Our Alumnus, the Very Reverend Steven J. Belonick (M.Div. ’77), of blessed memory, was the rector of Holy Ghost Russian Orthodox Church in Bridgeport, CT. On the Sunday of Cross in 2017, he delivered this homily, reflecting upon the Cross as a symbol of both judgment and mercy.

Third Sunday of Great Lent: The Sunday of the Cross
“Christ’s Outstretched Arms”
By The Very Reverend Steven J. Belonick © 2017

Today, we have reached the midpoint of Great Lent in our journey to Pascha. I pray that you have not used this time in vain but have taken advantage of this opportunity to grow closer to God. At this midpoint the Church once again offers us the Cross of Christ to venerate and to reflect upon its place in our Christian life.

To help us in our reflection, I want to refer you back to a prescribed reading that was given to us this past week from the Book of Isaiah. I hope you took the time to read it (Isaiah 9.9–10.4). This reading describes the chaos that existed in Israel when the Prophet Isaiah lived. Let me describe some of it for you.

Pride and arrogance had filled the hearts of the people. They believed that they were wiser than God and refused to turn to the Him, even though danger was all around. Wickedness burned like a forest fire among them, and yet they remained unrepentant. Moral decay reigned unencumbered, and civil war was an ever-present reality. Enemies from the north were preparing to invade. Brother fought against brother, tribe against tribe. Describing these horrible circumstances that raged in his midst, Isaiah wrote these words: “For all this, God’s anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still” (Isaiah 9.12, 17, 21; 10.4).  Four times within this passage Isaiah uses these same words as a kind of refrain.

This phrase indicates that despite all the destruction around them and God’s call to repentance, the Israelites chose to sink deeper and deeper into sin—even to the point of cannibalism, due to famine! And, so God continued to stretch out His hand. In other words, He continued to permit the cycle of destruction that was devastating their lives.

This haunting refrain, however, not only describes God’s anger at His people but also, at the very same time, His mercy. How so?

If you read the passage carefully, you will find that there is a fascinating sequence to the ever-worsening judgments and disasters permitted by God.[1] First, He throws down idolatrous Israel’s altars and shrines. Second, He cuts Judah and Israel to pieces. Third, He fuels a fire, and, fourth, He gives them over to cannibalism. A modern commentator on this passage, Peter J. Leithart, states: “Israel is being sacrificed: Dismembered, burned, eaten. Yahweh’s response to Israel’s injustice is to sacrifice Israel.”

Leithart goes on to explain that this passage prophesies the death of Jesus. Jesus is the Child of God, the Lamb of God, who is cut, bruised, sacrificed on the wood of the Cross, and then given to us as food. In His crucified body, Jesus takes upon Himself Israel’s sin; He is sacrificed instead of them, and He thus delivers Israel from their sin and punishment. “Yahweh’s justice triumphs over Israel’s injustice,” says Leithart, “when the child is cut, when He is placed on the altar of the world, when He is given over to food, when He becomes sacrificial Israel to deliver sacrificed Israel.”

“For all this God’s anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still.” What a powerful message, for it tells us that God permitted punishment and destruction while at the same time promising overwhelming mercy.

And, what a lesson for us today! God was angry because the Israelites had turned away from Him, and likewise, His anger burns towards us when we sin. We must not deny this reality.

And yet, as He stretches out His hand—permitting us to suffer the consequences of our own sins—He has a merciful plan in mind. His plan is for us to return to our senses, after we find ourselves in squalor, in danger, and in a cycle of self-destruction due to our leaving His embrace, due to our disregarding His commandments.

The Cross that we venerate today, like Isaiah’s prophecy, perfectly illustrates God’s judgement and mercy. (For the judgment and mercy of God are always inextricably intertwined!)

Scripture confirms this. After Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, He knew that His arrest and death were imminent. His hour had come. He became reflective and began to speak about His death openly. He said to his disciples: “Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour? No, for this purpose I have come to this hour” (John 12.27). Then He said: “Now is the judgment of this world, now shall the ruler of this world be cast out; and I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself” (John 12.31–32).

So, the Cross is a judgment on us because it shows to what extent we human beings will go to reject God, to take His care and authority in vain, and to direct our allegiance elsewhere, apart from Him. But the Cross is also a source of mercy. On the Cross God’s Son still “stretches out His hands toward us,” but this time in a different way. Nailed to the tree with arms outstretched, He forgives us, He invites us, and He welcomes us. The hands of our Lord are stretched out now for us to come to Him.

