Three Hermits

I read a story last night around 2 am that I thought I'd share because I really liked it. It's a summary of a story by Tolstoy:

"A bishop and several pilgrims are travelling on a fishing boat from Archangel to the Solovétsk Monastery. During the voyage, the bishop overhears a discussion about a remote island, nearby their course, where three old hermits live a spartan existence focused on seeking "salvation for their souls." 

Inquiring about the hermits, the bishop finds that several of the fishermen claim to have seen the hermits once. The bishop then informs the captain that he wishes to visit the island. The captain seeks to dissuade him by saying, "the old men are not worth your pains. I have heard say that they are foolish old fellows, who understand nothing, and never speak a word." The bishop insists and the captain steers the ship toward the island. 

The bishop subsequently sets off in a rowboat to visit. He is met ashore by the three hermits. The bishop informs the hermits that he has heard of them and of their search for salvation. He inquires how they are seeking salvation and serving God, but the hermits say they do not know how, only that they pray, simply: "Three are ye, three are we, have mercy upon us." 

Subsequently, the bishop acknowledges that they have a little knowledge but are ignorant of the true meaning of the doctrine and how to pray properly. He tells them that he will teach them "not a way of my own, but the way in which God in the Holy Scriptures has commanded all men to pray to Him" and proceeds to explain the doctrines of the incarnation and the Trinity. 

He attempts to teach them the Lord's Prayer, the "Our Father", but the simple hermits blunder and cannot remember the words. This compels the bishop to repeat the lesson late into the night. After he is satisfied that they have memorized the prayer, the Bishop departs from the island leaving the hermits with a firm instruction to pray as he has taught them. The bishop then returns to the fisherman's vessel anchored offshore in the rowboat and continues his voyage. 

While on board, the bishop notices that their vessel is being followed. At first he thinks a boat is behind them but he soon realizes that the three hermits are running across the surface of the water "as though it were dry land." The hermits catch up to the vessel as the captain stops the boat, and inform the bishop, "We have forgotten your teaching, servant of God. As long as we kept repeating it we remembered, but when we stopped saying it for a time, a word dropped out, and now it has all gone to pieces. We can remember nothing of it. Teach us again." 

The bishop is humbled and replies to the hermits, "Your own prayer will reach the Lord, men of God. It is not for me to teach you. Pray for us sinners." 

After this, the hermits turn around and walk back to their island.

Prayer as love

Nov. 4, 2019

This weekend was a lot about prayer.

After our neighbors left for the hospital for the baby's MRI on Saturday, we came in and lit candles and incense in the censer and said prayers for the sick. Afterwards, I was trying to open the censer so I could add more incense (it comes in bags and it looks like little tiny rocks)
 to the hot coal, and the censer tipped over, because it's HOT and the lid is heavy, and the coal slid behind the bookcase. (By the way, when I light the charcoal for the incense and blow on it, I have to laugh that my years smoking hookah weren't a complete waste). So, we had to move the bookcase out, put the hot coal into a cup of water with a wet paper towel, and sweep up the sand and ashes that spilled.

When we got everything put back, I lit the censer again. We have beeswax candles that burn super fast, so I need to start thinking about buying more. It's nice to be able to buy them from the church-- you can buy candles of all sizes to light for people at church-- but it's also expensive, so I'll probably re-order from Amazon.

The neighbors were at the hospital for a long time. They had to anesthetize the baby to perform the

MRI, and the MRI itself took two hours. They were somber when they returned and said they wouldn't hear anything until Monday-- if then. We got a text asking us to go to Catechumen class early to help out at the church, so we left and went and helped clean some stuff from the party Thursday night. I sanitized all of the highchairs and kids' chairs while Darren moved tables around and chairs to get them ready for the Agape meal on Sunday, and also, for Catechumen class of course.

Catechumen class was very good, but Vespers was even better. It's so beautiful and peaceful with the lights dimmed and the lit candles. And Father Justin spoke a lot about prayer. He was talking about these Orthodox priests who were imprisoned in Romania just for being Orthodox priests, and they were tortured. I read online later about the torture and "re-education" program, but I had to stop reading, because it was even more terrible than what Father described to us. And these priests survived their experiences through deep inner prayer. And then they forgave their torturers. Father Justin was talking to one of the priests and happened to see the priest without his hat. His head was severely dented, and Father exclaimed over it, and the priest said, "From the rifle butts. But this was nothing. The spiritual and emotional scars are deeper." Basically, they tried to make the priests blaspheme, and they tried to get the priests to deny their faith. And they also tried to make the priests inflict torture on each other. Some of them tried to kill themselves so they wouldn't have to torture someone else.

So, how did prayer save these priests? There were priests who were put into chambers with hundreds of lightbulbs so closing their eyes did no good. And that can make people insane-- isn't that interesting, because we speak of God's light being either painful or cleansing? Light can literally make you insane if you get too much of it. This priest came out of the torture with his sanity in tact because he went deeply into himself in prayer. This requires a lot of discipline. Same with surviving solitary confinement for YEARS. One priest said he used to make friends with the cockroaches because they were other living creatures, and he would weep when they would leave.

We live pretty cushy lives. We don't really *need* to pray or to rely on God, because we live under the delusion that we are self-sufficient. Or, we turn to God in prayer when our little baby neighbor gets cancer in her eye, and we think, "Oh, whoops, I need a little more help than I thought!"

But that's the lie: That we don't need prayer or to rely on God daily. We do. How many of us can say that our lives are aligned every moment with Christ? Some of the monks say the Jesus prayer while they walk, and one monk whom Father Justin met could hear the little old man muttering to himself as he walked around. When Father Justin asked him about it, the monk said, "I'm talking to Christ. You can't sin while you are talking to Christ." And he would just sort of give Christ a running commentary of what he was doing and thinking.

Father Justin was pleading with us to take our prayer lives seriously, and to devote more time to prayer than we do to Facebook or television or other things that may not be harmful in and of themselves, but certainly don't bring us closer to  Christ.

This is what Darren and I have been searching and searching for. I've never heard someone plead with me so much to pray for my own sake, because as I said in an earlier post, our prayers don't help God. I have also never had anyone provide the tools for me to put into practice to help me draw closer to God. Fasting teaches us to die to ourselves every day. Of course we would rather eat a cheeseburger than carrots and hummus again during long fasting periods. But we can deny ourselves that cheeseburger because we are humans.

We aren't animals. We don't have to give in to every whim we have. And I can stand for longer and longer periods at church without sitting, because if I sat and prayed and it was easy, what would I truly be giving to God? Father Paul said, "If your legs and back hurt while you're praying? Glory to God!" And if go and stand in front of the icons to pray when I'm very tired and just want to climb into bed, then I am dying to myself. I am dying to my own wants, and I am focusing on Christ.

