The Mass according to St Germanus of Paris: first apology

A friend of mine - a fellow lover of all things liturgical - asked me some months ago to share my thoughts once I had finally experienced the Divine Liturgy of St Germanus.  That experience eventually came three days ago, on Palm Sunday, at the monastery of St Michael and St Martin near Luzé, France.

I had been curious about this Liturgy for years, fascinated by the communities that used it and by the music composed for it, some of which I managed to acquire in recorded and sheet form, in French and English.  So I was very excited at the prospect of taking part in it.  Then the Liturgy began and the curious excitement simply disappeared as my heart took over from my head and I realised that I was at the Divine Liturgy, as I had been hundreds of times previously, and that a fascinated curiosity was not how I usually faced that situation.  It just felt like an Orthodox service, which of course, it is.

I must say that prayerful contemplation did not always replace the curiosity, as I had offered my services to the singers, and so found myself sight-reading music, much of which I had not seen before, while trying to read and correctly pronounce the French words.  Doing this for a full Mass was very exhausting but rewarding.

Still, a few things stood out as markedly different from the Byzantine liturgies in a way that they did not from merely reading the text and rubrics:

Clear meaning

The Byzantine liturgies to which I have been accustomed for over a decade have been in continuous use for about 1700 years and have developed significantly in that time.  As such, they have a great many elements that are accretions, and others that are obsolete remnants of a time when things were done very differently, obscuring the true meaning of various parts of the service.  The fact that the Mass of St Germanus is a modern reconstruction of an ancient rite invites much criticism but it does mean that it is largely free of these things, and the cumulative effect of these little differences makes for a Mass that is refreshingly clear in expressing the faith that it actualises.

1. The entrance of the clergy is genuinely the point where the clergy enter the sanctuary.  The entrance prayers and ceremonies in this context make so very much more sense in this context than they do when the clergy start the service already at the altar, only to go on a little perambulation out of one door and back in through another, as an homage to an entrance procession that has not existed for centuries.  I think that the revised Byzantine liturgies of New Skete contain a worthy attempt to correct this, but they are used hardly anywhere.

2. The dismissal of the catechumens has featured in some recensions of this neo-Gallican Liturgy so I was curious to notice that it was absent on Sunday.  I have since been unable to find it in the books used here at the monastery.  Whether this is because there were no catechumens to dismiss or because there is no longer any expectation for catechumens to leave, I do not know.  I do know that, either way, it avoids the oddity of giving instructions ("Catechumens, bow your heads", "Depart, catechumens") to people who at best are not present and at worst do not even exist.  I know that some Byzantine Rite parishes omit these elements when there are no catechumens present but this is generally not the case in my experience in the Russian Church.

3. The deacon performs his proper role of the Preparation of the Gifts and the transfer of them to the sanctuary.  Why and when the priest started to do this in Byzantine custom is something that I have never been able to find out.

4. The kiss of peace is something that really does happen among the faithful and is not reserved to the clergy alone.  The celebrant kisses the Altar, and then the deacons, who bring the kiss of peace to the faithful while they sing the responsory "Peace I leave with you".  Seeing it done, and seeming so natural and reverent, was very beautiful indeed.  It shows that the exchange of the peace needn't be the excuse for a good old chat that it often became in the Anglican and Catholic churches of my childhood and teenage years.

Many Orthodox Christians of Byzantine tradition do not even realise that their Divine Liturgy contains such a thing as the kiss of peace, and will tell you that this is an exclusively Catholic/Protestant thing to do.  In fact, I don't think that it was ever formally removed from the Liturgy as much as the practice simply fell into disuse.   At this time of year in particular, the ancient practice of omitting the kiss of peace on Maundy Thursday (given the very different significance that the gesture of kissing has on that day) becomes a very poignant marker of the Passion of the Lord in a way that it cannot if the Peace is never given at all.

The audible Anaphora

For good or for ill, the anaphora is chanted aloud, and the epiklesis is spoken audibly.  I know that the historical and spiritual merits of one practice over another have been the subject of Orthodox debate for years, and I do not intend to reproduce any of that here.  However, it is worth noting that, unlike the fixed Byzantine anaphoras the neo-Gallican (as indeed the ancient Gallican) anaphora is mostly variable according to the feast or season, and so has great catechetical benefit that would be lost if prayed quietly.  I mainly want to say that I was deafened by the silent reverence at the epiklesis in particular.  The sense of "God is here" really was astounding.

Communion

At Communion, the Body of the Saviour was placed in the communicants' hands, and the people drank directly from the chalice, as in ancient times.  When I was a catechumen, back in 2005, I was told to read the lectures of St Cyril of Jerusalem On the Christian Sacraments, where he describes just such a practice.  Those hands and lips have been sanctified with the waters of Baptism and sealed with the Holy Chrism: with proper catechesis I see no reason why Communion should not be given in this way.

"Homely" Orthodoxy

Perhaps the most important thing that struck me about this rite was that it just felt "lived in".  Much of the discussion of the rite that takes place online is by people - critics or enthusiasts - who have no direct intimate experience of it.  I don't mean an occasional visit to a parish that uses the rite but actual sustained Orthodox prayer and sacramental life with the Divine Office and Mass of St Germanus at the heart of it.

Yet here is a monastic community that has known nothing but that for decades.  Those Russian nuns who can tell you without consulting any books what is to be sung to which tone on any given day, and who will know when you are singing a text that should be omitted in that particular week - those nuns have counterparts in the Western Rite, and I got to see that on Sunday.

So I think that, what stood out to me most of all is that, for this community, the Divine Office and the Mass of St Germanus are not a matter of academic scrutiny or curiosity, they are not a subject for debate about the appropriateness or otherwise of their use; rather they are the channel through which they worship God, and how they form their Orthodox prayer life.  It's a bit like apostolic succession: we know we have it so we don't spend too much time worrying about how we came by it.  It just is.

