So far this morning

I have:

+ gotten up [This was an Accomplishment]
+ gotten dressed and all that jazz
+ said prayers
+ had my tea and a quarter of a tomato for breakfast [I don't really do traditional breakfasts]
+ poked about online [really interesting articles on singleness/Christian relationships HERE and HERE and about contests HERE and HERE]
+ finished a homework assignment
+ washed the dishes
+ started lunch warming up

Now I'm listening to Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. :)

It's the Nativity of the Theotokos today, Old Style. I...didn't really do anything beyond singing the Troparion and Kontakion.

I've still got lots of homework to take care of and Things to Do today.

The Transfiguration

Today is the Old Calendar feast of the Transfiguration, when Christ went on Mount Tabor with Peter, James, and John and shone like the sun. I didn't make it to church this morning because I haven't been sleeping well (which is such a terrible excuse). But I did the first canon for the feast this morning--it reminded me that even when I'm not in a parish situation (i.e., when I go back to school) I can still do things.

"When Thou was transfigured on Mount Tabor, O Christ Our God, Thou didst show Thy glory to Thy disciples as far as they could bear it. Let Thy everlasting light illumine also us sinners, through the intercessions of the Mother of God. Giver of Light, glory to Thee!" (Troparion of the feast)

I have a lot planned for today--hopefully it will be a productive and blessed one.

Small pleasures

[As an aside, before the actual post, I haven't been responding to comments recently. I'm so sorry about that! I really try to make it a point to respond to each, but this summer has been a strange one in terms of online activity and one of the things to get cut has been responses. Fall should see me returning to more regular posting and commenting habits.]

We had a glorious storm yesterday. Everything was turned to slate blue and green and grey. And the air was so full of the smell of rain. There's a great exultation in a really good storm that makes me go all Bronte--want to run outside and stand in it. Or maybe I mean Marianne Dashwood. I didn't, but I wanted to.

Instead I went down to the church bookstore and kept it open, although no one came but delivery men. Mused on the similarity of the bookstore to a fortress against the storm and the fittingness of the same. Connected it to Ely Cathedral--the Ship of the Fens. And then felt slightly embarrassed over the ramblings and Elizabeth Goudge-ness of it all.

The storm is gone this morning and it's currently sunny. I'm eating a fasting burrito (lettice, walnuts, onions, refried beans and salsa) and considering a Course of Action. I'm hoping today will be a good writing day (I've been revising my 2007 NaNoWriMo novel) but if it's going to be, I have to actually sit down and do it.

This has strayed a bit far from the title, hasn't it? The storm is a pleasure, the burrito is a pleasure. The writing is sometimes a pleasure, but most of the time it's just hard work. Harriet Vane and Lord Peter are a pleasure, but not a simple one. On the contrary, they seem to grow in complexity every time I re-read the wonder that is Gaudy Night. Which I did recently, in case you couldn't tell.

In which we travel to Chicago, perform a Winnie-the-Pooh skit, get sick, and have a grand time

[I should never promise to post anything because somehow it never happens]

Two Fridays ago, four of us drove from Indianapolis to Chicago. The three girls were in a car and John M. drove the bus. Our goal? The 9th annual My Life in Christ Youth Conference, hosted by the Bulgarian Diocese. We had never been in Chicago before, or at a Bulgarian parish (as opposed to an American convert parish) so there were lots of questions and unknowns.

Our drive up was largely uneventful except for a) construction on I 65 which delayed us by about 30 minutes b) the first toll outside of Chicago when the car went through an I-Pass lane without realizing it. We looked back and there was the bus, off in a different area. We spent several minutes trying to figure out where John was going and what route he might have been taking only to discover, when we called him, that he was being a good law-abiding citizen and paying the toll while we were being illegal and driving through the I-Pass lane. Whoops. [She later payed the toll online.]

The first weekend was spent finishing the conference planning (!). As usual, we had a great group of young men and women for staff members. This year felt particularly blessed as we grew together in Christ. Stephanie K's fiance, whom none of us knew very well, was there and was a wonderful addition to our group. Knowing him better helps us be happy about their marriage instead of apprehensive and he's just a great guy in general.

