As a first–year Master of Arts (M.A.) student at SVOTS, I sing soprano in the mixed choir, am treasurer of the Orthodox Ecology Group on campus, and am especially enjoying the Patristics course that I am taking this semester. I am also the lone Byzantine Catholic student of St. Vladimir's Seminary.

When I first arrived on campus this fall, this made for some slightly awkward discussions as my fellow students incrementally figured it out: "So, where are you from?"

"Harrisburg, Pennsylvania."

"Oh, I think I know the priest there. What's his name again?"

Then, the big revelation: "Actually, I go to the church across the street from that parish—I'm Byzantine Catholic."

Gulp. During my first days here, I would hold my breath after answering these kinds of questions, waiting to see how my classmates would respond. I was, after all, an Eastern Catholic studying at an Orthodox seminary (which makes me a bit of an oddity). After a week or so, my initial trepidation waned and I could breathe easier, because everyone here met me with love.

Gabrielle Kushlan

The students and staff here at the Seminary universally welcomed me with friendly solicitude and curiosity. Some differences remain evident—for example, I go to Divine Liturgy elsewhere on Sunday, and Lent started much earlier for me—but in everyday life at the Seminary these divergences seem very small. My fellow students and I eat together in the refectory, worry about our Greek quizzes together, struggle through those Thursday night choir rehearsals side by side, and pray together at weekday Matins and Vespers. When Hurricane Sandy hit the campus this past October, knocking out the electricity, many of us congregated in our dorm's Common Room, singing songs by candlelight and cooperating to contrive ways to make hot coffee in the morning.

These and many other moments helped to unite our class, bringing us together in communal life without obscuring our diversity. We come from the East Coast, West Coast, and all over the world, from differing jurisdictions, and some of us even from Oriental Orthodox or Eastern Catholic churches. But in one way or another we are all here because we want to serve Christ's Church and know that St. Vladimir's is an ideal place to come and be formed for this service. It is a great blessing to have the chance to be here together, to pray together daily, talk about our faith in Christ, and reassure each other in our dedication to serve Him. The fact that we come from different churches which are not in communion becomes—for me at least—an ever–present reminder of the heartache of schism: that we are separated from our brothers and sisters whom we love. In communal life, day–to–day interactions help to free us from stock images of each other, so that when we do discuss our differences and divisions, we are prepared to do so from the perspective of friends, of brothers and sisters in Christ.

Time at seminary flies by quickly, and soon enough we will all be spread out again across far distances and different jurisdictions. I trust, though, that these friendships that we have built will endure long past graduation and will serve as a reminder of those who are separated from us and our common love for Christ's Church. 

Jabra Tannous

A first–year student reflects on his start in seminary, and on Sandy's impact.

I was called to attend St. Vladimir's Seminary to study for the priesthood when I was 14 years old, when my priest Fr. Boniface Black suggested the idea to me. The thought remained in the back of my mind and eventually penetrated my heart. The turning point came years later when one Sunday, while serving in the altar, I looked first at the priest, Fr. Anthony Baba, and then at the altar boys. As my eyes vacillated between them, I realized for the first time that I looked more like the priest than the altar boys, and that it was time for me to attend seminary!

Arriving here, I learned that we all initially embarked on this new journey of study and service for many different reasons. Yet whatever the reasons that brought us here, we quickly discovered that Saint Vladimir's is a place that will prepare us for our future lives in Christ's Church. From the first week of classes on, we were regularly reminded that Christ is the foundation of our life here, and that our time is His. The emphasis, we were told, is on our daily formation. We began to participate in a steady routine of study, service, and worship, which most of us had not been accustomed to in our former lives.

We found out that it is a challenge to wake in the morning and remember Him, it is a challenge to remember Him during the day's routine, it is a challenge to go to rest at night and remember Him still. Saint Vladimir's reinforced this approach to life, by being a place where we were encouraged to remember Him always.

By the time a few months passed, most of us had adjusted to the daily life cycle, and had seen growth in many aspects of our personalities. We had been stretched spiritually, mentally, physically, and emotionally. We were immersed in an incredibly busy schedule of study, prayer, and work. We'd learned to diligently attend classes, write papers, and read books. We were beginning to feel relatively comfortable.

Then Hurricane Sandy hit, and we discovered many new things about ourselves that were difficult to admit. We had become accustomed to having light at night, hot showers in the morning, a regular prayer cycle, and daily classes, but when the power went out for many consecutive days and nights, we felt powerless in more ways than one. Our routine, which was challenging to adjust to initially, was now the routine that we desperately desired. We lost two weeks of precious study and class time.

However, the time spent living by candlelight, was precious in and of itself. Many of us wrote out the Psalms by hand in the candlelight, and discovered how the Scriptures were handed down to us. Many of us lived as our ancestors lived before electricity, and we counted our blessings, and gained a new appreciation for our life and routine at Saint Vladimir's Seminary.