So, why is it important for me to die to myself every day? Because the more I can empty myself of my own wants and needs, the more room I have for Christ to fill me. That means, in its most simple form, the more room I have for love.

I have never been to another church that asked so much of me for my own sake before. It doesn't benefit anyone else if I fast. We aren't even supposed to talk about it with others (we share recipes, but we're not supposed to boast or complain about it, or ask anyone else if they are keeping the fast).

It can benefit others if I pray, and I'll have to sort of tease this out. Mostly, it's about love. God isn't looking for reasons not to save us. God wants us to turn to him. He will not overrule our free will, but he will save us whenever possible. And so if I pray for someone, even if they are dead, I'm showing love for them. I'm helping to redeem them through love. I don't know if that makes sense-- but maybe loving people through prayer can help lift them up.

Father Justin told the story of a woman who lived in the old country. She was baptized, but she was just mean and nasty her whole life.  So, after she died, she went to hell. And the demons and other people there rejoiced, because she was such a terrible person. But then they got the news that no:  She was, in face, going to be lifted into heaven. Because one time she had given a beggar an onion. That one instance of love was enough to save her, because God wants to save us. So, an onion (think of one of the long-stemmed onions, not a round one) was lowered to her, and she grasped it, and was lifted toward heaven. The other people started grabbing onto her, saying, "Take us with you!" She kicked them off, saying, "No, this is mine!" And the onion disappeared and she dropped back into hell. Because she didn't have love.

Yesterday after liturgy, Father Justin said prayers for the dead for two people: One is the wife of a priest who died suddenly on Thursday evening of a heart attack. She leaves four small children. She was 35.

The other person was a friend of one of our parish families. She was a ten-year-old little girl named Destiny who committed suicide.

When we say prayers for the dead, altar boys bring out a small table with a dish of Koliva. It's a wheat dish that takes a very long time to prepare, and people often prepare it for Soul Saturdays in which general commemorations are made for the dead.

"In the 5th century CE koliva in the sense of boiled wheat, constituted along with raw vegetables the diet of monks who refused to eat bread.[5] The 12th century canonist Theodore Balsamon maintained that koliva as a ritual food practice was originated by Athanasius of Alexandria during the reign of the Emperor Julian the Apostate.[6]
The association between death and life, between that which is planted in the ground and that which emerges, is deeply embedded in the making and eating of koliva. The ritual food passed from paganism to early Christianity in Byzantium and later spread to the entire Orthodox world.
Christian interpretation
Romanian colivă used in a religious ceremony in a Christian Orthodox church
Orthodox Christians consider koliva to be the symbolic of death and resurrection, according to the words of the Gospel:
Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. (John 12:24)
Wheat which is planted in the earth and rises in new life is symbolic of those beloved departed who have died in the hope of resurrection, in accordance with the words of Saint Paul:
So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption. It is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body....(1 Corinthians 15:42-44)
This symbolism has its highest expression in the Saints, whose blessed state in heaven have been manifested to the world. For this reason, koliva is blessed not only at memorials for the departed, but also in commemoration of saints."

It tastes (to me) like rice pudding. They put a beeswax candle into the dish and light it and pray around the table, which they also cense with incense.

Father Justin said, regarding Destiny, this little ten-year-old girl, who had been bullied to the point that she took her own life: "Someone said to me-- and this person was an Orthodox Christian -- 'I hope Destiny doesn't go to hell.'" And then Father Justin raised his voice. "I said, 'Are you INSANE? What kind of a God do you worship?'" He went on to say that suicide is a terrible sin-- the height of selfishness-- and the Orthodox won't bury people who have committed suicide. But there is mercy and dispensation for the insane. And a ten-year-old child committing suicide is the height of insanity. "Do you not think she is in the bosom of her Father? Who has more love and compassion than any person? If we can have love and compassion for this child, how much greater is God's? Anything about God that isn't about love is not Orthododox. You can know that. I never want to hear an Orthodox Christian say anything like that ever again."

And I was so grateful to be part of a worship service that offered love and compassion and tenderness and mercy and grace to this child. Instead of judgement and condemnation. Of course, her death if a tragedy. But we pray for her. We lift her up to God. We pray for her salvation. She is blameless before God. She was a *child.*

Lord Jesus Christ Son of God, have mercy on your servant Destiny.

I got a text from Katie when I was at Catechumen class.  Their doctor went in on his day off to read the MRI results. He called to tell them that the cancer is isolated to that eyeball. It has not impacted the optic nerve. It has not spread. She is a perfect candidate for targeted chemotherapy. They are leaving for Phoenix today for the first round of treatment. Imogen will keep her eye. Imogen will live. Lord have mercy. God is love.

I told Katie when we got home that I truly believed that God was showing off, that God made it so the cancer was perfectly contained to the tumor so that Imogen will recover. She said that her husband had made a remark earlier about this being an answer to prayer: "Who gave Imogen the cancer to begin with?"

He walked in just as she was saying this, so I didn't have a chance to respond. This website says it perfectly.

God doesn't give babies cancer. But because of the Fall, illness, corruption, and death entered our world. And just as God will not impose on our free will to save us, God will allow suffering to help lift us up. People asked Jesus what sin a man's parents (or the man himself) had committed that the man was born blind. Christ responded that nobody had sinned. Jesus answered, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him."

And yes, ten-year-old little girls killing themselves is a tragedy. Thirty-five-year old women dying of heart attacks is tragic, maybe especially when they leave four grieving children and a grieving husband to raise them. A baby getting cancer in her eyeball is tragic.

But we are all going to die. Every single one of us. So, it's not death that is the tragedy, but the timing or the circumstances, or the people we leave behind. And if we view this life as all we have, then death does become more tragic. But if we believe that Christ is God and that He took on human form to conquer death so that we could once again be in communion with God, there is comfort. There is mercy. There is grace.

Am I a fool to believe this? Am I just trying to find meaning in a meaningless life and universe? Am I creating God in my own image? Just believing what I want to believe? I am sure there are people who think all of those things. But I have stepped into the stream of worship that is ongoing in Heaven. I have stepped into the life of Christ. I have had glimpses of grace. And I believe.

People might also say, "Why are you putting importance on a life AFTER this one that you have no way of confirming is real? It's THIS life that is important."

And I agree. THIS life is all we have. Christ tells us in the scriptures to be in the here and now. Right now is all we have. And the answer is: It goes back to love. I can choose a life of faith and try to fill myself with love and compassion for others and for myself. And that is the life I want. And if that means that I am foolish, then I'll be a fool for Christ. Because this is my best life. This is a life that I want to be free of bitterness and full of love. This is why I am an Orthodox Christian. 