On Monday the other conference attendees began arriving. The first ones came in at 5 am. Our main speaker for the week was Fr. Moses Berry, an African-American priest who spoke about his family history and his own journey to Christianity and finally Orthodoxy. We all agreed that he's the best speaker we've ever had. Fr. Patrick Tishel also gave a talk on the foundations of the spiritual life, which I found very helpful, mostly because it was so concrete, as opposed to vague and theoretical.

The week was full of music. It always is, but this year even more so than usual. Barbershop quartets sprang up out of nowhere, dish washing turned into an opportunity to pull out old folk song favorites. The question of whether she's the belle of Dublin or Belfast was hotly debated.

The talent show, which is often a difficult area for me, was great. Very much on the short side, compared to the 3 hour marathon we had a few years ago. Some of the staff and a few others did a Winnie-the-Pooh skit which was so much fun! I was Eeyore. Kathryn and Mara and I had come up with most of the casting and it was really inspired.

Towards the end of the conference we were all getting sick. On Friday, Popadija Junia estimated the ill count to be about 20. After the end of the conference it's risen to at least 33. And of those 33, several have been told by their doctors that they probably have swine flu but no one's testing for it anymore so they can't say positively. But apparently it's the only type of flu going around at the moment. We are distressed. What good is it being sick if you can't get some news coverage out of it? I personally believe that I have the other strain that went around--a virus but not the flu virust at all.

Anyway, the conference was one of the best, in my opinion, even though we had to work with severe space and facility limitations. We really pulled together as a group and the spirit felt so much more unified than it has in past years. It was truly a blessing for me.

And then after the conference, some of the staff stayed an extra night and we went out to dinner and got stuffed animals form a claw machine. Mine is bright green and named Kiwi. Stefanida and John M went back in the bus on Sunday night and Kathryn and I drove back to Indy Monday, having stopped at the church to pick up John's drill charger which he accidentally left there. We arrived in time for dinner. After dinner John and Kathryn went back to Ohio by separate routes and the conference really and truly ended.

I can't wait for next year!

From death to life and from earth to heaven

It's already dark when we gather in the cavernous church. A few candles punctuate the shadows. We are hushed, exhausted after our long vigil. Friday's mourning services and Saturday's long service and preparations have taken their toll. Like the myrrhbearing women we have gathered before the tomb of Christ. Unlike them, we know the story and in our hearts the first thrills of expectant joy begin to stir.

At midnight all the lights in the church are extinguished. We stand together in the darkness, waiting. Time slips away and none of us could say how long until the first glimmer of light appears. Dancing across the ceiling above the altar, it is the first sign that the event we are all waiting for has come to pass. The clergy begin to sing one of the great hymns:

Thy Resurrection, O Christ our Saviour, the angels in heaven sing. Enable us on earth to glorify Thee in purity of heart.

Quietly at first and then with more and more strength until, still singing, they come out with lit candles. We hold our own to out to them and in a few moments the church is a blaze of light and song.



We process around the outside of the church. Our candles usually go out at least once and in the middle of the night the air is sharp. Our singing is a little breathless, but heartfelt nonetheless. As we return to the front door we re-light our candles from our neighbors'. Then the clergy sing for the first time the greatest hymn:

Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and upon those in the tomb bestowing life.

As we enter the church suddenly everything is bright and full of flowers. The miracle has happened. Christ has triumphed over death and sin. We go through the rest of the service, pausing to cry out, "Christ is risen!" and to hear the answering, "In truth He is risen!"

Then, because we are Orthodox, we have a feast. Our whole being is rejoicing.

In the early hours of the morning we make our way home. We are even more exhausted but there is a smile on our lips and song in our hearts because the Day of Days has once more come and our Lord is Risen.

Originally published on the IDD blog.

Lent

We're beginning Lent today. I suppose in a sense we began it last night, with Forgiveness Vespers and the first reading of the Prayer of St. Ephraim. But this morning is the first Lenten morning.

