Second-year Seminarian Brian Crivella gave this homily during our daily Matins service in Three Hierarchs Chapel, Thursday, October 12, 2017, as part of his Master of Divinity program coursework requirement. The Gospel reading for the day was Luke 9.7–11, and Seminarian Brian especially concentrated on verse 10:

And the apostles, when they had returned,
told Him all that they had done.
Then He took them and went aside privately into a deserted place
belonging to the city called Bethsaida.

Before enrolling at St. Vladimir’s Seminary, Seminarian Brian was a member of St. Nicholas Orthodox Church, Mentor, OH, Orthodox Church in America, Diocese of the Midwest, and had spent nearly 8 years on active duty in the U.S. Coast Guard—performing search and rescue missions on the Great Lakes, and even patrolling the Caribbean Sea to catch drug smugglers and traffickers!

We are pleased to share Seminarian Brian’s labor and good words with you.

“Following Jesus to a deserted place”

In the name of The Father, and The Son, and The Holy Spirit. Amen

Today, Luke tells us of a man who seems to have it all. He has servants who attend his every want. His home is huge. Everyone wants to see him, to have his ear. Herod is a king, and on top of the world. But Herod is perplexed.

There is a Man, a Man performing all sorts of miracles. Who is He?

One of the old prophets had risen again, they whisper. Others declare it is Elijah, who has appeared as foretold.  But then the bombshell: it is John. John the Baptist had risen from the dead.

When he hears this, imagine how Herod must have reacted. Imagine his face falls dark. His brow furrows. His nostrils flare. He declares, “John I have beheaded,” asserting his control of the situation.

And, indeed, John he did behead. Because despite all he has, Herod is empty. Despite all his friends, Herod is lonely. Despite his total authority and control, Herod is helpless. There is something deep inside that Herod doesn’t fully understand: a gnawing, a deep emptiness and despair.

Herod is not any different from us. Especially us. Like Herod, our lives are filled with worldly luxury and conveniences.

The world tries to convince us to fill ourselves with our carnal desires in order to feel happy, to feel satisfied. If we just had the right stuff, the right people, or went to the right places, we’d feel happier. Right?

But the things that are supposed to make us happy, don’t keep us happy. The things that are supposed to satisfy us don’t satisfy us.

We tell ourselves, “You know, if I were just more popular, I’d be happy. If more people really knew me and about me, they’d love me.” So we spend all day on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter. We don’t get anything done. Then, when we finally turn off our phones and look around, we find ourselves alone.

So, maybe, what we need to do is to take a trip? To see something new, experiencing something fun, something exotic or relaxing? A trip to the beach…a trip out of town…a trip to the game?

But soon we find ourselves back home, back where we started. We’ve seen something new, but our life remains the same. We’ve gone to relax, but now we’re back to our stressful job, our stressful school, our stressful relationships—all of them unchanged.

We tell ourselves, “Let’s go see the new movie.” We grab the newest game…newest iPhone…newest car. New, new, new. “New” will make us happy.

But the newness wears off. We take our things for granted. They get stale, old, boring.

The crazy thing is, the more we try to fix our broken feelings, the more we inevitably feed into them. We become lonelier, sadder, emptier.

But this is how the world says to fix it. Yet, it doesn’t fix it.

But there is a way to fill this ache, this gnawing within each and every one of us. There’s someone that can help us cope with the deep brokenness that we all experience and struggle with. Someone whom we can follow, who will heal us.

To Bethsaida the multitudes follow Him, even when He seemed far away, “in a private place.” Yet as soon as they hear that He is there, these multitudes, these great groups of people, drop everything to follow after Jesus—not their jobs, not their toys, not their school, not their social standing or friends; they follow after Him.

When we follow Jesus, we no longer follow after ourselves or the world. When we follow Jesus, we don’t need to fix ourselves.

Just as the multitudes did, we receive what we really need to be satisfied. We receive Jesus Christ; Jesus Christ, who bears all our burdens, pains, longings, and shortcomings with us—our struggle with our shortcomings, our failings, or the pain in our past. Christ carries them, with us, to the Cross.

