Category Archives: IC 51 2008

Content of IC 51 2008 In Communion

‘Forgive Us …. As We Forgive’: Forgiveness In The Psalms And The Lord’s Prayer

Met. Kallistos in speaking in Wroclaw, Poland (photo: Jim Forest)
Met. Kallistos in speaking in Wroclaw, Poland (photo: Jim Forest)

by Kallistos Ware, Metropolitan of Diokleia

And throughout all Eternity
I forgive you, you forgive me.
As our dear Redeemer said:
‘This the Wine, and this the Bread.’

William Blake

The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naïve forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.
Thomas Szasz

‘He is free because he forgives’

In the book by Kevin Andrews, The Flight of Ikaros1, there is a story that sums up the essence of forgiveness. Andrews was studying medieval fortresses in Greece. The year was 1949. He was travelling through a land devastated by the German occupation during the Second World War, and cruelly divided by the post-war struggle between Communists and anti-Communists that had only just drawn to a close. Arriving one evening in a village, he was given hospitality by the parish priest Papastavros. The priest’s house had been burnt down, and so he received his guest in the shed that was now his home.

Gradually Andrews learnt the priest’s story. His two eldest sons had joined the Resistance during the German occupation. But some villagers betrayed their hiding-place; they were captured and never seen again. About the same time, his wife died from starvation. After the Germans had left, Papastavros was living alone with one of his married daughters and her baby son. She was expecting her second child in a few weeks. One day he returned home to find his house in flames, set on fire by Communist partisans. ‘I was in time’, he recounted to Andrews, ‘to see them drag my daughter out and kill her; they shot all their bullets into her stomach. Then they killed the little boy in front of me.’

Those who did these things were not strangers coming from a distance, but they were local people. Papastavros knew exactly who they were, and he had to meet them daily. ‘I wonder how he has not gone mad,’ one of the village women remarked to Andrews. But the priest did not in fact lose his sanity. On the contrary, he spoke to the villagers about the need for forgiveness. ‘I tell them to forgive, and that there exists no other way,’ he said to Andrews. Their response, he added, was to laugh in his face. When, however, Andrews talked with the priest’s one surviving son, the latter did not laugh at his father, but spoke of him as a free man: ‘He is free because he forgives.’

Two phrases stand out in this account: ‘There exists no other way’, and ‘He is free because he forgives.’

There exists no other way. Certain human situations are so complex and intractable, so fraught with anguish, that there exists only one way out: to forgive. Retaliation makes the problem worse; as Mahatma Gandhi observed, ‘An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.’ Solely through forgiveness can we break the chain of mutual reprisal and self-destroying bitterness. Without forgiveness, there can be no hope of a fresh start. So Papastavros found, faced by the tragedies of enemy occupation and civil war. Surely his words apply also to many other situations of conflict, not least in the Holy Land.

He is free because he forgives. In the words of the Russian Orthodox starets St Silouan of Mount Athos (1866-1938), ‘Where there is forgiveness … there is freedom.’ If only we can bring ourselves to forgive – if we can at least want to forgive – then we shall find ourselves in what the Psalms call a ‘spacious place’ or ‘a place of liberty’: ‘We went through fire and water, but Thou broughtest us out into a place of liberty’ (Psalm 66:12). Forgiveness means release from a prison in which all the doors are locked on the inside. Only through forgiveness can we enter into what St Paul terms ‘the freedom of the glory of the children of God’ (Rom. 8:21).

Yet how hard, how painfully hard, it is to forgive and to be forgiven! To quote another Russian Orthodox witness, Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh (1914-2003), ‘Forgiveness is not a little brook on the boundary between slavery and freedom: it has breadth and depth, it is the Red Sea.’ ‘Do not think that you have acquired virtue,’ said the Desert Father Evagrius of Pontus (346-99), ‘unless you have struggled for it to the point of shedding your blood.’ The same can be said of forgiveness. Sometimes the struggle to forgive is indeed nothing less than an inner martyrdom, to the point of shedding our blood.

Forgiveness Sunday in the Orthodox Church

How shall we set out in our exodus across the ‘Red Sea’ of forgiveness? Let us consider first the way in which the Orthodox Church offers to its members an annual opportunity to make a fresh start, on what is known as ‘The Sunday of Forgiveness’. This will lead us to look more closely at forgiveness in the Psalms and especially in the Lord’s Prayer. What, we may ask, is the meaning of the Greek verb used in the Lord’s Prayer for ‘forgive’, aphiēmi, ‘let go’? Does this mean that to forgive is to condone, or at any rate to forget? Next, taking as our guide the early Fathers, we shall see how the phrase ‘Forgive us … as we forgive’ underlines the fundamental unity of the human race. Finally, we shall try to appreciate what is signified by the word ‘as’ in the forgiveness clause of the Lord’s Prayer : ‘ … as we forgive’. Why should the scope of God’s forgiveness be seemingly restricted by my own willingness to forgive? We shall end with four practical guidelines.

The Sunday of Forgiveness occurs immediately before the seven-week Fast of Lent, the ‘Great Fast’ in preparation for the ‘Feast of Feasts’, the Lord’s Resurrection at Pascha. The human animal, it has been said, is not only an animal that thinks, an animal that laughs and weeps, but much more profoundly an animal that expresses itself through symbolic actions. With good reason, then, the Orthodox Church affords its members the chance each year to externalize their longing for forgiveness, through a liturgical rite that is both corporate and personal.

On the morning of Forgiveness Sunday, the appointed Gospel reading is Matthew 6: 14-21, beginning with Christ’s words: ‘If you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.’ Then in the evening, at the end of Vespers, there comes a ceremony of mutual pardon. Usually the priest gives a homily, concluding with an appeal to his flock to forgive him for all his mistakes and shortcomings in the past year. Then he comes down the sanctuary steps to the floor of the nave where the people are standing; for there can be no genuinely mutual forgiveness unless I put myself on the same level as the other. Kneeling before the congregation, he says ‘Forgive me, a sinner.’ The people likewise kneel before the priest, answering ‘May God forgive you. Forgive us.’ To this the priest responds ‘God will forgive’, or ‘May God forgive and bless us all.’ After that the people come up one by one to the priest, and each kneels before him, as he in turn kneels before each of them; and they exchange the same words, ‘Forgive me …. God will forgive.’ Then, having first knelt before the priest, the members of the congregation go round the church kneeling before one another, each asking and granting pardon. All this, for obvious reasons, is easier to carry out if, as in traditional Orthodox practice, the church is not cluttered up with pews.

There is of course a danger that a ceremony such as this may become over-emotional, in which case the results will probably prove ephemeral. Forgiveness, after all, is not a feeling but an action. It involves not primarily our emotions but our will. It is a decision, which then requires to be given practical effect. There is also the opposite danger that some worshippers, growing accustomed to this ceremony year by year, will go through it in a manner that is merely formal and automatic. Ritual can all too easily become ossified.

Nevertheless, when full allowance has been made for the dangers of emotionalism and formalism, it remains true that for very many Orthodox Christians this annual service of mutual pardon is deeply healing. On the basis of my personal experience, after more than forty years of pastoral work in a parish, I can testify that again and again it has a transfiguring effect upon relationships within the local church family. It is an occasion that many of our people approach with the utmost seriousness. Let us not underestimate the power of ritual. Even if there are times when it becomes ossified, on other occasions it can and does act as a potent catalyst, enabling us to give expression to what would otherwise remain unacknowledged and repressed. Those too hesitant or embarrassed to call at one another’s homes and embark on a lengthy verbal explanation can make a new beginning within the framework of shared prayer. The Vespers of Forgiveness serves in this way as a genuine breakthrough, the sudden vision of a fresh landscape.

