On his Feast Day

With Video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akc9wO_oAOQ

A Song I wrote about my secondary patron in the Orthodox Church, St John Kochurov, whose blessed memory we commemorate today, 10/31.

FATHER JOHN

A song for St John Kochurov, Heiromartyr of the Bolshevik Yoke

 

How can we help you, Father John, Father John?

Praying for us as you bleed

Shielding God’s people, Father John, Father John

As evil sweeps Russia in word and in deed

 

They’ve captured the royals, Father John, Father John

Stolen their riches and homes

They claim them for the people, Father John, Father John

And then keep those riches all for their own.

 

They show you no mercy, Father John, Father John

They say what you teach is absurd.

And they mean to tame us, Father John, Father John

By using their bullets to silence God’s word

 

They mourn in Chicago, Father John, Father John

In a church that you labored to build

They mourn out in Brooklyn Father John, Father John

Upon hearing how and why you were killed

 

We ask not for vengeance, Father John, Father John

We ask that we only be saved

From Godless oppression, Father John, Father John

A power that’s only described as depraved

 

In seventy years, Father John, Father John

A people enslaved now are free

The yoke of their burden, Father John, Father John

Are thought to be written as old history

 

Still we are praying, Father John, Father John

That you died for us not in vain

In you we find courage, Father John, Father John

As evil sweeps over this land once again

 

How can we help you, Father John, Father John?

Praying for us as you bleed

Shielding God’s people, Father John, Father John

As evil rains on us in word and in deed

Stumbling into a desert.

I have been finding it very difficult to pray as of late.  There are many things I could complain about in life right now, and while they are true, that is not the purpose of either this blog nor the life God gives us.  To say, however, that it hasn't affected me negatively in my soul, however, would be denial of a truth I must face and correct.
At this moment, my daily prayers do not fill me with joy; instead, they seem like an exercise in memorization or reading skills.  I certainly MEAN what those prayers say, but I am unable to FEEL their power.  I read Scripture, but it also feels more intellectual right now.
I have found myself just sitting in a church lately.  Not necessarily praying anything special other than a thank you, but just sitting there in silence, surrounded by the icons of our Savior, the Theotokos, and the saints.  Certainly those who who see me in the church must think I am deep in prayer, but I am actually only trying to listen.
Is my problem a lack of true repentance at this time?  Perhaps it is.  I certainly have been angry at a few things, and others have justified my anger for me with their openness to hoist blame on those who have made me angry.  Sometimes, I haven't even needed to complain myself; others have done it for me.  I keep hearing people saying that they wouldn't put up with what I have had to do lately, and that I shouldn't, either.  While I disagree with them about the not putting up with things idea (for we all deal with things we don't want to), these well meaning people seem to be coming to my defense without asking.  For this, I am forever grateful and deeply blessed.  However, there is no justification for some of my anger and the losing of the temper, regardless of any true victimizing of me, so the desire for repentance, I think, is there.  The tears, however, are not.
My faith is not shaken.  I know God is there, that Jesus is my Lord and Savior, and the saints are praying for me, as are my friends.  I also know that several of the saints and church founders also have had such periods of dryness in their lives, and many of them said that such periods represent not a loss of faith, but more a respite before a spiritual growth, and I will remain in dryness until God deems me ready to accept the next growth of my spirit.  I trust they are correct, but my strength is wearing very thin at the moment.  Patience may be a virtue, but it is a virtue I need to acquire.
I am aware that no one knows when this will end but God.  I am aware that only God knows why I am at this point in my spiritual life right now.  I can honestly say that along this path, I never realized I would actually stumble into a desert, but here I am in a desert as dry as any other.  As a joke towards some people, I tell them I can't read minds because I can't read a blank page.   This is all telling me that God is a much better reader than I am, also, for I know He is able to read my blank soul at this moment.  I only hope it isn't as damaged with evil as I fear it may be.
I ask for any prayers right now, and please know I will mention all of you in mine.  God's will be done, and I do submit to it as humbly as I know how.  God Bless all of you.

