Let us commend ourselves…
The first few days after the miscarriage were foggy and confusing. We were devastated. Afraid. Empty. We weren’t so much angry with God as numb. We shut down and withdrew. Why did we have to let go of the child we never met? Our emotional turmoil mirrored the winter weather: swirling snow shut everything down, and we were shut inside with our grief.

On the third day, God gave us a great gift to begin the slow process of healing. The blizzard dissipated, leaving everything hushed by a serene blanket of white snow. With everyone else inside to enjoy the day off, cozy with family before their fireplaces, the world outside remained quiet and pure, unspoiled. A new beginning. We alone emerged, tentatively, into that peaceful silence; tentatively, we entrusted part of our broken selves back to the Creator.

The next place we felt comfortable was in church, the Saturday night Vigil. We didn’t have to make meaningless small talk or look anyone in the eye. Others prayed by candlelight; we simply stood, holding onto the stillness from the previous day, letting the prayers wash over us. Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee. The prayers in preparation for Sunday, the day of resurrection ­­already, but not yet. For Thy Name’s sake have I waited for Thee. We sat in the hushed service together, keeping watch before the icon of St. Anna the Prophetess, who is practiced at receiving children. We decided to commend our lost child to her, and to remember her with the same name. From the morning watch until night, let Israel hope in the Lord. Perhaps we could relearn how to commend ourselves to Christ, too.

Let us commend each other…
The close community at St. Vladimir’s carried us. Two priests came to see us shortly after it happened. They listened, they prayed; they assured us we could always call on them. They were kind and wise in their brevity. Perhaps one of the best lessons in the art of pastoral care.

The best gift our friends gave us at first was space. The second best was food. The evening after our loss came a knock at the door: no one there, just a bag of groceries and warm comfort food. And a note: We’ve been there; we’re here for you. Two of our closest friends. First there was a wave of guilt—how had we not known and acknowledged their pain? Then a stronger feeling, like a firm embrace: they loved us anyway, and there was nothing we could do about it.

We were not prepared for the gentle compassion we received. No one smothered us, but somehow, discretely, we were assured of everyone’s support. Family sent cards. A baby blanket in memoriam. We were even less prepared for the number of friends who had also miscarried. Obadiah. Innocent. Anna. They all had names, icons in the family prayer corner. How had we never noticed? Another couple of our closest friends invited us in. They had been there, too. You’ll never forget her. It still hits us unexpectedly after three years. Tears. Hugs. A deep bond that only comes with vulnerability and shared experience. Only in reflecting back do we see how we made it through.

With every act of kindness toward us, every tear shed with us, every prayer said secretly for us: our friends and family commended us to Christ when we were too lost and lethargic to know where to turn.

Let us commend all our life unto Christ our God.
Slowly the pain dulled, the sobs came less frequently, and we returned to life as usual. We mercifully receded from the spotlight. Nothing would ever be the same, but neither did it have to remain bleak. There were new pains, new fears, new questions; but we were finding a new resilience, and new wisdom. God had not left us during the most painful time of our lives, and in fact, we had never been closer to or more loved by our friends. As we practiced ­­haltingly ­­ giving every thorny part of our life over to God, we found that the pain was not to be avoided or merely endured, but could actually be cultivated into the most precious fruit­bearing tree. Now the flaming sword no longer guards the gates of Eden; Behold, through the Cross joy has come into all the world. Enter again into paradise.

After forty days of mourning, of lamentation, of the cold beginning of a New York spring—Pascha. In spite of ourselves, we dove into the celebration. Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life. Still not yet, not fully. But it felt closer; more certain. We grew to believe with more zeal than ever before. The child that never saw the light of day—her story did not, in fact, end before it began. We hope to meet her one day.

After forty days of paschal joy, of the hope of resurrection and reunion, of sunny days and blooming flowers, we had a memorial service and found out we were pregnant again. At the beginning of this year, our son was born, healthy and happy, by the grace of God. He cannot replace Anna, or erase the scar from our hearts; neither will he be overshadowed by her. Rather, he will grow up under the watchful protection of the Prophetess Anna and the Wonderworker Nicholas. And standing together in our prayer corner, before their icons and by their prayers, we three together will learn to commend ourselves, and each other, and all our life unto Christ our God.

-

Andrew, Melissa, and Nicholas Cannon live at St. Vladimir’s, where Andrew is in his final semester of his studies in the Master of Arts program.