The burden of unhappy memories means, not surprisingly, that the Vespers of Forgiveness is somewhat subdued and sombre. We cry out in sorrow: ‘Turn not away Thy face from Thy servant, for I am in trouble; hear me speedily: hearken unto my soul and deliver it.’ Yet, along with sorrow, there is also a note of glad expectation. ‘Let us set out with joy upon the season of the Fast,’ we sing in one of the hymns; and a little later we add, ‘Thy grace has shone forth and given light to our souls.’ As the mutual pardon is being exchanged between priest and people, in many churches the choir sings the Resurrection hymns that will be used seven weeks later at Paschal midnight: to forgive is to rise again from the dead. St John Climacus, abbot of Mount Sinai in the seventh-century – whose book The Ladder of Divine Ascent is specially appointed for reading in Lent – has a phrase that exactly describes the spirit of the Vespers of Forgiveness: charopoion penthos, ‘mourning that causes gladness’ or ‘joy-creating sorrow’.

Sometimes people have told me that they find the phrase commonly used at the service, ‘Forgive me … God will forgive’, to be problematic and even evasive. Surely, they object, when someone asks for forgiveness, it is not enough for us to assure them that they are forgiven by God, for they already know that; what is required is that we should forgive them. This, however, is to overlook an essential point. Forgiveness is first and foremost a divine act: ‘Who can forgive sins but God alone?’ (Mark 2:7). If, then, I am to forgive someone else, and the other person is to forgive me, in the last resort this is possible only in so far as we are both of us in God. More specifically, we are able to forgive each other solely because we are both of us already forgiven by God. Our forgiveness is rooted in His, and is impossible without it: ‘Apart from Me you can do nothing’ (John 15:5).

Since, therefore, forgiveness is not primarily our human action but a divine action in which we humans participate, it is vitally important that in the process of mutual forgiveness we should allow space for God to operate. At the beginning of the Eucharistic service in the Orthodox Church, the Divine Liturgy, the deacon says to the priest, ‘It is time for the Lord to act’ (see Psalm 119:126), thereby affirming that the true celebrant at the Holy Mysteries is not the priest but Christ Himself. The phrase applies equally to our mutual forgiveness: here, too, it needs to be said, ‘It is time for the Lord to act.’ Our attempts at reconciliation often fail, precisely because we rely too much upon ourselves, and do not leave proper scope for the action of the Lord. With St. Paul we need to say, ‘not I, but Christ in me’ (Gal. 2:20). Such, then, is the spirit in which we reply at the Vespers of Forgiveness, ‘God will forgive.’

Forgiveness in the Psalms

In order to deepen our appreciation of the mystery of forgiveness, let us turn both to the Old Testament and to the New; and let us consider how forgiveness is understood first in the Psalms and then in the Lord’s Prayer. Because of the central place that the Psalms have occupied in the liturgical life of the Church, in both the East and the West, the testimony that they bear to the meaning of forgiveness is particularly significant.

First of all the Psalms contain a number of striking passages in which the worshipper pleads to God for forgiveness. The best known and most eloquent of these pleas is Psalm 51, ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, after Thy great goodness’, which is recited no less than four times daily in the Byzantine Divine Office, at the Midnight Service, Matins, the Third Hour and Compline. Another such plea is Psalm 130, ‘Out of the deep …’:

If Thou, Lord, shouldest mark what is done amiss,
O Lord, who could abide it? (verse 4).

The same urgent cry for forgiveness recurs in many other Psalms:

For Thy name’s sake, O Lord,
Be merciful to my sin, for it is great (Psalm 25:10).

Deliver me from all mine offences …
Take Thy plague away from me (Psalm 39: 9, 11).

I said, ‘Lord, be merciful unto me:
Heal me, for I have sinned against Thee’ (Psalm 41:4).

O remember not our past sins, but have mercy upon us, and that soon:
For we are come to great misery (Psalm 79:8).

In these and similar passages of the Psalms, it is made abundantly clear how greatly we need the healing grace of divine forgiveness. Without God’s mercy we are helpless. It is also made clear that we have no claims upon God. Helpless as we are, we can do nothing to earn or deserve God’s mercy, nothing to oblige or constrain Him to forgive us. We can do no more than wait in patience and humility for His free gift of pardon. ‘I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait for Him … A broken and contrite heart, O God, shalt Thou not despise’ (Psalms 130:5; 51:17).

In the second place, the Psalms repeatedly insist these pleas for divine forgiveness do not remain unheard. The Lord is a God of loving-kindness and tender love, ever eager to show mercy and grant healing. This is the theme in particular of Psalm 103, used daily at Matins in the Orthodox Church, and also regularly in the Divine Liturgy:

Praise the Lord, O my soul:
And all that is within me praise His holy name …
Who forgiveth all thy sin:
And healeth all thine infirmities …
The Lord is full of compassion and mercy:
Long-suffering and of great goodness …
Like as a father hath compassion upon his children,
So hath the Lord compassion upon them that fear Him (verses 1, 3, 8, 13).

In a memorable phrase, it is said that God ‘covers’ our sin:

Blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven:
Even he whose sin is covered (Psalm 32:1).

Elsewhere it is said that our sins are ‘blotted out’:

To Thee shall all flesh come to confess their sins:
When our misdeeds prevail against us, in Thy mercy do Thou blot them out (Psalm 65:2).

A leitmotif in the ‘historical’ Psalms is the way in which, again and again in the story of salvation, the people of Israel has gone astray, and yet God in His faithful love has forgiven them (Psalms 78:38; 106: 43-44; 107: 13-16; cf. 85: 1-3). God, it is said elsewhere, is like a shepherd who goes in search of a lost sheep (cf. Matt. 18:12; Luke 15:4):

I have gone astray like a sheep that is lost:
O seek thy servant, for I do not forget Thy commandments (Psalm 119:176).

Yet we are not presumptuously to take God’s forgiveness for granted, for His mercy goes hand in hand with His justice (cf. Romans 11:22):

My song shall be of mercy and justice (Psalm 101:1).

Thirdly, if we are in this way forgiven by God, then we in our turn are called to extend forgiveness to our fellow humans. This is not in fact affirmed in the Psalms very clearly or very frequently, but there are occasions in which it is at least implied, in the context of money-lending:

The ungodly borroweth and payeth not again:
But the righteous giveth and is bountiful …
The righteous is ever bountiful and lendeth:
And his children shall be blessed (Psalm 31:21, 26).

It is good for a man to be generous when he lendeth (Psalm 112:5).

This can perhaps be enlarged to include not only generosity over debts but other forms of remission and forgiveness. At the same time a restriction has to be noted. We cannot grant forgiveness on behalf of others, in regard to offences that have been committed not against us but against them:

But no man may deliver his brother:
Nor pay a price unto God for him (Psalm 49:7).

Sadly, however, it has to be noted that there are grave limitations in the Psalms concerning the scope of forgiveness. If, as we have seen, there are only a few places where it is suggested that we should forgive others, there are unfortunately many other passages in which the Psalmist curses his enemies and prays for their destruction. God is invoked as a God of vengeance (Psalms 54:1; 94:1). We are to hate our enemies with a ‘perfect hatred’ (Psalm 139:22). Particularly cruel is the punishment called down upon the daughter of Babylon:

Blessed shall he be that taketh thy children:
And throweth them against the stones (Psalm 137:9).

Most notably, Psalm 109 contains an imprecation daunting its cruelty:

Let his days be few:
And let another seize his possessions.
Let his children be fatherless:
And his wife become a widow.
Let his children be vagabonds and beg their bread:
Let them be driven out even from their desolate places …
Let there be no man to pity him:
Or to have compassion upon his fatherless children (verses 7-9, 11).