What I Do Not Deserve

When someone smiles at me, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me their smile.
When someone compliments me, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me compliments.
When someone praises me, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me praise.
When someone thanks me for serving them, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me thanks for being their servant.
When someone shares their lunch with me, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me food.
When someone prays for me, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me their prayers.
When someone shelters me from harm, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me either shelter or safety.
When someone helps me complete a task, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me their assistance.
When someone defends me from persecution, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me defense.
When someone persecutes me, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me their attention for any purpose.
When someone nurses me to health, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for I am not owed a nurse or good health.
When someone cries for me, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me their tears.
When someone loves me, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me love.
When someone gives me a gift, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for no one owes me gifts.
When I live to see another day, it is a kindness I do not deserve, for I am not owed life.
Yet God still keeps being kind to me, and I certainly do not deserve His kindness.

Shepherds

It has been almost two months since my last entry into this blog.  Many things have changed both in my church life and in my secular life.  For one, I have a new job; a job which I love doing, but I am realizing that perhaps it is not the best of environments for me to work in.  Another thing that is changing is that the goings on in my parish (of which specifics will not be discussed here to protect many people, myself included) may not be the best environment either.
Where work is concerned, there are several factors involved.  First of all, many people just look at the job as.....a job.  The job either doesn't pay enough for them to care about doing their job the best they can, or perhaps worse, it is their best, which to me is a sad commentary on society.  With one exception, the ones who do care the most seem to be of another faith.  Now, the differing faith doesn't bother me in the sense of none of them are trying to convert me to it, but to me, it does beg the question of what ethics are parents who raise their children even nominally Christian passing on to their children.  If we don't do our best at work, we never will do our best at anything, and I am sadly concluding that such attitudes spill over into our spiritual lives.  Perhaps, though, this problem is with me, as I take what my parents taught me seriously when they taught me that not having the best job in the world is no excuse to be the best at it, and anything less than your best effort is failure.  As the popular saying goes, failure is not an option.
Now, the goings on in our parish highlight some of these attitudes also.  The parish has become fractious, argumentative, and in some instances, incomprehensible.  It is not the faith itself that is in jeopardy.  Rather, I would say it is the value of the faith that we pass on to the next generation that is.
I know that there are several Christ-loving, God fearing parishioners who want nothing but to be closer to God through our faith.  I know that there are wolves in sheep's clothing stalking those sheep.  I also am very aware that we lack the physical presence of a full time shepherd to protect the lambs (by that, I mean we don't have an appointed rector).  So, some sheep get devoured; others flee; others hide in plain sight.  The problem with feeding a hungry wolf is they will need to eat again.
So, here I am, stumbling along my path, facing the biggest test I have ever faced of applying my faith into my life.  I personally am not one who would enjoy hunting wolves.  Protecting a flock from them is one thing, but the ammunition necessary is not always available.  Of course, Jesus is our best weapon against those wolves, and He is always available, and He promised He will always be with us.  I believe it to be true.  However, wolves can be scary creatures.  They run in packs, hunt in packs, and tire you out after a long attack.  Wolves can be vicious; lambs gentle.  That's why lambs need shepherds.  I am learning that I not only do not always make a good employee no matter how well I do my job and how great an effort I put into it, but I make a lousy shepherd.  I am unable to protect the sheep from the wolves.
If I come across as feeling helpless right now, it is because I need help from someone who is a worthy shepherd.  I am not hungry enough to be a wolf, nor gentle enough to be a lamb.  I am merely a broken man in need of the protection of Jesus.

Who Are We Fighting?