At this midpoint of Lent we begin to feel the effects of fasting, and we begin to feel the temptation to weaken our resolve to complete the course of the fast. But just like a military leader shows the colors of the flag when he sees his troops growing weary, so the Church raises the Cross of our Savior to inspire us.

May the sign of the Cross motivate us to keep going, to finish the race, to be conquerors of our passions, to complete the course of the fast, and to celebrate the Feast of Feasts, our Lord’s Resurrection. As our Lord stretches out His hands to us this day, may we in turn reciprocate by stretching out our hands to grasp His. AMEN.

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[1] Here I credit research from the article: “His Anger Does Not Turn,” by Peter J. Leithart, 10 April 2011, in Credenda Agenda.

On this  40th day of the repose of Matushka Juliana Schmemann (†),  it is our joy to remember her love of Christ and His Church, by sharing a poignant essay written by Shamassey Mary Honoré, wife of current seminarian Deacon Andrew Honoré and granddaughter of both Archpriest Peter E. Gillquist (†) and Archpriest Jon Braun, both of whom knew Matushka Juliana and her husband, Protopresbyter Alexander (†), long-time Dean of St. Vladimir’s Seminary, very well. Shamassey Mary’s essay reminds us how Matushka Juliana’s personal faith in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ continued to inspire and vivify those around her, even as she neared the gates of death and the threshold of heaven.

Matushka Juliana Schmemann, an “Original Brick”: A Remembrance
By Shamassey Mary Honoré

Just another day at St. Vladimir’s

It was the “new normal.” My husband was a brand-new, first-year seminarian at St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary in Autumn 2015. One Saturday night in October, we walked past the Seminary’s bookstore on our way home from Great Vespers. Both of us simultaneously stopped when we noticed—both in depth and texture—a brick sticking out of the wall. A small plaque under it revealed that it was an “original brick from the Orthodox Seminary” that had previously existed in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

We discussed it for a bit, thinking it odd that we had not noticed the little brick before, even though between the two of us we had been to the bookstore over a dozen times in the past six weeks. And we wondered: What must have that original Orthodox Seminary been like? And, what had become of it, since this little brick was here in our wall at St. Vladimir’s?

I would have forgotten all about it, except that a few days later, I met a couple of living “original bricks.” I happened to write about that experience in an email to my mom and grandma…

On October 6, I took [my two young sons] to go visit Matushka Juliana (Schmemann) at her assisted-living facility about a mile from St. Vladimir’s. I was a little nervous, to say the least, as it isn’t every day one introduces oneself and boyish kin to a 91-year-old stranger who, together with her husband, is the stuff of legend in the American Orthodox world. When I got to her room, I happily discovered there her daughter Masha, who informed me that today was, in fact, Matushka’s 92nd birthday!!

Matushka Juliana was sweet and fiery. She loved seeing the boys. After a few minutes of small talk, who should walk in to wish birthday greetings but Matushka Marie Meyendorff! It was kind of surreal, sitting there with the now aged and white-haired matriarchs of not just the Orthodox Church in America (OCA, the jurisdiction), but of THE Orthodox Church in America (not the jurisdiction). What an image, right here in front of me! I was in awe to see it, myself a young mom with my babies, from the very theological institution that each of their husbands had governed, nurtured, loved, and lived decades before. And this commonality they shared was, of course, established on a much firmer foundation: that of being refugees and strangers in a new land, where they came to nurture and share their great love of Christ and His Church. The matriarchs mostly talked together while they held hands and sat chatting in Russian.

It was crazy to think about afterwards, and I came home feeling a bit stunned. Not that there was anything presumptuous about these “tiny giants” of the Orthodox Church, but more to just think about each of them in my shoes 65ish years ago, and wondering where we (the current students/families) will be in 65ish years…I know there will be those among us, even our current classmates, who will be called to “take up the torch” so to speak. Just another day at St. Vladimir’s!

I was honored to have met this very special “original brick” of our Seminary and our Church. It put into perspective for me the urgency and importance of implementing what we learn here at the Seminary. One could say that to be a seminarian, and to become a worker in God’s field, is to aspire to join the firm foundation of “original bricks” that have been laid before, by God’s grace.