Jabra was born in Amman, Jordan and raised with his five siblings by faithful Orthodox parents in suburban Philadelphia, PA, where he attended St. Philip Orthodox Church (Antiochian Archdiocese) in Souderton. In recent years, he moved to Texas, where he attended St. Anthony the Great Orthodox Church (Greek Orthodox Archdiocese) in the town of Spring. He is engaged to be married this summer to "the beautiful, sweet Gabriella Mobayed" of Sugar Land, Texas. Jabra serves on the Student Council at St. Vladimir's as one of two first–year representatives.

In his free time, Jabra enjoys reading news articles about current affairs and managing his fantasy football teams. An extrovert, Jabra loves being around people and learning about them. He especially enjoys studying the lives of the saints, and reading biographies about people in politics who have maintained their integrity.

Richard Ajalat

A third–year Antiochian seminarian writes about serving at a liturgy in which his patriarch, His Beatitude Ignatius IV, presided

His Beatitude Patriarch Ignatius IV (Hazim) of Antioch and all the East, His Eminence The Most Rev. Metropolitan Philip, archbishop of New York and Metropolitan of All North America, and The Right Rev. Nicholas, bishop of Brooklyn and resident assistant to the Metropolitan, visited St. Nicholas Cathedral in Brooklyn, New York on Sunday October 21, 2012, for Matins and Divine Liturgy. Bishop Nicholas celebrated the liturgy, aided by the Vicar-General of the Antiochian Archdiocese, The Very Rev. Thomas Zain, and other assistants. Among those were several seminarians from St. Vladimir's Seminary, who participated in the service with His Beatitude, who had arrived from Syria on October 16.

In the beautiful and spirit–filled liturgy, all of the Antiochian seminarians and the faithful were inspired with His Beatitude's words, especially when he told us, his listeners, that we are the ones who give him strength. Remembering the suffering of our loved ones overseas, a collection was taken by the faithful of St. Nicholas Cathedral and St. Mary Church of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, to help the Patriarch minister to the victims of the ongoing civil war in Syria. 

It was deeply inspiring to see how much love and respect there is between our hierarchs, and it was a blessing to sense how our spiritual "father of fathers" loves and cares for his children in North America. In turn, he informed us that we provide inspiration for him. Amazingly, His Beatitude is in his mid–90's. May God continue to give him strength, and grant him many years!

Read about the Patriarch's visit to St. Nicholas 

Harrison Basil Russin

A third–year seminarian writes about gaining a new perspective through prison ministry

I had an appointment to meet with the prison chaplain in his office at 1:00 p.m. I arrived my habitual ten minutes early. Actually, it was probably earlier than that, because I wasn’t sure how long it would take to clear prison security. I emptied my pockets, walked through a metal detector, signed a logbook—the result was an odd feeling of boarding an airplane mixed with visiting a nursing home.

I sat in that waiting building for fifteen minutes or so as the guards paged the chaplain I was supposed to meet. No answer, no answer. Finally they offered to take me to his office where I could wait for him, and perhaps meet one of the other chaplains. I obliged and followed the guard on the short walk outside. Arriving at the chaplain’s department, I found one guard in the corridor and four inmates inside the chaplain’s office doing clerical work. My escorting guard told me to sit in the office and wait for the chaplain.

So I was left in a small office with four prisoners, serving sentences of thirty years to life, while a guard lounged in the corridor. Welcome to your prison chaplaincy internship.

I wasn’t scared, but I wasn’t at ease either. To break the ice I mentioned to one of the inmates that my grandmother had volunteered at this prison for the last fifteen or so years of her life. When I spoke her name a reverential silence descended. She was, in fact, admired greatly by the inmates at this prison. I remember at her funeral receiving a card from the men of her Bible study, and they mentioned the grace she reflected to them after communicating her diagnosis of breast cancer.

Chaplain Pall finally arrived—he was detained in an administrative meeting. Like many men who enter the ministry, Chaplain Pall discovered that a large part of his job was organizational and clerical. He spends probably half of his day investigating and discerning the validity of various inmate requests—most often for facial hair or long beards (from Muslim inmates), dietary restrictions, possession of religious articles. He is very good at his job, both as a spiritual director and an administrator. He demonstrated his acumen by showing me all the elements that were going into the audit from the head chaplain of the state prisons—the contents of which the inmates were collecting as I waited for him.

It took me some time to digest the complex difference between state and county prisons. In our first year of seminary we were required to do ten sessions or so of Bible study at a local county jail. “Counties” have a reputation for being rougher. They are, by design, temporary institutions. Usually the maximum sentence someone will serve at a county jail is three years; it also holds people awaiting sentencing, before they’re transferred to state prisons. As a result, county jails have a high turnover rate, and perhaps a worse distinction for violence.

