St. Photini and XC
Category: Personal Journey
Paralyzed
This week our Church commemorates the Sunday of the Paralytic. The Gospel reading is taken from St. John 5, 1 – 15. One thing struck me after I read this passage. Aren’t all of us paralyzed in one way or the other? The young man in the Gospel account was physically impaired for many years, but he never gave up on the possibility of being healed. He waited by the pool for thirty-eight years for his deliverance.
Christ and the Paralytic
Turning to Christ in faith is not a magic formula. Wholeness involves the restoration of our spirit. This restoration may impart to us the capacity to recognize our paralysis, to understand its cause and to start on a path to wellness. Its possible physical limitations remain with us to illumine our heart to overcome the deeper emotional weakness. The healing of Christ is a mystery as is the opportunity to witness His love in our life. Our witness, like the young man’s in the temple, is the acknowledgement that God is working to transform our heart.
]]>Light
It’s funny how much the theme of light comes up during Great Lent and Holy Week. I was looking at an icon just a few days ago. The icon was in a dark corner with a vigil light placed in front of it and the light danced on the image making the image shimmer. The effect
catalyzed my thinking about light. In modern times most of us, who are urban dwellers, really don’t understand darkness. The ambient light somehow prevents us from experiencing true darkness. Since it is difficult to experience true darkness, can we really understand the power of light? Many times you read or better still, speak to someone about their experience of the Easter Vigil, the first thing they mention is the light and how it seems to come rolling through the Church at ‘Come Receive the Light.’
The dictionary on my computer defines light in two ways. First, it gives a very precise definition of the physics of light, photons, electromagnetic waves and energy quanta; then it uses this phrase to describe light for the rest of us “the natural agent that stimulates sight and makes things visible”. It was this definition that I’d like to explore theologically, stimulating sight and making things visible, in what way? In the Pre-Sanctified Liturgy, celebrated during Great Lent, the phrase we hear is “The Light of Christ”. It occurs to me that there is a lens by which we should filter the light we see…Christ! If our light is seen through this lens then how should we perceive it? But, Christ doesn’t say: “I am the lens” he says; “I am the LIght.” He is the source of what is visible, but what are the implications of being the source of the visible? We should define our world by His perception not our own. We see in icons and hear in hymns that Christ shatters the darkness. Does he shatter our darkness? Do we allow His Light to illumine our heart and mind? St. John states quite succinctly in the Gospel reading read during the Paschal Liturgy, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1, 5). The most difficult surrender is the surrender of our fears. These fears are our greatest darkness.
Christ is Risen!
Christ stands ready to be the Light in our darkness. Our task is to permit the Light to enter, to roll back the great stone of our own tomb to let the power of the Light penetrate our private darkness.
The Light has overcome the darkness.
Pascha 2009
PASCHA 2009
The Final Four
Discerning the Signs of the Times (Part 3)
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and being the servant of one’s neighbor in the world. Through his life and writings, we can see a Christian who does not cloister his faith, but makes faith alive in service to humanity. For Bukharev, a faith alive was one that had a social context to alleviate suffering in the earthly world. As Behr-Sigel says: “Bukharev’s approach was the integral connection between this ‘mystical theology’ and the concern for a compassionate, actively creative and transforming presence in the world.” The Monk in the City as Elisabeth titles her essay elucidates a life of service linked with a profound spiritual empting of one’s self to express the love of Christ. This theology expresses “worship of the living God through service to others” is evocative of the life of Mother Teresa of Calcutta.
The proceeding chapter focuses on the story of Mother Maria Skobtsova (1891-1945)a spiritual inheritor of the theology of Bukharev. Born in Latvia, her name in the world was Elisabeth Pilenko. She became a politically active Socialist in Russia around the time of the revolution; escaping to Paris with her husband. In Paris, she became involved with the Russian Students Movement and became friends with many of the Russian theological intelligentsia. Sergius Bulgakov became her father confessor. A theologian, poet and social worker she petitioned her bishop to take up the habit. She was professed and was given the monastic name Maria.
[caption id="attachment_332" align="alignright" width="102" caption="Mother Maria of Paris"]
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She strongly wished to continue a monasticism open to the world in the manner of Alexander Bukharev. In the 1930s she reached out to the suffering poor of Paris. A controversial socially active monasticism caused a scandal with more conservative church members, but Mother Maria endured. With the advent of World War II, Mother Maria and her friends reached out to help Jews hide and escape Nazi persecution. She was betrayed to the Germans and was put to death, taking the place of a young girl scheduled to die in the gas chambers. Her martyrdom took place in the last days of the war in Ravensbruck concentration camp; On January 18, 2004, the Holy Synod of the Ecumenical Patriarchate in Istanbul recognized Mother Maria Skobtsova as a saint along with her son Yuri, the priest who worked closely with her, Fr. Dimitri Klépinin, and her close friend and collaborator Ilya Fondaminsky. All four died in German concentration camps. On January 18, 2004, the Holy Synod of the Ecumenical Patriarchate in Istanbul recognized Mother Maria Skobtsova as a saint along with her son Yuri, the priest who worked closely with her, Fr. Dimitri Klépinin, and her close friend and collaborator Ilya Fondaminsky.]]>
Being in the Desert
[/caption] As a young boy, I remember my dad, who was a priest, always placed the Holy Cross on a tray of bright yellow daffodils. This sign of spring and the promise of the coming of Pascha seemed enough when I was that age. Now, I don’t know! I am much older; life is much more complex. Our consumer society offers so many distractions and alternatives. In every Orthodox parish there is the increased availability of services during this period, but there is also all those other things that sidetrack us. It is so easy to say not tonight, not this morning, next time. So what should we do? I know you’re probably thinking … Here it comes – the scolding and the guilt trip. Actually no – because this year I am more at fault than most of you! Well, again, what do we do? I really don’t know. Last night, when I was trying to think how to structure this entry something came to me. Maybe, what I need is to quiet the clamor. The word that came to mind, which reminded me of St. Gregory Palamas, is hesychia, silence or quiet. This might be the time to sit down, shut the world out and let God speak to me and tell me how to fight the slump. What a novel idea listen, don’t think – don’t talk – just listen. As you probably guessed, the concept of not thinking and being quiet is difficult for me. I’ll let you know if it helps.]]>