Follow him. It doesn’t matter if He’s far away, privately with His 12 disciples. The multitudes followed Him there. We follow Him there, with them. Christ gives us the very strength to do it. Christ gives us the strength to forgo the empty desires of this world, just like the multitudes.

As we put down our phone and spend time with those around us, in person, attentive to them, we are following after Christ.

As we travel—not for our entertainment nor for our enjoyment but for the sake of another who cannot leave their home, their hospital bed, or their prison—we are following after Christ.

As the precious extra time and money we’re blessed with finds itself spent on giving good things to our neighbors who have nothing or food to all those who are starving, we are following after Christ.

As we stop following after the way of this world, we are transformed in Christ, and our mind is renewed.

Today, we follow Christ where He resides privately with His disciples in Bethsaida. We give thanks for all that He has born with us. And as we draw ever nearer to Him, we bless and fill others with good things in His name. In this way we are truly fulfilled and truly satisfied.

Glory to God!

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This reflection is by  Alumnus Archpriest Steven Kostoff (Master of Divinity ’81), pastor of Christ the Savior-Holy Spirit Orthodox Church, in Norwood, Ohio. He references the Akathist Hymn titled, “Glory to God for All Things,” also sometimes known as the “Akathist of Thanksgiving.” This remarkable hymn, attributed to Metropolitan Tryphon (Prince Boris Petrovich Turkestanov, +1934), was found among the effects of Protopresbyter Gregory Petrov, upon his death in a prison camp in 1940. The most commonly used title for the hymn was taken from the words of St. John Chrysostom, as he lay dying in exile—words of praise arising from amidst terrible sufferings.

Fall officially begins at 4:02 p.m. (East Coast time) on Friday, September 22. And that means later today. From my personal—and, admittedly, “subjective”—perspective, there is nothing quite like the fall among the four seasons. For me, one of this season’s greatest attractions is found in the flaming red, orange, yellow, and golden leaves that transform familiar trees into a series of neighborhood “burning bushes,” each one seemingly brighter than the other. When combined with a piercing blue sky on a sunlit day and a certain crispness in the air, I find myself more vividly aware of the surrounding world and thankful for God’s creation.

On a somewhat more “philosophical note”—more apt to emerge, perhaps, on an overcast, windswept day—we may realize that this “colorful death” signals the fleeting nature of everything beautiful in this world, “for the form of this world is passing away” [1 Cor 7.31]. And yet this very beauty, and the sense of yearning that accompanies it, is a sign of the beauty ineffable of the coming Kingdom of God and our restless desire to behold and experience that beauty.

Growing up on a typical city block in Detroit, I distinctly recall a neighborhood “ritual” that marked this particular season: the raking and burning of leaves that went on up and down the entire block once most of the leaves had spiraled and floated to the ground. Everyone on the block raked the leaves down toward the street and into neatly formed mounds of color that rested alongside the curb. Then they were lit, and the task of raking now became that of tending and overseeing the piles of burning leaves. This usually occurred after dinner for most families, but one could still see the shimmering waves of heat that protected one from the early evening chill and the ascending ashes rushing upward. Please momentarily forgive my politically incorrect indifference to the environment, but I thoroughly enjoyed those small bonfires near the curb as the pungent smell of burning leaves filled the air. This unmistakable smell would, as I recall, linger in the air for a couple of weeks or more as different neighbors got to the task at different times.

The entire scene embodied the wholesomeness of a 1950s first-grade reading primer, as “Mom” and “Dad,” together with “Dick” and “Jane” (and perhaps “Spot,” the frisky family dog) smilingly cooperated in this joint, familial enterprise. The reading primer would reformulate this “celebration” of healthy work and a neatly ordered environment into a staccato of minimally complex sentences: “See Dad rake”; “Dick and Jane are raking too”; “Here comes mom!” This all served to increase the budding student’s vocabulary while reinforcing a picture of an idealized—if not idyllic—American way of life.

Since my parents were peasants from a Macedonian village, we never quite fit into that particular mold—especially when my mother would speak to me in Macedonian in front of my friends! And yet I distinctly remember teaching my illiterate mother to read from those very “Dick and Jane” primers so that she could obtain her American citizenship papers, which she proudly accomplished in due time.