I know that we Orthodox love the ancientness of our services, and the rich heritage that comes with them, but the simple truth is that, for most of us, regardless of the rite we use, once we have become steeped in that cycle of prayers, hymns, and bodily acts of reverence, in one sense it doesn't matter so much whether they have been in continuous use for over 1000 years, reconstructed from ancient manuscripts and blessed for use a half century ago, or composed by the bishop last year.  As long as the services are true expressions of our Faith and they "pray" in an Orthodox way we seem able - and very happy - to make them our own and incorporate them as part of our spiritual life.

Perhaps that is the Orthodox way.

What's in a name?

A number of people - particularly those who know me as Michael - have expressed curiosity over my adoption of the name Cyprian.

It really isn't the exciting story that you might hope it to be but, well... here it is.

When I was new to Orthodoxy, I interacted with many Orthodox Christians online to learn as much as I could and to become familiar with Orthodox faith, practice, and culture.  I understood from these interactions that I would take a saint's name at some point, and it was explained to me that, as part of my catechumenate, my priest would ask me which saint I would like as my patron.

So, I was made a catechumen (in the Byzantine calendar, on the feast of the miracle of St Michael at Colossae), and given the name Michael.  Some months passed, and I wasn't asked, so I made the enquiry about taking a new name, only for my priest to explain that I had already been made a catechumen with the name of Michael.

It turns out that the advice I had been given online reflected only one practice, and that there is another, which is based on the understanding that, if you already have a saint's name, that saint has led and guided you to the point of knocking on the Church's door, seeking entry, and ought not to be abandoned.

I asked about changing my name when I was ordained a reader and then again a subdeacon, but was told that this is not the custom of the Russian church.  So I was stuck with Michael.

Yet it was questions of ecclesiology that had caused me to begin exploring Orthodoxy in the first place, and it was in the writings of St Cyprian of Carthage that I had found clarity and answers.  While they may not be the answers I would entirely subscribe to today, they were pivotal on my journey into Orthodoxy, and I value his writings immensely.

Also, in the life of St Cyprian, I saw myself - both as what I was and also what I hoped I might be.

After the Roman persecution of Christians under the emperor Decius, St Cyprian was very hard on those who had fallen, and who had offered sacrifice to the emperor, and even on those who had not done so but who had signed false documents claiming to have done so to preserve their safety.  As a bishop, and a nobleman of means, he was able to go into hiding, so was really quite unfair to those who did not have the resources and privileges that he had had.

In this, I saw something of myself - quick to point out what is right and proper, and not always stopping to take account of the human cost of doing the right thing and the real difficulties that this might pose for some people.

Yet, in the later persecution under the emperor Valerian, St Cyprian did not go into hiding but stayed with his people as their pastor, and so he was arrested and martyred, boldly confessing the Faith of Christ even to the point of death.

Is this something that I would do?  I would like to say yes but the reality is that I cannot know that until faced with the situation myself.  However, I know that I have a holy advocate and example in the person of St Cyprian of Carthage.

Therefore, shortly after my reception into the Orthodox Church of the Gauls, I asked my bishop's blessing finally to take the name of Cyprian, which he graciously granted.  Now I have him as my patron saint, interceding for me before the throne of God.

We honour you, O Cyprian, as a true shepherd who with your sacred words and divinely-wise doctrines have shown us the boundary-stones marking out the one Church of Christ.  Even to death you bore witness with courage; wherefore, we extol you as a bishop and martyr. Entreat Christ that we all may be saved.

Kontakion, tone 2 

Ash Wednesday

'When you fast, do not be like the hypocrites, with a sad countenance. For they disfigure their faces that they may appear to men to be fasting. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward. But you, when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you do not appear to men to be fasting, but to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly. Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.'

- Matthew 6:16-21

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday: and the first day of Lent. Many Christians, Orthodox and non-Orthdox alike, will be familiar with the ceremony of the imposition of ashes which has become customary on that day. This comes to us directly from the custom of the dismissal, in former times, of those who were excommunicate for one reason or another, and were serving a time of penitence before being received back into the full communion of the Church. Eventually, it became customary to impose the ashes on the heads of all who presented themselves.

Indirectly, this custom comes to us from Scripture, where numerous times in the Old Testament, we see reference to dust and ashes thrown upon the head as a sign of mourning, penitence, and a reminder of human mortality. (Job 2:12; Joshua 7:6; Lamentations 2:10; Ezekiel 27:30, among others).

Yet the Saviour warns us in quite clear terms not to disfigure our faces in order for our piety to be seen by others. This certainly ought to make us at least think about the widespread custom of being seen with a dark smudge or Cross on our faces, and how wee see this in light of this Gospel, particular in places where the ash is mixed with oil for the specific purposes of giving it a darker, more noticeable hue, and causing it to stay in place for longer.

Yet surely it cannot be that this has never occurred to anybody before.  Surely others have heard the excerpts from St Matthew's Gospel and wondered how to interpret them in light of the liturgical practice that they have always known of priests deliberately placing a visible and sometimes lasting mark on the faces of the people.

It is curious that all of those Old Testament references make mention of the dust and ash being specifically thrown upon the head. There is no mention of making a mark on the face.

Similarly, the rubrics of the service books make no mention of making a visible facial mark in ash but state simply that the ash shall be placed on the head.   The relevant rubric in the Sarum Missal simply says:

Afterwards the ashes shall be distributed on the heads of the clergy and laity by the higher dignitaries, making the sign of the Cross with the ashes...

The precise manner of how the ashes are to be distributed is not specified and it seems perfectly possible to me that this is the case because it was simply assumed that clergy would know how to do it.

Here is a missal woodcut that depicts the same thing, (sadly I do not know its provenance):



It was only a few years ago that I learnt that it is mainly in our anglophone world that the Cross on the face is as widespread as it is, and that in the Latin church, in many European countries, the custom is for the dry ashes to be sprinkled over the inclined head of the penitent in the form of a Cross, which is then barely, if at all, noticeable to anybody.  Could it be that this is the more ancient custom, and what is intended by the rubrics?

Below we see the sprinkling form of the imposition of ashes employed in the cases of two recent popes.