Such a passage does not stand alone: compare, for example, Psalms 83: 9-17, 129: 5-8, and 140: 8-10. I have noted altogether over thirty passages in the Psalms asking God to inflict pain and suffering upon others, and this figure is almost certainly an underestimate. It is of course possible to explain away such passages by interpreting them symbolically, as referring not to our fellow human beings but to our evil thoughts or to the demons. But such was not their original intention

‘… seventy times seven …’

When we turn, however, from the Old Testament to the New, we are at once impressed by a manifest and remarkable contrast. Nowhere in the Gospels does Christ instruct us to hate our enemies: He tells us, on the contrary, ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you’ (Matt. 5: 44). The law of retaliation is firmly abrogated: we are not to ‘resist an evildoer’, but to ‘turn the other cheek’ (Matt. 5:39). There are to be no limits to our forgiveness: we are to forgive our brother ‘seven times a day’ (Luke 17:4); and not only that, but ‘seventy times seven’ (Matt.18:22). We do not find such statements in the Psalms. Nor, indeed, do we find in the Psalms the statement that occupies such a prominent place in the Lord’s Prayer: ‘Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors’ (Matt. 6:12). The Lord’s Prayer is comprehensive but extremely concise: if, then, in such a short prayer, nearly a quarter – no less than 13 words in the Greek text, out of 57 (or 58) 0 – is devoted to the theme of forgiveness, this shows how crucially important it is in God’s sight that we should forgive and be forgiven.

Such, certainly, is the view of Origen (d. 253/4): if Christ, he says, places such strong emphasis upon forgiveness in the model prayer that He has given us, this is because there cannot be any true prayer at all unless it is offered in a forgiving spirit.11 St Gregory of Nyssa ( 394) goes so far as to claim that the clause ‘Forgive us .. as we forgive” is the culminating point in the entire prayer; it constitutes ‘the very peak of virtue’.12 He adds, however, that – fundamental though the clause is – its true sense is not at all easy to grasp: ‘The meaning surpasses any interpretation in words.’13

A valuable insight into the significance of forgiveness is provided by the literal sense of the verb used in the Lord’s Prayer for ‘forgive’, aphiēmi. The primary idea conveyed by this word is ‘let go’, ‘set aside’, ‘leave behind’. It denotes such things as release from captivity, the cancellation of a debt, or the remission of punishment. The unforgiving grasp, retain, and hold fast; the forgiving let go. Yet, if we ‘let go’ the memory of an offence, does this not suggest that we are condoning the evil that has been done? That, surely, cannot be the correct meaning of forgiveness. In the words of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, ‘Forgiveness does not mean condoning what has been done. It means taking what has happened seriously and not minimizing it.’14 To condone an evil is to pass over it, to ignore it, or else it is to pretend that it is not an evil, to treat it as if it were good. But to forgive is something altogether different from this. There can be no genuine forgiveness that is not truthful and realistic. Let us not practise any evasion. If an evil has been done, then this has to be frankly admitted.

Moreover, if the process of forgiveness is to be brought to full completion, the evil has to be frankly admitted by both sides, by the aggressor as well as the victim. It is true that, when we suffer wrong, we should endeavour to forgive the other immediately, without any delay, not waiting for the other to acknowledge the wrong. It was precisely in this spirit that Jesus prayed at His crucifixion, ‘Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing’ (Luke 23:24). If, however, the forgiveness is to come to proper interpersonal fulfilment, more than this is required. Forgiveness needs to be accepted as well as offered; and the one who admits no guilt can accept no forgiveness.

If forgiveness, in the sense of ‘letting go’, is not the same as condoning, should we say that to forgive is to forget? Shall we make our own King Lear’s words, ‘Pray you now, forget and forgive’? The answer seems to be both yes and no. It all depends on what we remember (or forget) and on how we do so. Certainly there is no point in clinging to the memory of trivial misunderstandings and injuries. We should rather allow them to slip quietly away into oblivion, for we have better things with which to occupy our minds. There are, however, events in our personal lives, and in the lives of the communities to which we belong, that are far too important simply to be forgotten. It would not be right to say to the members of the Armenian nation, ‘Forget the massacres of 1915’, or to the Jewish people, ‘Forget the Shoah in the Second World War.’ These are matters that, for the sake of our shared humanity, none of us should forget, not least so as to ensure that such atrocities may never be allowed to happen again.

More decisive than what we remember is how we do so. We are not to remember in a spirit of hatred and recrimination, or for the sake of revenge. Dr Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, has rightly said: ‘Remember the past … but do not be held captive by it. Turn it into a blessing, not a curse; a source of hope, not humiliation.’15 Our memories are not to be repressed or negated, but at the same time they require to be purified and healed. We need to remember, yet not self-righteously, not with aggressive accusations, but in a spirit of compunction and mourning. We need to remember with love. But that is difficult.

Forgiveness, it can even be said, begins not with an act of forgetfulness, but with an act of mindfulness and self-knowledge. We have to recognize the harm that has been done, the wound that we or the other carry in our heart. Only after this moment of truthful recognition can we then begin to ‘let go’, not in the sense of consigning to oblivion, but in the sense of no longer being held prisoner by the memory. Remember, but be free.

Responsible for everyone and everything

In the Patristic interpretation of the Lord’s Prayer, a dominant theme is the unity of the human race. The early Fathers are in full agreement with the words of Julian of Norwich (fourteenth century), ‘In the sight of God, all man is one man, and one man is all man.’16 They agree equally with John Donne (1571/2-1631), ‘No man is an Island, entire of it self.’17 Our need to forgive and to be forgiven springs directly from the fact that we are all of us interdependent, members of a single human family. Indeed, this insistence upon coinherence is to be seen, not only in the clause ‘Forgive us … as we forgive’, but in the Lord’s Prayer as a whole. St Cyprian of Carthage (d. 258) notes how the prepositions in the Prayer are consistently in the plural, not the singular – not ‘my’ but ‘our’, not ‘me’ but ‘us’:

We do not say ‘My Father who art in heaven’, or ‘Give me this day my bread’, nor does each one ask that only his own debt be remitted, nor does he request for himself alone that he may not be led into temptation or may be delivered from the evil one. Prayer with us is public and common, and when we pray we do not pray for one but for the whole people, because the whole people are one.18

This perception of our human unity, in Cyprian’s view, has its foundation in the Christian doctrine of God. We believe in God the Trinity, who is not only one but one-in-three, not only personal but interpersonal; we believe in the communion of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and so we human beings are saved, not in isolation, but in communion one with another.19

This unity that marks us out as human persons, while underlined throughout the Lord’s Prayer, is particularly evident in the clause concerning forgiveness. In the words of Clement of Alexandria (ca. 150 – ca. 215), when we say ‘Forgive us … as we forgive’, we are proclaiming that ‘all humankind is the work of one Will’.20 This is a point emphasized by St Maximos the Confessor (ca. 580-662) in his commentary on the Lord’s Prayer. Unity and mutual love, he says, constitute ‘the principle (logos) of nature’, according to which we human beings have been created. When, therefore, we pray for forgiveness, we are bringing our human will into harmony with the logos of our nature. Conversely, to withhold forgiveness is to ‘sunder human nature by separating ourselves from our fellow humans, even though we are ourselves human’. Our refusal to live in union with each other through mutual forgiveness is therefore self-destructive: ‘Failing such union, our nature remains self-divided in its will and cannot receive God’s divine and ineffable gift of Himself.’21

St Gregory of Nyssa likewise sees the refusal of forgiveness as self-destructive: ‘In condemning your neighbour, you thereby condemn yourself.’22 Giving a wide-ranging application to the notion of human unity, Gregory maintains that it extends through time as well as space. When saying ‘Forgive us’ in the Lord’s Prayer, we are asking forgiveness not only for our own personal sins but also for ‘the debts that are common to our nature, and more particularly for the ancestral sin23 that the whole human race inherits from Adam. Even if we keep ourselves free from personal sins – in fact, as Gregory comments, none of us can claim this of ourselves, even for an hour – we would still need to say ‘Forgive us’ on behalf of Adam:

Adam lives in us … and so we do well to make use of these words Forgive us our trespasses. Even if we were Moses or Samuel or someone else of pre-eminent virtue, we would none the less regard these words as appropriate to ourselves, since we are human; we share in Adam’s nature and therefore share also in his fall. Since, then, as the Apostle says, ‘we all die in Adam’ (1 Cor. 15:22), these words that suitably express Adam’s penitence are likewise appropriate for all those who have died with him.24

A similar line of thought is found in St Mark the Monk (? early fifth century). In his opinion, we are called to repent not only ‘for our own sin’ but also ‘for the sin of transgression’, that is to say, for the ancestral sin of Adam. Repentance is vicarious:

The saints are required to offer repentance not only on their own behalf but also on behalf of their neighbour, for without active love they cannot be made perfect … In this way the whole universe is held together in unity, and through God’s providence we are each of us assisted by one another.25

Even though there is no explicit reference here to the Lord’s Prayer, Mark’s line of argument can surely be applied likewise to the petition ‘Forgive us … as we forgive.’ If we can repent for the sins of others, then we can and should also ask forgiveness on their behalf. The principle of mutual solidarity applies equally in both cases: ‘we are each of us assisted by one another’. No one is forgiven and saved in isolation.