Before getting too nostalgic, however, I will remind you that this wholesome way of life— something of an urban idyll—was taking place at the height of Cold War anxiety. This, in turn, evokes another clear memory from my youth: the air raid drills in our schools that were meant to prepare us and protect us from a Soviet nuclear strike. (Khrushchev’s shoe-pounding exhibition at the United Nations, together with his ominous “We will bury you!” captured the whole mood of this period.) These carefully executed air raid drills were carried out with due solemnity and seriousness—lines straight and no talking allowed! We would wind our way down into a fairly elaborate—if not labyrinthine—series of basement levels that were seemingly constructed, and thus burdened, with the hopeless task of saving us from nuclear bombs! We would then sit in neatly formed rows monitored by our teachers (apparently oblivious to the real dangers of the Cold War world) until the “all clear” signal was given, allowing us to file back to our classrooms. Thus did the specter of the mushroom cloud darken the sunny skies of “Dick” and “Jane’s” age of innocence.

I must acknowledge that my short nostalgic digression does not offer a great deal for reflection. So as not to entirely frustrate that purpose—and because I began with some brief reflections on the created world—I would like to offer some of the wonderful praises of the beauty of the world around us from the remarkable Akathistos Hymn, “Glory to God for All Things.”

This hymn, which has become quite popular in many Orthodox parishes, is said to have been composed by an Orthodox priest when he was slowly perishing in a Soviet prison camp in 1940. In unscientific, yet theological-poetic imagery, he reminds us of what we are often blind to: God’s glorious creation. Would he have “missed” all of this if his life were as free as ours are to be preoccupied with daily concerns and cares that leave no time or room to look around in wonder?

O Lord, how lovely it is to be Your guest. Breeze full of scents; mountains reaching to the skies; waters like boundless mirrors, reflecting the sun’s golden rays and the scudding clouds. All nature murmurs mysteriously, breathing the depth of tenderness. Birds and beasts of the forest bear the imprint of Your love. Blessed are you, mother earth, in your fleeting loveliness, which wakens our yearning for happiness that will last forever. In the land where, amid beauty that grows not old, rings out the cry: Alleluia! [Kontakion 2].

You have brought me into life as if into an enchanted paradise. We have seen the sky like a chalice of deepest blue, where in the azure heights the birds are singing. We have listened to the soothing murmur of the forest and the melodious music of the streams. We have tasted fruit of fine flavor and the sweet-scented honey. We can live very well on Your earth. It is a pleasure to be Your guest. [Ikos 2].

I see Your heavens resplendent with stars. How glorious You are, radiant with light! Eternity watches me by the rays of the distant stars. I am small, insignificant, but the Lord is at my side. Your right arm guides me wherever I go. [Ikos 5].

His words bring to mind Dostoevsky’s enigmatic phrase: “Beauty will save the world.”

By Archpriest Steven Kostoff (Master of Divinity ’81). Our alumnus Fr. Steven Kostoff, has made education and teaching a central part of his priesthood.

As pastor of Christ the Savior-Holy Spirit Orthodox Church, in Norwood, OH, he has established an annual regimen of insightful studies to nourish and build up his flock: a multi-week Summer Bible Study, a six-week long Fall Adult Education Class, a special Winter Reading Circle in which a work of classic literature is discussed, and an occasional parish-wide discussion event, concentrated for an evening or two on key topics of interest. These are in addition to his classes for catechumens and his burgeoning church school.

Moreover, Fr. Steven is an Adjunct Faculty Member at Xavier University, Cincinnati, OH, where he teaches “The Eastern Orthodox Church”; “Christian Mysticism”; and “The Russian Religious Mind.” (He earned his undergraduate degree at Wayne State University in Russian Studies). And, he is the author of The Divine Liturgy: Meaning, Preparation & Practice (Synaxis Press).

Homily, May 25, 2017

According to the mind of the Church, the Risen Lord is also the Ascended Lord. In the words of Father Georges Florovsky, “In the Ascension resides the meaning and the fullness of Christ’s Resurrection.” Though the visible presence of the Risen Lord ended 40 days after His Resurrection, that did not mean that His actual presence was withdrawn. Christ solemnly taught His disciples—and us through them—“Behold, I am with you always, to the close of the age” [Matthew 28:20]. The risen, ascended and glorified Lord is the Head of His body, the Church. The Lord remains present in the Mysteries/Sacraments of the Church. This reinforces our need to participate in the sacramental life of the Church, especially the Eucharist, through which we receive the deified flesh and blood of the Son of God “unto life everlasting.”