Hello and Goodbye

Fast-forward to a chilly wintry day in early December 2016. I went with my grandma, Khouria Marilyn Gillquist—widow of Fr. Peter Gillquist— for a visit with Matushka Juliana. Gram was in town from Bloomington, Indiana, for a brief visit with my little family. She was old friends with Fr. Alexander Schmemann, of blessed memory, and Matushka Juliana.

We weren’t expecting much…we had been told that Matushka was slowing down and mostly slept. We were expecting a short visit. “Ten minutes!” we kept reminding each other. But Matushka was very happy to see us, and after that first ten minutes she remembered and understood exactly who we were. Then proceeded a wonderful hour: she wanted to know everything about everyone, and we were amazed as the minutes flew by and she talked and talked with perfect clarity.

She shared with us that she was in much pain. She was confined to a wheelchair and had really been suffering physically. She said how hard it was to grow old, and that she had asked God many times that she might be granted to die.

“I went up Jacob’s ladder!” she told us. “‘Knock knock knock! Can I come in?’…and St Peter told me ‘No, no, no! [shaking her finger] It is not your turn!’ So, here I am still!”

I began to feel dismayed and truly sorry when she solemnly declared, “I am not human anymore.” Age and deterioration had robbed her of most abilities, and pain and suffering riddled her body. But then, as if to combat our pity, she straightened up as best as she could and with quiet gusto exclaimed, “I love Jesus. Always in my mind…Jesus…Jesus…Jesus!”

She said it with closed eyes, giving Gram and me a moment to share a glance and wipe away our tears. I reached out to touch Matushka’s weary, weathered hand, and she instinctively held my fingers in her grasp for the rest of the conversation.

I could see her truly “waking” now. Our shared humanity and remembrances of old times were the greatest medicine. Talk of Jesus and heaven and Fr. Alexander were a balm to her tired soul. She and my grandmother shared joyful sorrow over the loss of their priest husbands, of how they continually missed them and yet had not truly lost them. I sat there as the neophyte. I couldn’t help but think of the “original brick” outside the bookstore a year earlier, and how here was this living “original brick” before me once again, aged and frail, but ready for the journey to eternity.

Suddenly she turned to me, and began to ask all about “my Deacon.” I had explained earlier on that my husband was a second-year seminarian at St. Vladimir’s, and newly ordained to the diaconate in the Antiochian Orthodox Church.

“How is your Deacon? How does he like St. Vladimir’s?” she wanted to know.

I told her he liked it very well, and that he was working hard and learning so much! Seminary can be difficult, I expressed, but we truly love it and are so grateful to have three years of such excellent training and care there. She declared how much her husband had loved St. Vladimir’s, how it was his life and his legacy. I felt humbled and touched.

Already an hour was spent, and it was time to go. I knew this was goodbye…we would not see Matushka Juliana again, but what a gift this precious hour had been!

I went to give her a hug, and kiss, and to say thank you. Suddenly, she grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me very close to her face—mere inches apart we were. She looked with clear blue eyes right into my very soul and with firm urgency said, “We brought Orthodoxy to America. It is up to you to bring America to Orthodoxy! This is your mission! Tell your Deacon! Tell them at St. Vladimir’s! This is the task of your generation! The most important thing: you must bring America to Orthodoxy.”

“I will. I promise I will tell them what you say,” I finally managed to say, through tears.

She proceeded to give me a blessing, the sign of the cross over me, a sweet kiss, and a strong squeeze of my hands. It was truly amongst the humblest and most holy moments of my life.

Giving thanks

When I learned of Matushka’s death just a few short weeks later, I felt real, overwhelming joy. She had such an incredible life, and now she was suffering no longer, and was with her sweetest “Jesus…Jesus…Jesus!” I can only imagine the reunion with Fr. Alexander. She died on January 29, the eve of their wedding anniversary, which happens to also be the feast day of the Three Holy Hierarchs, the patrons of our chapel here at St. Vladimir’s Seminary.

