
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Words of St. Innocent

Saturday, September 11, 2010
Where Were You?
May the memories of those who died at the hands of terror 9 years ago today, be eternal.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. I had just taken our son to preschool and was on my way to pick up a few items at the grocery store. My mom was watching our infant daughter. I pulled over when the announcement came on the radio. I sat there alone in my truck by the side of the country lane, watching the sun stream through the forest, struck dumb by the words coming over the radio.
Where were you that day? I'd like to hear your story.
God bless those who serve to protect freedom.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
For the Love of Trees
The first emotional outburst occured in 1989, when I came home from college for the weekend. Driving down our familiar street, my warm mood turned to astonishment when I glimpsed the barren front yard before me. My beloved Sugar Maples were gone, completely removed with only rough hewn stumps and sawdust among the grass to remind me of their pleasant existence. Mom & Dad were out when I returned and so, I had to wait for an explanation. In the meantime, I sat on my bedroom floor and wept. Those trees were more than just a home for many birds and squirrels...more than just a welcome canopy of shade over summer picnics...even more than a spectacular crimson centerpiece on Sarah Street in the glory of autumn. They were pillars of my childhood.

My cousin & sister in front of one of the Sugar Maples many moons ago. 1987 maybe
Often providing a secret hideaway for adventurous climbers, my friends & I probably logged hundreds of hours on those sturdy branches. And many of my world travels originated on the three branches dubbed, “the reading chair”...often going to the Eastern desert in Walter Farley’s Black Stallion series or the Swiss Alps as Heidi’s story came alive or even the cries of the Yukon wild through the pen of Jack London..; yes, that Maple gifted me with a fantastic private library. As a bonus, the leaves provided a blind, of sorts, allowing me to check out the goings-on of the neighborhood undetected. I loved that. And while my sister & I often played “house” indoors, just as often we would set up our dwelling in the trees. Hmm..such happy memories.
Last year, as my husband & I debated about where to send our children to school, I made a visit to a christian school some distance from home. It was an emotional time for various reasons, with the chief stressors being our economic situation and discontent with our public schools. As I spoke with the kind lady giving me a tour of the school, I was holding back tears as I knew this was the place I wanted my children to be, but, financially, was it possible?

Close-up of leaves of the Corkscrew Willow
After the tour, I spent some moments just walking alone on the empty school grounds, admiring their gardens and the way the sunlight rested upon the stone walls. A soft tree caught my attention and I made my way over to the Corkscrew Willow for closer inspection. Maybe it was the breeze or the way the air smells in summer,... but it was here, standing silently by this tree with curled leaves that God’s peace came to me. The peace that passes all understanding is profound... a moment of clarity in which God’s grace indicated that all shall be well. And it was ... and is. I’m very thankful our children are able to attend that school.

Corkscrew Willow Tree
Oddly enough, I had my camera out a few weeks back to photograph this willow and even though my photos are nothing special, imagine my surprise when I arrived at the school four days later and noticed the tree was gone. Cut down to the ground with the rest removed from sight. I wept. I saw the gardener a bit later working in the same area, putting down stones where the tree used to stand. I told him I missed the little tree and he said it had to come down because the roots were going to tear up the sidewalk.
I believe God’s grace comes to us in many ways in addition to the sacraments... through people, animals, landscapes... yes, even trees.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Why are Christians so Judgmental?!
You don't have to go far in the search engines to hear the cries of atheists and other non-believers. I hear this type of criticism on a regular basis - in fact left the church for a time because of those same hypocrites. After all, the non-believer or disgruntled christian will tell you, didn’t Jesus say:
“Do not judge so that you will not be judged. "For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. "Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?” (St. Matthew 7)
And, while I might digress about the irony of using God’s Word to support the argument of one who denies Him, it’s a claim worth looking into - obviously- because it never seems to go away.
How is it that we become labeled as “judgmental” when all we’re doing is speaking the Truth, .... right? Didn’t Jesus also give us the Great Commission, telling us to spread the Gospel to all nations? Teaching others to obey and follow Jesus’ commandments? (St. Matthew 28) Didn’t Jesus say, “Go and sin no more...” was this casting judgment? Aren’t we to tell others the same?
How are the words of Christ reconciled to us? Where is the balance? As one who is innately opinionated, seeing things mostly in black & white, it’s no stretch to say that I’ve struggled with this dilemma my whole life. When someone I care about makes a poor decision, I have responded with indignation and judment, labeling it “righteous anger” ...just like Jesus casting out the money-changers from the Temple. Meanwhile neglecting to pluck the log from my own eye. It’s painful to admit my internal ugliness here, but who knows... maybe others struggle with the same thing.
At this season in my life, I’ve learned a few things: one, there is a difference between casting judgment and speaking truth and two, that difference involves love and humility. We can speak the Truth about the Holy Trinity, Jesus Christ and Him crucified, without pointing a finger and damning others with vicious words and actions. In this way, I have sympathy for my fellow christians who cling to Jesus as fire insurance, rather than a blessed Redeemer and Father.
St. Paul states it so well in his epistle to the Church at Corinth (1 Corinthians 13) that we may have gifts of men and angels... we may have knowledge and understanding of deep mysteries ... we may give all we have to the poor and yet, without LOVE, we have absolutely nothing. If I give Truth to someone, without love, it is worth nothing. And so, what does it mean to love someone in this way?

