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.

John Mikitish

Some of the most famous members of this community are also perhaps some of its least remembered. Physically, they are silent and unmoving. Spiritually, they active here and throughout the world, and their written words resound like trumpets sounding from heaven, calling us to Jesus. Theirs are the loud voices in hearts, crying out and saying: "The kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms of the Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever" (Revelation 11:15.)

And yet they can be visited in the chapel: John Chrysostom, Basil the Great, and Gregory the Theologian; Basil Aleksandrovich Martysh; Ignatius of Antioch; the Great Martyr Panteleimon. Fragments of their relics, minute physical reminders of their spiritual presence, tiny conduits of Christ's grace: every day the seminarian has the opportunity to venerate these small pieces of dead bodies and so encounter, and be confronted by, the life-giving presence of the saints.

Life-giving, indeed, for if Christ is the true Giver of Life, where else can we expect to find that life, apart from in his saints, those in whom he is wonderful, those with whom he shall abide always, even unto the end of the age (cf. Psalm 67:36 and Matthew 28:20)? Yes, as every Christian knows, we are an ecclesial organism, we expect to encounter Christ and serve him in our neighbor, in the community of the Church. But we shouldn't lose sight of the Church beyond the chapel walls, and of our Christian brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, who have gone before us and who now intercede for us, those whose very blood cries out to God on behalf of the whole groaning creation.

For at least one seminarian, this time at St Vladimir's has provided an opportunity to remember these forebears in the faith more than ever, both those who are physically present in their relics and those who are not. On the one hand, there are those I have venerated since before I came: Tikhon of Moscow, Seraphim of Vyritsa, Tikhon of Kaluga, Emperor Justinian, Tsar Nicholas, Alexander Nevsky, and of course my patron, John Chrysostom. But here at the seminary, not only have I deepened these relationships with God's holy ones, but I also have formed new connections as well: some with popular saints like Luke of Simferopol, but others with more controversial saints like Peter Mogila, Cyril Loukaris, and Nicodemus the Hagiorite.

There are some of whom I had never heard before, such as Alexis of Zosima Hermitage, and then there are some to whom I had never paid sufficient attention, such as the Evangelists Matthew and Luke. And then there are the newly canonized saints: Elder Porphyrius is rightly known by all, but what of Bartholomew of Chichirin, canonized one week ago, and of the Righteous Dmitrii Gorskii and the Blessed Parasceva, glorified in October? May we each have their prayers.

Yes, the saints are there, in the chapel, in their reliquaries, ready to help and guide each of us, ready to be encountered. But they are also there whose relics we don't have, whose bodies are long gone to dust. Indeed, a multitude of saints are present with us at every place and in every hour, if we open our spiritual eyes and turn to them in prayer. Sometimes they comfort us, and sometimes they confront us with our sins. But there is one constant, and that is he to whom they lead us, he whom they make present for us: none other than our Lord and God Jesus Christ, the Savior of us all. To him be glory forever. Amen.

John Max Mikitish is a second-year M.Div. student at St Vladimir's Seminary and a member of Holy Transfiguration Orthodox Church in New Haven, CT. Born in Alabama, he graduated from Yale with a B.A. in Russian and East European Studies. He will be married in January 2015, and his soon-to-be wife is also a Yale graduate and a member of the same parish.

Lijin Raju

...What am I supposed to do with this all?

St. Vladimir's Seminary is a challenging environment, and yet as I step back and think about why I'm here, I am inspired and motivated to continue and finish strong. I grew up in a clergy household with parents who exemplified such genuine selflessness and love that it gave me a foretaste of God’s unconditional love. They illustrated to me that the word "serve" doesn’t have to be limited to a mission trip or the parish. Regardless of the time or place, they live a life ready to serve the Lord and His people.

In high school, God planted in me the desire to come to seminary to gain more knowledge. Even though it was a result of envying my dad because he knew all the answers to my questions, I believe this desire was sent by God. As the years passed by, I started seeing a need in our Church for lay leadership and guidance for many young Orthodox Christians, especially those in college. Thus, my reason for a theological education changed from how seminary can serve me, to how seminary can prepare me to serve the larger community.

People often don’t understand why I’m in seminary. “What’re you going to do with a theology degree?” “Are you trying to be a priest?” “You’re wasting your years. You need to get married soon!” “Are you going to be a nun?” I have learned to smile at these questions, and they provide me with motivation to keep moving forward. 

