On Sunday, January 10, 2016, Beryl Knudsen (M.Div. 2014) was commissioned by the Orthodox Church in America as a hospital chaplain, by Fr. John Eissman atSs. Peter and Paul Orthodox Church in Bethel, CT.The service is part of the endorsement process for lay chaplains in the Orthodox Church. Chaplain Beryl is assigned toDanbury Hospital, where she trained as a chaplain and where she has held a 24-hour-a-week staff position since October 2014. As part of a team of chaplains who respond to emergencies, Beryl visits the non-Catholic patients requesting spiritual care, and provides pastoral care for both the families of patients and for hospital staff.
As a member of the Palliative Care Team, Beryl assesses and ministers to patients with life limiting illnesses; some are in the early stages of their diseases, and some are approaching their final hours. Once a week she runs a group on the psychiatric inpatient unit on topics such as prayer, peace, forgiveness and healing.
I started attending St. Vladimir's in my mid-fifties when my youngest child was ten years old. As we explored my goals, the counselor I was seeing told me I was too old to start a new career, but God had other ideas! A few years later my love of learning brought me to St. Vladimir’s and, while a student at SVOTS, the Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) field assignment led me to a career as a chaplain.
My job is very demanding on all levels; at the same time it is remarkably rewarding. There is tremendous diversity within my day (often within an hour!). One minute I might be offering comfort to an elderly person who is frightened and all alone, the next might find me talking with a nurse or aide who wants prayer for a sick relative. Many patients I visit need help coping with a new diagnosis or end-of-life decisions. Some visits are longer, such as those with patients who are looking back over their lives and want to share their struggles, victories, and accomplishments, as well as the joys or disappointments in their relationships. These visits take time.
Of course there are some patients who also want to talk about their faith or loss of faith, their anger at God, their questions about life after death, the miracles they experienced that confirmed them in their faith or about their desire to do God’s will. I also have patients who cannot speak but are able to radiate their love of Christ. Those visits are like precious jewels.
Often I find that patients and families have losses they need to talk about. Grief tends to surface during a hospital stay. All that I learned fromDr. Al Rossi ‘sclasses, seminars, and counseling, has been extremely helpful. Most of my work consists of listening and being present for the person as a witness of Christ’s love. Regularly I hear in my ear Dr. Rossi saying “Listening is love, delivered.” This month I will train as a Grief Recovery Specialist, which will give me additional listening tools.
While taking homiletics classes withFr. Sergius Halvorsen, I was very frustrated because he and my classmates could not hear my voice when I delivered my practice sermons. I am not a quiet person but I am small, and my voice doesn’t project very well. Father Sergius, knowing I was training as a chaplain, noted to the class that I had an excellent bedside voice, appropriate for my calling. In retrospect, I see he hit the nail on the head. I am a quiet presence at the patient’s bedside, and that’s as it should be. I still give an occasional sermon, though—with a microphone!
Christianity is peculiar, there’s no doubt about that. We serve the crucified and risen Christ, who revealed Himself as God in the way that He died. Instead of self-fulfillment Christ offers us self-sacrifice; instead of power he offers us a cross. As Holy Week expertly teaches: we must go through the cross to get to the resurrection; there is no empty tomb without Golgotha. We learn that with God our expectations often go unmet, yet if we have patience, his plan transcends our expectations. The Jewish religious leaders of Christ’s day, and many of his own followers, did not grasp this concept. They wanted military triumph over the Romans and instead were offered a kingdom not of this world. They were so bent on victory in this life that they unwittingly rejected victory over sin and death.
I was thinking of these things as the Church celebrated the Sunday of St. Thomas, because a mere week after we share in the great Paschal triumph we are immediately confronted with the question of doubt. Courtesy of St. Thomas, our own doubts about Christ’s resurrection are brought to the forefront. But something different and altogether new sprang to my mind as I listened to the juxtaposition of the Epistle and Gospel readings. I found an entirely new way of thinking about the nature of doubt and the role it plays in our lives.
In the Epistle we are presented with the early days of the apostolic ministry and we are able to see the disciples, especially Peter, anew. They are boldly proclaiming Christ with little care of the consequences. It is even said that the sick were carried out on pallets that “as Peter came by at least his shadow might fall on some of them.” It was only a little over a week ago, during the Gospel readings of Holy Thursday, that we saw Peter, weak of will and overcome with cowardice, deny Christ three times. Yet here he is, so infused with the grace of the Holy Spirit that people crave a brief encounter with him. The Sadducees are so overcome with jealousy at this development that they throw the apostles in prison, yet again rejecting the work of God within their midst. Even this doesn’t dissuade the apostles from their work. They are set free from prison by an angel of the Lord, only to be charged: “Go and stand in the temple and speak to the people all the words of this Life.”
