U.S. are projected to be overweight by 2015[2]) they too will not be concerned about the evil thought that arise in their souls.  In fact, a man who cannot control his own belly is, perhaps, less likely to learn to control his thoughts than the one who learns self-control through fasting.  But this is beside the point, because taking Rauschenbusch’s argument to its logical conclusion, it must be noted that a man who concerns himself with evil thoughts that arise in his soul, will not be concerned with matters of social and political life.  Of course, it is easy enough to see that this logic is quite flawed; and men that led successful social and political lives also exhibited a measure of self-control in their souls and bodies (Mahatma Gandhi comes to mind).  Not to even mention the numerous instances of Jesus attending the synagogue, praying, fasting, and fulfilling the other religious obligations of His time…

II

Quite naturally, the next argument that Rauschenbusch brings up is the corruption of the Church—a prominent theme in Protestantism that has also been employed by the neo-Protestants against their Protestant forerunners.  It may be assumed that in Rauschenbusch’s opinion the corruption of the Church began almost immediately after Christ’s ascension, or certainly by the third or fourth century.  Rauschenbusch decries “the annual expense of maintaining the churches in the United States,” “the capital invested in church buildings,” and the “care, interest, and loving free-will labor … [that an] average village community bestow[s] on religion” (588).  Rauschenbusch implies that the church (or churches?) has “become an expensive consumer of social wealth, a conservative clog, and a real hindrance of social progress” (ibid.).

It is impossible to know whether Rauschenbusch is advocating dismantling church buildings and ending his own stipend as a Baptist minister.  On its face, such seems to be the call, but it is more likely to be a rhetorical device that is not meant to be a call for any real action.  Certainly, evicting people from the single-family homes they own and placing them in communal quarters would be a better distribution of social wealth.  With the notable exception of such experiments as the United Workers Cooperative Colony (the Coops), such calls fall on deaf ears, and Rauschenbusch was hardly worried about losing his stipend and joining the proletariat.  But such remarks certainly reveal a crisis in Protestant ecclesiology.

For Rauschenbusch, “religion is a bond of social coherence” (589).  In the absence of the sacramental view on ecclesiology, the Church becomes a movement, a social construct that falls apart if not supported by a social ideology.  The eschatological task of the Church, in the view of Rauschenbusch and other Social Gospel proponents, is the building of the kingdom of God on earth, a possibility that is supported by Western soteriology, which is shared by both Roman Catholics and Protestants in the sense that both are mechanical, rather than organic in nature.  Rauschenbusch does not hesitate to place his religion at the service of the ever-changing socio-political trends.  He writes that “it must be geared to the big live issues of today if it is to manifest its full saving energies” (ibid.).  And the big issue in Rauschenbusch’s day was what he calls “solidaristic organization” (ibid.).

III

This is not a question of making religion relevant; rather, this is a matter of Rauschenbusch’s inability to find any use for it whatsoever, unless it helps make “progress toward a just social order” (590).  All matters of faith are dismissed as “antiquated observances,” “dwarfed systems of truth,” “lost cause in religion,” and “relics” (589).  Clearly, Rauschenbusch has little use or tolerance for what has been traditionally understood as religious life and faith.  Any divisions among the various Protestant denominations are seen as social, not creedal:

Our denominational divisions are nearly all an historical heritage, imported from Europe, and coming down from a controversial age.  Their issues all meant something vital and socially important in the midst of the social order of that day; but in many cases the real significance has quietly crumbled away, and they are not really the same issues that deeply engaged our forefathers. (591)

