Transposzing

Christ is Born!

2011-12-25T08:06:00.001-06:00

He who holds the whole creation in the hollow of His hand today is born of the Virgin.
He whom in essence none can touch is wrapped in swaddling clothes as a mortal.
God who in the beginning founded the heavens lies in a manger.
He who rained manna down on the people in the wilderness is fed on milk from His Mother’s breast.
He who is the Bridegroom of the Church calls unto Himself the Magi.
The Son of the Virgin accepts their gifts.
We worship Thy birth, O Christ.
Show us also Thy divine Theophany.

-The Eve of the Nativity, from the hymns of the Ninth Hour

Memory Eternal

2011-12-18T19:22:00.004-06:00

We said memorial prayers at Vespers last night for Archbishop Job, who died two years ago today. He is greatly missed in our diocese.

Wangerin Gets It Right

2011-09-30T07:35:00.001-05:00

right here.

Psalm 130

2011-09-20T09:45:00.002-05:00

While on my way to work the other day, I listened to a recording I have heard a hundred gazillion times, John Rutter's Requiem. The whole work is beautiful, but on that particular day, this musical movement and even the Psalm itself came to my ears as if I'd never heard it before.

Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord:

Lord, hear my voice.

O let thine ears consider well:

the voice of my complaint.

If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss:

O Lord, who may abide it?

For there is mercy with thee:

therefore shalt thou be feared.

I look for the Lord; my soul doth wait for him:

and in his word is my trust.

My soul fleeth unto the Lord:

before the morning watch,

I say, before the morning watch.

O Israel, trust in the Lord,

for with the Lord there is mercy:

and with him is plenteous redemption.

And he shall redeem Israel: from all his sins.

Also fascinating to hear this brief presentation by the composer about his arrangement of this Psalm:

A Thought on 9/11/11

2011-09-11T16:27:00.005-05:00

While I was glad that we remembered in prayer at church today those who died ten years ago at the hands of religious fanatics, the families of those who died, and those who were wounded in that incident, it made me a little sad that we did not also pray for those non-American innocents who have died at our hands since that day, because of that tragedy.

Lord, have mercy ... on them all ... and on us.

Help Wanted

2011-09-03T06:24:00.008-05:00

Two shy, black, 1 year old Australians (Australorps) and one 3 year old, pushy, blonde American (Buff Orpington) seek to add two workers to their diverse, all-girl production operation in the northern metro area of the Twin Cities, MN.
Candidates will be females, 5-7 months old, calm and good-natured, have a sense of humor, and be self-starters. No experience or training necessary. Preference will be given to those candidates who are clean, disease and parasite-free, well-groomed and in possession of at least most of their feathers.
Compensation includes board and room in semi-private, clean, dry, apartment for one month, then board and room in a shared, comfortable NS, ND house with small yard for life.
Sorry, no roosters.

We are interviewing a couple of promising candidates from Cannon Falls this afternoon.

So We Built It!

2011-08-21T07:45:00.005-05:00

Well, actually my brother built it. I just spent the morning holding "this," handing him "that," and finding his pencil, which he couldn't ever find when he set it down. But all in all, I'd say he did a very respectable job and this should provide a fine home for a couple of new girls for a month. All we have to do is find a couple of residents.

If You Build It

2011-08-18T06:23:00.008-05:00

... they will come.

We lost our older two red hens, Ruby and Lucy, during this past year. They were wonderful, sweet, hard-working girls. We rather miss their very sweet little chicken personalities, but truthfully, what we miss the most are the eggs. Our three remaining hens are laying and all, but just not as aggressively as those one-egg-each-day red hens.

Seems Betty and LoisandMarge (still can't tell them apart) have been s-l-o-w this summer. And in a way, who can blame them? This summer's long spells of hot, hot, hot weather, horribly humid weather, and rainy weather haven't exactly made it great to be a chicken in Minnesota. So these days we are getting, oh, an egg or so a day. Sometimes even two! More often we get zero.

Betty is 3 years old, and so we don't expect a lot from her (egg-laying slows down considerably after age 2). But LoisandMarge, just over one year old, are in their laying prime and should be giving us at least 4-5 eggs a week each. They're not. All three of them seem to be very happy and healthy, so we are not sure what the deal is. What we are sure of is that we'd like to be getting a few more eggs. And the only way to achieve this is to beef up our flock a bit.

We've started with chicks the last couple of times we added to our flock. Chickies are beyond cute and all, but they are labor-intensive. And the 22-24 weeks you have to wait for them to mature and start laying turn out to be some of the longest weeks of your life. So this time I'm looking for a couple of pullets, at or near point-of-lay.

Step one: Seems there are a few pullets to be had fairly locally on Craigslist. But all chicken owners know that the answer to the age-old question of which came first, the chicken or the egg is neither: it's the coop. We already have a fine, spacious coop and run, but all new chickens must be quarantined for 30 days before assimilation. So adding a couple of hens means providing temporary housing for them for a month. So ...

Step two: Attempt to build one weatherproof chicken tractor. Items needed: scrap wood, chicken wire or hardware cloth, and the building skills of one brother.

If we are successful at step two, we can go back and pursue step one.

Stay tuned.

You Gotta Have a Hook

2011-08-13T08:24:00.007-05:00

It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I don't like church marketing.

Marketing the church (trying to make it into something attractive for those who are not in it) is, as I have noted elsewhere, trying to sell something that's not for sale. And in many (if not most) cases, these marketing strategies direct us to all the things not needful.

Most church bodies market themselves these days,it seems. As east-coast American folk singer Jon Gailmore once sang, "You gotta have a hook to have a hit." And it seems the "hook" is different for different church bodies. Catholics tend to use guilt as their hook to get folks to come to church (hardly effective in this day and age if you ask me). Evangelicals tend to use "relevance" as their hook. Lutherans like the "Word alone" approach - which as far as I've ever been able to tell is not even Scriptural, funny enough. It seems that the Orthodox gravitate toward either sappy emotionalism or bookish fantasy/mysticism hooks (among other things).

But at least the Episcopalians call it what it is: The Church Ad Project. Anyone who has worked for any Christian church for 25 years knows that they make the best use of witty and clever pop-advertising (though who uses posters anymore? I can only hope that these days they've moved from posters to email ads or at least something people actually see). I still look at their catalogs every once in awhile for a good laugh. But in a way, that's precisely the point - and precisely the problem.

I don't do much blog-reading anymore (or blogging, either, for that matter), but having awakened way too early this morning, I thought I'd have a look at a couple of blogs I haven't visited in awhile - including this one. And I must say that I loved his post about kitchy church signs, most notably, this comment:

"If Jesus were to appear before you in all His glory, you would not greet Him in a relaxed manner. You would not call Him your Homeboy. You would not point to Him and say "there's my co-pilot." And you would not try to make him laugh by exercising some terrible pun as His majesty shone around you.

Instead, you would fall on your face and wet your pants. Because our God is a consuming fire."

Exactly. And if the church - any church - were really honest, that's the sort of thing they'd put on their church signs.

But I'm guessing that's not going to happen any time soon.

Thank you, Pastor Feine, for this reflection (and the entertaining little vid!).

Dog(less) Days

2011-07-04T06:56:00.012-05:00

We lost our family dog about a month ago.

Ollie had a nice long life with the Transposzing family - some 12 years - and while it was not as long a life as the farm collie I had growing up, his was a much better life than she had. Collies are caregivers and my childhood farm collie lived as an outside dog in Minnesota, (that alone is a difficult life) caring for 8 kids on two acres of property. In addition to keeping track of me and my siblings, she had a litter of puppies almost every year for much of her life. Once my siblings and I were old enough to be in school, she would go over to our church just a couple of blocks away (where we caught the school bus) and hang out there most days, serving as a greeter for the staff and weekday church office visitors until we came home from school. And she did this for many years.

Our Ollie, on the other hand, lived inside the house with us, never had to endure a very cold day outside in the winter, enjoyed the indoor air conditioning on warm summer days (which we often turned on just for him, especially in his golden years). He was the mellowest and lowest maintenance dog ever. He never left the yard except on a leash, never had an accident in the house, never chased cars, never even barked (except when my sister came over, and even then only after she invited him to play, which she did at every visit), never chewed on anything, was wonderful and attentive company to the cats, never hurt the chickens or any other living thing, and just generally seemed to be happiest when he could be under the feet of his humans where ever they were. He was completely trustworthy in every respect and was a very easy dog to own. Predictable, polite, and a neighborhood sweetheart. Not only was he spoiled, but we got spoiled, too.

Ollie started slowing down a couple of years ago - which worked out sort of well for us, as we are starting to slow down a bit, too. Simply getting up after lying down had become a chore for him, and many nights he was not interested in going for a walk anymore. In his last weeks he'd developed a terrible wet cough, which sounded to me like congestive heart failure. My sister-in-law, (a veterinarian), assured me that it was not and said that in order to properly diagnose him she'd have to do a lot of testing. But she suspected, as we did, he was just failing due to old age. We gave him an antibiotic and let a week go by before asking her to come back and have another look at him, as he was only getting worse, not better. And on her return visit, she said that whatever the cause of his trouble was, she didn't think he would get better. So we decided to put him down (which she did for us here at home, allowing us to avoid that last long trip in the car), before his suffering became acute. It was sad and difficult for us. Only after he was gone did I come to realize what a part of our family he'd become and what a part of our regular routine he was.

So a couple of weeks later, my sister the electrician was on a job site outside somewhere and noticed a neighbor who was at the end of his rope with his adolescent puppy. He was screaming at the pup and was just winding up to backhand him when she hollered over to him to get his attention and direct his attention away from the puppy. She went over to talk to him and calmed him down, giving him her business card. She told him that if the puppy was just too much for him to cope with at this point in his life, he should call her and she'd come and take the puppy off his hands - no judging - and find a good home for him. (she's kind of a saint, really). He called her later that same day. And she went over that same day and picked him up, soon discovering that he was very timid, malnourished and untrained in any way.

Naturally, she thought of us and called to tell me about this puppy. I am, of course, filled with pity just hearing about this poor adolescent pup who had been slapped around and unfed and ignored, so I agreed to at least meet him. I asked her what kind of dog he is and she - deceivingly - said that he was a German Shepherd mix of some sort. One look at him and I knew that wasn't true. "Nice try," I said. "He's a Rott."

And I don't love me a Rottweiler. Any Rottweiler.

I know many people love them and that they have been great family pets for some. I have even met a few who seemed OK. Cesar Milan (an amazing man, really, and sort of a hero in my book) has a special place in his heart for Rotts. No matter - I just don't trust them. (or Dobermans or Pitt Bulls, either). And one who's been abused? I don't think so.

Still, I agreed to meet him and so she brought him over for a visit. And he is cute. And while timid, he seemed very sweet, responsive, and eager to please. But I told her I'm guessing that DearHusband isn't quite ready for a dog yet, and even if he were ready, I'm not sure this puppy would be The One. No worries, she said, we were just the first stop on their tour of dogless friends and she was sure someone would snap him up. She brought him to a potluck at our house the following weekend, where we learned that this puppy doesn't like men (surprise, surprise). At. All. That rather clinched it for DearHusband. Too needy for this family who was spoiled rotten by our last dog, and for whom the bulk of dog responsibility falls on DearHusband.
Happily, another couple from among their dogless friends is adopting him. A happy ending for the puppy.

But I have continued to keep my eyes open, just in case The One is out there and waiting for us somewhere. Perhaps this time we could find a dog who is a little bit smaller (ours is a very small house and Ollie, at 100 pounds, made it seem ALOT smaller than it already is), with a bit less hair (don't even get me started on the hair. It just became a way of life. A way of life which was worth it in every way, but suffice it to say that while we miss Ollie, we don't miss the hair).

I have come to think that it might be the most responsible thing, IF we are going to get another dog, to adopt a rescue. I know that many rescues are a lot of work, like the puppy, but still it seems to make sense to give a good home to a dog who doesn't have one and is less likely to find a home than a cute snuggly puppy. I also know that some rescues aren't much work at all, and easily blend into a new family's life.

Here's one promising candidate from a local agency which fosters and re-homes Golden Retrievers. I suppose she's just one of a million dogs in need of a home right now - and that there will always be others. But still, there's something about this girl that makes me want to meet her.

To say that DearHusband seems unenthusiastic about the prospect of another dog right now would be an understatement. I'm thinking he's not ready.

But who knows? She could be The One.

Maybe if he met her ...

Reason #951 Why I Don't Belong on Facebook

2011-06-09T06:01:00.016-05:00

I saw this silly survey posted by several of my Orthodox friends on FB and was tagged for participation today. I realize that it is meant to be all in fun, yet ironically, there is nothing funny at all about some of the statements which are included. Such things always point to the many things that are NOT needful that folks love to glom onto, it seems. And sometimes it is these non-needful things that seem to become their religion.

I chose not to respond to this on FB, but I will respond to it here (as I did once before with a similar blog-meme) on my own blog because blogs are about opinions and God knows I have them. But nothing is truly black OR white. As my priest once said to me in response to some question I had, "this being Orthodoxy, the answer is yes AND no." So instead of blanket agreement or disagreement with any of the statements, I must have qualifiers (and they are below, in italics).

Stuff like this always reminds me that I don't fit real easily into the stereotypes that American Orthodox Christians - especially converts like me - have created for themselves. But it also reminds me how useless stereotypes are.

According to my survey results, I was either Orthodox before my chrismation, or I am not a very good Orthodox Christian now, I guess. Either way, I'm not losing alot of sleep about it.

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YOU KNOW YOU'RE AN ORTHODOX CHRISTIAN WHEN ...

You are pro-life

I am pro-life when it comes to the decisions I make about my own body and who is living or has lived in it. I am not prepared to make such decisions for other women whose lives and situations I know nothing about. And I cannot support those who think they should be able to make such decisions for other women ... this includes politicians and bishops. Maybe especially politicians and bishops. And I am Orthodox enough to be a little irked that this is the first statement in this survey, as if it a sort of litmus test of one's "Orthodoxy."

You want to venerate icons when you see them

When I see them at church, yes. When I see them outside of church, it depends upon who I am with and how it might affect them.

You instinctively cross yourself in the Orthodox manner

I instinctively make the sign of the cross, but it took a couple of years to consistently get my directions straight without thinking first. (and I'm not sure whether it matters much to God whether I push across or pull across. Maybe it does?)

It's not a scandal to see your priest drinking a beer or a glass of wine.

A scandal? Good grief. It wasn't a scandal to see my pastor drink a beer or a glass of wine or even a cocktail when I was a Lutheran either. I have enjoyed an alcoholic beverage with far more Lutheran pastors than I have with Orthodox priests.

You can follow the Divine Liturgy without a book.

All except for the propers for the day (troparion, kontakion, etc.), yes, I can. But I could do this as a Lutheran, too. It is not a sign that one is Orthodox, it's a sign that one is faithful in worship.

You know "Christ is risen!" in at least 3 languages

I do, yes. But it is a tradition of the church that I don't fully understand. Rather than "connect me" to other Orthodox Christians throughout the world (just little bits of the world are important for this connection, it seems) it rather smacks of phyletism to me - and it makes me uneasy. So my participation in this Paschal custom is fairly half-hearted. Perhaps I will grow into an appreciation of this tradition someday. I'm not there yet.

You've been to a late night (wee morning) Pascha party

I have - but truthfully, most of the time I'd rather skip the party.

It's Constantinople, not Istanbul

Who cares and why?

You go without meat regularly and for long periods but aren't vegetarian.

I try to - and am more successful at it some times than at other times, it seems. But lots of Orthodox Christians don't ... for the record.

Saint Nicholas comes early to your house and Christmas comes later

We've never had a strong St. Nicholas - or Santa Claus - tradition at our house.

The deacon intones, "Let us complete our prayer..." and there's still an hour to go

Yeah, I was on to this years before I was received into the church, as I have said in a similar post before.

You've learned how to avoid hot wax from candles

Is this to imply that I never held a candle at worship before I was Orthodox? Wrong.

You know birth control pills can end a life

I know lots of things can end a life, not just birth control pills.

You develop a new found appreciation for olive oil.

Have always appreciated olive oil - always.

You know "Lord have mercy" in at least 3 languages

Two actually - but I knew the Greek/Latin long before I was Orthodox.

You've heard you worship Mary

No one has ever told me this.

You get used to standing when you'd rather be sitting down.

Actually, I'd rather stand.

You wake up from a nightmare saying the Jesus Prayer

Really? Does anyone honestly do this?

You buy your Easter candy after Easter

I buy Easter candy when it's available.

You've heard you worship pictures

No one has ever told me this, either.

You know your friend's Saint's day

I know some of them. And not all of my Orthodox friends took a saints name when they were received. Neither did I.

You open your mouth as you would at the dentist when receiving communion

Duh.

When you have nothing else to do you say the Jesus Prayer

Right. All Orthodox Christians do.
Actually I watch TV, crochet, or surf the 'net. And judging by what appears on the 'net in most of the Orthocybersphere, so do lots of other Orthodox Christians - for many of them (myself included) it might be better if we did say the Jesus Prayer instead of sitting down at the computer.

When you tell people your religion, they assume that you are Jewish

That's only happened to me once.

You over-indulge on meat and milk chocolate at Easter

I over-indulge on these things almost all year long.

You've had a scare involving a child and fire in your church

I was involved in such a scare when I was a very little Lutheran, but not had such a scare since I've been Orthodox that I can recall.

You cease to worry about punctuality for services and meetings

A former colleague once said that "showing up early is a sign of anxiety; showing up late is a sign of contempt; showing up right on time is a sign of obsessive-compulsive disorder." I'm generally anxious, I guess. If I have enough respect for my employer or my doctor to get to work or to a medical appointment on time, then for me this is a no-brainer.

Someone beside you bends to tie their shoelaces and you touch the floor.

Never. But I do make the sign of the cross sometimes when someone near to me reaches up to scratch their head.

You are used to counting out 40 days, backward and forward on your calendar.

My calendar is color coded...no counting necessary.

You have carpet burns on your forehead by the end of Holy week

Nope. But I usually have sore knees and a sore back. Rug burns are for sloppy prostrators.

You get asked if you're Greek Orthodox or Russian Orthodox

People usually assume I'm Greek Orthodox. At catechism class shortly before I was received, an exuberant woman in the class asked me why I wanted to be Greek Orthodox. I told her that I don't want to be Greek anything, I just want to be an Orthodox Christian.

You know the difference between evangelism and proselitization.

I do, yes. But it's quite plain to me that many Orthodox Christians do not.

You know what FWO means and are happy when you see it

I have no idea what that means and don't know that I've ever seen it. So instead of being happy to see it, I'm just confused.

Americans have never heard of your religion

Generally speaking, Americans don't know anything about anything outside of their own experience. Sad state of affairs, really.

The term "joyful sorrow" makes sense

It does to me. But I don't generally use it among those to whom it doesn't make sense. In fact, I don't use it much at all except in thought.

You think Santa would look better with an omophorion

I think an omophorion would look stupid over the red jacket with white fur trim and wide black belt. And I think there is a really big difference between St. Nicholas and Santa Claus - and I am glad for that difference.

You've gotten your prostration method down to a science.

I have, but my knees seldom cooperate.

A cheeseburger is the best and the worst thing you could eat during lent

I'm thinking steak would be the best/worst. A cheeseburger is one of the worst things you can eat any time of the year.

March madness refers an inexplicable desire for hummus

I've never had an inexplicable desire for hummus. I suspect that hummus is what manna must have tasted like. It just is. Eat it and be grateful. And I am more grateful for some hummus than other, it seems.

Coming to church late is no big deal.

Disagree. For me, it is a big deal ... just ask my kids (see comment above about being late for liturgy and meetings). Every Sunday morning as we are trying to hurry them up so we can get to church on time, I tell them that "being late for liturgy is for cradles." Then they remind me that they ARE cradles ... Oh, yeah. "Well, then you can be late for liturgy when you are grown up cradles."

Thought for Today

2011-05-02T09:19:00.001-05:00

"...the man who thinks with malice of his enemies has not God's love within him, and does not know God. If you will pray for your enemies, peace will come to you; but when you can love your enemies--know that a great measure of the grace of God dwells in you." - St. Silouan.