How powerfully this speaks to our own fears and doubts. It’s as if we instinctively want to turn victory into defeat. It’s one thing to believe in the reality of the crucified and risen Lord and quite another to act on that belief. And yet here we have a powerful testament to God’s ability to transform our doubts and us with them. We are often like Peter in the Gospels, unable to see God’s hand in the chaos and tragedy around us, so ready to give in to fear and doubt. We are more like the Jewish leaders than we give ourselves credit for, too…ready to abandon Christ when God’s plan doesn’t conform to our expectations. We forget that God is more than the God of triumph; he is also the God of transformation. To truly reflect Christ, we must take up our cross. We must also see our doubts about God’s ability to work in the trials and tragedies of our lives for the imposters they are. When St. Peter stood between Christ and the cross, Christ admonished him saying, “Get behind me, Satan.” Similarly, we must not let our doubts get between us and the cross. For God’s grace to transform us, we must fight through our doubts, knowing that the cross always comes before the empty tomb. It isn’t the doubts that count, it’s our reaction to them. God is always waiting to transform us the way he transformed St. Peter.
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Fr. John Ballard (SVOTS ’10) is the assistant priest at St. Paul’s Greek Orthodox Church in North Royalton, Ohio. He currently lives in Cleveland with his wife, Rebecca, who is a neonatology fellow at Rainbow Babies and Children’s Hospital. They have one child named Max and are expecting their second child at the end of May.
Father Aaron Warwick's reflections about Dr. Nicolae G. Roddy, Alumnus, ’89, M.A., were originally published in the 2014 Annual Report,"The Far Reach of St. Vladimir's Seminary." Dr. Roddy is the Associate Professor of the Hebrew Bible in the Department of Theology at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska.
A “living Bible”…that’s how I think of Dr. Nicolae Roddy. Initially, he was my professor at Creighton University, but he now has become my mentor and friend as well.
As a naïve teenager, I left home for college in 1999 with a general idea of how my life would unfold. Much to my surprise, it turned out quite differently, and one important person who helped me navigate the detours was Dr. Roddy.
During my first semester at Creighton, Dr. Roddy taught a required course entitled “Christianity in Context.” He was the first Orthodox Christian I’d ever met, and his “orthodox” perspective and approach intrigued me. I first attended an Orthodox Christian parish with him, and with his help, established an OCF (Orthodox Christian Fellowship) chapter at Creighton.
I took another course offered by Dr. Roddy, this time on the Old Testament, which really challenged my thinking. I, with other students, struggled re-reading through texts that seemed so different now than from when we had heard them in Sunday School. I appreciated Dr. Roddy’s willingness to stick around after class to help us students. His care for students and love of the Bible helped him to dialogue with us and transmit his wisdom to us—as very few professors were able to do. Most importantly, he was able to integrate his deep knowledge of biblical texts into 21st-century living.
Our relationship grew over 15 years, and in 2012, Dr. Roddy came to speak at my parish about the Bible and archaeology. Spurred on by that retreat, some parishioners and I accompanied him on an archaeological dig this past summer to Bethsaida. What I noted most was that although Dr. Roddy is an esteemed scholar and archaeologist, he continues to learn and to assimilate his education into his daily life.
In Dr. Roddy I see someone who humbles himself before God, realizes and embraces his unworthiness, and yet, thankful for God’s mercy, strives to show the world the likeness of God to which we all are called. He has imparted to me not just knowledge of biblical texts, but has provided me with an example of a living witness of biblical tradition, a “living Bible” in action.
Katrina Bitar (SVOTS '09) is the North America Program Director forYES, or Youth Equipped to Serve.A ministry of FOCUS North America, YES provides opportunities for junior high and high school students to participate in formative weekends of service in urban environments across the U.S. and Canada.
A lifetime member of the Antiochian Archdiocese, Katrina began working with youth during her college years and eventually was tapped to head the YES program after graduating from St. Vladimir's Seminary in 2009. A look at her busy calendar for the first half of 2016 reveals that she will be involved with outreach efforts in Los Angeles, Boston, Austin, Montreal, Newark, Kansas City, Grand Rapids, Portland, and Philadelphia. (Note:This interview was first published in Antiochian.org.)
What is your background, and how did you first get involved with YES?
I was born in Burbank, California, but spent most of my life in Little Falls, NJ. I discovered my youth ministry gifts while serving at the Antiochian Village as a counselor during my college years. In 2001, I took a job as a youth director for a parish in Phoenix, AZ that began my full-time youth ministry work. It was through my work as a parish youth director that I was introduced to the YES Program. I brought some of my young people on the first YES trip in January of 2004, and the rest is history. I began traveling with my teens to cities all over the country to participate in the program, and eventually began leading trips on a part time basis. After I graduated from St. Vladimir's Seminary in 2009, I was asked to direct the program.
Tell us a bit about YES. Whom do you serve, and what is your main emphasis?
The YES Program provides opportunities for junior high, high school, and college students to participate in formative weekends of service that aim to bridge the gap between the rich and the poor and bring youth to an awareness of Christ in themselves and others. Through this experience, we aim to identify and cultivate leadership gifts in trip participants, with the ultimate purpose being to raise up service leaders who will lead others in loving and serving our most needy neighbors in their own communities and on future YES trips.