Saints Cyprian & Justina

Nov. 1, 2019

Last night, we said an Akathist to Saints Cyprian & Justina.

Father Justin wrote in an email: "(They are especially invoked for those under demonic influence, very important for us to pray for the world on this night)." I am not sure whether this was a Vespers? I guess I need to find out what an Akathist is. Spelling it correctly would be a good start-- I was omitting the end "t." An Akathist is a hymn dedicated to a saint, holy event, or one of the members of the Trinity. I guess it can still be considered Vespers, though, because of the time of the day (we go to Vespers on Saturday nights because in Orthodox time, the liturgical day starts the evening before).


The prayers themselves tell the story of the saints. To paraphrase from the link above, Cyprian was a powerful Wiccan in 249AD, in Antioch. He was trained by sorcerers from a very young age, and dabbled in the Dark Arts, as we say in the 21st century. He commanded demons, and people often sought out his powers.

"Already he was entirely in the depths of hell and in the jaws of the devil; he was a son of gehenna, a partaker of the demonic inheritance and of their eternal perdition. But the Lord, who does not desire the death of a sinner, in His unutterable goodness and His mercy which is not conquered by the sins of men, deigned to seek out this lost man, to draw out of the abyss one who was mired in the filth of the depths of hell, and to save him in order to show to all men His mercy; for there is no sin which can conquer His love of mankind."

Justina was a young woman who also lived in Antioch, and she started to hear about Christ.

"Once, sitting at the window of her house, this maiden, who had then already reached womanhood, by chance heard the words of salvation out of the mouth of a deacon who was passing by, whose name was Praylius. He spoke of our Lord Jesus Christ's becoming man, that He had been born of the Most Pure Virgin and, having performed many miracles, had deigned to suffer for the sake of our salvation, had risen from the dead with glory, ascended into the heavens, and sits at the right hand of the Father and reigns eternally. This preaching of the deacon fell on good soil, into the heart of Justina, and began quickly to bring forth fruit, uprooting in her the thorns of unbelief. Justina wished to be instructed in the Faith by this deacon better and more completely, but she did not dare to seek him out, being restrained by a maiden's modesty. However, she secretly went to the church of Christ, and often hearing the word of God, with the Holy Spirit acting in her heart, she came to believe in Christ."

Her parents, who had been pagans, were also converted after a time. After her conversion, Justina had no wish to marry a mortal man. She wanted to devote her life to Christ. But a young, wealthy man named Aglaias saw Justina and wanted her. He tried to court her, but she would have none of it. 

So, Aglaias sought the help of the great Wiccan Cyprian, which is how Cyprian came to be saved. 

Aglaias asked Cyprian for a spell to make Justina fall in love with him. Aglaias sprinkled a powder over her house, and Justina was afflicted with lust for Aglaias. However, Justina recognized herself to be under evil influence, and she prayed fervently made the sign of the cross and overcame the spell. 

The demon who had been sent to tempt and overtake Justina went back and told Cyprian that Justina had used a weapon that had caused the demon to flee. 

Cyprian figured he better just use a better demon. 

He sent several more demons to try to tempt her, and one by one, she defeated all of them with her faith and the sign of the cross. 

Finally, Cyprian, unable to understand how one simple virgin could overpower all of these powerful demons, asked a demon what the weapon was that Justina had used against them. 

"In great disturbance, the proud prince of the demons returned to Cyprian, who, finding out that he had not managed to do anything, said to him: "Can it be that even you, a prince powerful and more skillful than others in such matters, could not conquer the maiden? Who then among you can do anything with this unconquerable maiden's heart? Tell me by what weapon she battles with you, and how she makes powerless your mighty power?"Being conquered by the power of God, the devil unwillingly acknowledged: "We cannot behold the sign of the Cross, but flee from it, because it scorches us like fire and banishes us far away."
Cyprian became angry at the devil because he had put him to shame, and reproaching the demon, he said: "Such is your power that even a weak virgin conquers you!"

Cyprian was furious, so he rained down hell on Justina, her family, and he entire village. However, Justina assured the villagers that God would heal them and remove their trials. She prayed, and what she said came to pass.

People began to mock Cyprian because his power was not greater than Christ's.

Cyprian repented and asked the villagers for mercy. Cyprian told the devil:

"For if you fear even the shadow of the cross and tremble at the name of Christ, then what will you do when Christ Himself comes to you? If you cannot conquer those who sign themselves with the sign of the cross, then whom will you tear away from the hands of Christ?"

The devil attacked Cyprian, who cried out for the God of Justina to save him. He made the sign of the cross, and the devil departed.

Cyprian then gathered up all of his books and took them to the local bishop and burned them. He begged the bishop to baptize him. He was made Catechumen. There is a part of the liturgy that says, "Depart, Catechumen, depart!" and in the old days, indeed, the Catechumen had to leave the church before the Eucharist was brought out. But Cyprian refused to leave until they baptized him.

Cyprian became a reader, then a deacon, and then a priest, and finally a bishop. Justina became one of his primary helpers, and he made her a deaconess and then an abbess at a convent.

The pagans, however, who had relied on Cyprian to help them, were not happy. They complained to the governor that these Christians were trying to overthrow the government.

The governor asked Cyprian why he had given up his life of wealth and power. Cyprian told the governor about what had happened, and the governor threw Cyprian and Justina into prison and tortured them. They withstood every torture, praising God the whole time.

They were eventually condemned to be beheaded. Cyprian was afraid that Justina would be frightened if she saw him beheaded first, so he asked for extra time to pray, but she joyfully stretched out her neck when it was time.



They were both martyred for their faith. Their bodies were unburied for six days, until strangers stole them away to Rome and a pious woman, Rufina, who was related to Claudius Caesar, buried them with honor. Many who have come to their graves in faith have been healed.

We said the Akathist to these saints on Halloween because praying to them helps people who are afflicted with demons-- which we all are, to some degree.

Lord Jesus Christ, Have Mercy on Me

Father Paul also talked to us about praying. He admitted that up until a couple of years ago, he hated praying. He did it, but mostly to check off boxes. In Orthodoxy (and this is true also in Catholicism and the Episcopal church, to certain degrees-- I don't know about other traditions as much, but it's been a pretty new concept to us), you follow a Prayer "Rule." Usually given to you by your priest. But it usually involves saying prayers that are ancient, and that you either memorize or read from a prayer book. We say the same prayers every morning and every evening. I should probably say the Midday prayers somehow at work or at least on the weekends, but I don't. There are also prayers for grace, and we sort of do a modification of that. But you can also say the Jesus Prayer: Lord Jesus Christ, Have Mercy on Me. Variations of that are: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have Mercy on Me, a Sinner. I learned, also, recently, that you you can use the Jesus Prayer to pray for other people: "Lord Jesus Christ, Have mercy on your servant _____." So, when I'm by myself in the car now, I'll pray for other people with the Jesus Prayer, using that method.