In this deeply insightful comment, Rauschenbusch reveals the sacramental, theological, and historical emptiness of his tradition (if the word “tradition” is even applicable in this case).  This is a very honest observation of the state of affairs.  The tradition to which Rauschenbusch belongs rejects any notion of the sacramental significance of the Church, preserving just a few symbols, whose meanings are dubious at best, as they rest on a version of “because Jesus said so.”  Having rejected the heritage of patristic thought in favor of literal solo scriptura and later historical criticism, Rauschenbusch’s tradition found itself generating a multitude of opinions, all of which necessarily have to be presumed valid as products of private insights and revelations.  Any challenge to these opinions on the basis of logic, the tradition of the Church, or even theological consensus, is impossible and meaningless.  Finally, if the Church is declared to have been corrupt from its earliest years and through the Reformation, then any notion of historical continuity is useless, and Rauschenbusch can build anew, without any regard for the Church which was established by Christ Himself, and against which the gates of hell will not prevail (Matt. 16:18).  After all if Christianity is a social ideology, then it can be changed, reinterpreted, adopted, applied in any way by any group strong enough to apply it—without any regard for the religion itself.  Fundamentally, there appears to be little difference between the version of Christianity offered by Rauschenbusch and the atheist social philosophies of the late-nineteenth-early-twentieth centuries.

*          *          *

A century of Social Gospel has shown this theory hard at work, morphing Christianity to fit the socio-political environment.  In Latin America, Liberation theologians have used the Gospel to justify their support for militant organizations employing terrorist tactics.  After all, if the end is the building of the kingdom of God on earth, then what means couldn’t be justified?  In the United States, it was deemed necessary to justify materialism and consumption, so the Prosperity Gospel reared its ugly head.  Both of these exaggerations, however, appear to have just as much validity as does Rauschenbusch’s version, if the only criterion of truth is a personal interpretation of the Scripture by the one who readeth.  And thus, Western Christianity often and perhaps intentionally resembles the face it sees in the mirror, rather than that of Christ.  May this be the reason why our attempts to build the kingdom of heaven on earth have always fallen short of their mark?  Of old, God stopped our attempt to build a tower that reaches to the heavens (Gen. 11:1-8).  Will He be so merciful again?

*          *          *

Rauschenbusch, Walter. “The Social Principles of Jesus.” Pelikan, Jaroslav. The World Treasury of Modern Religious Thought. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1990. 586-92.

[1] The words that Lenin reportedly said after learning that his older brother Alexander had been hung for a failed terrorist attack on the Tsar.

[2] Wang, Youfa; Beydoun, May A (2007), “The obesity epidemic in the United States—gender, age, socioeconomic, racial/ethnic, and geographic characteristics: a systematic review and meta-regression analysis”, Epidemiologic Reviews (Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health), doi:doi:10.1093/epirev/mxm007

A very similar process appears to have been restarted in the West, as post-Reformation Christendom fell apart into various creeds and theologumena.  And just as fitting definitions were sometimes elusive in antiquity, the language employed by modern thinkers is sometimes marked by a lack of clarity.  Apart from the issue of inclusivity—a type of thinking that purposefully avoids rigid definitions on the basis that someone is sure to disagree—some modern Christian theology often lacks definitions as if unintentionally.  Perhaps, this murkiness is due to a more intuitive understanding of faith that does not rely on reason as heavily as did the medieval scholastics.  More likely, however, this is due to a more simplistic approach to faith, rejection of the old dogmas, and a renewed process of finding “new and improved” definitions.  In this sense, in the last four hundred years Western Christian thought has been going through a process of discovering its own beliefs not unlike that of the first five centuries of Christendom.  Whether this is an ascent on the eternal spiral of human self-discovery, or the West’s attempt at reinventing the wheel is a topic for a different paper.  It suffices to say here that while some of the ideas born by modern Christian theologians do excite the taste with their freshness, many others fail to find their way out of the graveyard of ancient heresies.

*

Mulder: I want to believe.

(“X-Files: Conduit” [Season 1, episode 3, 1993])

A fascinating example of such lack of clarity of thought can be found in the writings of William James (1842-1910), an American psychologist, philosopher, and theologian, and a Gifford Lecturer.  Of course, James represents a type of theologian quite different from the Great Cappadocians or the Scholastics.  Nonetheless, through his lectures titled The Varieties of Religious Experience delivered at the University of Edinburgh in 1900-02, James finds himself influencing modern Western religious thought alongside Karl Barth (Gifford Lecturer in 1936-38), Paul Tillich (1953-54), and Rudolf Bultmann (1954-55), to name only a few.