We spend the majority of our time building community with the people on our trips. We visit homeless ministries, family shelters, after school programs, nursing homes, and spend time with individuals that live on the streets. We also aim to break the mold of what poverty is by sharing fellowship and love with all the people we encounter of all economic levels.
What do you enjoy most about your job?
We hope that the students that experience a YES trip come to a real awareness of who God has created them to be and enter into a life of selfless love for the sake of others. Seeing these young people come to know Christ and their place in the world is inspiring for me and exciting for both them and the communities they are a part of. It is so important for them to see that they are a valuable part of the Lord's workmanship. Their openness to see the Lord in all people is also the fruit of the encounters they have during trips with people that are homeless, children in shelters, and elderly in nursing homes. Our prayer is that they come to know Christ in themselves and serve Him in every person they come in contact with, whether it be their parents or a stranger. Their enthusiasm to love and serve the world is my joy.
If you could communicate one thing to fellow Orthodox Christians about the homeless and poor in our communities, what would it be?
The homeless and working poor communities across the nation are similar in that they are incredibly open to others and have a deep desire for God and connection with people. Most of our ideas of the average person that is homeless are transformed by stretching outside of what is comfortable for us and meeting them where they are. The average age of a homeless person is nine, which speaks volumes. The greatest cause for homelessness in America is simply lack of affordable housing, and most Americans are just two paychecks away from being homeless.
We are all one community of people, impoverished in our own ways. We all experience joy and pain. We always aim focus on the person, not their circumstances. Our concern is for the person, so we aim to build relationships and discover their needs, not assume we know what they are. The Church is called to be for the world, so as members of one Body, we must take the Church to the streets and say to those who are strangers to us, we are one. Building community and recognizing Christ in the other is our approach. It is never us and them, but we.
What feedback do you get from the young people you work with?
Here are a couple testimonies from students that have participated in YES Trips:
"When attending my first YES trip, I was amazed by both the personal and spiritual growth I experienced. As a teenager in a world consumed by materialism and selfish wants, I found it refreshing to spend a weekend de-emphasizing my personal desires and focusing on the needs and wants of those around me. Being able to put other people's desires above my own allowed me to experience a happiness that only could be provided through God's work. My spiritual life was enriched in that throughout the experience I was able to see God's beauty in everything. The people I encountered while serving had such a love for life and God's simple gifts. My heart was opened and changed while serving the community and I have never felt so much love before. YES is a beautiful organization and I believe it is something that everybody should have the honor to experience." - Zan Bojrab
"YES, to me, is about courage. It is about facing the fear of looking someone in the eye and truly wanting to know that person. It is about having the courage to know others and accepting them for everything they embody – their flaws, their struggles, their hopes, and their dreams. It is about having the courage to see yourself for who you are. My experience with YES has taught me that relationships are about more than acceptance of people, but about the courage to honestly and openly see a person with new eyes...no preconceived notions, and, regardless of who they are, to love them for their humanity." - Panayiotis Constantine
Where would you like to see YES go as an organization, in the next five years?
The hope is to have trained leaders all over the country leading trips in different regions. We also hope to create trips for families, college students, and young adults. We are having our first family trip on February 7th. We currently have 33 students that have gone through our annual Leadership Training, and they are assisting with planning and leading trips. God willing, with time and experience, they will soon be leading YES trips and our other college campus initiatives. Our service-learning process and service leadership training is available to all of our Orthodox church communities nationwide.
Every year, the services of Holy Week bring before us selections from the Old Testament, of Jacob, of Joseph and his brothers, the great prophets Moses and Job. We hear the ancient prophecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah with an awareness that everything that has happened before, everything that has been spoken, reaches its fulfillment in our Lord’s passion. During the services, the Gospel passages recount Christ’s final teachings to his disciples, as well as the events that lead to his Passion. As the week moves on, the pace quickens as our Savior hastens to the events that are so familiar to us: the dinner, the trial, the scourging, the haggard procession with the cross, and the brutal crucifixion itself. The Church speaks of an end, but now as the end of this week draws near, we must also speak of the beginning, and understand both what is old and coming to an end, and also what is new and coming to life.