Upon those who love us, and those who hate us, Lord have mercy.

I may have more to say about this later.
Or I may not.

Reason #802 Why I Don't Belong on Facebook

2011-02-14T10:36:00.005-06:00

Dear Beloved Well-Meaning Christian Facebook Friends,

Valentine's Day (and other Hallmark holidays like Boss' Day, Grandparent's Day, and Administrative Professionals Day) isn't really about Jesus.

It's really about chocolate.

Just for the record.

His Voice

2011-02-11T06:35:00.003-06:00

From an old post, this time with the music.

His voice, as the sound of the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow at his feet,
The air is perfum'd with his breath.
His lips as a fountain of righteousness flow,
That waters the garden of grace,
From which their salvation the people shall know,
And bask in the smile of his face.

Love sits on his eyelids, and scatters delight
Through all the bright mansions on high;
Their faces the cherubim veil in his sight,
And tremble with fullness of joy.
He looks, and ten thousands of angels rejoice,
And myriads wait for his word;
He speaks, and eternity, fill'd with His voice,
Re-echoes the praise of her Lord.

His voice, as the sound of the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow at his feet,
The air is perfum'd with his breath.
O thou in whose presence my soul takes delight,
On whom in affliction I call,
My comfort by day, and my song in the night,
My hope, my salvation, my all.
(adapted by Larry L. Fleming from a text of Joseph Swain, which was adapted from Song of Solomon. The text of the entire poem is here.)

Christ Is Born!

2010-12-25T06:03:00.004-06:00

What shall we offer You, O Christ,
Who for our sakes has appeared on earth as a man?
Every creature made by You offers You thanks:
the Angels offer a hymn;
the heavens, a star;
the Wise Men, gifts;
the shepherds, their wonder;
the earth, its cave;
the wilderness, a manger,
and we offer You a virgin Mother!
O Pre-eternal God, have mercy on us!

Christ is born! Glorify Him!

Merry Christmas to all.

A Misstep

2010-12-16T06:26:00.002-06:00

... in the constant Christian quest for an "authentic" faith:

Theotokion

2010-11-28T13:30:00.003-06:00

Coincidentally cool moment from liturgy today:

Just as we were finishing up singing the Theotokion before communion at liturgy this morning, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud and a ray of sunlight streamed into the window in the altar, reflected off the chalice which was on the altar, and made a very cool spotlight right on the face of the Theotokos in our beautiful platytera (pictured here without the reflection, as I had no camera with me at church today).

I happened to be standing near the back of the church at that moment and thought that perhaps I was the only one who noticed it - but I learned after church that at least a couple of others had, too.

Sort of a nice little blessing ...

Insightful Thoughts on Sadness

2010-11-16T14:24:00.002-06:00

Even though I'm generally a glass-half-full type, I thought this reflection on sadness were quite thought-provoking.

(I'm not so sure, however, that I'd be so quick to make examples only out of those in the Protestant west. Seems I know at least a couple in the non-Protestant east who fit the stereotype he suggests, too.)

Our "Fantasy of Well-Formed Ideas"

2010-10-21T09:34:00.003-05:00

"... To believe the truth is to venture onto the holy ground of reality and not the fantasy of well-formed ideas. On holy ground we remove our shoes and remain silent – giving voice to words of praise letting words possess integrity. It is a very difficult thing indeed."

From a longer post, every word of which is well-worth the read.

Would that bloggers across the Christian spectrum cared more about truth and less about the fantasy of their own well-formed ideas, (and about the importance of publishing these ideas), I might have a renewed interest in reading again some of the blogs I've long ago abandoned.

Lord, have mercy.

Awareness-Raising Rant

2010-10-09T07:46:00.011-05:00

I'm not unaware - and I'm wagering that most sensible Americans are not unaware either.

Today is the third time I saw this post on Facebook (or a post very similar to this):

Okay, folks---I have finally had enough. God doesn't give a flying rats ass who slept with whom last night--what I think really pisses God off is that 30,000 CHILDREN died of malnutrition last night, and most of us are so busy worrying about whose sleeping with who, that we don't give a shit. And what's REALLY pissing God off right now is that many people who are reading this are more shocked by my language than they are that 30,000 CHILDREN DIED LAST NIGHT OF HUNGER! (and, by the way, another 30,000 children will die of hunger tonight).

And many of my well-meaning FB women friends have posted (ad nauseum) a simple line stating "where they like to put their purse" when they come home (intended to be read as a provocative metaphor for where they like to have sex) - or better yet, last year's titilating meme about what color the bra that they are wearing is - all posted in the name of "breast cancer awareness."

Who is not aware that many die of hunger in this country and around the world every day?
Whose life has not been affected in some way by cancer? Who is unaware of it?
And most importantly, what makes well-meaning people feel that they have really done anything to help solve these problems by "raising awareness" of that which everyone is already aware?

As far as I can tell, such memes and posts and "awareness-raising" exercises do absolutely nothing to help anyone who is hungry or who has breast cancer. All such things do is raise awareness of the person who posted it.

Really want to do something concrete to help with the problem of hunger or breast cancer? Put away your righteous indignation and your junior-high-locker-room-mentality fixation on sex and get your wallet out - or step up to the plate to volunteer your time to agencies who are always in need of hands on help. Buy a bag of groceries or two for your local food shelf and bring them there. Contact the American Cancer Society and be a neighborhood door-to-door collector for the cause. Leave the FB "share" button unclicked and the worthless memes without comment and do something real.

The "awareness-raising" blather and sharing is useless and meaningless.

(BTW - my 16 year-old son has one of the wrist bands in the photo above. Think it's because of his great concern for the problem of breast cancer?)

Segregated Peace

2010-08-30T06:26:00.003-05:00

It's now been over a week since I was at the height of frustration with our flock's one year old monarch, and I'm pleased to report that things have settled down considerably out in the yard. I'm not sure why, but I'll take it.

Seems we have reached a stage of relative segregated peace. That is to say that the chicks stay together and together they spend all of their time staying out of the way of the older hens. They are like a couple of shadows darting around in tandem, trying to stay two steps ahead of the other three. And the older hens seem less interested in tormenting them. They seem to have gotten the drift that the chicks aren't going anywhere, so they've resigned themselves to mostly ignoring them now. Oh there's still the occasional nip and peck, but nothing like the constant oppression of their first two weeks together.

And while the chicks spent the first week in the henhouse sleeping WAYYY on the other end of the roost on the opposite side of the house, one day last week they decided that they deserved a spot by the door, too, - it's cooler there - and because they are always the first ones to go to bed, they took over the hens' roosting spot (which I was sure would mean a new kind of trouble). And though the hens loudly protested, they squeezed in right next to the chicks for sleep (Miss Lucy provides and excellent buffer between the chicks and Betty.)

The hours (and I mean hours!) of daybreak squawking is suddenly reduced to 5 or 10 minutes - and with the recent heat and humidity we are thankful for the closed windows and doors of ourselves and our neighbors. Hopefully, we can soon return to squawking only when laying.

The Trouble with Betty

2010-08-21T07:35:00.012-05:00

There was a quiet takeover in our backyard chicken coop sometime early this spring. When spring arrived and the ladies were spending a lot more time in the yard, it soon became obvious that Lucy was no longer our Alpha hen - that position had been assumed by Miss Betty, large and in-charge.

Henhouse dynamics can change over time, but we suspected that the death of Betty's sister was the trigger for the hierarchical upheaval. We lost Wilma early this spring (we suspect it was due to a neighbor's weedkiller overspray on a windy day, which landed the poison on our yard right next to the coop). Whatever the cause, it is now very plain to see that there's a new queen in town - and it seems she's a bit of a tyrant. Whoever said Orpingtons were a docile and quiet breed of chicken has not met our Betty!

Our red hens are getting older and one of them has all but stopped laying. Without Wilma, we were down to only two laying hens. So early this summer, some handy friends added a dormer to our henhouse and we expanded our little flock by adding a couple of young black australorp chicks, LoisandMarge - identical "twins" - (10 weeks old then). And, of course, that's when the trouble started.

We kept them separated for the first month, the chicks having their own small brooder coop and separate run, but once they got fairly close in size to the hens, it was time to put them all together. Integrating new chickens into an existing flock rarely goes off without a hitch, and there is usually a bit of biting and chasing and pecking until everyone finds their place in the henhouse hierarchy. So when we added the younguns to the coop, we expected a bit of trouble, but there has been much. It has been a long week.

The older hens have terrorized the poor chicks all day every day - particularly tyrannical, of course, has been alpha Betty. By Thursday, the chicks had taken to spending their days in the henhouse (where the hens only go to sleep at night and to lay in the morning), depriving themselves of fresh air and sunlight - and food and water - for the sake of security. We intervened and sectioned off a portion of the run, giving them protection from the other hens and access to their own food and water. And for the last couple of days, we have tried leaving them together for awhile, and separating them only when there's a lot of trouble. It seems that the chicks and the older reds get along pretty well when Betty's up in the house, so it's obvious that Betty is the instigator of aggression, and that it's only the crowd mentality which encourages the older hens in that behavior.

But now in these last days, a new problem has emerged - it's the racket. Early in the morning. Very early.

Seems Betty is no longer willing to share the nesting box with anyone else. And she's no longer willing to let anyone into the house when she is laying. So when it's time for her to lay, if there's anyone else in the nesting box, she stands next to the box and squawks - loudly and incessantly - until the box is free (it can take a long time for a hen to lay an egg!). Now I get that when a girl's gotta go a girl's gotta go, but I don't think any amount or increased volume in squawking is going to hasten the amount of time it takes for another hen to lay an egg. And now she also wants her privacy, it seems. If the box is open but the chicks are up in the henhouse, she stands next to the box and squawks - loudly and incessantly - until they go down to the run. But the chicks won't leave the henhouse because they are terrorized in the run. You see where this is going, don't you?

For the last week - beginning at daybreak, Betty has been down in the yard screaming her beak off about something - either someone's in the house when she wants to lay or someone's in the box when she wants to lay. And she just. won't. shut. up. It goes on for a long time, and my going down there and telling her to can it seems to only make it worse. Putting the chicks down into the run helps for about 2 minutes, but that's all, because sometimes she screams and squawks for no apparent reason at all ... just because she can, I guess. Maybe she thinks she is a rooster now.

I'm usually up before 5 anyway, so she's not depriving me of any sleep. But we have neighbors close by, at least one of whom is not at all excited to have 5 chickens living next door. And we also have noise ordinances here in suburbia - which I am sure are being violated. (YoungerSon has been awakened several times this week, coming out into the kitchen at about 6 am all droopy-eyed, saying, "What is her PROBLEM?")

So what to do?

I didn't want to have to do this, but it seems that Miss Betty needs a bit of a timeout. Sometimes when there are such problems, they say that it is best to remove the troublesome hen from the flock for a while, allowing the flock to establish a new hierarchy. Then after awhile, re-integrate the problem girl, who will then be seen by the rest of the flock as someone new, and newbies are always at the bottom of the pecking order (just ask LoisandMarge).

DearHusband says that if it comes to that, perhaps we shouldn't look at it as putting her in solitary confinement (i.e. jail) for awhile as much as giving her a "private suite" for a couple of weeks.

I don't want to rehome her - she's a good layer, only one year old, and drop-dead gorgeous to boot. I'll try putting a second nesting box in the henhouse and give her one more day before we separate her.

Cluck.

Striking a Pose?

2010-06-11T11:35:00.004-05:00

There was a nurse's strike at Twin Cities Minnesota hospitals yesterday. Some twelve thousand nurses from 14 area hospitals walked off their jobs for a planned 24 hour strike. The issue, as I understand it, is patient load. Nurses have to care for too many patients at once and this means less quality care for all patients when nurses are spread too thin, trying to take care of too many at the same time.

The nurses claimed they were striking because they care about their patients, and about what is best for them.

The strike had been planned for some time, hospitals had plenty of time to recruit enough temporary nurses to meet their needs for this one day. And thankfully they did find plenty of nurses from all over the state (and other surrounding areas) to work in local hospitals yesterday.

I guess I'm sort of conflicted about labor unions and strikes and all of that. I see some benefit to having labor unions - for some professions - but ultimately I find myself glad not to be part of one. (I realize that this is also not the politically correct position to take, but really, political correctness is so overrated.)

The strike received extensive coverage on the evening news last night. Several striking nurses were interviewed, all of them saying that they were taking this action solely out of concern for their patients. Still, when the video footage showed the temporary nurses reporting for their one day of work, all of the striking nurses were standing at the buses shouting at them, "Go home, scabs! Shame on you!"

Now I get that the impact of the nurses who walked out was decreased because an adequate number of replacement workers were hired that day to do their work. I understand the desire of the striking nurses to show the hospitals and everyone else how important their work is and how overworked they are. I get all that. But we aren't talking about striking paper manufacturers or striking mechanics here. We are talking about those who care for human beings in frail or even life-threatening condition. So as I watched the news coverage last night I couldn't help but wonder why, if the nurse's primary concern is really the welfare of patients, why they wouldn't be supporting the replacement nurses who were willing to come and care for "their" patients while they were picketing. Someone had to come and care for them. Why weren't they shouting, "Thank God for you!"?

I'm sure the hospital patients were.

An American Tragedy

2010-06-10T14:38:00.003-05:00

... from the mailbag at work today.

Camouflage Watermelon

2010-05-31T18:38:00.005-05:00

In my recent blogging haitus, I've been learning a bit of needlecraft - knitting and crocheting (and finding that crocheting is alot easier and less frustrating!)

I've made lots and lots of scarves and most recently have been working on afghans. My first couple of afghans taught me some important lessons in what not to do when you crochet an afghan.

My first one was made in a variety of blues and greens. Started out with a skein of practice yarn in variegated blue/green. Once I got good and going on it, I thought it was going so well that it seemed a shame to pull it all out just because it was practice, so I just kept adding to it, purchasing a skein of solid colored yard for each of the colors in the variegated pattern, which amounted to 4, if I remember. So when it was all done, it ended up being a big thing with fat stripes in different complimentary colors. And though it all sort of went together color-wise, it needed a little something to tie it all together, so I added a big, fat, navy blue border to the whole thing. In the end it was pretty big, and very, very busy. And because not all of the complimentary yarns were the same brand or kind of yarn, some of it was soft, some of it was stiff, some was heavier or lighter weight. In the end I thought my first big completed afghan was quite ugly - and it was mostly BLUE to boot (and I just don't really like the color blue). But Sis liked it enough to take it home and let it be a functional eyesore in her living room, so I was happy to give it to her. (No photo provided because I really didn't like it enough to take a photo of it before it left the house.)

So when I started my second afghan, I put to use a couple of the lessons I learned from the first one: use all the same brand and weight of yarn, and really, a couple of colors is plenty. So I stocked up on 2 colors I like alot and got busy on afghan number two. The yarn I chose was called "thick and quick," an enticing name for an impatient person like, me! And it was thick, and indeed, pretty quick, too. But the important lesson I learned from this second afghan is to use an appropriate sized hook, because a hook that's too small leads to a VERY dense weave. So even though the second afghan looks pretty good, it weighs about 40 pounds. But it's very, very warm and looks OK on the chair in the living room, so I kept that one, at least for now.

So with all of this knowledge about what NOT to do when crocheting an afghan, I started a third one. This one is for YoungerSon, so I let him pick out the yarn. When I saw the yarn he picked I thought it was very cool - looks like the colors of a watermelon, I thought. But by the time I got a half dozen rows done, I realized that it looks less like a watermelon and more like camouflage (not a patten I'm particularly fond of). Even though I'm not real wild about the pattern, YoungerSon likes it alot, and I guess that's what counts. And the weight seems just about perfect for the yarn.

So I'll keep plugging away, hoping that the third time's the charm.

And From Another Excellent Post

2010-05-26T20:13:00.002-05:00

by iconographer Matthew Garrett:

"... It seems to me that this is precisely why icons are important. One could easily assume that icons are a way of making the invisible visible. But this is not accurate. Icons are allowable, and in fact necessary, precisely because they make the visible visible. In a sense, they operate in much the same way as a microscope or a telescope does. One would be wrong to suggest that a very small cell or a very distant planet was invisible. They are fully visible, they are every bit as real as the things that we see with the naked unassisted eye, but they cannot be perceived without assistance. Icons help us to see what is visible, but not always perceived."

An Excellent Post

2010-05-26T15:34:00.003-05:00

One of the best I've read in a very long time.
From Fr. Stephen Freeman of Glory to God for All Things:

The Church at a Crossroads

This week, canonical Orthodox bishops across North America are meeting in New York to begin conversations towards greater Orthodox unity. Many Orthodox hope for an eventual, single autocephalous Orthodox jurisdiction on the American continent. This may yet be years away. For myself, I rejoice that the conversation has moved to this next level. In light of the meeting, I offer these few thoughts on “ecclesiology” – the doctrine of the Church. It is not the way the ecclesiology of the Church is formally stated – but it seems a worthwhile way to think about the subject.

+++

Writing to the young Timothy (first letter) St. Paul gives this homey admonition:

"These things write I unto thee, hoping to come unto thee shortly: But if I tarry long, that thou mayest know how thou oughtest to behave thyself in the house of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth."

Paul does not then go on to give us several chapters’ explanation of ecclesiology, expounding and unpacking the phrase, “pillar and ground of the truth.” The phrase simply hovers as a statement of fact beckoning the brave to “come up higher.”

Some have done so over the years: most famously in modern times Paul Florensky’s book by that very title - a massive tome of writing by the mathematician/mystic/theologian who is himself often as enigmatic as he is interesting.

Being Orthodox means living with words like “pillar and ground of truth.” Or singing gleefully in a liturgy, “We have seen the True Light, we have found the true faith.” In the wrong hands such words can be dangerous indeed. They are true enough, but such truth can be uttered well only as praise to the Living God, rarely as apologetics or as “war words” in our confused scene of Christianity. Uttered in “battle” (if the little dust-ups that occur hither and yon can be called such) these words take on the fearful character of “that by which we will be judged” (Matthew 12:36).

The insanity of modern American Christianity is the product of sola scriptura, poor or no ecclesiology, and the entrepreneurship of the American spirit. Thus almost every Christian group that exists has something excellent to say about itself (like so many car dealerships). The perfect ratiocination of Reform theology, an Infallible Pope with a Magisterium, or the perfections of an invisible Church (really, how can you discuss an invisible Church?) Even Anglicans, born of divorce and compromise (I know they don’t like to say it like that in Anglican seminaries, but it’s history), can brag about Via Media, or today, “Inclusivity.”

Into this playing field of discussion come the Orthodox. We are familiar with Pillar and Ground of Truth, True Light, True Faith, Fullness, etc., words of excellence and perfection. Of course, as soon as they are uttered, gainsayers will point to everything about us that appears less – and there is so much at which to point (our messy jurisdictionalism, internal arguments, etc.) People who have mastered cut-and-paste functions on their computer can quote concatenations of the fathers proving that our Pillar and Ground of Truth was always sitting in Rome. What’s an Orthodox boy (or girl) to do?

I do not think we give up conversation, but we have to be aware of the nature of our conversation. We utter “Pillar and Ground of Truth,” etc. “in a sacred mystery.” Pulled out of its context (that is the living Church) and placed in argument, the phrase becomes words weakened by every other word we have ever spoken, and particularly the actions we have performed or failed to perform. Such phrases are no less true, but they were never meant as offensive weapons (except perhaps in spiritual warfare).

I would start, as an Orthodox boy, with the fact that everyone who is Orthodox has agreed to “deny himself, take up his cross and follow Christ.” The ecclesiology of the Orthodox Church, the Pillar and Ground of Truth, is found precisely in its weakness and is found there because God wants it that way. If salvation means loving my enemies like God loves His enemies, then I am far better served by my weakness than my excellence. If humility draws the Holy Spirit, then my weakness is far more useful than any excellence I may possess.

The Orthodox Church has perhaps the weakest ecclesiology of all, because it depends, moment by moment, on the love and forgiveness of each by all and of all by each. Either the Bishops of the Church love and forgive each other or the whole thing falls apart. “Brethren, let us love one another, that with one mind we may confess: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” These are the words that introduce the Creed each Sunday, and they are the words that are the bedrock of our ecclesiology.