These statements by Gregory of Nyssa and by Mark the Monk fall far short of a fully developed theology of original guilt, such as we find in St Augustine (354-430). Mark specifically excludes the view that, in a juridical sense, we are guilty of Adam’s sin, considered as an act of personal choice.26 Yet, on a level more profound than legal culpability, there exists a mystical solidarity that unites us all one to another; and it is of this that Gregory and Mark are speaking. ‘All man is one man’, and so we are each of us ‘responsible for everything and everyone’, to use the phrase of Dostoevsky’s Starets Zosima.27 Even if not personally guilty, nevertheless we bear the burden of what Adam and all the other members of the human family have done. They live in us, and we in them. Here as always the vital word is ‘we’, not ‘I’. None of us falls alone, for we drag each other down; and none of us is forgiven and saved alone. Forgiveness is not solitary but social.

How far can the notion of vicarious forgiveness be legitimately extended? Can I forgive or accept forgiveness on behalf of others? So far as asking forgiveness is concerned, it is surely reasonable to request forgiveness on behalf of others, when those others are joined to me in some way, for example by kinship, nationhood, or religious allegiance. If, tracing back our ancestry, we become aware that our family tree is tainted with unresolved tensions and alienation, we can and should pray for the forgiveness and healing of our forebears. By the same token, the descendant of a slave-trader might rightly feel impelled to ask forgiveness in his heart – and perhaps by some external gesture as well – from the families of those whom his ancestor took captive and sold into bondage. Pope John Paul II acted as a true Christian when, during the visit of the Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I to Rome in June 2004, he asked the Patriarch’s forgiveness for the sack of Constantinople by the Latin Crusaders eight hundred years previously.28 How I long for an Orthodox church leader to ask forgiveness in the same way from the Catholics, for the many evils that we Orthodox have inflicted upon them! And all of us, Orthodox and Catholics alike, have to seek forgiveness from the Jews, God’s Chosen People, for the heavy sins that, over the centuries, we have committed against them.

Have we the right, however, not only to ask forgiveness on behalf of others, but also to offer it on their behalf? Here there is reason for us to be much more hesitant. For myself, I agree with the late Rabbi Albert Friedlander – and with Psalm 49:9 – that one cannot forgive offences that have not been committed against oneself. It would be inappropriate, and indeed presumptuous, for me as a non-Jew to claim authority to forgive the suffering inflicted upon the Jews during the Shoah in the Second World War. It is not for me but for the Jews themselves to decide how those sufferings should be remembered, and how and when they should be forgiven. In the Lord’s Prayer, we do not say, ‘… as we forgive those who have trespassed against others’, but ‘… as we forgive those who have trespassed against us’.

Issuing an order to God

What light do the Fathers shed upon the central word in the forgiveness petition – indeed, the most puzzling word in the whole of the Lord’s Prayer – the word ‘as’: ‘Forgive us … as we forgive’? ‘No word in English’, states Charles Williams, ‘carries a greater possibility of terror than the little word “as” in that clause; it is the measuring rod of the heavenly City, and the knot of the new union. But also it is the key of hell and the knife that cuts the knot of union.’29 Truly it is a hazardous prayer. We dare to apply to ourselves with unmitigated rigour the principle laid down by Christ. ‘The measure you give will be the measure you get’ (Matt. 7:2). ‘What you do,’ warned St Cyprian, ‘that you will also yourself suffer.’30 As St John Chrysostom (ca. 347-407) put it, ‘We ourselves have control over the judgement that is to be passed upon us.’31

Not only is it a hazardous request to God, but it is also a very strange one. It is as if we were issuing an order to God and instructing Him how to act. ‘If I do not forgive others,’ we are saying to Him, ‘then do You withhold forgiveness from me.’ Nowhere else in the Lord’s Prayer do we issue orders in this way. St Gregory of Nyssa attempts to spell out the paradox in terms of what may be called ‘mimetic inversion’. Under normal circumstances, he observes, it is we who are called to imitate God; as St Paul said, ‘Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ’ (1 Cor. 11:1). This is particularly the case when we forgive others. Since in the last resort it is God alone who has the power to forgive sins (Mark 2:7), it is only possible for us to forgive others if we imitate God. We cannot genuinely forgive, that is to say, unless we have been taken up into God and have ourselves ‘in some sense become God’, to use Gregory’s phrase. The one who forgives needs to be ‘deified’ or ‘divinized’; there can be no effective forgiveness without theosis.32 That is the normal pattern. But here, in the case of the Lord’s Prayer – and Gregory admits that this is a ‘bold thing’ to say33 – the customary order is reversed. On this occasion, it is we who serve as an example to God. Instead of ourselves imitating Him, we are telling Him to imitate us: ‘What I have done, do You do likewise; imitate Your servant, O Lord …. I have forgiven; do You forgive. I have shown great mercy to my neighbour; imitate my loving-kindness, You who are by nature loving-kind.’34

Yet, in this clause ‘Forgive us … as we forgive’, precisely how strong a sense should be attached to the conjunction ‘as’? Should it be understood as causative, proportionate or conditional?

(1) Is the sense causative? In that case, we are saying to God, ‘Forgive us because we forgive’; our forgiveness is the cause of His. This is indeed the way in which some Patristic authors interpreted the phrase. Clement of Alexandria even suggested that, by forgiving others, we somehow compel God to forgive us.35 Yet a causative interpretation of this kind surely presents grave difficulties. As Calvin has rightly insisted, forgiveness comes from the ‘free mercy’ of God.36 It is an unmerited gift of divine grace, conferred solely through Christ’s Cross and Resurrection; it is never something that we can earn or deserve. God acts with sovereign liberty, and we have no claims upon Him. As Paul affirmed, quoting the Pentateuch: ‘For God says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” So it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God who shows mercy’ (Rom. 9:15-16; cf. Exod. 33:19). This is rendered abundantly clear in Christ’s parable concerning the labourers in the vineyard: to those who complain about their wages, the master replies, ‘Have I not the right to do as I choose with what is my own?’ (Matt. 20:15). Moreover, the initiative rests with God and not with us. He does not wait for us to forgive others before He extends His forgiveness to us. On the contrary, His act of free and unrestricted forgiveness precedes any act of forgiveness on our part: ‘God proves His love for us, in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us’ (Rom. 5:8).

(2) If the word ‘as’ cannot be causative, is it proportionate? Does it signify ‘to the same degree’, ‘according to the same measure’? Once more, this can hardly be the true sense. Between our forgiveness and God’s there can be no common measure. He forgives with a fullness and generosity far beyond our wildest imagining: ‘For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways, says the Lord’ (Isa. 55:8). The transcendent and incomparable character of divine forgiveness is underlined in another Matthaean parable, that of the two debtors (Matt. 18:23-35). In relation to God, we are like the slave who owed ten thousand talents (a talent being equivalent to more than fifteen years’ wages received by a labourer), whereas in relation to each other we are like the slave who owed a hundred denarii (a denarius being the usual day’s wage for a labourer). Even St Gregory of Nyssa, after suggesting that in His act of forgiveness God is imitating us, at once goes on to qualify this by asserting that our sins against God are immeasurably heavier than any sins by others against us.37 Later he refers for confirmation precisely to the parable of the two debtors.38

(3) If, then, our forgiveness is neither the cause nor the measure of God’s forgiveness, what further alternative remains? There exists a third possibility: it is the condition. Forgiveness is indeed unmerited, but it is not unconditional. God for His part is always overwhelmingly eager to forgive. This divine eagerness is movingly expressed in the story of the prodigal son (Luke 15 : 11-32), which is read at the Orthodox Liturgy on the Sunday two weeks before the Sunday of Forgiveness. The father does not simply sit and wait passively for his son to return home. We are to imagine him standing day after day outside his house, anxiously scanning the horizon in the forlorn hope that at long last he may catch sight of a familiar figure. Then, as soon as the prodigal comes into view, while he is still far off, the father rushes out to meet his son, embracing and kissing him, and inviting him into the feast. Such is God’s great willingness to forgive us and to welcome us home. Later in the story the father again goes out, this time in the hope of persuading his elder son to come and share the feast. This double going out on the part of the loving father is of primary significance if we are to appreciate the quality of divine mercy.

