By Jillian Rettig, wife of 2nd-year seminarian Will
"I am married too, to Christ," began Madre (Mother) Ivonne of the Hogar Rafael Ayau orphanage in Guatamala. Madre was visiting the seminary for a week in September, and on the evening of September 29, she presented her life and work to the women of the St. Juliana's Society. In her lively and engaging presentation, she spoke of the unfortunate situation of adoptions being closed in her country, and of the several thousand orphans and neglected children she and the other sisters have taken in over the years they have been administrators at the home for youth.
Miracles of spiritual and physical healing happen every day at the Hogar, which in the last few years has moved from a dangerous city neighborhood to a beautiful countryside location on a lake. Our own chancellor and his wife, Fr. Chad and Matushka Thekla Hatfield, have been supporters and visitors to the orphange for many years, and Fr. Chad has led mission teams from St. Vladimir's to the Hogar.
In closing, Madre Ivonne encouraged the women to pray for the ministry and if possible, to visit in person, since the children love the missionaries who come.
As my family and I plan the details of our cross-country journey to St. Vladimir’s Seminary for Fall Semester 2017, I’m coming to grips with this monumental change in our lives. We are leaving behind our community, our beloved parish, our extended families, and our home. There is so much unknown ahead!
However, as I sat in the beautiful banquet hall at the Seminary’s recent “Roaring 20s” fundraiser and listened to the stories of former seminarians—faithful men and women who had come out of St. Vladimir’s in years past—my heart was calm. It was as if they were speaking directly to me. I felt encouraged, knowing these people had already walked the path my husband and I were about to take. Also of great benefit to me was realizing that other people on different paths of life were there, eager to support seminarian and clergy families. That special evening, hosted by St. Luke’s Church in Garden Grove, California, and coordinated by St. Vlad’s alumni, was one I will not soon forget—and one I was so glad I had decided to attend….
As a newish mom to a one-year-old little girl, I had soon discovered that leaving the house without a baby is a rare occasion. So when I got word about the “Roaring 20’s” fundraiser, I leaped for joy and secured my trusty sitters: Grandma and Grandpa. Just the thought of a special night out with “my fella” made me giddy, but a themed party with a dress code suggestion? I was so there!
Upon arrival, we were greeted by glamorous, accessorized ladies who kindly directed us to the hidden-out-of-sight cocktail hour with a variety of delicacies. I felt as if we were being ushered into a secret speakeasy, filled with happy people adorned in 1920s fashion—and yummy treats!
After checking in with Matushka Robyn Hatrak, who handles Special Events for the Seminary, and whom we had met during our recent visit to the seminary campus, I turned around and saw Fr. Chad Hatfield walking towards me at the check-in booth. I wondered if this President of the Seminary was going to remember me, since our previous meeting had been so brief. As I approached him, I caught his eye and was met with a smile. Though I wasn’t convinced by his smile that he had recognized me, I greeted him by asking for his blessing, and as he gave it, I realized that he had, in fact, recognized me. His warm reception made me feel as if I had known him longer than I actually had: a special moment indeed.
Then, we all were invited into the banquet hall. The real party was about to begin! We were spoiled (lavishly!) by a special photo booth station, silhouette artists, and a live band, as the magical atmosphere transported us back to the 1920s.
Looking around the room, I could see exquisitely set tables, twinkling lights, and dashes of black and gold shimmering all around. People whom I did not recognize surrounded me and made me pause in awe, as I realized how many people love and support St. Vladimir’s Seminary. I realized this group (all strangers to me) represented the little-known faithful who wish to support the mission of the Seminary and the Church. There was unspoken comfort and unity amongst the guests, which though hard to describe made me feel like I was meeting old friends.