Christ ascended to be seated at “the right hand of the Father” in glory, thus lifting up the human nature He assumed in the Incarnation into the very inner life of God. Once the Son of God became the Son of Man, taking our human nature through suffering and death—”the Passover”—and then rising from the dead and ascending to heaven, at no point in this paschal mystery did He discard or leave His human nature behind. For all eternity, Christ is Theanthropos—God and man. The deified humanity of the Lord is the sign of our future destiny “in Christ.” For this reason, the Apostle Paul could write, “your life is hidden with Christ in God” [Colossians 3:3].

The words of the “two men … in white robes” (clearly angels) who stood by the disciples as they gazed at Christ being “lifted up” as recorded by Saint Luke in Acts 1:11, point toward something very clear and essential for us to grasp as members of the Church who continue to exist within the historical time of the world: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, Who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him go into heaven.” The disciples will remain in the world, and must fulfill their vocation as the chosen apostles who will proclaim the Word of God to the world of the crucified and risen Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. They cannot spend their time gazing into heaven awaiting the return of the Lord. That hour has not been revealed: “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by His own authority” [1:7]. The “work” of the Church is the task set before them, and they must do this until their very last breath. They will carry out this work once they receive the power of the Holy Spirit—the “promise of My Father”—as Christ said to them in Luke 24:49.

Whatever our vocation may be, we too witness to Christ and the work of the Church as we await the fullness of God’s Kingdom according to the times or seasons of the Father. If we believe in the resurrected and ascended Lord, then we are “witnesses” of Him and to Him to the world. That witness may express itself in words or deeds—or both. Of course, we need to follow the teaching of the Apostle Paul who wrote: “Set your minds on things above, not on things that are on earth” [Colossians 3:2]. Yet, keeping our “minds on things above” has nothing to do with escaping into a dream-like fantasy world or the abandonment of earthly responsibilities under the pretext of a vague mystical inclination or “pseudo-piety.” It is about an awareness that the Kingdom of God is “in our midst” and that our earthly life is a preparation for the life to come, a life we are yearning for with our whole heart. It is that awareness that makes all of our earthly struggles and accomplishments meaningful. And when the Apostle Paul teaches us not to set our minds “on things that are on earth,” he does not mean that there is nothing of value that is on earth. He is referring to the “worldliness” of questionable—or clearly sinful—pursuits that draw our minds away inexorably from “things above.” We are prone to forget about heaven when we concentrate solely on the earth. For this reason alone it is so important to develop a life of prayer, a time when we can “set our minds on things above,” strengthening us for the struggles of our daily life, and keeping the Person of Christ ever before our inward gaze.

In our daily Prayer Rule we continue to refrain from using “O Heavenly King” until the Day of Pentecost. We no longer sing the Paschal Troparion, “Christ is risen from the dead,” but replace it from Ascension to Pentecost with the Troparion of the Ascension: “Thou hast ascended in glory, O Christ our God, granting joy to Thy disciples by the promise of the Holy Spirit. Through the Blessing they were assured that Thou art the Son of God, the Redeemer of the world!”

“When Christ who is our life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory” [Colossians 3:4]

Tristan Gall

Father Sergius Halvorsen (Assistant Professor of Homiletics and Rhetoric) and I recently attended the National Festival of Young Preachers in Dallas, TX, which took place the weekend of January  2-5, 2015. I had no idea what to expect when I accepted Fr. Sergius' invitation. At the orientation session, as we sat in a large banquet hall listening to the opening "motivational" homilies, I found myself overwhelmed, intimidated, and outnumbered by the Southern Protestant ethos. Yet I walked away from the festival knowing three things: I saw a lot of effective preaching; I have many more ideas; and I received a crash-course, three-day lesson in contemporary Christian American expression.