All around us outside, the natural world proclaims this pattern: the sun casts more light upon the earth than night’s darkness. As the prophet says, “For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come.” (Song of Solomon 2.11-12) The Hebrews even reckoned the annual commemoration of the date of Pascha according to this natural order: “In the first month, on the fourteenth day of the month in the evening, is the Lord’s Pascha.” (Lev 23.5-6)
Commenting on the Lord’s Pascha, some Church fathers seized on this idea of annual re-creation and used images from it to describe this liturgical season of the death and resurrection of Christ. Many noted that this was even the traditional time of the original creation of the World; it was a natural transition to see Holy Week and our Lord’s death and resurrection as a recapitulation of that original creation. The new creation begins on Lazarus Saturday and Palm Sunday when our Lord once again separates light from darkness as he calls forth the dead to life. And as the great King and true light of the world, meekly bearing salvation, he enters into his city, Jerusalem, with great acclamation. This great light increases even more as his death, burial, and resurrection draw near. In the face of the brilliant light of our Lord’s passion, the two lights of creation, the sun and the moon, diminish and no longer illumine the world alone. The week goes on, and on this holiest of all Fridays, our God fashions man anew, as his Christ is crucified. From the side of this new Adam will not come a rib, but blood and water, by which he establishes and nourishes the Church. After this will be the Great and Holy Sabbath, the last day of the old creation; God will rest again. And on the next day, the eighth day, the first day of the new Creation, the man of the earth, once bound by death, will be freed in the life of Christ Jesus. There will be a new Creation, peopled by those who have been formed by his word, nourished on the food of his body, and illumined by the light of his power.
Here, on this fifth day, on this Holy Thursday, our attention is drawn to numerous themes – the mystical supper, the scheming of the elders, the treachery of Judas. But let us stop and consider only one event of this day, the washing of the feet. For here again on this fifth day, the waters splash as they did on the original fifth day, not with every sort of sea creature, but with our Savior calling forth a new way of life for his new creation. With the knowledge “that the Father had given all things into his hands,” (Jn. 13.3) the eternal Word of God stoops down and humbly puts his hands in the basin of water to wash his disciples’ feet. By this humble act, as he washes away the filth and grime from feet that trod upon the dusty paths of Palestine and the alleys of Jerusalem, he will create new winged creatures, as man will soar to the heavenly heights of virtue and will keep company with the angels in the presence of God the Father, with his Son, in the Holy Spirit.
The hymnography of Holy Thursday speaks of the washing of the feet as the time “when the disciples were illumined.” Illumination is, of course, also the way the Church speaks of the mystery of Holy Baptism. The Church can use this term for both the washing of the feet and Holy Baptism, because the results are the same: we put on Christ, who is our Teacher and Lord, and strive to be all that he is, by doing what he has commanded. He says as much plainly: “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.” (Jn 13.14-15) This is how the heavenly heights are opened for us: we will ascend to the heavens when we understand what he did to his disciples and for us, and when we follow his command to “wash one another’s feet.”
We should make no mistake; “foot washing” is not an easy task even now, in our world with all the benefits of modern hygiene. The extent of our Lord’s love for us can be seen precisely in this, as he takes the filthy, dirty feet of his disciples and washes them clean. The dirt and grime are precisely what makes this act so beautiful. In that soiled water, our Lord has called forth new life, a life purified and clean. He has called forth life that proclaims power in weakness, the triumph of humility and service, the victory of love, and the death of selfishness. Out of these waters, just like the waters of baptism, he has not called us to be proud or powerful. He has not empowered us to be self-centered or self-interested. He has not challenged us to become successful men or women by the standards of the world. No, he has called us to emulate him. If we have called him our Lord and King at our baptism, we ought to “wash one another’s feet,” just as our Lord and Teacher has done.
On this day, we are given a vision of God’s new creation. For all of us who live in this new creation, “washing one another’s feet” means giving ourselves to one another in all love, humility, and service. The new creation is to be populated by those who are willing to beautifully debase themselves and wash the feet of their brothers and sisters, to offer themselves, to humble themselves, to give entirely of themselves, not being concerned by position, status, authority, pride, pomp, or any consideration other than loving their brother and sister the way the Lord has loved them and in exactly the same fashion.
Fathers, brothers, and sisters, as we stand now at the foot of the steps, ready to ascend to the upper chamber and, as companions of our Lord, to partake of the Divine Word, let us commit ourselves once more to this same Lord, who is going to his voluntary passion for us and for our salvation, to inaugurate a new creation. Let us pray therefore that by emulating in him in our words, deeds, and thoughts, we may find ourselves in that chamber with him and with all those who have been well pleasing to him from all the ages. Amen.
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Archpriest Alexander Rentel (SVOTS ’95) is Assistant Profess or of Canon Law and Byzantine Studies and the John and Paraskeva Skvir Lecturer in Practical Theology. Fr Alexander finished his doctoral dissertation under the direction of Fr Robert Taft, SJ, at the Pontifical Oriental Institute in Rome in January 2004. Prior to coming to St Vladimir’s as a professor, Fr Alexander was a 2000-2001 Junior Fellow in Byzantine Studies at Dumbarton Oaks, Washington, D.C. He has taken numerous research trips to Greece, Italy, and France. He was ordained to the priesthood in July 2001. He and his wife, Nancy (née Homyak, SVOTS ’95) are the proud parents of three children, Dimitrios, Maria, and Daniel.
“Great are you, O Lord, and marvelous are your works, and there is no word which suffices to hymn your wonders!”