What is important is the action of the imposition of the ashes and its significance to the penitent: a sorrow for sins and the attitude and mindset that pledges repentance and amendment of life; a conversion of heart.  There is no need for a lasting mark on the face intended to be seen by the world.  Let our lasting mark be the visible fruit that we bear and that others see in our lives.

'Do you fast? Give me proof of it by your works. If you see a poor man, take pity on him. If you see a friend being honoured, do not envy him. Do not let only your mouth fast, but also the eye, and the ear, and the feet, and the hands, and all the members of our bodies. Let the hands fast, by being free of avarice. Let the feet fast, by ceasing to run after sin. Let the eyes fast, by disciplining them not to glare at that which is sinful... Let the ear fast... by not listening to evil talk and gossip... Let the mouth fast from the foul words and unjust criticism. For what good is it if we abstain from birds and fishes, but bite and devour our brothers?'

-St John Chrysostom, "The Proof of Fasting"

On the one occasion that I experienced Ash Wednesday liturgically in an Orthodox context (in ROCOR), the ashes were imposed using the visible-Cross-on-forehead method.  However, I must say that  am inclined to prefer what seems to be the more ancient custom, and I would ask our clergy to consider whether it might be worth adopting this practice. 

At a time when we can encounter such things as street corner and drive-thru ashings, and when it is difficult to look at our Facebook feeds at the start of Lent without seeing increasing numbers of Ash-Wednesday "smudge" selfies, perhaps the focus in how this day is presented to the people of God ought to be less on the physical mark and more prevalently on internalising within our hearts the meaning of the Lenten fast, allowing our passions to be subdued, and our hearts imbued with the grace of God, so that they may spring forth in genuine love for ourselves and our neighbours, for the sake of our salvation.

Is it a fast that I have chosen, a day for a man to afflict his soul? Is it to bow down his head like a bulrush, and to spread out sackcloth and ashes? Would you call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the LORD? Is this not the fast that I have chosen: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; when you see the naked, that you cover him, and not hide yourself from your own flesh? Then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry, and He will say, ‘Here I am.’

-Isaiah 58:5-9

The All-Night Vigil

Be very diligent in coming here early in the morning to bring prayers and praises to the God of all, and to give thanks for the benefits already received... and so pass the time of day as one obliged to return here in the evening to give the master an account of the entire day and to ask pardon for failures... Then we must pass the time of the night in sobriety and thus be ready to present ourselves again at the morning praise.

- St John Chrysostom

Until recently, I used to dread the All-Night Vigil.  This may seem a strange thing for a Christian to say.  In fact, it was last year during Lent that I was serving for my bishop in the cathedral one Saturday, and had been in church all day.  There had been the Divine Liturgy in the morning, a brief repast, then the service of the Great Anointing.  Having started at 9 a.m. and it now being 5 p.m. and mindful of being back the following morning, I made my apologies and made good my escape.  My bishop asked me, 'Are you a Christian?'  I understand his question - indeed how better for a Christian to spend his Saturday night than in prayerful greeting of the Resurrection of the Lord? Yet, I think that people who are very well accustomed to things sometimes just don't realise what it can be like for people who do not know them and find them a trial when presented in a completely inaccessible form.

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New Converts, Beware!

I begin to compose this post with a few disparate ideas floating around in my mind. Perhaps by the end they will have bounced off each other and arranged themselves into some sort of coherent structure.

As I have said in the past, before I first made contact with an Orthodox priest and began worshipping at an Orthodox parish, I learnt much about Orthodoxy through books and the internet. For all of the good such learning brings, the method can have its disadvantages, one of which, in my case at least, was that when I arose from the font a new creature I did so with all sorts of ideas of what the Church ought to be, how She ought to look and conduct Herself, how She could do things better.

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Paraliturgies

I love the litugical cycle of the Church's days, weeks, months, and years.  I think that having a fixed liturgical calendar in some way reconciles our life and existence in fallen time to the saving work of Christ, and bring us into the eternal Eighth Day of the New Creation.  Largely for that reason, many of my posts reflect my love for this cycle of prayer and worship.

However, that does not mean that I do not find great value in those prayers and devotions that do not fit into this established pattern of the hallowing of time. There are many of them - some of them beautiful, some not so beautiful - but they all flow from people's hearts and stem from a desire to be drawn closer into communion with God and each other.

Two of my favourite paraliturgical services are Molebens and Cross-Processions.  My absolute favourite is the Processional Moleben, which combines the two, and is highly festive in character.  A Moleben is simply a service of prayer and supplication, and may be offered for any of a number of intentions but my favourite form is the General Moleben, contructed from excerpts from Matins, with propers inserted according to a particular celebration, whether it be the parish's patronal feast, a pilgrimage to a holy site, a visitation of holy relics or an icon, or whatever else.

I think that the primary reason that I love this so is that it that it is fairly simple ceremonially.  That may seem like a strange thing for me to write but I do mean it. It means that I can immerse myself in the prayer without having to think about what comes next, how to communicate that to others who need to know, and so forth.  It also means that, on festive occasions when there are visitors from elsewhere, there is no confusion because some are accustomed to Greek-style, some Russian-style, and others none at all.  It just sort of happens and we get on with the business of praying.  The second reason is that it comes with a very pertinent dose of Scripture, usually highlighting things about whatever is being celebrated.  There is usually at least one psalm, often an Epistle, and almost always a Gospel (which is boldly proclaimed outdoors if there is a procession, in which case there may even be as many as four Gospels).  The third is that, it being a prayer service rather than something strictly liturgical, the clergy stand among the laity rather than ministering in the altar, and the practical participation is much more on the vocal offering, which brings everybody together in a different way from more liturgical offerings, where we each have our distinctive roles that come together into one act of service to God.  In addition to the litany responses, there is the "God is the Lord" responsory, which the people belt out, before going immediately into the troparion of the celebration, which can itself be repeated over and over again if there is a procession.

This is important.  I do not think that there is a western equivalent to the troparion, which is a short, thematic hymn unique to each saint or feast, and which becomes something of a battle hymn of the people during services on that day.  Everybody will know the troparion of his parish's patron saint because it will be sung at nearly every Divine Liturgy in the parish, and the troparia of certain feasts easily roll off the tongue after having been Orthodox for a couple of years.  Stand in the middle of a gathering of Orthodox people and sing the line "O Lord, save thy people" or "When Thou wast baptised in the Jordan, O Lord" to tone 1 and you'll see what I mean.

