the most wonderful time of the year

No, this isn't about yet another observance of Christmas according to some obscure, ancient calendar. It's about the 17 glorious weeks (or 19, if I get really grabby) when all the Orthodox churches of the world (except Finland ) are mostly on the same calendar. It's about the Serbian and Russian bloggers talking about the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee together with the Greek and Antiochian. It's about wishing each other a blessed fast and a blessed feast, without the usual caveat that some are two weeks early and some are two weeks late. It's about celebrating the compromise that at least preserved the Traditional Paschalion in the so-called New Calendar (since when did Orthodox want anything new?), even if we still feel a twinge over the separation that exists in the fixed feasts.

Ironically, much of the reason that we even have two calendars to think about (and I do recognize that this is a rather petty sentiment on which to start the season, but I can't deny that I enjoy it nonetheless) stems from the more fundamental, the more--dare I say it--crucial point, that everything in this third of the year revolves around Pascha. Some have asked why we can't just date Pascha by astronomical observation and be done with all these artificial systems. The practical answer (leaving aside the example that even Muslims, who use direct observation, generally end up observing Ramadan on different schedules separated by a day) is another question--how do you observe the first moon of spring ten weeks ahead of time? The most important point is a center, with Great Lent looking forward and Pentecost looking back. It makes calendars more complicated, but on the issues of life and death, it is how everything falls into place.

And that's what really makes this "the most wonderful time of the year." Would that our lives were always a sober preparation of Great Lent for the coming of God to save our souls. Would that they were always a joyful anticipation of the fulfillment of the resurrection promises. For these all-too-brief weeks we pull back the veil and glimpse how the ever-rippling glory of the cross touches our lives, past and future. If we don't come away unchanged, our eyes adjust to see that glory a bit longer in each direction.

This week we remember the Publican and the Pharisee, the latter of whom was scrupulous in his obedience but forgot only one thing--that we never really measure up by what we ourselves can do. What the Publican had, and what he lacked, was a humble heart of repentance. And to remind us that the best of intentions and good works don't make us impressive in God's sight, we live this week without fasting--perhaps the only week all year that's fast-free without a specific celebration. For this rule-boy, it still doesn't feel quite right.

Reason #78 Why I'm not Patriarch of Moscow

At that time, namely in the year 988, under the rule of prince Vladimir, this newly-founded Church of Russia was placed under the canonical jurisdiction of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, in application of the 28th canon of the Fourth Ecumenical Council.

--Abp. IRENAIOS of Crete, Head of the Delegation of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, from his address given at the enthronement of Pat. KIRILL of Moscow

As a newbie to Orthodoxy, I may be way off base here, but this seems like a gratuitous citation of the canon, and a rather insulting one to be made at the enthronement of the new Patriarch. "Congratulations . . . look forward to working with you . . . by the way, I'm right and you're wrong."

Now, for those who might not know, relations between the Ecumenical Patriarch--that's the bishop of Constantinople--and the Patriarch of Moscow have been strained in recent years, to say the least. It's got to the point that their delegations literally cannot be in the same room with each other at what are supposed to be joint theological dialogs between the Orthodox Churches and the Roman Catholic Church. I'm not going to try to explain all of the ins and outs of the dispute. I probably don't understand it well enough myself, and I suspect it would bore most readers.

But a major point of contention in their relationship is precisely the "application of the 28th canon of the Fourth Ecumenical Council." Yes, that Fourth Ecumenical Council--the one that articulated and defended the doctrine of two natures of Christ. The Ecumencial Councils were called primarily to address major Christological issues, but while they were at it, they also dealt with more practical concerns of Church life in their time. Canon 28, if I may attempt a rough summary, re-affirmed the Ecumenical (imperial) status and prerogatives of the Patriarch of Constantinople. Included in his responsibilities was the ordination of bishops in certain areas listed in the canon. The controversial part deals with "bishops of the aforementioned dioceses who are among the barbarians." Recent Ecumenical Patriarchs have contended that this means their jurisdiction automatically extends to any "barbaric" area where an independent Orthodox Church is not already established. Moscow Patriarchs (and others) have preferred a more limited reading of the canon--that it applied to the specific territories mentioned and the specific political circumstances of the Empire.