Just before dinner was served, Fr. Chad took an opportunity to honor the spouses of St. Vladimir’s alumni and even the spouses of current seminarians. When I saw the spouses of the alumni stand, and I heard the loving applause of the crowd, I realized that people genuinely recognized the sacrifice, not only of the seminarians but also of people like me—a future seminarian’s wife. My eyes immediately filled with tears, as I comprehended their understanding. They knew, they could see, without my—or any pastor or clergy wife—having to tell them, the cross a clergy family is called to bear. I felt very loved within that room.
While a band played in the background, our table was dismissed to get food. When we returned, we began to engage in conversation with one of the night’s speakers, St. Vlad’s Alumnus Greg Abdalah. You would expect us to have spent our time talking about the Seminary, life’s big issues, or perhaps theology, or some other deep and lofty topic; in reality, we merely received good advice from Greg concerning the best places to eat around Yonkers! I left our table with very little doubt that I would be able to find a delicious deli or pub once we landed at the Seminary; I found this to be an invaluable and important part of becoming a “local”!
As my “Roaring 20s” experience came to a close, I felt peace, contentment, and assurance that my husband Jarod and I are already part of an extended family keenly aware of the challenge before us, and supportive of us in our journey. For me, a 21st-century Orthodox Christian and soon-to-be seminarian wife, traveling
Many visitors frequent our campus each Academic Year: bishops, priests, musicians, academics, monastics, potential students, and so forth. All of them enrich our lives as seminarians as we converse with them, share meals with them, and worship together.
On February 4, 2017, Archimandrite Chrysostomos Onyekakeyah from Nigeria came to St. Vladimir's to talk to us students about Orthodox mission work in Africa. With the permission of the Seminary’s President, Fr. Chad Hatfield, I had issued the invitation to Fr. Chrysostom, whom I’d met during my parish assignment at St. Nicholas Antiochian Cathedral in Brooklyn. I had already learned a bit about his fascinating life, and I wanted him to share his story further with me and with my fellow seminarians.
We found out that Fr. Chrysostomos serves large communities of converts, by riding from village to village each Sunday on his bicycle, and organizing benevolent projects for the elderly and for orphans. We also discovered that he runs St. Christopher's, an orphanage and elementary school in rural Nigeria, under the jurisdiction of the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Alexandria.
Additionally, Fr. Chrysostomos serves five different parish communities in the area! The Orthodox Church in Nigeria, he told us, is growing, but the resources are scarce, and finding young men to become priests, training them, and then providing livable salaries for them are all serious challenges. (He himself has been a priest for twelve years, having studied at the archdiocesan seminary in Lagos, the largest city in Nigeria.)
Very interesting to me was Fr. Chrysostomos’ statement that the Orthodox Church in this particular mission field makes a number of concessions to local custom, a phenomenon he calls “enculturation.” By blessing and accommodating not only the local language, but also some local customs, the Church succeeds in making Orthodox Christianity truly organic and local, while unequivocally remaining inside of the universal canonical church tradition.
Even more interesting to us all were Fr. Chrysostomos’ descriptions of the church services: his sermons are often more than an hour long, and are given in a manner that invites congregational response and interaction; baptisms involve performing the sacrament with twenty or thirty children during the same service—such is the growth rate of the Orthodox communities he serves; and so many children are being communed on a Sunday that distributing Holy Communion can take from 45 minutes to an hour!
Finally, Fr. Chrysostomos encouraged us to consider the responsibility we have within the global Orthodox community to remember our brothers and sisters who have fewer resources, and to consider supporting his mission and orphanage. (Vestments are especially difficult to come by in Nigeria, and local churches in the New York area have kindly donated some. Others have donated prayer ropes and icons.)
I, and my fellow seminarians, learn a lot when we follow our Lord’s admonition to welcome strangers (Matt 25.35). I’m told by Fr. Chad that Fr. Chrysostom’s visit has providentially led to the possibility of his coming in the near future to St. Vladimir’s for study, along with other Nigerian students. I’m so blessed to have had that initial conversation with Fr. Chrysostom at my parish assignment—it’s opened doors and pathways, both spiritually and materially, for both of us.
