Category: Uncategorized

6:30pm Wed, Mar 29:

Presanctified Liturgy

6:30pm Thu, Mar 30:

Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete (complete) with the Life of St. Mary of Egypt

In catechumen class today my attention was drawn to “The Dream of the Rood“, one of the oldest extant works of Old English literature which I’m sure I’ve read about at some point in my study of English literature, but which I’d never actually read. So, when I found a modern English translation of it online, I read it, and was struck by both its beauty and by the way it addresses the cross directly, just as does our own “Akathist to the Spiritual Ladder, the Precious Cross“.

In fact, while I haven’t thoroughly analyzed the theology of “The Dream of the Rood”, I actually found I preferred it to “our” akathist (I put “our” in quotation marks here because, given the very pre-schism date of “The Dream of the Rood”, it potentially has just as much claim to being part of our tradition as the Akathist does), mainly because where the Akathist stays true to form and calls upon the cross to rejoice (as is common to the refrain in all akathists), “The Dream of the Rood” portrays the cross as having a much more nuanced and conflicted view of its having become the means of our Lord’s victory over sin and death on our behalf:

Then I saw mankind’s Lord come with great courage when he would mount on me. Then dared I not against the Lord’s word bend or break, when I saw earth’s fields shake. All fiends I could have felled, but I stood fast.

The common theme here of addressing an inanimate object (as Paul does when he exclaims, “O grave, where is your victory?”) ties into what we noted in today’s sermon, in that, as followers of Christ, we can no longer consider the cross apart from what our Lord accomplished on it – and it is this that transforms it, for us, from a terrible instrument of torture into the very means of our salvation. It is as we take up our own cross daily and follow Christ that we are working out our own salvation in fear and trembling, and it is this inextricable association between the cross and what Christ accomplished by it that elicits our response to honour it and even to embrace it as the ultimate symbol of our Lord’s (and, by association, of our own) ultimate triumph over sin and death.

As the Akathist says,

Seeing the strange wonder, let us live our life as strangers, lifting our minds up to heaven, for this reason was Christ affixed to the Cross, and suffered in the flesh having willed to draw to the heights them that cry to it: Alleluia!

We are all on a journey: an ancient journey, full of perils.
We travel together for safety, and our companions, chosen or haphazard, largely determine our experience of our travel,
Except for two unalterable truths…
Everything changes, nothing stays the same.
No one can ever go back the way they came.
And, like all journeys, the ultimate significance of our endeavours depends largely upon our intended destination
And on our intended purpose, once we get there:
Are we some rough beast, slouching towards Bethlehem to be born?
Or are we a vulnerable young mother,
Voluntarily submitting ourselves to the pains of travel and the labour of childbirth
To do our part to help provide a body for and to bring into the world the Christ-child?
And, if the latter, our journey does not end at Bethlehem.
For, once we have so participated in His embodiment, we have chosen, and been chosen, to go further:
To go as far as needed, to continue the journey as long as we are needed
To protect and nurture and bring up Him who has chosen to be born of us
In the humiliation of the stable:
the helpless saviour of the world, the Prince of Peace.
Christ is born!
May we, with our souls and our bodies – our entire beings, throughout our entire journey –
Glorify Him.

Christmas is coming… and so is Theophany! Since our custom is for the priest to take a bit of “time off” after Christmas (consisting largely of not doing Wednesday services), and Christmas is slightly different, here’s the list of services coming up:

• Dec 24, 6:00pm: Christmas Eve Vigil (usually a bit over two hours long)
• Dec 25, 9:00am: Christmas Liturgy (starting at 9am sharp, no Hours; usually about an hour-and-a-half, followed by a Christmas feast for any who can stay)
• Dec 28: NO Compline!
• Dec 31, 6:00pm: Great Vespers (as usual)
• Jan 1, 9:00am: Hours and Liturgy of St. Basil the Great
• Jan 4: NO Compline!
• Jan 5, 6:30pm: Vesperal Liturgy and Great Blessing of Waters (indoor) for Theophany
• Jan 7, 6:00pm: Great Vespers
• Jan 8, 9:00am: Hours and Liturgy, followed by the Great Blessing of the Waters (outdoor)

And, speaking of the Great Blessing of the Waters, here’s a short piece that Mike McCardell did when he happened to run across us blessing the waters at Kits Beach in 2012: https://youtu.be/7TYH6voSQb0

Finally, calendars are here! Many thanks to Zane, of Ancient Burials, for providing them for us (in a wonderfully timely manner) this year!

My young daughter is trying to teach my youngest how to count. “There are two carrots.”

My youngest: “Three carrots!”

“No, two carrots. One, two.”

My youngest, cheerfully and enthusiastically: “Three carrots!”

Teaching, like parenting, is a frustrating occupation!

One of the challenges common to both parents and teachers, but which is even more challenging for parents than it is for teachers, is the challenge, as one’s children grow up, of treating them as independent adults – and even, occasionally, as our own teachers. Yes, good parents are always learning from their children, but it is a rare thing for a parent to be able to accept direct instruction, or even correction, from someone whom they have toilet-trained. This is the basic human reality behind my most common advice to parishioners struggling with their relationship with their parents: Don’t try to change them – it’s not your job and it rarely does anything other than further undermine an already problematic relationship.

So it is interesting that our first glimpse of “the mother of Jesus” in the Gospel of John reveals her holy response to her son’s correction. “They have no wine,” she tells him at the wedding at Cana. “Woman,” he addresses her formally but respectfully, “what has that to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” Mary does not “pull rank” on Jesus – does not correct him or object or rebuke him. She humbly accepts her son’s correction and turns simply to the servants and tells them, “Do whatever he tells you.”

Mary, “the mother of Jesus”, was the first Christian: the first one to trust in her son, Jesus, as the Messiah, her saviour and Lord. Throughout her life, she treasured in her heart the things she observed about him, and after his death and resurrection she was always to be found in the midst of his Church, praying to him for them all.

And her love and faithfulness were not forgotten. As God did not abandon his Holy One to the grave, so tradition tells us that our Lord did not abandon his mother to the grave upon her “falling asleep”, but raised her up from the grave bodily as the “first-fruits”, as a promise to all those of us who follow her in following him, as the ultimate confirmation of his divine-human love for his own beloved mother “after the flesh.”

In this feast of the Dormition of the Theotokos, then, we remember Mary, the mother of Jesus, who, as his mother, served him, and, though his mother, learned from him, and, as his follower, teaches us to pray to him, and, as his first follower, was the first to be raised by him. Most Holy Theotokos, pray to God for us!