I haven't been making as many entries as I would like as of late.  We have had many problems at our parish, and I have no doubt that they will not be resolved in short measure.  We have a parish at the moment that is angry, scared, hurt, suspicious, and ready for battle.  The question I have to ask myself is "Who are we fighting"?
Are we fighting an organization that is trying to take from us that which we think is ours?  Are we fighting a person who makes trouble for one that effects us all?  Are we fighting ourselves?  Are we fighting society as whole?  Are we fighting evil?  Are we fighting God?
I think everyone of these are valid questions.  Those closest to me know what troubles our parish is suffering through, and yes, I choose the word suffering specifically, for there is not a one of us who is free from suffering over this, so I will not reveal all of the details of our parish here.  What I will do, however, is attempt to make sense of it all for myself, and if I help anyone else, then I got lucky.
What makes no sense is why this all started.  I have yet to speak to anyone in my parish who thinks that the spark that ignited this fire is founded in truth.  What makes sense is that if it is, to our amazement, that we have to ask for forgiveness from many who have tried to help us through this.
What makes no sense is what we are to do.  What makes sense is that we have to trust this is God's will for all of us, including the most effected and the one punished most.
What makes no sense is the answers we have been given.  What makes sense is that it has to be dealt with for what it is.
What makes no sense is why God wills us to go through this.  What makes sense is that we will find out.
Oh, Heavenly Father, please protect our parish.  Please keep us together and let your will be done through us, and show us they way forward to best serve you.
Oh Lord Jesus Christ, through the prayers of your most pure mother, ever virgin and Most Blessed Theotokos, and all the Saints, have mercy on us.  You are the light of the world; please shine on us to remove us from this darkness.
Oh Heavenly Father, we submit to your will.  Amen.

An Easter Story

There was a young man in Soviet era Leningrad (St Petersburg) who attended church every Sunday.  He knew that he was being watched by the KGB; the priest at the church was always under surveillance to prevent him from teaching anyone else about Christ and the Orthodox Faith.  The priest was constantly harrased by the KGB, with such tactics as phone calls and confrontations, warning him that teaching and training a priest was a crime.  Such was the bravery of this young man and his priest that it didn't stop them.
The young man attended all of the services faithfully; he sang in the choir every week.  It seemed, however, that the only people attending the services regularly were the old women of the area, which the KGB did not deem as threatening to the state as a young man of spiritual conviction.  At times, this would depress him; other times, he felt blessed because of it, knowing the persecution the faith was undergoing.
There was one service every year, however, that the otherwise empty church would be overflowing; Pascha, which is known as Easter in the West.  Then, it seemed that either the KGB gave permission to attend or that people just didn't worry about it.  No matter, for in a story reminiscent of the birth of our Savior, there was literally no room.
This service would attract all sorts of people from around the area; not only did the faithful old ladies attend, but so did the mobsters, the drug dealers and addicts, the prostitutes, the gamblers, the thieves, and in general, those who most people would look at in a manner that was suspicious at best, and overly judgmental by nature.
These people would come in and not necessarily disrupt the sacred service, but they certainly would be loud and perhaps irreverent.  Most certainly the majority were drunk as the entered the church, and they brought the boisterousness of the party into church with them.
This made the young man a bit envious.  While he regretted not his decision to be faithful, he did not understand how such people could only come to service once a year, and even then make it into something he did not think it should be: a continuation of a party on the street.  He wasn't as angry at them as he was hurt.  How could they disrespect that which he was working so hard to keep available to them, even at the risk of imprisonment?  It seemed that they were mocking not only him, but God also.
He decided to confess.  He knew his feelings were hurting only him; those who reveled in the manner they did were not suffering from his pain whatsoever.  As he told his priest about his feelings for all he was doing, all they both were risking, and how he felt their bravery was being mocked every Pascha, his priest gave him a loving lesson that he carries to this day.
His priest reminded him that those who go to church every week are already seeking Christ, and Christ is always with them for it.  Sure, they will sin and fail, but it is much easier for those who walk so closely in the faith to be lifted by Christ and put back into the way of good.  It is those very people; the thieves, prostitutes, mobsters, drug dealers and addicts, and gamblers and others that Christ came into the world to save.  It's not that those who walk in the faith don't need Christ as much; those who do not simply need Him more sometimes.  Christ will always be ready for those who need Him most, including those who may walk away, and for those who live the faith, Christ will be there also, but He also knows we are there for Him.  We who walk in the faith have already seen; we have already experienced His mercy, and do so every week.  We commemorate the Crucifixion and Resurrection every Sunday.   We remember, and need such reminders less.  We remember, and are blessed for it every Liturgy.  It is those very people who walk away from Him that Christ died for.  It is our job to remember that always and to remind others of that when necessary.  It is those very people who only experience it the one time a year who need the joy of the Resurrection more on that day than the faithful.  Sometimes, that one day is all they joy they have.
This young man understood.  He went to seminary and studied and prayed.  He became a priest, despite the best efforts of the KGB to prevent it.  He is a most beloved priest, for I personally see the love that his parish has for him every week.  They defend him with a passion reserved for those they love most.  They come to his aid as much as he comes to theirs.
If only we in the West knew what he went through, perhaps we wouldn't take our worship so lightly.
Christ Is Risen!