In his lecture The Will to Believe published in 1897, James attempts a rather convoluted way of violating the principles of Evidentialism in order to justify the otherwise-unjustifiable belief in God.  James’ mental contraption involves first treating the belief in God as a hypothesis, observing the emotional consequences of such an allowance, and then graduating the hypothesis into a legitimate belief based on the observed evidence proving the hypothesis’ truth.

While examining The Will to Believe doctrine in detail is not our intent, it nonetheless shows the core concern of some strands of Western thought—individual gratification above any notion of objective truth.  One’s beliefs are justified based merely on a positive emotional response that one gets from the act of believing.  Besides the obvious conundrum that in this system a belief in God is placed on the same level with a belief in the Jedi Force—both are capable of evoking positive emotions—and is therefore divorced from any notion of ontological truth, The Will to Believe doctrine has basic logical flaws that earned it a mock-name “The Wish to Believe.”  If one merely hypothesizes about the existence of God, such a hypothesis is not yet a belief and any emotional or empirical evidence that supports this hypothesis is not produced by a belief, but by a wish to believe, thus placing the entire machination into the realm of the subjective experience of the human mind, not communion with the living God.  And as such, any evidence produced by the mind in response to its wishes cannot be used to violate the principles of Evidentialism.

Such questionable logic is also employed in James’ presentation of his doctrine.  Laying the preliminary foundation, the Harvard professor asks his students:

Can we, by just willing it, believe that Abraham Lincoln’s existence is a myth, and that the portraits of him in McClure’s Magazine are all of some one else?  Can we, by any effort of our will, or by any strength of wish that it were true, believe ourselves well and about when we are roaring with rheumatism in bed, or feel certain that the sum of the two one-dollar bills in our pocket must be a hundred dollars?  We can say any of these things, but we are absolutely impotent to believe them… (97)

As convincing as these examples may appear at first glance, they are, nonetheless, flawed.  Of course, it is not the examples themselves that are of importance, but the fact that they are used as building blocks for James’ argumentation.  First, the examples are not of equal value: by the time James was addressing his audience in 1897, Lincoln had been dead for over two decades.  Unless one had had personal encounters with the sixteenth President of the United States, any belief in his existence would necessarily have been based on trust in the experience of others—whether an acquaintance or a reporter for the McClure’s Magazine. A belief in Lincoln’s existence, in this respect, is similar to a belief in the supposed fact that the Earth is round: most people can clearly see that the Earth is flat and have to trust someone else’s report that it is round; most people present at James’ lecture clearly could not see Lincoln in the classroom among them and had to trust others that his existence was not a myth.  As such, a belief based on trust is not always self-evident, and a fellow American, William Carpenter, who had died only a year before James’ lecture, published a booklet in 1885 titled One Hundred Proofs that the Earth Is Not a Globe, which incidentally was dedicated to Richard A. Proctor, a famous English astronomer.

“Roaring with rheumatism in bed,” on the other hand, is hardly a matter of trusting someone else’s account of our physiological condition.  However, being one of the founders of psychology as a science, James was well aware of the power of the mind and the effect that autosuggestion can have on our bodies.  An ill person may believe himself to be well, which may even help him get well, reports of which occurrences had been in just as wide a circulation as the reports of encounters with ghosts that James used in his scholarship.  On the other hand, a person who has no illness may believe that he is sick, which just might bring about some malady, or at least a very real experience of illness.

Moreover, patristic thought, in which James was also well-versed, speaks of people being sick with the illness of sin, and not believing in this fact, despite overwhelming evidence.  People believe themselves to be well, which makes it impossible for them to accept Christ as the Saviour—they do not believe that they need to be saved from anything.  Even more striking, many people live as if they will never die, despite strong evidence that the death rate among humans is near one hundred percent.  Clearly living with a terminal illness called “life,” many humans nonetheless believe themselves to be well, do not think about death, and seem to live in oblivion.