But Father Paul told us that he prepares for prayer by reading something inspirational-- usually about a saint or about prayer specifically. Then he does some cleansing breathing to relax himself so that he's relaxed to pray and not feeling tense. And he said that he used to sort of hurl prayers at Christ. Lord Jesus Christ, HAVE MERCY ON ME! And sort of expect God to just fix him. But then it occurred to him that he was shouting at God all the time, and God doesn't actually need our prayers. We don't pray to assuage God's ego. We don't pray because we're to interesting that God craves our company or companionship. We pray because that is one of the ways we can invite God to talk to *us.* So that we can *listen.* So, if we view prayer as an invitation for God to enter us, for us to interact and be in communion with God, then we can view our prayer time as a time to spend time with Christ instead of as an obligation or something we are doing because we think somehow hearing the same words over and over again makes God super happy. I usually *don't* make time to listen to God. I say the prayers though, and not because I'm supposed to. After all, I made the decision to return to the Orthodox Church and to participate in this life. I do it because I want to feel closer to God, and because I want to start and end my day by focusing on God and remembering Him and by making Him the center of my life. But I sort of have to start making time to listen also.

We had a great time tonight at the church All Saints Eve party. I spent almost the whole evening holding a sweet four-or-five-month old baby. He fell asleep in my arms again (he did Sunday as well), even though the noise was deafening.

Even though we had a great time, we got some sober news from the neighbors tonight. Their baby Imogen saw the doctor today and she has a tumor in her eye. We are absolutely gobsmacked. She has a rare form of cancer. I found out on Facebook because Katie's mom started a Go Fund Me for them. When we got home, they were literally sitting in the dark crying on their porch and smoking cigarettes. Fortunately, the dr told them that babies in America don't usually die from this type of cancer. It's very localized-- her other eye is perfect and healthy. They had to put her under anesthesia to examine her eye, and the anesthesiologist told them, "It's probably cancer," the JERK. This was before the dr had even fully examined her. They did an ultrasound that showed "seeds" also. That's a problem. One course of treatment is to send them to Phoenix for a specialized course of chemo to shrink the tumor. But that would shrink the seeds. The other alternative is to remove her eye and just get all the cancer. Another but: they are doing an MRI on Saturday and that will tell them how far it's progressed and whether it has spread. I'm going to go with them for that. It's all so surreal. Grayden is leaning toward the surgery, but Katie wants more information.This is the type of thing that changes people. The baby isn't even two. Two years ago today, they had the ultrasound that told them they were having a girl. Tomorrow is Katie's birthday.

Lord, have mercy on your servant Imogen.

You're going to suck at this

I just ordered a lava cake for Darren and I to share. We stepped out onto the porch for a smoke after. The sky is full of clouds and it feels like they are full of snow. They are hanging low in the sky and look like white smoke. It's pretty, but we're supposed to get 1-3 inches of snow tomorrow. 

We had a good meeting with our priest this afternoon.  We saw Michael the homeless man in the parking lot and walked over to 7-11 and got him a cheeseburger and some chimichangas and a pack of smokes. It's getting colder and I am wondering where he is sleeping. There is a cold, metal balcony above the parking lot that we've seen his sleeping bag in-- which is good because there are rats in the parking lot. But I think if he slept outside this week he could freeze to death.

Father Paul gave us what he calls, "The Talk." He started with how Orthodoxy differs from Protestantism, some of which we already knew  He told us that the Orthodox view of sin is that we turn away from Christ. Repentance is turning back toward Christ. Christ does not turn away from us. Our goal is to be in perfect harmony with Christ (which isn't really possible, of course, but one tries). He talked about the parable of the rich man. How does that start? It starts with the man calling Christ "good." 

Mark 10:17-31

The Rich and the Kingdom of God

As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. “Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone..."

So Christ, who IS God, says no one is good except for God. 

Father Paul said, "You're going to want to be good Orthodox Christians. That is just setting yourself up for failure. You can't do it." 

Then he talked about how we can't do it because we are too full of ourselves. He pulled a glass off the shelf and said, Imagine that this glass were full of dirt. Dirt is our selfishness and pride and sin. Christ told the Samaritan Woman at the well (St. Photini) in John 4: 

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

But when our glass is already full of ourselves, how can we be filled with Christ? We can't. So what can we do? We can try to empty ourselves and allow room for Christ. 

One day, we will all stand before God, and His light will either be warm or scalding. We are trying to become accustomed to the light now so we will receive it the way God intends. 

But the thing is, Christ loves us so much that He won't force His grace on us. So, if we say, "Well, I only want 99% of You, because I am selfish and I would rather sleep for five more minutes than pray or love my neighbor or fast or {insert selfless act here}." So Christ will leave us our one percent of sin. Our dirt in the glass. And what happens when you add water to dirt? You get mud. And so we can never fully experience Grace as humans because we will always have some dirt in our glass. 

But we can try to empty ourselves and have as much water in our cup as possible. 

St. Paul says in Galatians 2:20:

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

But St. Paul still uses the word, "I." Because we are still us. We are filled with Christ the more we empty ourselves. And what is Christ? Love. 

At Catechumen class on Saturday, Father Justin told us that the Good Samaritan is Christ. He's a half-breed. He picks up the man and takes him to an inn. The inn is the church and the innkeeper is the priest. He tells the innkeeper to care for the man. 

In the parable of the Prodigal Son, the boy's father sees the boy coming home because He has never turned away. 

God never turns away. We can see this again and again in the scriptures. 

Father Paul and Father Justin have also been talking about how the theology department should be housed with the medical school. Confession is about talking about how we have turned away from Christ and finding out ways to turn back to Him. Metanoia. Repentance. Turning back. It's not about punishment-- it's about healing.

Father Paul told us a very important theological concept: "From now on, you should have only two expectations of your spiritual life: First, you're going to suck at this. And second, when you fall, Christ will pick you up again." 

Lastly, I saw this icon today:

St. Marina was such a cool saint. I love that image. More about her tomorrow. 

 

I should have been writing about this all along on our journey.

One of the ways we figure out what we want or need, obviously, is to learn what we don't want or need or like.