Saint Vladimir’s Seminary graduate Botros Sadek took a major step in his academic career in the fall of 2020, earning his Ph.D. from Claremont Graduate University (CGU) in California. 

Dr. Botros Sadek defended his doctoral dissertation via Zoom.On August 21 via Zoom Dr. Sadek successfully defended his dissertation, “The Development of Auricular Confession in the Coptic Tradition: A Theological and Historical Study in the Book of Confession by Kyrillus III, Patriarch of Alexandria (+1243 AD).”

Sadek joined CGU after graduating with an M.A. and Th.M. from St. Vladimir’s in 2015 and 2016, respectively. At CGU, he studied Christian history with a concentration in Coptic studies. He also holds an M.B.A. and a degree in engineering. 

Sadek’s Th.M. thesis on Mariology was published in Arabic in January 2020.

Born and raised in Egypt, Dr. Botros Sadek is a member of the Coptic Orthodox Church. Before joining Seminary, he worked for more than twenty years in a multinational company, holding different technical, educational and managerial positions. 

In January 2020, Dr. Sadek’s Th.M. thesis from St. Vladimir’s Seminary, Mariology as Christology: A Reading in the Coptic Theotokia, was published in Arabic. The thesis was supervised by the renowned Orthodox scholar Fr. John Behr, a former dean and professor at St. Vladimir’s, in 2016. Sadek is now working on translating his M.A. thesis, “Dioscorus of Alexandria: Condemnation by Association,” into Arabic to be published in Cairo.

Sermon, Fourth Saturday of Lent 2016

Imagine, if you will, life as a deaf person. More specifically, imagine all of the things that you can do in the course of a day that would be nearly impossible, or at least significantly more difficult, if you were deaf. How would you wake up in the morning if you couldn’t hear your alarm clock? How would you answer the phone at work if you can’t hear the person on the other end? How could you talk to someone at the grocery store if they couldn’t speak American Sign Language?

Now imagine life as a deaf person in the first century, and not just a deaf person, but mute as well. This existence would have been one of severe limitations, and of austere loneliness and isolation. There were no subtitles, no sign language, no detailed communication whatsoever! This is the picture that the Gospel paints for us today; the man that Jesus heals had to be brought to him, a man who was deaf and without speech. But it is the way that Jesus heals him that is so peculiar; Jesus heals a deaf man by speaking to him. Think about that for just a moment; how many times would someone have spoken a word, or a multitude of words to this man? The words would have entered his ears and then evaporated into the ether, unheard and unheeded, and the speaker, with a puzzled look, would have eventually given up and walked away.

How many of us are just like this deaf man? The words of those around us enter our ears, good words from good people. But even though they enter our ears, they remain unheard and unheeded. Maybe it’s the council that the priest gives to us when we go to confession. Maybe it’s the advice that our parents give when we’re making big life-decisions. Or maybe it’s something that we read in a book of sayings of the fathers. Whatever the source of the words, so often we, like the deaf man, move on without actually hearing what was said.

But why is it so important for us to hear these words?

So often, after we are approached or reproached, admonished or encouraged, we remain unchanged. For better or for worse, the words of those around us inspire and encourage us. They comfort us, they motivate us, they amaze us, they edify us, and sometimes they trouble us; and these experiences have the power to transform us. And it is the opening of our ears that is the gateway to this transformation. But there is something different about Jesus’ words; they are uttered by the Son of God, and he who hears those words will live. “Be opened!” These words didn’t just enter his ears; they sank deep into his heart, changing him.

Here at the liturgy, we encounter words like the ones that healed the deaf man, words of life. Every Sunday, as we gather for the liturgy, we have an encounter much the same as the one that Jesus had with the deaf man. We listen to the reading of the Gospel, the good news of Jesus Christ, the epic story of how God came as a man to save his creation from the clutches of death.

We have the amazing ability to be healed, to be TRANSFORMED! Now, there is no guarantee that when these words enter our ears we will hear them, much less obey. But it is these words that have the power to sink deep into our hearts, into the marrow of our bones, into our very beings, opening our ears and transforming the way that we live our lives. These words, these words of transformation, are the words of Jesus Christ.

Now, I know what you’re going to say next; “But Father, there’s so much more to liturgy than listening to the Gospel!” And while I’m hesitant to agree with that statement, you’re right; the liturgy is a Gospel encounter, and an important part of that is hearing the Gospel read and preached, but the work of the liturgy is more varied than just that.

