By Alumnus Archpriest Steven Kostoff (Master of Divinity, ’81)

This pales beside the Divine Liturgy, the Eucharist, and the real ‘Super Sunday’, Pascha!

The Super Bowl and the secular Super Sunday is now over. One more game for the history books (though I rather doubt that serious history books record Super Bowl game results). The colossal social phenomenon — the Super Bowl — was viewed by hundreds of millions of people worldwide this past Sunday.  Not to be disparaging or dismissive, it might yet be wise to approach this phenomenon from the perspective of our shared Orthodox Christian faith.  No sense carrying on about the hype and the madness. When all is said and done, it is what it is.

But I could not avoid speculating on how someone like Saint John Chrysostom, who fell asleep in the Lord in AD 407, would have approached the Super Bowl phenomenon in his own unique and pastoral manner.  Of course, there is a huge chronological gap between Saint John’s time and our own, but we also know that there ‘is nothing new under the sun,” and we can discover some very close parallels just under the surface when comparing different eras and their cultures.  Saint John very well knew and understood the lure of the “games” and other forms of public entertainment in his own time, as he lived in large, cosmopolitan and urban settings such as Constantinople and Antioch. Such urban settings invariably had a hippodrome — the equivalent of our stadiums — at the center of a teeming social milieu that was also open to public entertainment.

What is quite interesting in Saint John’s pastoral approach is that even if there is an implicit criticism of these public forms of entertainment (as he was very critical of the “theatre” as it existed in his day), that was never his main concern.  Saint John would employ what we would call today “sports” and other diverse forms of entertainment in order to exhort his flock to be vigilant and committed in its adherence to and practice of the Gospel.  Being a “fan” of a sport is far from being a “member” of the Church.  As a pastor, Saint John would challenge his flock to ensure that the great gap in that distinction is not somehow closed by lack of vigilance.

The great saint was fully aware of a kind of nominal membership in the Church, and he was quick to point out how erosive of genuine faith that lack of commitment could be for the entire flock under his pastoral care.  Saint John was basically asking: Are Christians as committed to the Gospel and the life of the Church as they are to the participants and performers in the “entertainment industry” of the fourth and fifth centuries?  Primarily, this would include athletes and actors. Do Christians show the same level of passion for the Gospel as do the fans of the games and theatre? Here is one example from among many of how Saint John used his rhetorical skills in challenging Christians on this front:

“We run eagerly to dances and amusements.  We listen with pleasure to the foolishness of singers. We enjoy the foul words of actors for hours without getting bored.  And yet when God speaks we yawn, we scratch ourselves and feel dizzy.  Most peoples would run rabidly to the horse track, although there is no roof there to protect the audience from rain, even when it rains heavily or when the wind is lifting everything.  They don’t mind bad weather or the cold or the distance. Nothing keeps them in their homes. When they are about to go to church, however, then the soft rain becomes an obstacle to them.  And if you ask them who Amos or Obadiah is, or how many prophets or apostles there are, they can’t even open their mouths.  Yet they can tell you every detail about the horses, the singers and the actors.  What kind of state is this?”

Yet, this rhetorical deflation of the theatre and games serves as a backdrop that only intensifies the strength of his descriptions of the manifold riches of the Church, especially the Eucharist. From the same homily, here is Saint John’s impassioned and rhetorically brilliant description of the glory of the Church:

“The Church is the foundation of virtue and the school of spiritual life.  Just cross its threshold at any time, and immediately you forget daily cares. Pass inside, and a spiritual ray will surround your soul. This stillness causes awe and teaches the Christian life.  It raises up your train of thought and doesn’t allow you to remember present things.  It transports you from earth to Heaven.  And if the gain is so great when a worship service is not even taking place, just think, when the Liturgy is performed — and the prophets teach, the Apostles preach the Gospel, Christ is among believers, God the Father accepts the performed sacrifice, and the Holy Spirit grants His own rejoicing — what great benefit floods those who have attended church as they leave the church.

“The joy of anyone who rejoices is preserved in the Church.  The gladness of the embittered, the rejoicing of the saddened, the refreshment of the tortured, the comfort of the tired, all are found in the Church.  Because Christ says, ‘Come to me, all who are tired and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest’ [Matthew 11:28].  What is more longed for than [to hear] this Voice?  What sweeter than this invitation?  The Lord is calling you to a Banquet when He invites you to church. He urges you to be comforted from toils and He transports you to a place of comfort from pain, because He lightens you from the burden of sins. He heals distress with spiritual enjoyment, and sadness with joy.”

Saint John was not called Chrysostom — the “Golden-mouthed” — for nothing!  He does not admonish his flock in this homily to give up on the games and other forms of entertainment; but he surely makes it clear that there is no comparison between the two.  And that, therefore, our desire and commitment cannot be so misplaced to somehow put the two on the same level of attraction.  The perfectly legitimate desire to “fit in” with one’s neighbors and participate in socially popular events must be balanced by an awareness of not being fully of the world once one is baptized into the Church.

Bearing all of that in mind, if I were to write in the spirit of Saint John and try to apply his approach to parish life in the contemporary world, I would make the following pastoral “suggestions” based on the recent Super Bowl — or for that matter, any existing commitment we might have to the world of professional sports/entertainment.

If you watched the Super Bowl from its opening kick-off to the end of the game, but if you chronically arrive late for the opening doxology of “Blessed is the Kingdom” at the Liturgy, then it may be time to show the same commitment to the Liturgy and arrive at the beginning.  That opening doxology opens us up to a reality hardly matched by an opening kick-off.

If you spent time watching all of the pre-game hype and analysis, all meant to prepare you for the game, but if you have never given much thought to arriving before the Liturgy for the reading of the Hours; then I would suggest arriving in church before the actual Liturgy begins in time for the pre-Eucharist chanting of those very Hours — a mere 20 minutes.  This way you are able to settle in and calm down a bit in preparation for the Liturgy that will shortly unfold in all of its majesty.

If you have been engaged in some of the (endless) post-game analysis since yesterday; or watched “highlights” of the game, or recall some of the more significant and game-changing plays of the game, but if you struggle by mid-week to remember what the Gospel was at last Sunday’s Liturgy, then I would suggest engaging in some post-Liturgy analysis of the Gospel that you heard on any given Sunday with  family and/or friends (or within your own mind and heart). There are also the many existing commentaries from the Church Fathers or contemporary Orthodox thinkers.  Such “analysis” can eventually become genuine meditation of even contemplation.