We live in a wondrous age of the Church. Having suffered terrible blows at the hands of the Bolsheviks, we were smashed into jurisdictions (they don’t really start until the 1920′s), and often turned on one another in our rage. Today, the Bolshevik has been consigned “to the dustbin of history.” Moscow and the Russian Church Outside of Russia are actually reunited. We still have the spectre of a powerful Patriarch of Constantinople bumping into a powerful Patriarch of Moscow here and there, although this week Patriarch Bartholomew is meeting in Moscow with Patriarch Kyrill. We live in interesting times.

But in each and every case the only ecclesiology that will work, that will reveal the Church to be the Pillar and Ground of the Truth will be an ecclesiology of the Cross: mutual forgiveness and abiding in the truth in love. This will be the Church’s boast: that it became like Christ in all ways; or it will have no boast at all.

I rejoice that I am alive in such a time as this. We stand at the edge of an abyss. We can embrace each other in joy and forgiveness or fall into the abyss itself (I trust Christ’s promise to keep us from such a misstep – though He has pulled us out of such places more than once). I rejoice because I don’t want anything other than to be conformed to the image of the crucified Christ. Let everybody else be excellent if they need to be. I need to die.

A Face-Brightener

2010-03-04T18:00:00.007-06:00

Here are a few good thoughts about fasting from the introduction to our recently published church cookbook, written by our priest:

"Jesus did not say 'if you fast', but 'when you fast.' And that means, basically, eating humbly according to a norm set by the church for the day or the season.

The Spirit may always lead members of the church to radical acts of fasting (and don't make the mistake of thinking that modern people are not up to the task ... in our day in the midst of so much indulgence, asceticism is alive ... usually in secret where it belongs). But the 'norms' of fasting are not intended to be radical. They are intended to free us from overwrought preoccupations with what is on the table, and from spiritual self-absorption, by providing us a simple, external guide. Then we can stop fussing over what is on the plate, and get on with the rest of what a fasting season wants us to experience.

So does fasting mean not enjoying food? Far from it. Many of us have been at monasteries in Lent where simplicity of ingredients and moderation in how much you eat are a positive culinary joy, and the gifts of the community's chef are much delighted in..."

And in this note he also encouraged us to enjoy the fast. "After all," he writes, "Jesus taught that when you fast your face should be bright ... and not because you are faking it."

So having come from the supper table this evening with a nice, bright face from a delicious Lenten meal, I'm going to re-post a recipe I posted last Lent. We tweaked it a bit tonight (and by "we" I mean "he") to make it personal-preference-specific. It was a wonderful meal - and a good reminder to me that there is joy in the disciplines of the church.

Here's the link to the recipe.

And here are the Transposzing tweaks:

he eliminated the orange juice and replaced it with vegetable stock (and the ginger flavor just soared!)
he cut the soy sauce from 6 tsp. to 3 tsp. Next time we'll cut it back a bit further yet and add some at the table if we need it.
he gave it a squeeze of fresh lime, which just generally perked everything up a notch.
we threw in a handful of roasted peanuts at the table (which we throw into every stir-fried dish we make)

So if you are observing the lenten fast - go ahead and give it a try!

Great Lent

2010-02-27T06:54:00.001-06:00

It's not about the food.

Wisdom from Bonhoeffer

2010-02-27T06:14:00.003-06:00

Some helpful thoughts on Christian community from Life Together, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer:

"Innumerable times a whole Christian community has broken down because it had sprung from a wish dream. The serious Christian, set down for the first time in a Christian community, is likely to bring with him a very definite idea of what Christian life together should be and to try to realize it. But God's grace speedily shatters such dreams. Just as surely as God desires to lead us to a knowledge of genuine Christian fellowship, so surely must we be overwhelmed by a great disillusionment with others, with Christians in general, and if we are fortunate, with ourselves.

By sheer grace, God will not permit us to live even for a brief period in a dream world. He does not abandon us to those rapturous experiences and lofty moods that come over us like a dream. God is not a God of the emotions but the God of truth. Only that fellowship which faces such disillusionment, with all its unhappy and ugly aspects, begins to be what it should be in God's sight, begins to grasp in faith the promise that is given to it. The sooner this shock of disillusonment comes to an individual and to a community the better for both. A community which cannot bear and cannot survive such a crisis, which insists upon keeping its illusion when it should be shattered, permanently loses in that moment the promise of Christian community. Sooner or later it will collapse. Every human wish dream that is injected into the Christian community is a hindrance to genuine community and must be banished if genuine community is to survive. He who loves his dream of a community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though his personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial.

Because God has already laid the only foundation of our fellowship, because God has bound us together in one body with other Christians in Jesus Christ, long before we entered into common life with them, we enter into that common life not as demanders but as thankful recipients. We thank God for what He has done for us. We thank God for giving us brethren who live by His call, by His forgiveness, and His promise. We do not complain of what God does not give us; we rather thank God for what He does give us daily. And is not what has been given us enough: brothers, who will go on living with us through sin and need under the blessing of His grace? Is the divine gift of Christian fellowship anything less than this, any day, even the most difficult and distressing day? Even when sin and misunderstanding burden the communal life, is not the sinning brother still a brother, with whom I, too, stand under the Word of Christ? Will not his sin be a constant occasion for me to give thanks that both of us may live in the forgiving love of God in Jesus Christ? Thus the very hour of disillusionment with my brother becomes incomparably salutary, because it so thoroughly teaches me that neither of us can ever live by our own words and deeds, but only by that one Word and Deed which really binds us together - the forgiveness of sins in Jesus Christ. When the morning mists of dreams vanish, then dawns the bright day of Christian fellowship."

Never Say Never

2010-02-11T05:42:00.012-06:00

In autumn of 1993 as DearHusband and I were preparing for marriage, his then-priest told this then-good-Lutheran that because their jurisdiction did not permit members to marry outside the faith, if we were to be married then I had to become an Orthodox catechumen (close enough, I guess.)

Not completely ignorant of church history, I knew that a catechumen is one who is preparing for entrance into the church, and I balked. While I loved DearHubandToBe and certainly wanted to be married to him, I told this priest that I had no plans to become an Orthodox Christian. He calmed me by telling me that being a catechumen means simply that I am a learner, one who has set out to learn about the faith. This seemed harmless enough as I hoped to be someone who is always seeking to learn more about the faith. But just to avoid unmet expectations down the road, I remember telling him very plainly, "Just so we are clear - I am fine with becoming a catechumen, but I will never become an Orthodox Christian."

"I'm not asking for promises," he said. "I'm only asking that you remain open to going wherever God leads you."

Fair enough.

And for the next few years, on the occasions we saw this priest, he never mentioned it again.

So today, on the anniversary of my reception into the Orthodox Church, I find myself thankful to God for many things and many people, but I remember especially today this priest, Fr. Bohdan Borody (pictured here years ago with toddler ElderSon who adored him), and am especially thankful for him, too.

And today I also remember that famous adage (not from a church father, I don't think): "Want to make God laugh? Tell him what your life is going to be like in in a few years."

A Must-Serve for Cheesefare Week

2010-02-09T17:00:00.006-06:00

This is one of our very favorite recipes for Cheesefare week! Oh, we have it occasionally at other times, too - but it's one we always try to serve during this week.

Stuffed Pasta Shells
(The recipe USED to be right on the box of pasta, but they changed that recipe long ago. So we're glad we hung on to it!)

1-12 ounce package of jumbo pasta shells, cooked.
1 jar of your favorite prepared spaghetti sauce

Filling:
1-16 ounce container of ricotta cheese
2 eggs, beaten
2 c. shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 c. grated parmesan cheese
1 T. parsley flakes
1 t. seasoned salt
1/4 t. pepper

(We also thaw 1/2 package of frozen spinach, squeeze it dry, and mix in with cheese mixture).

Pour a small amount of sauce into the bottom of a 9x13 pan, and spoon filling ingredients into cooked shells. Place filled shells into the pan on top of the sauce. Pour additional spaghetti sauce (as much as you like) over the top of the shells.

Grate additional mozzarella cheese and sprinkle over the top of shells (Sprinkle additional parmesan cheese over the top, too, if you like).

Cover the pan with foil and bake in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes. Remove the foil and bake an additional 15 minutes or until all is bubbly.

Remove from oven and let sit for a few minutes and serve with (even more!) grated parmesan cheese on top.

Thoughts on Theophany

2010-01-07T06:03:00.006-06:00

Here's a cross-post from May of 2006, from a blog I used to read alot back when it was fairly helpful to me. The blog is somewhat less helpful to me these days, so I read it less often, but I will always be particularly grateful for this post - and I go back to it often.

Much of what is said here was said in a different way to the children of our parish (by the same priest at the same parish he mentions, now my parish) at the Great Blessing of Waters, which was held just prior to church school last night.

12 May 2006
the God for Whom the waters do not part

"... I was attending, off and on, a little Orthodox parish in St. Paul, Holy Trinity. The priest, Father Jonathan Proctor, had been a friend to me over several years, and had seen me through some difficult personal messes and my on again, off again flirtation with Orthodoxy. His place in life at this time was different than mine. He and his wife had just lost a one month old child. When she was born they were told she would not live long. The best series of sermons I have ever heard in my life came from Fr. Jonathan over the course of 2 to three months after the death of his little one. Please do not think me crass for saying this. A sermon is just a sermon. It is not a human life. All decent men would rather have the little girl than the great sermons. Also, please don't think that I suggest that there is a causal relationship between suffering and wisdom. Some suffer for nothing. The death of a human being is always tragic. Nothing good comes from it. Though good may come from the virtues found in suffering through it. But Orthodox are not spiritual pragmatists. Give us the child, we will worry about lessons later. But the fact is that children die, and Christians suffer, and the suffering of one priest bore messages about Christianity which will shape me for the rest of my life.

On a Sunday after Theophany, I heard Fr. Jonathan give a homily that has rarely left my mind since then. I will not go into all the details here, but I will cover the central detail, it goes something like this:

Father Jonathan asked us to consider Jesus' baptism. Consider who Jesus is. We know that He is fully God. We know that He is rightly called prophet, priest, and king. We know that He not only represents, but in a certain sense is the true and holy Israel of God. It should not be lost on us that God's people are now called "the Body of Christ." This Man who is God walks up to the River Jordan. And what happens? What should we expect to happen? Well, a man who is versed in the Old Testament and who also knows Who this Jesus is might have a very reasonable expectation. In the Old Testament when the people of God, the Israel of God, come up to the waters while running from pharaoh, the waters part. In the OT when the prophet of God comes up to the river Jordan, the waters part. In the OT when the ark of the covenant, which was God present to His people, came to the river Jordan, the waters part. This man well versed in the OT, when seeing Jesus come to the waters should have every expectation that they too will part. Jesus is the fullness of the presence of God, He is the fulfillment of all prophecy, He is the true Israel of God, all people of God are in Him. But the waters do not part. Instead, God enters into the chaos and death of the water, and He is covered. With Christ, all bets are off, the rules of the game have changed. God is now not seeking a people for whom to part waters. He is seeking a community of the drowned.

When you enter through baptism and chrismation the Orthodox faith, and are therefore baptized into Christ, do not think that God is in the business of going about separating waters for you. No, this is not the path you have chosen. You have chosen to hold fast to the One for whom the waters do not part. You die with Him, in Him, through Him, as Him, for Him. Orthodox Christianity is the exact opposite of "health and wealth" spiritual economics, which infects not just Pentecostalism, but much of American Christianity. God will heal whom He will, God will allow the deaths of those whom He will, but in a real and certain sense, friends of God, as those who are the dead in Christ, you have given up any right to claim that God must part waters for you. As Bonhoeffer said, "when Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die." A dead man can claim nothing as his own.

The mystery takes us further. That day not only does Jesus come up to the water and the waters stay still to swallow Him up, but it is this very day that for the first time God reveals Himself in His fullness: Father, Son, Holy Spirit to humankind. The threefold nature of the Godhead is revealed to us at the moment in which God reveals Himself as the God for Whom the waters do not part. In the feast of Theophany we learn that God reveals Himself formally and most clearly, in the very midst of human suffering. Indeed, we may even speak with St. Cyril of this mystery of the suffering of the impassible God.

Throughout Christian history so many faithful have been led to seek some sort of magic help potion from God or his agents, or at the very least thought that God would give them a statistical advantage, as if they were a bit more likely to have things go well if God were in their corner. Both are lies. Of course we pray that God bless us, and we have faith that he will. But we may seek blessing in a different spirit when the waters have already passed over our heads. Most Holy Theotokos, joy of all who sorrow, pray for us."

Christ is Born!

2009-12-25T06:11:00.005-06:00

We got a snowstorm for Christmas this year, and it has created all sorts of last minute improvisations and changes in Christmas plans.

Oh, I don't think it will end up being quite as severe as the predictions, but it isn't over yet, so who knows? But it means that our family's celebration is looking a little different this year. Last night's Christmas liturgy was cancelled at our church, and we will not be able to make our annual Christmas Day trip to SW Minnesota (where no travel is advised at the moment). The Transposzing men spent a good chunk of Christmas Eve day moving snow - and they will likely spend a bit of Christmas Day doing the same thing.

Having a bit more time on my hands than I planned to have yesterday, I was able to take care of a few chores at home, and on and off checked Facebook to see how friends were faring with their Christmas celebrations. I was particularly struck by the post of one FB friend, a Lutheran pastor serving in a rural midwestern parish: "I hate shoveling. Street plow didn't come until noon, had to shovel again. Parents couldn't come, hospital call and a death. Merry Christmas."

Despite it's crabby overtones, this post sort of helped to clarify my thoughts about this year's celebration: How great a thing it is that God comes to us, anyway.

God's coming to us in the form of the infant Jesus born in a cave and lying in a feed trough rather rains all over our ideals of what Christmas is supposed to be. It's a good reminder of how distorted some of our ideals have become. The giving and receiving of perfect Christmas gifts, setting the perfect Christmas table, serving the perfect menu to the perfect guest list, and recreating the Christmas celebrations of our youth are not intrinsically bad notions. But it rather changes the focus from what God has done for us at Christmas to what we do at Christmas. And so it seems that sometimes we need a good Christmas snowstorm to shake things up a bit and to help us re-focus.

"Today salvation has come into the world," the Church says. And God's Word Made Flesh comes to us - today - despite our frustrations and our anxieties, and despite our unreadiness and our fears, and despite our disappointments and our failed plans and our cabin fever. God's great gift of Himself has been given to us and for us, anyway.

And that is precisely the point.

Christ is born! Glorify Him!

Memory Eternal

2009-12-18T19:04:00.010-06:00

Folks in the Midwest Diocese of the OCA - and Orthodox Christians all over the country were saddened to learn today of the sudden and unexpected death of our heirarch, Archbishop +Job.

It is suspected that he died of pneumonia, after having been ill all week. He was only 63.

Archbishop Job was well-loved in our diocese and throughout the OCA. He visited my own parish several times in recent years and I regret that I never had the chance to meet him personally. It was an opportunity I sought, but which never presented itself, as I had heard such wonderful things about him. But our boys were each priveleged to serve at Divine Liturgy with him.

May his memory be eternal.

Another Blogger Hangs It Up

2009-12-15T17:48:00.002-06:00

I read with a little sadness this past weekend that blogpal, Dixie, has decided to discontinue her blog. Hers was one of the first convert blogs I discovered a few years ago when I began nosing around seriously into Orthodoxy - long before I could actually envision myself as an Orthodox Christian. It was helpful for me - and it has remained helpful to me in one way or another all this time.

So I want to offer a brief and public word of thanks to Dixie, whose words and work have made a difference to me.

Cold Comfort Coop

2009-12-10T19:42:00.006-06:00

Well, it's really winter in Minnesota now.

After an incredibly warm and wonderful November, reality came blowing in on Tuesday evening. High winds, snow, freezing temperatures - blizzard warnings for areas just south of the metro area where we live.

I've spent lots of time reading online about appropriate accomodations for chickens in the wintertime. We prepared our coop by the book: insulated the henhouse, we wrapped the open bottom open level of the henhouse in plastic, leaving the small pop door open for ventilation, installed a mason-jar light fixture in the lower level of the henhouse, bought a base heater for our galvanized waterer, and stuffed the henhouse with extra straw. According to all of the information I could find, if you do these things your chickens should be just fine in very cold temps.

Still, on Tuesday night when the wind was whistling and the temps were plummeting, I worried about the ladies. DearHusband went down to the henhouse just before bed to check on them. He reported that all was calm and quiet in the henhouse. The girls were all settled in and it was just sort of peaceful in there - warm in comparison to the gusty windchills outside. Today he swapped the 60 watt bulb in the fixture for a 100 watt (because he thought Lucy looked cold).

I just went down and snapped this picture of the ladies in their winter digs. (Miss Betty, giving me the old stink-eye, appears to have gotten the hang of balancing that big old booty on a small roost.) The temp outside is -5 according to the thermometer outside - but +14 according to the thermometer inside the henhouse. With those nice coats of down and feathers, I think they will be just fine.

Scenes From Lefse Day

2009-12-07T19:43:00.014-06:00

An Old Norwegian Lefse Recipe
Yew tak yust ten big potatoes. Den yew cook dem til dar done. Yew add to dis sum sveet cream. And by cups it measures vun. Den yew steal tree ounce of booter, an vit two fingers, pinch sum salt. Yew beat dis werry lightly, if it ain’t goot--it iss yer own fault. Den yew roll dis tin, vit flour. Light brown on stove yew bake. Now call in all Scandihuvians tew try da fine lefse yew make.

We try to make a batch of lefse every year before Christmas. Last year we learned that as much fun as it is to make lefse, it's even more fun to make it with a few friends.

Because December Saturday schedules got filled up pretty quickly this year, Lefse Day became an after-work affair, Lefse Evening - and it was a long one! This year our gathering fell on the night of the first really good snowstorm of the winter. Traffic was bad, the roads were bad, and some forgot stuff at home and it could have been a really crabby event - but it was alot of fun. YoungerSon even got into the lefse action this year, while ElderSon happily attended a hockey game with a buddy instead.

Here are a few photos (cross-posted from FB).

On the Feast of St. Nicholas

2009-12-06T05:47:00.003-06:00

"The truth of things hath revealed thee to thy flock as a rule of faith, an icon of meekness, and a teacher of temperance; therefore, thou hast achieved the heights by humility, riches by poverty. O Father and Hierarch Nicholas, intercede with Christ God that our souls may be saved."

Akathist of Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T06:05:00.003-06:00

The Akathist of Thanksgiving
By Metropolitan Tryphon of Turkestan
Found in effects of Hieromartyr Grigori Petroff (+1942)

Kontakion 1
O King of ages, Who, by the power of Thy salvific providence, holdeth in Thy right hand all the ways of man’s life: I thank Thee for all Thy visible and secret goods, for earthly life and for the heavenly joy of Thy future Kingdom. Pour forth richly Thy grace, in the future as well, on us who sing to Thee: Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Ikos 1
I was born on earth as a feeble and helpless child, but Thy angel, spreading his shiny wings, has sheltered my cradle. From that moment Thy love shines in all my ways and miraculously guides me into the light of eternity. For that my soul lauds Thee and hails Thee with all who know Thee:

Glory to Thee Who hast called me into life.

Glory to Thee Who art revealing to us the beauty of the universe.

Glory to Thee Who art opening to us heaven and earth as an eternal book of wisdom.

Glory to Thy eternity in the passing world.

Glory to Thee for Thy covert and overt mercies.

Glory to Thee for every sigh of my heart.

Glory to Thee for every step of life, / every moment of joy.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 2
O Lord, how good it is for us to be Thy guests! How fine it is for us in Thy world. The fields are fragrant, the mountains rise high up into the sky, and the golden rays of sun and the light clouds are reflected in the water. All nature mysteriously speaks about Thee, all is filled with Thy mercy and all carries the seal of Thy love. Blessed be the earth which, with her short-lasting beauty, awakens the yearning for the eternal homeland in Thy kingdom, where in everlasting beauty resounds the song: Alleluia!