State prison, on the other hand, is a different world. For people in spiritual states of instability, it offers stability. Chaplain Paul described it like living on a cruise ship, in the sense that everything one needs is offered on–site. Some men went in knowing they would spend no more than ten years there. (There’s a quote from the HBO series The Wire: “You only do two days: the day you come in…and the day you get out.”) Others entered with life sentences.

Many of the men involved in the chaplain’s department were serving life sentences. In fact, they nearly considered it a virtue that they had no hope of getting out, yet they had turned and devoted their lives to Christ through service. The men I spoke with frowned upon those who “got religion” in order to look better for a parole review board, or a commutation hearing.

Talking with the inmates prompted my question: how does one find salvation on a cruise ship? Or, in other words, what does it mean to be saved when we can’t “do” anything in response? Most often as Christians we are obsessed with “doing things” in order to show our faith. “OK. I believe in Jesus Christ, I believe in the Orthodox Church. Now what?” The classical Christian response has been the triumvirate of prayer, fasting, and charity. But we always look for ways in which our belief in Christ actually changes the way we live, the way we understand our routines —we so often want to offer a testimony.

In prison, so much is dictated to the inmates. There is very little in terms of the modern god of “choice,” very few identity markers we hold onto in order to differentiate ourselves from others.

I think in prison this process of salvation–by–renewed–understanding is even more clear; it takes great determination, struggle, and prayer to reorient one’s understanding, one’s vision of life, in terms of Christ and his struggle.

In Les Misérables, Victor Hugo focuses on the difference between Jean Valjean’s experience in prison—a sort of forced monasticism—and his experience living as the caretaker of a convent. “On one side, robbery, fraud, violence, lust, homicide, every sort of sacrilege, every variety of offense; on the other, one thing only— innocence”. Although the “penitentiary” format of corrections is no longer favored in America (the idea that putting offenders in solitary confinement with a Bible would lead them to repentance was abandoned in the early 20th century), there is still “every sort of sacrilege, every variety of offense” in prisons. Yet there is still innocence—innocence through Christ.

So, of course, there are still men in prison like one inmate I met—serving a life sentence for murdering his ex–wife, but who was hoping that through his good behavior and volunteership in the chaplain’s office he could receive a commutation. But there are also men who, like another inmate I knew, exude a certain sense of tranquility and silence, knowing that they are physically in chains but remain exuberant in living and proclaiming the gospel (Eph. 6:20). As Orthodox Christians, we can learn much from the mindset of the prisoner: examining our actions, our thoughts, our lives, to make sure that we are only being motivated by Jesus Christ.

The Prison Ministry Field Experience at St. Vladimir's began as a glimmer in the mind of Trustee Attorney Eric Namee in 2009. Since then, it has blossomed into a collaborative effort between the Seminary and the Orthodox Christian Prison Ministry (OCPM), particularly with the active and helpful participation of Chaplain Patrick Tutella, executive director at OCPM.

Seminarians train for prison ministry under the mentorship and guidance of The Rev. Dr. Nicholas Solak, a SVOTS alumnus who currently is rector at Holy Trinity Church in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. For the very first time, beginning fall semester 2012, Prison Ministry Field Experience began to be offered as a 1-credit class. Read another student reflection about prison ministry here.

Harrison Basil Russin is a third–year student in the M.Div. program, and the recipient of the Seminary's 2012 St. Basil the Great Award for Academic Achievement. This article was reprinted with permission from the editors of the blog “Wonder,” a publication of the Department of Youth, Young Adult, and Campus Ministries of the Orthodox Church in America (OCA).

Monk James

What is living at St. Vladimir’s like for a monk?

I am not what one would call a stereotypical monk. From my days as a novice I have been given “obediences,” that is to say I’ve accepted certain tasks given to me by my spiritual father, that have taken me out of the confines of coenobitic monastic life. On many occasions and for varying stretches of time I have not partaken of a daily cycle of services. Often, I have been the only monastic in whichever community I happen to find myself, and I’ve eaten many meals without the company of another monastic. Reflecting on my past, I for all intents and purposes seem to have been completely outside of the monastic lifestyle.

And yet, I have found myself in these (for a monk) precarious positions because of obedience, and so for this reason I don’t particularly feel as though I have ever left the monastery. I have been granted the gift of accomplishing specific work, with the blessing of my spiritual father, in a manner that I pray is unto my salvation. I have no complaints in this regard; the work that I’ve been given and the circumstances that have resulted have never made me doubt my monastic vocation, but have instead worked to grant me the possibility of surrendering more completely to God, if I only accept the opportunity.