Again we see an example of this in today’s Gospel lesson. Jesus speaks words of life that transform the deaf man, but he also touches the deaf man, on his tongue. Now, of course we can be rational and say that it makes sense that Jesus would touch a mute man’s tongue to heal him, where else would he touch him? But this intimate action has deeper significance for us than just cold, rational, logical analog. The deaf man receives words of life, and also the touch of Christ on his tongue, loosing it and allowing him to speak plainly. And what is the first thing that the man does with his newly found speech? He speaks to everyone he meets, telling them of the miraculous things that Jesus Christ had done for him! So too do we, after receiving the sweet Savior on our tongues, receive the ability and the zeal to tell everyone about the marvelous things he has done for us and all mankind! Just as the Psalmist says, so too can we say, “My soul is satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you.” Our tongues are not just loosened to speak plainly, but powerfully, and with praise.

And so, on this memorial Saturday, the last of the Lenten season for this year, we are given this story of complete healing for our own healing. We are told of the truth of Christ, that whoever hears his words and believes in the one who sent him has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life. Because they have heard and believed the words of he who was sent, they are transformed. This is who we pray for at the great entrance when we commemorate those who have fallen asleep in the hope of the resurrection of the life to come.

This is that hope; to hear the words of Christ, to let them renew and transform us, and to have tongues that are able to praise, bless, and worship Christ, telling everyone that we meet of the incomparable glory of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

-

Father Ryan Bishop is a third-year seminarian at St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary. Fr. Ryan earned a Bachelor of Arts in Biblical Studies from Columbia Bible College in 2006, and a Joinery Foundations Certificate in 2008. After several years in the cabinetry industry, he decided to work for himself from home, making furniture and looking after his two children. In 2013, the Bishop family embarked on their journey to New York, in order for Fr. Ryan to participate in the Master of Divinity program at St. Vladimir’s. He was ordained to the Holy Priesthood on February 28, 2016, by His Eminence Irenée, Archbishop of Ottawa and the Archdiocese of Canada.

Priest Justin Mathews (Class of ’07) works along the “dividing line” of Kansas City, MO—Troost Avenue. He is the executive director of Reconciliation Services, an organization working to help address the wounds from generations of racial and economic inequality in the surrounding neighborhood.

The kind of hardship and suffering found there, Fr. Justin points out—which can also be found in cities throughout the United States—is heart-wrenching.

“The rates of trauma and PTSD in the urban neighborhoods in the United States that are crippled under gun violence and debilitating social issues...approach that of veterans returning home from war,” he said. “It is a warzone.”

In a candid and moving interview with St. Vladimir’s Seminary’s Ginny Nieuwsma, Fr. Justin explains how he got to Troost Avenue, what lies behind the particular brokenness there—and in America in general—and what Orthodox Christian communities everywhere can learn from it. 

This Giving Tuesday, December 1, 2020, St. Vladimir’s Seminary is tithing 10% of funds donated to the Seminary that day to Reconciliation Services’ ministry. Click HERE to donate.

Priest Daniel Greeson has begun a “new venture,” launching a blog commissioned by Ancient Faith Ministries. Every Thought Captive launched in early November 2020 and aims to provide Orthodox Christian commentary on contemporary social, political, and moral issues.

• Click HERE to read Fr. Daniel’s first entry, “A New Venture”

“We aim to take ‘Every Thought Captive’ to the obedience of Jesus Christ....” writes Fr. Daniel. “The very act of taking something captive implies struggle. This [blog] will welcome the struggle and exhibit wrestling with the ideas and presuppositions of our age.”

Father Daniel will be the principal blogger and editor, but the blog will also feature other Orthodox Christian voices. 

The Rev. Daniel Greeson is rector of St. Anne Orthodox Church, Oak Ridge, TN. He graduated from St. Vladimir’s Seminary with a Master of Divinity (M.Div.) degree in 2018 and was ordained to the priesthood later that year. Before attending St. Vladimir’s, Fr. Daniel graduated with a Master of Theological Studies (M.T.S.) from Vanderbilt Divinity School and later worked in the title insurance industry.

We celebrate athletes that run and jump, throw and catch better and faster than anyone else. We marvel at entrepreneurs who start companies that earn billions of dollars. We idolize the actors and musicians who are at the top of their craft. Everyone loves a winner.

We live in a culture that worships winners. It’s all about winning elections, winning arguments, winning friends and influencing people. Winning may be our greatest obsession. What does it take to win? What strategy will give us an advantage over our opponent? What kind of training and preparation will give us the edge that we need to come out on top? We work and plan and scheme to figure out a way to win, and then we dream about the glory that will be ours.