The practical outcome of these competing interpretations is that Constantinople claims jurisdiction in a particular area because of the canon, while Moscow claims jurisdiction in the same area because of history and common sense. Constantinople fell to the Ottoman Empire in the 15th c., around the same time that Moscow was coming into its own as capital of the Russian Empire. Over the next four centuries or so, Orthodox existence was largely defined by these two Empires. Russia became the default protector of Orthodoxy in many parts of the world, and missionary activity of the Russian Church pushed eastward, all the way into North America. Around the beginning of the 20th c., things changed dramatically, when both Empires collapsed. Waves of emigration from various parts of the Orthodox world brought different ethnic groups into closer contact, far removed geographically from their home churches. Waves of nationalism also swept through the states newly freed from imperial rule, with often controversial claims of ecclesiastical independence. As it suffered under Communism, the Russian Church could no longer oversee much of what it had in the past. At the same time, as Orthodox fled the historic territory of the Ecumenical Patriarch, and the new, secular government of Turkey took an even more hostile stance than that of the Ottoman Empire, the Patriarch looked to the Greek Diaspora in the West for strength.

Today, Orthodoxy in the West is a patchwork of ethnic jurisdictions. Vestiges of the multinational administrations set up by Imperial Russia no longer have a real claim on territorial unity. Constantinople has had little success convincing anyone of its canonical claims, but it retains control of the populous Greek churches and thus champions the status quo of divided, ethnic structures. Meanwhile, in the post-Communist bloc, fragmenting states and overblown nationalism make fertile ground for schism. Those who fear the West cling to their associations with Moscow, including church jurisdiction; those who fear Russia are quick to set up their own independent churches, either by simply striking out on their own (without recognition from any other Orthodox church) or by appealing to Constantinople.

One bright spot in all of this came a few months back at the anniversary celebration of Orthodoxy in Kiev. There, competing churches abound, but so far the Ecumenical Patriarch has refused to endorse any of them. Instead, he and the Patriarch of Moscow concelebrated, and disaster was averted.

I digress, but hopefully it's of some use to show what a slap this citation of canon 28 could be. I would guess that Pat. KIRILL expected no less and let it go by. He has decades of experience working with other churches, so I can't imagine there's much that would surprise him. The Western press, when it has paid any attention at all to the election and enthronement of the new Patriarch, has mostly been interested in what it means for relations between Russian Orthodoxy and the Roman Catholic Church. Personally, I'm much more interested in what it means for relationships within Orthodoxy--specifically, for that between Moscow and Constantinople. It's a very complicated situation, and I don't profess to understand it fully or to have any substantive answers. But it's a sad testimony to the ways that human fear and pride upset the unity of Christ, and I pray every day that resolution will come quickly.

more MTA woes

This one's not too much of an issue for us, though I'm guessing Julie will find it more objectionable than I do. In the continuing efforts to balance its budget, the Maryland Transportation Authority is creating a disincentive to use E-ZPass. Now, if you don't know about E-ZPass, it's a device that you attach to your windshield, so that instead of stopping to pay tolls, you just slow down (sometimes--but they actually have some high-speed E-ZPass lanes now) so a scanner can catch your pass and give a green light. It charges the toll against the pass, and you get a monthly charge on your credit card whenever there's anything to pay off. Here in the Mid-North Atlantic states, you can use E-ZPass across state borders. We don't have any regular trips that involve tolls, but for some destinations on the other side of Baltimore, it can be used to pay for tunnels, or to cross the Annapolis Bay Bridge, or we can use it on the PA Turnpike, the NYS Thruway, etc., when we travel. We might easily go a year without using it, but it's a great convenience when needed.

Well, MTA just voted to add a $1.50/mo charge for E-ZPass, starting in July. Now, I'm no economist, but I have to wonder how much they really thought this through. It will generate new revenue, because undoubtedly there will be a lot of drivers who use the thing regularly and consider it worth $1.50/mo to continue using it. But also undoubtedly there will be many users who choose to turn in their E-ZPass rather than pay the extra charge. That doesn't necessarily mean they'll stop paying tolls--they'll just add to the lines at the toll booths. If the state responds by increasing the number or hours of toll booth operators, the extra cost will start to offset the revenue generated. If the state just lets the lines get longer, people will find alternate routes or drive less, either of which means less money collected in tolls. I don't know how much of this will have to happen to cancel out the new revenues, but I hope someone does.

Personally, I can't complain much about any measure that reduces the amount people drive (though I can complain that from everything I've seen, MTA is also making it harder to take mass transit). It will be an inconvenience on those occasions when we would have used it (and probably a bigger inconvenience than I'm thinking, because it's not just us getting back in line--it's a lot of other people getting back in line ahead of us), but since we're only talking about a few select trips, not a huge problem. I just have to wonder about the wisdom in the move.

One final thought: Is there any reason you can't sign up for E-ZPass in another state? What do other states charge in the way of a monthly fee? Something to consider. Something for MTA officials to consider.