At our festal liturgy the next morning, I felt joy to know that Matushka was partaking in the heavenly liturgy, while we worshipped at the liturgy for the Three Hierarchs’ feast day. During the Epistle reading, I began to weep. The second verse is well-known and has been a comfort many times to me, and surely to all Christians:

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)
The reading goes on to speak of Christ as the perfect and most holy sacrifice for us, and ends with these words:
Therefore let us go forth to Him, outside the camp, bearing His reproach.
For here we have no continuing city, but we seek the one to come.
Therefore by Him let us continually offer the sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to His name.
But do not forget to do good and to share, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased. (Hebrews 13:13–16)

I stood weeping there, because I was so struck by the truth and beauty of the words Matushka Juliana had spoken to me at the end of our meeting, in light of the Epistle that I was hearing now. And today, on the feast of the Three Holy Hierarchs, patrons of our beloved St. Vladimir’s Seminary Chapel, she was certainly “giving thanks to His name.”

We proceeded to listen to the Holy Gospel, from Matthew 5:14–19:

You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.
Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.
Do not think that I came to destroy the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to destroy but to fulfill.
For assuredly, I say to you, till heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle will by no means pass from the law till all is fulfilled.
Whoever therefore breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does and teaches them, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.

Armed, as it were, with these sacred words, I could not help but think extensively on Matushka’s commission to “bring America to Orthodoxy!”

This is our mission!

Matushka’s funeral was truly glorious. I was standing to the far right side of the church, looking straight out towards her coffin, which was surrounded by many clergy, the Schmemann family, and beautiful flowers. Floating above was a massive and beautifully written icon of the Resurrection. The service was moving and beautiful. Afterwards, I went to give Matushka that last kiss, and felt as though I could gaze upon her forever; so at peace and so beautiful was she. I asked her to forgive me, and I promised her that I would take up my mission of sharing.

I hadn’t thought until then about my email a year ago, when I wrote: “I know there will be those among us, even our current classmates, who will be called to ‘take up the torch’ so to speak.” And suddenly, I realized: I am one of them, one of “us.”

I met an “original brick,” and her memory will live on forever, in a far greater way than the “original brick” in the wall next to the bookstore. No matter our age or position, gifts or struggles, blessings or sufferings, talents or trials, we know this is true: “That Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” True for Orthodoxy in America! True for bringing America to Orthodoxy! This is our mission!

Thank you, Matushka Juliana! I love you! Memory eternal.

© Mary Honoré 2017

Listen to Matushka Juliana speaking about her book, The Joy to Serve.

On Sunday, March 5, 2017, Archpriest Chad Hatfield, President of St. Vladimir’s Seminary, was guest homilist during the Great Vespers service celebrating the Sunday of Orthodoxy, at Holy Ghost Russian Orthodox Church, Bridgeport, Connecticut—whose rector is Archpriest Steven J. Belonick, seminary alumnus (M.Div. ’77). The parish hosted the event, which was sponsored by the New England Clergy Association.

In this intriguing homily, Fr. Chad acts as both sleuth and visionary: he traces the origins of the Sunday of Orthodoxy and its subsequent celebration up to the present day, and then relates both little known and better known efforts at Orthodox Christian unity in the USA. He includes such historical tidbits as the words of St. Tikhon of Moscow in two of his homilies at Orthodoxy of Sunday Great Vespers, and the FOGCPJA (Federated Orthodox Greek Catholic Primary Jurisdictions in America) formed to address the crisis of Orthodox Christian soldiers during WWII not having dog tags to identify their religion properly! In closing, Fr. Chad urges a call to the Orthodox churches in North America to “a corporate repentance and a re-commitment to becoming the Orthodox Christian Church in America—one house, one shared faith, and one common witness?”

Orthodoxy Sunday Vespers – 5 March 2017
Holy Ghost Russian Orthodox Church (OCA), Bridgeport, CT
Archpriest Chad Hatfield, President, SVOTS

Fathers, brothers and sisters in Christ, I want to thank Archpriest Steven Belonick for hosting this Inter-Orthodox Vespers this evening as we mark the first Sunday of Great Lent. This day is often called the “Sunday of the Triumph” of Holy Orthodoxy. We have been keeping this feast and the practice of processing with our icons and crosses since the Empress Theodora ordered Patriarch Methodius—who by all accounts was a godly Patriarch of Constantinople—in AD 843 on the First Sunday of Great Lent, to assemble the faithful for a procession with the icons, crosses, and candles, so that the holy images might be restored to the Church for veneration.