This is not to say, however, that all of my experiences have been particularly easy. No, much like anyone else there have been times when I’ve greatly missed the community life to which I still feel greatly called, and I have desired the friendship of individuals who have undertaken the same struggle. So one can imagine just how thankful I am to find myself in the midst of a community whose daily rhythm is dictated by the divine services, who shares meals together, and who have conscientiously responded in obedience to God’s calling by undertaking a common struggle. For a monastic, seminary life seems to be pretty ideal.

My daily schedule here is similar to that of the monastery, though for obvious reasons with not quite the same nuances. Every morning we assemble for Matins, every evening we assemble for Vespers. Saturdays and Sundays are dedicated to the preparation and celebration of the Lord’s Resurrection, and the Divine Liturgy is celebrated according to the festal cycle. During feasts and fasts, the divine services are increased. I have one or two daily jobs for which I am responsible, and just like in the monastery, I know to be on the lookout for the Dean of Students, who always seems to have one or two more tasks that require volunteers. Just like in the monastery too, mistakes are made, someone misses a responsibility, and plans change. And just like in the monastery, the community works together to cover for the mistake, to pick up the responsibility, and to adapt. Life goes on, and the community grows closer together, bearing up one another’s burdens for the sake of Jesus Christ and the gospel message.

Classes and homework seem to take up every other spare moment, but this is joyous work—surely there could be worse things then studying the fathers, the history of the church and its many elements, and scripture. My classmates are studious and respectful, and thankfully it is not difficult to find the quiet that is so conducive to study. (Although finding enough of it may be another matter altogether!) Much like at the monastery, there is always something new and challenging before me. I am continuously encouraged by my studies to evaluate my life and move past the “old Adam,” in hopes of more fully acting in accordance with the will of God. What more could one ask for?

Given the overall theme of this my reflection, one should again not be surprised that I have been granted even more blessings than what I’ve already mentioned. That is, I’ve also been granted a community of monastics here on campus that I can without hesitation call “my brothers.” There are four of us here on campus now, and we interact with the campus in varying capacities, some teaching classes or lecturing and others as students. We grow in our commitment to each other daily, learning from and inspiring each other to seek Christ more completely. In a way I’m thankful that I’ve been allowed to experience monasticism outside of a monastery before coming to St. Vladimir’s, because I’m not sure that I’d appreciate just how rich the small monastic community here on campus is if that weren’t the case. This is not to say, of course, that St. Vladimir’s has a fully functional monastery within its boundaries—that much is simply not true. However, I do feel that it is safe to say that the monastic presence here on campus is quite alive and functioning, providing context and support for the monastics that have been called to St. Vladimir’s in one way or another. It is a very good thing for us to be together. 

In summary, St. Vladimir’s has proven to be a true blessing for this monk. Many of the key elements of the coenobitic life are present here on campus: a daily cycle of services, daily obediences, a strong sense of community, and more profitable and spiritual reading than one could possibly absorb in any given period of time. And even amongst the non-monastic students, the there is still a strong mindfulness of obedience to the will of God. Though I’m not currently in a monastery but in a seminary, I have to admit that I feel now, in an even more complete way than before, that I have still never left the monastery.

So, “what,” one might ask, “is seminary life like for a monastic?” I’d have to say that for this monk, seminary life is really quite good.—Monk James

Seminarian Dn. David Wooten

Five of us from St. Vladimir’s—Dn. Timothy Yates, Monk James Stevens, Seminarian Adam Horstman, Hierodeacon Herman Majkrzak, and myself, Dn. David Wooten—recently traveled to nearby St. Joseph’s Seminary (aka "Dunwoodie"), a Roman Catholic seminary in Yonkers, to take advantage of a post-abortion counseling training seminar. St. Joseph's was hosting "Lumina Ministries," the post-abortion counseling ministry of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York, and had graciously invited all clergy and seminarians to attend, free of charge, these sessions that sought to help church leaders provide help for all victims of abortion—not only the unborn but also the mother, father, and family of the unborn child.

Theresa Bonapartis, head of Lumina Ministries, delivered the afternoon sessions (seminarians from St. Vladimir’s were unable to attend the morning sessions due to class requirements), in which she detailed the hurt and confusion that the would-be parents or siblings experience in the aftermath of abortion. Accompanying her in her presentations was Fr. Mariusz Koch, CFR, Vicar of the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal. Together, they outlined common emotional responses and spiritual dilemmas that these living victims of abortion often suffer through. Theresa spoke from her own experience as a post-abortive woman, while Fr. Koch provided anecdotes of how these responses usually manifest themselves in confessional or parochial settings.

The sessions were oriented specifically towards training priests, and Theresa spoke of her own soul's healing, effected by a priest who was sensitive to the trauma of abortion: he not only acknowledged her pain over a sin that had damaged her soul but also declared to her that, yes, God is merciful, and that there is no sin that our heavenly Father cannot forgive, no wound He is unwilling to make whole.