Darren grew up in the evangelical world, so he was more comfortable in it than I was. I didn't like the worship music. I applaud singing as a form of worship, but singing about how God is a "good dad" just offended me. I also didn't like seeing preachers with their arms outstretched telling God how "You are so worthy of being praised." That offended me too. Because it seems patronizing-- you don't get to tell God He's worthy because that suggests that you could possibly tell Him He were unworthy.

Another thing I don't like about evangelical services is people raising their arms in the air during the cheesy worship music. It just smacks of effort-- like they're trying too hard. But maybe I've just never felt like raising my arms in the air to music. I just think it's... copying others who are doing it? I think to some degree it's encouraged by pastors-- I've heard people talk about that. But that also suggests manufacturing some kind of sentimental feeling that people get addicted to rather than genuine spirituality.

Maybe that's what some people need, but I didn't find it very satisfying.

I'm not trying to be critical of other forms of worship so much as to detail my own journey and what I've learned, and what has led me to Orthodoxy. I feel bad because I feel like I've been negative: "I don't like, I didn't like." But that's the truth of it.

I am not completely comfortable, however, with making a laundry list of things I don't like about other traditions and faiths. Maybe it's better instead to focus on what I wanted, what I need, which I think I've touched upon in other posts.

It's so frustrating, because now that I feel like I have completed my my journey to Orthodoxy, I find that I'm not really as interested in recounting it. It seemed incredibly frustrating at the time, but I think that's always the case when you're trying to find something, and you're looking in the wrong places. You try to be open-minded and give things a fair shot, but I think in the past year and a half, I was just going through the motions because I knew my heart was in Orthodoxy. So, I didn't really give anything else a fair shake.

I tried to like the Episcopal church. I really did. I loved the people. I really liked the priest. The theology wasn't offensive. But the corollary to being inoffensive is that it also didn't really inspire anything. The liturgy left me cold. I received the Eucharist there every week, but I didn't know what I was supposed to be feeling, and I didn't really feel anything. They say that it's Christ who invites you to the table and Christ who meets you there, but I didn't really get that, and I still don't.

I don't know how I'll feel about receiving the Eucharist at the Orthodox church either. But I know that the fact that I can't receive it until I am baptized changes it a little bit. But having grown up in the Mormon faith with the sacrament being water and wonder bread means that I don't have a particularly special relationship with the Eucharist. But I don't think that the Lord's Supper should be left in the hands of the teenagers of the Mormon church who prepare it, pray over it, and dispense it.

In Evangelical churches, it's often torn bread and grape juice. Same thing. It's not very wondrous or holy or special.

The Orthodox view the Eucharist as a mystery, and in addition to being baptized, you prepare yourself to receive the body of Christ in other ways. Confession, prayer, fasting. They believe that it can be sincerely detrimental to you if you receive it when you have not prepared yourself.

It's hard to write about spiritual things sometimes because I realize that some things sound superstitious. I have enough education and cynicism to anticipate the arguments of potential readers, and it's something that I feel strongly enough about privately that I don't really want to invite commentary or argument about it. It's hard to write about, and I'm not used to that experience. 

Learning about Orthodoxy

Because we didn't know very much about Orthodoxy, we set out to learn. And we were living in a small town in Utah at the time. The closest Orthodox parish was about two hours from us. I reached out and contacted the priest (who lived in Idaho at the time) and started asking him some questions. I pulled from boxes the books on Orthodoxy I had bought years before when I had first started collecting icons. And we turned, of course, to social media.

Here are some of the first videos I remember us watching together:

The Jesus Prayer

Learning to Pray

Confronting the Fire of God's Love-- Fr Barnabas Powell

Orthodox Boot Camp, Session 1: Fr Barnabas Powell

Orthodox Boot Camp, Session 2: Fr Barnabas Powell

Orthodox view of Salvation  to this day, this video has probably had one of the most profound impacts on how I view God. While we had been attending our Bible Study, we had been discussing theology with people from a primarily Baptist background, which was consistent with Darren's upbringing. Because I had come from a Latter-Day Saint background, the general conception was (and mostly correctly so) that I generally knew nothing about real Christianity.

But I knew that what they were telling me didn't really sit well with my own experiences of God. They told us that God cannot look at sin, so that when God looks at us, he sees Christ in front of us. And that the most important part of Christ's suffering and dying on the cross was to die for our sins. This is penal substitutionary atonement theory. One of its primary tenets is that Christ died to satisfy an angry God. You will often hear evangelists say, "God is love, but..." And after that "but" comes "He is also a Just God." They like to focus on the "just" part. That somehow God was so angry with mankind that his own Son had to die to make God less angry. How would that make a parent less angry?

Anyway, this view differs from the Orthodox view of salvation.

According to Orthodoxy, God never turns away from us. Humans can't make God angry. Humans can't make God anything. Father Barnabas Powell (see videos below) likes to say, "God's just fine." It's really ridiculous to think that anything as puny as a human being could make something as huge as God angry. Angry enough that He would demand a blood sacrifice.

In Orthodoxy, the real work of the cross was the resurrection that came afterwards. Before Christ's resurrection, mankind was separated from God by The Fall. Everyone who died went to Hades. After Christ's resurrection, he went down into Hades and pulled everyone out.

The Resurrection of Christ is the central event in the liturgical year of the Orthodox Church and is understood in literal terms as a real historical event. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was crucified and died, descended into Hades, rescued all the souls held there through man's original sin; and then, because Hades could not restrain the infinite God, rose from the dead, thus saving all humanity. Through these events, he released humanity from the bonds of Hades and then came back to the living as man and God. That each individual human may partake of this immortality, which would have been impossible without the Resurrection, is the main promise held out by God in his New Covenant with humanity, according to Orthodox Christian tradition.

The Orthodox also do not believe in a Hell of fire and brimstone, a Hell of eternal conscious torment. What could a man do in his short period on earth to warrant being tortured for eternity?

The Eastern Orthodox Church... teaches that both the elect and the lost enter into the presence of God after death, and that the elect experience this presence as light and rest, while the lost experience it as darkness and torment... Hell as professed in the East is neither the absence of God, nor the ontological separation of the soul from the presence of God, but rather the opposite—Heaven and Hell are the fully manifest divine presence, experienced either pleasantly as peace and joy or unpleasantly as shame and anguish, depending upon one's spiritual state and preparedness. 

Sin is viewed in Orthodoxy not as a list of bad things that people do, but as a turning away from God. Repentance is a turning back.

Eastern Orthodox Christians hold that man was originally created in communion with God, but through acting in a manner contrary to his own nature (which is intrinsically ordered to communion with God), he disrupted that communion.