These words, which come from the blessing of water at the baptismal service and at the water blessing on Theophany, are probably not the first words that come to mind now, at the midpoint of Holy Week. (The matins of Holy Thursday, a rich and beautiful service, is usually celebrated on the evening of Holy Wednesday. In many parishes in North America, however, the Service of Anointing is celebrated at that time, and the matins service is omitted.) This is hardly a time for celebration.
We are now at the point in Holy Week when things go from bad to worse. The shouts of “Hosanna” have long faded, and the crowds will soon be yelling “Crucify him! Crucify him!” The religious authorities, threatened by Jesus’ popularity and his assaults on their traditions, are plotting to kill him. The civil authorities have their own agendas, focused on maintaining their positions of power and preserving the pax Romana. Judas, one of the Twelve, is laying his own plans to betray the Master even as he eats and drinks at the Last Supper with the Lord and the other disciples. And immediately after the supper, the disciples begin to argue among themselves about which of them is the greatest. Soon, the disciples will abandon him as he undergoes the passion. Peter will deny him three times, and all the apostles will scatter after Jesus’ arrest. Only a few women remain faithful as they accompany him at his crucifixion, and later as they come to anoint his dead body—and for this reason they become the first witnesses to the resurrection.
No one knows or comprehends the cosmic events that are taking place. The world at large is completely oblivious, and the story of Jesus leaves almost no mark on the official historical records of the day. The Jewish nation rejects the Messiah as, at best, another prophet who met a sad end—he was certainly not the triumphant, worldly king they were expecting. Jesus’ followers, bewildered and confused, give up. Even the women who remain faithful do so not because they understand the significance of what is happening, but because of the personal love they feel for him.
And what about us, who gather together some two thousand years later to remember these events? As the texts of the Holy Week services make abundantly clear, we are just like those weak, sinful individuals portrayed in the scripture readings and in the hymnography. Indeed, it is to us that these texts are addressed. We are just like those crowds that yell “Hosanna” one day, and a few days later crucify our Lord. We do this whenever we despise or ignore our neighbor, who is the living image of Christ. We do this when, like the Pharisees, we concern ourselves more with the externals of the faith than with the law of love. We do this when, like Judas, we value the thirty pieces of silver more than the gift of eternal life.
For the Holy Week liturgical cycle functions as one big parable: a story that first draws us in, and then pulls the rug out from under us as it reveals the weakness of all our own arguments, our own rationalizations. We think that it is the Jews who are responsible for crucifying Christ—and at one time people calling themselves Orthodox Christians would launch pogroms against Jews on these days. We may even consider that some of the Holy Thursday and Holy Friday texts are anti-Semitic, and we fail to realize that they are actually speaking about us. For it is by our own sins and actions that we crucify Christ. It is we who stand condemned.
These Holy Week services thus paint a dark picture of the fallen world in which we live. This is a world in which darkness reigns, where individuals and nations commit the vilest atrocities and genocides. Modernity, despite bring much improvement of the lives of so many people, has also made the extermination of entire peoples ever more efficient and impersonal. Our cities are full of suffering and crime, and that in the richest nation on this earth. And in many parts of the world, conditions are far worse.
In short, these services unmask the reality of this world, a reality we try so hard to conceal even from ourselves. Like the emperor in the familiar fairy tale, we are revealed as having no clothes. Or, in the language of the exaposteilarion that we sing at the matins services from Monday to Thursday of this week, we have no “wedding garment” to enter into the bridal chamber.
Yet it is only when we become aware of this absolute emptiness that we can begin to understand why it was necessary for Christ to come into the world in order to overcome this darkness. We begin to see this now, as Christ first washes the feet of his disciples, then offers his Body and Blood to us in anticipation of his own death on the Cross for our sake. He, and He alone, is under no delusion. He alone sees this fallen world for what it is—a world that rejects its Maker. And yet, as we hear in John’s Gospel, God so loved the world that he sent his only-begotten Son, who, by his presence among us, fills the darkness with light. The One who created the world never stops loving his creation, even when that creation does not return his love and chases after idols.
Later today, as we celebrate the Eucharistic liturgy of Holy Thursday, we shall sing “One is holy, one is the Lord, Jesus Christ.” As we do this, we confess not only that he alone is holy, but also that we, because of our sins, are not. Yet we do this with the certainty that through him, we too become holy, not because of anything that we do or have done, but because he freely bestows his holiness on us. We become holy when, at our baptism and chrismation, we are clothed with the “robe of righteousness.” And we reaffirm this each time that we approach the chalice.
The garment that we lack is provided to us freely by the Master. At the time of Christ, the host would provide a wedding garment to all the guests he invited. They did not have to purchase or earn it for themselves. So, in the familiar parable about the wedding feast, the man who comes without the proper attire does so only because he has rejected the free gift of the garment from the Master (Matt 22:11-13).
Our calling today, as we prepare for the liturgy of Holy Thursday, is not to reject that gift, that festal, baptismal garment, but to accept it with gratitude, knowing full well that we do not deserve it. It is for this that Christ comes to us, and why he accepts to suffer and to die on our behalf. This, even more than the many miracles that Jesus performed during his sojourn among us, is the greatest wonder of all.
