flying Simon

I had the opportunity last night to attend the patronal feast-day vigil at the ROC chapel of Ss. Peter and Paul here in Elkridge. (As much as I would love to have a full Orthodox parish within walking distance, it is still very cool to have a little chapel nearby, like some old-world village where scrounging up a priest to come out and celebrate the patronal feast at a local, all-but-abandoned shrine is an annual highlight. Or more to the point, I would love to see a revival of the tradition where everyone goes to the church dedicated to a particular saint on that saint's feast day. My circumstances don't always allow me to do it, but getting to the only Orthodox house of worship in Elkridge for its patronal feast is definitely going to be high on my recurring priorities.)

I had two revelations in the course of the service. (Not that kind.) First, knowing how to read Greek (loosely interpreted as meaning, at least I know the alphabet and a few other odds and ends) apparently means that I can follow along in the printed Slavonic service books. I hadn't really tried before. In the past, I just relied on my general knowledge of how the services run and getting my bearings whenever they switched to English. But at some point last night I started watching the Slavonic pages as well, and although I can't put together the sounds on my own, I found that I could track in the book with what was being chanted. That was helpful in keeping my place in the service; it also gave me some hope that, even without actually learning Slavonic, I might be able to pick up the pronunciation and improve my understanding of the script just by following along.

The second revelation had to do with the content of the service. Once again, I'm stuck having to rely on a passing observation, without finding a copy of the text; but I'm positive that one of the odes of the canon referred to the confrontation between Peter, Paul, and Simon Magus, where he flew about over the city of Rome, and they prayed to cast him down. I think it was back when I was in college that I was preparing a sermon outline or some such thing on the first part of Acts 8. In looking for more information about Simon Magus (I suppose I was trying to ascertain whether his conversion was genuine or not), I came across this passage in the apocryphal Acts of Peter and Paul:

Then Simon went up upon the tower in the face of all, and, crowned with laurels, he stretched forth his hands, and began to fly. And when Nero saw him flying, he said to Peter: This Simon is true; but you and Paul are deceivers. To whom Peter said: Immediately shall you know that we are true disciples of Christ; but that he is not Christ, but a magician, and a malefactor. Nero said: Do you still persist? Behold, you see him going up into heaven. Then Peter, looking steadfastly upon Paul, said: Paul, look up and see. And Paul, having looked up, full of tears, and seeing Simon flying, said: Peter, why are you idle? Finish what you have begun; for already our Lord Jesus Christ is calling us. And Nero hearing them, smiled a little, and said: These men see themselves worsted already, and are gone mad. Peter said: Now you shall know that we are not mad. Paul said to Peter: Do at once what you do.

And Peter, looking steadfastly against Simon, said: I adjure you, you angels of Satan, who are carrying him into the air, to deceive the hearts of the unbelievers, by the God that created all things, and by Jesus Christ, whom on the third day He raised from the dead, no longer from this hour to keep him up, but to let him go. And immediately, being let go, he fell into a place called Sacra Via, that is,Holy Way, and was divided into four parts, having perished by an evil fate.

The story stuck in my head at the time, probably as evidence of how wildly fanciful these apocryphal stories were. But apparently it was embraced in the Tradition of the Church as an authentic encounter. This doesn't mean that the book itself is inspired Scripture, but at least in this instance it happens to record something that actually happened. After a few years of reading lives of saints, I like to think that my take on what's "wildly fanciful" is a bit less biased than it used to be. For some reason, Evangelical Protestants have developed a habit of accepting at face value the supernatural powers manifested in biblical narratives, while discounting out of hand anything extra-biblical that really goes no further. Does it require more faith to believe that Simon flew by demonic power than to believe that demons could give superhuman strength or send a herd of pigs over a cliff? Is it any more fantastic that Peter would pray to end this blasphemous display than any exorcism found in the New Testament? Which came first--the assumption that such things only happened in the first century, or the refusal to accept them on any authority but the Bible?

Anyway, my point in bringing this up is not to preach. I'm just tickled that, after all these years, it turns out I can believe the story really happened.

cautiously optimistic about Chambésy

Most of the reactions that I've seen online to the recent Preconciliar Pan-Orthodox Conference in Chambésy have been either dismissive--it won't change much of anything--or downright negative--it's a step backward from the goal of Orthodox unity. Personally, I didn't feel like there was enough on which to comment until the publication this weekend of the official statement, and particularly of the promised "rules of operation." Having seen them, I must say I think there's reason to be hopeful.

Some have said that the proposed regional episcopal assemblies won't contribute anything to the American situation in particular, since we already have SCOBA. But there is a definitive difference--SCOBA's membership corresponds with that of the proposed Executive Committee: "the Primatial Bishops of each of the canonical Churches in the Region." The assembly itself, however, will consist of "all Orthodox Bishops of each region . . . who are in canonical communion with all the local Autocephalous Orthodox Churches." This is not only a more canonical arrangement (all bishops participate as equals), but it promises more balanced representation. Instead of, for instance, Bp. Ilia of the Albanian Diocese under the Ecumenical Patriarchate (representing two parishes) holding equal standing with Met. Jonah of the OCA (representing hundreds of parishes), the assembly would include all of the OCA bishops (not to mention, all of the Greek bishops, all of the Antiochian, etc.). It won't be strictly based on numbers of parishes or parishoners represented, but in general the larger jurisdictions will have more bishops in the assembly.