We trainees were told over and over that these two attributes of truth and compassion—affirming the sinfulness of abortion, and declaring the mercy and forgiveness of God—were always to be presented together in order to effectively and rightly minister to men and women who are confused and hurt in the wake of their ordeal. The clarity this approach provides serves as a remedy for the lies many women tell themselves and for the lies that family, friends, and even clergymen may tell them. From serial confession (“God couldn’t possibly have forgiven me last time, or ever!”) to presumption and false compassion (“Well, since God forgives and the baby’s in heaven instead of in a hard life on earth, abortion is technically OK.”) and all points in between, these ways of dealing with emotional and spiritual wounds were addressed and diagnosed. 

Following Theresa’s and Fr. Koch’s sessions, we listened to a very moving testimony by a woman, Gail, who had had two abortions—one at her parents’ behest when she was in her teens and one as an adult—and her moving story of the emotional turmoil that ensued; her invitation to a retreat at a Roman Catholic monastery by a devoutly Catholic friend and coworker; her subsequent confrontation of her past through the guidance of loving, compassionate lay, clergy, and monastic attendees of the retreat; and her final encounter with Jesus Christ during the night when she confessed her sins and felt for the first time that forgiveness was not only possible, but a reality He was ready to give to her. It was evident that the constant presence of concerned, loving people all along the way was vital to her healing; had the people not been present to provide caring support for her, she would have known neither the severity of her sin, nor the forgiveness of her Savior.

We were very grateful for the opportunity to attend the afternoon half of these sessions, and we hope that this relationship between Catholics and Orthodox will continue to flourish. We also hope that our shared heritage of care for life in and out of the womb would result in our mutual stance being not only “anti-abortion” but also truly “pro-life.”

For, what does it mean to be “pro-life”? Many who style themselves as “pro-life” are all too often simply “anti-abortion,” and often simply lock themselves into concern for the baby’s pre-natal development while neglecting other, post-natal needs. Furthermore, many anti-abortion advocates focus so much on the baby’s survival that they neglect (or worse, condemn!) the “living victims” that are also traumatized by the horrific event.  From the despair of young or poor mothers who very often are thrust into a seemingly hopeless situation by a boyfriend or husband who refuses to stay and care for her and the little one growing inside of her, to the anguish of would-be fathers whose partners had aborted their children, to the “survivor’s trauma” of children who were told that their parents had aborted the children who would have been their older siblings—these are also the victims of the reality of abortion.

A dozen of us gathered before sunrise on January 23, 2012, outside the St. Vladimir’s Seminary Bookstore, to travel to our nation’s capital. We went to represent St. Vladimir’s at the 39th annual March for Life, an event that marks the anniversary of the tragic ruling of our Supreme Court to allow for the termination of pre-born human life, at any stage of gestation, for any reason. Hundreds of thousands of participants came from all corners of the United States to march down Constitution Avenue in Washington D.C. in protest of our country’s current policy of abortion on demand, a policy which has victimized not only countless unborn children, but also the mothers and fathers of those children, parents who have had to endure the aftermath of making what is for many an "impossible" decision.

In spite of the serious subject of the march and our early departure time, our group was in high spirits. We arrived at St. Nicholas Cathedral, the national cathedral of the Orthodox Church in America (OCA), where the parish community warmly received us and offered us a delicious lunch. After a short while, we all piled back into the van and made the short trip down to the National Mall. There, in the shadow of the Washington Monument, and within walking distance of all the grand memorials of our nation’s illustrious leaders, an enormous crowd gathered in front of a center stage, and the speakers began to call the pre-march rally to order.

I have to admit, I was nervous about how this march would go. It’s an election year in the United States, and, sadly, one of the ways in which the point of the march can be easily lost is when it becomes merely a talking point for this or that political party and not a peaceful protest against the tragic loss of unprotected life. I half expected some speakers to lash out against our president or his party; or, even worse, I expected that this march would become a way for people to shame certain groups within our society—namely, the mothers of those babies lost to abortion—as being the ones solely responsible for choosing to abort their children. I was thrilled to be proven wrong.

Metropolitan Jonah, primate of the OCA and president of St. Vladimir’s Seminary, was given the honor this year of offering the opening prayer at the rally. It was moving to hear a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people responding to His Beatitude’s petitions in a unified, “Lord, have mercy.” In those petitions, His Beatitude not only pleaded for God to forgive our nation for the murder of countless unborn children but also asked for God to “remember not our hypocrisy” as Christians who couple “external zeal matched only with practical inaction to assist those who fall prey to the despair and hopelessness of abortion.” His Beatitude acknowledged our responsibility to reach out in non-judgmental love to the mothers who themselves remain traumatized by abortion; he prayed for God to “accept…the grief of mothers who have aborted their children as a cry of repentance.”