One's expectations of what seminary life is like, are guaranteed to be debunked. I have struggled on a much deeper level than ever before, and have discovered that I must overcome difficulties through the power of God rather than through willpower. I have wrestled with managing time and balancing school, church, and my personal life. It sometimes seemed as if no matter how hard I worked, I never felt satisfied.

In the process, I came to learn it’s not about finding time to write the perfect paper, or obtain perfect grades.When I started focusing more on drawing closer to God, I began to achieve balance between  my course load, friendships, and lay leadership responsibilities. I learned that the purpose of seminary is not to absorb all the knowledge the Church has to offer, but to learn the right approach for handling any situation that arises in life and ministry.

God has opened up more doors than I ever imagined. The Holy Synod gave me the opportunity to be one of the seven delegates of the Malankara Orthodox Syrian Church for the Assembly of the World Council of Churches in Korea in 2013. This was such an enlightening experience; I was able to both see the impact of Christianity on a global level and meet inspiring Christian dignitaries from around the world, including St. Vladimir’s alumni. It was even more incredible to see the delegates of both Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Churches sitting in one room as a unit for a session. My group sessions in Korea taught me it is not uniformity that glorifies God, rather unity in Christ.

Thanks to seminary, I have strengthened my foundation in theology and acquired skills to help me as I plan to get my Masters in Social Work. I hope to incorporate my degrees in psychology and theology into social work. God has painted a clearer picture for me as I continue on this journey in serving Him and His people.

As I near my last term at St. Vladimir's, I am exceedingly thankful: thankful to God for knowledge, lifelong friendships, my professors and mentors, confidence to lead conferences and retreats, continuous support and prayers of others, the challenges, the all nighters for papers and finals, the pumpkin carving night, ladies’ nights, prison ministry, Chef Nat’s amazing food, and last but definitely not least, my formation. I thought seminary was breaking me down by physically, mentally, and spiritually challenging me. As time progressed, I saw that it was a source of healing for my soul. Father John Behr’s words from orientation have stayed with me. I have come to understand that, “[I] am not here to find [myself] but to find Christ.”

Lijin Hannah Raju is in her second year of the Master of Arts program at St. Vladimir's Seminary. She is a part of the Malankara Orthodox Syrian Church and comes from Dallas, Texas. Lijin holds a B.S. in Psychology, and hopes to pursue a Masters in Social Work after seminary and pursue a career as a social worker. Combining theology and psychology, she also looks forward to working with the youth of the Malankara Church to help bring a better understanding of Orthodoxy and to encourage an Orthodox way of life in all aspects.When she is not stressing about classes, Lijin loves to spend time and laugh with family and friends. Three of her favorite activities are playing football, trying good food, and making room for dessert. 

Seraphim Long

When I reflect on my journey as a seminarian one word looms in the background of my story — transfiguration.  I count myself as one twice converted; first to church in general, and then to the Orthodox Church. Change is a constant theme and in the Orthodox spiritual life that is a good thing! Like so many of our seminarians I came to the Orthodox Church after a great deal of disillusionment with secular living and subsequent searching. I wanted something that made a difference in my hollow life — transfiguration.

The existential anxieties of our age have become almost cliché now, but I make no apologies for framing my faith journey in these terms. After all, we often have to look into ourselves to see how much we need Christ. Only then, can we begin the Christian journey of focusing and dedicating the whole of our selves to Him — transfiguration. It was precisely my drive to draw near to Christ that led me to specialize in the field of Christian Spirituality during my undergraduate studies. Engaging this field from a historical perspective quite naturally lead me to the Orthodox Church. At one point I found myself saying to a friend: “It seems to me that if I become Orthodox I will experience Christ with a depth that I won’t find anywhere else.” Everything in our tradition from Liturgy, to iconography, from ascetical writings to the lives of the saints, invites us to contemplate the reality of Christ, a reality that is radically transformative.

I came to St. Vladimir’s to pursue ordination for precisely this reason; a conviction that Christ brings about the change we all need both as individuals and communities. I see a broken world in need of healing, a despairing world in need of hope, a world wrapped in darkness in need of light, a dying world in need of new life. Christ is all these things and more. Everything we do at seminary revolves around Christ. We contemplate Him in the Eucharist, in the Scriptures, in prayerful silence, and in neighborly love. It is this vision that is continually changing our lives — transfiguration.

So like my fellow classmates I came to seminary simply because of my love for Christ and His holy Church. I came because of this unique beauty has forever changed my life and there is a burden in my heart to share this Beauty with others. But seminary is a place of planting seeds. The tree has yet to grow, mature, blossom and bear fruit. The challenge while being in school is to continually respond to life in ways that cause me to grow in Christ. There are many great people here to befriend, many beautiful liturgies to attend, many profound books to read, and there is the constant danger of growing acclimated to such things.