I'm trying to figure out ways to observe the season of Lent without observing the Fast entirely. (That is, not completely abstaining from meat and dairy.) While ideally I would be doing both, this year it's just not practical to try to observe the Fast all the time. I will be trying to eat smaller portions and also trying to avoid meat.

I'd like to take this opportunity to ask all of you to forgive me if I've offended or wounded you in the past year. Forgive me a sinner!

Christ is born!

Glorify Him!


Troparion and Kontakion (hymns) for Nativity

Thy Nativity, O Christ our God, has shone upon the world as a light of wisdom, for by it those who worshipped the stars were taught by a star to adore Thee, the Sun of Righteousness and to know Thee, the Orient from on high. O Lord, glory to Thee.

Today the Virgin gives birth to the Transcendent One and the earth offers a cave to the Unapproachable One. Angels and shepherds glorify Him; the wise men journey with a star. For to us is born a young Child, the pre-eternal God.

St. Herman's day

Today old calender Orthodox Christians, like myself and my family, celebrate the feast of St. Herman of Alaska, one of the first and greatest Orthodox missionaries to America. There is lots of good information out there on his life and contributions to Orthodoxy, so I won't go on about that. If you're interested, I'm sure OrthodoxWiki would be a good place to start.

I've been thinking about a couple of things though. First, I'm glad that we American old calender Orthodox have something to celebrate today. With most of the country and lots of the world celebrating Christ's birth, it can get a little lonely over here in our corner. But we can celebrate St. Herman and his life and works.

Second, I'm very glad that Orthodoxy has such a good track record as missionaries. Orthodoxy has always been very respectful of indigenous cultures and ideas. While we don't bend the truth, we do adapt customs. And I think that's a very healthy thing. We have to spread the word of God, certainly. But we have to spread it with understanding and love, not with the sword and threat of violence or with blind disregard for the people who are supposed to receive it, as has all too often been done. St. Herman, like all Orthodox missionaries I know, was respectful and loving. Even today, the Alaska natives talk about him with love and honor. I read once that for them, to be an Alaska native is to be Orthodox. That says something to me about the success of St. Herman's mission.

At any rate, while most of the world is opening presents and eating turkey or ham and such, we'll be having fish. And maybe later on we'll watch a slide show of the Alaska wilderness where St. Herman spent most of his life.

Today, I'm thankful for what I've been given.

A quote

“I didn’t become a Christian because somebody with a Bible badgered me till I was worn down. I wasn’t persuaded by the logic of Christian theology or its creeds. I met Christ. This was, at the time, a big surprise, and pretty disconcerting.” At the Corner of East and Now by Frederica Mathewes-Green, p. 3

Update on prayer request

Thank you all for your prayers! Both the monks and nuns have returned home, the monasteries having been spared from the fires. Here is the text of Fr. Damascene's last letter:

Your Grace, Bless, Master!