Sarah Byrne-Martelli, BCC, was Board Certified with the Association of Professional Chaplains in 2004. She is a Chaplain at Massachusetts General Hospital and is endorsed by the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese. She received her Master of Divinity degree from Harvard Divinity School and currently is a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) student at St. Vladimir’s Seminary.

She wrote the following essay for a broad audience (Orthodox and non-Orthodox!) as part of an assignment for her D.Min. class, “Advanced Preaching and Communications.”

Sarah also co-hosts a podcast on Ancient Faith Radio called, “The Wounded Healer.” Sarah, her husband, Peter, and their son, Rafael, are members of St. Mary Orthodox Church in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

 

Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do good things happen to bad people? We hear these questions a lot, and wonder how to make meaning of this. Do we deserve the good things, the bad things? Where is God in all of this? If we do good things, and live a decent life, not hurting anyone, it seems like we should have some guarantee that life will be good. But a quick glance around shows us that this is not the case.

We all know the stories…. Our sweet, elderly neighbor, who goes to Mass every day, had a stroke and is in the hospital. Your boss is a complete jerk, who disrespects people at every turn, and yet he gets promotions and accolades while you get nothing. My friend’s young wife is dying of cancer and they have a six month-old baby. And so on and so on…. And after a while, it’s too much to bear: bad things happening to good people, and good people suffering, all the time.

Some people respond by rationalizing these questions from a rigid religious perspective. There is this idea that God controls literally everything, from whom you marry, to your job offers, and your daily experiences. It’s like God is a micromanager. God helps you find your keys, and grants you that sweet parking spot you got at the supermarket. It’s related to the old “everything happens for a reason” line that people love to say, to reassure themselves. If I had been standing a foot to the left, that tree would have fallen right on me and I would have died. Everything happens for a reason! Hashtag #blessed. Well, that’s good for you, but what about the man it did fall on? What was the reason for that? Was that guy bad? Are you good? Was he good? What does that even mean? It makes you want to give up.

Perhaps more appealing is the idea that God is not involved at all, and we are the authors of our own destiny. You’ve probably heard of bestsellers like “The Secret,” with its “law of attraction.” Simply put, the law of attraction states that if you put out positive energy into the universe, you will receive it back. If you put out negative energy, you will receive it back. It’s like your mind is an existential magnet. If you manifest your vision, you deserve all the good you get. That sounds really appealing…until something bad happens. What’s the reason? What about the wonderful person who manifests positive energy, yet gets cancer? Did she deserve it? Is she to blame?

These ways of thinking are at best internally inconsistent, and at worst incredibly hurtful. If you have a tragedy, and someone responds with, “Well…everything happens for a reason!” or “You must not have manifested enough positive energy,” you know it feels like a straight punch to the gut.

And you have full permission to reject these responses. The good news is there is a better way to face the troublesome fact that seemingly bad things do happen to seemingly good people.

As you know, my tradition is Orthodox Christian. Reductive responses and cheery slogans don’t resonate with the rich theology of the Church. We don’t have this idea that God is a creepy puppeteer, orchestrating everything. God is not a cosmic babysitter, or a petty micromanager. If He were, I wouldn’t want to believe in Him either!

And we’re also not just sending and receiving energy into the cosmos, like rechargeable batteries. It doesn’t work that way.

I’ll start with an important premise. God is good. Everything and everyone who God created is good. Everyone. Yes, even those people who seem “bad.” We are all made in God’s image. And this God created us to be free. Real love doesn’t force anyone to do anything. We can do whatever we want.

But as humans, we tend to do things in a way that prioritizes our own pride, our own needs, our own selfish ways. This allows the force of evil—a twisting of the good—to take hold in people. This is what it means to live in a fallen world: that the second humanity had a chance to do something selfish, they did—cue Adam, Eve, and the apple. It took them about one second to mess with the freedom that God gave them. With this freedom came sin, and death, and suffering, all inherited, in a sense, from our ancestors. With this freedom comes a world of struggle and tragedy.

Suffering comes as a result of this inheritance. But that’s not the end of the story.

God responds to suffering in the person of Jesus, who was real, who lived and saw everything that was going on. Jesus walked and talked and knew what it was to be human. He responded to the suffering He encountered with compassion and clarity. He calmly turned things upside down. Instead of condemning an adulterous woman, He called the crowd to examine their own failures. He touched the supposedly “unclean;” He welcomed the noisy children; He taught that every suffering person is our neighbor. Jesus loved the poor and ate meals with sinners. Every human experience, every tragedy, every joy and grief—all are known to Jesus.

It can seem like the end of everything when a tragedy happens to someone we love. We ask, Why? We ask, Do I deserve this? Those are good questions, and Jesus himself asked questions like this, as He approached His own death. Again, He gets it, because He was fully human. He faced the pain of suffering, betrayal, and death head-on, with compassion, forgiveness, and love.

Life is not just about doing good works or having an impressive faith so nothing bad happens to you. It is not about judging others or making assumptions about another person’s “energy.” It’s about a path of holiness that constantly seeks peace and radical kindness to ourselves and others. It’s about approaching suffering with gentleness and introspection, not as if we deserve it or don’t deserve it. It’s not about good people and bad people and good things and bad things. It’s about seeking the only truly good thing: aligning ourselves with the heart of God, the love of God in us and around us. It is a daily choice—a choice that God gives us.

Well, then, you say, why does God need us to choose it? If God is so powerful, then why doesn’t God just do something?

Well, God has already done everything. God has done everything in the person of Jesus. And even Jesus was not immune to tragic feelings. He cried with compassion for his friend Lazarus who died. Jesus shows us so tangibly what God is like. We can do the things that He did.

When a tragedy happens, we hear that wonderful quote of Mr. Fred Rogers, telling us to look for the helpers. Mr. Rogers was a minister, you know, and his faith was quietly woven throughout his work. He said, look for the helpers. The helpers are choosing love, kindness, compassion. This is where we see God, when bad things happen. When we look for the helpers, we see that God is not distant, God is not gone. God is alive among us. And in moments when we don’t see any helpers, then perhaps the helper is already close by. Perhaps we are the helpers, the ones called to love someone in need.

The ultimate fear—that life has no meaning and tragedy is unavoidable—is conquered by a love that fills and surrounds everything that exists. That’s what I mean when I say that God has done everything, and He is never far away.

Now of course, sometimes we still grieve, we still fear, we still shake our fists at the sky. We don’t just magically bask in God’s glory and act perfectly. Life can be incredibly sad, and overwhelming, and heartbreaking. I have spent countless hours with people in the midst of traumatic loss. I have witnessed a mother and father cradling their stillborn twin babies. I have witnessed my best friend going through a terrible divorce. I have witnessed the shock of a new diagnosis, the shock of sudden loss, the shock of a heart attack. It is honestly a mystery. We don’t know why. But faith helps us abide and be brave. Faith turns to God in the shock, in the sadness, in the heartbreak. Faith gives thanks for the helpers and empowers us to help, in love and in faith.