Yes, indeed, God is always eager to forgive – far more so than we are to repent. In the words of St Isaac the Syrian (seventh century), ‘There exists in Him a single love and compassion that is spread out over all creation, a love that is without alteration, timeless and everlasting.’39 Calling to mind Christ’s agony in the garden of Gethsemane and His death on the Cross, we ask ourselves: What more could God incarnate have done to win us back to Himself, that He has not done? Forgiveness, however, has not only to be offered but to be accepted. God knocks at the door of the human heart (Rev. 3:20), but He does not break the door down: we for our part have to open it.

Here precisely we find the true meaning of the word ‘as’ in the Lord’s Prayer. It is not that God is unwilling to forgive us. But if, despite God’s unfailing eagerness to forgive, we on our side harden our hearts and refuse forgiveness to others, then quite simply we render ourselves incapable of receiving the divine forgiveness. Closing our hearts to others, we close them also to God; rejecting others, we reject Him. If we are unforgiving, then by our own act we place ourselves outside the interchange of healing love. God does not exclude us; it is we who exclude ourselves.

Our forgiveness of others, then, is not the cause of God’s forgiveness towards us, but it is certainly the condition without which God’s forgiveness cannot pass within us. Divine pardon is indeed a free gift that we can never earn. What concerns us here, however, is not merit but capacity. Our relation to God and our relation to our fellow humans are strictly interdependent. As St Silouan of Mount Athos affirmed, ‘Our brother is our life.’40 This is true not in a sentimental but in an ontological sense. Love for God and love for neighbour are not two loves but one.

‘Forgive us … as we forgive’: when we say these words, so Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh has rightly cautioned us, ‘we take our salvation into our own hands’.41

Four words of counsel

As we begin to cross the Red Sea of forgiveness, let us remind ourselves of certain practical guidelines.

(1) Do not delay, but do not be in haste. Do not delay: the time for forgiveness is always now. Maximize the moment. The devil’s weapons are nostalgia and procrastination: he tells us ‘Too late’ or ‘Too soon’. But, where the devil says ‘Yesterday’ or ‘Tomorrow’, the Holy Spirit says ‘Today’.

We are not to think within ourselves, ‘First, I will change for the better; then I will be ready to forgive.’ Still less are we to think (what is far worse), ‘First, I will wait to see whether the other is really sorry for the wrong that he has done, and whether he has really changed for the better; then I will decide whether to forgive him.’ Let us, on the contrary, be like the loving father in the story of the prodigal. Let us take the initiative, and run out to meet the other. Forgiveness has to come first; it is the cause of the change in ourselves and in others, not the effect. To adapt a phrase of the Romanian Orthodox theologian Fr Dumitru Staniloae (1903-93), ‘In so far as I am not forgiven, I am unintelligible to myself.’42

Yet there is another side to the question. Forgive now, in your heart; but in your outward actions do not be overhasty. Forgiveness signifies healing, and healing often takes time. Premature requests for forgiveness can make the situation worse. If we force ourselves upon the other, without first seeking through imaginative empathy to discover what the other is thinking and feeling, we may widen rather than bridge the gulf that separates us. Without putting things off, often we need to pause – not with passive indifference but waiting with alertness upon God – until the kairos, the moment of opportunity, has become clear. The Emperor Augustus was right: Festina lente.43

(2) Forgive the other, but also be willing to accept the forgiveness that the other is offering to us. It is hard to forgive; but often it is even harder to acknowledge that we ourselves need to be forgiven. Let us be humble enough to accept the gift of another’s pardon. As Charles Williams wisely observed, ‘Many reconciliations have unfortunately broken down because both parties have come prepared to forgive and unprepared to be forgiven.’44

(3) Forgive others, but also forgive yourself. Have we not sometimes said, or heard others say, ‘I will never forgive myself for that’? Yet how can we accept forgiveness from others, if we will not forgive ourselves? In the words once more of Charles Williams, by remaining in this state of ‘half-anger, half-anguish’, we each create for ourselves ‘a separate hell’.45 Judas regretted what he had done, but in his case self-knowledge brought him not to fresh hope but to despair; unable to accept God’s forgiveness, and therefore unable to forgive himself, he went out and committed suicide (Matt. 27: 3-5). Peter on the other hand took a different path. Brought to self-knowledge by the crowing of the cock, he wept bitter tears of remorse; yet this remorse did not reduce him to despair. On the contrary, seeing the risen Christ at the lakeside, he did not turn away from Him into a ‘separate hell’, but drew near with hope. Accepting Christ’s forgiveness, forgiving himself, he made a new beginning (Matt. 26:75; John 21:15-19).

(4) Pray. If we cannot yet find within our heart the possibility of forgiving the other, then let us at least pray for them. In the words of St Silouan, ‘If you will pray for your enemies, peace will come to you.’46 Let us ask God that we may not make the other’s burden more heavy, that we may not be to them a scandal and a cause of stumbling. And if, as we pray, we cannot yet bring ourselves to the point of actually forgiving, then let us ask God that we may experience at least the desire and longing to forgive. There are situations in which truly to want something is already to attain it. Like the man who brought his sick child to Christ and cried out, ‘Lord, I believe; help my unbelief’ (Mark 9 : 24), let us also cry out with tears: ‘Lord, I forgive; help my unforgivingness.’ Slowly, gradually, there will come at last the moment when we are able to remember with love.

By invoking God’s help in prayer and by admitting our own helplessness, we are reminded of the all-important truth that forgiveness is a divine prerogative. It is not simply our action, but the action of God in us. To forgive, in a full and genuine sense, we need to be ‘in God’. ‘It is God who has shone in our hearts … the all-surpassing power is from Him and not from us’ (2 Cor. 4 : 6-7). This ‘all-surpassing power’ of God is communicated to us above all through the ‘mysteries’ or sacraments of the Church; and, in the Patristic interpretation of ‘Our Father’, at least two of these ‘mysteries’ are mentioned implicitly in the course of the Prayer. When we say, ‘Give us today our daily bread’, we are to think not of material bread alone but of the ‘bread from heaven’, the Eucharist. Then, in the petition that follows, ‘Forgive us … as we forgive’, we are to recall the forgiveness of sins that we have received in Holy Baptism. The Lord’s Prayer, according to St Augustine, is in this way a continual renewal of Baptism: reciting the words that Christ has given us, ‘daily we are washed clean’.47 Our forgiveness, then, does not depend merely upon our feelings, or upon the decision of our will. It has an objective basis, in the sacrament of our baptismal washing.

Flying kites

After Orthodox Christians have knelt before each other at the Vespers of Forgiveness, asking and granting pardon, what do they do on the next day, the first day of Lent, known as ‘Clean Monday’ (Kathara Devtera)? In many places it is still the custom to go out on the hills and have a picnic; and on this, the first open-air festival of the year, both children and grown-ups fly kites in the spring breeze. Such can also be our inner experience when we begin to forgive one another. To forgive is to enter spiritual springtime. It is to emerge from gloom into the sunlight, from self-imprisonment into the liberty of the open air. It is to ascend the hills, to let the wind blow on our faces, and to fly noetic kites, the kites of imagination, hope and joy.