When the procession is included, and there is a station made at each of the four sides of the church, where the people are blessed with the Cross, the festal icon, and holy water, while imploring God's mercy with joyful hope. 

I love it.

The Lenten Prayer of St Ephraim the Syrian

O Lord and Master of my life, drive away from me the spirit of despondency, negligence, avarice and idle talk. But grant me, thy servant, the spirit of chastity, humility, patience and love. Yea, O Lord and King, grant me to see mine own transgressions, and not to judge my brother, for blessed art Thou unto the ages. Amen.

A Milestone

Thou art baptised, thou art illumined, thou hast been anointed with the Holy Chrism, thou art sanctified, thou art washed: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

-from the rite of Chrismation

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my entry into Christ's Church. On the 6th of February, 2006, being the 19th of February by the civil calendar, I received the double Sacrament of Baptism and Chrismation. This was to have been at Pascha of that year but, for particular reasons, was brought forward to the Sunday of the Prodigal Son, itself a very fitting time for being received as an adopted son of the Father.



This year, the Sunday of the Prodigal Son falls tomorrow, and in preparation I have been reading the homily of St Gregory Palamas on the Prodigal Son. He makes some very good points about the detail of this parable that I had never previously considered, and makes me realise just how much I have inherited as a child of God. When I, as a result of my baptism, am able to stand with my brothers and sisters and cross myself, and sing 'Our Father', I am claiming all that is promised to the children of God who are adopted through the grace of baptism. The kingdom of God, the riches of heaven, the promise of growth into the life of God: I find this astounding once again, and it is in the Liturgy that I find this in its fullness.

There are two points in this homily that touch me most. St Gregory points out that the father in the parable only divides his estate into two portions: one for each of his sons. Nothing does he hold back for himself, having no need of such and being filled with generous love for his sons. It is only we who are in need of the grace that emanates from God. The second is that the Son demands of the father what he has no right to even request. The inheritance that is alotted to him is given only because of the father's loving generosity and is his. It reminds me of how much of what is good is often taken for granted and how little I sometimes acknowledge the source of these things.

I was also pleased and not a little disturbed to find elements of St Gregory's homily that bear directly on my struggle of faith last year, as though he himself had endured the same thing. Of course, it is perfectly possible that he had.

In any case, five years have passed, I have been relieved of many romantic ideas and like to think that I have grown a little amidst the numerous failures, thanks to those who have looked after me and guided me. I look forward to seeing where the next five years take me.

Having foolishly abandoned thy paternal glory, I squandered on iniquities the riches which thou gavest me. Wherefore, I cry to Thee with the voice of the prodigal son, saying, 'I have sinned before Thee, O compassionate Father. Receive me as one repentant, and make me as one of thy hired servants.'

-Kondak from the Sunday of the Prodigal Son

Lord, I Have Cried

Lord, I have cried unto Thee, hearken unto me. Hearken unto me, O Lord. Lord, I have cried unto Thee, hearken unto me. Attend to the voice of my supplication when I cry unto Thee. Hearken unto me, O Lord! Let my prayer be set forth as incense before Thee, the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice. Hearken unto me, O Lord!

Above is a portion of the service of Vespers, slightly rearranged from Psalm 140. The Lord, I Have Cried is actually one of the most solemn portions of Vespers for me. Yes, we have the Come, let us worship and I love psalm 103 as the joyful start to the new day and the recalling of our creation but it is only truly at the Lord, I Have Cried, with its repetitious and faithful pleading, 'hearken unto me, O Lord' that my heart is truly called prayer, when I am moved to seek communion with God more fully.

Imagine, then, my pain, bewilderment, and complete sense of loss over the summer of last year, when these words became empty and meaningless in a way that they never had before, when I was going to church and God simply was not there - or so it seemed. It has been known among a small number of friends that I very nearly apostatised last year. I found it immenselly difficult to convince myself that there was even a God left to believe in. It was not something that could be argued logically with any of the arguments from a position of faith that are often presented in debates about the existence of God for this was not an academic rejection of God. It was simply a feeling that God was not there. That God is made perfect sense to my intellect but I could no longer bring myself to believe.

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My Conversion to Orthodoxy

Or rather, the beginning of my conversion to Orthodoxy, which I now realise is not necessarily always a forward journey.

Reading a friend's recent post on his blog, which I recommend to all with particular interest in traditional western liturgy, I very much empathised with his expression of his current frustration and sense of confusion and lack of sure direction. I was actually reminded of very similar feelings when I first began to experience discomfort in my former home. Patricius and I have very different starting points and shall quite possibly have very different ending points but it strikes me that he and Ex Fide, another friend who currently seems to feel unsettled with his former understanding of his current home, may find it beneficial to see that others have trodden similar paths before, whatever destination they eventually reach, (which may well be precisely where they are now, having found peace there once again).

Another thing that I realise is that most of you who read this blog now did not know me when I started it. It started life in early 2005 with the title Sarisburium: Full-Faith and Filioque-Free, (and was at the location now occupied by the Oremus blog of Hieromonk Aidan), reflective of my interest in the liturgical Use of Sarum and my journey into Orthodoxy. It was my first attempt at a blog, even before my Orthodox infancy, (embryonic Orthodoxy?), and was to serve as a place where I could share my thoughts as I explored Orthodoxy, and receive guidance and read the experiences of others. The blog has changed its title, appearance, location, and focus a number of times since then but most everything from those early days is still here and accessible from the archive section in the sidebar, and I am grateful to you all for your ongoing encouragement. Some of those who supported me in those early days are good friends today. Others have since left Orthodoxy and yet others have rejected Christianity altogether. Yet, they were all a part of my online support in those early days, and some of them were among those who asked for me to post a summary of my reasons for conversion to Orthodoxy in the first place.