It means to speak with humility
to speak, understanding the commandments of God
to speak, acknowledging my sins
to speak because I have a desire for that person to know God
and finally, for me personally, it means to speak and then let it go with prayer...
I had only been attending our Orthodox church for a few months when, as I walked into worship late one Sunday, I realized immediately that we- the congregants- were being chastised by our priest. As I stood quietly in the narthex near the burning candles, you could hear a pin drop between father’s words. He was reprimanded us for immodest dress, bringing cell phones -and not turning them off- into worship, of walking down the aisles at times we should be still, among other things. I could feel my cheeks flush and my spirit subdued , something akin to that emotion of a child, being corrected by a loving parent.
Driving home that Sunday, I had time to think more on Fr. Scott’s words. This sort of thing never happened in my former Protestant church. I can only guess that some folks may have been appalled at such an instance... calling to mind an unrelated comment from an acquaintance, “well, if God can’t love me in my jeans and tank top in church, then He isn’t a God I want to worship anyway...” God looks at the heart, right?
God does look at our heart - yes. And our outward appearance and words testify to the state of our heart. The problem with my acquaintance’s comment is that she disregarded what God says about dressing modestly and appropriate for worship and took on the attitude of:
I am not budging; God can meet me right where I am.
If we were to meet the President of the United States, most of us would not show up in a bathing suit. It’s the same reason I don’t show up to photograph a wedding in a tube top and cut-off shorts. For some reason, though, the worship of our Lord has become, in some places, casual...relaxed... ho hum, irreverent and far from sacred. We are to give God our best, whatever that best may be.
Father’s admonishment was justified. He spoke the Truth to his flock with the love of God. We needed to hear his words; women needed to hear that low-cut dresses and mini-skirts were distracting (for do they understand the struggles of men?) and not appropriate for worship. I was stunned that day, but since then have come to regard this action as one of the greatest things about Orthodoxy. It had the same effect as my Trig teacher making me go to the board to work a problem in class. I learned it internally, not just superficially. The sacred worship of God was upheld here and that felt so liberating!
Love is key. Our life is a shining example to others, as St. John Chrysostom reminds us,
“There woud be no need for sermons, if our lives were shining; there would be no need for words, of we bore witness with our deeds. There would be no pagans, if we were true Christians.”
* This Russian icon of the Virgin Mary (the Theotokos) is very personal to me. It reminds me to seek the foot of the cross rather than a soapbox.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
CoExisT

a.k.a. Just Shut Up!
At least, this is what I consider the genuine message to be in this popular bumper sticker. You believe what you want to believe and I’ll believe what I want to believe and everybody’s Truth is subjective. Right? Just leave me alone. Live and Let Live. I won’t tell you to stop working magic and you won’t tell me to stop burning incense before my icons. And in this way, all shall be well.
Only it isn’t.
In this shallow manufactured Utopia, there is an inherent intellectual laziness; one sees borders on the surface, but the labyrinth of decrepit structures supporting this philosophy frequently washes away with the tides -- for if honesty prevails, one must acknowledge the collision between their Truth and their neighbor’s Truth. ie, I don’t mind that my neighbors are cannibals, after all, they live at the other end of the village.
With this article half-written in mind, how timely, I thought, as I stood in worship on Sunday. Bishop THOMAS was with us this day and I am thankful for it. He has a manner of speaking that really drives a point home; no fluff, no pretensions, just Truth -- succinctly. This past Sunday we remembered John the Baptist and the words of our Lord regarding this holy man: “Assuredly, I say to you, among those born of women there has not risen one greater than John the Baptist...” (St. Matthew 11:11) John was afraid of none, save God.
As Bishop THOMAS spoke, John the Baptist’s life came clearly to mind. I could envision what this rugged man might have looked like, living as an ascetic in the wilds of the Judean forest, wearing camel’s hair garments and eating locusts and wild honey. (St. Matthew 3) John was the greatest prophet and fearless in proclaiming Truth, as evidenced by his bold language, calling the Pharisees and Sadducees a “brood of vipers” and pressing them toward repentance for their sins.