Ikos 2
Thou broughtest me into this life as if into a wonderful garden. I see the sky deep and blue, the birds as they chirp in flight; I listen to the soothing rustle of trees and the sonorous sound of waters; my mouth is enjoying fragrant and succulent fruits. How wonderful it is in Thy world and how joyous it is to be Thy guest!

Glory to Thee for the feast of life!

Glory to Thee for the scents of lilies of the valley and roses.

Glory to Thee for the abundance and multiplicity of earthly fruits.

Glory to Thee for the glistening of morning dew.

Glory to Thee for the joyous smile of dawn / with which Thou dost waken me.

Glory to Thee for eternal life / and the kingdom of heaven.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 3
By the power of the Holy Spirit every flower breathes. Thy breath I feel in the quiet movement of the fragrant fields. Observing the harmony of colors I admire Thee. Wherever I look, I see all around me the beauty of the Great One in the little.Glory and thanks to the life-creating God Who covers the earth with flowery meadows, crowns the fields with golden ears of grain and embellishes them with blue cornflowers, and my soul with the joy of contemplation. Be glad and sing to Him: Alleluia!

Ikos 3
How wonderful Thou art in the beauty of spring when all earth is being rejuvenated and thousands of sounds sing about Thee: Thou art the spring of life, Thou art the conqueror of death! In the pale moonlight with the song of the nightingale, the valleys and forests rest under a snowy white veil. The whole earth, Thy bride, is awaiting Thee, the Eternal Bridegroom. When Thou so clothest the grass of the field, how art Thou to adorn Thy chosen ones when they resurrect in the future age! How will then our bodies shine forth and our souls glitter!

Glory to Thee Who from the dark depths of the earth / bringeth forth so many colors and scents.

Glory to Thee for the beauty of nature.

Glory to Thee Who hast surrounded us / with thousands of Thy creatures.

Glory to Thee for the depth of thy wisdom / whose seal is borne by all creation.

Glory to Thee for the tender feeling / with which I kiss the trace of Thine invisible foot.

Glory to Thee Who hast from the beginning / lit the glowing light of eternal life.

Glory to Thee for the hope in perfect and eternal beauty.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 4
How Thou delightest the hearts of those who meditate upon Thee, O God! Thou feedest their souls with Thy Holy Word. Talking with Thee is better than oil and sweeter than honey. Prayer to God refreshes and invigorates; it fills my heart with joy. How majestic then appears this world and all life. Where Thou art not – all is empty. Where Thou art – there is the richness of the soul.There, as living water, is the everlasting song: Alleluia

Ikos 4
When night falls upon the earth, the stillness of sleep reigns and sounds of the past day become silent; I see the splendor of Thy heavenly mansions. Flame and purple, gold and azure presage the indescribable beauty of Thy home and solemnly call forth: Let us go to the Father!

Glory to Thee in the quiet hours of the evening.

Glory to Thee for pouring forth deep peace on earth.

Glory to Thee for the rays of the setting sun.

Glory to Thee for the rest of a graceful sleep.

Glory to Thee for consolation in the darkness / when the whole world appears far from me.

Glory to Thee for the warm prayer of my tortured soul.

Glory to Thee for the promise that we shall awake in the joy of Thy everlasting day.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 5
The tempest of life does not frighten one in whose heart shines the light of Thy divine Fire. Around me are whirling storms and roaring winds; terror and darkness surround me; but in my soul is peace and light. Christ is in her. And my heart sings: Alleluia!

Ikos 5
I look into Thy sky filled with stars. O how rich Thou art! How much light there is in Thee! Through the light of the distant stars Thou lookest at me from eternity. I am tiny and destitute, but the Lord is with me. His hand is always near me and He leads me with love in all my ways.

Glory to Thee Who continually watcheth over us.

Glory to Thee Who considereth mine every meeting with people.

Glory to Thee for the love of relatives / and the fidelity of friends.

Glory to Thee for the meekness / of the domestic animals who serve me.

Glory to Thee for the bright moments of life.

Glory to Thee for the happiness of living, seeing and feeling.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages.

Kontakion 6
How great Thou art in the whirlwind and the storm! How majestic is Thy hand in the swiftness of the lightning! The voice of the Lord rises above the fields. It rustles through the woods, it roars in the thunder. The voice of the Lord resounds over the waters. Thy might is proclaimed by the fire of the volcano. Thou quakest the earth and liftest the waves of the sea into the sky. Glory to Thee to whom we repentantly cry: Alleluia!

Ikos 6
When swift lightning illumines the night, how pitiful and miserable our earthly candles seem. So also, deceitful earthly joys become colorless and dark when Thy light shines forth in the soul. Wherefore my soul struggles toward Thee and my heart yearns for Thee.

Glory to Thee Who hast planted into man’s heart / an unquenchable thirst for God.

Glory to Thee because nothing earthly / can completely satisfy us.

Glory to Thee Who clothest us in light.

Glory to Thee, the conqueror of the spirits of evil and darkness.

Glory to Thee for Thy revelation, / for the blessedness of feeling Thee and living Thee.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 7
In the harmony of sounds I hear Thy call. In the lofty beauty of music, in the magnificence of artistic works Thou art allowing us to foresee Paradise. Whatever is truly beautiful soars toward Thee and teaches the soul to sing to Thee a victorious song: Alleluia!

Ikos 7
By Thy Holy Spirit Thou inspirest the thought of the artist, the poet and the scientist. By the power of Thy wisdom they prophetically enter into the mysteries of Thy laws and reveal the depth of Thy wisdom. Even their works involuntarily speak about Thee. O how wonderful Thou art in Thy works! O how great Thou art in man!

Glory to Thee Who showest us / Thy might through the laws of the cosmos.

Glory to Thou Who fillest everything.

Glory to Thee Who revealest to us according to Thy mercy.

Glory to Thee Who hidest from us according to Thy wisdom.

Glory to Thee for the depth of the human mind.

Glory to Thee for the creative ability in man.

Glory to Thee for the outpouring of Thy grace.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 8
How close to us Thou art in our days of illness. Thou visitest the patient, Thou descendest to the bed of the sufferer and his heart communeth with Thee. Thou kindlest the soul with peace at the time of sorrow and suffering. Thou sendest unexpected help. Thou art the comforter. Thou art all-knowing love. To Thee I sing: Alleluia!

Ikos 8
When I as a child for the first time appealed to Thee, Thou fulfilled my prayer and lightened my soul with great peace. I understood then that Thou art good and that they are blessed who seek refuge in Thee. Therefore I do not cease to pray to Thee and to call upon Thee.

Glory to Thee Who fulfillest and to good purpose completes my wishes.

Glory to Thee Who watchest over me day and night.

Glory to Thee for the time that is passing / and taking away our sorrows and sadness.

Glory to Thee in whom nothing is lost, / for Thou grantest to all life eternal.

Glory to Thee Who promised us / desired meetings with our deceased ones.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 9
Why is all nature so mysteriously smiling in the days of the feasts? Why then is our soul so light and joyous? Why does the air in the temple seem so bright? It is all because of the flow of Thy grace, because of the reflection of the light of Tabor. Heaven and earth are then singing together a laudable song: Alleluia!

Ikos 9
When Thou inspirest me to serve my neighbors and enlightenest my soul with humbleness, then the rays of Thy light fall on my heart and it begins to radiate and shine. As the sun in the waters, so in those moments in my soul is reflected Thy infinite meekness, full of love and the unspeakable peace of Thy radiant countenance.

Glory to Thee Who through good deeds transformeth our lives.

Glory to Thee Who hast sealed with unspeakable sweetness / every commandment of Thine.

Glory to Thee Who art invisibly present in the works of mercy.

Glory to Thee Who sendest upon us troubles and sorrows / in order to teach us to commiserate in the suffering of others.

Glory to Thee for the love / which Thou hast raised above everything on earth and in heaven.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 10
Whatever is destroyed cannot be restored. But Thou revivest those whose conscience is dead and returnest pristine beauty to the souls who lost it. Through Thy mercifulness all is possible. Thou art Love, Thou art the Creator and Restorer. Thee I praise with song: Alleluia!

Ikos 10
O my God, Thou who knowest that the angel of pride, the Morning Star, hast fallen from Thee, do not let me doubt nor depart from Thee. Sharpen my hearing so that I will always listen to Thy mysterious voice and call upon Thee, Who art everywhere present.

Glory to Thee Who all-wisely governest my life.

Glory to Thee for inspired premonition.

Glory to Thee for warnings in a mysterious voice.

Glory to Thee for revelations in dreams and in reality.

Glory to Thee for thwarting my useless intentions.

Glory to Thee because through sufferings Thou liberatest me from passions.

Glory to Thee because Thou humblest my heart / and savest me from pride.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 11
Through all the passed chain of ages I feel the warmth of Thy Holy Spirit and the surging of Divine Life. Thou art near, Time is nonexistent. I see Thy Cross – it is for my sake. My spirit is humbled into dust before Thy love, limitless and incomprehensible. Wherefore, beneath Thy Cross I will unto ages glorify Thee, my Savior, with song: Alleluia!

Ikos 11
Blessed art those who sup with Thee in Thy kingdom. However, blessed art those whom Thou hast already here on earth accepted as partakers of Thy Mystic Supper. How many times, with Thy divine hand, Thou hast allowed me, a sinner, to receive in Holy Communion Thy Body and Blood. And I have received the Holy and felt Thy love, ineffable and wonderful.

Glory to Thee for the incomprehensible and life creating power of grace.

Glory to Thee Who hast founded Thy Church to be for us a quiet harbor.

Glory to Thee Who givest us rebirth through the life-giving water of baptism.

Glory to Thee Who forgivest a sinner who repents / and restorest in him the viceless purity of lilies.

Glory to Thee for a perpetual spring of forgiveness.

Glory to Thee for bread from heaven and the cup of life.

Glory to Thee Who art guiding us into the kingdom of eternal joy.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 12
Many a time I saw the reflection of Thy glory on the faces of the deceased! With what unearthly beauty and joy their faces shine! How transparent and immaterial become their features! With their silence they sing of Thee. When the time of my death cometh, enlighten, O God, my soul as well, to sing to Thee: Alleluia!

Ikos 12
What is my praise before Thee! My ears did not hear the song of cherubims; it is heard only by the souls of the righteous. I know only how nature lauds Thee. I saw in winter, how, lightened by the moonlight and beneath the cover of snow which sparkles with silvery light, all the earth is quietly praying to Thee. I saw how the crimson rays of the rising sun rejoice in Thee and how choirs of birds hum praises to Thee. I listen how mysteriously forests speak of Thee, how winds wing, and brooks murmur Thy name; how, with their fixed movements through limitless space, the myriads of stars preach about Thee. What is my praise before Thee, O Lord! Nature is obedient, and I never cease to sadden Thee. While I live and see Thy love I want to glorify Thee, to pray to Thee and to call upon Thee:

Glory to Thee Who hast shown us the light.

Glory to Thee Who hast loved us with deep, immeasurable, divine love.

Glory to Thee Who protects us / with bright armies of angels and saints.

Glory to Thee, all-holy Father, who art giving us Thy kingdom.

Glory to Thee, O Holy Spirit, the life-giving sun of future ages.

Glory to Thee for all, / Holy Trinity, divine and all good.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages.

Kontakion 13
O all-good and life-giving Trinity, receive our gratefulness for all thy goods and show us worthy of Thine eternal treasures, so that we may multiply the talent entrusted to us, reach Thy kingdom and enter into the joy of our Lord, singing to Him victorious song: Alleluia!(thrice)

And again the first Ikos and Kontakion are read:
Ikos 1
I was born on earth as a feeble and helpless child, but Thy angel, spreading his shiny wings, has sheltered my cradle. From that moment Thy love shines in all my ways and miraculously guides me into the light of eternity. For that my soul lauds Thee and hails Thee with all who know Thee:

Glory to Thee Who hast called me into life.

Glory to Thee Who art revealing to us the beauty of the universe.

Glory to Thee Who art opening to us heaven and earth as an eternal book of wisdom.

Glory to Thy eternity in the passing world.

Glory to Thee for Thy covert and overt mercies.

Glory to Thee for every sigh of my heart.

Glory to Thee for every step of life, / every moment of joy.

Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

Kontakion 1
O King of ages, Who, by the power of Thy salvific providence, holdeth in Thy right hand all the ways of man’s life: I thank Thee for all Thy visible and secret goods, for earthly life and for the heavenly joy of Thy future Kingdom. Pour forth richly Thy grace, in the future as well, on us who sing to Thee:Glory to Thee, O God, in ages!

What He Said

2009-11-06T05:20:00.007-06:00

Another fine post by Fr. Stephen Freeman of Glory to God for All Things (posted yesterday).

I Don’t Know About That
A hermit advised, “If someone speaks to you about a controversy, do not argue with him. If what he says makes sense, say, ‘Yes,’ If his comments are misguided, say, ‘I don’t know anything about that.’ If you refuse to dispute with his ideas, your mind will be at peace.”

There is an element of this story which makes many want to cry out, “Yes, but!” It is a story similar to Christ’s admonition to “turn the other cheek.” And like the instruction to give the cheek – this suggestion of ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ feels like a guaranteed way to allow those who have false ideas to win. And the anxiety it creates, I believe, is the same anxiety. To a degree it is the anxiety of ‘Christian atheism.’

We have an option: either we believe that God is alive and working for our salvation or we believe that God, though alive, is removed from our lives and that we must do all in our power to advance His cause (for it seems He will do little of that Himself).

I am overstating the option on purpose. The second option is overstated to the point of the Grand Inquisitor in The Brothers Karamazov. An anxiety besets us in which we feel that the success or failure of the truth of the faith is dependent upon our actions. We can cite very active saints such as St. Athanasius who tirelessly sought to defend the Orthodox faith and to counter the arguments of the heretic Arius. Or we can even think of St. Nicholas of Myra (today known as ‘Santa Claus’) who at the Council of Nicaea even smote Arius on the cheek for his impious statements (St. Nicholas was disciplined for this but restored at the miraculous intercession of the Mother of God.

I should therefore state that I believe some are called to be like St. Athanasius and some are perhaps even to be like St. Nicholas. But Athanasius is known for his lonely persecutions and exiles – which things we should seek to imitate if we plan to take up his great defenses as well. And St. Nicholas was known primarily for his wonder-working miracles and his extreme charity towards children and even towards convicted felons. Such extreme charity should also mark our lives if we feel called to follow in the apologetic footprints of the kindly saint.

But for many, I fear, it is neither saint that is the model for their vigorous defense of the faith, but rather a certain anxiety, that heresy and ideas opposed to the Orthodox faith will somehow go uncorrected. It is here that we must stop and ask ourselves, “Is the Orthodox faith a set of ideas or a divine reality?” If it is a set of ideas then we’d better get our arguments together and do it soon.

Christ himself said, “…if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight…” But His kingdom is not of this world – it is not among the things that are passing away. It is that which is coming and it will never pass away. Many accompanying aspects of the Kingdom have come and gone and come and gone (I think of the outward trappings of empire and the like). Those things which have come and gone are of this world and should be of no concern to us.

The ability to remain silent even in the face of an invitation to argue is not weakness, but confidence in the truth.

My father-in-law, a wonderful man of God, often met my many arguments with, “Well…I don’t know about that.” It was frustrating for me but also a great learning over time.

The faith has never failed because we lacked good arguments and the will to carry them forward. The faith has failed at points because we failed to believe it. If the Orthodox faith flourishes in this world, at this time, it will be because it flourishes in the lives of those who have embraced it.

We live in a 24/7 news cycle – marked mostly by talking-heads and interminable arguments. Does anyone actually believe that another argument, even when brought by a Christian, will matter?

An argument won’t matter. But a Christian will – precisely because they are so hard to find.

Memory Eternal

2009-11-06T04:50:00.004-06:00

Lutheran church music icon Paul Manz died last week at the age of 90. (Paul is pictured here with his wife, Ruth, who died in 2008.)

For 37 years, Paul served as Cantor at the parish for which I work, and as Cantor Emeritus there for the past seven years. His ministry at Mount Olive served as a sort of springboard for his tireless work to the larger church. Paul taught Lutheran Christians their song - what that song is and how to sing it well. It was my own song for many years, a song which has its own place in my heart and memory, a song I still sing often, along with a newer (actually older, but newer to me) song.

But Paul lives on in the work of those who were his students, in his published works and recordings, and in the memories of those who knew him. He was a great gift of God to the church.

In his last days, Paul's son John kept his family's friends updated on his father's condition while he and his siblings waited with him. In a note written a couple of days before Paul died, (which someone published a week ago on Facebook even!) John wrote - quoting Lutheran theologian Martin Marty - “Let him fall asleep now. God will wake him up.”

Surely God will wake him up. And I hope to be there when He does.

Top Ten Signs

2009-10-01T06:52:00.002-05:00

DearHusband forwarded this laugh to me some time ago. It was originally posted somewhere by Al Green (I've been to Al's blog lots of times as I'm sure lots of folks have, but I can't remember what it's called or I'd link it.)

Good for a laugh or two.
---------------------------------------------------------

Top Ten Signs You Are No Longer a "Newly Illumined" Orthodox Christian:
* with personal notes

30. You don't think it unusual that there are 30 items in a top 10 list.

28. You are comfortable enough with mystery to not question where number 29 went.

27. You have food arranged in your freezer by the feasts and fasts.
* Nope. Just feel fortunate when there is food in the freezer.

26. Your coffee consumption exceeds that of the Presbyterians.
* It always has.

25. You enjoy the irony of having a great feast whereupon one fasts (Sept 14).

24. You can unconsciously count to 40 'Lord have mercies' without thinking.
* Nope. Still have to count on my fingers - even when I'm only counting to twelve.

23. You do not expect a swift conclusion to the service when the deacon starts the litany with "Let us complete our prayer to the Lord."
* I caught on to this long before chrismation.

22. You wonder why folks are at the Krispy Kreme on a Sunday morning.

21. You think "Do Thou.." is positively wonderful sentence construction.

20. You have actually used "noetic" and "effulgent" in a normal conversation (or as a password on your computer).
* Nope. Never used them either in conversation or as passwords.

19. You own at least one pair of industrial strength insoles.
* Nope - but I do own a couple pair of very sensible shoes.

18. You can add or subtract 13 days from almost any event without thinking.
* I'm getting better at this.

17. You look at Christmas decorations and wonder how much better Santa would look with an omophorion.

16. You can tell the seasons of the year by looking at the color of the cloth on the analogion.
* Of course I could do this as a Lutheran.

15. Holy Week and Bright Week have surpassed the Super Bowl as the major sporting event of the year.

14. You try to sing in choir and find that you can't turn the pages either.
* Yes I can.

13. You can buy a steak on Wednesday and not have any desire to cook it till Thursday.
* Nope. I still want to cook it on Wednesday.

12. You know how to make 40 different bean dishes that all taste good.
*Nope. But DearHusband can.

11. All your food includes either cabbage or dill or both.

10. You are not embarrassed to meet people you know in the liquor store.
* Never have been.

9. You read poetry and wonder what tone it is in.
* Ha! I do this all the time!

8. You no longer look past the first 4 ingredients when buying food during Lent.
* Five ingredients, actually.

7. You don't have to consult Hints from Heloise to know how to get wax out of fabrics.
* Anyone who has ever served on Altar Guild (in any denomination) knows this.

6. You have worn out at least one chotki.
* Sadly, no.

5. You have put a safety latch on your once loaded Bible.
* huh?

4. You think that shrimp are vegan and notice that fish sticks have no backbone.
* I've actually noticed that lots of things don't have a backbone: hamburgers, ice cream, etc.

3. You have a desire to do everything in triplicate.

3. You have a desire to do everything in triplicate.

3. You have a desire to do everything in triplicate.
* :-)

2. You realize that the heterodox do not have the market on swinging from the chandeliers.
* I have never known any heterodox or Orthodox who swing from the chandeliers.

And the number one sign that you are no longer newly illumined....

1. "March Madness" refers to an inexplicable desire for hummus.

On Worship

2009-09-15T19:52:00.005-05:00

Words of Richard John Neuhaus, which I'd read some time ago and of which I'd lost track. How wonderful to see a link to a post which included them today.

