Most Ancient of All Mysteries: the Great Omophor

One thing I came to love about Orthodox church life very early on in my journey into it is the way in which elements of liturgical life actually mean something. By this, I mean that they are not simply interesting things we do, whose symbolism is an optional extra for people who like That Sort Of Thing™, and which must be explained to them because it is so far removed from their everyday church life, but rather that they are a normal part of the life of the Church.

This is something that I never really experienced in my Anglo-Catholic upbringing. Yes, we did all of the stuff with all of the bells and whistles, and it was splendid, but it was never anything more than a local conceit. We were always well aware that there were those all around us with whom we were in communion and who saw what we did as something odd, peculiar, and a means by which to define us. Indeed, in many cases it was how we defined ourselves. Rather than the way we worshipped being simply the way we worshipped, it was a badge of distinction that we wore self-consciously. This was no fault of our own, to be sure, but simply the natural result of a situation in which what is right and proper is nothing more than a fringe belief, seen by the majority as something to be gauped at - whether enthusiastically, respectfully or disparagingly, the result is the same.

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Is Outrage!

Many will recognise the post title as the catchphrase of Fr Vasiliy Vasileivich Smith, a fictional character created by Reader Alexis Riggle of the Orthodox Church in America. Fr Vasiliy regularly featured as a priestly agony uncle in the Onion Dome, a spoof Orthodox news website that ran for some years until last year. Since then, the phrase seems to have made its way into regular church conversation, used by people with no idea of its provenance.

I am pleased to report that, while the website is now no more, some of the better excerpts from it, including almost all of the contributions from Fr Vasiliy, have been published in a book that is now readily available for purchase from Lulu.com. Having long been a fan of the Onion Dome, I can assure you that it will be well worth it. Here is a site created to give a little more information. Please do buy a copy for yourself or a friend. If you really like it, why not add Fr Vasiliy as a friend on the Book of Faces?

The Worship of God: a Commercial Enterprise?

There are those who may be offended by what follows. I fear that this is simply a hazard of saying what I believe to be right and true. Therefore, if you see your own custom criticised here and feel your back arch a little, I would ask you to take a step back from the initial reaction and ask yourself why you feel that way, and whether there might be something about your practice that could be reassessed.

Some of you have known me for a long time, whether as a personal friend of from my participation in a particular online Christian discussion forum, which has a real-life social element through which some of you have met me. Many of you will know that, in my Anglican days, I was a great fan of what is commonly called the English Use. This was the particular liturgical style that sought to restore Catholic elements to the worship of the Church of England, not by simply copying what modern or "traditional" Rome was doing but rather by restoring customs, music, and practices that had been part of the Catholic (and previously, Orthodox) tradition in Britain prior to the reformation, largely in the Use of Sarum and others similar to it. Among the benefits of these customs, were that, being part of the liturgical heritage of these isles, they were often found to be more palatable to the average Anglican than some of the more exotic continental customs which had come to be associated with Anglo-Papalism and other ecclesiologies that many found difficult, and had often continued in one form or another even during the most protestant phases of the Church of England. Also, they were free from associations with some of the sentimental devotional excesses of post-Counter-Reformation Roman Catholicism. Many of these early customs, of course, are once again to be found in the Orthodox Church in our Western Rite missions.

One of the most prominent proponents of the English Use was the Rev'd Dr Percy Dearmer, a rather eccentric Anglican clergyman in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, perhaps best known for his contribution to the production of The English Hymnal, (and authorship of some of its contents), and, even more so, The Parson's Handbook, which is just what the title suggests: a practical guide to the decent and orderly worship of God for ministers and those involved in the running of parishes. In it, he is highly opinionated and wonderfully forthright in the most amusing of ways, and demonstrates before his readers his own unique and refreshing brand of tact. Even those who disagree with his points, (and it is difficult to see how any right-thinking person could), must admit that his written style makes him an incredibly attractive author. I often wish he were alive today because I would love to read his blog, which I imagine would have a myriad of followers and receive regular comments, (unlike my own humble offering cough, hint, cough). In fact, my friends and I used to jest that, occasionally, it might be edifying to the people were we to occasionally forgo the Sunday Epistle and simply read an excerpt from The Parson's Handbook.

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It's a spork!

