Lent?

We drove past a large sign posted in front of a church near us. There was no time to read it all, but the first lines, after the name of the church, read:

LENTEN FESTIVAL!
Lenten fun, foods, games, crafts

Some sort of local Mardi Gras? Some pre-Lent carnival?

?????????????

Fun

Spent part of yesterday and all day today with my mother and sister. Tonight the retirement community had a jokes evening, which we all attended. Here's my favorite, of the ones told:

A 50-year-old married couple was eating at a fancy restaurant when a tiny fairy appeared on their table and said, "I will grant each of you one wish."

The wife said, "I'd like a cruise around the whole world, stopping anywhere I like, with all the luxuries included."

"Granted," said the fairy, and poof! - the tickets appeared in her hand.

The husband said, "I'm sorry, my dear, to tell you this, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and what I really want is a wife half my age."

"Granted," said the fairy, and poof! - he turned 100.

Greatly to be Feared

It has finally dawned upon me, clear as the rising sun, why people on their very deathbeds sometimes find repentance impossible.  You'd think a person staring death in the face would hasten to repent as thoroughly as he could, but some, astonishingly, don't.  "It's too late," they say, and you want to tell them no, it's never too late until your last breath; hurry up and be reconciled with God! 

But you know what?  They're right.  It is too late for them, because it's no good asking God for forgiveness when you know in your heart you lived the way you wanted to and, given the chance, would make the same choices all over again.  Such people know what they did was wrong, but they cannot feel sorry; they tell themselves, by heaven, I am still glad I did it, because look how miserable (or perhaps just how dull) my life would otherwise have been!  Look at the pleasures I would have missed.

So they die still enslaved to the god Pleasure, who now, in their hour of need, not only cannot help them, but to their bitter resentment has already abandoned them - permanently.

Kyrie, eleison!  Have mercy upon us and deliver us from such a fate.

First Time I Ever met Drew

Drew is another of Laura's two older brothers, and this is how I met him.  I hope he doesn't remember it, but I can never forget.

A stupid or desperate pair of sparrows had built their nest in a shrub just outside the window of our family room, within easy reach of any cat or raccoon or other predator.  I had been keeping a sharp eye on it for weeks, to keep the hatchlings safe, when one afternoon I heard a huge commotion coming from the shrub.  I glanced out the window and there was Zeffie, a solid black cat from next door, sitting on the window sill, gazing deeply at the nest.  The nest was empty.

I raced outside, screaming at Zeffie and I have to tell you, the volley of obscenities that flew out of my mouth would have done a politician proud.  I was stretching my arm out to knock that cat down from the windowsill when a small, soft voice behind me said, "I'm sorry if my cat has been bothering you..."  and whirling around, I saw Drew, four years old, licking a popsicle.

"Well, I suppose it isn't really Zeffie's fault," I said, trying to calm down.  "I'm sorry.  She was only doing what cats do.   It's just - just - well, I wonder if your mom could keep her inside for a few days."

Something in my peripheral vision moved, and when I looked, it was one of the baby birds.  Drew and I hastened toward it to pick up this lone survivor and put it back in the nest or else I would raise it myself; but as I approached, it took flight and went all the way up to the top of a tall tree.  And turning our necks upward to where it sat, we noticed that all three of its siblings were up there, too.

Zeffie hadn't gotten a single one of them.  In fact, she hadn't caused the commotion at all.  She had simply been attracted to the scene by the ruckus the fledglings themselves had made, venturing out into the world for the first time.  Zeffie had only been a fascinated but innocent onlooker.

When he became a teenager, Drew used to mow and trim our lawn.  He's in college now, his mom tells us, where he is something of a football star.

Zeffie, having lived into old age, is buried out in the back yard.  There was a cross marking her grave until the house went up for sale.  I don't suppose the family living there now are aware of it.

We love you and miss you, Drew!

Hitting the Jackpot!

It begins with a story I may or may not have told here before, but need to tell again.

I was home alone one day, doing something on my computer upstairs, when I heard the front door open. At first I thought perhaps it had blown open somehow, but then I heard tentative footsteps in the front hall. I knew I should probably hide or maybe call 911, but my curiosity overcame fear, and I began tiptoeing toward the stairs to see who was in my house. I had almost reached the stairs, heart pounding, when I heard a small voice: "I brought you a carrot!" And I realized it was Laura, the four-year-old from next door, come to see my new baby rabbit.

She had been invited several times before, but this day, she came all uninvited, and knowing she was always welcome, had just let herself in.