The grief we feel is a cue in our hearts that this is not right, that death cannot be the end. Grief is borne out of love, and this love cannot be overcome. And honestly, sometimes there are no words. Sometimes silence is the most loving response.

On the cross, with His last breath, Jesus said, “It is finished,” and was silent. “It is finished” doesn’t mean it’s over or it’s done. “It is finished” means it is complete. Even the final tragedy— death—was conquered by the love that never ends. God does everything that can possibly be done. It is God’s complete way of saying: My children, I love you, and I’m here with you.

The question “Why do bad things happen to good people?” isn’t the question we should keep asking. Instead, we must bravely ask: How can I be a helper? We must say, God is good, and life is messy, and God has redeemed it all. We must say, Lord have mercy. We must say: Help me understand, help me love.

Does everything happen for a reason? Yes, but it’s not the reason you think. It’s not because you deserve one thing, and someone else deserves something else. The reason is that everything in life—loss, joy, grief, gratitude, everything—is a chance to pray and a chance to love. It’s a chance to seek the helper, to be the helper, and to pray, cry, and give thanks. Helping others, we witness true goodness, and we share this goodness with a world that so desperately needs it.

Homily delivered Sunday, December 10, 2017, in Three Hierarchs Chapel
By Archpriest Chad Hatfield, President of St. Vladimir’s Seminary

Gospel Reading: Luke 17:12–19 

Then as He entered a certain village, there met Him ten men who were lepers, who stood afar off. And they lifted up their voices and said, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” So when He saw them, He said to them, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And so it was that as they went, they were cleansed. And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, returned, and with a loud voice glorified God, and fell down on his face at His feet, giving Him thanks. And he was a Samaritan. So Jesus answered and said, “Were there not ten cleansed? But where are the nine? Were there not any found who returned to give glory to God except this foreigner? And He said to him, “Arise, go your way. Your faith has made you well.”

Epistle Reading: Ephesians 6:10–17 

Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

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The Nativity Fast is not one which we mostly observe, and not one upon which we tend to focus. Maybe that’s because our Nativity Fast has fewer liturgical or traditional observations that help us to focus—as compared to the Great Fast prior to Pascha.

Converts to Orthodoxy have incorporated some of their former Christmas customs into this season, especially in recent years. They’ve kept the tradition of the Jesse Tree, and some have blended visits from St. Nicholas and St. Lucia. Additionally, they’ve introduced Advent calendars, Advent Wreaths with additional red candles to accommodate the length of our Orthodox fast, and even Advent Logs. They’ve even appropriated the word “Advent” itself, which derives from a Latin word meaning “coming” or “arrival.”  And, ready or not, “O come, O come, Emmanuel” is very near!

During this season, we all need to focus on today’s epistle reading: we are in for a fight—Spiritual Warfare. Our life in Christ is at stake! We have all types of “spiritual armor,” so to speak, at our disposal, but often we fail to use it, and we are ambushed easily.

The writer of the Book of Sirach (Ecclesiasticus) said, “There is a shame that leadeth to sin: and there is a shame which is for glory and grace” (Eccles 4.21). Let us make for our own, the “shame” which is for grace and glory.

We witness that type of shame when we read in the Gospel about the one who is a sinner bathing the feet of Jesus with her tears and wiping them with her hair. We see the glory when Mary, and countless others down through the ages, chose the “good portion” that would not be taken away, either in this world or the next. Through this shame and to this glory may God in His mercy lead us all!

I am of an age to remember when this time of year was given over—in my former church—to the contemplation of the “Four Last Things”: Death, Judgment, Heaven or Hell. All priests built their sermons around these four last things, just before Christmas.

It would still do us good, in the midst of the “Christmas Rush,” to reflect on the Last Judgment, as this is the season when, as we say in the Nicene Creed, when He comes again to judge both the living and the dead. “O come, O come, Emmanuel!”

Christ, at the end of His public teaching, gave two parables about judgment. One is called the “Parable of the Talents.” It describes the judgment in store for those who posses Christian privileges. They will be judged by the use they have made of the gifts given to them. A stern judgment awaits those who have not used their gifts at all. My Christian friends, this is a judgment for us.

The other is called the “Parable of the Sheep and Goats.” It describes the judgment upon the Gentiles, that is, the outsiders, the people who have not been within the Christian covenant. They are judged by their practice of the natural virtues of kindness—to the naked, to the sick, to strangers, to prisoners—and if they have been good to the naked, the sick, the strangers, the prisoners, they have all unknowingly been near to God, and have been doing kindness to Christ Himself.

And, it would also do us good to reflect upon heaven and hell, among these “Last Things.” Actually, we anticipate them daily, in the here and now. Every act of faith and charity, every movement of the heart and mind towards God, is an anticipation of heaven. The Eucharist we now share is a little sharing in heaven’s worship, and the Holy Spirit working in us is the first fruits of the heavenly baptismal inheritance, the power already of the age to come. “O come, O come, Emmanuel!”

So too, we anticipate hell whenever we isolate ourselves in our pride and selfishness, and make barriers between one another, thus making a barrier between us creatures and our loving Creator! Our life as Christians is one of conflict and ambiguity: we live under grace, and yet sin dies very hard within us! Heaven and hell already do battle, and the conflict between them may be raging within our prayers, as well as within our actions.

The Gospel reading today reminds you and me that we are like “lepers,” separated by our disease of sin from the source of LIFE, the Word made flesh, who touches and heals. In the haste of this hectic season, let us be careful to join the Samaritan and give thanks. “O come, O come Emanuel!”

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Note: The image of the Advent Calendar was reprinted from http://manymercies.blogspot.com/. This blogger provides educational resources and instructions for many children’s crafts to help parents raise their children in the Orthodox Christian faith.

 

17 And He came down with them and stood on a level place with a crowd of His disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea and Jerusalem, and from the seacoast of Tyre and Sidon, who came to hear Him and be healed of their diseases, 18 as well as those who were tormented with unclean spirits. And they were healed. 19 And the whole multitude sought to touch Him, for power went out from Him and healed them all.

The Beatitudes

20 Then He lifted up His eyes toward His disciples, and said: “Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. 21 Blessed are you who hunger now, for you shall be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh. 22 Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you, and revile you, and cast out your name as evil, for the Son of Man’s sake. 23 Rejoice in that day and leap for joy! For indeed your reward is great in heaven, for in like manner their fathers did to the prophets.