Therefore, I take you all back in time to August, 2006, six months after my Baptism, when I wrote this:

Conversion

As I said, it was very much the beginning of a journey that has proved to be very surprising and often turbulent, but I think that it may be helpful to at least two of my friends who read my blog from time to time, and sharing it with you all gives you an opportunity to see where I have come from and me the opportunity to update my blog without actually having to be particularly imaginative this evening. :-) I promise that such recycling will not become habitual.

Finally, please pray for Patricius, Ex Fide, and all who are questioning and searching, and experiencing the unease of finding the stability that they had once known to be perhaps now less certain.

Just what is Liturgy?

'I've never really seen the point to historical liturgy.'

These words were spoken by a very good friend of mine a few days ago and they have repeated on my mind on and off since then as I have tried to understand and to be able to articulate why the phrasing didn't sit well with me. I hasten to point out that they were spoken in friendly tones as part of a discussion we were having about the different preferences for worship styles that we and another friend of ours have. It was simply an expression of his own feeling on the matter and not any sort of criticism of mine - I say that because this isn't very clear with the words quoted out of context.

My friend is Roman Catholic and describes his spirituality as charismatic. He has an appreciation for tradition but finds his home in freer, meditative styles of worship with modern music, and without what he might perceive as too much rigidity as far as rubrics and such like go. I think that is a fair assessment, although I ask his forgiveness and hope that he will correct me if it is not.

As readers and anybody who knows me will be aware, I am very much of the view that it is right and proper that our worship be in continuity with and a development of that of those before us, as an expression of the same faith held by those before us. The elements that we have inherited only have any meaning and purpose within the entire organic unit of which they are part, which is the liturgical whole that has come down to us. It occurs to me that this is why I was not happy with the reference to "historical" liturgy. To my understanding, this is not "historical liturgy", as though it were some sort of archaeological exercise, dredging up something that is outdated and from the past. They are living rites with a rich heritage and in use today.

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This is none other than the house of God...

...and this is the gate of heaven.

- Genesis 28:17b

I would like to share this modernised version of a little rhyme which, it seems, is found engraved on some of our ancient churches here in Britain:

This seems to embody the same sentiment as the three bows and their accompanying prayers that we make in the eastern tradition as we enter church, acknowledging the holiness of the place and our unworthiness to enter, and, of course, the prostrations that made by those of us who enter the altar for service. There are no prayers prescribed in the latter instance but I find comfort here in borrowing from the west, saying privately those verses:

I shall go in unto the altar of God, even unto the God Who giveth joy to my youth: I will praise Thee upon the harp, O God, my God.

- Psalm 42:4

Mitre-tip to Father Abbot David of the Holyrood Benedictine monastic house in Florida.

St Barsanuphius the Great

'Silence of lips is better and more wonderful than any edifying conversation. Strive to acquire humility and submissiveness. Never insist that anything should be according to your will, for this gives birth to anger. Do not judge or humiliate anyone, for this gives birth to anger. Do not judge or humiliate anyone, for this exhausts the heart and blinds the mind, and thereon leads to negligence and makes the heart unfeeling.'

- St Barsanuphius the Great

'Never confuse the person, formed in the image of God, with the evil that is in him: because evil is but a chance misfortune, an illness, a devilish attack. But the very essence of the person is the image of God, and this remains in him despite every disfigurement.'

- St John of Kronstadt

'When anyone is disturbed or saddened under the pretext of a good and soul-profiting matter, and is angered against his neighbour, it is evident that this is not according to God: for everything that is of God is peaceful and useful, and leads a man to humility and to judging himself.'

- St Barsanuphius the Great

'Do we forgive our neighbours their trespasses? God also forgives us in his mercy. Do we refuse to forgive? God, too, will refuse to forgive us. As we treat our neighbours, so also does God treat us. The forgiveness, then, of your sins or unforgiveness, and hence also your salvation or destruction, depend on you yourself. For without forgiveness of sins there is no salvation. You can see for yourself how terrible it is.'

- St Tikhon of Zadonsk

Somebody managed to upset me recently. The truth is that this doesn't take much doing at the best of times but I was particularly hard on this person, perhaps partly because of my own recent struggles with faith, which have resulted in a departure from where I ought to be, and from which I am only now slowly recovering. In any case, I was harsh and judgemental. The only saving grace is that I did not express this to the person himself but, knowing my propensity to over-react and then regret my actions later, I kept my mouth shut, which is just as well as I have since come to learn of the personal difficulties that lay behind his actions.

However, it was reading the quotations above that called me to recognise what I was doing, and how far removed this is from what I want my life to be. It was particularly the words of St Barsanuphius, (which have now been added to the selections from the Saints at the side of this blog), that spoke to my heart and I would very much like to read some more of him. Apart from this, which is on my wish list, does anybody know of any books containing his writings or information about him? I should be very grateful for any help you may be able to offer.

Thank you.

Otche Nash

This is really quite lovely, especially the end. Young children praying in harmony always make me cry.

Forward in Orthodox Faith

An American-based friend recently sent me a message, asking about efforts on the part of Orthodox churches in Britain to reach out to Forward in Faith. I very rudely failed to reply in a timely fashion so have decided to make a blog post out of it in the hope that this will go some way towards appeasing the wrath of my acquaintance. I just hope that I don't offend too many people by responding publicly.

The answer is that I know of very little that has been organised on any sort of large scale. There is the quiet evangelism among individuals, for which Orthodoxy is known, but there's nothing such as the OCA's outreach to ACNA. While Metropolitan Jonah's address to their conference was outstanding and inspiring, and no doubt ideal for that context, it was tailored for a situation that is so far removed from the reality of church life in Britain as to be largely an irrelevance to us.

The impression I have got over the years, both as an Anglo-Catholic and now as Orthodox who hears the views of Anglo-Catholics about Orthodoxy, is that English (the factors facing those in Scotland and elsewhere may be different) and North American Anglo-Catholics simply do not understand each other.

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The doors! The doors!