"We do not worship in order to assist, to facilitate, to serve any other end, no matter how honorable or urgent that end may be. We worship God because God is to be worshiped. Worship is as close as we come here on earth to discovering an end in itself, for it is our end eternally."

HT: Pr. Weedon

Egg-cellent!

2009-09-14T19:39:00.009-05:00

One of our two young pullets, Betty, finally started laying this past Saturday!

Late Saturday morning she gave us a small and perfect little brown egg. On Sunday afternoon she gave us another one, just slightly bigger.

She took today off.

Now it's her sister's turn - and she looks ready!

A Day of Mourning and Repentance

2009-09-11T13:06:00.003-05:00

This was posted today by my friend, Dwight, who has recently announced that he's on blogging hiatus. I'm glad that he continues to share some thoughts on Facebook.

I thought it worth sharing.
________________________________________________

Today is the anniversary of a series of horrible events. It marks the eighth anniversary of the deaths (and injuries) of thousands in New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington, DC. The victims of the crashes should be remembered -- and as the Orthodox say, may their memories be eternal.

But those were not the only victims of that horrifying day. Truth was a casualty that day: Need I mention "weapons of mass destruction" or the "connection" between Al-Qaeda and Sadam Hussein or the political manipulation of threat code-colors or the denunciation of non-existent "death panels"? And how about "liberal" commitment: How many supposed liberals and non-violent Christians found themselves shouting for the bombing of Afghanistan, because "they" (who? "they!") bombed us first. (Scott Simon, of NPR fame and infamy, opened my eyes with his threatened-masculinity tirade in the Wall Street Journal, saying, in essence, "What? We should just take it? Of course not. We have to kill in return -- and it doesn't matter whom.")

And democracy in this country may have suffered a mortal wound: As Ben Franklin wisely noted, "The man who trades freedom for security does not deserve nor will he ever receive either." Nevertheless, in our USAmerican eagerness to forget the past, we stifled dissent -- calling it "treason" and "anti-American" -- even as we institutionalized racial profiling, denied basic human rights with policies of rendition and Guantanamoization, suspended basic First Amendment guarantees (for citizens, mind you) with the notorious and ironically titled "Patriot Act."

Decades ago, Soviet Premier Nikitia Khruschev uttered his (mistranslated) "We will bury you" judgment on the USAmerican future. Of course, the non-critical listeners and thinkers took that to be a military threat, even though it was obvious that he meant that they would survive while we rotted from within. Well, the USSR didn't fare very well in its authoritarianism (although arguably the Russian Soviet Republic is back and holding out). But is seems clear that there was a prophet's wisdom in his pronouncement. We find ourselves in an environment of decivilization (at many levels from Abu Graiib to booing the President in a session of Congress and calling him out as liar to shouting down opponents at "town meetings).

It's easy to say that we lost something precious that day eight years ago -- some have stupidly said that it was our "innocence" we lost. But no, we lost something deeper: We lost lots of dear lives -- but we continue to lose hundreds and thousands of dear lives, only now we don't wear our hearts on our sleeves because they're soldiers and "collateral damage." We lost our heart. Supposedly, we woke up to realize that we could be "hit" on our home ground -- though of course, Timothy McVey had taught us that in Oklahoma City, and we didn't rush wholesale against the fundamentalist-Christian-militarist-libertarian-racist crowd. We lost our sense -- or reality and of fair play. Did we lose our sense of security? No, we lost our conviction that a democratic structure for truth, liberty, equality, and fair-play can perdure even in the face of threats from those who, in the service of whatever agenda, seek to subvert that structure. We lost our integrity.

And perhaps most sadly of all, the Christian Church in this country lost its faith. We did not and do not pray for our enemies; we did not and do not stand up for the thousands of innocent victims who are massacred (much as were the Twin Towers victims massacred) in the name of American interest or self-preservation. We did not and do not affirm HOPE -- not "wishes and dreams" kind of hoping, but the the firm conviction that just a God raised Jesus from the dead after his Son's life of faithfulness and dedication to his truth, so He will sustain us and, if death it be, raise us up. We have once again committed ourselves to the worship of Molokh, even as we entertain ourselves for an hour on Sundays with bread and circuses.

I wish it were some of this that would cause sadness among USAmericans today and make of this a Yom Kippur instead of a day of licking festering (and in many cases, self-inflicted) wounds.

In Which A Picture Says a Thousand Words

2009-09-05T08:38:00.006-05:00

Ummm ...

Mine would be the short one.

I married up.

The Understanding of the Relationship Between Invisible Internal Objects

2009-09-04T20:00:00.005-05:00

Shamelessly nabbed from my friend, Dwight - who sent it to me in email form this afternoon. He notes that it has gained wide circulation on the internet - and with this I'm gonna make that circulation a little wider.

A longish read, but I found it moving.

(Thanks for sharing it, Dwight.)

.....................................................................................................................

Thanks to the locally produced public radio program, Performance Today, I was introduced to Karl Paulnack, who is a fine pianist and the director of the music division at the Boston Conservatory. (He played today with Jorja Fleezanis, who until recently was concertmistress of the Minnesota Orchestra.) The host brought attention to a welcoming talk the Mr. Paulnack gave to the parents of incoming freshmen at the Conservatory. It has gained wide circulation on the Internet, and I reproduce it here, hoping either that this is now officially in the public domain or that this constitutes fair use...

Welcome Address, by Karl Paulnack

“One of my parents’ deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn’t be appreciated. I had very good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they imagined that as a doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my mother’s remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school—she said, “you’re WASTING your SAT scores.” On some level, I think, my parents were not sure themselves what the value of music was, what its purpose was. And they LOVED music, they listened to classical music all the time. They just weren’t really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the “arts and entertainment” section of the newspaper, and serious music, the kind your kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment, in fact it’s the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a little bit about music, and how it works.

The first people to understand how music really works were the ancient Greeks. And this is going to fascinate you; the Greeks said that music and astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects. Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us. Let me give you some examples of how this works.

One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the Quartet for the End of Time written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940. Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany. He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940, sent across Germany in a cattle car and imprisoned in a concentration camp.
He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose. There were three other musicians in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist, and Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind. It was performed in January 1941 for four thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp. Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the concentration camps, why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture—why would anyone bother with music? And yet—from the camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art; it wasn’t just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without rec reation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, “I am alive, and my life has meaning.”

On September 12, 2001 I was a resident of Manhattan. That morning I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even matter? Isn’t this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.
And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.
At least in my neighborhood, we didn’t shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We didn’t play cards to pass the time, we didn’t watch TV, we didn’t shop, we most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I saw in New York, that same day, was singing. People sang. People sang around fire houses, people sang “We Shall Overcome”. Lots of people sang America the Beautiful. The first organized public event that I remember was the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic. The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that very night.

From these two experiences, I have come to understand that music is not part of “arts and entertainment” as the newspaper section would have us believe. It’s not a luxury, a lavish thing that we fund from leftovers of our budgets, not a plaything or an amusement or a pass time. Music is a basic need of human survival. Music is one of the ways we make sense of our lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a way for us to understand things with our hearts when we cannot with our minds.

Some of you may know Samuel Barber’s heartwrenchingly beautiful piece Adagio for Strings. If you don’t know it by that name, then some of you may know it as the background music which accompanied the Oliver Stone movie Platoon, a film about the Vietnam War. If you know that piece of music either way, you know it has the ability to crack your heart open like a walnut; it can make you cry over sadness you didn’t know you had. Music can slip beneath our conscious reality to get at what’s really going on inside us the way a good therapist does.

I bet that you have never been to a wedding where there was absolutely no music. There might have been only a little music, there might have been some really bad music, but I bet you there was some music. And something very predictable happens at weddings—people get all pent up with all kinds of emotions, and then there’s some musical moment where the action of the wedding stops and someone sings or plays the flute or something. And even if the music is lame, even if the quality isn’t good, predictably 30 or 40 percent of the people who are going to cry at a wedding cry a couple of moments after the music starts. Why? The Greeks. Music allows us to move around those big invisible pieces of ourselves and rearrange our insides so that we can express what we feel even when we can’t talk about it. Can you imagine watching Indiana Jones or Superman or Star Wars with the dialogue but no music? What is it about the music swelling up at just the right moment in ET so that all the softies in the audience start crying at exactly the same moment? I guarantee you if you showed the movie with the music stripped out, it wouldn’t happen that way. The Greeks: Music is the understanding of the relationship between invisible internal objects.

I’ll give you one more example, the story of the most important concert of my life. I must tell you I have played a little less than a thousand concerts in my life so far. I have played in places that I thought were important. I like playing in Carnegie Hall; I enjoyed playing in Paris; it made me very happy to please the critics in St. Petersburg. I have played for people I thought were important; music critics of major newspapers, foreign heads of state. The most important concert of my entire life took place in a nursing home in Fargo, ND, about 4 years ago.

I was playing with a very dear friend of mine who is a violinist. We began, as we often do, with Aaron Copland’s Sonata, which was written during World War II and dedicated to a young friend of Copland’s, a young pilot who was shot down during the war. Now we often talk to our audiences about the pieces we are going to play rather than providing them with written program notes. But in this case, because we began the concert with this piece, we decided to talk about the piece later in the program and to just come out and play the music without explanation.

Midway through the piece, an elderly man seated in a wheelchair near the front of the concert hall began to weep. This man, whom I later met, was clearly a soldier—even in his 70’s, it was clear from his buzz-cut hair, square jaw and general demeanor that he had spent a good deal of his life in the military. I thought it a little bit odd that someone would be moved to tears by that particular movement of that particular piece, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard crying in a concert and we went on with the concert and finished the piece.

When we came out to play the next piece on the program, we decided to talk about both the first and second pieces, and we described the circumstances in which the Copland was written and mentioned its dedication to a downed pilot. The man in the front of the audience became so disturbed that he had to leave the auditorium. I honestly figured that we would not see him again, but he did come backstage afterwards, tears and all, to explain himself.

What he told us was this: “During World War II, I was a pilot, and I was in an aerial combat situation where one of my team’s planes was hit. I watched my friend bail out, and watched his parachute open, but the Japanese planes which had engaged us returned and machine gunned across the parachute chords so as to separate the parachute from the pilot, and I watched my friend drop away into the ocean, realizing that he was lost. I have not thought about this for many years, but during that first piece of music you played, this memory returned to me so vividly that it was as though I was reliving it. I didn’t understand why this was happening, why now, but then when you came out to explain that this piece of music was written to commemorate a lost pilot, it was a little more than I could handle. How does the music do that? How did it find those feelings and those memories in me?”

Remember the Greeks: music is the study of invisible relationships between internal objects. This concert in Fargo was the most important work I have ever done. For me to play for this old soldier and help him connect, somehow, with Aaron Copland, and to connect their memories of their lost friends, to help him remember and mourn his friend, this is my work. This is why music matters.

What follows is part of the talk I will give to this year’s freshman class when I welcome them a few days from now. The responsibility I will charge your sons and daughters with is this:
“If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing appendectomies, you’d take your work very seriously because you would imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your emergency room and you’re going to have to save their life. Well, my friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well you do your craft.

You’re not here to become an entertainer, and you don’t have to sell yourself. The truth is you don’t have anything to sell; being a musician isn’t about dispensing a product, like selling used Chevies. I’m not an entertainer; I’m a lot closer to a paramedic, a firefighter, a rescue worker. You’re here to become a sort of therapist for the human soul, a spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works with our insides to see if they get things to line up, to see if we can come into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.

Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you not only to master music; I expect you to save the planet. If there is a future wave of wellness on this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don’t expect it will come from a government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists, because that’s what we do. As in the concentration camp and the evening of 9/11, the artists are the ones who might be able to help us with our internal, invisible lives.”

And the Winner is ...

2009-08-31T17:16:00.007-05:00

I posted a long time ago about a family contest - a race. The idea was that if I could pay off my car before YoungerSon got his braces, I win (or at least I will be able to make my car payments payable to the orthodontist - which is as close to winning as the Transposzing parents are gonna get with this one.)

When the race started, YoungerSon still had a whole bunch of baby teeth. At the initial consult, the orthodontist said the baby teeth would have to be out before the braces could go on - and we were just hoping that some of those teeth would hang in there until my car was paid off.

Well, today the braces went on - even though YoungerSon still has one lonely baby tooth left (no fair!). My car is still a couple of months from being paid off - BUT - we paid off DearHusband's car last month.

So who won the race?

The orthodontist, I guess.

Girl ...

2009-08-28T11:22:00.005-05:00

... you'll be a woman soon. (we hope!!!)

Our "little girls" are now officially bigger than "the ladies" (they are a heavier breed than the red hens). I'm thinking it's about time for these freeloaders to get to work.

"When will my pullets finally start laying?" is the most popular question on the Backyard Chickens online forum which I frequent. The best answers I have seen are:

... the day after you give up on them ever laying
... the day you break down and go to the grocery store and buy eggs
... the day you sit down and do the math, figuring out exactly how much you have invested in your first egg.
... the day you think that you might be hungrier for fried chicken than you are for eggs

The more serious responders have posted "clues" - things to watch for when they are getting close. Wilma and Betty have met most of the criteria - though it seems they are still a bit pinker in the comb than the ladies, whose combs and wattles are a very vibrant red. Hens need about 14 hours of daylight to lay eggs and with fall soon upon us, the days with 14 hours of daylight are waning, if not already past. We had thought we wouldn't use artificial light in the henhouse to keep them laying in the winter - but we made no firm decisions about articifial light in the late fall. Technically, winter doesn't start until Dec. 21, right?

Twenty weeks is the average age for the first egg from Buff Orpingtons. By my count, they will be about 19 weeks this weekend.

Scenes from a Vacation

2009-08-08T14:09:00.030-05:00

My family and I returned on Sunday afternoon from a lovely week of vacation at the Medayto Lodge in Spicer, MN - it's becoming an annual summer tradition to spend this first week of August with our extended family on DearHusband's side.

It was a relaxing week and members of my family spent it fishing and reading and hiking and swimming and napping and talking and eating.

Here are some visual highlights:

Fishing is always on the agenda for our boys, and they got a bunch of it in.

We had a couple of rainy mornings toward the end of our week, but we managed to find indoor activities during those times. Happily, the rain events usually ended within just a couple of hours.

On one of the more overcast days, my BIL announced that he was going to take the boys and go fishing at a nearby weed bed on the lake. Months ago I had seen directions online for how to make a St. Brigid's cross from reeds and had always wanted to try it. So I asked him to cut me a good handful of them while he was out there. When they returned, I found the instructions online (we were able to get some spotty internet service there), and I was amazed at how easy they are to make. So I made one - and then I showed some of my other rels how to make them and we made ALOT of them!

The evenings were especially lovely!

We are already looking forward to next year!

Usefulness and Beauty

2009-07-31T21:05:00.008-05:00

Another wonderful post from my favorite blogger, Fr. Stephen Freeman:

+++

We can say without hesitation that God is the ultimate author of Beauty, and what we know and love of beauty is an echo or stronger of our desire for the Beautiful God. It becomes a major problem of sin, largely unrecognized, when beauty begins to recede from the consciousness of people, or something tawdry or ersatz becomes substituted for that which is beautiful.

We live, of course, in a culture which is predicated on mass production. Thus even within Orthodoxy we are driven towards mass production in an effort to economize and to satisfy ourselves with the same level of aesthetic that marks our culture (this is frequently true of icons in mission churches, including my own). I have had opportunity to see and worship in an environment marked by quality iconography and in a few cases, truly great icons.

I can recall being in a parish that has a particularly well-rendered “Rublev” Trinity (the three angels in the visit with Abraham) in the parish altar. I was officiating Vespers. As the sun began to set, the dying rays of the evening sun caught the icon and it began to “luminesce” in a manner I had only read about. The icon shone brightly with a light that appeared to come from within. This is not easily accomplished in the painting of an icon, but is certainly a proper goal of its execution. It is a revelation of the heavenly light (iconographically).

Both the orientation of the Church and the quality of its iconography became one with the service that was being offered and a beauty that is all too rare was revealed. There was nothing to be said, but as the choir sang, “O Gladsome Light,” the icon wordlessly proclaimed the same.

There is much in our life and culture that pushes us away from beauty. Mass production and the nature of our economy (marked by a level of productivity unknown in human history), are driven by questions other than beauty. Beauty has value as it can be marketed, but too often is absent in any depth from much of our experience. (I should add that the long-term goals of my parish include proper iconography and a temple that conforms to Orthodox architectural norms.)

Deeply distressing is the drive to “utility” in our lives. Value is given to that which is “useful.” Beauty thus becomes an avocation, a luxury not seen as useful or necessary to our existence. Of course, this is a deep miscalculation of the nature of human existence. Human beings do not exist well without beauty – and in most of human culture throughout most of human history, beauty has been valued beyond many of the things which we think of as “useful.”

The recent questions about knowing God – which I have described as something that often comes to me in the “peripheral vision” of my life – seems somehow related to the perception of beauty as well. Beauty often seems to be “greater than the sum of its parts.” We see beauty not simply by looking at a thing – but by seeing it. Many people look at icons – a rightly prepared heart is required in order to see an icon. Beauty is not an object to be manipulated – but always a gift and a wonder to be venerated. So, too, our knowledge of God. Thus the knowledge of God seems radically different than the knowledge we gain by the exercise of our rational faculty. God cannot be mastered or measured. Even though He has given us words to express Him – He cannot be contained in the words. As the Fathers of the 7th Council said, “Icons do with color what Scripture does with words.” I would suggest that it is also true that Scripture does with words what icons do with color. With that – some brief thoughts on beauty.

A very sad existence indeed is a human life that has been reduced to utility and emptied of beauty.

The very presence of God brings beauty into the world, for God Himself is beautiful. As human art has revealed, even in the suffering of the Cross, God is beautiful.

I can recall some years ago chairing a committee of a parish that was in the process of interviewing architects (we were planning to build our first true “church”). One architect we interviewed shared his opinion: churches historically had wasted a lot of money that could have better been spent on the poor. I do not hesitate in preaching our obligations to the poor, nor the need for us to tithe and give beyond ourselves. But I had no hesitancy in looking for a different architect. I daresay few architects would have said to a family whose house they were designing, “I think people have spent too much on building their homes and have neglected the poor.” It was churches that should be relegated to utility.

I strongly expect, because of the seamless garment of Christian theology, that someone who does not understand the necessity of beauty will not truly love the poor. For the poor must be treated not merely as the objects of our utility but the beautiful creations of God: anything less is not love.

I recall the title of Macolm Muggeridge’s wonderful book on Mother Teresa: Something Beautiful for God.

Yes. Yes, indeed.

Many Years!

2009-07-26T15:51:00.048-05:00

I joined my friends at Lutheran Church of the Resurrection (my former fellowship) this past Sunday morning as their pastor of many years, Robert Hausman, celebrated his last eucharist as their pastor and begins his retirement.

Though I was a member of this parish for just a few short years, it was a time of great learning for me and of profound deepening of faith, thanks in part to the ministry of this faithful pastor.

The first time I visited his church I was completely charmed by it. A small congregation who sings the hymnody and liturgy like they really mean it (they do!), a warm and inviting sanctuary, a complete and faithful liturgy, a wonderful choir, and this rather non-typical (at least for MN) pastor with a really long sermon and sort of a mortician's handshake. For a good Lutheran, what's not to love? And so I went back the next week. And the next. And before too long I became a part of this community of faith and he became a mentor and friend.

And for those next weeks and months and years this pastor with a mortician's handshake taught me. With every liturgy and sermon and meeting and conversation he taught me something. Something about God or about the church or about liturgy or about community or about life. Perhaps most importantly, he helped me to learn much about myself.

But my last last several months as a member at Resurrection were a time of spiritual struggle for me. And during those months while I slogged through the muck of frustration and fear and everything else that sometimes happens when God calls a person to a new place in life, at times I dragged him through a bit of muck, too. Yet at those time he slogged along with me, because that's what a good pastor does. And that is what a good friend does.

Though he has not been my pastor for nearly three years he has continued to be a patient and trusted friend, and in every note or conversation or visit he continues to teach me.

May God grant him many, many years ... I still have alot to learn.