 In the name of the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Hey buddy, get a job!”

“They’re just lazy, they don’t want to work.”

“They only have themselves to blame.”

“Now they want to take what I have worked so hard for.”

“They’re all on drugs.”

“I’m barely making it as it is, let alone give it to someone who doesn’t know the value of a dollar!”

These are things we hear often when it comes to the world and it’s stance on those in need. Yet, today we celebrate our beloved St. Nicholas, an icon of Christian generosity, kindness and mercy. And we venerate St. Nicholas because is it not easy to be generous, kind and merciful.

In fact, it is extremely difficult.

A long time ago, there was a man who had fallen on very hard times. He had been wealthy, and important. Business had been great and he had enjoyed the very best that money could buy.

But everything had changed. His business had failed, his investments had gone bad, and he was down to the very end of his savings. He had lost it all, and now he feared that he would starve.

So, he came up with a desperate plan…a desperate and horrible plan. In order to survive, he planned to sell his three daughters into slavery. The very worst kind of abusive slavery you can imagine.

But as the man went to bed, when everything was quiet, he must have been in anguish. As he thought of his plan to sell his daughters, thought of the merchants, the haggling, the tears, and the large sum of money, did he think about starting a new life for himself? But how could he ever live with himself? How could he carry on knowing that he sold his own beautiful children into slavery?

Thank God, I don’t think any of us here are in quite as serious a situation. But perhaps we are not total strangers to this man’s struggle.

When we find ourselves at the end of our time, or patience, or finances, how easy is it to ignore, or reject the people around us? And when we do—when we have gained that extra bit of cash, or that extra bit of time, or that extra bit of privacy—we also have gained the haunting knowledge that we have forced someone else to pay the price. That haunting knowledge that we chose not to help someone in need. That haunting knowledge that we chose self indulgence over self sacrifice.

But Christ does not abandon us in the haunting knowledge of our sins. Today, Christ stands in our midst. He stands in the midst of a great multitude of people from Judea, and Jerusalem, from the seacoast of Tyre and Sidon, from Crestwood and Yonkers.

Today we stand with that multitude of people needing healing from illness and from spiritual torment. And, we, along with the entire multitude, seek to touch Christ, to be healed by the Physician of souls and bodies. Today we not only touch Christ, we receive his very Body and Blood, and we are healed. And in that healing, we see just how wealthy we are.

We can rationalize it all too easily by saying “I have worked for everything I have. Nobody gave me anything!”

Really?

With a closer look, those of us who are blessed to be in the positions we are, may want to look at our answered prayers that we recite or chant during our worship. We have said these petitions just a few minutes ago:

For our deliverance from all affliction, wrath, danger and necessity, let us pray to the Lord.

For all things good and profitable for our souls and peace of the world, let us pray to the Lord.

Help us, save us and have mercy on us and keep us O God by thy grace.

Take a moment and reflect on those words and all of the other petitions we pray every Divine Liturgy. Our hard work and the pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps may not be the heroic and solo effort we think it is. Our ability to achieve and to succeed is granted by God—our peace, heath and safety, an answered prayer. Our success or status is a result of being helped, saved and kept by God’s grace.

It is easy to focus on what we think are unanswered prayers as opposed to focusing on what prayers and requests have been answered. In many cases, they have been answered abundantly. With this abundance we are called to use it to emulate Christ’s mercy.

Truly, Christ has helped us, he has saved us, and he has mercy on us, and he keeps us by His grace. For every good gift, and every perfect gift is from above.

Having received such wealth, such blessings, we follow Christ. We follow Christ out into those places where we find those multitudes who are in need of healing and mercy and salvation.

Today we bring the mercy of Christ to the poor. For Jesus does not tell people to get a job, rather Christ blesses the poor as he says theirs is the kingdom of God.

Today we bring the generosity of the Lord to the hungry. For Christ does not call them lazy, but he blesses the hungry and promises that they will be filled.

Today we bring the comfort of Christ to the weeping. For he did not tell them to “get over it and toughen up,” but rather Jesus blesses them saying that you will have joy.

We follow Christ by giving our support to the poor.

We follow Christ by inviting the lonely and the forgotten to seats at our tables and by our fireplaces.

We follow Our Lord by comforting those who weep with a kind word, gesture or visit.

We follow Christ not only in our ministry to strangers, but also in our ministry to those we know, especially our children, our parents, our spouses, our friends and neighbors.

Now is that time for the mercy and love and generosity of Christ.

That man, long ago, who had planned on selling his daughters. Little did he know, but God sent someone to save him from his sin. St. Nicholas heard about what the man was going to do. And instead of publicly humiliating the man, or accusing him of planning evil, St. Nicholas secretly dropped a bag of money through an open window at the man’s home.

With that large sum, the man was able to arrange a marriage for his oldest daughter. And with more money that St. Nicholas provided, the man was able to provide for his other daughters.

This is how Christ calls us to love.

In this season of Advent, we embrace the fast so that we can share what we have with others.

In this season of Advent we pray to God for the courage and the grace to love everyone around us.

In this season of Advent, we follow Christ in acts of mercy, and kindness and generosity.

Holy Father Nicholas pray to God for us.

AMEN

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Deacon Larry Soper is a 2nd-year Seminarian in the Master of Divinity program. He hails from North Canton, Ohio, and his home parish is St. George Serbian Orthodox Church, Serbian Orthodox Diocese of Eastern America. Prior to coming to the Seminary, he spent a decade working at a renowned drug and alcohol rehabilitation center in Akron, Ohio, where, he says, he “discovered what living the gospel really means” by working among the poor, the disenfranchised, and those with physical and mental illness.

The festal cycle of the Church sanctifies time. By this we mean that the tedious flow of time is imbued with sacred content as we celebrate the events of the past now made present through liturgical worship. Notice how often we hear the word “today” in the hymns of the Feast chanted at Vespers:

“Today let us, the faithful dance for joy … “

“Today the living Temple of the holy glory of Christ our God, she who alone among women is pure and blessed …”

“Today the Theotokos, the Temple that is to hold God is led into the temple of the Lord…

Again, we do not merely commemorate the past, but we make the past present.

We actualize the event being celebrated so that we are also participating in it. We, today, rejoice as we greet the Mother of God as she enters the Temple, “in anticipation proclaiming Christ to all.”