The Empress Theodora did not have the support of her late husband, Emperor Theophilus. In a dream she saw a vision of her husband being tortured for his heterodoxy as an Iconoclast. In the dream she saw herself pleading for her husband, and the voice of an Angel spoke to her, saying: “Great is your faith, o woman!” She was told that by her prayers and tears forgiveness had been granted to Theophilus.  The intercessions of the priests and faithful had been heard.

Patriarch Methodius had previously written the names of all of the heretical emperors, including Theophilus, on a plain piece of paper and had placed it under the Holy Table. After his own encounter with an Angel, who told him that his intercessions had been heard and that Theophilus had been forgiven, he tested his vision by going to retrieve the paper—finding not a single name left on it! This good news was shared with the Empress and her son Michael, and thus was the beginning of this festival day.

So, we now have our history. History is very important to Orthodox Christians. We like to look back. One bit of history that I want to share this evening, is closer to our own day. That is the question: When exactly did we start gathering on the evening of Orthodoxy Sunday, with a focus on “Orthodox Unity”? I am not sure that I have an exact answer. I don’t have an exact date or time. What I do have is some more history.

We know that after the Bolshevik Revolution, 1917–18, the Orthodox Church in North America was unable to maintain the canonical unity that had, more or less, prevailed since the arrival of those first Missionaries on Kodiak Island in Alaska in 1794. Their missionary efforts are the foundation for Orthodoxy in the New World. The Church is founded on the blood of martyrs, and we have that blood in the martyrs Juvenaly and his companion and St. Peter the Aleut. This is all part of our local church history, and it is foundational for American Orthodoxy.

We also have, as part of our American Orthodox patrimony, the vision of St. Tikhon, our own Archbishop, here in America, who would return to Russia and be elected Patriarch of Moscow and All-Russia during the 1917–18 Sobor that paralleled the time of the Revolution. This year marks the 100th anniversary of his election as Patriarch and his Enthronement. Hear the words of this great saint preached on Orthodoxy Sunday in 1903:

Holding to the Orthodox Faith, as to something holy, living it with all their hearts and prizing it above all, Orthodox people ought, moreover, to endeavor to spread it among people of other creeds. Christ the Savior has said that: “neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candle stand, and it gives light to all that are in the house” (Matthew 5.15). The light of Orthodoxy was not lit to shine only on a small number of men. The Orthodox Church is universal; it remembers the words of its Founder: “Go ye into the world and preach the gospel to every creature” (Luke 16.14). “Go ye therefore and teach all nations” (Matthew 28.19). We ought to share our spiritual wealth, our truth, light and joy with others who are deprived of these blessings, but often are seeking them and thirsting for them.

In his “Farewell Sermon,” also preached on Orthodoxy Sunday in his San Francisco Cathedral in 1907, he sounded a similar note, worth hearing once again tonight:

…it is not enough, brethren, only to celebrate “The Triumph of Orthodoxy.” It is necessary for us personally to promote and contribute to this triumph. And for this we must reverently preserve the Orthodox Faith, standing firm in it in spite of the fact that we live in a non-Orthodox country, and not pleading as an excuse for our apostasy that “it is not the old land here but America, a free country, and therefore it is impossible to follow everything that the Church requires.” As if the word of Christ is only suitable for the old land and not for the entire world! As if the Church of Christ is not catholic! As if the Orthodox Faith did not “establish the universe.”

St. Tikhon had a vision for an ethnically diverse yet united Orthodox Church and Evangelical Witness to and in America. It was set in motion with the consecration of St. Raphael of Brooklyn as an Auxiliary Bishop but never fully achieved. Church politics, ethnic divisions and xenophobic fears, and finally, the Bolshevik Revolution, would shatter Orthodoxy in America into camps and the divided house that we now find ourselves in today.

Russian Americans would become two groups; Serbs would become two; Antiochians would divide between New York and Toledo; Albanians, Bulgarians, and Romanians, would divide; and property lawsuits took a toll with Greeks, Russians, Arabs—everybody. So much for making an Evangelical witness in the New World! We looked tribal to outsiders, and we were tribal for those on the inside. We not only fought about languages, but we had calendar divisions and even communities where someone from the “wrong” Old Country Village was not welcome in a particular parish. We even divided cemeteries in some places so that we would not share space even in death!

