Archive for February, 2007

Back up again. Maybe

Published on February 23, 2007 in life and Uncategorized. 3 Comments

As an excuse for not writing, this is even better than ‘my dog ate my homework’. As some readers know, some undefined glitch took down the blog upwards of two weeks ago. I was unaware of my problem for several days, but when I finally found out about it got on the phone with tech support at my web host, and innumerable attempts were made to solve whatever it was. Nice guys, those techs. They have a difficult job, and a technologically challenged deacon is just another in a long series of crises.

To make a long story short, the site was up, it was down, it was up again and then down for good. In the meantime, I had rescued most of my posts and stashed them on a free site. Everything else, including all of the pages (including Orthodox writers), seemed to be lost. I thought I had found the writers in a file, but that turned out not to be the case. I was very reluctant to simply wipe out everything, and that caused me to dawdle for several days, but finally there seemed to be no alternative. I called tech support, asked after the family of the now familiar voice at the other end, and asked him to delete all traces of wordpress. I had actually attempted to do that, but there was a recalcitrant shell of a data base, which would not delete itself for me, and to which new installations were attaching themselves. The family was fine, the tech said, and a half hour later he announced that the dogged database was gone.

A couple of days later, while working on my laptop I found what proved to be a zipped backup of the web site from January. I had not seen it before, so I was mildly surprised. I opened it, and discovered that among other things it included a pre-crash copy of the old Wordpress database. Under the theory that I could always start over again if the information was corrupted, I uploaded it yesterday morning, took a deep breath, and went to the site. Everything was there.

The lesson here is not that God rescued the blog. Shoot — the odds are at least even that He was trying to tell me to quit wasting time. After all, this is the third time the blog has crashed since I started writing it about two and a half years ago. No, the lesson here is, as my father sometimes says, that even a blind pig will find an acorn every once in a while. I, of course, am the blind pig. Call me Wilbur.

On the plus side, I was gratified to see that the world continued despite my absence. That is a lesson to all of us, especially Wilbur here. As the spider said, Wilbur is a humble pig. The current version (Wilbur 2.0?) is not humble enough, but working on it. It is certainly a virtue to cultivate.

So, I’m back. I’m also off to Johnstown in a few minutes. I’m at least as excited about that as I am about having the blog back up. There is a lesson in that as well. Blogs are fun, and even therapeutic, but they cannot begin to replace the flesh and blood world of the Church and our worship there. So Wilbur 2.0 is off to Atlanta, then to Pittsburgh, then to Johnstown, then tomorrow night reversing that trip at least as far as Atlanta. And, it’s Lent to boot! For this blind pig, there are no complaints.

Archpastoral letter at the beginning of Great Lent, 2007

Published on February 19, 2007 in fasting, Great Lent and Orthodoxy. 0 Comments

From my bishop, Metropolitan Nicholas, of the American Carpatho-Russian Orthodox Diocese:

To the Venerable Priesthood and Diaconate in Christ, Clergy and Seminarians of this God-Saved Diocese, and especially to our Beloved Faithful, our Devoted Children in Grace,

Christ is among us! He is and always shall be!

Dear Clergy and Faithful:

I write to you on the threshold of the Great Fast, our annual forty-day journey to the great and happy Day of the Paschal Victory of Jesus Christ.

I write to you out of my profound desire that you and I, in the Paschal Celebration, may enter into the joy of the Angels on that day.

And so I take this opportunity to meditate on the way of joy, and the path to the Paschal sunshine. I offer you my dearest invitation to walk with me in the only narrow way through the wilderness and the mountains, through the valley of shadows, and finally to the Rising of the Sun.

As your Archpastor, who fervently intercedes for your soul and the salvation of your family, I beckon and beseech you, come with me and all of us, into the Desert of Forty Days and Nights, the Great Fast.