Because of man's refusal to fulfill the "image and likeness of God" within him, corruption and the sickness of sin whose consequence is death entered man's mode of existence. But when Jesus came into the world He Himself was Perfect Man and Perfect God united in the divine Hypostasis of the Logos, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity. Through his assumption of human nature, human existence was restored, enabling human beings, the fulfilment of creation, through participation in divinity by incorporation into Jesus Christ.

  St. Athanasius:

The Word of God came in His own Person, because it was He alone, the Image of the Father, Who could recreate man made after the Image. In order to effect this re-creation, however, He had first to do away with death and corruption. Therefore He assumed a human body, in order that in it death might once and for all be destroyed, and that men might be renewed according to the Image [of God].^[14]

Salvation, or "being saved," therefore, refers to this process of being saved from death and corruption and the fate of hell. The Orthodox Church believes that its teachings and practices represent the true path to participation in the gifts of God. Yet, it should be understood that the Orthodox do not believe that you must be Orthodox to participate in salvation. God is merciful to all (emph. mine).

The Orthodox believe that there is nothing that a person (Orthodox or non-Orthodox) can do to earn salvation. It is rather a gift from God. However, this gift of relationship has to be accepted by the believer, since God will not force salvation on humanity (emph mine). Man is free to reject the gift of salvation continually offered by God. To be saved, man must work together with God in a synergeia whereby his entire being, including his will, effort and actions, are perfectly conformed with, and united to, the divine.

When I first learned this, my whole being said, "Yes." This is the truth. This is consistent with everything that I understand about God from my own experience as a living, breathing person.

So, everything about Orthodoxy is meant to prepare us for God's presence, so that we can experience it  pleasantly, as peace and joy.

Now, Orthodoxy, to the western mind, can seem very strange and foreign. I would even go so far as to say it can be a culture shock. Not just the theology, but also the worship itself. Last week, we went out to dinner with some Orthodox friends who are both former Latter-Day Saints. The husband converted before the wife did, and she went through the process of converting while they were courting. He said to her at one point, "We don't go to church to learn. We go to worship."

And that is absolutely the best way to think of it.

When you walk into an Orthodox service, you are stepping into a heavenly stream of worship that is continuously occurring in heaven, without beginning and without end. We just participate in small moments of it. We step into the stream-- the worship is a living thing-- and when we step out of it, the worship continues, just as a stream of water continues to flow and exist beyond our experience of it.

When we are at home, we also participate in this stream. We stand in front of our icon corners to pray. We have our eyes open, and we pray out loud, ancient prayers, the same prayers every day. We join the stream, just as we do standing at church in front of and surrounded by icons of saints, which represent the saints who are very much alive in a realm we cannot see in our human state.

My First Introduction to Orthodoxy and how I found it a second time (before a third and a fourth)

10/7/19

In about 2004, I discovered Orthodox Christian icons in the form of a calendar. At the time I had no idea what they were. I was just dumbstruck by their beauty and drawn to them. I started by taking images from the calendar and putting them up on my dining room wall in a frame. Then, I started buying icons on Ebay. Then I found out that a friend of mine was Orthodox, and she would take my icons with her 90 miles to her parish and have them blessed on the altar. I put them in the windows of my dining room. Icons are the windows into heaven. I didn't know that at the time, but later I appreciated my instinct to put them in the windows. Mostly, I just didn't have anything to affix them to the walls with, so that seemed the easiest way to display them. 

I was raised in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (The Mormons). I can't really say that that was because of my parents, either, as they were inactive until I basically dragged them back to church. 

I had a strong yearning for God from a very young age, which prompted me to ask a lot of questions and ultimately to want to go to church. I suppose Mormonism was it because my parents has both been raised Mormon. And I liked Donny and Marie Osmond (I know, that dates me!). 

After I left the Mormon Church, I did some reading to try to understand what Christianity is. I got a hold of Kallistos Ware's book The Orthodox Way, but I think it was too much for me to try to understand on my own without someone to help me unpack it. Christianity and Mormonism are sufficiently different that Christianity seemed strange to me at first, and I had a hard time understanding it. Learning about it has been a long journey, and has included a lot of reading, conversations, scripture study, prayer, and reflection. And as a result of that journey, Orthodoxy again and again has been what calls to me and where I end up. 

When I first started learning about Orthodoxy, I didn't have a lot of support for it at home. The parish was 90 miles away, and it seemed too daunting to pursue. I visited the parish a couple of times, bought an icon and chotki at the bookstore, and that was about it. I remember the priest swinging the incense censer down the center of the church and standing a lot, but I don't remember much else. 

For a long time, my spiritual life was dormant. I still collected icons, and added crosses to the collection, but I didn't give it much thought beyond the aesthetic. 

All of that changed when I met my husband, Darren, nearly four years ago. After several months of reading scripture with him and praying, my yearning for God started to wake up and I identified as a Christian (much to my horror, having believed for several years that Christianity was responsible for most of the world's ills, but I have reconciled my beliefs since then). 

Since then, Darren and I have been on a journey together to find a spiritual home. It hasn't been easy. We first attended an Episcopal Church in Missouri, where we were living at the time. We liked it, but we didn't continue attending. We were watching an online preacher who taught the Bible verse by verse, and we were content to stay home and watch that. 

We moved to Utah, for various reasons, nearly three-and-a-half years go. And that's when the journey started twisting and turning. 

Our first year in Utah, we attended a small Bible church in a small town. It was an easy decision: It was the only Christian church in town that wasn't heavily Baptist (my husband was raised in a small, Baptist cult, so that was NOT an option) or Catholic (no English). However, we didn't love the parish. We liked a few people from the parish and joined (for awhile) a Bible study that we really enjoyed until they started introducing commentary from John Piper. John Piper is a Calvinist, and we don't subscribe to Calvinism in any way, shape, or form. So we broke from the group. 

Around this time, Darren bought a Book of Common Prayer and talked about wanting to investigate the Episcopal Church. I must be a firm believer in running before walking, because I said, "Well, why don't you just go back to the beginning and learn about Orthodox Christianity?"

I think he said something about it being just like Catholicism, and it turned out that I didn't really know all that much about it except for the icons (and I didn't know the history of them or why the Orthodox have them or about saints or venerating, certainly), so I really had no idea what I had just recommended. It makes me laugh a little now. 

So, before we had quite left our Bible Study, we started googling the Orthodox Church. Darren said at the time, "Don't tell anyone from Group that we're doing this. They will vilify us." 

At the time, I didn't understand that at all. I thought, "Why would they mind? Wouldn't they be happy that we're still Christians?" 