“Great are you, O Lord, and marvelous are your works, and there is no word which suffices to hymn your wonders!”
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Dr. Paul Meyendorff (SVOTS ’75) is a leading specialist in the history, theology, and practice of the Orthodox liturgy and is The Father Alexander Schmemann Professor of Liturgical Theology at St. Vladimir’s Seminary.
Come, O faithful, let us work zealously for the Master; for he distributes wealth to his servants.
Let each of us, according to his or her ability increase the talent of grace:
let one be adorned in wisdom through good works; let another celebrate a service in splendor.
Ihe one distributes his wealth to the poor; the other communicates the word to those untaught.
Thus we shall increase what has been entrusted to us, and, as faithful stewards of grace, we shall be accounted worthy of the Master’s joy.
Make us worthy of this, Christ our God, in your love for mankind.
As more and more people attend and thoughtfully follow the services of Holy Week, many are struck by the incomparably rich hymnography, often sung in unique and evocative melodies. Many of us have favorite hymns, which we greet as friends when they come along each year. There are the landmark hymns of the Bridegroom services, repeated for several nights running. There are, of course, the unforgettable moments of Holy Thursday: “Of Thy Mystical Supper!” The Twelve Gospels! Then Friday: the Burial Shroud! The Lamentations!… Then Saturday and the victorious Prokeimenon! These are like lanterns, lighting our way forward in an otherwise dark terrain.
One of my own favorites is a humbler little hymn (blink and you’ve missed it for the year) sung with the Aposticha at Matins and Vespers on Holy Tuesday. [They hymn’s text is at the beginning of this post.] Why do we sing such a hymn during Holy Week? Let’s spend a minute examining its liturgical context before looking at it more closely.
By the time we sing this hymn, we have entered squarely into the journey to Christ’s life-giving Passion. We have traveled six weeks of Great Lent. We have celebrated the victorious entry of Our Lord into Jerusalem (a bitter victory: Jesus knowingly enters the city where he is to be betrayed and slain). We have heard him preaching with increased intensity against civil and religious hypocrisy and injustice. But as we follow Jesus’s journey, we also direct attention at ourselves. As we Orthodox always do in our penitential hymnography (for example, in the Canon of St. Andrew of Crete), we apply all that hypocrisy, all the examples of pride, lust, murderous intent, to our own lives as we live them. It is not a pretty picture. So we ask God’s forgiveness and beg him to help us to become better human beings.
During Holy Week, this sort of penitence is brought to a high level of intensity, a dosage that we cannot sustain for long. But here we are pushed to our limits, because Our Lord himself, the King of Glory, who made the heavens and the earth, is on his way to being betrayed, abandoned, and slaughtered. Matters do not get any more serious than that. We have to make sure we are paying full attention.
That is why, at the Bridegroom services, usually celebrated on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday evenings of Holy Week, we pray for several things surrounding the theme of bring ourselves into realization of who we are and what is happening:
We ask God to “illumine the vesture of our souls,” to purify us, to give us appropriate clothing in order to celebrate properly the Feast of Feasts.
We remind our own selves to be wakeful and watchful, rouse ourselves out of our slumber, to penetrate the usual half-awake state of our minds and hearts.
We contemplate scriptural images as lessons or as inspiration. The common theme to all these services is that of the Bridegroom (Christ) who comes in the middle of the night and finds some who are prepared, others for whom it is now too late. But on different evenings we sing about the withered fig tree, the betrayal of Judas, and – as a positive image – the repentant harlot who wipes Jesus’s feet with her tears and hair.
It is within this broader context, then, that we come to that Holy Tuesday hymn, in which we urge each other to do the particular work that God has given us to do. Let’s look through it to see what it is saying, and why people may be attracted to it.
We goad each other to work zealously. Don’t almost do something, or just thing about doing it, or do it in a half-baked way. Do it, and do it well for the sake of God.
Notice that God gives the wedding garment. God gives the talent. Without this initial gift, we have nothing, we are nothing. But once we realize that God has filled our otherwise empty vessels, it is very much up to us to take up that gift and to act on it.
When God distributes his gifts, he is not using a cookie cutter to form identical little shapes. He is not drawing a uniform pattern for us to imitate like robots. We are different from each other; we do not strive to conform to a single model, even if sometimes the image of a virtuous person in the Church’s Tradition seems frustratingly uniform. In iconography and spiritual literature (depending on where we’re looking) we might find a preponderance of monks, bishops, and virgins. But if we look closer, we find a message applicable to school teachers, social workers, bankers, moms, dads, writers, sanitation workers – people from all walks of life and different talents.
When it begins enumerating tasks, our hymn encourages us to “do good work” – whatever our station of life, whatever our vocation. Then it identifies specific vocations – but let us take note how these are both particular and universal in character.