Finally, the last small example that James employs is probably the best for what he hopes to show.  Although 1+1 does not always equal 2, conventional arithmetic is used in the modern financial system (some “creative accounting practices” notwithstanding), and after handing two one-dollar bills to a grocer, James would be likely to get only about two dollars worth of groceries, quite regardless of what he chooses to believe.  This evidentiary truth, however, is irrelevant to the method that James proposes, since it is not only impossible to believe that the sum of two one-dollar bills is one hundred, but it is equally as ridiculous to propose a hypothesis to this effect, to see whether one might feel better about his financial situation or not.  In the words of James himself, such a hypothesis would be dead (96)—not because 1+1 cannot equal 100 in any known version of arithmetic, but because James is putting the cart before the horse.  An adult knows this hypothesis to be false because he already possesses previously obtained evidence to the contrary.  A child who does not already possess such evidence, on the other hand, may be easily convinced that 1+1 is anything one (including the child himself) wishes to falsely propose.  Those charged with educating children are well aware of this phenomenon.

Here we must pay attention to the fact that this lecture is not a transcript of a speech but a written essay that was delivered as a lecture at Harvard and subsequently published.  Perhaps, James’ students did not mind so much certain sloppiness in their professor’s argumentation, but here is another illustration of the same:

If I ask you to believe in the Mahdi, the notion makes no electric connection with your nature,—it refuses to scintillate with any credibility at all.  As an hypothesis it is completely dead. (96)

Indeed, a modern American of Anglo-Saxon lineage may find no electric connection in the word “Mahdi.”  However, some may not connect with the word “Moshiach” either.  Of course, some will immediately recognize that “Moshiach” is an anglicized version of the Hebrew Mašíaḥ or Messiah.  Likewise, some will also recognize that Mahdi, or the “Guided One,” is a prophet who, according to Islamic eschatology, will come before the “Day of the Resurrection.”  So, let us replace the Arabic “Mahdi” with its English equivalent:

If I ask you to believe in the [prophet who will come before the Day of the Resurrection], the notion makes no electric connection with your nature…

Why, this is hardly so!  Many a Christian would be quite inclined to accept a hypothesis that a prophet will come before the eschatological end.  In other words, James’ example is based on nothing more than manipulations with a foreign word.  If we ask the reader to believe that Вашингтон was the first president of the United States, there may indeed be a lack of electricity in the air, until we reveal an “inconvenient truth” that Вашингтон is Russian for “Washington.”  Now sparks will fly!  The only thing this proves, we are afraid, is that James’ students may not have been versed in Islamic eschatology,—not exactly the point that James appears to be making.

There is another possibility: in the second half of the nineteenth century, three men claimed to have been Mahdi—a fact of which both James and his students probably were aware.  Báb in 1844, Muhammad Ahmad in 1882, and Mirza Ghulam Ahmad around 1889—all claimed to have been the Mahdi.  Perhaps James meant to propose to his students a hypothesis that Muhammad Ahmad was the prophet?  It may be impossible to know for sure, but a hypothesis that specifically Ahmad was the prophet would be less alive than the general hypothesis that a prophet had appeared in the Middle East.  Although, to our taste, both are much more alive than any hypothesis that a prophet by the name of Joseph Smith had appeared in Pennsylvania, or that a prophet’s name was Ellen G. White.

Having rejected the hypothesis of a prophet in the Middle East as dead to his audience, James asserts that “to an Arab … the hypothesis is among the mind’s possibilities: it is alive.  This follows,” James continues, “that deadness or liveness in an hypothesis are not intrinsic properties, but relations to an individual thinker” (96).  Yet again we are presented with the mixing of categories in James’ thought process: the primary difference between white Americans and Arabs (or any other two groups of people) is cultural and social, rather than strictly and specifically individual.  Thus, if we were to speak of Americans generally rejecting the proposal to believe in the Mahdi, and Arabs generally being more open to such a proposal, then deadliness and liveness are not related to an individual thinker, but to an entire group of thinkers who are bound by the same culture, worldview, and faith.

One may note—quite correctly—that we have been splitting hairs in our treatment of James.  Yes, we have; but we must also remember that we are working with an academic presentation of a doctrine by an Ivy-League professor, which fact hardly makes such treatment of the work unwarranted.  It must also be noted that thus far we have only looked at James’ preliminary or preparatory arguments, without actually examining his doctrine.  But if such is the foundation that he is building (too much sand and not enough cement, we think), then is James’ hypothesis to us dead or alive?