Kathisma 20

Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem; praise thy God, O Sion. For He hath strengthened the bars of thy gates, He hath blessed thy sons within thee. He bringeth peace upon thy borders, and with the fatness of the wheat He filleth thee. He sendeth His saying unto the earth; right swiftly runneth His word. He giveth His snow like wool; the mist He sprinkleth like ashes. He hurleth His ice like morsels. Who shall stand before His cold? He shall send forth His word and melt them; His wind shall blow and the waters shall flow. He declareth His word unto Jacob, His statutes and judgements to Israel. He hath not dealt so with every nation, nor hath He shown His judgements unto them.

Ps 147 is included in this morning's readings. Perhaps it grabbed my attention because of our recent weather, or perhaps just because I have an affinity for snow (though not so much for ice). Anyway, I thought I'd share some of St. John Chrysostom's commentary:

Hence after saying, Who sends out his word to the earth, he added, his word runs swiftly. Now, he said this to show that he cares not only for our country but for the whole world. Word here means command, the working of his providence. . . .

Now, what does he command? The things that bear on our life - I mean, what concerns the management of the airs, the seasons and climatic changes. Hence he also added the words, Giving snow like wool . . . . Here in my view he presents the invincible and unlimited character of God's power in producing beings from what did not exist, and changing those already made and remodeling them to suit his wishes. . . .

Many other such marvels can be seen in nature. So when it happens each year and comes before your gaze, do not regard the marvel as of little significance: think how wonderful it is, at one time snow coming into view, at another time water, such changes happening in a short space of time. You see, in case any stupid person should think they happen by the natural operation of the elements, and simply regard these things responsible for them instead of knowing who is the one giving the commands, he directs his attention to God's ordinance about all these things, saying, He will send out his word, and they will melt, that is, his ordinance. It was not the nature of the winds taking the initiative and causing this, you see, but the God who made the winds. . . . I mean, just as with unbearable ice and sleet it is easy for him to restore order and settle everything, so too it is very simple for him to bring back to peace and to their own country those held in captivity and embroiled in wars, and guide them to their former prosperity.

He not only suggests this, however, but hints obscurely at something else. What in fact is that? That just as even these things that bring distress often prove useful and beneficial, so too the things that turned out for them disastrously also brought them great benefit. Lest they harm them further, he transformed them in turn to something more tranquil. . . .

Snow and ice, then, are used in this psalm as illustrative of unfriendly weather, which is sent by divine order as much as any other. The lesson is that God sends into our lives both the good and the bad, but just as easily he can turn the bad into good. Snow and ice do not remain forever but melt into flowing water that we need for life.

This is a fairly straightforward lesson taken from the literal sense of the psalm. St. John continues, however:

What has been said, then, is adequate for the literal sense. If, however, you have the desire to take the psalm also in an anagogical sense, we should not decline to travel that path as well, without doing violence to the historical meaning - perish the thought - but along with it adding this as well for the benefit of the scholars to the extent appropriate. . . .

Who sends out his word to the earth, his word runs swiftly: what word? I ask. The one through the apostles, the one that runs everywhere lighter than a feather. Hence David also suggests this in another place, saying, "The Lord will give a word to those spreading good news with great power." But if any stupid people have doubts, let them find proof in what happens with the elements, and learn how the snow falls suddenly, and in a moment of time conceals the whole earth, not covering its face over time but enveloping it all at once. So since he was inspired and it was likely he said this in an anagogical sense to forecast and hint at the future, it was logical he should make his point by reference to the elements. Now, what he means is something like this: All the earth is soon to be instructed by God, with great speed and in a moment of time. Then, lest anyone have doubts as to whether Jews, a single nation enjoying so much care over such a long period of time, proved upright, how it is possible for those inhabiting the world to be reformed in a short time, he takes the examples from the elements for reinforcement of his words - snow, mist, ice - which most of all happen in one moment of time. So have no doubts as to whether their attitude also is likely to be transformed. But are there many who resist? Even these will yield and give way, however: if no one can bear the onset of a little period of extreme cold weather, and instead everyone gives way to it, much more will all adverse influences yield to his word and command.

Prophetically, then, the psalm uses snow to illustrate how God's Word will rapidly spread throughout the world and transform human hearts. As snow comes suddenly and irresistibly and changes people's lives whether they choose it or not, so is God's Word in the wake of Christ's coming. Of course, when snow comes, people can choose to act as if nothing has changed, but to their own peril.

wimp

Humility is good. Despite my typical bragging about "our weather is worse than your weather" and my intention of riding all through the winter, I'm staying home today. The roads really aren't that bad. It should be a clear day, and the high should be enough to see most of the snow and ice melt away. If I were driving, I probably wouldn't think twice about going in.