The theme for this year's festival was "Tell Me a Story." This theme really enabled us young preachers to incorporate narrative and imagery into our homilies, thereby making them very personal and personable. This theme, mixed with a predominantly Southern American Christian flavor, provided an enthusiastic, colorful, and energetic atmosphere. I was able to witness the responsive and dynamic character of preaching outside of the Orthodox Christian tradition in which I was born and raised. I wondered, "How will listeners respond to my sermon?"—because in content and presentation it differed dramatically from most of the ones I had heard. Although this thought contributed to some anxiety, I was moved by how gentle, kind, and truly Christian people I encountered were throughout my days at the festival.

Our presence at the festival as Orthodox Christians almost always elicited a positive reaction from other preachers. The blessing of meeting a handful of bewildered, inquisitive, surprised, and thirsty preachers ready to hear about the Orthodox faith made my trip all the more worthwhile. Attending the festival also really helped me, especially as a cradle Orthodox, to understand our American culture more deeply. Different groups of people from different socio-economic and cultural backgrounds find meaning in the gospel that resonates with their life history and experience in so many diverse ways. This might be obvious, but it impressed me at a whole new level when I was present at the festival, heard the variety of homilies, and witnessed the reactions of the listeners.

Indeed, it's not every day that an Orthodox seminarian, a Dominican priest, and a Charismatic Protestant Christian sit around a table to share teachings and experiences with one another for hours! 

Tristan Gall is a third-year M.Div. student and a member of Ss. Peter and Paul Orthodox Church in Crossingville, PA. Born in Erie, PA, he earned a Bachelor of Arts, a teaching credential, and a Masters in Education, all from Edinboro University in PA. Before attending seminary, Tristan worked as a first-grade teacher. His fiancée, Mary, is a doctoral student of Ancient Christianity at Yale University. Tristan and Mary plan to tie the knot in the summer of 2015.

John Mikitish

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lijin Raju

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seraphim Long

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ian Abodeely

In the first week of August, 2014, third-year seminarian Ian Abodeely attended the biennial, pan-Orthodox conference of the Western Rite Vicariate of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America (AOCANA). The Vicariate oversees parishes and missions within the Archdiocese that worship according to traditional Western Christian liturgical forms. Ian recorded these reflections at the close of the conference.

I was the house organist and music coordinator for the conference. I had the responsibility of organizing and leading the music for all of the services, including providing preludes and postludes. We had the organ works of Bach, Dupre, Vaughn Williams, Charpentier, Purcell, Byrd, and others. The services were sung using the traditional Gregorian modes.

We sat "in choir" and chanted the psalms antiphonally during the Daily Office, and experienced the waves of chant that it produces. This manner of prayer is so calming and centering that I often wish we did something similar in the Byzantine Rite. 

We had Lauds, followed by Mass every morning and Vespers in the evening. We alternated the two rites used in the Vicariate: the St. Gregory (Roman Rite) and the St. Tikhon Rite (English Use). So some mornings we had Lauds, others we had Morning Prayer. Some evenings we had Vespers, and others we had Evensong. But all of our days were rooted in the celebration of the Mass. Our first full day was the Feast of the Transfiguration which we celebrated with a Solemn High Mass, with Bishop John Abdalah (Alumnus '84)  presiding from the throne. The light and wonder of the feast certainly flowed through the entirety of the conference and made our time of fellowship and prayer that much richer. The conference had many wonderful speakers, including our own Fr. Chad Hatfield, who spoke on the ascetical tradition of the Church as a way of evangelism. 

I was born and raised in the Antiochian Archdiocese, attending a Byzantine Rite parish. I fell in love with Byzantine Chant at an early age, and with my musical training as an organist I had a deep appreciation for the sacred music of the West. It wasn't until college that I became acquainted with the Western Rite of our Archdiocese, under the tutelage of The Very. Rev. Edward Hughes (Alumnus '80), who had been appointed Vicar General of the Western Rite Vicariate, in addition to serving as pastor of my home parish. I had always been interested in the liturgy and liturgical practice, so this was a great opportunity to put together my musical training and my love for the Liturgy.

My appointment as organist and choir director at St. Stephen Orthodox Church in Springfield, MA in 2009 provided another opportunity for study and entering more deeply into the liturgical life of the Western Rite. It was there that I learned to pray in a new way, one that encourages silence not just in one's private prayers, but in the liturgy itself. It was very difficult at first, but over time I've grown to love and treasure the Western Rite. 