*          *

In some ways, what James actually has to say is quite irrelevant in a truly religious context.  Unlike philosophy which seems to arrive at the idea of God through rational contemplation and in which framework a hypothesis-evidence-belief process can serve a useful purpose, religion (at least, Christianity) places evidence primary to belief.  The myrrh-bearers did not hypothesize that Christ was risen to test their emotional response.  Apparently, such a hypothesis was quite dead to them, in both its literal and figurative senses.  They came looking for a dead man, but found an empty tomb.  The hypothesis of Christ’s resurrection was also dead for Saul who was persecuting those for whom the hypothesis was alive (by the way, not Arabs, but fellow Jews).  Yet later Paul said: “I know whom I have believed” (2 Tim. 1:12), perhaps pointing to knowledge coming before belief.  Of course, not everyone who believes in Christ was blinded on the road to Damascus, but neither do most Christians overly concern themselves with testing out various hypotheses before believing (and in our view—regretfully so).

Much as the proposal that the Earth is a globe, Christian faith is usually accepted on the authority in the reports of those whom we trust.  In the most immediate sense, it is our parents, or perhaps pastors; but in the original sense, it is the saints, beginning with the Apostles, whose experience we trust as authoritative.  That experience, which we are all too often too lazy to replicate in our own lives, serves to us as the evidence necessary for our faith.  It is to the Gospel stories and to the lives of the saints of the Church (at least, in traditional Christianity) that we often turn for support when doubt begins to corrupt our belief.  And as with any set of data, it is important to consider the source.  For example, if we put our trust in the authority of Saint Teresa of Avila and other Western ecstatics, we might view theogamy (in the Merezhkovskian sense of the word) as an acceptable path of Christian mysticism.  On the other hand, turning to the authority of the Eastern Christian mystics, one would be compelled to reject theogamy (again, in the Merezhkovskian sense) as an unacceptable practice and to pursue other mystical experiences.

All of these distinctions, though quite pronounced in many well-known Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox works on this topic, get almost completely muddled in James’ Gifford lectures on religious mysticism.  This, we must concede, is not completely unwarranted.  James is covering extremely large areas of human experience, jumping over centuries and millennia, and leaping across continents.  Undoubtedly, James is well-aware of these limitations (see, for example, his laments about Catholic mysticism [357]), as well as of the fact that his treatment of mysticism is almost academic,—he admits to having a constitution that prevents him from enjoying mystical states of consciousness (332).

This passing remark linking the very possibility of mystical experiences to one’s physique and temperament (for such seems to be the definition of the word “constitution”), concocted with James’ definition of mystical states of consciousness as he presents it in his lectures, create a view of religious mysticism with which we cannot agree.  James defines mystical states of consciousness as those that have the following characteristics: ineffability, noetic quality, transiency, and passivity (333-4).  All of these concepts are purely subjective, and James applies them quite loosely.  What is missing is any relation to anything religious.  A belief in anything above the top of one’s head (or below one’s feet) is not at all required in order to have an ineffably noetic transient experience that is loosely passive.  And it does indeed somewhat depend on one’s constitution whether that person is able or willing to follow through with such “mysticism.”

Any distinction between truly religious experiences and those produced by one’s imagination or even in a state of intoxication are completely absent in James’ analysis of the phenomenon.  In part, this lack of clarity may be due to the overwhelming lack of clarity in the entire corpus of James’ Gifford Lectures.  If “religion” is defined as “that” (41), does it make any difference that “that” is not even mentioned among the defining characteristics of the phenomenon in which James sees “the root and centre” of “personal religious experience” (332)?  Would it make any difference if “that” were mentioned?