I grew up with the Story Teller series. It was a staple of my childhood and I still have fond memories of nonsense poems, Aldo in Arcadia, and various well and lesser-known stories. This series has become something of a classic, with a magnificent cast and imaginative tales. I wish they would re-issue them. Among the nonsense poems was Edward Lear's The Owl and the Pussycat, which includes the couplet:

They dined on mince and slices of quince,
which they ate with a runcible spoon...

For years I wondered what a runcible spoon was. I must stress that it was never an intensely pressing matter that caused lack of sleep, digestive problems, or anything quite like that. In fact, so insignificant a matter was it that for two decades I didn't think to look it up, but I simply had my curiosity piqued whenever I heard the poem, (which was, of course, during my daily viewing of Anne of Green Gables, in which the poem featured in a performance at the White Sands Hotel). 'Just what is a runcible spoon?' I would wonder. 'What does runcible mean?' 'Is it a spoon that is able to be runced, following the same logic as a flexible rule(r), which is a rule that can be flexed? If so, what is it to runce?' I never found any answers.

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Mitre-Lights

Something is puzzling me. There seems to be a new trend in hierarchical vesture simmering in the Russian Orthodox Church. From there, who knows where it will spread? Perhaps it is to do with the bishop's role of rightly diving the word of truth, and bringing the light of the Gospel to the people, but it seems that the new thing is for bishops to wear mitres that have a chandelier affixed to the top, like a sort of ecclesiastical helmet-lamp.

I have encountered photographs of two bishops wearing such mitres within the last week alone. The first was on the recent visit of Metropolitan Hilarion of Volokolamsk to Serbia.


At first, I thought that this was just a fluke and that the good bishop had done it as a teaching aid or some such thing. Having consoled myself with the thought that this was simply a one-off, I went about my usual business of looking at liturgical photographs and talking to the cat, when I stumbled upon this:


It would appear that, having seen and liked Metropolitan Hilarion's mitre, Archbishop Kyrill of San Francisco ran out and bought one just like it.

So are we likely to see more of this sort of thing? Where does it come from? And how are they powered? I have an image in my mind of a hamster running around in a wheel inside the mitre itself, which generates the electricty to power the bulbs, but I'm sure this can't be right, for they would never be allowed in the altar.

Has anybody else encountered these? If so, are you able to shed any light (cue: audible groan) on this for me?

Thank you so much in anticipation of your help.

The Curtain Falls

I sent my parish priest an e-mail a few weeks back, asking whether we could either have the veil at the Royal Doors put on a drawstring or I could be given £1,000,000. I made it quite clear that I was quite happy to settle for whichever was easier. Anyway, to my disappointment, he appeared at church one Saturday shortly afterwards with a corded curtain rail which, he explained with great delight, he had procured from B&Q for some ridiculously tiny sum of money - think single figures.

Having reconciled myself over the course of the afternoon to not having just become a millionaire, I found some pleasure in the new rail, until it became apparent that the hooks didn't move properly along the track because the tension in the cord of this costly masterwork of engineering wasn't quite right. Not only that, but the whole apparatus came crashing down in the middle of Vespers, causing the aposticha to come grinding to a halt while the two of us on the kliros looked up in bemusement. It is my parish priest's frugality that has seen our parish survive difficult times so we have much for which to be grateful. However, on this occasion, I was very pleased today to stay in awaiting the arrival of a rather smart corded curtain rail from John Lewis. Having removed the unnecessary parts, (the designers assume that one will be suspending two curtains that meet in the middle, which is, of course, not my intention), and having worked out how it all fits together, I shall make my first attempt at ecclesiastical DIY during the course of this coming week.

Watch this space.

In the meanwhile, I leave you with this song, the opening lines of which seem particularly pertinent:

Anne of Green Gables

'What's your name?'

The child hesitated for a moment.

'Will you please call me Cordelia?' she said eagerly.

'Call you Cordelia? Is that your name?'

'No-o-o, it's not exactly my name, but I would love to be called Cordelia. It's such a perfectly elegant name.'

'I don't know what on earth you mean. If Cordelia isn't your name, what is?'

'Anne Shirley,' reluctantly faltered forth the owner of that name, 'but, oh, please do call me Cordelia. It can't matter much to you what you call me if I'm only going to be here a little while, can it? And Anne is such an unromantic name.'