Having beheld the Resurrection of Christ, let us worship the holy Lord Jesus, the only sinless One. We worship thy Cross, O Christ, and praise and glorify thy holy Resurrection. For Thou art our God, and we know none other beside Thee, we call upon thy name. O come, all ye faithful, let us worship Christ’s holy Resurrection, for behold, through the Cross, joy hath come into all the world. Ever blessing the Lord, we praise his Resurrection, for He hath endured the Cross for us, and by death He hath destroyed our death.

Shine! Shine! O new Jerusalem, for the glory of the Lord is risen upon Thee; dance, now, and be glad, O Sion. Do Thou be radiant, O pure Mother of God, in the Resurrection of thy Son.

O how divine, how loving, how sweet is thy voice! For Thou hast truly promised to be with us unto the end of the age, O Christ; having this foundation of hope, we, the faithful, rejoice.

O great and most holy Pascha, Christ! O Wisdom and Word and Power of God! Grant us more fully to partake of Thee in the unwaning day of thy Kingdom.

Above are the Resurrection hymns said by the deacon at the Divine Liturgy after the communion of the people. I got to thinking about them after a conversation with a friend last evening who was asking about some parts of our Byzantine Liturgy. The doors open at communion as the Holy Things are presented to the people. They approach to receive and from that point forward, the doors remain wide open, symbolising the Kingdom, which is as fully open to them as is possible during our earthly sojourn.

My parish priest was trained to serve the Liturgy alone, without a deacon, without subdeacons, and without servers. In the missions in Britain, this sort of training is very sensible, in my opinion. I have seen clergy who are accustomed to all of the bells and whistles of a fully-staffed parish

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The Holy Martyrs Timothy and Maura

In preparing the Synaxarion readings for today, I was particularly moved and inspired by this so thought I would share:

On this day, the 3rd of May, Holy Church commemorates the Martyrs Timothy and Maura. The father of Timothy was the village priest in a settlement near Antinoe in the Thebaid and brought up his son in Christian piety.

Timothy, from his first years as a youth, served during his father's term in the rank of reader and the keeper of liturgical books. St Timothy read sacred books daily at home. But he read them with special inspiration in church assemblies on Saturdays and Sundays. For his distinct, intelligent, and reverent reading during the divine services St Timothy was respected by Christians. Another obligation of his rank as reader, Timothy considered the writing of sacred books. For Timothy, the writing of sacred books was not only an obligation but also was a hobby. He called the copied books his children, his expensive treasure that he also shared with the Christians of his church community.

Having married a 17 year old maiden, Maura, who came from a prosperous family, he found in her who also had a distinguished Christian education a friend for life, capable of empathising with his moods. She respected the calling of her husband and she empathised with him, inspiring him with what he read in the sacred books in the church. She also liked to read sacred books,

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Piety, Processions, and Puppetry

This post is really just a string of ideas rather than a planned construction of coherent thoughts and I claim no authority beyond being a servant of Christ's Church who often fails miserably at his calling to be even that. Yet a conversation I recently had with a priest, shortly after witnessing the services of Holy Week and Pascha, got me to thinking a little about the liturgy of the Church and how, through it, we enter into the worship of God.

I love the multi-layered symbolism of the corporate worship of the Church. When we begin to explore it, there is so much that gives us the firm grounding from which to elevate our hearts to God. It is doctrine expressed and acted out, often in the most accessible way possible. Processions, prostrations, crossings, the opening and closing of the doors - some of these things speak to us immediately and have an obvious meaning. Yet some of them have depths of meaning that only come to us with time and being steeped in the Church's worship. For instance, at the old Paschal Vigil which we serve on Holy Saturday afternoon in the form of the Vesperal Liturgy of St Basil, we hear the reading from Isaiah, (the same one that provides the inspiration for the oft-repeated hymn, Shine, shine, O New Jerusalem), in which we hear:

And thy gates shall be open continually: they shall not be shut day nor night.

- Isaiah 60:11

So the doors of the iconostas remain open through Bright Week, and are not closed until the beginning of the Ninth Hour on Saturday of that week, for this is the week of thr renewal, when we celebrate most fully the conqeuring of all that separates us from the fullness of union with God.

However, I wonder at the nature of some of the things that have crept into Orthodox practice and the degree to which they are in keeping with the Tradition of the Church. One of the most powerful symbols of Great and Holy Friday is at Matins. After the fifth Gospel, which ends with Christ taking up his Cross and being assisted by Simon of Cyrene, during the fifteenth antiphon, the priest solemnly carries the large icon of the Saviour on the Cross from the altar and sets it in the midst of the church for the edificaton of the people. This becomes their focus as they hear the remaining Passion Gospels, which tell of the final events in the Passion of the Saviour, including his death. After the service, the people may come forward and venerate the icon, kissing the feet of their Saviour on the Cross.

Today is hung upon a Tree He Who suspended the earth upon the waters.
Today is hung upon a Tree He Who suspended the earth upon the waters.
Today is hung upon a Tree He Who suspended the earth upon the waters.
He who is King of the Angels is arrayed in a crown of thorns.
He who wrapped the heaven in clouds is wrapped in the purple of mockery,
He who freed Adam in the Jordan receiveth a blow on the face.
The Bridegroom of the Church is transfixed with nails.
The Son of the Virgin is pierced with a lance.
We worship thy Passion, O Christ,
We worship thy Passion, O Christ,
We worship thy Passion, O Christ: show unto us also thy glorious Resurrection!

- The fifteenth antiphon of Great Friday Matins

Yet a custom has developed in some places of setting up a plain Cross in the midst of the Church before the service begins, and the icon that is carried out at the fifteenth antiphon is of the corpus only. This often has holes pre-drilled in the hands and feet, through which nails are inserted, and the priest hammers the icon to the Cross during the service.

I have never seen this done in full so I cannot comment on it experientially. However, it seems to run contrary to everything that I have been taught about the place of icons in the doctrine and praxis of the Orthodox Church. Icons serve to focus the mind and heart on the holy one represented in the image.