Miss Maybelline, the rabbit we so named because of the very narrow rings of black fur around the eyes, making them look enormous -- Miss Maybelline was why Laura first started visiting us.  (We later had to re-name this rabbit Mr. Mascara, but the new name never stuck.)

Later, the visits grew longer because we added tea parties to them. For years, we'd have "tea", really hot chocolate at first, and cookies or finger sandwiches, and we'd practice good table manners and conversation and pouring and being careful with the antique china. It was a doll's set of very fine China. It had real gold rims, and in all the years we had tea parties together, Laura never damaged a single piece - and she always insisted upon carrying it all to the sink afterward.

Eventually, she began bringing her girlfriends around, and they'd be included in the tea parties, too.

Later still, we did other fun things together, like going to amusement parks and the children's museum and doing crafts at home.

Every time she would come over, the first thing I'd ask was, "Does your Mom know you're here?" because often, she didn't, so we'd have to rectify that immediately. I remember one time when I asked the question, Laura replied, "Well, she's up in her room with the door locked, which means one of two things. Either she has headache or else she has stress." So we didn't call her that day.

We learned to ride bikes together. I hadn't ridden one in 30 years, and it is NOT true you can just get back up on one and know how to do it. I was wobbly and uncertain. I once asked Laura, "Do you feel a little scared about going around corners? Because I do."

"Oh, no, not at all!" she said, "Because see my bike? It says, 'Hot Stuff' all over it."

On 9/11, I spent the day with her mother, Michaux, in their living room, because neither of us felt like being alone that day (nobody did). So I was there when Laura came home from school, and her mother sat down with her and tried to explain, briefly, what had happened. Laura only had two questions, both of which, like everything else about that day, are burned into my memory: "Are they going to attack Richmond?" and "Is New York far, far away?"

The summer Laura was 9 years old, she became my wildlife rehabbing assistant. She became an expert in feeding baby squirrels and songbirds and took excellent care of several mallard ducklings.

Laura's favorite female relative was her Aunt Beth. One day when we were walking her back home, she said to me, "I love coming to your house, because I always have fun and I always learn something! It's like I have another --"

Another aunt, surely?

"Another grandmother, except right next door!" I think that was the first time I ever felt old.

In 2004, Laura's family moved to another neighborhood, and we just never recovered from the loss. We have only kept in touch very sporadically but have missed them every day. When we got back from Greece this year there was a two-month-old note in our mailbox from Laura, saying she had found a kitten and could I help find it a home, and it was signed, "Your granddaughter, Laura." I tried a couple of times to get her by phone, but no luck, and then, well, life gets busy, and sometimes complicated.

Tonight we went to the Outback to satisfy Demetrios' craving for a good steak (while we still may!) and suddenly, beside our table, were two beautiful blondes, who said, "Do you know us?"

It took a long moment, during which my mind was racing; who could these be? And then I squealed, "LAURA!" and then, "Michaux!"  I nearly cried. They had already finished their meal, but they did stay there at our table and talk for 20 minutes or so. Ben was there, too, one of Laura's two older brothers. He works there as a server. He's tall and handsome and attending a community college here.

Laura is 17 now, a senior in high school, has a boyfriend, looks very much the same as always except mature and even more lovely, has kept her faith, has remained as sweet and kind as ever, and still has that antique doll tea set, which I gave her the Christmas a year after she moved.

I told Demetrios, afterward, that it felt as if we'd been reunited with someone back from the dead.  He said no, not quite like that.  Okay, then, it's like winning the lottery or hitting the jackpot, only better!

When we got home, I rummaged around on my computer to find the note I wrote to go with the tea set, and here it is:

Christmas, 2005

Dear Laura,

These are not just toys; they are real, bone china. They are very fine china, so fine that they are translucent.  If you hold them up to the light, you can see the shadows of your fingers right through the dishes. You hardly ever find anything that delicate, even in the finest china shops.

They are probably antiques, as well. They were given to me by an old lady when I was your age. At any rate, it seemed to me she was old, but maybe she wasn’t; I’m not sure now. Anyway, she had had them since SHE was a little girl. So that makes them about ninety years old, at the very least, and maybe quite a bit older!

I don’t know why she chose me to give them to. But I do know why I’m choosing you. I was saving these, as special treasures, for my oldest granddaughter. But then when I began to think about it, she doesn’t have any memories of them; she hasn’t had the good times with them that you and I have. They wouldn’t mean anything to her. And besides, in a way you are my oldest granddaughter! I remember you saying it seemed to you as if I was another grandmother to you, who lived right next door, and it does feel like that to me, too. I also remember that you always handled them gently and took good care of them.