"When we started out our years of ministry, I was terrified," admitted Matushka Thekla Hatfield, in an evening where she shared the Hatfield family story with the women of the St. Juliana Society at St. Vladimir's. The Society supports future clergy wives through special presentations, and Mat. Thekla's talk about the years she and Chancellor/CEO The Very Rev. Dr. Chad Hatfield have ministered together in locations around the world, is always a favorite.
Matushka recalled their five years of teaching, preaching, and raising small children in South Africa, during the dangerous era of apartheid and unrest. She remarked that God's grace was always with her as she began to learn to deal with people of diverse backgrounds and persuasions. "In every parish you're going to meet with the same people in different guises," she explained. "You must learn to love the unloveable."
Later, she and Fr. Chad served in several parishes large and small, eventually planting Orthodox mission churches in Kansas before moving to Alaska to assume the leadership of St. Herman's Orthodox Seminary. While actively engaged in that outpost, the call came again to relocate to St. Vladimir's Seminary. Matushka testified to God's faithfulness as they made yet another huge adjustment, this time from life in the Alaskan wilderness to life as two New Yorkers.
"There were our plans, and then there were the Holy Spirit's plans," said Fr. Chad during his portion of the evening. "You have to be prepared for what the Lord asks you to do, and sometimes, it's pretty scary."
Other "Matushka-isms":
""That will never happen' was proven to be wrong, time and time again!"
"Protect your spouse, your home, your kids, and be your own advocate."
"Wherever we land, I find my place, and use my gifts as I can. Find your way to keep yourself going. No matter how old you are, you can always learn new things. Don't forget about the things that your heart wants to do."
Over Winter Break 2017 three SVOTS Seminarians participated in an IOCC Action Team that helped rebuild homes in New Orleans, an area devastated by Hurricane Katrina in 2005: Dn. Andrew Honoré, Evan LeDoux, and Antwian (Anthony) Davis. Seminarian Davis shares his experience ministering—and being ministered to!—during his one week adventure in Louisiana.
My trip to Louisiana was amazing—so amazing that my experience is almost hard to put into words. To begin, the people from IOCC who put the trip together were great: they took care of us from the moment we signed up to the time we got on the plane to go back to the Seminary.
And, one thing we never had to worry about was food. As soon as we landed, the IOCC Team took us out to eat, and from there on, we never stopped eating the great cuisine of Louisiana!
For me though, the best part of the experience was getting to spend time with all the people on the trip—students from the other seminaries, and even other seminarians from St. Vlad’s. I know that might sound a little strange, but because of our busy class schedules while the Seminary is in session, we just do not have the opportunity to see each other or to spend time around each other as much as we’d like. This was a chance to get to know each other personally, outside of the daily routine of classes and schoolwork.
Our days on the IOCC Action Team were composed of daily prayer in the morning and breakfast, followed by the trip to our job site, where we were tasked with completing a house build for the organization “Habitat for Humanity.” We did various different things, depending on the need, from putting up siding to painting. We ate our lunches—which we had made each morning after breakfast—on the job site.
After the workday, we went back to the Lutheran church where our daily meals were prepared, and cleaned up for dinner. After dinner we enjoyed a little down time before vespers, and after vespers each of us gave a reflection about our day—which offered us a time to get to understand each other personally and spiritually. We even spent a couple of nights hanging around an outside fire pit, having refreshments and, again, getting to know each other a little better.
One day we visited the Lower Ninth Ward in New Orleans, to see where most of the flooding took place during Hurricane Katrina. That eye-opening experience alone was worth going on the trip; I saw where the devastation had occurred and how the city is still rebuilding ten years later.
The work I did for Habitat for Humanity was rewarding and life changing—an opportunity to step outside of myself and my daily routine, to do something for someone else and help them start life in a new home. (Personal note: don’t shy away from a trip like this if you lack building experience, because the onsite supervisors are there to help and make sure safety always comes first.)