Under James’ definition, the possibility of having an ineffable, noetic, transient, passive experience, which can thus be classified as mystical, cannot be denied an atheist, not to mention an agnostic.  It is at best unclear then just what would make such an experience be worthy of taking its place among the Varieties of Religious Experience.  Moreover, an American highschooler experimenting with lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD), Saint Teresa in her Trasverberatio, and Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus—all, in James’ account, are having the same experience (mystical state of consciousness).  Undoubtedly, all are indeed experiencing many similar states: all are living and breathing and all are humans in a state of consciousness.  But to make no differentiation between entheogens (nitrous oxide in James’ lectures [339]), a self-induced orgasmic ecstatic trance, and what appears to be a genuine apparition, or at the least not to address the issue, is either an extreme case of a relativistic bias based on the supremacy of the subjective personal experience—the one factor that is present in all human experience of any kind—or James is exhibiting a desire to treat mysticism as a psychological issue, devoid of any religious properties.

To be sure, James is well-aware of the trademarks that can be used in analyzing mystical experiences.  He writes, for example, that mystical experiences in Yoga are achieved through “diet, posture, breathing, intellectual concentration, and moral discipline” (351)—ways that take time and effort, and are quite different from the “anaesthetic revelations” produced by nitrous oxide (339-40).  Yet, it seems that the end results are all the same to James—an absolutely subjective experience which is absolutely meaningful and authoritative only to the patient himself—breaks down the authority of rationalistic consciousness, and is not intrinsically authoritative to anyone else whatsoever (370).  In other words, this relativistic understanding of mysticism is indistinguishable from the common definition of the Delusional Disorder or Delirium, if we consider the characteristic of transiency.  And this is also something of which James appears to be aware, at least as he analyzes J. A. Symonds’ “mysticism” (338), yet James shies away from a more insightful treatment of the topic.

*          *          *

Scully: You believe it all, don’t you?

Mulder: Why wouldn’t I?

(“X-Files: Deep Throat” [Season 1, episode 1, 1993])

Insightful treatment of religious issues, including mysticism, was certainly to be found both before James’ lifetime and during it, but James makes no references to them.  Precise theological language, clear definitions, and the corpus of previously accomplished philosophical work continue to be present as prominent markers for both Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox thought, but James appears not to be using them.  There is something undeniably alluring in this rejection of tradition and experience, and in starting anew, blazing a new trail.  In doing so, however, one risks ending up in the wrong neck of the woods and reducing the human religious quest to looking for a hypothesis that would make one happy; or proposing that one can easily become a mystic by taking a whiff of laughing gas.  Such “forward-looking” thinking turns religion from the experience of the ultimate reality into the ultimate self-deception.  This, however, is not religion to those who choose to define it more precisely than just “that.”

The varieties of human religious experience do in fact have much in common, but at the same time there are characteristics which make them varietal, rather than same.  In our view, these characteristics deserve much attention as they are fundamental to what we are as religious beings.  A belief in a hypostatic God, for example, shapes our life very differently from a belief in an impersonal force or in a nirvana.  Christ’s love for people, in a Buddhist context would be considered a passion which led Him to suffering, and if thus unacceptable.  Christians, on the other hand, find human sacrifices of Tibetan Buddhism or the Dalai Lama’s use of human skin for a prayer rug unacceptable.  Some may discount these differences as trivial; we view them as most profound.  Similarly, the differences within Christianity are not always skin-deep, as much as some may wish to believe it so.  These differences—which are not individual, but run deep through the various Christian creeds, groups, and denominations—profoundly affect worldviews, beliefs, and behaviors.  And it is the rigorous and insightful treatment of these differences that James’ work appears to be wanting.

*          *          *

James, William. “The Will to Believe.” Pelikan, Jaroslav. The World Treasury of Modern Religious Thought. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1990. 95-114.

—, Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature. Charleston, BiblioBazaar, 2007.