'Unromantic fiddlesticks!' said the unsympathetic Marilla. 'Anne is a real good plain sensible name. You've no need to be ashamed of it.'

'Oh, I'm not ashamed of it,' explained Anne, 'only I like Cordelia better. I've always imagined that my name was Cordelia - at least, I always have of late years. When I was young I used to imagine it was Geraldine, but I like Cordelia better now. But if you call me Anne please call me Anne spelled with an E.'

'What difference does it make how it's spelled?' asked Marilla with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot.

'Oh, it makes such a difference. It looks so much nicer. When you hear a name pronounced can't you always see it in your mind, just as if it was printed out? I can; and A-n-n looks dreadful, but A-n-n-e looks so much more distinguished. If you'll only call me Anne spelled with an E I shall try to reconcile myself to not being called Cordelia.'

In our house, we have been watching the Anne of Green Gables trilogy over the past couple of days. We hope to watch the third instalment tomorrow. I am a little reluctant about tomorrow's film. I grew up with the first two and have thoroughly enjoyed the wonderful romantic humour of them, not to mention the memories that they have brought back to me. I remember falling in love with Anne's character as a child and really enjoying The Road to Avonlea. However, I have never seen the third film and understand that it deviates considerably from Lucy Maud Montgomery's original series of books.

Has anybody any thoughts about it?

In searching for a photograph for this post, I encountered this. As an Anne lover, I am skeptical of this. I would love to see it and enjoy it but I'm also worried that this sort of meddling may spoil the story for me. Is anybody who has seen it able to offer any insights? I would be very grateful.

Thank you so much.

Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open drawer, empty shoe, anybody's lap will do.
Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.
Anywhere! They don't care! Cats sleep anywhere.

- Eleanor Farjeon

This is an old photograph of the Lady Perpetua. I was changing the beddings in the guest bedroom. Somewhere between my removal of the old duvet cover and my return with a fresh one, she had claimed the duvet as her own. I didn't have the heart to move her on.

Post-It Love

I was just having a clear-out of my Firefox bookmarks that I no longer need, and came across this smile-evoking video that I found a few months back. I'm something of a Lee Ingleby fan anyway, (he's a fairly local boy, you see), but I think the video is really quite sweet, and I'm sure many of us can relate to the situation of office stationery being put to alternative uses. Here it is:

A Little Something to Lighten the Season

From Pithless Thoughts:

The Hokey Cokey - TARDIS style

Metropolitan Kallistos of Diokleia

The Burning Bush

A friend recently showed me this photograph. I had thought that he might blog about it so didn't do so myself in order not to steal his thunder. However, as no post has been forthcoming, I felt that the masses should not be deprived of the amusement that it brought me.

For those who do not recognise it, it depicts the Burning Bush at the Holy Transfiguration Monastery from the Church of Sinai. Mounted onto the wall is what appears to be a fire extinguisher. Make of it what you will. :-)

Kamilavka tip to Robert.

Snow had fallen, Snow on Snow

The recent bad weather has caused problems for many people, myself included. I visited a friend for his birthday last week and found myself waiting for a bus in the city centre for an hour, while it snowed. When one did eventually arrive, and everybody at the bus stop, (who, by this point, had got to know each other quite well, having moved beyond frustration to laughter), piled onto it, it only went so far along the journey, leaving us to walk the rest of the way home in the wind and snow. On the way home from the Liturgy on Sunday, I got to the bus stop to be confronted with a sign saying that all bus services to my area had been withdrawn until further notice. I know that others have suffered much worse.

In light of this, I thought I would capture and share some of the happier effects of the snow. Here are some photographs I took yesterday, although we have had some more snow since then and it is snowing as I type.


Our garden


And again


Catprints in the snow. I'm sorry I didn't manage to get a photograph of her actually playing in the snow. It's so deep that her legs completely disappear. It's the strangest sight.


The Amazing Adventures of Perpetua, the Intrepid Snowtiger








I made a snowbishop. I haven't named him yet and a quick gance out of the window reveals that his nose has now fallen off, (I hear that this is a common problem among hierarchs during the winter months). It was pointed out to me that I have forgotten to give him a staff but I don't want to give the neighbours further cause for concern.