So I hope you’ll continue to take excellent care of them, so you can enjoy them all your life and still have them when you are an old lady. And when that time comes, I hope some wonderful little girl comes once in a while to have tea with you and add joy to your day, as you have added joy to so many of mine.

Merry Christmas!

and heaps of love,
Miss Anastasia

"Who are You to Tell me How to Live my Life?"

When I was in England, I was told this is an attitude common among Englishmen toward their clergy.

One readily sees it’s a valid question, and the implied answer has some validity, too; since even God leaves me free to obey Him or not, who dares dictate to me? To anybody who would try, I’d ask the same question: Who do you think you are?

But Christian obedience is not supposed to work as an authoritarian system. It isn’t a case of the preacher telling me what to do and I do it precisely because he has told me and he is backed by God’s own authority. That latter bit may or may not be true, but to say that’s the reason we obey would be, for the Orthodox Christian at least, a bit of a distortion.

To see why, let’s first recall how “authority” works among Orthodox Christians. There is what I would call “formal” authority, vested in a person by virtue of his office. And then there is informal authority, which we freely accord to certain persons among us, clerical or lay, male or female. “Authority” in this sense denotes the deference we give to people who by walking the Orthodox Christian path, have come very closely to resemble Christ, people in whose flesh and blood Christ is recognizably living. These are people who embody all our theology, people who make our hearts sing and our eyes weep for joy, people who more or less already are the Person we all want to become. To such radiant souls we give heed. We beseech them, “Give us a word!” The Holy Spirit in our hearts leaps when they speak, and with joy we recognize the soul-liberating Truth in their words. We take their advice to heart because in effect, they are telling us how they came to be who they are, who we all want to be. We take joy in serving them, too, as they take greater joy in serving us. Who are they to tell us how to live our lives? They are Christ with skin on, and they do not tell us how to live our lives unless we ask, and even then, they only tell us as much as they perceive we are ready to hear. And they are advising, emphatically not dictating. They are not controlling us, but the very opposite, teaching us how to be free.

And they are bearing witness to why we ought to live a certain way: because it’s good for us! Because there’s a certain way of life that (as we can see and experience for ourselves by being around such people) approximates heaven on earth. Because this is the way of peace, of wholeness, of joy, of love, of genuine fulfillment at every level of our being.

Imagine what would happen if there were no Ten Commandments, if it were perfectly acceptable to steal and lie and commit adultery and murder and dishonor parents. Well, no need to imagine! We see it all around us, our society falling apart as these basic rules fall into disuse. If the Commandments seem restrictive, it is only our madness they are restricting, our tendency to self-destruct.

There is no commandment given by God just to please Himself. He does not simply decide for no reason that He likes this behavior or dislikes that one and we’d better obey or else – even though that is the way it sometimes sounds in Scripture. Instead, He who is all-knowing and all-wise knows what will promote our well-being, body and spirit, here and in the ages to come. In the end, we obey as much for our own sake as for the love of God.

Since Christ was obedient at all times to His Father, even to the point of accepting His cross, then obedience cannot be beneath us. But it isn’t because we are brow-beaten or spiritually or socially or emotionally blackmailed into it. Obedience is always offered in freedom. Nobody can dictate to us how to live our lives.

Religion of Suffering?

There is a widespread misunderstanding among the heterodox, in which suffering is considered to be some sort of antidote or counterweight to sin. One suffers in order to make up for ones past sins or those of others. "Voluntary expiatory suffering", by Christ and/or by us in union with Him, is thought somehow to be pleasing to God, as if it were the opposite of sin, helping to even up the celestial ledger.

This notion is illustrated in something a Roman Catholic saint wrote, quoted in this entry in a Catholic blog entitled, "Joining God in penance and suffering".

When someone desires to suffer, it is not merely a pious reminder of the suffering of the Lord. Voluntary expiatory suffering is what truly and really unites one to the Lord intimately. When it arises, it comes from an already existing relationship with Christ. For, by nature, a person flees from suffering. And the mania for suffering caused by a perverse lust for pain differs completely from the desire to suffer in expiation. Such lust is not a spiritual striving, but a sensory longing, no better than other sensory desires, in fact worse, because it is contrary to nature. Only someone whose spiritual eyes have been opened to the supernatural correlations of worldly events can desire suffering in expiation…

Only those who are saved, only children of grace, can in fact be bearers of Christ’s cross. Only in union with the divine Head does human suffering take on expiatory power.

??????????

It's actually a slur upon God's kindness, compassion, and love, to think He is pleased to see us suffer. He is pleased to see us love and obey, even if that brings suffering, but the suffering itself is not the point.  The love is, together with the obedience love brings.  Obedient love, not suffering, is the real opposite of sin. 