But, when I took a walk around the area this morning, there was definitely black ice, especially at the edges of the road. There probably wouldn't be much on Rt. 1, and morning traffic is usually light enough that I could stay well out toward the middle of the lane. But I have no idea what it would be like after I got off Rt. 1, and it only takes one slick patch to cause an accident. I've never ridden on ice, and I'd prefer that my first time not be skating downhill in almost total darkness, carrying a laptop that doesn't belong to me. Julie already expressed that she doesn't want me to try it, especially since my boss gave me the option of working from home.

In Directions on the Spiritual Life, Abba Dorotheus writes:

If we wish to be completely transformed and freed from attachments, let us learn to cut off our own desires, even in the least important things. For nothing brings more profit to men than renouncing their own will, since in truth a man gains a greater benefit from this than from any other virtue. Indeed, the cutting off of one's own will and desires can be practiced at every moment. Suppose a man is walking; his thought says to him, "Look at this and at that," but he cuts off his desire and says nothing. He meets some people talking; his thought says to him: "have a few words with them," but he cuts off his desire and says nothing. He comes to the kitchen; his thought says: "let us go and see what the cook is preparing," but he cuts off his desire and does not go, and so on and so on. But cutting off his desires in this way he acquires a habit of cutting them off and, beginning with small things, ends by easily and calmly cutting them off in big things as well. Thus, finally he begins to have no will of his own at all and remains unperturbed, whatever may happen.

In this case, it's not entirely clear what my "own desire" is. Sure, all things being equal, I'd rather work from home than commute two hours each way by bike, train, and subway. But in this case it seems that my pride would prefer the opportunity to give the nonchalant answer--yeah, of course I rode my bike in this morning; it was no problem--and know (or assume) that people wonder how he does it.

eis polla eti despota!

Met. Kirill has been elected as the new Patriarch of Moscow!

The Elkridge Blessing (Part 1)

Sometimes mountainbikers happen across their strange woodland rituals--it might be about a dozen people out in the snow, gathered on the bank of a partially frozen creek, speaking in strange tongues and throwing water around . . .

Honestly, I would love to know what the three cyclists who swerved around our little gathering thought we were up to. If only they'd known that half-way around the world hundreds or thousands of groups were doing the very same thing, except that their festivities probably involved a bit more "walrusing"--what the Russians apparently call a polar bear swim.

As I've mentioned before, one of the things I like about living in Elkridge is that we're about a five-minute bike ride from an Orthodox cemetery. More to the point, it's the cemetery that belongs to Holy Trinity Russian Orthodox Church in Baltimore, which has a good relationship with Holy Cross. Generally if a priest is needed in an emergency when Fr. Gregory is away, Fr. John from Holy Trinity is on call. We also use some of the cemetery space and the picnic facilities.

Picnic facilities? This is really starting to sound weird. Well, the fact is, Orthodox take very seriously the "communion of saints." Death is a real separation, but much less so in light of Christ's "trampling down death by death." We pray for our departed friends and family, and we pray to (somewhat less scandalously, with) the departed saints. It is said that the early Christians often had to worship underground, in the same caves where they buried their dead. So when the Book of Revelation talks about the martyrs under the altar, this would have reflected the usual practice. We are never very far from our dead even now, with regular commemorations and memorials of departed loved ones, various Soul Saturdays throughout the year, and one particularly beautiful tradition in the Russian Church. On Thomas Sunday (a week after Easter), they gather in the cemetery and proclaim the resurrection to the dead who lie there.

So it's not so unusual for Orthodox to combine picnic facilities with cemeteries. They also ideally maintain a chapel in proximity, if the cemetery is not already close to the church, so services like that on Thomas Sunday have somewhere to meet. Someone told me today that Ss. Peter and Paul Chapel, which is on the grounds of this particular cemetery, used to be pretty run-down and used basically once a year. Things have changed quite a bit since then. At one point, when Holy Trinity had two priests, they had a full-fledged Russian language mission, with regular vigils and liturgies. Now, they do the first vigil of the month at the main church downtown, but the other weekly vigils are held in the chapel. There are no regular liturgies there, however. So I can't rely on it as an actual neighborhood parish, but it is nice to participate when I have occasion to do so.