Many people are confused as to why a "cradle" like me would be involved with the Western Rite, and I don't really have an answer as to what drew me to it, but I have seen the Holy Spirit at work in these parishes, and I believe God has restored to the Orthodox Church a rite that is most important to our evangelism. It has been said that the Western Rite forces us to think about what being Orthodox really means, and helps us remember that it is faith in Jesus Christ and the teachings of his Church that unite us, not just the liturgy of St. John Chrysostom.

I can only encourage all Orthodox Christians to "come and see" and experience the Western Rite for themselves. It took me a while to get used to praying in a different way, so I'd encourage more than one visit. It is so different from our Byzantine Rite that it does take time to get used to and to enter into, but it is so very worth the effort.

By the Reverend Dr. Philip LeMasters

Father Philip is Professor of Christian Ethics here at St. Vladimir’s, and a member of the Board of Trustees. He also is Professor of Religion and Director of the Honors Program at McMurry University in Abilene, Texas, and the pastor of St. Luke’s Orthodox Church. Father Philip is the author of several books in the area of moral theology, most recently, The Forgotten Faith: Ancient Insights for Contemporary Believers from Eastern Christianity (Cascade Books 2013). He has been an invited participant at recent international Orthodox consultations on peace ethics in Greece, Romania, and Syria. A graduate of Baylor University and Rice University, he holds a Ph.D. in Christian Theology and Ethics from Duke University and an M.A. in Applied Orthodox Theology from the University of Balamand.

John 5:1-15 (Gospel)

1 After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 2 Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, which is called in Hebrew, Bethesda, having five porches. 3 In these lay a great multitude of sick people, blind, lame, paralyzed, waiting for the moving of the water. 4 For an angel went down at a certain time into the pool and stirred up the water; then whoever stepped in first, after the stirring of the water, was made well of whatever disease he had.

5 Now a certain man was there who had an infirmity thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” 7 The sick man answered Him, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps down before me.” 8 Jesus said to him, “Rise, take up your bed and walk.” 9 And immediately the man was made well, took up his bed, and walked. And that day was the Sabbath.

10 The Jews therefore said to him who was cured, “It is the Sabbath; it is not lawful for you to carry your bed.” 11 He answered them, “He who made me well said to me, ‘Take up your bed and walk.’” 12 Then they asked him, “Who is the Man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” 13 But the one who was healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, a multitude being in that place.

14 Afterward Jesus found him in the temple, and said to him, “See, you have been made well. Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you.” 15 The man departed and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well.

Christ is risen!

We do not like to be dragged down or held back by problems that we cannot solve. Whether it is our own health, a broken relationship with others, or a complex set of circumstances over which we have little control, it is very frustrating to know our weakness before seemingly insurmountable challenges.

That is surely how the invalids, blind, lame, and paralyzed felt as they waited for the chance to be healed by being the first to reach the pool of water troubled by the angel. Due to their illnesses, many must have despaired over ever being healed. The man who had been paralyzed for 38 years was one of those, for there was no one to help him move toward the water. Here we have an image of humanity before the coming of Christ. The Jews had a Temple in which animals were sacrificed, and the pool provided water for washing lambs before they were offered to God. This scene occurs at the Jewish feast of Pentecost, which commemorated Moses receiving the Law, which was given by angels.

Fallen humanity, however, remained spiritually weak and sick. They lacked the strength to fulfill God’s requirements, and certainly could not conquer death, the wages of sin for all those who have fallen short of the glory of God. The sacrificial system of the Temple foreshadowed the great Self-Offering of our Lord on the Cross, but did not heal anyone from the ravages of spiritual corruption or raise anyone from the grave. It was a great blessing for the Jews to have the Law, but surely also a tremendous frustration not to have the strength to obey it fully. Only Christ Himself fulfilled the Law, which is why He can call and empower us to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect. (Matt. 5:48)

In contrast, the paralyzed man represents all who lack the power to move themselves to complete healing, to find the fulfillment of our common human calling to become like God in holiness. Notice that he did not call out to Christ to help him; instead, the Lord reached out to him, asking “Do you want to be healed?” That may seem like a strange question, for presumably anyone waiting by a pool for healing after 38 years of illness would want to be made well. But think for a moment about how we have all learned to adapt to our favorite sins, how we have become comfortable with whatever forms of corruption have become second nature to us over the years. By virtue of coming to Church, we are apparently religious people, but that does not mean that we truly want to be healed. For to be healed means obeying the Lord’s command to this fellow: “Rise, take up your pallet, and walk.” It requires making the effort to rise up in obedience, to be transformed personally in how we live each day, and to grow in holiness.