I would recommend this IOCC Seminary Build to anyone who would like to have a wonderful experience working with good people from several seminaries, IOCC, and Habitat of Humanity—not to mention the unforgettable experience of Southern hospitality!
O Lord, open Thou My lips and my mouth shall show forth Thy praise.
How many times have I heard this phrase, spoken by the priest at the beginning of the Divine Liturgy, and missed how bold and vulnerable a prayer it truly is? After all, if "out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks," then asking God to open my mouth is to lay bare my heart before him. And this, indeed, gives me pause. When the floodgates are opened, what will spill out of the innermost parts of my being? Will it be selfishness, bitterness, and fear, or faith, hope, and love? How, really, do the words of my mouth—streaming from the meditations of my heart—become pleasing in the sight of God? How do I fill my heart so that my mouth sings praise?
My first month at seminary brought all of this to the forefront for me when I found myself having to readjust my sense of a daily schedule to not only include academic classes, but morning and evening chapel services as well. Having come from a decade in the workforce as a school administrator and teacher, going to church twice a day was definitely a change for me. And—just to clarify—it was hard. It was hard to not skip Matins and sleep in. It was hard to pause my work to go to Vespers in the evening. But even harder than making time in my day, it was harder to make room in my heart for this daily cycle of services.
Like a new rule of prayer or a spiritual discipline, I found that the struggle was ultimately an internal one. I had come to seminary to learn about the Church. How could I expect to learn about it if I wasn't also participating in its life? If I believed it was valuable enough for me to pause my career to come here to study, could I also believe it was valuable enough for me to pause my day, to go to chapel to worship?
Then one day at the end of the first month of school, I was standing in the kitchen, washing dishes and singing to myself, when I suddenly realized something. I was singing a hymn from Matins! When had I learned it, exactly? How long had I been singing it? When did it become the first song on my heart like that? My heart filled with joy. Today—this moment at least—when my mouth opened, it had brought forth praise. These services had indeed been forming me unaware, filling my kardia and nous with a song of truth and worship. Perhaps this was just as important as all the good and meaningful things I was learning in my classes. Perhaps even more!
Fast forward to Lent and Holy Week here at St. Vladimir's, and this lesson was amplified again. Lenten services were longer and multiplied. During Holy Week, we spent 5–7 hours in services, way more than I had ever had opportunity to do when I was working back home. My feet hurt, my voice came and went, and my eyes grew heavy during a few of the Scripture readings. This was indeed a new kind of spiritual (and physical!) work for me. Yet, it is no accident that the context of the verse "Open Thou my lips" is within the penitential Psalm 50/51, for in the context of that Lenten preparation I similarly found myself struggling between being laid bare before God and begging Him to fill me with His mercy. And of course, when we began to sing the Paschal hymns—"Let God Arise," "The Angel Cried," and "Christ is Risen from the dead trampling down death by death!"—how could my heart not burst forth with praise.
Sandy Hermansen is a first year Master of Arts student from Oklahoma. She holds a Masters degree in Curriculum and Instruction and a Bachelor's degree in English Literature. Sandy is a professional educator who has worked as a school teacher and administrator. As such, she is interested in the intersection of the worlds of education and Orthodoxy, and desires to have her studies here at the seminary inform her work in education after she finishes her degree.
On Monday, March 2, the St. Vladimir's women's group met together to learn a valuable skill: cardiopulmonary resuscitation, or CPR! We were joined by Rebecca from CPRed (based out of Brewster, New York), who led the women in CPR skills to be used on adults, children, and babies in cardiopulmonary emergencies. Everyone who attended will receive a certificate from the American Heart Association. Congratulations!