As his son said of the priest Papastavros, ‘He is free because he forgives.’


1 Kevin Andrews, The Flight of Ikaros: A Journey into Greece (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1959), pp. 109-19.
2 I take this sentence from a pamphlet entitled The F Word: Images of Forgiveness (no place, no date).
3 Archimandrite Sophrony (Sakharov), Saint Silouan the Athonite (Tolleshunt Knights, Essex: The Monastery of St John the Baptist, 1991), p. 341.
4 Archbishop Anthony Bloom, Living Prayer (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1966), p. 31. See also his perceptive words about forgiveness in Meditations on a Theme (London/Oxford: Mowbrays, 1972), pp. 104-8.
5 On prayer 136; tr. Robert E. Sinkewicz, Evagrius of Pontus : the Greek Ascetic Corpus (Oxford: OUP, 2003), p. 207 (translation modified).
6 For the liturgical texts used on the Sunday of Forgiveness, see The Lenten Triodion, tr. Mother Mary and Archimandrite Kallistos Ware (London/Boston: Faber & Faber, 1978), pp. 168-83, especially p. 183. Most of the hymnology for the day in fact alludes, not to mutual forgiveness, but to the other main theme of the Sunday, the Casting out of Adam from Paradise.
7 The details of the ceremony vary in different places. A simpler form of mutual pardon is used daily at the end of Compline: see Service Book of the Holy Orthodox-Catholic Apostolic Church, tr. Isabel Florence Hapgood, 2nd. edtn (New York: Association Press, 1922), p. 162; The Liturgikon: The Book of Divine Services for the Priest and the Deacon, ed. The Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America, 2nd edtn. (Englewood, NJ: Antakya Press, 1994), pp. 67, 98.
8 Not that there is anything wrong with the emotions as such, for they are an integral part of our human personhood according to the divine image, and so they can and should be offered up to God in our ‘reasonable worship’ (Rom. 12:1). I am thinking here, however, of a febrile emotionalism that is artificial and exaggerated.
9 The Ladder of Divine Ascent, Step 7, title (PG 88: 801C), tr. Archimandrite Lazarus Moore (London: Faber & Faber, 1959), p. 113.
10 The Greek text, as used liturgically, in the Orthodox Church, contains 58 words; in critical editions of the New Testament there is one word less, as the definite article is omitted before gēs (‘earth’).
11 On prayer 8:1, 9:1, ed. P. Koetschan, GCS (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1899), p. 317; tr. Rowan A. Greer, The Classics of Western Christianity (New York/Ramsey/Toronto: Panlist Press, 1979), pp. 97,98. On the Patristic use of the Lord’s Prayer, see the systematic study, with detailed bibliography, by Kenneth W. Stevenson, The Lord’s Prayer : A Text in Tradition (London: SCM, 2004), to which I am much indebted.
12 On the Lord’s Prayer, homily 5, ed. J.F. Callahan, Gregorii Nysseni Opera VII/2 (Leiden/New York/Köln, 1992) p. 59, line 1; tr. Hilda C. Graef, Ancient Christian Writers 18 (New York: Newman Press, 1954), p. 71.
13 On the Lord’s Prayer, homily 5, ed. Callahan, p. 61 : 10-11; tr. Graef, p.73. Here (and elsewhere) I have modified Dr Graef’s translation.
14 Quoted in the pamphlet The F Word : Images of Forgiveness.
15 The Times (London), 17 July 2004, p. 47.
16 Quoted by Charles Williams, The Forgiveness of Sins (London : Geoffrey Bles, 1942), p. 16. This brief study, written in the middle of the Second World War, remains one of the most helpful treatments on the subject.
17 Devotions upon Emergent Occasions (London: Thomas Jones, 1624), Meditation XVII.
18 On the Lord’s Prayer 8, ed. C. Moreschini, Corpus Christianorum III/A, Pars II (Turnhout: Brepols, 1976), lines 103-18; cited in Stevenson, The Lord’s Prayer, p. 33.
19 On the Lord’s Prayer 23, ed. Moreschini, lines 447-9.
20 Stromateis 7:81:2, ed. O. Stählin and L. Früchtel, GCS (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1970), p.58; tr. F.J.A. Hort and J.B. Mayor, Clement of Alexandria : Miscellanies Book VII (London: Macmillan, 1902), p. 141.
21 On the Lord’s Prayer, ed. Peter van Deun, Corpus Christianorum 23 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1991), lines 662-8; tr. G.E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard and Kallistos Ware, The Philokalia, vol. 2 (London/Boston: Faber & Faber, 1981), p. 301 (translation adapted).
22 On the Lord’s Prayer, homily 5, ed. Callahan, p. 61 : 5-6; cf. p. 69:24; tr. Graef, pp. 73, 80.
23 The Greek Fathers, and also most present-day Orthodox writers, speak not of ‘original sin’ but of ‘ancestral sin’ (propatorikē hamartia). There is a subtle difference in meaning between the two terms.
24 On the Lord’s Prayer, homily 5, ed. Callahan, pp. 64:23; 65:2; 66:7-15; tr. Graef, pp. 76,77.
25 On repentance 12 and 11, ed. G.-M. de Durand, Sources chrétiennes 445 (Paris: Cerf, 1999), pp. 252, 250.
26 On baptism 17, ed. de Durand, op. cit., p. 392.
27 Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, tr. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (New York: Vintage Classics, 1991), p. 320.
28 Service Orthodoxe de Presse et d’Information (SOP) 290 (July-August 2004), pp. 1-3.
29 The Forgiveness of Sins, p. 66.
30 On the Lord’s Prayer 23, ed. Moreschini, lines 440-1.
31 On Matthew, homily 19:6 (PG 57: 281).
32 On the Lord’s Prayer, homily 5, ed. Callahan, pp. 59:1-11; 60 : 15-16; 61 : 15-17; tr. Graef, pp. 71, 72, 73.
33 op. cit., ed. Callahan, pp. 61 : 13-14; tr. Graef, p. 73.
34 op. cit., ed. Callahan, p. 61 : 23-24; 62 : 7-9; tr. Graef, pp. 73, 74.
35 Stromateis 7 : 86 : 6, ed. Stählin and Früchtel, p. 62; tr. Hort and Mayor, p. 153.
36 Stevenson, The Lord’s Prayer, p. 165.
37 On the Lord’s Prayer, homily 5, ed. Callahan, p. 62 : 9-11; tr. Graef, p. 74.
38 op. cit., ed. Callahan, pp. 69 : 26; 70 : 12; tr. Graef, pp. 80-81. The parable is quoted to the same effect by other early Christian writers, such as Tertullian (ca. 160- ca. 225), On the Prayer 7, ed. and tr. E. Evans (London: SPCK, 1953), pp. 12-13; Origen, On prayer 28 : 7, ed. Koetschau, p. 379; tr. Greer, p. 150.
39 Isaac of Nineveh (Isaac the Syrian), ‘The Second Part’, Chapters IV – XLI, tr. Sebastian Brock, Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium 555, Scriptores Syri 225 (Louvain : Peeters, 1995), Homily 40 : 1, p. 174.
40 Archimandrite Sophrony, Saint Silouan the Athonite, pp. 47, 371.
41 Archbishop Anthony Bloom, Living Prayer, p. 30.
42 Marc-Antoine Costa de Beauregard, Dumitru Staniloae : Ose comprendre que Je t’aime (Paris: Cerf, 1983), p. 24: ‘Mois-même, tout que je ne suis pas aimé, je suis incomprehensible.’
43 Suetonius, Lives of the Caesars, ‘Divus Augustus’, §25 (‘Make haste slowly’).
44 The Forgiveness of Sins, p. 113.
45 The Forgiveness of Sins, pp. 77-78.
46 Archimandrite Sofrony, Saint Silouan the Athonite, p. 377.
47 Augustine, Sermon 59 : 7; cf. 56 : 11; 57 : 8 (PL 38: 382, 390, 401). See Stevenson, The Lord’s Prayer, p. 82. A similar interpretation is given by Caesarius of Arles (ca. 470-542), and by Euthymius Zigabenus (twelfth century): see Stevenson, op. cit., pp. 90, 108.