It would not have sufficed for that man to have remained on his bed and have warm feelings about how Christ had healed him. Just as anyone who lies motionless for a long time will become weak and unable to rise up and walk on his own power, the same will be true of us spiritually if we try to rest content with simply believing ideas about God or having positive emotions about Him. If we are not gaining strength by actually serving Him faithfully, we will become paralyzed and unable to cooperate with our Lord’s gracious healing energies. Any spiritual health that we claim in that state will be a figment of our imagination.

The good news is that the Lord does not simply provide us with a set of rules to follow or services to perform. He makes us participants in Himself by grace. He unites us to Himself, raising us up with Him from slavery to sin and death to the great dignity of those who share in His eternal life. The Savior makes us members of His own Body, the Church. He is the Bridegroom and we are the Bride. He makes us radiant in holiness, like an iron left in the fire of the divine glory. That is how He heals us such that we have the strength to obey His command to get up from our bed of corruption and move forward in a blessed life of holiness.

Though we may not yet have the eyes to see it, this healing and strengthening of our humanity happens to this day through our life in the Church. In our reading from Acts [9:32–42], St. Peter heals a paralyzed man and commands him to get up. He even raises a woman from death. Peter did not do this by his own power or authority, but because the Lord was working through him. He said to the paralyzed man, “Jesus Christ heals you…” Throughout Acts, we read of how the Lord works through His Body, the Church, to enable people to participate personally in the new life of the resurrection that He shares with us by grace.

That is not, however, a life of merely having our names on a church membership roll or of calling ourselves Orthodox Christians. If our faithfulness extends only that far, we will become as weak as a person who remains immobile in bed and refuses to stand up and walk. We must not be like those poor souls waiting by the pool for someone else to move them into the healing water. On His own gracious initiative, Jesus Christ has given each of us the strength to overcome the paralysis of sin through His resurrection. He does not simply give us commands; He gives us Himself. And our life in His Body, the Church, is truly our participation in Him.

We receive His healing of our souls when we humbly repent of our sins in Confession. We are nourished for the life of the Kingdom by His Body and Blood in Holy Communion. When we offer our time, energy, and resources to support the ministries of the Church, we rise up from selfishness to participate in the abundant generosity of the Lord. When we stop thinking of ourselves as isolated individuals and instead as members of a Body with a common life in Christ, we will be able to love and serve one another in ways that will open us to His strength personally and collectively in powerful ways.

In the joy of the resurrection, we must learn to see that embracing our life together in Christ is an essential dimension of obeying His command to “Rise, take up your pallet, and walk.” He calls each of us to turn away from the paralyzing weakness of selfishness and laziness that would make whatever sins we have become comfortable with appear more important than serving Him in His Body, the Church, where the glory and power of the resurrection are fully present.

Think about that for a moment. Pascha is not an isolated event that happened long ago, but an entrance into the new day of the Kingdom of Heaven, which is fully open to us in the worship and common life of this parish. The Savior calls each of us, weakened and held back by the corruptions of sin, to get up and move forward in the blessed life for which He made us in His image and likeness. That is why He died and rose again, to raise us up with Him for a life of holiness, to restore us to the ancient dignity of Paradise.

May this season of Pascha be our entrance as a parish into the joy of the Kingdom. That will happen when we rise up, from whatever corruptions are holding us back, to a life of obedience in serving Him and one another in His Body, the Church. That is the only way to answer the question that He asks each of us today and every day: “Do you want to be healed?”

Christ is risen!

Reprinted with permission by the author: © 2012-2017 Fr. Philip LeMasters · All Rights Reserved.