]]> http://frsergei.wordpress.com/2010/07/09/varietal-or-generic-on-william-james-the-will-to-believe/feed/ 0 Fr. Sergei http://frsergei.wordpress.com/2010/07/02/the-problem-of-the-central-persona-in-eliot%e2%80%99s-%e2%80%9cthe-waste-land%e2%80%9d/ http://frsergei.wordpress.com/2010/07/02/the-problem-of-the-central-persona-in-eliot%e2%80%99s-%e2%80%9cthe-waste-land%e2%80%9d/#comments Sat, 03 Jul 2010 04:30:18 +0000 Fr. Sergei Sveshnikov http://frsergei.wordpress.com/?p=483 ]]> I must admit that faced with the task of writing a short paper on “The Waste Land,” I agonized over the difficulty of pinpointing a topic—the poem seems bizarre, to say the least, and defies standard analytical thinking.  I was certainly glad that I did not have to study the poem in school; although my wife, who did, could not recall either a line or a theme from the work.  Perhaps, like esteemed critics of old, I too approached the poem “structurally looking for underlying mystic, symbolic, or formal coherence” (Davidson 6). Davidson notes, however, that this methodology is problematic:

Harriet Davidson, my casual friend, who knows me not,

And whom I too no longer know,

In words on par with those of “Waste Land” in the’r profound incomprehensibility,

Speaks of parataxis in the poem’s grammar, its structure, its allusions…

Indeed, I will agree with Davidson that my “first experience as reader of ‘The Waste Land’ is of the absence of expected connections and sources” (2).  Davidson goes on to argue what appears to be the formal and thematic centerpiece of her work—the absence of a persona in “The Waste Land.”

While others spent their years in the iv’ry tower,

Pursuing the elusive central consciousness

That lurks among the red rocks of “The Waste Land,”

Ms. Davidson was tantalized by the collect’ unconsciousness of Northern Jersey.

And fleeting consciousness of Jersey’s populous and politicians,

Their lack of logic, sense, and sensibility

Receded from esteemed professor’s lips as quickly as she bent her thirsty σῶμα

For a drink of dirty Tar’trus water.

Or, was it the commotion over Imus, whose audience does not include the

Rutgers’ Knights,

That pushed Ms. Davidson to reach for fruits of poetry above her head?

No use—they’re always out of reach!

But then the dark and gloomy spell of Πλούτων

Had lifted like the morning mist, revealing Ἠλύσια πεδία,

“Where soothing breezes off the Ocean

Breathe over the Isle of the Blessed:

All around flowers are blazing with a

Dazzling light:

Some springing from the shining trees,

Others nourished by the water from the sea:

With circlets and garlands of flowers they

Crown their hands,”

Oh, εὕρηκα!  Oh, gods of Archimedes!  I’ve found it!

“The many voices of the poem

Cannot be reconciled into anything

We know of as a single self [!]…

The poem simply does not have what we would ‘dentify as a controlling

consciousness…”

At last!…

Framing her argument, Davidson states:

The terms absence and hermeneutic are central for my argument and will take some extensive discussion to define.  For now, let me specify that by absence I mean the absence of a transcendent foundation, center, origin—whether subjective or objective—for our being.  Because of this absence of transcendence, interpretation or hermeneutics, rather than empirical certainty or innate ideas, becomes the foundation for meaning in the world. (3)

In other words, Davidson asserts that in the absence of the persona in the poem, it is necessarily added to the reading (listening) experience by the reader (listener) him- or herself.

Of course, Davidson implicitly postulates that a central persona is necessary in a work of literature, or, perhaps, in all human creations.  Thus, in its apparent absence, it is created by the reader who cannot help but view the world through the lens of his or her own persona.  This postulate, while obvious to some, may, nonetheless, be scrutinized by hypothesizing that it may be possible to consciously abstain from looking through any lens or from interpreting a work.  The work, then, is allowed to speak for itself; and, in the absence of a persona—a necessary prerequisite for any locution or interlocution—communication between the work of literature and its reader simply does not take place.  Although not intentional, such was my first experience with “The Waste Land”—utter gibberish!

Developing the argument further, Davidson notes that “the difficulties of the poem stem from the merging of the poet with his landscape; there is no controlling voice of consciousness in the poem” (10).  And although Davidson acknowledges that the “poem speaks to us,” thus presumably presenting to us a per-sona[1] of its own, she argues that this speech comes from beyond our horizon, and that “’The Waste Land’ is particularly far afield when tied to the ideas of persona and dualist epistemology” (23).  According to Davidson (among others), “the poem presents a world defined by the absence of a central stabilizing force, whether God, logic, the self, or empirical centrality… [And] in the absence of essence, self and world define each other diacritically…” (102).