Can all—or any—of this possibly change the “tone” of how we live this day? Is it at all possible that an awareness of this joyous Feast can bring some illumination or sense of divine grace into the seemingly unchanging flow of daily life? Are we able to envision our lives as belonging to a greater whole: the life of the Church that is moving toward the final revelation of God’s Kingdom in all of its fullness? Do such questions even make any sense as we are scrambling just to get through the day intact and in one piece, hopefully avoiding any serious mishaps or calamities? If not, can we at least acknowledge that “something” essential is missing from our lives?

I believe there are a few things we can do on a practical level that will bring the life of the Church and its particular rhythms into our domestic lives. As we know, each particular Feast has a main hymn called the Troparion. This Troparion captures the over-all meaning and theological content of the Feast in a somewhat poetic fashion. As the years go by, and as we celebrate the Feasts annually, you may notice that you have memorized these Troparia, or at least recognize them when they are sung in church. For the Entrance of the Theotokos into the Temple, the festal Troparion is:

Today is the prelude of the good will of God, of the preaching of the salvation of mankind,
The Virgin appears in the temple of God, in anticipation proclaiming Christ to all,
Let us rejoice and sing to her: Rejoice, O Fulfillment of the Creator’s dispensation!

A great Feast Day of the Church is never a one-day affair! There is the “Afterfeast” and then, finally, the “Leavetaking” of the Feast. So this particular Feast extends from today, November 21, until Saturday, November 25. A good practice, therefore, would be to include the Troparion of the Feast in our daily prayer until the Leavetaking. That can be very effective when parents pray together with their children before bedtime, as an example.

Perhaps even more importantly, within a family meal setting, would be to sing or simply say or chant the Troparion together before sitting down to share that meal together. The Troparion would replace the usual prayer used, presumably the Lord’s Prayer. All of this can be especially effective with children, as it will introduce them to the rhythm of church life and its commemoration of the great events in the life of Christ and the Virgin Mary.

Do you have any Orthodox literature in the home that would narrate and then perhaps explain the events and their meaning of the Great Feast Days? Reading this together as a family can also be very effective. A short Church School session need not be the only time that our children are introduced to the life of the Church. The home, as we recall, has been called a “little church” by none other than St. John Chrysostom!

We must remember that Orthodox Christianity is meant to be a way of life, as expressed here by Fr. Pavel Florensky:

“The Orthodox taste, the Orthodox temper, is felt but is not subject to arithmetical calculation. Orthodoxy is shown, not proved. That is why there is only one way to understand Orthodoxy: through direct experience … to become Orthodox, it is necessary to immerse oneself all at once into the very element of Orthodoxy, to begin living in an Orthodox way. There is no other way.”—The Pillar and Ground of the Truth)

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Father Steven is the pastor of Christ the Savior-Holy Spirit Orthodox Church, in Norwood, Ohio.

 

 

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Today God calls someone a word that no one ever wants to hear: “fool“!

How scary is the thought of being called a fool by God!

Why does God call this man a fool? The man was rich. He worked his land well. He saved his extra crops. God even blessed his soil and gave this rich man good harvests.

So why is this rich man called a fool by God? Is it a sin to work hard, budget for the future, and save our resources?

No. Hard work is the virtue of diligence. Budgeting for the future is the virtue of prudence. Saving our resources is the virtue of frugality. So why is this rich man a fool?

Because this rich man fooled himself into thinking that all he had in life was his own. The man who wisely managed his goods, foolishly managed his thoughts. This rich fool said to himself: “I am the author of my life, my goods are my own”. This rich fool wrote God out of his life.

He separated himself from God who said, through the words of Saint Paul, that those rich in this present age should be rich also in good works. They should be ready to share. They should be generous. They should store up treasure for themselves in heaven.

This rich fool did not see himself as a steward of God’s treasure. He thought that by ignoring God’s command to feed the poor he would have more of the good things in life. He thought that he would have more joy and fulfillment by following his own will and ignoring God’s will.

The rich fool forgot that God gives us all good things in life. The rich fool forgot that God wants us to be filled with joy by accumulating an abundance of virtues. The rich man only sought to please his own stomach, never once thinking about how to please God. His body lacked no physical food, but his soul was starved for virtue.

God gave the rich man treasuries of food so that the rich man would cultivate love in his own heart by being charitable to his neighbor. But the rich man chose the fleeting joy of an overfull stomach rather than the eternal joy of supporting the poor. God wanted this man to be rich in virtue.

This man’s stomach wanted him to be starved for virtue. God knows that we easily love our stomachs more than we love His commandments. Thankfully, God easily loves us more than we love our stomachs.

God loves us so much that He gave His only-begotten Son to a humiliating crucifixion. But Christ’s life did not end with death. Christ conquered death, ascended into Heaven, and reigns at the right hand of the Father.

So too, our lives do not end with death. After death, we will be judged. And after the judgment we hope to behold our Lord in heaven. We hope to feed on the joy that comes from eternal communion with God. As we sing in the Troparion for the Departed: “Give rest to the soul of thy servant O Savior, preserving it in the blessed life which is with Thee, who lovest mankind.”

Because of Christ’s victory over death, we no longer fear death. Because of Christ’s victory over death, we look with joy to the life to come. We steward well the treasures God gives us in this life. We eagerly hoard good deeds and virtues, because they are the only things we can take with us into the next life.

On the 26th of December, 1782, Vassily Drozdov came into this world. He grew up in the town of Kolomna, near Moscow. God gave Vassily many gifts. He was able to study in some of the finest schools in Russia.

He never once thought that he deserved or earned his good things in life. He was grateful to God for all of the treasures he received. Vassily knew that he was partner, with God, in all of his endeavors in life. When God, in His love, gave Vassily learning and understanding, Vassily, with deep gratitude, wanted to return God’s love.

Out of love for God, Vassily chose to use his intellectual gifts to pursue virtue, for God’s glory. Vassily taught at seminary, considering the professional duties of a teacher of utmost importance. He cared for his seminarians, spent time with them, prayed for them, and loved them.

Vassily also used his intellectual gifts to feed the sheep outside of his seminary. Late at night, when Vassily was tempted to eat, drink, and be merry, he called his own stomach a fool and chose to be rich toward God. He labored at night, writing edifying words for his Orthodox brothers and sisters.

Vassily loved his neighbor. Vassily loved God. Vassily loved virtue.

On the 6th of November, 1808, Vassily, the seminary professor was tonsured Philaret, the monk. “Philaret” means “he who loves virtue”. Truly, St. Philaret, the Metropolitan of Moscow, loves virtue with all his heart.

Emulate his love. Practice the virtue of thankfulness today. As you sit down to eat dinner tonight, pause for a moment.