Ecumenical Conference at Nashotah House

Photo courtesy of Smilodon Photo, LLC

This comes from the set of photographs of the recent event that has been reported in the Anglican and Orthodox blogospheres. I wonder what was being said at the moment captured in this one.

Shall I Continue?

Once ago, people used to read my blog and comment, and I was part of a small but friendly network of bloggers. Now, I get the odd comment from faithful followers but it isn't what it once was. It may well be that I have readers who just don't post, or it may be that I should never have resuscitated my blog and that it serves little purpose.

If you do read Synaxis and feel that my posting occasional thoughts and things that interest me may be worthwhile, please leave a comment on this post to let me know.

Thank you.

How to Make Michael Feel Appreciated

Thanks to Elizabeth over at The Garden Window for this rather fun quiz. I must admit it wasn't the result for which I'd hoped. ;-)

Your results:
You are An Expendable Character (Redshirt)

An Expendable Character (Redshirt) 85% Uhura 75% Spock 55% Chekov 55% Data 54% Jean-Luc Picard 50% Mr. Scott 45% Geordi LaForge 40% James T. Kirk (Captain) 35% Leonard McCoy (Bones) 35% Deanna Troi 35% Worf 30% Beverly Crusher 25% Will Riker 15% Mr. Sulu 10%

Since your accomplishments are seldom noticed, and you are rarely thought of, you are expendable. That doesn't mean your job isn't important but if you were in Star Trek you would be killed off in the first episode you appeared in.

Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Quiz

Because Cats are better than Dogs

The Green Bottle family vs Mr Wall

Mr Wall has been charged with knowingly and wilfully inflicting grievous bodily harm on all ten members of the Green Bottle family (pictured above, after major reconstructive surgery).

A number of incidents had been reported in the vicinity of Mr Wall's residence, but suspicion only really began to be aroused when neighbours heard local children singing a song about the incidents, and began to wonder what the actual chances were of all ten bottles accidentally falling off the wall.

In an official police statement, it was revealed that this is not the first time that Mr Wall has been investigated for such offences. Some years ago, there was a major incident in which the Armed Forces got involved, as the situation got quite out of hand. The victim of the earlier attack is the key prosecution witness, and any conviction rests on his testimony. In an interview with Sarisburium News, Mr Humpty Dumpty, who was clearly still very traumatised by his ordeal, could only bring himself to say, 'I hope justice is done here. Life has been very difficult for me over the past few years', before he fell to pieces.

The case for the defence is based on diminished responsibility, as the injuries incurred by the Green Bottle family were the responsibility of the person or persons who placed them on Mr Wall in the first place. The main thrust of the argument is that this was a silly place to put ten green bottles, and was an invasion of Mr Wall's personal space. 'I could just about cope with the two little dickie birds coming and going all day long', said Mr wall, in an exclusive interview, 'but when they started with those bottles, well, what could I do? It all got a bit much.' The defence is expected to argue that, after the first few bottles had fallen, the sensible and responsible thing to do would have been to move the rest of them to a safer environment. Instead, the party responsible for their wellbeing (whom, Sarisburium News understands, considers himself to be something of a poet), used the time to compose a song about the events to teach local children.

The sole defence witness is a character witness, Mr Wall's former work colleague, Mirror Mirror, who is known for her veracity. She is expected to testify to Mr Wall's upright and supportive nature.

Please stay tuned for reports on the progress of the case as events unfold.

Flowery Language

Is there a concise way to say something? Can extra adjectives be deleted? Can the briskest, most pointed prose be boiled down one more time to a more refined level? Then it's not Orthodox worship. If there's a longer way to say something, the Orthodox will find it. In Orthodox worship, more is always more, in every area including prayer. When the priest or deacon intones, "Let us complete our prayer to the Lord," expect to still be standing there fifteen minutes later.

This made me chuckle. It also hit home because that is exactly what I am like. God has given us the richness and beauty of language. It is only right that we use it in our praise of him and as part of the sanctification of our everyday lives. I am firmly opposed to the dumbing down mentality that brought us the BBC report about Pope John Paul II, as he lay in state, wearing 'crimson robes and his white pope's hat'.

I love flowery language, especially when it is used effectively to carry its meaning in a beautiful way. Language is an art, not merely a form of communication. I am glad that I am moving towards a church that embraces this.