Let us commend ourselves…
The first few days after the miscarriage were foggy and confusing. We were devastated. Afraid. Empty. We weren’t so much angry with God as numb. We shut down and withdrew. Why did we have to let go of the child we never met? Our emotional turmoil mirrored the winter weather: swirling snow shut everything down, and we were shut inside with our grief.
On the third day, God gave us a great gift to begin the slow process of healing. The blizzard dissipated, leaving everything hushed by a serene blanket of white snow. With everyone else inside to enjoy the day off, cozy with family before their fireplaces, the world outside remained quiet and pure, unspoiled. A new beginning. We alone emerged, tentatively, into that peaceful silence; tentatively, we entrusted part of our broken selves back to the Creator.
The next place we felt comfortable was in church, the Saturday night Vigil. We didn’t have to make meaningless small talk or look anyone in the eye. Others prayed by candlelight; we simply stood, holding onto the stillness from the previous day, letting the prayers wash over us. Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee. The prayers in preparation for Sunday, the day of resurrection already, but not yet. For Thy Name’s sake have I waited for Thee. We sat in the hushed service together, keeping watch before the icon of St. Anna the Prophetess, who is practiced at receiving children. We decided to commend our lost child to her, and to remember her with the same name. From the morning watch until night, let Israel hope in the Lord. Perhaps we could relearn how to commend ourselves to Christ, too.
Let us commend each other…
The close community at St. Vladimir’s carried us. Two priests came to see us shortly after it happened. They listened, they prayed; they assured us we could always call on them. They were kind and wise in their brevity. Perhaps one of the best lessons in the art of pastoral care.
The best gift our friends gave us at first was space. The second best was food. The evening after our loss came a knock at the door: no one there, just a bag of groceries and warm comfort food. And a note: We’ve been there; we’re here for you. Two of our closest friends. First there was a wave of guilt—how had we not known and acknowledged their pain? Then a stronger feeling, like a firm embrace: they loved us anyway, and there was nothing we could do about it.
We were not prepared for the gentle compassion we received. No one smothered us, but somehow, discretely, we were assured of everyone’s support. Family sent cards. A baby blanket in memoriam. We were even less prepared for the number of friends who had also miscarried. Obadiah. Innocent. Anna. They all had names, icons in the family prayer corner. How had we never noticed? Another couple of our closest friends invited us in. They had been there, too. You’ll never forget her. It still hits us unexpectedly after three years. Tears. Hugs. A deep bond that only comes with vulnerability and shared experience. Only in reflecting back do we see how we made it through.
With every act of kindness toward us, every tear shed with us, every prayer said secretly for us: our friends and family commended us to Christ when we were too lost and lethargic to know where to turn.
Let us commend all our life unto Christ our God.
Slowly the pain dulled, the sobs came less frequently, and we returned to life as usual. We mercifully receded from the spotlight. Nothing would ever be the same, but neither did it have to remain bleak. There were new pains, new fears, new questions; but we were finding a new resilience, and new wisdom. God had not left us during the most painful time of our lives, and in fact, we had never been closer to or more loved by our friends. As we practiced haltingly giving every thorny part of our life over to God, we found that the pain was not to be avoided or merely endured, but could actually be cultivated into the most precious fruitbearing tree. Now the flaming sword no longer guards the gates of Eden; Behold, through the Cross joy has come into all the world. Enter again into paradise.
After forty days of mourning, of lamentation, of the cold beginning of a New York spring—Pascha. In spite of ourselves, we dove into the celebration. Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life. Still not yet, not fully. But it felt closer; more certain. We grew to believe with more zeal than ever before. The child that never saw the light of day—her story did not, in fact, end before it began. We hope to meet her one day.
After forty days of paschal joy, of the hope of resurrection and reunion, of sunny days and blooming flowers, we had a memorial service and found out we were pregnant again. At the beginning of this year, our son was born, healthy and happy, by the grace of God. He cannot replace Anna, or erase the scar from our hearts; neither will he be overshadowed by her. Rather, he will grow up under the watchful protection of the Prophetess Anna and the Wonderworker Nicholas. And standing together in our prayer corner, before their icons and by their prayers, we three together will learn to commend ourselves, and each other, and all our life unto Christ our God.