In the absence of recognizable contextual clues, I understand Davidson’s statement as an English major’s way of saying that despite the poet’s self merging with the landscape of his poem, the reader’s self is quite capable of being διακριτικός from it, thus able to give meaning to the same.  This seems to be the paradox of Davidson’s thesis: denying a hypostasis to the poem, she, nonetheless, is unable to avoid references to it when she speaks of “The Waste Land.”  Elsewhere in her work, for example, Davidson even comes very close to acknowledging the existence in the poem of “Eliot’s finite center or point of view—which is not,” she adds, “a coherent or controlling self” (107).  Isn’t this last assertion, however, a hermeneutical matter, or, to be plain, a matter of interpretation?

This inconsistency in Davidson’s argumentation is not at all surprising: it may be the case that the human mind is “hardwired” for a hypostatic way of thinking, while that which is not compatible with this way is not processed until it is “humanized” or transformed by an ἐρμηνεύς.  We find examples of this process as far back in history as pictographic records go, but the most stunning example of “humanizing” that which intentionally lacks a coherent and controlling persona, is the constant human urge to build elaborate hermeneutics on the otherwise purposefully randomized foundation of various fortune-telling paraphernalia: coffee grounds, tea leaves, small animal bones, dice, wrinkles on one’s hand, babbling of an intoxicated Pythia, etc.  The hermeneutic derived from these and other similar objects is then attributed to a persona other than that of the hermeneut.  An identical process can be observed in the hypostatic attribution of otherwise-perceived-as-random natural phenomena.

Whether one finds Darwinian, Jungian, or other possible explanations to our passion for humanizing randomness and giving meaning to that which has none, I shall argue that it is a fundamental human quality and thus is inseparable from a hermeneutical process.  Just as in her interpretation of Jacques Lacan’s analysis of the function of language in psychoanalysis, Davidson shows that “you must have two before you can have one, because there can be no sense of identity before there is difference to define that identity” (121), I shall further argue that there is always a persona in a work of art, including Eliot’s “The Waste Land,” so long as there is a hypostatic receptor of the work.  In the intentional absence of persona in an artwork, it is then created by the receptor, as any hypostatic act is creative.  Not to give Aquinas more credit that he deserves, but if persona est relatio, then, at least potentially, any relatio est persona.[2] In other words, a persona of a text is necessarily born out of the relationship between the text and the reader.

Moreover, I favor the idea that Eliot’s own is indeed the controlling self in the text.  It would be incomprehensible to think that all of the allusions, literary references, themes, and images made their way into the poem without Eliot’s control, just as it would be incomprehensible and indefensible to argue that the choice of “The Waste Land” for the title over the original “He do the Police in Different Voices” was in the absence of a “coherent and controlling self” of Eliot himself.  If the self can be found in the mechanics of the work: Eliot’s choice of title, subtitles, images, languages, etc., its imprint can arguably be seen in the intentionality of the poem’s grammatical, structural, and other parataxis.

Finally, the reason why this self is so elusive may simply be the strong possibility that Eliot’s self was in the state of a nervous breakdown as he wrote his poem.  The common reference term for the condition that Eliot indicated on his employment papers before he left for Switzerland may be somewhat misleading.  If we think of the condition not as a “breakdown” of self, but as a different, albeit often painful and antisocial, state of self, an altered state of self, then it becomes possible to look for a “crazy man” in the poem.  Eliot’s controlling self simply does not conform to an examination by English majors; rather, it resonates with the maleviches and late freuds of the world, with “crazy” artists, actors, musicians, and other artistes, prophets, and other outcasts among us.  The share of the rest is to remain captivated by the apparent randomness of the tea leaves, by the unpredictable roll of bones, seeking for meaning in the relatio between the lies of a fortuneteller and the hermeneutic of our ever-creating hypostasis.

·

Davidson, Harriet. T. S. Eliot and Hermeneutics. Absence and Interpretation in “The Waste Land.” Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1985.

Notes

[2] I shall not defend my blatant logical flaw, since there is no need in this paper for regurgitating Aquinas, nor do I agree with his argument.