We fast from food and pleasure because our Lord required this of us. He expected us to fast. In speaking to His Apostles on the character of the Christian fast, He said “When you fast, do not put on a long face like the hypocrites do” (Matthew 6:16). We must pay attention to the first phrase: “When you fast” – not “If ever you fast”. The understanding is that during the long period of time between the Ascension and the Second Coming of the Lord, Christians will and must fast: “But the days will come when the Bridegroom shall be taken away from them, and then shall they fast in those days” ( Mark 2:20).

The wisdom of fasting springs up from human nature itself. All of mankind understands that fasting is necessary in religion, whether the true religion of the Church, or the shadowy forms of religion outside Holy Tradition. Even primitive societies and pre-Christian pagans understood that fasting was a necessary part of one’s approach to divinity in worship and prayer.

In Christianity, all religion is fulfilled and answered, just as the Law and the Prophets are completely fulfilled by the New Covenant of the Lord. All the basic notions of fasting are clarified by the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Councils of the Church.

Our Lord Himself fasted forty days in the wilderness immediately after He was baptized by the Forerunner in the Jordan River, and immediately before the beginning of His public preaching and ministry. For forty days He fasted in an empty place, in an arid place of desolation and haunt of jackals.

Now remember that Jesus Christ was fully divine, as we easily believe, but He was also fully human. While He never sinned, nor was He afflicted by any lust, nevertheless He suffered the pains of this life. Thus He was hungry, thirsty and exhausted from His sojourn in the desert.

He also fully suffered as a human the onslaught of the Devil’s three temptations. It is important to remember that the perfect surrender of our Lord’s human will to His Divine Will was never easy, but was as difficult as any obedience made by you or me. And so Jesus Christ, fully aware that He is the Son of God, rejected the philosophical counsels of the Evil One.

The human obedience of Jesus Christ was strengthened by His fast. The temptation was not part of the fast. The fast, rather, was a preparation for the temptation that Jesus knew was about to come.

Fasting, for the Christian, is necessary to overcome temptation, as our Lord revealed to us in His Own triumph in the wilderness. Fasting, for the Christian, is necessary to overcome evil, as our Lord revealed to us in His rebuke of the Apostles in Mark 9:29: “This kind cannot be driven out except by prayer and fasting”.

Fasting is the amplification of prayer. It clears our perception from the confusion of worldliness. It reminds us that our souls utterly depend on the Word of God: not just Scripture, but the whole ministry of the Holy Spirit.

And so we happily fast, because fasting is the way to live abundantly and in liberty. We fast from sinful provocations as a lifestyle, and there is no end to this type of fast. We fast from replaying memories of past hurts and grudges. We fast from watching inhumane entertainment, and looking at lustful images. We fast from social, career and sports commitments so that we might attend Divine Services.

But through the year, the Holy Church calls us, during certain seasons, to fast from perfectly good things. During the forty days of Lent before Holy Week and Pascha, the Church has traditionally required her faithful to abstain from meat and dairy products. No one denies that these foods are good things. Since the days of Noah, the Lord has graciously granted meat to the table of His children. Because of this grace, fasting from meat is a sacrifice of our rich privilege, and it is a temporary return to the simpler days before Noah. We do this so that we may feel hungry and thus “spiritually poor”. It is during the experience of this self-imposed poverty that we draw nearer to God, and beg Him for the Bread from His Own Table, that is the Life of the world.

The Season of the Great Fast is a season of forgiveness, of acceptance, of mutual encouragement and peace. The Fathers are wont to call the time of Lent as a season of “sweet sorrow”. And in this sweet sorrow, our hearts are softened by God, and our frozen hearts are melted by the Spirit’s fire, and we may thus pour ourselves out in love for the Body of Christ. We cherish each other as bearers of the Image of Christ. We visit the sick, the poor and the desperate with friendship, and gifts of food, comfort and wealth. We pray to our loving Father, and our physical hunger reminds us that we need to hunger for the Bread of Life that is Christ, the Word of God and the Life of the world.