For by so much more frequently as they are seen in artistic representation, by so much more readily are men lifted up to the memory of their prototypes, and to a longing after them; and to these should be given due salutation and honourable reverence (ἀσπασμὸν καὶ τιμητικὴν προσκύνησιν), not indeed that true worship of faith (λατρείαν) which pertains alone to the divine nature; but to these, as to the figure of the precious and life-giving Cross and to the Book of the Gospels and to the other holy objects, incense and lights may be offered according to ancient pious custom. For the honour which is paid to the image passes on to that which the image represents, and he who reveres the image reveres in it the subject represented. For thus the teaching of our holy Fathers, that is the tradition of the Catholic Church, which from one end of the earth to the other hath received the Gospel, is strengthened. Thus we follow Paul, who spake in Christ, and the whole divine Apostolic company and the holy Fathers, holding fast the traditions which we have received. So we sing prophetically the triumphal hymns of the Church, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Sion; Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem. Rejoice and be glad with all thy heart. The Lord hath taken away from thee the oppression of thine adversaries; thou art redeemed from the hand of thine enemies. The Lord is a King in the midst of thee; thou shalt not see evil any more, and peace be unto thee for ever."

- from the decree of the Seventh Ecumenical Council

With that in mind, the traditional practice of placing the icon of the crucified Saviour in the midst of the people and their later veneration of it seems very fitting. However, I, personally, struggle with the idea of an icon being used as, if I may be forgiven, a theatre prop. I'm just not sure that this action of nailing an image of the Saviour to the Cross is in keeping with the Orthodox theology of the icon and I am not sure it is something that should be encouraged. If the honour paid to the icon is passed to the holy person represented therein, what are we doing when we hammer nails into an icon of the Saviour? In the quiet piety of Orthodox Christians, an icon, if accidentally knocked over, is often picked up quickly and kissed before being returned to its place of honour, because people understand what the image represents, even if the Saint is largely unknown. Yet we are speaking here about pounding nails into an icon of the Christ.

Even if we leave aside the matter of the nailing, I do not like the concept of the detachable corpus being placed on the Cross, and then taken down during the Vespers service and wrapped in a shroud to be taken into the altar, (which is the second half of this late practice). For the same reasons as the nailing, it seems not to sit well with the concept of the icon as an object of focus and veneration. My priestly interlocutor said to me that the Orthodox understanding of the icon does not extend to puppetry. It may seem a shocking statement to make at first but, having given it some thought, I find myself unable to disagree.

The Church's services have a drama of their own, in their shape and structure, in the way one element flows into another, which then overlaps with the next, in the readings, in the hymns, in the actions of the clergy and people - all of these things carry beautiful meaning and symbolism, and speak of the mystery of salvation into which we are to enter more fully through these services. If we think, for example, of the traditional Great Friday ceremonies, they are actually very restrained while being very rich. When we focus on the Passion of the Saviour at Matins, the Cross is set up in the midst of the people and censed. Before Vespers, the Cross is quietly removed because the focus of this service is not the Passion but rather the burial of the Saviour. There is no theatrical taking down of the icon of the Saviour's body from the Cross and wrapping it in a burial shroud. Where the Cross once stood, we now see the sepulchre of the Lord, on which is placed the plashchanitsa, which is an icon showing the body of the Saviour, often surrounded by his Mother and the Holy Myrrh-Bearers. It is carried out solemnly, and offered for veneration by the people. Offerings of flora and rose water are laid on it in honour of the Christ depicted. Then, during the Midnight Office of the Paschal Vigil, the plashchanitsa is removed from the midst of the people with the same solemnity with which it was placed there, and when the people go outside for the procession after the Midnight Office, the sepulchre is quietly removed, so that when the people re-enter the church, it is simply not there, having been replaced by an icon of the Resurrection.

So it seems to me that the mystical drama into which we are to be caught up is inherent to the services themselves and is not to be found in extraneous re-enactments of Christ being crucified, taken down from the Cross, or wrapped in a shroud.

Another historical example of this is the procession of Palm Sunday. A very late development in parts of the west in Orthodox times, possibly originating in France, was the custom of including the Holy Things in the procession on Palm Sunday. This was different from the custom known among Roman Catholic people today, of carrying the sacrament in procession as a sign of devotion. As it came to develop in Britain by the late mediaeval period, an elaborate portable shrine was constructed, on which would be carried the Holy Things. As this approached, the choir would sing antiphons hailing the coming Christ, reminiscent of the Hebrews greeting the Saviour with shouts and hymns as He entered Jerusalem, which would continue through the procession. This was not simply a devotion to Christ in the Mystery of the Eucharist, (although the extra-eucharistic piety, including such processions, is perhaps intrinsically questionable anyway), but rather seems to have been a theatrical re-enactment over and above the natural drama of the Church's liturgy, using the sacrament in a very unusual way.

How did this sort of thing creep into Orthodox custom? These things do not appear in the rubrics of the services but are simply pious additions which are largely unknown outside of Greek practice, so I wonder whether these are latinisations, (in terms of the way of thinking about how we worship rather direct borrowings of practice), that permeated the Greek church under Ottoman rule. I recall once reading that a number of Greek clergy during this time were trained in Roman Catholic seminaries. Whatever the origins, is it something that is in keeping with the way that we understand worship, that we feel worship, that we do worship? Is it something that we ought to continue? I don't think so, personally, but my saying so comes largely from gut feeling based on what I have been taught and what I have absorbed, and how it has moulded me over the past few years and is not something that I can argue academically. However, given the centrality of worship to the Christian life and the importance that has in transmitting the Faith to the innermost parts of our beings, I do not feel that the degree to which the way we worship affects our understanding of our own place in relation to Christ and within the life of his Church can be thought of too lightly.

Anyway, there my thoughts are. I don't know what, if anything, others make of them.

Small Things - Part 2

A few months ago, I wrote a heartfelt piece on the value of being faithful in small things. I am very grateful to Moses over on the Burning Bush blog for posting this portion of the writings of St John of Shanghai and San Francisco:

Many people believe that to live according to the faith and to fulfill the will of God is very difficult. Actually — it’s very easy. One needs only attend to details, to trifles, and try to avoid evil in the slightest and most trivial things. This is the simplest and surest way to enter the world of the spirit and draw near to God. A man often thinks that the Creator demands great things of him, that the Gospel insists on complete self-sacrifice, the abolition of one’s person hood, etc., as a condition of faith. A man is so frightened by this that he begins to be afraid of becoming acquainted with God, of drawing near to God, and hides himself from God, not even wishing to look into God’s Word. 'If I can’t do anything important for God, then I’d just better stay away from things spiritual, stop thinking about eternity, and live "in a normal way".'