I visited a month or two ago for Saturday vigil (part of it anyway--I had Ian with me, and vigil is quite long). I was back again today for Theophany. That's the Orthodox name for what the West calls Epiphany--the end of the traditional 12 days of Christmas. Now, you fact-checkers are probably already calculating--if it's 12 days after Christmas, we're 13 days too late! Not so, if Christmas was in fact 12 days ago :-) Russian Orthodox still follow the Julian calendar, which was the traditional calendar of the Church down to the Great Schism and continued in both East and West until around the time of the Reformation Pope Gregory endorsed an adjustment to the calendar. Scholars had determined that adding a leap day every four years was gradually pushing the Julian calendar behind the actual solar year. They came up with the idea to skip the leap day every century year but the fourth, and to go back and re-calibrate the calendar according to the new system. This meant deleting some days and then moving forward with the new approach. Protestant nations were slow to adopt the new papal calendar; in the British Empire, it didn't take until a few decades before the American Revolution. Orthodox nations didn't adopt the Gregorian calendar until the 20th c., and even then there was difference of opinion over its use for Church events. To this day, the Russian Church retains the Julian calendar and therefore observes Christmas and Theophany 13 days later than the West (for the next century anyway).

I wanted to attend Theophany in particular for a few reasons. One is that I missed the Theophany service at Holy Cross due to a schedule conflict with Julie. (If there's any advantage to having Orthodox churches on two different calendars, it's that you get two chances to attend the major feast services.) Another is that I knew they'd have Theophany at the chapel, so it would be close by. Most importantly, they do an outdoor water blessing at Theophany, which Holy Cross doesn't do (it would be considerably more difficult logistically), and they bless a waterway that's in very close proximity to where I live.

Now, I need to explain something about the water blessing. Each year at Theophany, every Orthodox church performs the Great Blessing of Waters, at least inside the church building, but often outside as well. Western Epiphany has come to revolve primarily around the Three Wise Men, but in the East, Theophany is about the baptism of Jesus. This is the point of the name, which means "revelation of God." While Jesus's birth was heralded by angels and witnessed by Jewish shepherds and Gentile wise men, it was a more or less secret affair. It was not a public announcement for everyone to consider. But when Jesus reached adulthood and officially began his ministry, he started with being baptized by St. John. At this point, John proclaimed to his followers that Jesus was the promised Messiah, and the Trinity was revealed with the voice of the Father from heaven, and the Spirit descending in the form of a dove.

But why baptism? John was baptizing people for repentance, but Jesus was without sin. When John himself balked, Jesus said it was to fulfill all righteousness, which the Orthodox Church interprets to mean that his baptism was part of God's redemptive plan. He brought human nature into the water of repentance, but this was also a moment of redemption for the created world, which also suffers the effects of our fall. The water didn't cleanse him--he cleansed the water! And as water is integral to pretty much everything that lives on this planet, a cleansing of water extends to everything else. When we celebrate Theophany, we call on the Spirit to perform anew this miracle of redeeming the natural world. It works to do it indoors, with a big tub of water, but the connection is much more apparent when the blessing takes place at a natural waterway. In our case, the blessing flows from Rockburn Branch, into the Patapsco River, out to the Chesapeake Bay, and then to the Atlantic Ocean.

I didn't have much clue what to expect when I went. I wasn't able to find out until last night when the service would start, and even then I had no idea how long it would last or exactly when the outdoor blessing would take place. The liturgy started at 10:00 and was on the long side at something like two full hours. Then there was the indoor water blessing, so people could fill up jugs to take home. I kind of liked how this part worked. Perhaps it was by necessity because there's no plumbing into the chapel, but most people came in with jugs of water to dump into the containers for the blessing. Not that water is much of an offering, but still--the idea that we bring our fallen, contaminated water, and God gives it back to us made whole. After the blessing, several people left, while others stayed for a light lunch (which had to be set up, so that took more time). Then we got everything together and 13 of us went off to make our way through the woods, down to the creek. Fr. John said this was the first time they'd done it when the creek was significantly frozen, so it took some time to determine the best spot where we could get at the water. With the walk back up to the chapel, it was after 3:00 by the time I got home.

Taking the outdoor blessing in isolation, you couldn't have asked for a better setting--the woods, the light snow falling and just covering the ground, the iced-over creek, the bite in the air. It was exactly what such an outdoor winter sacrament should be. Though I must say, I was a bit relieved to find that they do not observe the custom of throwing the cross into the water, so those who choose to do so can jump in after it. The rest of the day was good as well, though a bit longer than I was hoping. I didn't really want to spend so much time away from my family, but it was nice that I had a chance to meet some of the parishoners and experience the services in both Slavonic and English. I'd probably be pretty lost if it were all in Slavonic, but between having a decent familiarity with the flow of the service and following enough in English, I usually knew right where we were, without once looking at a service book.

A lot of pictures were taken. I'll watch for them to go up on Holy Trinity's site, or more likely, that of Dn. Michael Bishop, and post a link if anything is available.