Good News:   God's forgiveness - freely offered, not in return for for anything else, especially suffering! - is what truly expiates (undoes) our guilt.  And it's Christ's Resurrection that expiates our death. 

Christ is risen from the dead,
Trampling down death by death
And upon those in the tombs bestowing Life!

The Stethoscope

Rosemary shared this on Facebook, and I thought I should pass it on. Enjoy!

...and Not by Faith, Either

God does not save us by our works, and most of us are reasonably clear about that.

Well, God doesn't save us by our faith, either.

He doesn't save us because our works please Him and He doesn't save us because our faith pleases Him.  He doesn't save us because we are pleasing to Him in any way whatsoever.   He saves us because that is His will, and that is His will because He loves us, unconditionally and infinitely,  period. 

He doesn't save us BECAUSE we have faith; that's not the reason salvation apart from faith is impossible. The reason is, faith is the interface between God and us, without which there is no pathway of communication, let alone communion, and salvation = communion in God's life and glory and blessedness.

So it's through faith, but it's by grace, pure grace, all grace.

New E-mail Address

As of right now, my new e-mail address is:

anastasiatheo001ATverizonDOTnet

The only difference between this and the previous address is that "verizon" now appears where "comcast" was.

We switched because Verizon, unlike Comcast, will FREEZE our account while we are away and charge us nothing.  That will be a huge savings.

Our monthly billing for the bundle is also a bit less.

AND, unexpected bonus, a fiber optic router just when my Linksys router had given out, and the equivalent of a TVO - ability to record programs, starting from the beginning even if  you forget to record it until well into the show, or record whole series, pause and restart live TV, play it in slow motion, see your computer on your TV screen, check local weather with two clicks, and much more. 

We don't watch much TV, so don't know whether we will use many of these cool new features, but WAY COOL is what they are!

Golden Years

The "golden years" are those after you retire and before your health fails.  And they are precious few.

What I say is:  Retire as soon as you reasonably can.  Don't wait to accumnulate a big hoard, just enough to be sufficiently provided for with a little left over, if you can, to have a some fun while you can and compensate for modest cost-of-living increases after that.

Too many people make the mistake of waiting too long; they retire one day and have a heart attack the next.

On Finding A Parish Home

"Church-shopping" is something I suppose all of us probably do. I know that when we're in England, if we had any other feasible, realistic choice, we wouldn't go to the parish we do. It's quite a closed club.

And if you have two or three or more Orthodox parishes within a reasonable distance from you, it's good to find one where you feel comfortable. For example, you might not like one whose liturgy is all in Greek or Arabic.

But there is a mistake analogous to the ones my friends made (and no, I'm not saying they made this one; it's just that I was reminded of it) and that is to seek a parish worthy of my attendance. Or even a jurisdiction pure enough for me to join. How can I possibly imagine being under the auspices of that cigar-smoking metropolitan, or that archbishop who has been involved in such scandal, or that slack organization?

It's like several of those old jokes:

"Father, the reason I don't come to church is, the people there are all hypocrites."

"My son, there's always room for one more!"



And, "If I ever found a perfect church they wouldn't let me join."



And I recall a time, in my Episcopalian days, when I at last informed the rector, "I'm ready now to join your parish," and he said, "Let me look to see if there are any openings."    !


There has never been a perfect parish on earth and never will be this side of heaven, for the simple reason that we are all imperfect human beings. The Church of Corinth was a total mess even in St. Paul's day - in spite of the great advantage of having had the Apostle himself to found it, to preach to the Corinthian Christians and teach them. Would you have refused to join it?

We bear one another's burdens, put up with one another's faults. Because hard as it is to believe, the day is surely coming, if it hasn't already, when we shall be very grateful the others are bearing with ours.

On Finding a Spiritual Father

One of the mistakes my friends made, which I am able to pass on to you, was to seek out somebody worthy of being their spiritual father, worthy of giving them advice.

Now besides that quest requiring us to be judgmental, the reality is, all any of us needs is a spiritual father or mother who is a little ahead of us in the journey. And the further reality is, that's a great many people. Yes, each of us is unique and infinitely special, but we (Orthodox) are all on the same path, after all. The traps, the pitfalls, the dangers along the way are well known and have been signposted by wise Christians for 2,000 years. The average parish priest is quite competent to hear our confessions (which are FAR from unique!) and to offer us the usual, handed-down, but personalized, tailored-just-for-me wisdom we need. We do not need to find somebody who walks on water.