Icon of John the Baptist
What a stark contrast John the Baptist presents to the notion of “coexist”, as our culture defines it. The voice of one crying in the wilderness, John was also known as the “forerunner” as he was born to pave the way for Christ, declaring Him worthy of our worship and identifying Christ as the true Lamb of God. I admire John’s fearlessness in the face of persecution. When he could have done the politically correct thing and stayed silent when the King entered into an adulterous relationship with his brother’s wife, Herodias, John the Baptist called it WRONG. He openly criticized what the King was doing and found himself in prison because of it.
Truth abrades those who love sin and Herodias was no exception. She hated John the Baptist for speaking this Truth, hated him so much that when the opportunity arose, she arranged for his beheading, thus marking John as a martyr for his faith. He lived rather to please God than men. God bless John the Baptist.
Fast forward two-thousand years. Our culture is shouting, Coexist!, Live and Let Live! while crossing fingers behind backs that our neighbor’s Truth will not mean our death. Subjective truth collides head-on against God’s prophet, John the Baptist who said, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”
Painting of John the Baptist living in the wilderness by Geertgen Tot Sint Jans (15th century)
If we care anything at all about our neighbor, we will continue to proclaim - with great love - that there is only one God and it is His Truth that defines everything. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” (St. John 14:6)
--an exclusive statement made for the benefit of all.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
St. Aidan; Remembering a Celtic Saint

In just a few days, on August 31st, we’ll be celebrating St. Aidan’s day. He is a Celtic saint of particular interest to me, as his actions remind me of my patron, St. Brigid. Aidan was known for his generosity and the gentle way in which he shared Christ with the inhabitants at Lindisfarne during the 7th century. St. Aidan, by his example, makes me aware of and ashamed of my own faults, such as a short temper and harsh words. I look to St. Aidan as one who truly loved people and the wildness of his surroundings, as his time spent in solitude by the seashore indicates.

Lindisfarne Castle
Lindisfarne, aka, Holy Island, is a tidal island off the north-east coast of England and a sacred place to celtic saints. It was the Irish monk, Aidan who built the first monastery there which later produced the stunning illuminated Lindisfarne Gospels. A much more accomplished task however, was the way in which Aidan shared Christ with the pagan people who were harshly described as stubborn and unreachable by his predecessor, Corman. Aidan's way was gentle, as nourishing babes with spiritual milk to introduce them to the glory of Jesus Christ.

Folio from the Lindisfarne Gospels
Aidan had been invited to Lindisfarne by King Oswald, a christian convert, who sought to bring the true Light to a darkened land. The relationship shared between the two men is one worthy of our attention, as they worked hand in hand, earnestly serving the people they ruled. The King frequently served as an interpreter on their christian missions and it was Aidan’s generosity that inspired the King to do likewise.
In one famous tale, during the Feast at Easter, there was a large crowd of beggars gathered outside the King’s quarters at Bamburgh. Before the King and Bishop Aidan even began to feast, news of the crowd reached their ears. Without hesitating, the King gave to the beggars not only the food from his table, but the silver dishes as well. Bishop Aidan was so touched by this unselfish act, that he prayed the King’s arm, which had distributed such gifts, would never decay. This proved true. Although King Oswald was killed on the battlefield, his arm was saved and remained incorrupt for 9 centuries.
The Venerable Bede, who did not always agree with Aidan, nevertheless, had this to say of his character:
“He neither sought nor loved anything of this world, but delighted in distributing immediately to the poor whatever was given him by kings or rich men. He traversed both town and country on foot, never on horseback, unless compelled by some urgent necessity. Wherever on his way he saw any, either rich or poor, he invited them, if pagans, to embrace the mystery of the faith; or if they were believers, he sought to strengthen them in their faith and stir them up by words and actions to alms and good works."
Bishop Aidan remained on the Holy Island for 16 years and in the Year of our Lord 651, took ill in Bamburgh and died on the last day of August. At the moment of his death, it is said that Cuthbert, who was later to become another saint of the church, was tending his flock of sheep on the Lammermuir Hills. Cuthbert claims he saw a vision of angels escorting Aidan's soul heavenward.
Holy St. Aidan, intercede to Christ our God, that I may emulate your gentleness and care for others!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Lily of the Mohawks