Another important point made clear in the statement is that this is an interim measure, designed to bridge the gap until a fully canonical resolution can be established at a future Pan-Orthodox Council. I realize there is a lot of cynicism about whether such a Council will ever happen, but there should still be at least two positive outcomes. First, the assemblies, to the extent that they perform their desired functions, should foster a unifying process over time. There is even an explicit prohibition on "actions that could hinder the above process for a canonical resolution of the issue of the Diaspora." For instance, there should be less confusion about clerical appointments and discipline: "It must record every decision relating to clerics promulgated by their bishops, in order that this decision is applied among all the Orthodox Churches in the Region." Second, they are specifically directed to work on developing canonical solutions. If that actually happens, we'll probably find ourselves in a better position further down the line, even if a Council never materializes. The latter outcome is safeguarded by specific requirements to meet regularly, and a mechanism for the bishops to call meetings even without the chairman's initiative. The assembly meets at least annually but may meet more often; the executive committee meets at least quarterly. One-third of the membership of either body may call a meeting.

Another point that should not be discounted is that this proposal has the stamp of approval from the Ecumenical Patriarchate. There seems to be a lot of negativity about this--whether anyone will accept the requirement that the chairman must be the ranking EP bishop, whether more conservative jurisdictions will follow, etc. (How much difference will it make that the MP is endorsing this plan?) But it seems to me that at least the perception of SCOBA is that its efforts at unity have stalled in the past because of EP intervention. If that's no longer going to be an obstacle, isn't that reason to be optimistic? Also, given the composition of the assembly and the directive to operate by consensus, I don't think anyone will need to fear a partisan agenda (liberal or otherwise) being pushed through against the wishes of certain jurisdictions.

Of course, if the American bishops aren't also hopeful about this proposal, it probably won't go anywhere. But my ignorant assessment is that it's a workable structure, and probably the best possible arrangement we can hope for right now. There will be time later to see whether the push is toward complete EP dominance, but for right now, taken at face value, I think it's a good opportunity to work out our own issues on our own soil.

more grumbling about the Dorsey station

It feels like too long since I last grumbled about the Dorsey MARC station and Rt. 100. Apparently the engineering firm that designed the Dorsey station won an award and some honorable mentions for the project. Good for them that I wasn't on the committees handing out awards--I'm not sure they would have fared as well. I suppose it depends on your criteria. The station is designed well as a fortress. It is hemmed in on two sides by steep grades that make overland access virtually impossible. Opposite these, there is an office park and a rather roundabout route, with no real entrance to the station. Fortunately, there is a paved cut-through for foot and bike access (must have been an oversight), but coming from the north you still have to traverse a circuitous path that adds significantly to the travel time involved.

Apparently it's more important that cars have the most direct access possible. I'm not sure why, since they're the fastest-moving option, and extra distance has less effect for them; but there it is. The best access to this modern-day Masada is an air-drop from the elevated highway that reinforces beyond all reason its north-facing impregnability. An elevated highway, I might add, that like most controlled access routes is off-limits to bikes and pedestrians. So, I have to climb over it, then skirt around the other side of the station.

For the most part, this is well-worn ground. The reason for my new rant is that I thought I had discovered an alternate route--shorter distance, and more back roads--but it was not to be. Google Maps thought so, but I was skeptical. For some reason, the address it pulls up for the station puts it on the other side of the tracks. A more suitable phrase cannot be found--apparently that's the way the barbarian hordes will come. I've looked down before on that road, from the lofty perch of the northbound platform. As I suspected, there is no access between the two, designed or incidental. Nor is there anywhere suitable to leave a bike at the bottom of the hill, if one were inclined to bushwhack an assault. So for all the apparent usefulness of that route, you're still left having to travel past the station and double back, to come in the very same way that I already do now.

Now, I'll admit that the engineers and architects may have done the best they could. I doubt that they had anything to do with the height of Rt. 100, and presumably the tracks were already higher than the adjacent road before the station was put in. But surely something could have been done to make it more broadly accessible. The grading isn't as steep elsewhere--perhaps a better location, or more of an effort to create a walkable hill. Failing that, what about putting in a stairway and a bike rack at the bottom? Apparently the completion of Rt. 100 included the station in its design--why couldn't they push the access road all the way through into the industrial park on the north side, so at-grade access from the north would be possible without a car?