* * *

Recommended Reading: Fall 2008

Dimitri’s Cross:

The Life of St. Dimitri Klepinin

by Hèléne Arjkovsky-Klepinine

Conciliar Press, 189 pages, $17

In February of 1943, Father Dimitri Klepinin, a 39-year-old Orthodox priest, was arrested by the German occupiers of Paris for issuing false baptismal certificates to Jews, an action he had performed time and again without hesitation, though well aware of the dangers involved. A year later he died at Dora, a German concentration camp known as “the Man-Eater.” His final action, done with the help of another prisoner as he was too weak to do himself, was to make the sign of the cross.

Before his arrest Fr. Dimitri worked side-by-side with Mother Maria Skobtsova at the house of hospitality she had founded in 1933. After the German occupation began, the community turned much of its attention to Jews and all others who were in danger.

While undergoing interrogation at the Gestapo headquarters in Paris, Fr. Dimitri was asked, “How dare you talk of helping those swine [the Jews] as being a Christian duty!” Fr. Dimitri responded by holding up the cross hanging over his cassock. “Do you know this Jew?” The Gestapo officer instantly struck Fr. Dimitri on the face. “Your priest did himself in,” he said afterward. “He insists that if he were to be freed, he would act exactly as before.”

Fr. Dimitri along with Mother Maria, Yuri Skobtsov and Ilya Fundaminsky were glorified by the Orthodox Church in 2004. Their icons are now found in many churches, but only now has a detailed account of Fr. Dimitri’s life become available to the English-speaking world.

Some of the most memorable stories concerns small moments of family life for example how Fr. Dimitri was so distressed when his daughter banged her head on a corner of the kitchen table that he nearly sawed off all four corners of the table in order to prevent future injuries. Only his wife’s intervention saved the table from ruin.

Hèléne Arjkovsky-Klepinine last saw her father when she was a child of six. In preparing this account of his life, from childhood in pre-revolutionary Russia (he was born in 1904) to his martyrdom 40 years later, she has sought out many who knew him well and even found a few witnesses who were with him at the Dora concentration camp. It is a story of remarkable constancy in caring for others, from his wife and children to each stranger at the door. Fr. Dimitri is among those saints who can be described as “a man for all seasons.”

The final section of the book consists of Fr. Dimitri s letters to his wife from his initial confinement until no more letters were allowed. In them, the reader meets a priest whose reliance on Christ was absolute and love for his neighbor excluded no one. His humility was profound and his courage never wavered. JF

The Life of Saint Martin

text by Verena Smith

color illustrations by Emile Probst

Seattle: St. Nectarios Press, 24 pages

There are quite different ways of looking at history. The dominant one is to regard it in terms of wars and warriors and the clash of civilizations. Another is to focus on the lives of the saints, who, by living Christ-revealing lives, help us to better understand what it means to follow Christ. The one route centers on power and bloodshed, the other on conversion. For those of us trying to follow Christ, one of the ways the Church helps us is by remembering the great saints and retelling their stories.

Would that there were more children’s few books about saints, but here is one of them a life about a saint of the fourth century, Martin of Tours.

So important was Martin’s role in the conversion of Europe to Christianity that to this day, in several European countries, the eve of his feast day, November 12, is still the occasion of festivities, especially processions of children carrying lanterns as they go from door-to-door singing St. Martin songs in exchange for gifts of fruit or candy. The idea behind the tradition is that St. Martin should make all of us more generous.

In some towns and cities, a man dressed in a Roman officer’s uniform and riding a white horse leads a parade of lantern-bearing children and their parents. The man of horseback represents, of course, St. Martin, dressed as he was in the period before his baptism. The great event in his early life was to notice a freezing beggar at a city gateway and to cut his officer’s cape in two, giving half it to the man in need. It’s a scene represented in countless carvings, paintings and stained glass windows, especially in churches and monasteries bearing Martin’s name. That same night, Martin had a vision in which he realized that the man he helped was none other than Christ.

The other important story from Martin’s younger life occurred soon afterward, when he refused to take part in a great battle that was due to begin the next day. “I am a soldier of Christ,” he told Caesar. “To fight is not permissible for me.” Accused of cowardice, Martin offered to stand before the opposing army unarmed, but instead was put in chains for his disobedience. When the opposing army instead chose not to enter into battle, Caesar saw this as a heavenly sign, freeing Martin and granting him a discharge.

Martin was still a catechumen at the time, but soon afterward was baptized, became a monk, and eventually was conscripted by local believers to become the bishop of Tours in France. It was a fate Martin tried to avoid, regarding himself as unworthy. He went into hiding, but the noisy geese with which he took shelter gave him away. (Poor geese! In Austria, Germany and France, many of goose are roasted on St. Martin’s feast day.)

While this brief account of St. Martin’s life leaves out some of my favorite details of his life (the reason Martin left the army is not made clear), nonetheless the book will open a door for any family in which it is read. The illustrations are excellent and the story told in an engaging way. JF

The Hermit, the Icon, and the Emperor: The Holy Virgin Comes to Cyprus

by Chrissi Hart, illustrated by Niko Chocheli

Conciliar Press, $17

Chrissi Hart tells the story of how an icon of the Mother of God, painted by the Evangelist Luke, journeyed from a palace in Constantinople to a remote hilltop in Cyprus, where it remains to this day as part of the iconostasis of the monastery church of Kykkos. It’s a tale that begins with the song of a cuckoo and involves a resolute hermit, a governor stricken with paralysis, a princess close to death, and an emperor whose greatest treasure is the icon painted by St. Luke. Niko Chocheli’s vibrant illustrations bring the story to life and will give many young readers their first glimpse of Byzantium. The story also introduces the realization that some dreams are God-given.

It’s a book that will engage both children and their parents and no doubt will inspire more than a few readers to make their way as pilgrims to the Kykkos monastery on Cyprus. -JF

The Uncreated Light

by Solrunn Nes

Eerdmans, 187 pages, $25

The Uncreated Light is centered on the Gospel accounts of the Transfiguration, as rendered in four representative portrayals spanning the 6th through the 15th centuries, and supplemented by four other works.

The book is also a statement about the human person in his relation to God. One can find the key to Nes’s thesis in this: “Theosis [deification] does not imply that the difference between the divine and the human is erased. On the contrary, greater likeness with God will make man more human since the deified man has developed his God-given potential. … Iron which is heated by fire is still iron, but is different from cold iron in that it can be formed.” The point is that the human person is not made to vanish in his encounter with God. Nothing of the truly human, including personal identity, is left behind, but is taken up and made more fully itself in communion with the deifying Christ human iron infused with divine fire.

While Nes does what most art historians do, her book is theological in a way that art history books rarely are. She interprets her examples through two theological controversies: 8th-century iconoclasm and the 14th-century hesychasm. Without a grasp of the relevant theology, one misses so much that is vital to the iconography itself.

The three-part structure of the book ascent, vision, and descent assumes the shape of the Transfiguration accounts and, by extension, the eastern-patristic path of the mystical journey. Nes shows how the various depictions themselves elucidate the Incarnation, the glory of the Cross, eschatology, and human deification.

The highest compliment I can pay Solrunn Nes’s book is that it induces one to pray and to conceive a desire for the True Beauty objectively reflected there.

Fr. Addison Hart

Violence and Christian Spirituality: An Ecumenical Conversation

by Fr. Emmanuel Clapsis

Foreword by Patriarch Bartholomew I

ISBN: 9782825415054

WCC Publications, 329 pages, 35 francs

For those who wished they might have attended the conference on violence and spirituality held in 2005 at the Hellenic College and Holy Cross Orthodox School of Theology, it’s not too late to at least listen in. Fr. Emmanuel Clapsis, Professor of Dogmatic Theology at Holy Cross, has gathered together all the papers that were presented and also included transcripts of a panel discussion on domestic violence. The topics include Christian witness in overcoming violence, religious freedom, forgiveness and reconciliation, the saints as models of Christ’s peace, and nonviolence in the Orthodox tradition.