Holding Our Breath

2009-07-25T22:04:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago we added a large addition to our existing chicken run in order to help with the integration of our 2 young pullets and our 2 laying hens. The feathers flew momentarily a couple of times at first - a bit of squawking and chasing and nipping every now and then - but within only a day or so they got it sorted out and our two little flocks were spending their days together quite peacefully. At about dusk each night the hens would climb the ladder up to the henhouse and the pullets would pace the fence, waiting for us to come and put them in their own small coop to sleep.

The pullets should start laying soon and we will go on vacation even sooner. We really want to have all of our chickens together in the same henhouse and run - peacefully - before we go (because they can let themselves in and out of the henhouse, all our chicken sitter will have to do while we are gone is stop over to change the water and check the food once a day - and collect the eggs from the hens.)

So now is the time to get the girls into the henhouse with the ladies. And tonight seemed as good a night as any to give it a shot.

We put the pullets up into the house just before dusk (they were sorta freaked out, not knowing what to do up there), and we waited just the few short minutes until dusk, and watched the hens head up the ladder into the henhouse.

Then we watched them climb immediately back down again, chattering away ("What are THEY doing up there???").

Then they went right back up. Lucy (queen of the coop and alpha hen stood there and BAWKED for a few minutes, then she settled in next to Ruby in their regular sleeping spot in the henhouse. Then, we stood on the deck and waited for a good fight to break out. And we waited. And waited. Finally after about 15 minutes, DearHusband and YoungerSon went down to the yard and took a peek in the henhouse. Both the hens were asleep, and the pullets were quiet, but nervously looking around.

That was about an hour ago. And it's still quiet down there. Not a cheep out of anyone...yet.

If no one has been pecked to death, or attacked, or booted out of the henhouse by morning (all of which can happen and often does), I think we may have cleared this hurdle rather painlessly.

This is what happens.

2009-07-25T07:07:00.015-05:00

This is what happens when we fail to teach (at least in words, if not by example) our children that marriage is not about us, and that marriage is serious business.

This is what happens when congregations allow their temples to become rental halls.

This is what happens when we do not teach our children who God is - and how to approach him to ask for his blessing. And when we fail to instill in them any idea of what holiness is or what it means.

Things get out of hand.

Sometimes it is helpful to remember that the rites of the church are the way they are not because of some lack of creativity on the part of God's people, but because they serve a higher purpose than simply being a creative outlet.

But the church no longer knows how to say no. Like the overly permissive parent who equates love with saying yes to everything and doesn't realize until it's too late that saying yes to everything was not the most loving - or responsible - thing to do.

Christ whose bride is the Church united himself to her by suffering and dying for her. And by this Christ showed us what marriage is to be.

But that doesn't sound like much fun, does it?

New Icons at Church

2009-06-24T20:57:00.018-05:00

Knowing that some new iconography was going to be installed on the walls of our church last week, I took a few days off from work hoping to be able to watch some of this installation project up close, hoping to get some photos of the installation for the church's website photogallery, and hoping to be able to visit a little with the iconographer while he is in town.

I was fortunate to be able to do all of these things during those few days - YoungerSon came along each day and was as fascinated as I was. Six new icons now adorn the walls of our church, in the spaces between the windows. These new icons, in combination with the icon of the Theotokos over the altar, depict various verses of the Canons. Here are the new icons (forgive the glare from the flash of my cheap camera, and click on the images for a better look):

I was amazed at just how "at home" they looked, right from the minute they were put up on the walls - how the whole interior of the church was sort of tied together by the new iconography on the walls. It's almost as if the whole interior of the church is one large icon. The St. Paul paper wrote a little piece on the project in this past Saturday's paper.

What a good several days it was! A couple of folks from the church (including YoungerSon and me) assisted in various ways - and even though our tasks were quite small, it was a blessing to feel a part of the project. Iconographer Nick Papas was patient and gracious in the midst of his work to answer my many questions not only about this particular project, but about iconography in general - gave me lots of food for thought.

Now I'm off to assemble a couple of pages of photos of the installation for the church's website photogallery.

Thanks be to God for this wonderful work which will teach and inspire those who see it for many years to come!

Tender Mercy

2009-06-19T22:10:00.002-05:00

The icons of the “Tender Mercy” type show the Christ Child pressing his left cheek close to the right cheek of his Mother. Here the Theotokos again represents the Church of Christ, thereby displaying the fullness of love between God and man, a love that can only be achieved within the bosom of the Church, the Mother. Love here bridges heaven and earth, the things of God and the things of men; and this unity is expressed in the touching of the faces and the halos.

The Theotokos is pensive, as she presses her Son to herself. She envisions His way of the cross, His life full of sufferings. The almond-shaped eyes, the narrow nose, and the dark shadows in the face - all these features have a dematerializing effect, stressing the Divine.

(HT: a wonderful page of information about the various types of icons of the Theotokos)

Dance Dance Revolution

2009-06-18T19:11:00.005-05:00

For Bach lovers, like me!

HT: My friend, Dash

Weekend Update

2009-06-07T16:57:00.012-05:00

What a fine weekend it has been! Normally when it's been cold and rainy all weekend, I'd be inclined to whine about it, but it's been so dry here in recent weeks, that the rain this weekend has come as a welcome blessing.

Because of the rain, we busied ourselves indoors and got a few things done inside for a change, which was long overdue.

I spent some time working on an icon of the Theotokos, which is almost done. It needs some touch up, a couple of nimbuses/halos, some lettering, and a couple of coats of varnish. Because I'm a beginner when it comes to painting icons, I spend lots of time practicing, and I try to practice using materials that are inexpensive (until I feel ready enough to pony up and buy the $80 gesso board - maybe when I take another class.) But the board I used for this particular icon was the cheapest board I've ever found. And as soon as I started to lay paint on it I found out why it was so inexpensive...the board seemed to almost repel the paint. As if it had some slick coating on it. The packaging said that it had a gesso finish - I have my doubts. But I got off to a good beginning with it, so I didn't want to scrap it and start over. Yet the board and paint have fought me at every turn, and it has taken several coats of paint on everything to cover the surface.

Our older hens decided that it was time for a dustbath on Saturday - and because of the rain, their dustbath had turned to mud. No matter to them - they made it a mudbath and rolled around in the mud for almost an hour. By all outward appearances, they had the time of their lives, and they emerged as the sorriest looking wet and black chickens ever. Somehow, magically, when they came down from the coop this morning, most of the mud was off of them and they looked sorta fresh actually. (The hens pictured here are supposed to be red!)

Today is Pentecost in the Orthodox Church - and our church's parish feast. It was a beautiful liturgy. At the end of the service we had a procession around the church as it was blessed on it's feast day, then returned inside for the end of the liturgy and the kneeling prayers. After liturgy we had a celebratory potluck luncheon before heading home.

Here are a couple of photos from the blessing of the church building today:

The rest of these photos can be seen here.

Not For Lightweights

2009-06-02T16:48:00.002-05:00

A friend forwarded me a link to a great essay today. It's an essay about a Baptist pastor's first visit to an Orthodox Church. I'll cross-post it below:

Last Sunday was the 4th of 13 in my sabbatical time. Each of them is precious to me. Each week I am choosing a place and a way to worship. I’m not a church tourist, hoping to see new things. I’m seeking spiritual experiences. I want to worship. Saturday night Jeanene and I still hadn’t decided where to go. I experienced something common to our culture but new to me. The “Where do you want to go to church - I don’t know where do YOU want to go to church” conversation. I found the Saint Anthony the Great website. It's an Orthodox church that has beautiful Byzantine art in the sanctuary. We decided to go there.

Shelby and Lillian went with us. On the way we warned them that this was going to be different. “They might not have changed their worship service much in a thousand years or so,” I told the girls.

That was an understatement.

Saint Anthony the Great isn't just old school. It's "styli and wax tablets" old school. We arrived ten minutes early for worship and the room was already filled with people lighting candles and praying. There was one greeter. I said, “We don’t know what to do.” She handed me a liturgy book and waved us inside.

Pews? We don’t need no stinking pews! Providing seats for worshipers is SO 14th century. Gorgeous Byzantine art, commissioned from a famous artist in Bulgaria. Fully robed priests with censors (those swinging incense thingies). Long, complex readings and chants that went on and on and on. And every one of them packed full of complex, theological ideas. It was like they were ripping raw chunks of theology out of ancient creeds and throwing them by the handfuls into the congregation. And just to make sure it wasn't too easy for us, everything was read in a monotone voice and at the speed of an auctioneer.

I heard words and phrases I had not heard since seminary. Theotokos, begotten not made, Cherubim and Seraphim borne on their pinions, supplications and oblations. It was an ADD kids nightmare. Robes, scary art, smoking incense, secret doors in the Iconostas popping open and little robed boys coming out with golden candlesticks, chants and singing from a small choir that rolled across the curved ceiling and emerged from the other side of the room where no one was singing. The acoustics were wild. No matter who was speaking, the sound came out of everywhere. There was so much going on I couldn't keep up with all the things I couldn't pay attention to.

Lillian was the first to go down. After half an hour of standing, she was done. Jeanene took her over to a pew on the side wall. She slumped against Jeanene’s shoulder and stared at me with this stunned, rather betrayed look on her face.

“How could you have brought us to this insane place?”

Shelby tried to tough it out. We were following along in the 40 page liturgy book that was only an abbreviation of the service were were experiencing. I got lost no less than 10 times. After 50 minutes Shelby leaned over and asked how much longer the service would be. I was trying to keep from locking my knees because my thighs had gotten numb. I showed her the book. We were on page 15. I flipped through the remaining 25 pages to show her how much more there was. Her mouth fell open.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. And I think there's supposed to be a sermon in here somewhere.”

“They haven’t done the SERMON yet? What was that guy doing who said all that stuff about…all that stuff?”

“I don’t know?” I said.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. I looked around and saw the door at the back of the sanctuary swinging shut.

And then there was one.

I made it through the entire 1 hour and 50 minutes of worship without sitting down, but my back was sore. Shelby came back toward the end. When it came time for communion I suggested that we not participate because I didn't know what kind of rules they have for that. We stayed politely at the back. A woman noticed and brought some of the bread to us, bowing respectfully as she offered it. Her gesture of kindness to newcomers who were clearly struggling to understand everything was touching to me.

Okay, so I started crying a little. So what? You would have too, I bet.

After it was over another woman came to speak with us. She said, “I noticed the girls were really struggling with having to stand.”

“Yeah,” I said. “This worship is not for lightweights.”

She laughed and said, "yes," not the least bit ashamed or apologetic.

So what did I think about my experience at Saint Anthony the Great Orthodox Church?

I LOVED IT. Loved it loved it loved it loved it loved it.

In a day when user-friendly is the byword of everything from churches to software, here was worship that asked something of me. No, DEMANDED something of me.

“You don’t know what Theotokos means? Get a book and read about it. You have a hard time standing for 2 hours? Do some sit ups and get yourself into worship shape. It is the Lord our God we worship here, mortal. What made you think you could worship the Eternal One without pain?"

See, I get that. That makes sense to me. I had a hard time following the words of the chants and liturgy, but even my lack of understanding had something to teach me.

“There is so much for you to learn. There is more here than a person could master in a lifetime. THIS IS BIGGER THAN YOU ARE. Your understanding is not central here. These are ancient rites of the church. Stand with us, brother, and you will learn in time. Or go and find your way to an easier place if you must. God bless you on that journey. We understand, but this is the way we do church.”

I’m going back again on Sunday. I started to write, “I’m looking forward to it.” But that’s not right. I’m feeling right about it.

And feeling right is what I'm looking for.

Update: This was actually written on May 26 or 27. I went back to Saint Anthony the Great on Sunday. I found I was following along a little better. I'm REALLY getting a lot out of Orthodox worship. Shelby and Lillian declined to go with me this time.

Another Kind of Conversion

2009-05-30T21:48:00.016-05:00

Spring has sprung and our 6 week old chicks, Betty and Wilma, want out of the brooder and out of the garage, and into the sunshine and fresh air. We try to get them outside for a little playtime most days and it's getting harder and harder to get them to go back in the box. This past week one of them tried to make a run for it and almost flew out of the box after their romp in the yard. Now that they are fully feathered and Minnesota temps are seasonable, it's safe for them to be outside temperature-wise, but it isn't safe for them to be in the coop with the big girls just yet. The chicks need to be big enough to hold their own in a squabble when we put all of them together, because there's every chance that feathers will fly a bit as they get their pecking order sorted out when they are all together.

So for the past week or so, I've been eyeing our old dog house, which we bought ten years ago when we got our dog, and which he immediately outgrew. There it's been sitting unused all these years out in the back of the house and I wondered if it might be possible to convert the (insulated!) dog house into a temporary outdoor home for our chicks, until they are big enough to go into the big girl coop. So I made a few mental notes of things that it would need to be suitable for a few weeks, and I emailed a friend who has spent a considerable amount of time in recent weeks working in and on his own coop to ask his advice.

Saturday morning rolled around and two friends (our priest and the husband of my old high school pal, Gern) who are far handier than we are with drills and saws and such generously offered their morning and their wisdom and made some fine digs for our little girls out of that old dog house. I spent the morning handing off tools and trying to be as helpful as possible.

Here's a pictoral glance at our Saturday morning and early afternoon, beginning with the old doghouse - removeable roof removed.

Now we need to make a little ramp for the chicks and a small and predator-safe run around the house, and get some paint on that roof. We'll try to get some of that taken care of on Monday, and with any luck they will be living outside in just a few short days. We will all be happier.

It's nothing elaborate, but for our chicks it will be a palace compared to the box in the garage! It should serve them well for the summer until they are full grown in about a dozen weeks.

Avian Update

2009-05-24T20:19:00.015-05:00

The Transposzing family has been busy in the past couple of weeks (part of the reason for my lack of updated posts). But I've been asked by a couple of folks to post some photos of the girls, so here they are.

The little girls, who used to look like this:

Now look like this:

They're sort of at that awkward teenager stage - mostly feathered with little bits of down sticking out here and there, and some patches with neither feather nor down, but which will soon be feathered. They have gotten along famously and continue to spend their days in a (now greatly enlarged) brooder, dumping their food all over the floor and trying to sort out who gets to be the boss of them. This shouldn't be too hard - there's only two of them! And of course, once they get that sorted out, they'll soon discover that neither of them are the boss, because once they get out to the coop with the big girls, they will be low chickens on the totem pole, simply because of their size.

Once we offically adopted Miss Flora, we renamed her at the suggestion of the friend who gave her to us - she was part of a threesome originally: Flora Fauna, and Merriweather. Once he gave Flora away, it seemed rather silly to just have a Fauna and Merriweather, so he renamed his two buff Orpingtons and encouraged us to do the same. So Wilma's adopted sister is Betty, even though we know that naming our two chicks Wilma and Betty rather dates us. (Once when our boys were little we bought some Flintstone's children's multi-vitamins for them at Target, and ElderSon's only comment was, "What's a Flintstone?" *sigh*)

The big girls seem to love their new home in the 'burbs. They settled in as soon as we got them home and gave us two fine eggs the very next morning. In fact, they have given us two fine eggs every day, which we have enjoyed! We've got a little waiting list of folks who want eggs and are sort of handing them out in half-dozens. We eat a few and then give a few away. Here's what's in the fridge at the moment:

As it turned out, we renamed the big girls, too. They came to us with the names given to them by my brother-in-law's young children, Docilea and Flash. We had no trouble remembering Flash, but could never remember Docilea's name - mostly we just remembered that it started with a D. So we gave them different names, Lucy and Ruby. New names, new home, new family - lots of changes came very quickly for them, but they seem to have taken it all in stride and are delightful, hard-working girls.

Here are a couple of additional shots:

The big girls seem to love their new digs:

DearHusband and Ruby (blurry cell phone shot):

Ruby

Lucy

Seems the chickens have been a bit of a curiosity in the neighborhood, too! We've now visited at length with several neighbors we've lived near for over a dozen years and never really spoken with. Many have stopped by to see them and to ask about them - one neighbor even volunteered to chicken-sit while we are away (if she can keep whatever eggs she gets!). So chicken ownership has had some unforseen benefits, too.

Now that we have sort of fallen into a good routine with the new chicks and chickens, we are slowly getting back to life-as-usual ... it's just a little fuller now. And a little more fun.

How I Spent Mother's Day

2009-05-10T20:43:00.005-05:00

We drove down to DearHusband's hometown to have lunch with his mom - and came home with our 2 new hens.

They seem pretty happy in their new home (but what do I know?). I'm not sure how much I'd like a complete change of life as I've always known it all within a few hours. They are now separated from their 2 sisters with whom they've lived their whole 1 year of life, taken their first really long car ride, and taken up residence outside instead of inside...and I'm told they're moulting, to boot (though I sure can't tell yet).

As you can see from the photo, the stress of the day hasn't seemed to have affected their appetites! And they aren't one bit afraid of that big dog, either.

Well, if we all make it through this first night, it should get easier from here on, right?

(Meanwhile, the little girls in the brooder will move to a larger brooder tomorrow, as they have outgrown the one they are currently in).

Reason #262 Why I Don't Belong on Facebook

2009-05-08T06:30:00.007-05:00

I find myself wanting to "hide" a Facebook friend.

It seems that I am learning WAY more than I want to know about a Facebook friend or two. I'm not talking about responders to those stupid quizzie things, "What gumball flavor are you?" or "What celebrity will you marry?" or other such meaningless stuff that folks feel compelled to tell the world (our two sons are perhaps the worst offenders of posting those stupid quizzie things).

It's when they post serious stuff, such as this, posted by a guy I really like - a pastor who is a former colleague:

"This generation is not looking for a church - they are looking for Jesus. I am Lutheran because of the beauty of our theology and the deep respect of God's grace. This is our shared heritage. I pray that, as Lutherans, we may be called by this generation to LIVE our theology as well as we TALK about it. It is an age of re-formation and, like the first, we are called to put Jesus, not church, at the center."

People want Jesus without the Church, he says. Seems people WANT lots of things - including Jesus without the cross. Or Jesus without worship. Or Jesus as genie-in-a-bottle. Or a personal sort of Jesus who belongs solely to me. Or, worst of all, the infamous Jesus as my boyfriend.

I did respond with a brief comment about Jesus and the Church being a package deal (and I really wanted to mention that a Jesus without the Church is not a part of the Lutheran "shared heritage" or the "beauty of its theology" that he mentions). The statement is so troublesome to me that it bothered me for much of the day - still bothers me, really. And what bothers me even worse is that I am the only one of his 258 "friends" that saw this update who challenged him about it. The only other responders gave him the old thumbs up or thanked him for his meaningful insight.

I like this fellow alot - he's just the sweetest guy ever. And while I enjoy seeing news of his family and photos of his growing kids and stuff, I'm so bothered by some of the theological material he puts out there that I think I might be better off not seeing that.

So Facebook handily provides a "hide" feature, which allows one to see less of the material posted by specific "friends." It saddens me to have to hide him, but if I'm going to keep him as a real-life friend, I might have to, or I'm gonna get myself into hot water.

If you are really looking for Jesus, you're not going to find him on Facebook.

Log off and go to church.

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them."

Crazy Eight

2009-05-04T06:35:00.006-05:00

Borrowed in an invited self-tag from Mimi

Eight Things I am looking forward to:

1. a week of vacation, beginning 5/11
2. the installation of new iconography at our church in June
3. fresh eggs from our own girls (that'll be awhile yet)
4. this week's visit of a good friend from CA
5. getting our garden in and the flower boxes planted
6. finishing the icon I am currently working on (that'll be awhile, too)
7. harvesting some rhubarb
8. the smell of clothes and linens fresh from the clothesline

8 Things I did yesterday:
(Umm, I started this post on Monday, so these are 8 things I did on Sunday)
1. had a delightful visit to my former Lutheran digs
2. enjoyed burgers on the grill with family and friends
3. also made s'mores for the first time this spring
4. deleted a whole bunch of links to things I used to read online (an ongoing project)
5. dragged out and filled the bird bath
6. read the paper
7. went to the grocery store
8. pulled a few weeds in the perennial bed (very few)

8 Things I wish I could do:

1. find/make time to read - books (not online)
2. calligraphy
3. play the organ - or any instrument, really
4. de-clutter (more)
5. build stuff
6. save money
7. stop procrastinating
8. sleep in

8 Shows I Watch
Ha! I don't watch 8 shows. But these are the ones I look for or love to catch

1. Law and Order - any variety
2. CSI, any location
3. the local news (almost religiously)
4. occasionally I watch the food network.