Speaker of the House John Boehner (R-OH) also spoke at the rally. Rather than giving a politically partisan stump speech, he acknowledged that though many who march together "may disagree in other areas, sometimes starkly…we are one and the same on this, because human life is not a political or economic commodity and defending life is not a matter of party." I very much appreciated Speaker Boehner’s recognition that this event could and should transcend political affiliation and any particular personality, focusing rather on the horrible effects that Roe v. Wade has wrought on us as a people and seeking to find a way forward in healing spiritual, physical, and psychological wounds.

Once the rally was over, the group from St. Vladimir’s gathered together with His Beatitude, along with His Grace Tikhon, bishop of Philadelphia and Eastern Pennsylvania; His Grace Melchisedek, bishop of Pittsburgh and Western Pennsylvania; His Grace Michael, bishop of New York City and New York and New Jersey; and His Grace Matthias, bishop of Chicago and the Midwest. Also joining us were seminarians from our sister OCA seminary, St. Tikhon’s, and from Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology, along with scores of Orthodox faithful from several different states. After gathering under the familiar “Orthodox Christians for Life” banner, we proceeded together down Constitution Avenue.

It was at this point that I noticed the remarkable difference in the “feel” of this year’s march, in contrast to last year’s march. Last year, it seemed like many people at the march would yell out trite, flippant chants—smiling all the way!—which betrayed the solemnity and gravity of the event. This year, those who came to pray calmly and peacefully set the tone on the street. There were large groups of Roman Catholics who prayed the rosary together as they walked. Hierodeacon Herman (Majkrzak), a liturgical music lecturer and Chapel Music Director at St. Vladimir’s, had very thoughtfully prepared folders of select Orthodox liturgical music for use during the march; the sound of Orthodox hymns seemed to provide a much more meditative, respectful, and appropriate tone for the march.

We proceeded until we arrived at a particular street corner where we had, in years past, attempted to offer a short panikhida for the unborn who had been lost to abortion. In previous years, police had shooed us off the sidewalk in order to maintain crowd control. This year, thank God, we were allowed to stay for as long as we wanted. And given this opportunity, His Beatitude once again set the tone for our approach as Pro-Life Orthodox Christians. He not only led us in the panikhida for the unborn, but, following that, he led us in singing “O Virgin Pure,” a hymn of supplication to the Mother of God. Specifically, we petitioned her to help us in reaching out in genuine love to those mothers who had lost their children to abortion. Several members of our group commented on how this hymn was one of the most moving moments of the entire march.

Following the prayer service, we were free to remain on the corner to meet fellow Orthodox and receive His Beatitude’s blessing; after this, many of us went back to St. Nicholas Cathedral, where we were once again fed a delicious meal. Following the meal, His Beatitude offered a brief word of thanks to all of us for traveling so far and for standing in solidarity in support of our faith’s stance on life. We then said good-bye and journeyed back home to St. Vlad’s, arriving late that night after a long but rewarding day.

I am so grateful that our seminary offers us the opportunity to participate in this event (classes are called off on this day so that anyone who wants to go is able to do so without falling behind in studies). It is clear that both the leaders of the march in general and our Orthodox leaders in particular are well aware of the broad scope of work that needs to be done to address the damage done by our country’s allowance of abortion: from peaceably assembling to protest the lack of protection of innocent lives in the womb, to caring for traumatized women who suffer long after the act of abortion, to counseling men involved in the decision to abort a child. We as Orthodox Christians must be more active in addressing all of these needs. This year’s march has placed within participants the mindset to do all these things in the future.

Adam Horstman

In St. Matthew’s Gospel, we see that in meeting the needs of the hungry, sick, and imprisoned, we are ministering directly to Jesus, who considers the poor, sick, and the imprisoned to be his brothers. Theology must be applied in the concrete reality of our everyday existence. By giving our lives unto others in the love of God, we see the face of Jesus our Lord.

Like many new seminary students, I came to seminary desiring to learn about my faith, but even more, to learn how to put that faith into practice. As Orthodox Christians, we greatly value Jesus’ command to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit prisoners. Recognizing the significance of caring for the ones Jesus loves as well as the importance of preparing seminary students for a life of ministering to others, St. Vladimir’s Seminary provides a Prison Ministry Field Experience for first-year students in the Master of Divinity program. We were able to enter into the world of those who spend their days behind bars. 

We were trained and mentored for this work by Fr. Nicholas Solak, a veteran priest and SVOTS alumnus. He taught us, among other things, how to listen attentively to people and to handle difficult conversations. We also learned much from the prison chaplains who worked on site, especially a Roman Catholic priest, Fr. Paul. At the close of our practicum, we were blessed to have the presence of Chaplain Patrick Tutella, the Executive Director of Orthodox Christian Prison Ministry (OCPM). OCPM is a wonderful organization that helps Orthodox Christians begin and sustain their involvement in prison ministry. Through their work, a number of inmates have embraced the Church. Some have even become monks and iconographers while incarcerated. 