I first encountered St. Vladimir's Seminary early in 2013, when a partnership was forming between the Faculty of Orthodox Theology in Bucharest, St. Vladimir's Seminary, and the Romanian Orthodox Archdiocese in the Americas (ROAA). While browsing Svots.edu, I learned about the Seminary's history, mission, and community life. I marveled at the photos of Hierarchical Liturgies served in Three Hierarchs Chapel and thought about applying for the Master's program, but attending seemed like an impossible dream.
Then came the critical encouragement that was needed. Professor Remus Rus of the Faculty of Orthodox Theology had served for a year as a visiting St. Vladimir's professor. He told me about his experience at St. Vladimir's, emphasizing that the Seminary isn't merely an educational institution teaching Orthodoxy, but also a spiritual center and community where professors, seminarians, and their families study, pray, and live side by side. He noted that this enriches the experiences of the faith immensely. He also said that studying at St. Vladimir's would better prepare me to serve the Orthodox Church and face the challenges that have been brought to us by secular society.
Up to this point, studying abroad had never been a priority for me. Three years ago, my whole life was centered around my studies in Orthodox Theology at the Faculty in Bucharest, where I was a student and also held a full time position as a network administrator and webmaster. I was planning to get married after graduation and to continue my activity within the faculty there. Yet God had bigger plans for me, of which I was not aware.
I decided to connect with Fr. Daniel Ene, Secretary of ROAA. He told me that my dream to study at St. Vladimir's might actually be a possibility, thanks to the agreement signed between the Archdiocese and the Seminary. Father Daniel encouraged me to apply to SVOTS, and to come for a visit.
During this first journey to America, I spent time on campus, talking with seminarians, professors and staff. I attended chapel services, and sat in on classes taught by the Very Reverend Dr. Chad Hatfield and Professor Paul Meyendorff. Studying at St. Vladimir's became my goal; I decided to finish my courses in Romania and apply to SVOTS.
During a subsequent visit to the United States, His Eminence Archbishop Nicolae of ROAA gave me his hierarchical blessing to apply for a Master Degree. Furthermore, the Archbishop helped me to fund my studies. So it was that on September 1, 2014, I began the Master of Arts program at SVOTS. What an amazing time that was! As a teenager, during the first year of my Romanian theological studies, I had read books by former St. Vladimir's deans—Great Lent, by Fr. Alexander Schmemann, and Byzantine Theology, by Fr. John Meyendorff—and learned about the liturgical renewal they promoted. It never crossed my mind that within ten years, I would become a seminarian at the same school where Fr. Alexander and Fr. John had served for many years!
Now, halfway through the last semester of my studies, I give thanks and praise to God for guiding me onto this path. Being a seminarian at St. Vladimir's has enabled me to understand the Orthodox faith from a deeper perspective. It has helped me not only to enrich my theological knowledge and to value my faith even more, but to learn and to experience new things. I discovered wider horizons through the liturgical life, the discipline of study, participating in community service, and interaction with new people from different cultures and traditions. After two years, St. Vladimir's Seminary is home.
I would like to give thanks to Archbishop Nicolae for his support and prayers, to Fr. Chad Hatfield for his guidance and care, and to Fr. Daniel Ene for his help. Last, but not least, I want to thank all those who support and donate to St. Vladimir's Seminary. Without their help, I and other international students would have not been able to study Orthodox theology on American soil.
Alex is a second year M.A. student from Bucharest, Romania. He holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Orthodox Theology and a Master’s Degree in Systematics, both granted by the University of Bucharest, Romania. Before coming to the United States, he was a member of the Board of the Faculty of Orthodox Theology in Bucharest. In his words, he is "passionate about technology, traveling, reading, and cooking."