As the old saying goes, familiarity breeds contempt. A seminarian must remain awake, alive and watchful. We must look at all that we do as a means of meeting Christ, as a potential moment for transfiguration.  

My hope and prayer for myself and my classmates is that we will come out of seminary as changed people, molded as clay in the hands of God. That the seeds of Christ planted in us will bear fruit because we have been faithful to water them. I have every confidence that this will be the case as long as our focus remains on Christ.  I say this because I know Christ is always about one thing — transfiguration.

Stephen “Seraphim” Long is a second year Master of Divinity student who converted to Eastern Orthodoxy through his studies of early Christian spirituality. He has worked for over ten years in youth ministry and remains passionate about education within the Church. Currently he is chair of the student society for Christian missions, a member of the SVOTS Student Council, and a dedicated dish-washer in the kitchen. He hopes to serve the Church as a “learned hieromonk” after graduation.

The Orthodox Church in Norway is a tiny community in a predominantly secular and Lutheran country. Most of our parishes are mission churches and there are only a very few established churches. By coming to the United States and St. Vladimir’s Seminary, I hoped that my family and I would get a broader experience of the Orthodox Church, in a culture similar to our own. 

There is of course a lot one can learn through reading books and attending classes, but the proper forging of an Orthodox identity and worldview requires being in relationship  with others, and living in community, together with immersion in the services of the Church. One of the most important ways of learning to know our faith better has simply been just through living together with our Orthodox brothers and sisters in the St. Vladimir's community.

After seminary we plan to go back home to Norway and serve the Church there. We came to the faith through a small mission and we are most likely going to return back home to one as well. We were therefore very fortunate this summer to expand our exposure to mission work in two very different and dynamic parishes with the Orthodox Church in America (OCA); one in the Diocese of the South, in Beaufort, South Carolina, and the other one in the Diocese of the West, in San Diego, California. Both missions were started less than four years ago and are already thriving and expanding.

Beaufort, South Carolina, is a lovely town. We easily grew accustomed to the pace and way of life in the South. The community of St. James Orthodox Church was very welcoming to us and treated us as family members from our first day there. We were warmly invited to dinners and social events, and a very generous family opened up their home so we'd have a place to live our entire month there.

I also was able to spend a lot of time with Fr. James Bozeman (SVOTS 2012), rector of the parish, helping him out with parish affairs. Summertime is quiet and we had less pressing pastoral work than is normally the case, but that gave us all the more time to talk about mission life, and do more manual and administrative work. Thankfully we also got some welcome time to relax (St. Vladimir's Seminary is very busy!), see the surroundings, and go to the beach.

Through the long talks Fr. James and I had together, discussing the life of a mission, priestly formation, and other issues related to ministry and life in the Church, we found that we shared some of the same experiences and background. We were also able to visit a few other churches and priests, and all this broadened my sense of ministry in the Church, offering me a unique perspective on the ways a mission can be grown.

In San Diego we spent three weeks with alumnus Fr. Andrew Cuneo (SVOTS 2010) and the community of St. Katherine of Alexandria Orthodox Mission. Father Andrew kept us busy. In addition to doing regular parish business, such as serving, preaching, visiting parishioners and so forth, he also wanted us to take us around to visit clergy, parishes, and monasteries in the area. One of the many highlights of our time in California was visiting the Holy Virgin Cathedral, Joy of all Who Sorrow in San Francisco, where the relics of St. John Maximovich are kept and venerated. 

Both internships complemented each other in a great way. We saw the inside of a mission to a greater extent in Beaufort than in San Diego, but experienced a wider range of church life in California. I also utilized many of the skills that we’ve learned so far in seminary, as I was serving as well as preaching. Many services and feasts were celebrated, baptisms were held, reflections given and catechism classes taught, plus some administrative work.

We were very grateful for this opportunity to serve in the Diocese of the South and the Diocese of the West this summer, and want to extend our gratitude to all those who enabled us to go. 

Deacon Theodor (Tor) Svane, ordained in May of 2014, is the Student Council President and a third year seminarian from Bergen, Norway. The Svanes are under the The Patriarchal Exarchate for Orthodox Parishes of Russian Tradition in Western Europe, with Archbishop Job (Getcha). Before coming to seminary he worked as a civil engineer in a major consultant firm in Norway. His wife Hanne is a cultural anthropologist and taught intercultural communications at a college. Simon (4) is the center of the family, gives them great joy, and keeps them busy.