There exists at the entrance to the spiritual realm a “hypnosis of great deeds”: one must either do some big thing or do nothing. And so people do nothing at all for God or for their souls! It is very strange — the more a man is devoted to the little things of life, the less he wishes to be honest or pure or faithful to God in those same little things. And, moreover, each one must adopt a correct attitude toward little things if one wishes to come near to the kingdom of heaven.

“Wishes to come near”… In this is summed up all the difficulties of the religious life. Often one wishes to enter into the kingdom of heaven quite unexpectedly, in some miraculous and magical way, or, by right — through some kind of great feat. But neither the one nor the other is the right way to find the higher world. One does not enter God’s presence in some wondrous manner while remaining indifferent on earth to the needs of the kingdom of God and its bright eternity, nor can one purchase the treasures of the kingdom of God by some kind of eternal act, however great that act might be. Yet good deeds - holy deeds - are necessary for one to grow into a higher life, a bright will, a good desire, a heavenly psychology, a heart that is both pure and fair…

“…Verily, verily I say unto you that whosoever offers one of the least of these but a cup of cold water, in the name of a disciple, shall not lose his reward.” In this saying of the Lord is the highest expression of the smallness of the good. “A glass of water” — this is not much…

…In every communication between people there must without fail be a good spirit. This spirit is Christ, openly manifest or hidden.

“In the name of a disciple” — this is the first step in communicating with another person in the name of Jesus Christ Himself. Many people, not as yet knowing the Lord and the wondrous fellowship in his Name still have among themselves an unselfish, pure and human fellowship which brings them ever closer to the Spirit of Christ…

…As a matter of fact, the lesser good is more necessary for mankind than the greater. People can get along with their lives without the greater good; without the lesser they can not exist. Mankind perishes not from a lack of the greater good, but from an insufficiency of just this lesser good. The greater good is no more than a roof, erected on the brick walls of the lesser good.

The lesser, easier good was left on this earth for man by the Creator Himself, who took all the greater good upon Himself. Whosoever does the lesser, the same creates — and through him the Creator Himself creates — the greater good. Of our little good the Creator makes his own great good. For as our Lord is the Creator who formed all things from nothingness, so is He more able to create the greater good from the lesser…

Through such lesser, easy work, done with the greatest simplicity, a man is accustomed to the good and begins to serve it with his whole heart, sincerely, and in this way enters into an atmosphere of good, lets down the roots of his life into new soil, the soil of the good. The roots of human life quickly accommodate themselves to this good earth, and soon cannot live without it… Thus is a man saved: from the small comes the great. “Faithful in little things” turns out to be “faithful in the greater.”

Lay aside all theoretical considerations that it is forbidden to slaughter millions, women, children, and elderly; be content to manifest your moral sense by in no way killing the human dignity of your neighbour, neither by word, nor by innuendo, nor by gesture.

Do not be angry over trifles “against your brother vainly” (Matthew 5:22) or in the daily contacts of life speak untruth to your neighbour. These are trifles, small change, of no account; but just try to do this and you will see what comes of it.

It is hard to pray at night. But try in the morning. If you can’t manage to pray at home than at least as you ride to your place of employment attempt with a clear head the “Our Father” and let the words of this short prayer resound in your heart. And at night commend yourself with complete sincerity into the hands of the Heavenly Father. This indeed is very easy.

And give, give a glass of cold water to everyone who has need of it; give a glass filled to the brim with simple human companionship to everyone that lack it, the very simplest companionship…

O wondrous path of little things, I sing thee a hymn! Surround yourselves, O people, gird up yourselves with little works of good — with a chain of little, simple, easy and good feelings which cost us naught, a chain of bright thoughts, words and deeds. Let us abandon the big and the difficult. That is for them that love it and not for us for whom the Lord in his mercy, for us who have not yet learned to love the greater, has poured forth the lesser love everywhere, free as water and air.

- From Missionary Leaflet 129

An Extraordinary Peace: St Seraphim, Flame of Sarov

An Extraordinary Peace: St Seraphim, Flame of Sarov
Archimandrite Lazarus (Moore)

In this newly-available reprint of his classic work, Archimandrite Lazarus exposes the reader to a depth of spiritual beauty far beyond anything that most of us know in our day-to-day lives. Yet, with simple clarity, he is able to present this in a way that is accessible to all, irrespective of their own stage of spiritual growth. As I read the book, I came to realise that this is perhaps reflective of the spirit of St Seraphim as much as it is due to the labours of Father Lazarus.

The first chapter tells a little of the early life of St Seraphim and perhaps strays a little into the tedium of historicity and precision of dates. However, it quickly makes the transition into the real substance of the work. Drawing heavily on the sayings of St Seraphim himself, the book draws the reader into a world that overturns everyday reality, and time after time challenges the expectations based on it, as the astounding story is told of the faith, humility, and ascetic struggles of St Seraphim, recounted in the written accounts of many of those who had the great privilege of knowing this extraordinary man of God during his earthly life. Fr Lazarus’ own humble approach to the task of recounting the Saint’s life allows the accounts to speak for themselves, as indeed they in turn allow the astounding wisdom of the clairvoyant Fr Seraphim to shine through, no doubt benefitting the reader today almost as much as those who sat at the feet of this great spiritual father.

This is essential reading for anybody seeking a better appreciation of the ascetic labours of those who give up everything for the love of Christ, and while being caught up in the beauty of St Seraphim’s life, the reader should not expect to remain free from the discomfort of introspection that An Extraordinary Peace ironically evokes.

-A review of mine, from the Winter-Spring edition of Orthodox News, published by the St George Orthodox Information Service, from where copies of this book may be purchased.