I understand so much more now. And I have watched Evangelical Christians chew up and spit people out who dared to choose Orthodoxy or Judaism over non-denominational (or Baptist or Calvinist) forms of worship. I call non-denom and Calvinism "worship" very loosely. But I can still see the effect that the Evangelical Protestant (EP) worldview had on our journey to Orthodoxy, and I will discuss that in another post. 

Returning to Orthodoxy

10/2/19

It’s funny because I took this list home and read it out loud to Darren last week, and we kind of chuckled over it. We were like, “Really? This seemed like a huge deal? This was insurmountable?” Because I wouldn’t say that any of these things are problems for either of us now.

One thing that is very different this time from all of the others is that Darren is really leading the charge on this. All of his hesitation is gone. He keeps saying, “I would be baptized tomorrow.” His plan is for us to be baptized at Pascha (Easter, which is a week later than Easter in the West).

Yesterday morning, he led prayers in front of the Icons. We are easing our way into Orthodox practice this time. We say prayers in bed or the car sometimes. Though, when I was at church for the first time after going back, during liturgy, I realized why we pray in front of the icons at home. Because we stand and pray in front of icons at church. In fact, there are icons in front of us and painted on the walls all around us, and there is a huge one of Christ on the ceiling. We are surrounded by saints. And I think it’s important to note that worship services on earth—Vespers, orthos (the prayers said the hour before liturgy), liturgy, etc., are all continuations of the worship that is continually happening in heaven.

We (by we I mean “Orthodox”—Darren and I can’t yet receive it because we are catechumen, not baptized Orthodox) receive the Eucharist every week because every week, we celebrate Easter again and again. Every liturgy is a celebration of the Risen Christ, and we remember him as He commanded, with the Eucharist.

The warm reception we have received from everyone has been very moving. We were standing at Vespers and Father Paul came up behind us and we just felt his arms around us as he hugged us. And he just said, “How are you? It’s so good to see you. Are you well?”

And then on Sunday at liturgy, a woman came up to me and said, “Jen, how are you? It’s so good to see you!” I was sitting on a bench, and she said, “How is Darren?” and I pointed to him standing behind her and said, “He’s right there.” And she hugged him too. Then her husband came over and hugged us both.

During the liturgy, there is a special blessing for the Catechumen. Becoming Catechumen is akin to being engaged to the Church. So, we didn’t know if, after so long an absence, we were still considered Catechumen. We didn’t go up at first when they made the call. And the husband clasped Darren on the shoulder and said, “Go up!”

Darren said, “We can’t!”

And the husband said, “Yes you can. Constantinople was Catechumen until he was on his death bed. Once you are Catechumen, you remain until you die or are baptized.” I am paraphrasing. But we went up with the other Catechumen and received the blessing.

After liturgy, we were downstairs for the Agape meal, and Father Paul said that when we came up for the blessing, he almost didn’t get through saying it. But then he told himself (and this is a frequent joke he makes), “It’s okay. You’re German. You can do this.”

Last Sunday, Darren was following Father Paul into the bookstore and into his office, getting lists of books to read, and he mentioned that we would like to be baptized at Pascha, and Father Paul didn’t seem to think that was a problem. Some people have even hinted that Father Justin might let us be baptized before then, because sometimes they have such a huge crush of people getting baptized at Pascha that it makes for a very long ceremony.

Father Justin is in Greece with his two oldest sons. They went to Mt. Athos, home of a very old Orthodox monastery. Apparently, the Virgin Mary visited there, and afterwards, they decided never to let another woman visit the island, because none would be as holy as Virgin Mary. But that doesn’t explain why they let men go there. I admit that I would love to go there, but I am not allowed. Given that I would probably not be able to afford the trip, though, it’s hard to get too bent out of shape about it.

Women are also not allowed back in the area where the priests prepare the Eucharist and say hundreds of prayers before Orthos has even started. Women are not allowed to be priests or Deacons either. And I know it’s not very progressive or feminist of me, but I am okay with all of this. To tell you the truth, I was never completely comfortable with female priests in the Episcopal Church. I know that isn’t a very popular position to have, but it’s the truth. I know that there are different interpretations of scripture, but that’s kind of the point, right? Anyone can interpret the scriptures to mean whatever they want. And I am making a choice to interpret them through the lens of Orthodoxy.

The Episcopalians make jokes about “chilly Episcopalians,” but we haven’t really experienced that. But even after attending the church on and off for over a year, people still asked us if we were new. We walked back into the Orthodox Church, and only people who hadn’t been there a year and a half ago think we are new. Everyone else recognized us, even if they didn’t know (remember) our names. 

There are a number of reasons for this, probably. We went to coffee hour every week at the Episcopal Church, but we always sat with the same people. And sat with them during liturgy too. In the Orthodox Church, you’re standing and so you can see everyone better. Plus, the Catechumens go up to the front every week, so everyone sees who they are. Also, the whole parish goes to the Agape meal, so it’s a noisy crush, and you can’t really sit with the same people every week. So you meet new people all the time. Not many people go to coffee hour, and if people are sitting behind you at the Episcopal church, they aren’t going to see you. They do have frequent potluck dinners, but even the classes they have before church and on Wednesday evenings have maybe ten people at most, and they tend to be the same people over and over. This makes getting to know a variety of people in the parish difficult. 

Leaving Orthodoxy

9/25/19

Here is a list of the reasons I wrote to my son when we left Orthodoxy a year and a half ago. I’ll use this as a starting point.