This is probably what Peter was thinking when he and the disciples entered Caesarea Philippi with Jesus. It was there, in that city with its famous pagan temple, that Jesus asked the disciples, “Who do men say that I am?” The disciples said, “Some people think that you are John the Baptist, some say that you are Elijah, and others say that you are one of the prophets.” But then, Peter, going for the win, says, “You are the Christ, God’s anointed, the messiah!” Peter does not think of Jesus as some member of the supporting cast; he says that Jesus is the Christ, the one that God sent to deliver His people. But Jesus immediately commands them not to tell anyone about him. Isn’t that strange? Why does Jesus tell them not to say anything about him? It is because Peter was wrong.

Yes, Jesus is the Christ, but what Peter has in mind when he says that Jesus is the “Christ” is completely off base. Peter thinks the Christ will be the great hero who ends up with more money and more power and is more feared than the Emperor of Rome. Peter thinks that the Christ will raise up an army to fight for the Hebrew people and crush their Roman oppressors. Peter thinks that the Christ is going to be a winner on the world’s terms.

Jesus must have known exactly what Peter was thinking.

And this is why Jesus immediately starts telling his disciples that the Christ, the Son of Man, must suffer many things, and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed, and after three days be raised.

Yes, Jesus is the Christ, but he’s a different kind of Christ than the one Peter was looking for. After Jesus spells out very plainly to the disciples that the Christ is not going to bring about victory on human terms, Jesus began to teach the disciples that the Son of man must suffer many things, that he would be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes, that he would be killed, and after three days rise again. Jesus told them all of this in plain unequivocal language. But then Peter took him, and began to rebuke him. Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him. Peter actually rebukes Jesus.

In other words, Peter speaks to Jesus like some sort of campaign manager, “Lord, what are you talking about? Rejection, suffering, being killed…are you kidding me?!? This is not what God’s anointed is supposed to do, and this is certainly NOT what you are going to do!”

Peter thinks that he knows better than Jesus, Peter thinks that Jesus needs to be corrected about what it means to be the Christ. And how easy is it for us to make the same mistake. In our effort to win our own victories, how easy is it to tell God what to do and how to do it?

“Lord, make sure that I get a big payoff.”

“Lord, make sure that my plans work out this time.”

“Lord, do exactly what I want, so that I can win.”

Sometimes we may think that God has strayed from the playbook, things aren’t turning out as we planned so maybe we need to give God a reminder about what God is supposed to do. Peter definitely thought that he had to tell Jesus what to do in order to achieve an earthly victory. That’s why Jesus says to Peter, “Get behind me Satan. For you are not on the side of God but on the side of men.” Jesus tells Peter and us that winning, according to the rules of this world, is a false victory. Christ says “Whoever would save his life would lose it.” An earthly victory is a false victory because, for every army that marches home in victory, there are scores of widows and orphans who weep in the ashes and rubble of defeat. For every billionaire entrepreneur, there are millions of people living in poverty. For everyone who wins an argument, there is someone who is left in anger and resentment. And the bottom line is that we don’t always win. More often than not, when we lose, or when our plans don’t work out, in our desperation we can so easily turn against God and turn against the people we love.

This is exactly what happened to Peter when he denied Jesus on the night before the Crucifixion. In the cold, darkness of that courtyard outside of the house of the high priest, Peter watched and waited, hoping that somehow his plans and schemes for the messiah could still be salvaged. But when the bystanders said, “Hey, aren’t you one of Jesus’ friends; Yeah, you are one of Jesus’ disciples; You are a Galilean, you must be on of Jesus’ followers.” Three times, Peter denied that he knew Jesus, invoking a curse and swearing, “I do not know this man Jesus.”

And when Peter realized what he had done, he broke down and wept. Everything had gone wrong, and in his desperation, he had denied and abandoned Jesus. Peter’s life had become a living hell. To worship the false-victory of this world is to live in hell. Perhaps in that moment, Peter remembered Jesus’ words, “Get behind me Satan.” But in that moment, maybe Peter also remembered what Jesus right after that. Jesus says to His disciples, “Whoever desires to come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” These are the same words that Jesus speaks to us on this third Sunday of Great Lent, the Sunday of the Cross.