Pray with me, in this Season of Pilgrimage to the Great Day of Pascha. Fast with me, and let us hunger for the presence of God. Concentrate on Christ with me, and listen to His voice. Look for His Image. Savor the sweetness of His joy. Enter into the poignant, healing sorrow of repentance: yearn for the gift of tears, the second baptism of contrition that is like the latter rains – a healing summer rain that restores the desert to blossom once again.

Pray with me. Fast with me. Live again and live above with me. Become one with Christ, with me. Let us journey on this Pilgrimage arm in arm, and together let us meet the Risen Christ Who fasted and prayed before His Day of Victory, on the Pascha of the Son that is always rising and will never set.

Most sincerely yours in Christ,

+METROPOLITAN NICHOLAS

The Old Testament and fasting

Published on February 18, 2007 in fasting, Great Lent and Orthodoxy. 0 Comments

Several weeks ago, in the midst of writing a paper, I read a book by a fourth century bishop, Palladius, titled Dialogue on the Life of St. John Chrysostom. Written between 406 and 408, it is constructed as a dialogue between the bishop and a Deacon of Rome, Theodore. Palladius was a steadfast defender of St. John, and was present during much of the turmoil in Constantinople during the saint’s first and second depositions. One of the criticisms of the saint was that he was not particularly hospitable, and ordinarily ate alone. Apparently, bishops were expected to amuse one and all, and the Archbishop was thought to be improperly standoff-ish. Palladius defended him at great length, and on a number of grounds. Of interest to us today, on the very cusp of the Great Fast, is Paladius’ discourse on moderation and abstinence, using Old Testament figures to illustrate his contention that virtue is found in moderation and self-denial, rather than in groaning tables and plenty.

What evil is not to be found as a result of excessive eating and drinking? There are diseases, quarrels, upset stomach and the rest of ills. When was Eve dispelled from Paradise? Was it not when she partook of the fruit of the tree at the advice of the serpent, not being satisfied with the available food? When did Cain commit the terrible sin of fratricide? Was it not when he was the first to partake of the firstfruits, keeping them for himself in his greediness? When did the children of Job suddenly find their table a grave? Was it not when they were eating and drinking. When did Esau lose the blessing? Was it not when he became a slave to his belly, outwitted by a trick? When was Saul deprived of his kingdom? Was it not when he consumed the finest of his sheep, going against the law? When did the people of Israel provoke their God to anger? Was it not when they yearned after the tables of Egypt and begged the teacher for meat and caldrons? Now, as regards Hophni and Phineas, the sons of Eli, why were they killed in one hour of war? Was it not because they used to take meat intended for sacrifice out of the caldron with flesh-hooks? What of Jacob, the blameable, why did he ‘kick’? Was it not after he had grown ‘fat and thick and gross’? When did the ancients lose the principle of moderation anyhow? Was it not about the time when they had grown old on their couches? The prophet bitterly complains: ‘Those who eat lambs out of the flock and sucking claves out of the stalls, who drink strained wine, and anoint themselves with the finest ointments, and they are not grieved over the affliction of Joseph.’

There is a great deal more, and Palladius does not neglect the New Testament example of Lazarus and the rich man.

There are innumerable aspects to the Fast, but the words of Palladius give us another thought to ponder on in the days to come.

Incidentally, let it be said: if anyone thinks we live in a time of turmoil and difficulty in the Church, let him (or her) read Palladius. He describes a great number of evils, ranging from the sale of episcopacies to venal hatreds. The terrible climax occurs as St. John is exiled for the final time. A troop of soldiers seeking him raided a vigil during which women are being baptized on Great and Holy Saturday. Priests and deacons were beaten, consecrated gifts were spilled and trampled and panicked women were forced to flee naked from the Church, threatened by death and dishonor. A quick reading of Palladius will send each of us to our knees in thanks that we live in such benign times, as least insofar as the Church is concerned.

178449 pages viewed, 145 today
70657 visits, 101 today
FireStats icon Powered by FireStats