During our Bible Study with the prisoners we reflected on the community of the early church in the book of Acts, the love of the Father in the parable about the Prodigal Son, and the love of Christ through the story of the Good Samaritan. We not only discussed the contents of the Bible narratives but asked how its teaching informs the daily situations we deal with, both in prison and in the world. The piety of many of these men was deep, and we learned much from them. They were reverently moved when we prayed the “O Heavenly King” and the “Prayer of Saint Simeon” as we opened and closed our meetings. A number of them were astounded that we were not getting paid for the time that we spent with them. During our last session at the prison, one of the men even sang a song for us that he had composed, in gratefulness.

Although, I realize that change involves far more than mere words, one of the first things I noticed when we began our prison Bible study was transparency. I heard stories of pain and regret; realization of sinfulness, men who wanted to see their children and to be set free. They wanted to know God and see Him at work in their lives.

I could not help but see myself in these men. Who knows what sort of life I would have without my loving family and healing Church? Although I might not be in prison for crimes against society am I not imprisoned by the idolatry of my own life; consumed by my wants, desires, and thoughts, forgetting the needs of my brothers, failing to be grateful for God’s great gifts? Am I not at times, in a prison of my own making? I believe that these men were a gift to us.

We had our share of adventures! Some of us got lost on the way there, others forgot to bring their driver’s licenses and had to return to campus to retrieve them. We all faced a ferocious possum. (Actually she was more cute, than mean.) Yet, it was either walk past the possum or climb the barbed wire fence! There were also a couple of prison lockdowns, which allowed us to see the danger these men were surrounded by.

“When I was in prison, you visited me”: these words of Christ remind me that our Lord is found when we meet Him in the lives of others. The prisons hunger for the Church to invite them to the table, for He came to call not the righteous, but sinners. Spending time with prisoners joined their stories to ours. We bear these men in our hearts and lives. It is with great sadness but also much hope that we conclude our prison ministry experience. I hope that this great gift hides itself in our hearts until we leave this place to put our faith into action. I hope that we, in the words of Fr. Paul, “become the face of love.”

Read about the development of the Prison Ministry Field Experience program at St. Vladimir's Seminary.

David Wooten

One week ago, my family and I took part in the St. Vladimir’s Theophany celebrations for the first time.  We had not been able to attend services last year, as we had been back home in Texas during Theophany, and only made it back from visiting my wife’s family in Kentucky one day prior to the feast this year.  On that day, while my wife, our three little girls, and I were just getting our bearings after our journey, the part of the seminary community that had stayed on campus for the break was participating in one of the longest liturgical days of the Orthodox year: Royal Hours, Typika, the Vesperal Liturgy of St. Basil the Great, and the First Blessing of Water—all told, an almost four-hour stretch of services.  I asked one neighbor of mine how it went as he came in from church; he responded (a bit wearily but with a smile), “It was long, involved, and…beautiful.”

That night, my family and I attended the vigil for the feast, and the next morning we attended the Divine Liturgy.  Following the celebrations, we all went in procession to the snow-bordered little fish pond right outside Three Hierarchs Chapel for the second blessing of water.  It was here that my thoughts about what Theophany means took an unexpected turn.  As I said, my wife and I are used to celebrating Theophany either in Texas, where water is usually blessed either in a baptismal font or (no kidding) a horse trough, or in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where Orthodox parishes gather to bless the Arkansas River, which culminates with the priests’ pushing a giant cross carved out of ice into the river.  The cold, snowy surroundings, along with the different venue for the blessing, made this a notable exception to what we’d been accustomed to.

The fish pond holds significance for our family; during the previous semester, one of the groundskeepers had asked us if we wouldn’t mind feeding the pond’s beautiful Koi fish on the weekends.  My girls jumped at the chance, and the fish jumped every weekend as soon as they saw us, maws gaping eagerly for food.  The pond was quiet now, on January 6th, and ice partially covered the surface, which was disturbed only by the hand cross which was thrown into the pond and retrieved three times at the blessing of waters.  The lack of activity was obvious, yet our celebration of the manifestation of Christ as the One Whose "light…has shown on us,” and Who Himself is the “Light Unapproachable” that has, in turn, “enlightened the world,” as we sing in the Troparion and Kontakion hymns for Theophany, falls at a time when the darkness of winter is only now beginning to give way to the increasing light that comes with a new year.  In spite of the cold, in spite of the lifelessness, in spite of the still-predominant dark of the season, we sing hymns of praise to the Light of the world, Who mercifully blesses the most primal element of our life: water.