One “celebrates a service in splendor.” (When I was sacristan during my student days at St. Vladimir’s Seminary, I watched as Fr. Paul Lazor, the consummate liturgical celebrant, made a large and meaningful sign of the cross over himself during that line.) Although this verse does carry a particular, clerical meaning, doesn’t it also pertain to our corporate celebration of the liturgy? All of us celebrate the liturgy in splendor when we participate meaningfully in it. Going still further, can this not also pertain to any way in which we – whether lay or ordained – as “priests” offer the world to God, making our whole life a creative service of splendor?
In the Divine Liturgy we pray for “those who remember the poor.” Is helping the poor, then, something that someone else always does? No. Although we recognize realistically that not everyone is called to make his or her whole life a service to the poor, none of us is off the hook in the basic, universal, Christ-imitating vocation of ministry to the poor, solidarity with the outcast, speaking out against injustice.
While teaching the Word applies in a particular way to teachers and catechists, don’t we all impart knowledge and wisdom – both explicitly and implicitly Christian Truth – in our various vocations (not least those of us who are parents or godparents)?
Wherever we are, whatever we do, whatever our station in life our task is to build upon what we have been given. First, of course, we have to identify the gift, and that is not always simple. But by understanding the gift and recalling that it indeed comes from God himself, we can build on it. The gospels tell us that wasting our talents is one of the things that seriously displeases God. But we pray that, if we recognize and work with our gifts, we will be “deemed worthy of the Master’s joy,” a joy that is beyond anything that we can imagine.
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Peter Bouteneff (SVOTS ’90) teaches courses in ancient and modern theology and spirituality at St Vladimir’s Orthodox Seminary, where he is Professor of Systematic Theology and Director of Institutional Assessment.
On December 18, 2015, the Daytona Beach News-JournalOnlinepublished a story,"Hospital chaplains a source of calm, assurance for patients and staff,"in which alumnus Joshua Schooping (M.Div. 2014, M.Th. 2015) was featured. Reporter Jim Haug noted that the work of hospital chaplains is both "delicate and demanding," and added that the chaplain residency program of which Joshua is a participant, is a first for Florida Hospital DeLand, a member of the Adventist Health System.
Reflected the SVOTS alumnus in the article, "There’s a lot of grace that goes along with it....Really, I think the goal is to build relationships, rather than fix a problem. We talk to people on whatever level they're at. We meet them where they are."
Remember: you are bread." During my time at St. Vladimir's Seminary, Fr. Chad Hatfield closed a lenten reflection with this exhortation. I only understood his words after seminary when I experienced the hunger of the crowds that surround Christ. As an SVS alumnus, I work in Guatemala where thousands of Maya Indians have converted to the Orthodox Church. Every day feels like the feeding of the five thousand. People cry out for nourishment from Christ—for comfort and support, for teaching, for healthcare—and then they look to me in their hunger. So I offer myself as bread to the people of Guatemala, nourishing them in their times of need.
The first moment of need came immediately after I arrived in Guatemala in April of 2015. After touching down, I received word that Fr. Antonio Patá—one of the six Guatemalan priests—had fallen gravely ill. Only one year before, the people had lost Fr. Andres Girón who guided them into Orthodoxy. Now I arrived in Guatemala right as a new wave of sorrow fell upon the mission. Exhausted from my own transition to a foreign culture, I felt like I was empty and had only crumbs to offer to the people. So I prayed to God to multiply my small offering of solidarity as I accompanied the priests and spent time in the parishes.
Our sorrow deepened on July 19th when Fr. Antonio passed away. Thousands gathered to mourn and these people often were drawn to me because they could tell I came from abroad (few Guatemalans stand over six feet tall!). During the wake, one person clung to me and cried into my shoulder. Another collapsed on the floor in front of me, wailing, "Fr. Andres left us and now Fr. Antonio too!" What could I offer to them? When I stood before the crowds to preach at the wake, I described how parishes throughout the world had answered our requests for prayer: in Egypt, Japan, the USA, and more. "You are not alone in the Church," I said to them. My own words helped me realize how God was multiplying what I offered in Guatemala. My presence meant more to the people than just myself. The people were drawn to me because I had become a symbol of the mystery of the entire Church, a visual testimony of our fellowship in Christ. That mystery of Christ was the bread that nourished these crowds when I spoke.
After the funeral, I shifted my energies towards teaching. Initially, I spent time in the parishes in the coastal areas of Guatemala, giving catechetical talks and leading reader's services. In September, however, I moved to the mountainous areas to live in a village called Aguacate. Here I mentor a group of pre-seminarians, leading them in daily services, giving talks on liturgics and theology, and preparing Spanish resources. These printed resources are powerful because they reach so many communities, not only in Guatemala but even in other countries. When I prepared new books for Vespers and Matins, I received requests for copies from people in North American and even Europe. It is amazing to see how God multiplies our offerings!