Jesus does not say, “whoever desires to come after me should go out and get himself crucified.” Jesus specifically says, “take up the cross and follow me”—which is the complete opposite of everything we know about winning. To carry your cross is to experience the absolute shame of defeat. It is like the condemned man who is commanded to prepare the noose for his own hanging. It is like the victims in the concentration camp who are forced to dig the pit that will become their own mass grave.

In Jesus’ time, the ritual of forcing a condemned man to carry his cross was murderous mockery. Carrying the cross was part of the bloody Roman propaganda that said, “Behold this man, who disobeyed our commands.

Look at how we crush him and strip him of his last shred of dignity.

Look at how we force him to carry the cross that we will use to execute him.

Look at the power of the Empire, look at how we have won.”

And Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word of God, submits to the Cross willingly, to show that God’s victory is not the victory of this world. Christ’s death on the Cross is the sign that the power of God is greater than the most hideous power of this world. For in the very midst of the humiliation, and agony of crucifixion, as they nailed his hands and feet to the Cross, Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”

And at that moment, the world was forever changed. Because the hateful power of this world was defeated by the Love of God.

By carrying his cross, Jesus shows that the evil of man is powerless against the mercy of God. By carrying his cross, Jesus marches straight into the depths of hell and broke the bonds of sin and death. By carrying his cross, Jesus shows us a way out of the darkness of sin into the pure light of forgiveness. This is the victory of Christ, and this is why we bow down before the Cross.

Jesus’ victory on the Cross is the most unlikely victory that the world has ever seen. Because in the Resurrection, Jesus did not return to take vengeance on the people who betrayed him and murdered him. In the Resurrection, Jesus returned and forgave Peter. And then Jesus sent his disciples out to preach the good news to the very people who had killed him, the gentiles, the Romans.

We see this so clearly in Acts, when Paul and Silas had been arrested and beaten and thrown into jail. There they are in that dark, dank prison, singing hymns and praising God when all of a sudden there was an earthquake and the doors were opened, and all the chains of the prisoners were loosed. When the jailer woke up, and saw what had happened, he assumed that all of the prisoners had escaped, and in his despair, he was about to kill himself. But Paul cried out, “Don’t harm yourself, we are all here.” In that moment, it would have been so easy for Paul to have said, “Ha, let that jailer get what he deserves.” But instead he saved the man from his despair. The jailer cried out, “What must I do to be saved?” And Paul told him about the love and mercy and power of Jesus, the Crucified Messiah.

This is the victory of the Gospel: those small, bright moments of reconciliation, when people who would otherwise be enemies, turn and embrace one another in the love of Christ. This is what it means to take up the cross and follow Christ.

Paul and Silas, and Peter and all the other disciples took up the Cross and followed Christ. They were given divine courage to endure the same kind of humiliation that Christ endured, and to share the love and mercy of God with everyone.

And today, as we fall down before the Holy Cross, as it is lifted up and we praise it in our hymns and songs, we are strengthened with the same divine courage. We face the evil, and the anger of this world, and we take up our cross and follow Christ, showing mercy and forgiveness to everyone around us, glorifying Jesus Christ. For Jesus’ victory, His victory on the Cross, the victory of God’s love, is our one true and lasting victory.

-

The Rev. Dr. J. Sergius Halvorsen (SVOTS ’96) received his M.Div. from St. Vladimir’s Seminary and completed his doctoral dissertation at Drew University in 2002. From 2000 to 2011 he taught at Holy Apostles College and Seminary in Cromwell Connecticut, where he also served as Director of Distance Learning. He was ordained to the priesthood in February 2004, and currently serves on the faculty of SVOTS as Assistant Professor of Homiletics and Rhetoric and Director of the Doctor of Ministry Program.

Priest David McCready, a recent alumnus of St. Vladimir’s Seminary, has penned a reflection on a term that “came to dominate in the west, the dread word transubstantiation.” Father David’s article, “Reflections on the Eucharist,” was published on the blog of The Orthodox West website in October 2020.

In the reflection, Fr. David asks, “Was transubstantiation a point of controversy between east and west?” He explores the writings of Scripture and several ancient and contemporary theologians in addressing the question.

• Click HERE to read “Reflections on the Eucharist”

Father David, a native of Belfast, was raised in the Church of Ireland and served as an Anglican priest before coming to St. Vladimir’s Seminary as a student of the Antiochian Archdiocese. He holds a number of degrees, including a Ph.D. from Trinity College in Dublin. He completed a non-degree track at St. Vladimir’s Seminary in 2019 and was ordained to the Holy Priesthood a few months later, in August 2019, by the hand of hand His Grace JOHN, Auxiliary of the Diocese of Worcester and New England. Since the ordination, Fr. David has served as pastor of St. Columba Orthodox Church in Lafeyette, CO, a parish under the Western Rite Vicariate of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America (AOCANA).