8 Tags.
As Mimi said, "You're it!"

Loved This!

2009-05-02T09:10:00.005-05:00

I have always loved watching herding excersises - always! So when I saw this, I just had to cross-post, with a HT to Fr. Gregory Jensen.

Taking what I have always considered to be a great and noble occupation to it's extreme level!

A Feast For the Eyes

2009-05-02T06:33:00.006-05:00

Iconographer Matthew Garret has recently completed a wonderful set of icons! I tried to download the intruiging little video which marks the process and progress of the painting of one of these icons, but alas, the downloading of this little video is a project for which I likely need the help of my kids, But it's fascinating!

Since the kids are still sleeping, I'll keep it simple. Go to his (beautiful) blog. While you're there be sure to follow the link to all of his iconography.

What inspiring work!

Eastern Christian New Media Blog Awards

2009-05-01T21:08:00.003-05:00

I've just been informed that someone has nominated my blog for one of these this year - whodathunkkit?

Check your RSS and Reader feeds and nominate all of your favorite Orthodox bloggers in several categories by going here.

Twelve

2009-05-01T06:04:00.003-05:00

Wishing YoungerSon (the family clown and our May Day boy) a happy, happy twelfth birthday.

(could he not have found a fake mustache in something a little blonder?)

Cheese Straws Are Nasty*

2009-04-30T10:09:00.010-05:00

* - Ian, in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"

"Christos Anesti!" "Alithos Anesti!"

"Christos Voskrese!" "Voistinue Voskrese!"

"Al Masseh Qam!" "Haqqan Qam!"

Christ is risen and here in the heart of midwest USA, Orthodox Christians exclaim the news in lots of different languages from the other side of the world. If they are anything like me, at their first Pascha the newly enlightened hear the beginning of the greeting in these various languages and heartily reply, "blah, blah, blah!" or "grimfischku vukonki! or (my favorite, the response to the Arabic), "honk, honk, honk!"

Deep down inside this newbie was a little jealous at my first Pascha as an Orthodox Christian of those worshipping around me who "just knew" how to respond with gusto to the Paschal greeting regardless of the language in which it is proclaimed. It felt a little at the time like a series of spy passwords - and you are only "in" if you know the secret password and response. "The eagle lands at midnight ..." You know what I mean.

How does everyone else seem to "just know" this stuff, I wondered. Someone had to tell them once upon a time - why wasn't I told, too?

And while there was the part of me that wanted to be "in" and know that stuff, too, another part of me was sort of frustrated about it. Why, I wondered, here in the middle of Minnesota USA, are Christians exchanging the paschal greeting in Slavonic? Or in Arabic or Greek? Is there anyone here who does not understand English? And are there not many of us here who don't speak or understand any of these other languages? What is the value of this practice here and now?

But as I have considered this a bit, and my initial reactions to this custom, I think maybe there's something to be learned from Ian (from the movie). "Cheese straws are nasty!" (well it sounds like Christos Anesti!) he said - not to make fun of the ethnic religious traditions of the one he loved - but as an act of love for her, as a way to try to enter into her life and her world, to participate in her history and traditions, and to become a part of her family.

Perhaps Ian has helped to answer my questions.

Sister, Sister

2009-04-29T20:18:00.012-05:00

The little girls in our chick brooder have been getting along famously, and life has been happy and playful and peaceful down there for the past several days. They are growing fast and getting more and more feathers every day (Check out Wilma's new wing feathers!).

Our priest, from whom we borrowed the "loaner chick" dropped a note to us today. He's been contemplating his new coop, which he thinks is perhaps just a wee bit tight for 5 hens, and trying to decide what modifications to make to allow for a bit more room. He decided that the best and easiest way to make more room in his coop would be to house one less hen in it.

So in his note today he asked whether we might consider adopting Flora the Loaner Chick, so that she could stay with Wilma, and so there would be a bit more breathing room in his coop once everyone is grown up and in there.

Of course we were only too happy to keep her. Deep down inside I wonder if this wasn't his plan from the moment he agreed to let us take her "for awhile."

But whether his kind offer was a matter of geniune practicality or of pastoral care or a bit of both, it's a win-win situation - and Wilma has a sister.

Well ...

2009-04-27T16:35:00.005-05:00

... here's how it went down:

Three tiny chicks were delivered to us this past cold and rainy Sunday morning at church. Adorable, all of them. Our busy morning meant bringing the babies along with us, in a box which dear husband had rigged up with a warmer light in the back of the van (plugged into an adapter which plugged into a receptacle) to keep them as warm as possible until we could get them home and into our makeshift brooder.

Once we got them home, it quickly became apparent that 2 of them weren't doing well at all, and sadly, we lost those two within only a couple of hours of being home. Not sure what happened to them, but we assume it was the stress of traveling and being cold, then warm, then cold, then warm. We were heartbroken - and so was our remaining girl, who cheeped and cheeped loudly for hours once she was alone. YoungerSon put a little teddy bear in the box with her to keep her company (we'd seen this online as a help for lonely chicks), and we hung out with her as much as we could until bedtime. DearHusband got up to check on her a couple of times at night, and to talk to her, which seeemed to soothe her a little. He found her cuddled up next to the little teddy bear.

As it happened, when our friends from church brought our 3 chicks, they also delivered 5 additional chicks (and a cute coop!) to our priest's house just before liturgy - they were his wife's surprise birthday gift to him. We learned only on Saturday that he would be getting chicks the next day, too. So this morning, DearHusband called Fr. and asked if we might borrow a "loaner chick" for a little while, as our girl was so sad and lonely, to which he graciously agreed. Life in the brooder is much happier now - at least for the time being.

So we are currently parenting one chick (Wilma) and one foster chick (Flora).

We called DearHusband's brother that first night to ask about next steps, and he told us that he has to give away 2 of his 4 one-year-old laying hens, because they are drowning in eggs. His chickens are illegal aliens which he is keeping at his house despite city regulations prohibiting them within the city limits. So he can't really give his eggs away in their small town without alot of questions (if you know what I mean). Since he's going to have to re-home two of them anyway, he suggested that they be re-homed with us. And since our coop is ready, DeaHusband is fashioning a pick-up plan for his brother's two girls.

Once we get them and the weather warms up and our Wilma has some feathers on, we'll return Father's loaner chick to his flock, make the appropriate introductions and hope they all get along and get busy!

As promised, a photo of the finished house and the babies in our brooder:

Getting Ready for the Girls

2009-04-22T20:38:00.003-05:00

We got the inside of the henhouse painted this evening, plus two coats of paint on the the outside. Tomorrow I'll put on the last coat on the outside and then paint the trim. After that, I think we will be about ready.

A family from church (who come a LONG way to church!), have a small flock at their house and they graciously agreed to pick up our chickens for us at their local farm supply and bring them to us this weekend, making the exchange at church on Sunday. I called them today to see if they were really OK with getting them and bringing them along to church this weekend, and was told that they'd already gotten them! No pullets were available, so they got chicks for us (chicks which will, soon enough, be pullets). So it looks like we're getting chicks, which is what DearHusband wanted all along, anyway.

We're putting together a makeshift brooder for them and will keep the babies in the garage until they get their feathers on in a few short weeks. Then they will move into their new accomodations in the yard.

They're Coming ...

2009-04-20T19:10:00.010-05:00

Al the chicken guy came this morning to assemble our henhouse. He said he has about another half-day of work to finish it. Hopefully, by the time I come home from work tomorrow, the weather will be a little more cooperative and I can get some paint on the inside of house (the portions made with green treated wood will have to wait awhile until the wood dries out).

Here's hoping that soon ...

Let Us Not Seek to Make it Less Monstrous

2009-04-19T06:34:00.000-05:00

Seven Stanzas at Easter
by John Updike

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

Last Minute Preparations

2009-04-18T16:50:00.008-05:00

It has been a wild few days for the Transposzing family - church, church, and more church (besides our regular work and school obligations). Some of our Pascha preparations have been put off until the last minute. But in these few hours we have been able to accomplish a bunch!

This morning: Vesperal Divine liturgy at church. A beautiful celebration, immediately after which we ran to the closest coffee shop and grabbed a cup of strong coffee to go, and then returned to church to see that appropriate preparations were being made for liturgy tonight.

Then, home to change clothes, drop ElderSon off at his best friend's birthday gathering, hit the grocery store to buy fixins for our Pascha basket, to the liquor store to buy additional fixins (and supplemental refreshments for supper tomorrow night), to the local department store to buy a replacement shirt for DearHusband, whose white shirt I accidentally pitched into the trash about a month ago in a tale too long to tell here. Then home to get some fast-drying varnish on a couple of eggs I made for folks at church to give to them tonight, and to dye our eggs - which should have been done on Thursday or Friday, to bake this year's kulich imposter (blueberry bread which will be all dressed up to look exactly like kulich and which will be part of our Sunday morning breakfast before Agape Vespers), and to do a load or two of laundry.

Now the bread is in the oven, the laundry and varnish on the last pysanky are drying, the beer is chilling, the eggs are dyed and cooling, and DearHusband has found a few minutes to take a nice spring ride on his scooter.

Hoping to get a nap in before we leave for church at about 11 tonight!

Here are a few photos I'll share of the last day or so ...

Here's a photo of the flower-enshrined tomb of Christ, upon which today's liturgy was served, as we met it when we came into church this morning.

For years now I have tried to get a decent photo of the moment at the Saturday liturgy (a liturgy much like western Easter Vigil in some ways) when the priests come through with handfuls of rose petals and bay leaves, throwing them about in a celebratory representation of Christ's victorious triumph over death and the grave. I have yet to get a good shot of this, but you can see here what it looked like afterward... (I am hoping others taking photos at church today got a decent shot, which I'll eventually upload to my church's website photo gallery).

My last pysanky of the year, varnish drying and ready to be blown before tonight.

Our cheese selections for this year's Transposzing Pascha basket. We limited it to 5 varieties this year. We also included a nice hunk of summer sausage, chocolate, some beef jerky for the boys, red eggs, a couple of beers, and some nice crackers.

This year we tried dying our eggs with onion skins that we'd saved up all during Lent, as I mentioned here. And it worked wonderfully! As Deb mentioned, they aren't fire-engine red, but rather a deep, natural red. I love the color! On brown eggs, it's quite like the red used in iconography for the garments of the Theotokos.

I still have a few things to take care of before church tonight, which I hope will include about 20 winks.

I'll try to post soon about our Pascha weekend.

How?

2009-04-15T20:26:00.006-05:00

How could any Christian chastise another Christian for venerating the cross?

That's all. Just this question.

I'm not providing a link to the conversation which provoked the question (though I know some of my regular visitors have seen it), I just want to ask.

How?

So if anyone has a GOOD answer to this, I'd love to hear it.

In My Head at the Moment

2009-04-15T09:29:00.003-05:00

Except that, in my head, it's in English.

Behold, the Bridegroom comes at midnight,

And blessed is that servant whom He shall find watching,

And again, unworthy is the servant whom He shall find heedless.

Beware, therefore, O my soul, do not be weighed down with sleep,

Lest you be given up to death, and lest you be shut out of the Kingdom.

But rouse yourself crying: Holy, Holy, Holy, art Thou, O our God,

Through the Theotokos have mercy on us.

Troparion of Bridegroom Matins
HT: David Bryan of Oh Taste and See

Palm Weaving

2009-04-12T16:55:00.007-05:00

Blogpal Deb asked about the Palm fans used in the Palm Sunday procession at our church today, and I promised to post a couple of photos of that. As I explained to her on FB, we are blessed to have some members who know their way around palm branches! And I am fascinated to watch them weave these fans every year.

Next year I have vowed to put the camera down and try to make one of these myself! My friend Phyl made one this year and it looks like she got the hang of it!

Scenes from a Palm Sunday

2009-04-12T15:24:00.009-05:00

Here are some shots of the Palm Sunday procession at my church this year:

Alleluia

2009-04-12T00:01:00.001-05:00

For my friends in the Christian west who celebrate our Lord's resurrection this day I post (Bach's Choral Prelude on) my favorite western Easter hymn (which I still love).

(Ignore the photo of the church, ignore the ornate cabinetry on the organ's pipework, ignore the organ specs - ignore the video altogether - that's all completely beside the point, which is the beauty of the music and text. But I don't know how to post the audio without the video).

So for my western Christian friends and family, Happy Easter. Next year we will celebrate the resurrection on the same day (I love that!)

Christ Jesus lay in death's strong bands for our offenses given;
But now at God's right hand he stands and brings us life from heaven.
Therefore let us joyful be and sing to God right thankfully
Loud songs of hallelujah! Hallellujah!

Our Savior Jesus, God's own Son, here in our stead descended;
The knot of sin has been undone, the claim of death is ended.
Christ has crushed to power of hell; now there is naught but death's gray shell -
It's sting is lost forever. Hallelujah!

Here the true Paschal Lamb we see, whom God so freely gave us,
Who died on the accursed tree - so strong God's love - to save us!
See, his blood now marks our door; faith points to it; death passes o'er,
And Satan cannot harm us. Hallelujah!

So let us keep the festival to which the Lord invites us;
Christ is the very joy of all, the sun that warms and lights us.
Now his grace to us imparts eternal sunshine to our hearts;
the night of sin is ended. Hallelujah!

Then let us feast this Easter day on Christ the bread of heaven;
The Word of grace has purged away the old and evil leaven.
Christ alone, our holy meal, the hungry soul will feed and heal;
faith lives upon no other! Hallelujah!

Reason #134 Why I Don't Belong On Facebook

2009-04-09T20:34:00.005-05:00

134. "Christian flair" (whatever "flair" is)

*sigh*

Chicken Run

2009-04-09T19:12:00.004-05:00

It arrived this morning.

We hired Al the Chicken Guy to build our chicken coop and run for us. Al is the fellow that taught the Urban Chicken farming class we attended a few weeks ago at a local co-op.

When we sat down and did the math with materials, plan (who knew they cost money?), the time we don't have to build our own chicken coop, our complete lack of knowledge about what we'd be doing in building our own, and just the hassle factor that we have come to expect whenever we take on such projects, we figured we'd be money and time ahead to just pay someone to do this for us. Someone who knows what he's doing. Someone who has done this before and has chickens of his own.

So he delivered the run this morning - and also a nice fresh dozen eggs for us. In return, we let him choose one of our finished pysanky.

The henhouse is scheduled to arrive next Wednesday.

Seeing that we have lots and lots of church next week, we will probably have to wait until the weekend after Pascha to get some inhabitants for it. Now all we have to do is come to agreement on whether to get chicks or pullets.

We have a little over a week to get that sorted out.

Understanding

2009-04-04T12:34:00.006-05:00

In the few moments I had on Friday to check my regular blog reads, I noticed that Benjamin Harju announced publicly that he has left the LCMS to unite with the Orthodox Church.

Having watched the painful online train wrecks which have occurred when other LCMS clergy have left the Lutheran Church for Orthodoxy, I wondered if I should bother looking in on the comments of the posts from the various folks who addressed this particular family's decision. In one sense I have seen it before and so nothing said by anyone about this was likely to shock me (again). Yet in another sense, I also know that reading such stuff deeply affects me and causes me great despair.

But since I have remembered this family in prayer in recent weeks, I did read most of the comments I saw. Oh sure, those notorious for their attacks upon those who have struggled and left the LCMS showed up for this, in the name of "defending the faith," or whatever, to have their say. And their say is the same old schtick I've read various other times that this has come up. While their "say" often comes under the guise of defending the denomination, it clearly comes at the expense of Christian witness. Commenters who react and accuse those whose actions they do not understand seem to think that by their comments they have won a battle of sorts, but of course, by these comments and accusations they lose the war - missing the bigger picture completely. So it was fairly easy for me to just blow these predictable reactions off when I saw them this time. Yet there were others who obviously care who honestly said, "I just can't understand how you could do this."

For those who are sincerely trying to understand, it's difficult to live with the notion that you may NEVER understand why someone would leave the Lutheran faith for Orthodoxy (and by the way, that's not always an easy thing for those of us who have left, either, for many of us continue to love many Lutherans). But perhaps it's best to consider that understanding why someone does what they do isn't what's really important here. What's really important, I think, is our response.

I was greatly moved and encouraged to note that some do understand the bigger picture. For example, the first comment to Benjamin Harju's post, from Pr. Christopher Hall:
"I know this was difficult for you, and no doubt you will lose many "friends" because of this decision, but not this one."

May God bless your simple witness, Pr. Hall. For whether or not you understand the decision of your former colleague, I think you clearly understand something much more important.

I was also pleased to note that Pr. Hall wasn't the only one who understands the bigger point.

Why Does God Sing?

2009-03-30T20:39:00.002-05:00

A wonderful recent post by Fr. Stephen Freeman:

Why Does God Sing?

Why would God sing? The question may sound strange and yet it is said in Zephaniah (3:17), “He will rejoice over thee with singing.” I first noticed this verse when I was a very young Christian and have puzzled about it for nearly forty years. Equally puzzling to our modern way of thought is the question, “Why does anybody sing?” I have been to plenty of operas and have to admit that even the ones in English need subtitles - singing does not necessarily make something more easily understood. And yet we sing.

God sings. Angels sing. Man sings.

Other than some adaptations that have been made in a few places in the modern period, any Orthodox service of worship is sung (or chanted) from beginning to end (with the exception of the sermon). Like opera, this musical approach to the liturgy does not mean that it will be better understood. And yet, the Christian Tradition, until the Reformation, was largely universal in its use of singing as the mode of worship. In the Western Church there was a development of the “Low Mass” in which little chanting was used - though this never found a place in the East.

This is not solely a Christian phenomenon. As a teenager I had a close friend who was Jewish. As a young teenager he began training to become a Cantor (the main singer in a congregation - second only in importance to the Rabbi himself). I was curious about Hebrew so he began to instruct me privately. Hebrew is a great language - particularly as published in Hebrew Scriptures.

I mastered the alphabet and began to understand that most vowels were not letters at all, just dots and lines, strategically placed to indicate their sound. I felt somewhat proud the first time I read a line aloud without prompting. I recall that when I finished I pointed at yet another set of markings that my friend had yet to mention.

“What are these?” I asked.

“They’re for the Cantor,” he explained. He also had to explain what a Cantor was and, fortunately, was able to demonstrate when I asked him how the musical markings worked. The sound would have compared easily to Byzantine chant - perhaps with lines of kinship. This past autumn I became acutely aware of another singing religion: Islam. My wife and I made pilgrimage to the Holy Land in September. The first morning (it was the Islamic holy month of Ramadan) a canon went off at sunrise (that will wake you up in Jerusalem!) and suddenly a plaintive chant blared across the city as the Muezzin chanted the morning call to prayer.

Indeed, if you made a study of world religions, you’d be hard pressed to find any people who prayed or worshipped without singing (almost exclusively) other than forms of Christianity that have been influenced by the Protestant Reformation. In light of that fact it might be more appropriate to ask, “If God sings, and the angels sing, the Jews sing, the Muslims sing: why don’t Protestants chant their services?” What is it about modern man that changed his religious tune?

I’ll come back to that question in just a few moments. However, I would first like to take a tour through some experiences I’ve had with music and pastoral care. Wherever in our brain that the ability to sing and understand music resides - it is not the same place as pure speech. I have been making pastoral visits with patients for nearly thirty years. During that time I have frequently noticed stroke patients, who had lost one particular brain function (governed by the area effected by the stroke) be perfectly normal in another area not affected by the stroke. It’s as simple as being paralyzed on one side of your body but not on the other (a common result of strokes).

In the same way, I have seen any number of patients who could not speak or respond to speech, who, nevertheless, could sing and respond to music. The most extreme case I ever saw was in a patient suffering from multiple infarct dementia (thousands of tiny strokes). He was a paraplegic and virtually unresponsive. However, his devout Christian wife had discovered that he responded to both music and to prayer. He would say, “Amen,” at the end of a prayer and tried to join in when you sang a familiar hymn.