We did face a crisis when our American boys were being drafted into military service in WW II. Orthodoxy was not recognized as a religion identity option, so there were no dog tags to identify “EO” Eastern Orthodox. We had to choose “C” for “Catholic” or “P” for “Protestant.” Some even got “J” for “Jewish” when they stated that they were “Orthodox.”

F-O-G-C-P-J-A the “Federated Orthodox Greek Catholic Primary Jurisdictions in America” would be formed to address this crisis. I am not, this evening, going to give you the whole history, but if you are interested you can check it out on Ancient Faith Radio or go to OrthodoxHistory.org.

In short, when an Orthodox priest, Fr. John Gelsinger was drafted, his father contacted a certain George E. Phillies, an attorney in Buffalo, New York who happened to be both Orthodox and Episcopalian and a Free Mason. (Our history is fascinating with some most interesting characters!)

With his legal skills he was able to bring together the “Big Four” hierarchs of the time, representing Antiochians, Greeks, Serbs, and Russians. This was an important foundation for what we do here tonight. It was an attempt at Orthodox unity that did bring about “EO” dog tags for our Orthodox Military members, and clarification of identity as a legal Christian church by the government (There is a famous photo of these bishops with Governor Thomas Dewey of New York). But, our unity effort lasted only until November 1944, when the Russians pulled out. Metropolitan Antony Bashir did his best to keep it going, at least on paper, but it failed in the end.

“SCOBA,” or the Standing Conference of Orthodox Bishops in America, would eventually be created in yet one more attempt to create a Pan-Orthodox witness and unity in America. It never became a true functioning local synod, as some thought that it would, but agencies such as the Orthodox Christian Mission Center, International Orthodox Christian Charities, Orthodox Scouting, and Christian Education Groups would find an umbrella through SCOBA. These were all a good things, and we thank God!

The bold gathering in Ligonier, Pennsylvania in 1994 was both an historic moment full of great hope but also a marker in our history where the vision of what could be was lit like a candle for all to see. As the candle was extinguished, for whatever reasons, so went much of the energy to push for Orthodox administrative unity in America.

So, we have continued to gather once a year on the Sunday of Orthodox for Vespers, as we do tonight, and many a sermon as been preached on the necessity for a unified Orthodox voice and presence in America. That is all well and good, but in reality do we not find ourselves, despite the creation of the Assembly of Canonical Orthodox Bishops in America as a replacement for SCOBA, as “Balkanized” as ever?

What is now commonly called the “Council of Crete,” convened this past summer, has not in truth, energized us to move forward and to finally fulfill the vision of St. Tikhon’s American Orthodoxy, where we can successfully make a united Orthodox witness in a culture that is seeking the treasures we possess. We seem pathetic, for the most part, when it comes to sharing the “Triumph of Orthodoxy” with others. People still look into our “tent” looking for the Church of Christ and finding instead a camp of tribes. What they see is hardly a picture of the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.

St. Tikhon, did not see himself as only the “Archbishop of the Orthodox in America.” He saw himself as the “Archbishop of America,” and all of the sheep were counted as members of his flock. Both Orthodox and non-Orthodox were his spiritual children. As we mark the 100th Anniversary of his election as Patriarch of Moscow and we remember his contribution to the life of the Church in North America, can we not recommit ourselves to bringing “Orthodoxy to America” and “America to Orthodoxy”?

In this spiritual tithe of the year when we seek true repentance and amendment of life as individual disciples of the Living Lord, can we not also call the Church in our land to a corporate repentance and recommitment to becoming the Orthodox Christian Church in America—one house, one shared faith, and one common witness?

We can’t afford to make peace with our unhappy divisions. We need to repent of whatever stumbling blocks keep us from being united in Christ in all things.

We have a most powerful intercessor in this cause in the person of St. Tikhon. We have heard his words and hopefully caught a glimpse of his vision for what can, and should, be Orthodoxy in America, today.

Ask yourself, as I ask myself—what do we need to do to set in motion the action steps needed to complete the vision of a faithful witness given by a saint who loved America, served it in the Name of his Lord, and who calls us to unity in Christ this very night? Ask, in your prayers this Great Lent—what needs to be done by you personally and corporately by our various churches, dioceses, archdioceses, and metropolises to achieve an end to the division and brokenness that the events of history have created and we now live with? If nothing else all of us can utter the words: “Holy Tikhon, pray unto God for us!”

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