Think of all the hard work that went into your meal. Think of the people who labored over your food. Think of the good favor God showed you in allowing the farmer’s crops to grow and produce the food that you are now eating.

Think of God’s love in supporting our economy, the economy that allows you to purchase such good food. Think to yourself that although God implants in us the need to nourish ourselves with food, He also allows us to enjoy our food and derive pleasure from fulfilling our daily needs.

And then say aloud: “The poor shall eat and shall be filled. Those who seek the Lord shall praise Him; their hearts shall live forever.”

And as you eat your dinner, fill your mind with nutritious thoughts. Think of how St. Philaret enjoyed eating food but did not obsess over his stomach. Think of how St. Philaret loved virtue more than he loved food. Think of how St. Philaret was a good steward of the treasures God gave to him, because St. Philaret knew that all good things in life come from God.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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Seminarian Daniel Vanderkolk is a 3rd-year Master of Divinity student, from the Diocese of the Midwest, Orthodox Church in America. Prior to coming to St. Vladimir’s Seminary, he taught 10th-grade Latin Language and Literature at Oakdale Academy in Waterford, MI. This homily was given on Sunday, November 19, 2017, at Holy Transfiguration Orthodox Church, New Haven, CT, where Seminarian Vanderkolk is a student intern under rector, Archpriest Michael Westerberg. On that Sunday the Orthodox Church also commemorated the repose of St. Philaret, Metropolitan of Moscow.

Second-year Seminarian Brian Crivella gave this homily during our daily Matins service in Three Hierarchs Chapel, Thursday, October 12, 2017, as part of his Master of Divinity program coursework requirement. The Gospel reading for the day was Luke 9.7–11, and Seminarian Brian especially concentrated on verse 10:

And the apostles, when they had returned,
told Him all that they had done.
Then He took them and went aside privately into a deserted place
belonging to the city called Bethsaida.

Before enrolling at St. Vladimir’s Seminary, Seminarian Brian was a member of St. Nicholas Orthodox Church, Mentor, OH, Orthodox Church in America, Diocese of the Midwest, and had spent nearly 8 years on active duty in the U.S. Coast Guard—performing search and rescue missions on the Great Lakes, and even patrolling the Caribbean Sea to catch drug smugglers and traffickers!

We are pleased to share Seminarian Brian’s labor and good words with you.

 

“Following Jesus to a deserted place”

In the name of The Father, and The Son, and The Holy Spirit. Amen

Today, Luke tells us of a man who seems to have it all. He has servants who attend his every want. His home is huge. Everyone wants to see him, to have his ear. Herod is a king, and on top of the world. But Herod is perplexed.

There is a Man, a Man performing all sorts of miracles. Who is He?

One of the old prophets had risen again, they whisper. Others declare it is Elijah, who has appeared as foretold.  But then the bombshell: it is John. John the Baptist had risen from the dead.

When he hears this, imagine how Herod must have reacted. Imagine his face falls dark. His brow furrows. His nostrils flare. He declares, “John I have beheaded,” asserting his control of the situation.

And, indeed, John he did behead. Because despite all he has, Herod is empty. Despite all his friends, Herod is lonely. Despite his total authority and control, Herod is helpless. There is something deep inside that Herod doesn’t fully understand: a gnawing, a deep emptiness and despair.

Herod is not any different from us. Especially us. Like Herod, our lives are filled with worldly luxury and conveniences.

The world tries to convince us to fill ourselves with our carnal desires in order to feel happy, to feel satisfied. If we just had the right stuff, the right people, or went to the right places, we’d feel happier. Right?

But the things that are supposed to make us happy, don’t keep us happy. The things that are supposed to satisfy us don’t satisfy us.

We tell ourselves, “You know, if I were just more popular, I’d be happy. If more people really knew me and about me, they’d love me.” So we spend all day on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter. We don’t get anything done. Then, when we finally turn off our phones and look around, we find ourselves alone.

So, maybe, what we need to do is to take a trip? To see something new, experiencing something fun, something exotic or relaxing? A trip to the beach…a trip out of town…a trip to the game?

But soon we find ourselves back home, back where we started. We’ve seen something new, but our life remains the same. We’ve gone to relax, but now we’re back to our stressful job, our stressful school, our stressful relationships—all of them unchanged.

We tell ourselves, “Let’s go see the new movie.” We grab the newest game…newest iPhone…newest car. New, new, new. “New” will make us happy.

But the newness wears off. We take our things for granted. They get stale, old, boring.

The crazy thing is, the more we try to fix our broken feelings, the more we inevitably feed into them. We become lonelier, sadder, emptier.

But this is how the world says to fix it. Yet, it doesn’t fix it.

But there is a way to fill this ache, this gnawing within each and every one of us. There’s someone that can help us cope with the deep brokenness that we all experience and struggle with. Someone whom we can follow, who will heal us.

To Bethsaida the multitudes follow Him, even when He seemed far away, “in a private place.” Yet as soon as they hear that He is there, these multitudes, these great groups of people, drop everything to follow after Jesus—not their jobs, not their toys, not their school, not their social standing or friends; they follow after Him.

When we follow Jesus, we no longer follow after ourselves or the world. When we follow Jesus, we don’t need to fix ourselves.

Just as the multitudes did, we receive what we really need to be satisfied. We receive Jesus Christ; Jesus Christ, who bears all our burdens, pains, longings, and shortcomings with us—our struggle with our shortcomings, our failings, or the pain in our past. Christ carries them, with us, to the Cross.

Follow him. It doesn’t matter if He’s far away, privately with His 12 disciples. The multitudes followed Him there. We follow Him there, with them. Christ gives us the very strength to do it. Christ gives us the strength to forgo the empty desires of this world, just like the multitudes.

As we put down our phone and spend time with those around us, in person, attentive to them, we are following after Christ.

As we travel—not for our entertainment nor for our enjoyment but for the sake of another who cannot leave their home, their hospital bed, or their prison—we are following after Christ.

As the precious extra time and money we’re blessed with finds itself spent on giving good things to our neighbors who have nothing or food to all those who are starving, we are following after Christ.

As we stop following after the way of this world, we are transformed in Christ, and our mind is renewed.

Today, we follow Christ where He resides privately with His disciples in Bethsaida. We give thanks for all that He has born with us. And as we draw ever nearer to Him, we bless and fill others with good things in His name. In this way we are truly fulfilled and truly satisfied.

Glory to God!