As a seminarian, it can be very easy to lose yourself in classes and books, giving most of your attention to Liturgy, Patristics and Scripture. While these are all wonderful and formative pursuits, in many ways we only taste the fruit of that growth in opportunities to live out the gospel in the love and practical service of our neighbor. I was blessed to have such an opportunity this winter, working with International Orthodox Christian Charities (IOCC) and Habitat for Humanity in New Orleans. This was the third year that IOCC, with the help of generous donors, sponsored a week long Seminarian Home Build Team in Louisiana, precisely with the hope of fostering a love of service and empowering future servants of the Church to find ways they can practically show the love of Christ to a world desperately in need of it.
The IOCC asked only for a $150 donation, primarily just to ensure our commitment and personal investment, and they provided for travel, accommodations, and (fitting the city's reputation) some of the best food one could hope for. This year's team consisted of three seminarians from Hellenic College/Holy Cross, one from St. Tikhon's Orthodox Theological Seminary, one from St. Herman's Orthodox Theological Seminary, myself from St. Vladimirs, as well as St. Vladimir's alumnus Fr. Mark Vair (2015), and Fr. Rick Andrews from St. George Greek Orthodox Church, St. Paul, MN. We were led by the IOCC's U.S. Director, Dan Christopulos.
I had the pleasure of traveling from Boston with George and Thomas, two of Holy Cross' seminarians, and it became evident even before the project had formally begun that the fellowship would be a highlight. It is truly encouraging to pray, eat, work, and socialize side by side with faithful Orthodox Christians, all dedicated to a common goal and moved by the same Spirit. We made a point of sharing our reflections and thoughts after vespers each day, and I deeply appreciate the insights and inspiration of my fellow students, and the guidance and experience of our leaders. As iron sharpens iron, sharing the week as a group we were capable of learning and growing so much more from the project.
The condition of the city itself drew into sharp focus the damage people are capable of, as well as the profound good that can be done when people decide to give of themselves to help their brothers and sisters. While the city has come a long way since Hurricane Katrina, the physical and social scars are still readily apparent. We made a point of visiting the Presbytere Museum, which focuses very heavily on the Hurricane and its aftermath. For all the strength of the storm, it became painfully apparent that much of the human cost was owed to problems of planning, communication and even indifference. However, the tragedy also brought out many shining examples of selfless love, from the constant efforts of Habitat for Humanity and countless volunteers to rebuild what was destroyed, to churches like Peace Lutheran, our host for the week, who despite their own financial difficulties, have made every effort to make service to the community a defining part of their ministry.
It was clear early on that the immediate difference we were able to make on this trip was relatively small compared to all the work that needed to be done. We did some carpentry, cleaning, weather-proofing, and painting on six different properties, but left with quite a lot of work remaining. We were there to learn and prepare for a lifetime of service. Since 1992 IOCC has been a shining example of pan-Orthodox charitable outreach to all corners of the world, regardless of the faith of those in need, believing that caring for others is a necessary element of a Christian life. In recent years they have expanded their efforts to domestic disaster relief, training first responders, and cooperating with other charitable organizations, to best provide necessary services. We saw this first hand in the partnership with Habitat. A tremendous impact can be made with existing resources, whether it be the use of parish halls or the giving of time and talent.
The retreat was a practical lesson in living the Gospel, through prayer, community, and service. I will gratefully carry that lesson with me.
Erik Gregory Potter is a first-year Master of Divinity student from the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North. He comes to St. Vladimir's by way of St. George Church in Norwood, MA, where he also learned a deep appreciation for liturgical music and good food. Erik holds a Bachelor of Arts in Near Eastern and Judaic Studies from Brandeis University, where he developed his love for biblical languages and first discovered the works of St. Gregory of Nyssa, eventually his patron saint. He is discerning a priestly vocation, and hopes to serve Christ's Church to the best of his abilities in whatever way God sees fit.