The real problem is how the station was envisioned, as a car-accessible enclave, with no real connection to anything beyond Rt. 100. It is surrounded by other roads, but they may as well not exist. They're already talking about mixed-use development around the Savage station; how long before the same thing comes to Dorsey, and with it presumably (hopefully) a complete redesign of the station, at least as it relates to its environment? Wouldn't it have been better to make the place accessible from the beginning?

until next year

Once again, we come to the great parting of the ways between Orthodox believers on the "Old Calendar" and those on the "New Calendar." The 13-day lag, of course, is with us year-round, since the fixed calendar never really stops. But for those blessed 18 weeks--more than a third of the year--we all share in common the movable feasts and fasts.

The movable calendar starts, at a minimum, ten weeks before Pascha and extends eight weeks after. The four Pre-Lenten Sundays include: Publican and Pharisee, Prodigal Son, Last Judgment, and Expulsion from Eden. Fasting is forbidden during the first week, regular during the second (ending with Meatfare Sunday), and vegetarian during the third (ending with Cheesefare Sunday).

Lent starts with Clean Week, the Monday after Cheesefare. Strict fasting continues for 40 days, including five Sundays: Triumph of Orthodoxy, Gregory Palamas, Exaltation of the Cross, Ladder of Divine Ascent, and Mary of Egypt.

The 40-day fast of Lent ends on Friday, followed by Lazarus Saturday, Palm Sunday, and the even stricter fast of Holy Week. Pascha follows on Sunday, then Bright Week, with fasting forbidden. Normal fasting resumes after Thomas Sunday, the first of six Sundays identified between Pascha and Pentecost: Thomas, Myrrhbearing Women, Paralytic, Samaritan Woman, Blind Man, and Holy Fathers.

The Feast of Ascension always falls on the Thursday before Holy Fathers, exactly 40 days after Pascha. Pentecost follows, on the 50th day after Pascha, then fasting is forbidden for a week until the Sunday of All Saints. That Monday starts the Apostles' Fast, which lasts until the Feast of Peter and Paul on June 29. This fast bridges the gap back to the fixed calendar and thus marks the end of the movable feasts. It's always 13 days longer on the Old Calendar than the New, and the rest of the year is just more of the same.

At least we have this much in common, but it still seems a high price to pay so we can celebrate Christmas on Western time.

a year ago today

Today (or rather, yesterday liturgically) being Pentecost, I took a stroll down memory lane. Last year at Pentecost, Ian, Jenna, and I entered the Church through baptism and chrismation. If anyone cares to read, the last few posts from my old blog preserve my reflections before, during, and after the event. It's amazing to me that a full year has passed already, but then sometimes my complacency reminds me that the initial thrill has definitely worn off.

A couple of weird coincidences to mark the occasion:

• For the past several months, instead of trying to track each day with the prescribed readings in the lectionary, I've simply been reading through each of the four Gospels, loosely synchronized with the time of year--John in the spring, Matthew in the summer, Luke in the fall, Mark in the winter. I just start at the beginning, try to read a bit each day, and repeat as much as necessary until the end of the season. It happens that, without knowing or planning it, I read today's assigned Gospel passage this morning before church.
• When we put Jenna to bed, we realized her cross had come off its chain at some point, exactly a year after she got it. Hopefully it will turn up somewhere . . .

stinkin' Yankees

Apparently one of the advantages of having preserved the Union is that Northern garbage finds its home in the South. Literally. Garbage. On stinkin' long trains (and I only had to smell it going by on a 40-degree morning), mostly hauling from NYC to various landfills in Virginia. Jeff Davis must be retching in his grave.

I'm sorry. I really am. For being from the inconsiderate North. For eating fast food that comes with more packaging than calories. Tie me to a track in a vain attempt to stop the madness. Or more plausibly, try to get through a day without generating more garbage. (One day isn't so hard--start there, and do the same thing again tomorrow.) Give a rebel yell for the poor and defeated who have more open land than money or dignity. Shed a tear with the old Indian by the road. Repent in dust and ashes before the God who made us stewards of his creation. Or at least go stand on a train platform in August and breathe deep the stench of your own death.

cleanness of teeth

I'm guessing that somewhere someone is using Amos 4:6a as a life-verse for dentists:

And I also have given you cleanness of teeth in all your cities . . .

much like the exegetically suspect line reportedly seen in a Christmas card:

And they that dwell upon the earth shall rejoice . . . and shall make merry, and shall send gifts one to another . . . (Rev 11:10)

But Amos's point is not primarily about oral hygiene. The next line adds:

. . . and want of bread in all your places . . .

suggesting that this cleanness of teeth comes from not eating.

I was reminded of this Hebrew phrase (in the Greek translation it becomes "gnashing of teeth") in the context of fasting for Lent. When you give up meat, flossing loses much of its apparent usefulness. The main purpose, as far as I'm concerned, is to maintain the habit until the fast is over. But actually getting anything stuck in one's teeth becomes a rare occurrence. When you give up all food, as on Holy Friday, even brushing seems reduced to the purpose of covering up (however feebly) the stink of an empty digestive system.

Perhaps now brushing my teeth can become a reminder, however small, of God's blessing--that the food particles I must scrub away every morning and evening are a gift many would feel fortunate to have.