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This reflection is by  Alumnus Archpriest Steven Kostoff (Master of Divinity ’81), pastor of Christ the Savior-Holy Spirit Orthodox Church, in Norwood, Ohio. He references the Akathist Hymn titled, “Glory to God for All Things,” also sometimes known as the “Akathist of Thanksgiving.” This remarkable hymn, attributed to Metropolitan Tryphon (Prince Boris Petrovich Turkestanov, +1934), was found among the effects of Protopresbyter Gregory Petrov, upon his death in a prison camp in 1940. The most commonly used title for the hymn was taken from the words of St. John Chrysostom, as he lay dying in exile—words of praise arising from amidst terrible sufferings.

Fall officially begins at 4:02 p.m. (East Coast time) on Friday, September 22. And that means later today. From my personal—and, admittedly, “subjective”—perspective, there is nothing quite like the fall among the four seasons. For me, one of this season’s greatest attractions is found in the flaming red, orange, yellow, and golden leaves that transform familiar trees into a series of neighborhood “burning bushes,” each one seemingly brighter than the other. When combined with a piercing blue sky on a sunlit day and a certain crispness in the air, I find myself more vividly aware of the surrounding world and thankful for God’s creation.

On a somewhat more “philosophical note”—more apt to emerge, perhaps, on an overcast, windswept day—we may realize that this “colorful death” signals the fleeting nature of everything beautiful in this world, “for the form of this world is passing away” [1 Cor 7.31]. And yet this very beauty, and the sense of yearning that accompanies it, is a sign of the beauty ineffable of the coming Kingdom of God and our restless desire to behold and experience that beauty.

Growing up on a typical city block in Detroit, I distinctly recall a neighborhood “ritual” that marked this particular season: the raking and burning of leaves that went on up and down the entire block once most of the leaves had spiraled and floated to the ground. Everyone on the block raked the leaves down toward the street and into neatly formed mounds of color that rested alongside the curb. Then they were lit, and the task of raking now became that of tending and overseeing the piles of burning leaves. This usually occurred after dinner for most families, but one could still see the shimmering waves of heat that protected one from the early evening chill and the ascending ashes rushing upward. Please momentarily forgive my politically incorrect indifference to the environment, but I thoroughly enjoyed those small bonfires near the curb as the pungent smell of burning leaves filled the air. This unmistakable smell would, as I recall, linger in the air for a couple of weeks or more as different neighbors got to the task at different times.

The entire scene embodied the wholesomeness of a 1950s first-grade reading primer, as “Mom” and “Dad,” together with “Dick” and “Jane” (and perhaps “Spot,” the frisky family dog) smilingly cooperated in this joint, familial enterprise. The reading primer would reformulate this “celebration” of healthy work and a neatly ordered environment into a staccato of minimally complex sentences: “See Dad rake”; “Dick and Jane are raking too”; “Here comes mom!” This all served to increase the budding student’s vocabulary while reinforcing a picture of an idealized—if not idyllic—American way of life.

Since my parents were peasants from a Macedonian village, we never quite fit into that particular mold—especially when my mother would speak to me in Macedonian in front of my friends! And yet I distinctly remember teaching my illiterate mother to read from those very “Dick and Jane” primers so that she could obtain her American citizenship papers, which she proudly accomplished in due time.

Before getting too nostalgic, however, I will remind you that this wholesome way of life— something of an urban idyll—was taking place at the height of Cold War anxiety. This, in turn, evokes another clear memory from my youth: the air raid drills in our schools that were meant to prepare us and protect us from a Soviet nuclear strike. (Khrushchev’s shoe-pounding exhibition at the United Nations, together with his ominous “We will bury you!” captured the whole mood of this period.) These carefully executed air raid drills were carried out with due solemnity and seriousness—lines straight and no talking allowed! We would wind our way down into a fairly elaborate—if not labyrinthine—series of basement levels that were seemingly constructed, and thus burdened, with the hopeless task of saving us from nuclear bombs! We would then sit in neatly formed rows monitored by our teachers (apparently oblivious to the real dangers of the Cold War world) until the “all clear” signal was given, allowing us to file back to our classrooms. Thus did the specter of the mushroom cloud darken the sunny skies of “Dick” and “Jane’s” age of innocence.

I must acknowledge that my short nostalgic digression does not offer a great deal for reflection. So as not to entirely frustrate that purpose—and because I began with some brief reflections on the created world—I would like to offer some of the wonderful praises of the beauty of the world around us from the remarkable Akathistos Hymn, “Glory to God for All Things.”

This hymn, which has become quite popular in many Orthodox parishes, is said to have been composed by an Orthodox priest when he was slowly perishing in a Soviet prison camp in 1940. In unscientific, yet theological-poetic imagery, he reminds us of what we are often blind to: God’s glorious creation. Would he have “missed” all of this if his life were as free as ours are to be preoccupied with daily concerns and cares that leave no time or room to look around in wonder?

O Lord, how lovely it is to be Your guest. Breeze full of scents; mountains reaching to the skies; waters like boundless mirrors, reflecting the sun’s golden rays and the scudding clouds. All nature murmurs mysteriously, breathing the depth of tenderness. Birds and beasts of the forest bear the imprint of Your love. Blessed are you, mother earth, in your fleeting loveliness, which wakens our yearning for happiness that will last forever. In the land where, amid beauty that grows not old, rings out the cry: Alleluia! [Kontakion 2].

You have brought me into life as if into an enchanted paradise. We have seen the sky like a chalice of deepest blue, where in the azure heights the birds are singing. We have listened to the soothing murmur of the forest and the melodious music of the streams. We have tasted fruit of fine flavor and the sweet-scented honey. We can live very well on Your earth. It is a pleasure to be Your guest. [Ikos 2].

I see Your heavens resplendent with stars. How glorious You are, radiant with light! Eternity watches me by the rays of the distant stars. I am small, insignificant, but the Lord is at my side. Your right arm guides me wherever I go. [Ikos 5].

His words bring to mind Dostoevsky’s enigmatic phrase: “Beauty will save the world.”

By Archpriest Steven Kostoff (Master of Divinity ’81). Our alumnus Fr. Steven Kostoff, has made education and teaching a central part of his priesthood.

As pastor of Christ the Savior-Holy Spirit Orthodox Church, in Norwood, OH, he has established an annual regimen of insightful studies to nourish and build up his flock: a multi-week Summer Bible Study, a six-week long Fall Adult Education Class, a special Winter Reading Circle in which a work of classic literature is discussed, and an occasional parish-wide discussion event, concentrated for an evening or two on key topics of interest. These are in addition to his classes for catechumens and his burgeoning church school.