Following the blessing of water, all of us were invited to the homes of several faculty members for the first house blessings of the Theophany season.  We gathered in the front rooms of the houses, and all of us sang the festal Troparion as we, and the walls in every house, were sloshed with freshly-blessed holy water.  Following the services, we all sat down together as a community to enjoy the hosts’ hospitality and yummy refreshments.  While I ate and mingled at one of the houses, I met a young man who was visiting St. Vladimir’s to see if it would be a good fit for him as a seminary.  We talked a bit about what he already appreciated about the seminary’s legacy in the Orthodox world, but at the end he mentioned how touched he was by the warmth he saw displayed in the house blessings.  The sense of community at St. Vladimir’s has always been a wonderful aspect of our life here, and at no time is the sense of togetherness stronger than when we open our houses up to one another and share in the joy of our life in Christ.

We have now come to the leavetaking of the feast, and after a week of hearing my daughters sing the festal hymns at meals and ask (whine, really, and repeatedly so) for “some more holy water” which we brought from church and keep in a mason jar, we’re very grateful to have been present for this great feast—which outranks even Christmas in the Church’s calendar!—and for the sense of how Christ has revealed Himself to us both in liturgy and community. 

Sarah Bracey-Johnson

Thanksgiving is a classic example of how time flows here St. Vladimir’s. Other institutions may experience it in a roughly linear fashion. Here it pools and eddies, and occasionally it seems to be going backward. Thus it is only natural that we celebrate Thanksgiving well in advance of the fourth Thursday of November—2 weeks early to be specific—so as to avoid the dilemma faced by many Orthodox Christians in America, i.e. how to smile convincingly and say “Pass the Tofurky” while your second cousin is gnawing on a drumstick and your great aunt is daintily downing gravy-drowned mashed potatoes. The whole community piles into the Metropolitan Phillip Auditorium, transformed from a lecture hall to a giant dining room, to celebrate and give thanks with feasting and fellowship. This year I gained a new appreciation for what it takes to prepare one of these yearly extravaganzas when I went from being a member of Meal Crew #3 (go Wolverines!) to being the assistant to the Special Events Coordinator.

My first assignment was to procure the decorations. Simple, I thought, I’ll just run over to the dollar tree and pick up a few festive table cloths and napkins and we’ll be all set. Of course I put this off as assignments piled up. I’ve got plenty of time, I told myself. About a week before SVOTS Thanksgiving (Election Day, to be specific), I was given my first test of the Thanksgiving spirit when I got a call from my husband Charlie—the car broke down while he was out on assignment, the transmission had to be replaced, and you know Westchester prices. Had this been an animated film a cartoon angel would have flown across the top of the screen with a banner reading: “In every thing give thanks…”

A week and several borrowed rides later we had a working vehicle and I was all set to go on my mini-shopping spree. I should mention that I hate shopping. Thankfully my friend Mandy, one of the SVOTS spouses, was willing to come along and prevent me from melting into a pool of indecision, or simply choosing the ugliest thing I found simply because it was closest to the checkout line. Little did we suspect that the dollar stores in Yonkers were also experiencing time warps—they were already celebrating Christmas.

After failing to find anything non-green, red, and tinsel related, we moved on, ironically enough, to the Christmas Tree Shops (one store, not many) where we found the discount autumnal ware in assorted patterns for just $1 each. I picked up one of the plastic-wrapped table cloths.

“What size do we need?” Mandy asked.

“Um...Chef said banquet sized, whatever that means.” We stared at the packet. There were some dimensions, but no helpful captions like “This is the size you’re looking for” or “Buy me.” Then a total stranger paused while fishing napkins out of the bin and said, “Oh, banquet size, that’s…” she gave us some numbers. “These aren’t the right size.”

We stared at them some more. “Well,” I said, “we could just use two per table and overlap them.” So we bought out the most abundant pattern and some napkins to match (most of them were buried beneath the Turkey-patterned dessert plates) and moved on to table decorations. Our options were as follows: straw men on sharp stakes, cardboard pumpkins covered in orange glitter and flat-as-pancakes potpourri bags. Needless to say, we moved on. Here I’ll put in a plug for Trader Joe’s grocery store which had 69¢ gourds that looked to me to be only mildly cancerous.

Thus armed, and with the help of many other students and assorted kids, the stage was set, and during the Akathist “Glory to God for All Things” we assembled the main attractions: "Ladies and Gentlemen, starting from the door we have the food table with its rice, turkey, yams, cranberry sauce, salad bowl, salad dressing, where are the croutons?? more cranberry sauce, yams, turkey, rice, and the drink bar. 'Yes'—to all of you who asked, 'Is there wine at this event?'."

But it didn’t look complete until church let out and the room was filled by the members of the community—students and spouses talking, laughing, kids playing tea party under the appetizer table, faculty members donning aprons to serve the meal. That’s when it really felt like the family gathering that it was, and I finally remembered to be thankful for being a part of it.