 1)      The Church says it isn’t legalistic—but there is the fasting. And you’re supposed to pray twice a day at home—reading prayers from a prayer book. And Saturday, the priest said at Catechumen class that if we went to another church’s service—a baptism, for example—we they would be committing spiritual adultery. And if we went to a non-Orthodox funeral, we were to stand in the back and repeat the Jesus Prayer (they wear prayer beads and repeat this prayer to focus their minds: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Have mercy on me, a sinner). That’s pretty controlling. And Darren has had very bad experiences with religion in his childhood, so control doesn’t sit well with him at all. It actually triggers trauma.
2)      There is a heavy emphasis on venerating (kissing) icons (pictures of saints) in and out of church. They want you to pray to the icons to ask Christ to help you. That doesn’t really make much sense to us, but to them, the saints are alive, just in a different… dimension, I guess. But present—they are aware of us, we just aren’t aware of them. And there is an even heavier emphasis on choosing a patron saint, learning about saints’ lives, and wow, they really revere Mary. They frequently pray for her to pray to Christ to intervene for them. Like, constantly, in fact. “Oh Holy Theotokos, Save us.” And mainstream Christianity is VERY Christ-centered. It’s Christ, and He is ENOUGH. A lot of EPs (Evangelical Protestants) don’t view Catholics or Orthodox as Christians and think they worship Mary and Saints as idols. But I have noticed that all denominations like to throw around the word “heretic.” So, at any rate, this all feels very extra. As Darren said, “I hear more about saints at church than I do about Christ.” [This seems to depend on the liturgical cycle, because I haven't found this at all in the past few weeks] (And in the Mormon Church, we used to say, “I hear more about Joseph Smith at church than I do about Christ,” so it’s like a similar stripe).  So, that’s troublesome. It seems unnecessary. And it distracts people from reading the Bible, which leads me to
3)      They don’t want you to read and interpret the Bible on your own. (Mormons don’t either—they say the Bible is not translated correctly and want members to read the Book of Mormon instead. Because the New Testament very clearly contradicts Mormonism). The Orthodox like to say that personal interpretation of the Bible has led to more than 19,000 different Christian denominations. So, they really want you to read about saints’ lives or read the Church Fathers and go to a Bible study with your priest there to guide the interpretation. And to mainstream Christians, this is very suspect, because the emphasis should be on the Bible, and everyone has their own agency to interpret it. A lot of Protestants are Sola Scriptura (the Bible is perfect the way it is because the Holy Spirit covers for any imperfections, and you can’t add to it, because it says not to). Darren and I are NOT Sola Scriptura. And the Orthodox would counter that they actually chose which books should be included in the Bible, which is true. But it’s all kind of hard to swallow when you’ve been steeped in a western mindset, which obviously, we have.
4)      They say in their Creed, “I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins.” Does this mean they think everyone else is going to hell? Well, they won’t really give you a straight answer to that, and we don’t believe that’s the case. For example, you and your brothers are not religious or Christians, but I don’t think you’re going to hell. (And a lot of Christians would consider me to be a heretic because I hold that view, but I don’t care).
5)      They believe that when they bless their communion wine and bread that it LITERALLY turns into the blood and body of Christ. We think that when Christ broke bread and gave it to His disciples saying, “This is my body,” that he was being metaphorical. But they will actually give communion (they call it the Eucharist) to a sleeping baby two months old. That doesn’t bother me so much as fascinate me, but it bothers Darren. He thinks it’s ridiculous. And, frankly, it is a little. I haven’t entered so deeply into the faith that I really understand it or see how the Orthodox view it.
6)      The Orthodox want you to really surrender to the authority of the Church, and it’s very difficult to do. I don’t want to ask my priest to give me a blessing if I change jobs or if I want to take my medications in the morning before Eucharist so I need to drink some water and have a bit of toast. They also emphasize regular confession, which is also problematic because basically you’re telling all of your secrets to a person who puts on their pants one leg at a time just like you do. And if God already knows… well… it seems controlling. They have a strong emphasis on humility, which is all very well and good, but not if you surrender your brain completely. If you aren’t using your free will, then is it really free will?
7)      The Orthodox take baptism very seriously. Like a marriage. As catechumen, they view us to be engaged to the church. And they view the church as inseparable from Christ. We don’t. So, they don’t want you to enter into baptism unless you’re ready to commit to the church for life—on their terms. And so, we really couldn’t go forward. But it took a lot of conversations to really kind of tease all this out and identify the issues. It has taken several days of reflection to be able to lay this out this way.

Darren and I revisited this when we decided a few weeks ago to return to the Orthodox Church, and this list, which seemed very ominous and serious 18 months ago, was almost comical to us now. We had a sense of, "Really? That was a problem? An insurmountable problem?" 

I think my opinions on this have changed in the following way (and I can’t speak for Darren, but we’ve talked about it and I think he would agree). I wanted to be Orthodox so badly before that I felt like I had to do all of it, 100% the way I was told. To assimilate and really be it. But I have read a lot of writing by my friend Rivki who converted to Orthodox Judaism. And she really tried to assimilate at first, to fit in. But now she sees how she can retain her own individuality and still be true to her beliefs.

One of our objections to the “rules” or things you’re supposed to do in Orthodoxy a couple of years ago is that we were still heavily under the evangelical umbrella of “grace is not, cannot be earned.” And I think the Orthodox agree with that. We were also under the evangelical umbrella of “Jesus came to satisfy the law. Jews live under the law, but Jesus commands only to love God and Love our neighbor and love our enemies.”

I still believe those things.

But Christ’s light can both burn and sanctify or it can enlighten and comfort. It depends on how much you want and love the light. The church’s purpose is to accustom us to the light in this life so it won’t burn us later. It’s not to get us to follow a bunch of rules that will cause us to be saved.

So, let’s examine this a little more deeply.

I want to state for the record that faith is a choice. Also that participation in a religious organization is also a choice. These are choices I am making because they give my life meaning and joy and focus. I have made different choices and not been satisfied with them, which is why I am making my current choices. So, I am not really interested in addressing the question of, “Why bother at all?” because the answer is, as stated in this paragraph, fairly simple. Because I want to.

This discussion of rules and salvation is absolutely relevant to the question of, “Why not Judaism?”

Judaism is very attractive for many of the same reasons Orthodox Christianity is:

·         It is ancient. It’s even older than Orthodoxy.

·         Observant members of the religion really live it every day. It has a prominent place in their lives. And I want that for my life. I said to my husband a few weeks ago:

"This sums up my attraction to Orthodoxy (from my friend Rivki's blog): 'Once that realization crystallized in my mind, I knew I wanted to be surrounded by others who were also trying to observe everything. This religion thing was going to be front and center with me, all the time, and I didn't want to feel like an outlier. I needed to find a community where that would be normal, even preferable.'" 

Orthodoxy and Judaism are both very participatory. But with different purposes. Judaism has 613 rules to follow from the Torah. They are the covenant people, and keeping those commandments is very important to keeping Judaism alive. So is tradition.

With Orthodox Christians, it’s more like this:

There are three specific objectives (I am using a term from grant writing—these are actually commandments):

1.      Love God

2.      Love neighbor

3.      Love enemies

And how are we to achieve these objectives? Here are some things that have worked for thousands of years for other people.

·         Daily prayer, morning, afternoon, evening.

·         Fasting and feasting.

·         Learning about the lives of people who have achieved these objectives or died trying (Saints) and celebrating their lives. (This addresses our objection to number 2 above).

·         Celebrating the Eucharist every week. Participating in the worship that is always ongoing in Heaven. (see number 5 above)

·         Confession as a means to try to improve in either loving God or loving neighbor or loving enemy because “sin” is turning away from God. And usually falls under failure to do one of those three things (so says I). (See number 6 above)