Moreover, Fr. Steven is an Adjunct Faculty Member at Xavier University, Cincinnati, OH, where he teaches “The Eastern Orthodox Church”; “Christian Mysticism”; and “The Russian Religious Mind.” (He earned his undergraduate degree at Wayne State University in Russian Studies). And, he is the author of The Divine Liturgy: Meaning, Preparation & Practice (Synaxis Press).

Homily, May 25, 2017

According to the mind of the Church, the Risen Lord is also the Ascended Lord. In the words of Father Georges Florovsky, “In the Ascension resides the meaning and the fullness of Christ’s Resurrection.” Though the visible presence of the Risen Lord ended 40 days after His Resurrection, that did not mean that His actual presence was withdrawn. Christ solemnly taught His disciples—and us through them—“Behold, I am with you always, to the close of the age” [Matthew 28:20]. The risen, ascended and glorified Lord is the Head of His body, the Church. The Lord remains present in the Mysteries/Sacraments of the Church. This reinforces our need to participate in the sacramental life of the Church, especially the Eucharist, through which we receive the deified flesh and blood of the Son of God “unto life everlasting.”

Christ ascended to be seated at “the right hand of the Father” in glory, thus lifting up the human nature He assumed in the Incarnation into the very inner life of God. Once the Son of God became the Son of Man, taking our human nature through suffering and death—”the Passover”—and then rising from the dead and ascending to heaven, at no point in this paschal mystery did He discard or leave His human nature behind. For all eternity, Christ is Theanthropos—God and man. The deified humanity of the Lord is the sign of our future destiny “in Christ.” For this reason, the Apostle Paul could write, “your life is hidden with Christ in God” [Colossians 3:3].

The words of the “two men … in white robes” (clearly angels) who stood by the disciples as they gazed at Christ being “lifted up” as recorded by Saint Luke in Acts 1:11, point toward something very clear and essential for us to grasp as members of the Church who continue to exist within the historical time of the world: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, Who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him go into heaven.” The disciples will remain in the world, and must fulfill their vocation as the chosen apostles who will proclaim the Word of God to the world of the crucified and risen Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. They cannot spend their time gazing into heaven awaiting the return of the Lord. That hour has not been revealed: “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by His own authority” [1:7]. The “work” of the Church is the task set before them, and they must do this until their very last breath. They will carry out this work once they receive the power of the Holy Spirit—the “promise of My Father”—as Christ said to them in Luke 24:49.

Whatever our vocation may be, we too witness to Christ and the work of the Church as we await the fullness of God’s Kingdom according to the times or seasons of the Father. If we believe in the resurrected and ascended Lord, then we are “witnesses” of Him and to Him to the world. That witness may express itself in words or deeds—or both. Of course, we need to follow the teaching of the Apostle Paul who wrote: “Set your minds on things above, not on things that are on earth” [Colossians 3:2]. Yet, keeping our “minds on things above” has nothing to do with escaping into a dream-like fantasy world or the abandonment of earthly responsibilities under the pretext of a vague mystical inclination or “pseudo-piety.” It is about an awareness that the Kingdom of God is “in our midst” and that our earthly life is a preparation for the life to come, a life we are yearning for with our whole heart. It is that awareness that makes all of our earthly struggles and accomplishments meaningful. And when the Apostle Paul teaches us not to set our minds “on things that are on earth,” he does not mean that there is nothing of value that is on earth. He is referring to the “worldliness” of questionable—or clearly sinful—pursuits that draw our minds away inexorably from “things above.” We are prone to forget about heaven when we concentrate solely on the earth. For this reason alone it is so important to develop a life of prayer, a time when we can “set our minds on things above,” strengthening us for the struggles of our daily life, and keeping the Person of Christ ever before our inward gaze.

In our daily Prayer Rule we continue to refrain from using “O Heavenly King” until the Day of Pentecost. We no longer sing the Paschal Troparion, “Christ is risen from the dead,” but replace it from Ascension to Pentecost with the Troparion of the Ascension: “Thou hast ascended in glory, O Christ our God, granting joy to Thy disciples by the promise of the Holy Spirit. Through the Blessing they were assured that Thou art the Son of God, the Redeemer of the world!”

“When Christ who is our life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory” [Colossians 3:4]

Tristan Gall

Father Sergius Halvorsen (Assistant Professor of Homiletics and Rhetoric) and I recently attended the National Festival of Young Preachers in Dallas, TX, which took place the weekend of January  2-5, 2015. I had no idea what to expect when I accepted Fr. Sergius' invitation. At the orientation session, as we sat in a large banquet hall listening to the opening "motivational" homilies, I found myself overwhelmed, intimidated, and outnumbered by the Southern Protestant ethos. Yet I walked away from the festival knowing three things: I saw a lot of effective preaching; I have many more ideas; and I received a crash-course, three-day lesson in contemporary Christian American expression.

The theme for this year's festival was "Tell Me a Story." This theme really enabled us young preachers to incorporate narrative and imagery into our homilies, thereby making them very personal and personable. This theme, mixed with a predominantly Southern American Christian flavor, provided an enthusiastic, colorful, and energetic atmosphere. I was able to witness the responsive and dynamic character of preaching outside of the Orthodox Christian tradition in which I was born and raised. I wondered, "How will listeners respond to my sermon?"—because in content and presentation it differed dramatically from most of the ones I had heard. Although this thought contributed to some anxiety, I was moved by how gentle, kind, and truly Christian people I encountered were throughout my days at the festival.

Our presence at the festival as Orthodox Christians almost always elicited a positive reaction from other preachers. The blessing of meeting a handful of bewildered, inquisitive, surprised, and thirsty preachers ready to hear about the Orthodox faith made my trip all the more worthwhile. Attending the festival also really helped me, especially as a cradle Orthodox, to understand our American culture more deeply. Different groups of people from different socio-economic and cultural backgrounds find meaning in the gospel that resonates with their life history and experience in so many diverse ways. This might be obvious, but it impressed me at a whole new level when I was present at the festival, heard the variety of homilies, and witnessed the reactions of the listeners.

Indeed, it's not every day that an Orthodox seminarian, a Dominican priest, and a Charismatic Protestant Christian sit around a table to share teachings and experiences with one another for hours! 

Tristan Gall is a third-year M.Div. student and a member of Ss. Peter and Paul Orthodox Church in Crossingville, PA. Born in Erie, PA, he earned a Bachelor of Arts, a teaching credential, and a Masters in Education, all from Edinboro University in PA. Before attending seminary, Tristan worked as a first-grade teacher. His fiancée, Mary, is a doctoral student of Ancient Christianity at Yale University. Tristan and Mary plan to tie the knot in the summer of 2015.