Thanks be to God, we just heard that the nuns are returning to St. Xenia Skete today. The fires in their area are now more under control, and those in our area are almost all put out. Today a fire crew walked along the top of our ridge with Monk Nicolas, to check for and put out spot fires. Over the past few days, we learned more from the fire crews about what happened at our monastery during our evacuation. It turns out that the monastery had been in even greater danger than we first thought on returning to it on Monday. The captain of one of the fire crews said that they had not done back-fires on the ridge directly above our monastery; they had only done a back-fire on the western side of the mountain, along western side of the road leading down from the monastery to the town of Platina. This means that the fire at the top of our ridge was not a controlled back-fire, but the actual wildfire that came shooting from the gorge to the southeast. The fire captain said that, when the wildfire reached the top of the ridge, the flames were up to 30 feet in the air. The fire crew thought that the fire might well jump the fire break they had created, igniting the upper branches of the trees on the other side. If that had happened, they would not have been able to stop the fire from going down the other side of the ridge and engulfing the monastery. By the Grace of God, and through the prayers of the faithful, the fire did not catch the upper part of the trees on the monastery side of the fire break. However, at the very top of the ridge, at Transfiguration Skete, some cinders from the fire started a ground fire on the monastery side, burning up the fallen leaves and the bottom of the trees for 50-75 yards. The firefighters were able to stop this fire when it got as close as 50 yards from the "Valaam" cell. Thus, they were able to save all the buildings -- just barely. It is amazing to see how close we came to losing the monastery to the fire, and it is both inspiring and humbling to see how God clearly showed His mercy by stopping it just in time. On the morning of the evacuation (Tuesday, June 11/24), I went to our Mt. Athos "skete" atop our ridge, blessing the area with holy water and singing hymns to the Mother of God, asking her to protect the monastery. I placed an "Axion Estin" icon of her, which was commemorated that day, on top of the altar table at "Mt. Athos," praying that she would not let the fire past that point. When I went to "Mt. Athos" after we had returned to the monastery, I found that the icon had fallen off the altar table, but that both the icon and the altar table were totally unharmed. The Mt. Athos skete was not on the monastery side of the fire break, but on the other side, where the wildfire was. The wildfire scorched the area around the altar table and the icon, leaving charcoal debris all around, and stopped right at the edge of the table. Also, the cross along the road past our monastery was totally unharmed, but the wooden bench right next to it had been burnt up by the fire. Such are little indications to us of the heavenly protection that our monastery received from our Lord Jesus Christ and His Most Holy Mother. Asking Your Archpastoral blessings and prayers, In Christ, hieromonk Damascene

Prayer request

This is really several days late, but I want to ask for your prayers for the St. Herman's Monastery in Platina, CA and the St. Xenia's Monastery in Wildwood, CA. Both monasteries have been evacuated as a result of forest fires. The monks (St. Herman's) and nuns (St. Xenia's) are staying in Redding. This is a very anxious time for all of them, as they wait for the fires to be contained and hope that their monasteries remain safe. In addition, Fr. Gerasim, the abbot of St. Herman's is in Ecuador at the moment and could not be reached until several days after the monks were evacuated.

As far as we know, the situation is not as serious as it was on Friday and Saturday, but remains very worrisome.

You can find updates at the Serbian Diocese Website.

Signs

There's a church near our house that has a handpainted sign by the side of the highway that says in big letters THE WAGES OF SIN ARE DEATH and underneath, in much smaller letters it says But Christ died to save sinners.

They've got it backwards.

I mean, sure, the wages of sin are death. But that's not important. The important part is the love of God which led Christ to die to save sinners. That's what we should be proclaiming--the Love of God, not the fallen-ness of man.

We cannot find salvation, we cannot achieve perfection by fear of hell. We can only find it through love of God and by His grace.

Palm Sunday

It's Orthodox Palm Sunday, in case you didn't know, and I'm not at church because of schoolwork. (There's no church in the town where I go to school--I have to go home to go.) And I just feel very discouraged about the fact that I didn't share Palm Sunday with anyone. It's not that I feel guilty because part of the reason I didn't go home this weekend was so I could go home next weekend for Pascha (Easter). But still. I've spent too much time without a community already. At the same time, I feel very strongly that God put me at my school and I love it, so I can't see myself leaving. And I know I would be miserable at home with my family. That's just the way things are. It's still hard to realize that we moved 3,000 miles away from everyone we knew so we could have a community and then here I am without one. I feel alone. I know that God is always with me, and the Mother of God and the saints and angels as well. But I've also messed up a lot this Lent. I haven't followed the fast strictly--again, not entirely my fault because my body needs protein and the dining hall here does not know how to serve vegetarian meals with protein in them--and I've slacked off on all of the spiritual things I was going to do. It leaves me with this feeling that I don't have any fruits to bring for the past 40 days. And that's both sad and scary to me.

I know that things will probably get better and I'm partly stressed about school because I always feel like I'm slipping behind. And the weather has stayed cold and grey far later than it was supposed to--we had snow, rain, and hail yesterday. And my situation is what it is. But all the same I can't help feeling like there's something wrong.