Missionaries to Alaska, Tradition and Ritual, and Dale Murphy

Ok, my first guess is that the last name one would expect to see on a blog about Orthodox Christianity is Dale Murphy, a retired baseball player who is not Orthodox.  In fact, the last place you would expect to hear about him is in an Orthodox Christian service.  However, we must also remember that it has been said (though I admittedly am taking this WAY out of context) that "the last shall be first", so, here is the name Dale Murphy appearing on a blog about Orthodox Christianity for all to see.
A little background is quite necessary.  Dale Murphy was indeed mentioned in the homily given at an Orthodox Vespers service I attended back in 2011 (January if I recall) by the priest serving that night.  Father (and this particular priest is a baseball fanatic!) talked about how, when he watched his own brother coming up to the plate, it reminded him of watching Mr Murphy come to bat, and how he always did the same ritual; the tapping of his spikes with the bat, the tapping of the plate with the bat, the sleeve tugs, and more I can't remember.  He talked about his brother doing what is hero did.  He then tied it all in to how ritual is important in the faith as it reminds us that we are all connected by the same rituals to those Orthodox Christians who came and went before us 1000-1500-1700 years ago.  To lose the ritual and tradition is to lose sight of what makes us Orthodox, not only mechanically and outwardly, but spiritually and other worldly.  It means we would lose our theosis.
I was reminded of this homily this past week, Holy week, the week between the Entry into Jerusalem and Pascha, as I was reading a book called "Alaskan Missionary Spirituality".  In one of the earliest chapters, a comparison is made between the missions of Father (now Saint) Herman and New Valaam spreading the Gospel to the Aleuts and the Protestant method of spreading Protestantism to the Natives in the "Lower 48".  Where the Protestants spread the Gospel through fear of hell and force of cultural extermination, through the replacement of Native American Spirituality with Christianity, Father Herman and his aides accepted that the natives of Alaska already had a sense of God as creator, but were unaware how their traditions were fulfilled in Jesus.  Where the natives of the lower 48 were turned upside down in their beliefs, Father Herman showed how their beliefs were not in opposition to Christianity, just incomplete without Christ.  Where the natives of the lower 48 were told their beliefs were in contradiction with the Gospel and must be abandoned, Father Herman taught that their beliefs were now summed up in the history of Jesus.    Father Herman showed that their ceremonial rituals were an understanding of God, and how Orthodox rituals were the understanding not only of Jesus but of the early Christians.  What Father Herman did was not only miraculous, it was long lasting.  Alaska is quite entrenched in the Orthodox Faith even to this day among the natives, though there has been erosion since around 1867.  We see the fruit of the lower 48 with every relic of the Natives past.
Of course, I have over simplified what I read in the book, in part because I am still absorbing its lessons and in part that I would rather encourage you to read this book yourself instead of me giving you a Cliff Notes version, but also because of how both that homily and this book tie into this holiest week of our liturgical year.  We are going through our Bridegroom Matins and other services not because they are meant to please God (though we pray they do) but to REMIND us of Him and to educate us; just as the Native Alaskans used their rituals to educate their children of their spirituality before Father Herman.   We go through these services to remind us of Our Savior and His mission, not only when He walked this Earth, but as it is now that He has sacrificed himself and sits at the right hand of the Father.  We go through these things because it reminds us of who we are in Christ's mission, and what our part in it is to be.  When the Hymn is finally sung "Christ is Risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life", we are reminded that this mission continues and must continue.
Our Orthodox ancestors passed down their rituals, and the Alaskan Natives passed down theirs, and Dale Murphy inspired someone to copy his rituals to become a better hitter in baseball.  Three different types of rituals from three different sources all for one same purpose: to keep us centered on the task at hand.
Christ Is Risen!!!