Seminary graduate and current Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) student Fr. Alessandro Margheritino has been appointed executive assistant at the Chancery of the Orthodox Church in America (OCA). 

To mark the appointment, Fr. Alessandro celebrated the Divine Liturgy Wednesday, September 23, 2020 at the Chancery’s St. Sergius Chapel for the Feast of the Conception of St. John the Forerunner. At the conclusion of the Divine Liturgy, His Beatitude, Metropolitan Tikhon welcomed Fr. Alessandro to the Chancery.

Father Alessandro is the Rector of St. Innocent Church in Olmstead Falls, Ohio, under the omophorion of fellow St. Vladimir’s Alumnus His Eminence, Archbishop Paul (’94) and the OCA’s Diocese of the Midwest. Father Alessandro will work remotely from Ohio part-time, and in person at the Chancery (currently located in Syosset, NY) once a month.

Father Alessandro was born and raised in Palermo, Italy. Raised in a Roman Catholic family, Fr. Alessandro was chrismated in the Orthodox Church at the age of 17. In Italy, he attended a linguistic lyceum where he studied Italian, English, and French literature for five years. He later studied at the University of Palermo where he graduated with a bachelor’s degree in international relations and political science. Prior to enrolling at St. Vladimir’s Seminary in Yonkers, NY in 2011, he and his wife, Matushka Anna—who is currently the Seminary’s graphic designer—were members of St. Gregory of Nyssa Orthodox Church in Columbus, OH. Father Alessandro was an active student during his time at St. Vladimir’s, serving as student council president and graduating with a commendation for service to the community when he completed his Master of Divinity (M.Div.) degree in 2014. He was ordained to the priesthood by His Beatitude on the Feast of Ascension on May 29, 2014 at the Seminary’s Three Hierarchs Chapel. He was assigned to St. Innocent Church the same year. In recent years, Fr. Alessandro has also served as president of the Greater Cleveland Council of Orthodox Clergy and spiritual advisor for ZOE for Life! 

Father Alessandro and Mat. Anna have two sons, Luca and Nicolas.

The community of St. Vladimir’s Seminary wishes Fr. Alessandro, Mat. Anna, Luca, and Nicolas many years!

• Watch: Fr. Alessandro talks about being a D.Min. student

(Photos: OCA.org; several details reposted from saintinnocent.org)

It was Easter morning during my first year at St. Vladimir’s Seminary, and I stood at the altar of St. Mark’s Cathedral in Teaneck, New Jersey, wearing subdeacon vestments, listening to our bishop read the gospel of St. Mark. In the traditional Syriac Orthodox melody, he chanted:

And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe; and they were amazed. And he said to them, “Do not be amazed; you seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen, he is not here; see the place where they laid him.” (Mark 16.5-6).

I was overwhelmed by these words. He is risen, he is not here! Silently, I began to weep. The sense of awe that accompanied this moment was soon replaced with embarrassment, as I saw our bishop looking right at me as tears dripped off my chin. I shuffled off to find a tissue.

Why did tears come to me at such a moment? Certainly, the feast of our Lord’s resurrection holds great power. But thinking back on all that had occurred over my first year at St. Vladimir’s Seminary, I realized that what I experienced on that day was the result of accumulation. The Seminary prescribes for its students a life focused on seeking the Lord, and such a life is a struggle against the outside world. This Christ-centered focus is supported by chapel services, classes, community service, fasts, confession, and for a married student such as myself, family life. Yet on any given day, I would often wonder if such a routine was bearing any fruit. On this Easter day, I received an answer. Each day lived trying to fix our gaze on our Lord has a great benefit. It is a benefit that is usually unseen from day to day, but which accumulates slowly over time.

St. John Climacus addresses the unseen character of the spiritual life. He writes:

After a long spell of prayer, do not say that nothing has been gained, for you have already achieved something. For after all, what higher good is there than to cling to the Lord, to persevere in unceasing union with him? (Ladder of Divine Ascent, 28.32)

Life at seminary, and the life of every Orthodox Christian, is an effort to cling to the Lord each day. My time at St. Vladimir’s, particularly on that Easter morning, has taught me that, though we may not perceive any immediate changes as we try to live according to Church teaching, each day of effort matters. The Lord sees our labor and our constant yearning for Him, and slowly changes us by His grace.