Upon her death, on April 17, 1680 (Holy Wednesday), Fr. Pierre Cholenec states in his journal:
“Then, her face had suddenly changed, which appeared so smiling and devout that everyone was extremely astonished – her face that had transfigured gradually in less than a quarter of an hour, because of smallpox that it left her face scarred from the age of four, which her infirmities and mortification had contributed to ruin her even more. Catherine’s face was so scarred from smallpox and before her death that she took a darken complexion. Then, her face had suddenly transfigured about a quarter of an hour after her death and became in a moment so beautiful, smiling and white. Her face assumed an appearance of a rosy colour that she never had and her features were not the same. Her face appeared more beautiful than when she had been living. I will admit openly of the first thought that came to me that Catherine might have entered into Heaven at that moment.”
*emphasis mine
Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha (1656-1680), also known as Lily of the Mohawks, was beatified by Pope John Paul II in 1980. I discovered her story last summer through unrelated reading about Native American spirituality and find that she comes to mind frequently when I contemplate the nature of love and sacrifice. She was the daughter of a captive Algonquin Christian and a non-Christian Mohawk father. The young Native American came to know Christ through her mother and Jesuit missionaries; her life testifies an enduring devotion to Christ.
Kateri suffered much persecution from her people upon her conversion and baptism, but even so, she said she often meditated upon the “dignity of baptism” -- such a beautiful thought.
Her feast day is celebrated in America on July 14th, in Canada on April 17th.
Incidentally, it was in 2008 that I made another related connection: Frederica Mathewes-Green’s podcast, interviewing an Orthodox convert sharing insight on how closely Native American spirituality is with Orthodoxy:
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Common Made Holy: thoughts on Zechariah 14

Quote:
The name and character of holiness shall not be so confined as formerly. Holiness to the Lord had been written only upon the high priest’s forehead, but now it shall not be so appropriated. All Christians shall be living temples, and spiritual priests, dedicated to the honor of God and employed in his service.
There shall be a more plentiful effusion of the Spirit of holiness and sanctification after Christ’s ascension than ever before. There shall be holiness introduced into common things. The furniture of their horses shall be consecrated to God. …Travelers shall have it upon their bridles, with which they guide their horses, to guide themselves by this rule. …the common drinking cups they used shall be like the bowls before the altar, that were used either to receive the blood of the sacrifices or to present the wine and oil for the drink-offerings. The vessels which they used for their own tables shall be used to the glory of God…The common made holy… The root of the words translated “holy” and “holiness” is qadas. The verb means “to be consecrated”, “to be dedicated”. Anything that is “holy” is set apart. It is removed from the realm of the common and moved to the sphere of the sacred.
Monday, August 9, 2010
And the winner is....
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Invictus

It’s one I’ve not heard until yesterday and find it hauntingly beautiful:
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
I find it encouraging to a weary soul, yet the lines, “Beyond this place of wrath and tears / Looms but the Horror of the shade” revealing of a tarnished hope. Still, it's that mark of the Divine in the human spirit -that unfathomable resilience- that intrigues me so!
Monday, August 2, 2010
DVD Giveaway!

This week, I’ll be giving away a DVD, from the Little Mountain: Reflections on Orthodox Christian Monasticism, (English version) a documentary produced by the monks at Holy Cross Monastery. The short, 32 minute work takes you through a year at the monastery, giving you a glimpse into monastic life -- not to mention the gorgeous changing seasons in West Virginia.
I’ve written about the documentary previously, as I was gifted a copy soon after it was produced in 2008. It’s with great pleasure that I can share this with you. I’ve watched it many times in the last few years and always find it refreshing for the soul.
You can read more about it, as well as other reviews at the Holy Cross website:
Watch the trailor here:
Just leave a comment or email me at heartjoys2002(at)yahoo(dot)com to enter your name in the drawing, to be held on Monday, August 9, 2010. Contest limited to residents of USA.