God sings. The angels sing. Jews sing. Muslims sing. George, with multiple infarct dementia sings. And so the mystery grows.

A surprising musical experience for me came in visiting St. Thekla’s Summer Camp (in South Carolina). We have youth in our Church, including some who attend the summer camp. However, my experience in Church, is that, like most teens surrounded by adults, they remain quiet. However at the summer camp, surrounded by their peers, they sang with all the gusto of their youth. It was completely natural. Kids sing.

So what happened in the Protestant West that made them change their tune? To their credit they did not completely stop singing. Some of the finest hymns in Christian history were written during the Reformation. Hymns that sang doctrine and offered praise to God - all these were part of the hymnody of Protestant worship. And yet something different did take place. What was different was a shift in understanding how or if we know God and the place that worship plays in all that.

For many in the Reformation God could be known only as He made Himself known in Scripture. Knowing God as He had made Himself known in Christ was a description of knowing what Christ said and did in the New Testament. God was distanced from the sacraments in most cases. He was distanced from worship. We could offer worship to God in our assemblies, but not necessarily because He was present.

The distance that arose between man and God at the time of the Reformation had many causes. Among the most important were the politics of severing God, the individual and the Church (particularly the Roman Catholic Church). Such a severing created the secular sphere as we know it today and at last established the state as superior to the Church with, for the most part, the happy cooperation of the newly minted Churches. For most centuries the Reformation has been studied on the basis of its religious issues - indeed “religion” has unfairly borne the blame for years of hatred and wars. The role of politics has been downplayed - indeed even seen as the force which intervened and spared Europe from further religious madness. The state, as secular state, was seen as the hero of the Reformation. However it is quite possible to understand the history of that period as the history of the rise of the secular state and the state’s manipulation of religion for the interests of the state (Eamon Duffy’s work on this topic is quite revealing).

The Reformation itself brought something of an ideological revolution, a redefinition of man as a religious being. The new thought saw man as an understanding, rational, choosing individual. Thus religious services began to have a growing center of the spoken word. God was reasoning with man through the medium of the spoken word. In most places of the new reforms, efforts were made to establish a radical break with the sacramental past. However God might be present with His people - it was not to be in the drama of the Liturgy. Vestments were exchanged for academic gowns, or no vestment at all. The minister was an expounder of the word, not a priest. The altar that had once clearly been an altar, a place where the bloodless sacrifice took place - a holy place where Christ Body and Blood were present - became a simple table - usually with the minister standing in a position that was meant to indicate that he was performing no priestly action.

The words surrounding the Liturgy were spoken and not sung. Singing at such moments were associated with acts of magic. Thus the “hoc est enim corpus meum” of the Roman Rite, was ridiculed as “hocus pocus,” ever to be associated with magic. Chanting was for witches, not for Christians.

Music did not disappear at the Reformation. As noted earlier, many great hymns were written as part of that movement - and have marked every major “revival” within Protestantism. People sing. But what do people sing?

There is no doubt that vast changes in much of Protestant Church music have taken place in the latter half of the 20th century. The same was true in parts of the 19th century. In efforts to remain “contemporary” much music has taken contemporary form. The influence of Pentecostal worship forms have also shaped contemporary “praise” music.

In many ways a revolution as profound as the Reformation itself has taken place within Protestant Christianity. Whereas the founders of the Reformation saw reason as the primary mode of communicating the gospel - contemporary Protestantism has become far more comfortable with emotion. An interesting player in this modern revolution has been the “science” of marketing which has made careful study of how it is that people actually make decisions and on what basis do they “choose” as consumers. From an Orthodox perspective, it is the science of the passions.

In this light it is important to say that people sing for many different reasons and that not all music in worship is the same. Orthodoxy has long held the maxim that music should be “neptic,” that is, should be guided by sobriety and not by the passions. Thus, there have been criticisms from time to time within the Russian Church that the great works of some modern Church composers are too “operatic” or too emotional. That conversation continues.

But why do we sing?

Here we finally come to the question that has no easy answer - just a suggestion based on human experience. We sing because God sings. We sing because the angels sing. We sing because all of creation sings. We are not always able to hear the song - usually because we do not sing enough. I will put forward that singing is the natural mode of worship (particularly if we follow the model of the angels) and that there is much that can enter the heart as we sing that is stopped dead in its tracks by the spoken word.

It is not for nothing that the one book of Old Testament Scripture that finds more usage in the Church (at least among the Orthodox) than the New Testament, is the book of Psalms, all of which are meant to be sung (and are sung within Orthodox worship). Years ago when I was a young Anglican priest - I introduced the sung mass at a mission Church where I was assigned. A teenager confided to me after the service that the chanting had made her feel “spooky.” She was clearly stuck in a Reformation “only witches chant” mode. She also had not learned to worship. In time, it grew on her and she grew with it.

The heart of worship is an exchange. It is an exchange where we offer to God all we are and all we have and receive in return Who He is and what He has. The exchange takes place as we sing to Him and He sings to us.

I have heard the singing of angels. I am not certain that I have heard God singing - though it is something of an open question to me. But without fail, I hear His voice singing in the person of the priest: “Take, eat. This is my Body which is broken for you, for the remission of sins.” And I have heard the choir sing, in the voice of the people: “I will take up the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord.”

God sings and so should everything else.

Lenten Recipe of the Week

2009-03-26T18:05:00.003-05:00

Macaroni and "Cheese"

Ingredients
3-1/2 cups elbow macaroni, uncooked
1/2 cup margarine
1/2 cup flour
3–1/2 cups water, boiling
1-1/2 teaspoons salt
2 Tablespoons soy sauce
1-1/2 teaspoons garlic powder
1/4 cup oil
1 cup nutritional yeast flakes
1 pinch turmeric

Directions
Cook and drain macaroni.
In a saucepan, melt margarine and add flour.
Cook roux until bubbly and smooth.
Whip in boiling water, salt, soy sauce, garlic powder and turmeric.
Cook until thick.
Whip in oil and nutritional yeast flakes and stir to make sauce.
Mix noodles and sauce, topping with sauce.
Put into a casserole dish and bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes – half an hour
Broil a few minutes to brown just before serving.

A Little Levity

2009-03-26T16:36:00.003-05:00

This is probably why I never made it as a sin-ger.

HT: Believe it or not, my college voice teacher, via FB!

A Few More Pysanky

2009-03-22T16:25:00.004-05:00

Put Up Yer Dukes!

2009-03-21T07:23:00.007-05:00

Another fruitless online boxing match between the East and the West.

In this corner we have the confessional Lutherans, using Holy Scriptures and the Book of Concord (like that's gonna hold any water with the Orthodox in the first place) as a weapon with which to do battle with the Orthodox. In the other corner, we have the Orthodox, using the Church Fathers and Holy Tradition (like that's gonna hold any water with the Lutherans)in the same way. It's like some useless Christian scrimmage.

Guess who won? Nobody! (surprise, surprise).

It seems that lots of faithful Christians get some sort of an endorphine rush by flexing their intellectual and theologically bookish muscles online, waxing eloquent (usually by quoting Scripture and Church Confessions or the Church Fathers) about their profound knowledge of God. Specifically, in a sort of "can you believe that some Christians actually think this?" sort of way.

So this time it's about original sin (the Lutheran understanding of which I never bought even when I was a Lutheran. But the point is that what I buy or don't buy isn't what's important here and may not in any way be what is the Truth.)

Am I the only person who considers this sort of online sparring match to be an incredible waste of time and energy? Do people really think they are going to change another person's mind by regurgitating volumes of what they have read?

Worse, why don't those involved in such discussions view themselves as willing and eager pawns in the "why I am better than you" or "I'm a real Christian and you're not" or "We have the Truth and you don't" game? Remarkably, some (not just one!) will turn around and in a subsequent post attest to their desire for unity in the Church.

If unity in the Church is what we truly want and such online sparring is simply an excercise, then perhaps we should take off our gloves and start by praying for unity first.

Or at least consider who our punching bag is before we come out swinging.

End of rant.

St. Patrick, Enlightener of Ireland

2009-03-17T19:59:00.003-05:00

Having missed the first loosely-set deadline for completing his first icon, YoungerSon finished it last night just in time for the second deadline, St. Patrick's Day. The varnish is drying on it now.

He struggled with this - alot - and learned many valuable lessons. I pitched in and helped out a few times, but mostly I just started a section for him, showing him how to do it, and left him to complete the section. My friend Phyl had to bail both of us out and help with the beard (as I told our priest recently, it takes a village to paint an icon).

It is a bit different from the beautiful prototype he used, yet it has a beauty all it's own. A beauty that only comes with struggle and perseverance - with falling down and getting up, with giving up and starting again.

Though different from the more traditional icon of St. Patrick, we were both most interested to notice that it bears a little resemblance to the statue of St. Patrick from Pr. Weedon's post today.

The First Robin of Spring

2009-03-17T19:43:00.003-05:00

I saw him today.

Actually, YoungerSon heard him first (recognizing his song from the aforementioned clock in the kitchen).

Knowing that I have been keeping my eye out for a robin for at least a couple of weeks, he came to get me when he heard it singing outside and we went searching for him together, finding him on a bare limb in the neighbor's tree.

This isn't the very robin we saw, because it's dusk and I'd never get a decent shot at this time of the day. So I'm sharing this one from a Google image search.

Spring is finally here (but in Minnesota, that doesn't necessarily mean it's done snowing!)

Food For the Fast - Week 2

2009-03-13T18:48:00.004-05:00

I didn't think to take a picture of this recipe before eating it all up! But here's the recipe I've chosen to post for the second week of the fast. It was our supper tonight - and it was delicious!

Garlic Ginger Mock Duck

Marinade Ingredients
1 cup Orange juice (or other fruit juice)
4 teaspoons cornstarch
6 Tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon ginger
2 cloves garlic
crushed red pepper flakes, to taste

Other Ingredients
1 can mock duck, cut into chunks
5 green onions, sliced
3-4 medium carrots, sliced (we julienned)
1 can sliced water chestnuts
other vegetables as desired

Directions
Pre-cook the vegetables and water chestnuts, as needed.
Marinate the mock duck, then drain, reserving marinade.
In a hot skillet, sear the mock duck (really sear it! So that a lot of it sticks to the pan)
Add green onions, carrots, water chestnuts and other vegetables.
Then add marinade and boil for 1 minute.
Serve over rice or noodles.

A couple of modifications we'd make: replace the OJ with vegetable stock (the OJ wasn't bad in this dish, but it hid the glorious flavor of the ginger and with the abundance of flavors already going on in this dish, it was unnecessary, we thought); and we'd cut the soy sauce in half - at least.

But we're definitely making this again!

Oh, and by the way, this recipe came from our church's new cookbook, "The Community Table," which has some treasures in the section on lenten recipes.

Save Your Skins!

2009-03-12T17:35:00.006-05:00

I recently subscribed to About.com's Greek food site, primarily because it had a link to some Lenten recipes I thought might be helpful during this time of the year. And I suppose it has been somewhat helpful - even though I have yet to try any of those Greek Lenten recipes I saw.

But here's an interesting portion of their post from Clean Monday (which just showed up in my inbox today!?) I enjoyed the following article on using onion skins to make your red eggs for Pascha. Thinking perhaps others might find this informative, if not helpful, I share it below.

(As a member of the OCA, I admit that I giggled and rolled my eyes - just a little - when I read little turns of phrase like "Greek Orthodox Lent" and "Greek Orthodox Easter." Hello, folks - there are actually a few Orthodox people out there who are Orthodox, but who aren't Greek Orthodox!)

Use Onion Skins to Dye Red Easter Eggs
Monday March 2, 2009

Looking for a new tradition to add to your Spring celebration? Red eggs mark every Greek Easter meal, starting with the meal to break the fast after midnight Easter services. This year, Greek Orthodox Easter will be observed on April 19th, so I'll probably tell you about these again later on (we make them on Thursday of Holy Week), but for those who dye eggs earlier, give these a try! They're great fun for kids as well, who get a chance to use a natural dyeing process.

The skins used to make the dye are from yellow (Spanish) onions. Whenever I cook with these onions, I save the skins in a plastic bag and put them in the fridge... to use for dyeing the red eggs that are one of the most traditional elements of the Greek Easter celebration. It may be a bit surprising, but those drab looking onion skins (below) actually do produce those beautiful red eggs (above right).

Sure, there are lots of other dyes I could use, but this method, that dates back at least to the Middle Ages, delivers a fabulous, deep red color. Learn to dye red eggs with onion skins.
Red eggs are symbolic of the Easter holiday, but we make dozens, and people often ask what we do with them. Well, we cook with some, we eat some, and we play a game with some. Learn more about this Greek game with red eggs.

Saint Joseph the Betrothed

2009-03-10T19:33:00.002-05:00

Saint Joseph the Betrothed was of the lineage of King David. In his first marriage, he had four sons and two daughters. After he became a widower, St Joseph led a life of strict temperance. He was chosen to be the husband and guardian of the Most Holy Theotokos, who had taken a vow of virginity.

An angel told him of the Incarnation of the Son of God through her. St Joseph was present when the shepherds and the Magi worshiped the new-born divine Infant. On the orders of the angel, he fled into Egypt with the Mother of God and the Infant Jesus, saving them from the wrath of King Herod. He lived in Egypt with the Virgin Mary and the divine Child, working as a carpenter. St Joseph reputedly died at the age of one hundred.

St Joseph is commemorated on the Sunday after the Nativity. If there is no Sunday between December 25 and January 1, his Feast is moved to December 26. The Righteous Joseph is also commemorated on the Sunday of the Holy Forefathers.

Source: The Orthodox Church in America

Double Tragedy in Maryville

2009-03-10T14:26:00.005-05:00

Read about it here.

The first and most grievous part of this tragedy is that a pastor was shot and killed at his church this past Sunday morning.

The second tragedy is that at least initially, the congregation couldn't tell the difference between worship and and a murder.

Sad and tragic on both counts.
Lord, have mercy.

Book Confessions

2009-03-09T06:10:00.004-05:00

Tagged by Emily!

Book Confessions
1. To mark your page you: use a bookmark, bend the page corner, leave the book open face down?
All of the above, though mostly I leave the book open face down (shame on me, it's bad for the binding).

2. Do you lend your books?
Yes, I do - and I've lost a few favorites this way - but I think it's a risk worth taking.

3. You find an interesting passage: do you write in your book or NO WRITING IN BOOKS!
I don't usually write in books, though years ago in college I used to be a highlighter.

4. Dust jackets - leave it on or take it off.
I leave 'em on and often use them as bookmarks. But they seem to be always in the way. But I always remove the dust jacket when I first get a book to look at the book's cover. It's important to me to know what my book looks like without it, too.

5. Hard cover, paperback, skip it and get the audio book?
Paperback is fine. It's what's inside the book that I'm looking for.

6. Do you shelve your books by subject, author, or size and color of the book spines?
Sadly, I'm just glad to get my books on the shelves at all. I recently went searching for a book and had to go through all of the books on all of the shelves - many times (never found the book, either).

7. Buy it or borrow it from the library later?
Yes. Sometimes I borrow it first and buy it later.

8. Do you put your name on your books - scribble your name in the cover, fancy bookplate, or stamp?
Scribble my name in the front cover - often the year of purchase, too.

9. Most of the books you own are rare and out of print books or recent publications?
I have a bunch of each.

10. Page edges - deckled or straight?
Mox-nix.

11. How many books do you read at one time?
One book at a time is all my pea-brain can handle.

12. Be honest, ever tear a page from a book?
Books - no. Magazines? Yes

By Whose Prayers Are You Being Saved?

2009-03-07T07:59:00.002-06:00
A wonderful and timely post today from Fr. Stephen Freeman of Glory to God For All Things.

Bird Calls

2009-03-07T06:22:00.006-06:00
We have this clock at our house, a gift from a former neighbor. You've seen (or heard) these clocks before - at each hour the clock sings with various bird calls.

Now I have never been much of a fan of this clock which hangs in our kitchen. For one thing, it's really nothing to look at. For another thing, we have lots of clocks around here - 3 others in the kitchen alone - so we really don't need it.

Yet we've had it for years and it's become an integrated part of our lives. When the robin sings it's really, really time for everyone to be out of bed in the morning. The hoot owl tells me that it's either time for lunch or it's way past my bedtime. The canada goose honks to tell me it's suppertime (or time to get serious about getting supper on the table). And so it goes. The calls of the various birds call me to attention for different tasks throughout the day.

Most notable at our house is the call of the cardinal, who sings at 3:00. No matter what is happening in our house, when the cardinal sings at 3, the dog runs to the front window and, looking out, stares up the street waiting expectantly for the boys to come home from school. And he stands there staring until they are visible - once he sees them, his tail starts to wag. The closer they get to the front door, the more fervent the wagging, until they come in the front door and cannot really get into the house because the dog pretty much fills the entire entry (a fact which can be verified by anyone who has been a guest in our house) wagging and turning circles and licking their hands.

Even though I have never cared all that much for this clock (it nags at me!), it and the dog's response to it are a good metaphor for me of this time of the church year. The mockingbird calls and the church knows that it is Sunday of the Prodigal Son, the chickadee chirps and the church knows that it is Sunday of the Last Judgement, and then the cardinal calls and it is Forgiveness Sunday, the beginning of Lent. And we, too, go to the window and look out, staring up the street and waiting in anticipation for what we know is coming soon.

The trick for me is learning to use wisely those moments spent staring out the window. There is much work to be done in those few important moments.

Food for the Fast

2009-03-02T17:56:00.006-06:00
I decided that I'm going to try and post one Lenten recipe or food idea each week during the fast this year, as I always find them to be very helpful when others do this at this time of the year.

This week's recipe is from a new cookbook, Taste and See: Traditional, Ethnic, and Favorite Recipes. It's a Centennial cookbook published by Holy Assumption Orthodox Church of Lublin, WI. I got the cookbook last summer and this is the first recipe from the book we tried and we've made it lots of times already. Now I am not a big bean soup eater, but I have found that I really like this recipe!

This soup was our supper this first evening of the fast, served with this bread.

Bean Soup
1 lb. great northern beans
1 c. diced onions
1 c. diced celery
1 c. diced carrots
1/2 c. diced green pepper
2 T. parsley leaves
2 T. oil (we do eat oil during the fast at our house)
2 c. tomatoes
1 T. flour
1 onion, diced finely

Wash beans and put to boil in cool water for 10 minutes. In another pan, boil 2 quarts water. Strain beans, add new boiling water, add all vegetables and boil until beans are done - about 2 hours.
In frying pan, put oil and flour and fry until deep brown. Add onion and fry ten minutes. Add tomatoes and cook 10-15 minutes, mixing constantly. Add mixture into soup and mix well. If you like it a little sour, add a bit of vinegar.

Remembering A Writer

2009-02-27T08:45:00.010-06:00
I was saddened to hear today of the death of Minnesota author, Bill Holm.

I first met Bill while visiting friends in his hometown, Minneota, MN. The friend I was visiting was then the pastor at a local church that Bill attended from time to time. He told me that a first visit to Minneota wouldn't be complete without meeting Bill Holm - and though I'd never heard of Bill Holm at the time, I trusted that he was right. So we "popped by" his house and were fortunate to find him at home. A home that was jam-packed full of books - stacks and stacks of them - books about every subject imagineable. And I remember thinking as we sat around his kitchen table all afternoon how amazing it was that he could speak so knowledgably and eloquently about every topic that came up - and how amazing it was that hours had flown by as if they were seconds.

A year later, when Bill was the speaker at my church's anniversary banquet, he stayed at our home (which was then the church apartment, a former pastor's residence), and we were delighted to enjoy the company and conversation of this incredibly insightful and larger-than-life sort of man again.

He was simply one of those people you never forget once you've met him.

An excerpt from his 2006 holiday letter: "I recommend a half hour a day of Bach for the entire human race. Might save us."

And a quote from the local evening news last night:

"The world of letters has suffered a devastating loss today, with the death of Bill Holm ... Bill was that rarest of combinations: devastating in his critique of provincialism, militarism, and the abuse of power in all forms; but also profoundly tender, musical, and filled with compassion for all living creatures. His work will live on -- in Chinese, Icelandic, and Italian editions, not to mention ours -- but we will miss him deeply."