The tears granted to me on Easter were a gift, showing me that, to some small and humble measure, the truth of the resurrection had established some root in my heart. Even so, the reality is that I am still a spiritual beginner, returning often to ego and self-will instead of casting myself completely upon the Lord. Yet, as my time here at seminary draws to an end, I will leave as a spiritual beginner, yet one who knows what I must do with the remainder of the earthly life that God gives me. I must work, seeking Him every day, and I pray that by His grace the following words will continue to descend into my heart, filling it through and through:

He is risen, he is not here!

-

Thomas Totonchy is a third-year Master of Divinity student from the Syriac Orthodox Church of Antioch. He is from Portland, Oregon, where his father helped to establish the St. Ignatius of Antioch parish. There he served as a subdeacon and was involved in youth ministry before coming to New York for seminary with his wife Jennifer, who works at the Weill Cornell Medical College. In the summer of 2015, they welcomed their daughter Josephine into the world. After seminary, Thomas hopes to continue to serve the Church as a youth minister, and if it be God’s will, as a priest.

(Photos: Leanne Parrott Photography)

Recognizing a great need in the Orthodox churches in North America, St. Vladimir’s Seminary Alumnus Fr. Jason Foster and his daughter Savannah recently formed the Orthodox Christian Deaf Association (OCDA). Father Jason serves the community of Holy Nativity of the Lord (OCA) in Shreveport, LA.

Savannah, how did you learn American Sign Language (ASL), and how did that lead to the formation of OCDA? 

I’m 19 now, but my interest in learning ASL actually began when I was 16 when I made attempts to communicate with some deaf people while shopping in Barnes and Noble.

In order to reach the door, I needed to walk through the middle of their conversation, so on the spot I looked up how to sign the phrases “excuse me,” “thank you,” and “have a good day” on my phone! This encounter with them energized me, and after this I taught myself sign language using YouTube videos. After about six months of online learning, I visited our local Deaf Action Center and met a deaf friend, Greg, who has subsequently been helping me for three years. He teaches me mainly through our conversations—when I make a mistake, he corrects me. 

How has your experience of learning ASL progressed?

I’m not going to lie—truth is, ASL is a difficult language to learn! While it’s good to watch beginner videos, at some point you need to immerse yourself in it by interacting with people who are fluent in ASL, both deaf and hearing.

In my first year, I couldn’t understand most of the conversations I observed. As my vocabulary began to increase, I slowly developed the skills needed to engage others in communication. By the end of my second year, I was able to think through my conversations and sign in a more coherent manner. Now, in my third year, it’s becoming easier. It takes time, immersion, and patience!

Recently I recorded my teacher signing sections of the Divine Liturgy, and then I tried it myself. I’ve also signed The Akathist of Thanksgiving. Sometimes I practice by signing the weekday services when only a limited number of people are in attendance—I do not want to distract others. At one point, I asked my dad, “What if someone who is hearing impaired comes to our church and can’t understand the services?” We looked around to find Orthodox resources here in North America, and we couldn’t find anything. That was the genesis of the Orthodox Christian Deaf Association.

Father Jason, what are the needs of the deaf and hard-of-hearing communities? 

Our Association has been formed to for three main reasons: First, we want to help connect Orthodox deaf Christians across the continent to each other; second, we need to develop liturgical and educational resources that are accessible to the deaf and HOH; and, lastly, there is a great need to bring the fullness of the Christian faith and life in Christ to this community. The deaf and hard of hearing (HOH) are, in many ways, an unreached people group.

In order for this plan to become a reality, those in the various hearing-impaired communities need to connect with each other—often they feel isolated and alone. If we think we’re isolated as Orthodox, imagine what it’s like being deaf or hard of hearing! Often someone who is deaf may be the only one in the neighborhood with this challenge. Like all of us, they are looking for community and relationships. 

We decided that the most immediate need was for a centralized location, a website, so that these folks could find and interact with each other. That way, hearing impaired people can find out about us and contact us if they have visited an Orthodox service and can’t understand what is taking place. In our research, and talking to our local deaf friends, we have learned that sadly many people who are deaf or hard of hearing chose not to attend church services anymore. We heard stories of others who visited an Orthodox church but they were not able to connect due to the lack of ASL trained people and resources. Consequently, they went to other faith traditions that offered this type of ministry. In regards to Orthodoxy, many deaf and HOH have not been evangelized in a way appropriate to their unique needs.