Finally, the need for healthcare has shaped my time in Guatemala. During the summer, I translated for two mission teams that assisted with medical clinics here. In Aguacate I continue to translate for visiting doctors and health care professionals who volunteer in our clinic. I also teach English to the local woman who will become the clinic administrator. We need someone who can translate directly from English to Chuj (the local Maya language) and she agreed to take this role. Local people like the clinic administrator will be further examples of the feeding of the five thousand. I humbly offer them what I can, and they will multiply that offering in their own lives as they nourish thousands of others throughout Guatemala.
"Remember," Fr. Chad says, "you are bread." God calls each of us to see the world's hunger for Him, whether in Guatemala or another country. He calls us to become the nourishment that the world seeks. Although we usually offer mere crumbs, God multiplies what we give and spreads His nourishing bread throughout the earth.
Download Jesse's latest project, a Spanish prayer book that includes daily vespers, daily matins (greatly shortened because of pastoral concerns), a few selected hymns, personal prayers for various occasions, and a preparation for confession. Digital Version Print Version
To follow news from the mission in Guatemala,you can "like" Jesse's missionary page. Jesse works in Guatemala through the Orthodox Christian Mission Center (OCMC), the pan-Orthodox missions organization endorsed by the Assembly of Bishops. To learn more, visit www.OCMC.org.
As an experienced labor and delivery nurse, an educator, a mother, a doula, a writer and editor, Mat. Amy wears many hats, but she explains that she "spends a lot of time thinking on her role as a new Matushka." As such, she graciously opened up a slot in her busy itinerary to be interviewed for Svots.edu about what St. Vladimir's has meant and continues to mean to her and Fr. David, and what advice she would offer to today's seminarians and their wives.
Mat. Amy, how did you first respond to seminary upon arrival?
Before Fr. David and I went to seminary, a good friend who had gone to SVS before us, had given us the great advice of "Don't have any expectations of your seminary experience!" I've learned that many of our disappointments in life are often related to our own failed expectations, so our difficulties can be of our own making. It seems that people post-SVS tend to either romanticize or vilify their seminary experiences; this is often based on how their expectations were fulfilled, either positively or negatively. Often one's experiences are formed by one's expectations and whether they succeed or fail. So abandoning unrealistic expectations before seminary was great advice and something I really tried to do.
What adjustments did you make while you were here?
What worked for our situation was to set aside expectations of the school and people, and be open to what God had for us. St. Vladimir's is first and foremost a school—an academic institution—and we tried to remember that while experiencing a lot of grace and meeting many amazing people in the process. What was really difficult was meeting so many wonderful people and not having enough time to hang out with them! (Laughter)
I quickly realized that I wasn't going to be able to get in on everything that was going on. Having a full time night job as a labor and delivery nurse during our first year was often hard because I felt like I was missing out on the community life. Living in a tiny apartment and working so much, combined with so many expectations of SVS community life, led me to feeling very dissapointed at the time.
Our second year improved when I made some job schedule adjustments and we were able to move up to Lakeside apartments. More importantly, I started to really listen to some wise counsel from my father confessor: I allowed myself to miss things and gave myself permission not to participate in everything. Good boundaries also became very important—which became such a valuable life lesson for me. I now realize all these life lessons we learned at SVS are so,soimportant in parish life!
Ultimately, our whole family loved the time at seminary. It's not the property or buildings that make the seminary, it's the amazing people. There's so much joy, sorrow, frustration, etc., contained in those three years. My husband says it was the "best three years of his life." My husband felt very inspired at St. Vladimir's. The time is very compressed and you're being very intentional, living more in the present, and our relationships and friendships during those years continue on today.
Tell us about life after seminary!
In a brand new mission parish, I quickly realized that while a priest's job is very specific, the Matushka's role is non-specific, and is individualized. All Matushki are different and are able to contribute to the parish in different ways. I've learned that I will always need to be flexible as our parish grows, especially because our mission plans to do a lot! Really, our parish wants my presence—they want me around. I feel very loved! The difficulty lies in my work schedule. I can't always be there, so again, setting expectations and boundaries are still playing a big role in our lives. I also have mourned the loss of anonymity, since once you are a priest's wife you really lose that. Your last chance to "worship anonymously" is at seminary. That can be difficult to adjust to for not only the Matushka, but also the priest's children.
The last three years have found me adjusting my work schedule and commute so that it works not only for my family and our finances but also for our parish community. It is a big balancing act! Communication of expectations with the parish is vital and if I hadn't worked through these things at seminary, I wouldn't have been as prepared.
What boundaries have you needed, now that you are serving in a parish?
Father David and I are careful about discussing church issues in our home and Fr. David tells me about problems only on a "need to know" basis. He leaves out the parish council details! (Laughter) And I've learned an invaluable response to the numerous questions our parishioners ask: "Ask Father!"
In parish life you don't have all the resources that you have at seminary, such as all the close friendships and wisdom. If asked, I always encourage seminarians to nourish their relationships while here and after graduation, because they will often need these friends and the seminary network long after leaving!