But my friends were looking for that saint. They say part of what motivated them was pride but another part of it was a desire to duck responsibility, not to have to make decisions any more, but leave it all in someone else's hands, whom they would blindly and absolutely obey, no matter what. You can't, of course, give full control of your body and soul over to just anybody.

My friends had good motives, too, mixed in with these, more good motives than bad; but it's the bad ones need our attention, lest we meet a similar fate.

Back to reality for a moment. Every human being who ever existed was born with a conscience. Christ is the Light enlightening every man coming into the world, according to St. John. Moreover, we Orthodox have been chrismated, given the Holy Spirit. As St. Paul wrote, "We have the mind of Christ." There is no need to have someone else do all our thinking for us. In fact, it's a terrible thing to resign our conscience, to give up the use of that mind of Christ He has given us, to relinquish "the glorious liberty of the children of God." Archbishop Puhalo reminds us that God doesn't want us to become dependent, spiritual cripples, but to exercise responsibility and serve God in freedom.

The worst danger of all for the person seeking a saint to guide him is if he should find one - or think he has. "It can slip too easily into idolatry," my friend told me.

A normal, good spiritual father or mother will never, ever allow this to happen. He will give you advice and you will fully obey, but in complete freedom and with the full approval of your own mind, your own heart, and your own conscience, and not in conflict with these.

But should the seeker fall into the wrong hands, that's a differnt story. A spiritual father or mother suffering from pride, or intoxicated by control over people, or someone deluded about his own role and his own holiness, that man or woman might let it happen. He may even encourage us to put him, in effect, in that place Christ alone should hold, and may describe any resistance to this as thoughts from the devil.

To protect ourselves, let us think of it this way: Who am I to need a worthier spiritual father than anybody else? If the parish priest is good enough for most of his flock, why shouldn't he be good enough for me?

The temptation is to reply to ourselves: Because he's a slacker. I need someone who will guide me in properly strict, TRUE Orthodoxy.

No, we don't. Orthodoxy as usually practiced is plenty strict enough. Try to do an even more demanding version of it and most likely we will fail spiritually, either because we couldn't do all that stuff, or else because we could. That's why there's this beautiful irony that if we DID actually find a saint to guide us, he or she would have us start out in baby steps anyway, doing even less than all those "slackers" we so judgmentally think we perceive out there. And then we might judge him another slackard!

The safeguard seems to be
to get over ourselves
and
to get real.

Three More Warning Signs

I don’t yet know enough about what's going on to list for you all the warning signs that you may have encountered a cult, but I have been made vividly and painfully aware of a few.

* While you are confessing your sins, the priest asks too many, too intimate questions or leads you on to discuss sexual matters too much AND/OR lays shame upon you, as if you were the scum of the earth, AND/OR excludes you from Holy Communion for a time that seems disproportionate. Such a person is trying to manipulate you by guilt - and/or getting his vicarious sexual jollies in this way.

* You are advised that you and your spouse need to live as brother and sister from now on. St. Paul says no, you aren’t to do that.

* You are told that blind obedience to your spiritual father is necessary. Obedience is good, but blind obedience is very dangerous. Even (especially!) when your spiritual father is very charming and you have complete confidence in him. There’s a good reason “con artist” is short for “confidence artist”.

* The Orthodox Christian Faith is all about God's Love, and about having faith in God's Love, all about taking great joy in His Love, all about having peace in His Love. All the rest is props. If any group takes away these things, leading you to doubt God will save you unless you do everything exactly as they tell you, they are definitely working for the wrong side. And it is absolutely certain that any group that values the props more than the person (you) is not representing the Lord Christ.

UPDATES:

Beware a priest or other spiritual advisor who tells you you must not have sex with your spouse except to procreate, and even then must take care to avoid having any pleasure in it. This is more puritannical than the Puritans.

Beware the one who tells you that if you have sex with your spouse, you must wait 40 days afterward to receive Holy Communion. And if you haven't done that up to now, you have committed the further sin of receiving the sacrament unworthily.

FLEE from such. Flee first and ask questions later. This drivel has nothing to do with Holy Orthodoxy.

Alert for Friends and Family: Change of E-mail Address

We are switching internet providers, which means my/our e-mail address will change.  We do not yet know for sure what it will be, but it will become effective the evening of Friday, the 18th.  I will try to post the new address here and on Facebook by Saturday morning at the latest.

And I'm going to see if we can't set up a permanent e-mail address this time, that won't change every time we switch providers (which for some reason, seems to be every couple of years). 

Meanwhile, through Thursday night, the 17th, the current e-mail address will still be valid.