This said, the Orthodox Church does have a great deal to offer the hearing impaired: namely, the physical or holistic nature of our worship. It includes our bodies (the sign of the cross, lighting candles, prostrations, etc.) and our senses (the fragrance of the incense, engaging the icons, the Sacraments, etc.). We have much to give this community in their interaction and experience of the gospel but we haven’t collectively reached out to them, so we have our work cut out for us!

However, the Orthodox Church is still relatively new to North America and our history is replete with the many challenges faced by immigrants bringing the faith from the mother countries. We are still in a pioneer phase in many respects, starting new ministries and outreach efforts. Yet we are convinced that the time has come for us to get serious about reaching people with disabilities. 

What are the goals of OCDA?

We had modest goals when we launched the website—we didn’t have any idea what to expect at first but we knew the need was great and we had to start somewhere. Our membership increased overnight once our work was profiled on OCA.org and Ancient Faith Radio. Out of the woodwork came a number of trained ASL people and several who work directly with the deaf community. Our website has received thousands of visitors and over sixty people have signed up to be ASL Consultants, Parish Ambassadors, or to offer some type of assistance. We’ve also received emails from parents of deaf children and from the deaf or hard of hearing Orthodox themselves who want to connect with each other and, in some cases, learn how to sign the services. The ministry is taking shape before our very eyes as God moves us forward.

Thus far we have had really encouraging responses from various jurisdictions. We have been interacting with the OCA, Antiochian parishes, as well Greek, Bulgarian, and Serbian communities. Our hope is that eventually, it will be a “given” that our major metropolitan parishes will have people signing the liturgy. Ultimately, the goal of the OCDA is to bring awareness and solutions to the Orthodox deaf and HOH community as it relates to the local church. Again, this means that eventually the majority of our parishes, or at least those in larger cities, there will be someone who can sign the services and assist the priest in ministering to the deaf and HOH.  

What are your challenges?

In older Orthodox countries like Greece and Russia there are more defined ministries for the deaf and those with other disabilities, but in the US there is no collective effort or hub bringing the faithful together on a national level to minister in this arena. Yet we are beginning to have people who are willing to help now and become a part of the solution. As is often in the case in North American Orthodoxy, ministries need to be developed from the ground up. This means we are laying the foundation for the OCDA now with the hope that God will bless the seeds we are planting, others will water, and the next generation will realize the greater fruit. 

This journey has been humbling for me as a priest in many ways. Until Savannah approached me with the question of the deaf and Orthodoxy, I had not even thought about the needs of the hearing impaired. Her statement, “Dad, what about those who cannot hear the Gospel?” still haunts me. We want to address this in our own parish, too! While it seemed like an easy fix in the beginning to reach the this community, the longer I have worked on this with Savannah, the more I have begun to realize that incorporating ASL into our liturgical lives is going to take a lot of work and a lot of time. Developing signs that communicate certain Orthodox theological concepts is complicated! For instance, the Orthodox idea of salvation has multiple aspects—how do you capture the full concept with theological accuracy through ASL? How about words like “Theotokos” or “consubstantial?” We are in the process of developing a team, national and international, that will address these issues and many others. Pray for us! 

Eventually, I hope to be able to discuss the OCDA with seminarians. You build on what you learn and are exposed to at seminary throughout the rest of your ministry—so if I can present our work to future church leaders during their training they may keep those with disabilities in their minds as they enter their parish assignments. 

What can faithful do to help?

Two immediate OCDA roles that we are trying to fill are ASL Consultants and OCDA Ambassadors. Our Consultants are those who know ASL and can both teach it to others and give us input as we create signing standards for services. We need help to form and develop consistent liturgical and educational materials for use in North America. Our Ambassadors will provide vital points of contact in parishes. They will distribute informative brochures, pamphlets, and posters, paying attention to the needs of the deaf and hard of hearing in their communities and communicating their needs back to us. In other words they represent the OCDA to the deaf and HOH and the deaf and HOH to the OCDA. 

Lastly, we need the prayers of God’s people to strengthen and guide this new work. Saint Mark the Deaf, our patron, intercedes for us and we ask you do as well. Prayer, as in the rest of our Christian experience, is foundational to and for all that follows! 

Learn more at orthodoxdeaf.org, or contact Fr. Jason and Savannah at orthodoxdeaf@gmail.com.