Fall 2008 issue of In Communion / IC 51

Conversations by email: Fall 2008

These are extracts from recent postings to the OPF’s e-mail discussion list. If you are an OPF member and wish to take part, contact Mark Pearson or Jim Forest.

The Georgia-Russia War: “We have the especially difficult issue of having a Georgian woman in our parish during bombing of her country,” Daniel Lieuwen wrote. “It was very sad to see her crying.”

The scene in our church in Amsterdam was similar, just on a bigger scale as ours is a large parish with a lots of Russians and also a good number of Georgians, one of whom is our parish warden. Many were praying with tears. During the Great Entrance, our rector, Fr. Sergei Ovsiannikov, prayed for peace in Georgia and Ossetia and for all who have died during these terrible days. He chose to pray in English, which is very unusual since he is a Russian native speaker and our services are either in Slavonic or Dutch. After the Liturgy he held a Panakhida for the dead.

Interestingly, there was a TV crew there filming the service. They probably wanted to see how a “Russian” parish (though there are over twenty nationalities in our parish) was reacting to the events.

Nancy Forest

Concepts of God: God  the word gets used in many ways. Sometimes we use it to mean the Trinity, other times the Father, sometimes divinity, or the divine nature. So unless we have an exact definition of the word each time it is used, we may actually not be using it in the same way.

Orthodoxy does distinguish between person and nature in God: One nature, three persons  that is how we say we are monotheists. Jesus is one person, two natures, God and man, and in this case we really are using God to mean divinity, otherwise we refer to God the son to mean the second Divine Person of the Trinity.

Being strict monotheists, Muslims and Jews make no distinction between person and nature when they refer to God. God is one as per the Shema and the Shahada. So they both do and don’t mean what we mean when we say God. But if one says Creator, then all three might agree that they are talking about the same God, even though Christians might be vaguely referring to the Trinity or the Father.

The Quran is clear that God beget no one and no other is to be referred to as God. Mohammed was taking a shot against Christianity in these verses of the Quran.

When speaking about divinity, probably Christians, Jews and Muslims are talking about the same general concept. Though Muslims pay lip service to the scriptures of Jews and Christians, and though the Quran clearly is based upon our scriptures (in this sense it is a true heresy as it picks and chooses ideas from the scriptures and reinterprets them), the notions of God do differ between the three faiths.

Arab Christians use the word Allah for God, indicating there is a similar concept of God both in Islam and Christianity. Both Christians and Muslims pray to God, believe He is Lord, merciful, and judge and to be loved and obeyed.

Some have made the distinction of “the fullness,” as in the fullness of the truth. And so some have seen the references to God in other religions as being true as far as they go, but still incomplete or lacking the fullness of the truth. This thinking is always looking for the good in other religions  a good which can be built upon for revealing the fullness of the truth.

I live in Dayton, Ohio. When the Dayton Peace Accord was being worked on, it was agreed that a prayer service for peace should be held at the Air Force base where the negotiations were going on, and that this service would involve Orthodox, Catholics, Protestants, Muslims and Jews. As I spoke with the rabbi and imam, I never had any doubt that, however we conceived of God, we all were calling upon the one God to bring peace to Bosnia and Herzegovina, and truly it seemed to me that each respected my belief and expected me to pray in a Trinitarian formula. And the prayers for peace had a sameness about them, as we all believed it is God who gives peace to the world.

Admittedly my experience was limited. I wasn’t confronted by a Muslim extremist, but rather met a Muslim imam who seemed as genuinely desirous of peace as I was.

Fr. Ted Bobosh

The economic crisis: It has been curious to me to see all of the panic over the capital markets, the feeling that economic catastrophe is on the way. This is not to say that I don’t value having food and water, heat and shelter for myself and my family, but it is curious that all along (while things have been really good) we have always had people living right alongside us in our cities who must live precisely in the way we are so afraid may be coming to us. Look at Iraq, where the people have lived for years without water, proper sewage, consistent electricity, living with perpetual violence. As well in Africa, Asia, Central America.

Joe May

The Dutch model: In Holland, though abortion is legal, the abortion rate is extremely low (while in Orthodox Greece and Russia it’s very high). There are several reasons for it being low here:

There is a good sex education curriculum in the schools. One consequence of this is that there is a much lower rate of unintended pregnancies than in the US.

There is strong and effective social support (economic, medical, housing) for women who, without such support, might well see no alterative but abortion.

Last but not least, the pro-life movement here really is pro-life, not simply anti-abortion. It doesn’t aim at shocking anyone nor does it engage in scolding, but rather puts its stress on caring support and encouragement of women who may be considering abortion. The name group has the initials VBOK (it means the Society for the Protection of Unborn Children). VBOK posters are regularly displayed at train stations, bus and tram stops throughout the country. The photos used on the posters are of young women who clearly are struggling with a hard choice. The images always strike a note of compassion. The text is always the same. The headline on top is “An unwished for pregnancy… What now?” The text at the bottom is: “There is help for both the mother and child.” And then a free phone number one can call any hour of the day or night. I have no doubt these posters have saved many lives of unborn children and also saved many mothers from a lifetime of profound regret and depression.

Perhaps there is something that Americans can be learn from the Dutch model.

Jim Forest

Suicide: Suicide is a very personal issue for me. Two members of my family committed suicide. For many the motive is unbearable pain. Someone I know well, not a person of faith, is in early Alzheimers. She has become increasingly frail and is dealing with a lot of pain, some physical, most of it psychological and spiritual. She can’t do any of the things that used to make her happy. She told me again today, “I want to die.” But she said she would never kill herself because it would hurt the family so much. (Thank God for her common sense!) I think she doesn’t want so much to die as to be relieved of her pain. And since she can’t imagine what is left of her life here in this world as even moderately free of pain, death seems like the only option.

But the fact is, that when death really draws near, really near, the vast majority of us fight against it “for dear life.” I think it really makes no difference whether you think you’ve been a happy person or not. Faith helps of course, but the fact is we are all the same before the great unknown that is death. We are all equal before it, stripped of everything that we had, or thought we had. The help of faith is simply to surrender to that great abyss trusting we will be caught and embraced by God.

Paul del Junco

Staying alive: Speaking for myself, I have had neither much fear of death, nor a desire to short-circuit the process, but have had enough passing acquaintance with pain to know that it is quite conceivable that I would want to exit this life under the “right” conditions. Whether I would act on it is another question.

The major source of pain for me is the contemplation of the loss and grief that my loved ones would experience. Thus I go to the doctor regularly, do what he tells me to do, don’t smoke, drive recklessly or sky-dive (though it sounds like fun), all in an effort to spare my family as long as I can.

The problem of letting go is often a much harder thing for the survivors, than for the one who is terminally ill. I don’t mean to say that there are not plenty of folks who approach death “terrified”  only that it is often a mixture of a number of different concerns, regrets, fears, etc.

Alex Patico

The lethal side of law: It may be true that there is often good law and there is often bad conscience, but it is always true that on Earth law kills. It is because good law is needed to restrain errant humans that law is defended when it murders; once the rule is in force, though, it makes no distinction between bad men and good men. It sees only those who submit to it and those who don’t. Reasons don’t matter. The necessity doesn’t make it a good deal. We are bent and law does restrain, but it is a flawed interim solution: to defend it as a high good is dangerous and makes one ready to kill. Once a person is in charge of enforcing the law, even his or her conscience is no longer of consequence. What a pity. Pilate was a man of conscience who had no choice but to murder the Christ out of responsibility to enforce the law. While it may be that it was the leaders of the Jewish community who railroaded Jesus, still it was Rome’s laws and Rome’s man who did the deed. And let’s be clear he did it in defense of Rome.

Pieter Dykhorst

Scale matters: I wouldn’t want to be in prison under any system. Being president of the Jail Chaplaincy of Somerset County in New Jersey gives me enough information about how rotten it is to be in jail, where officers are often men who feel a deep need for power.

However, given a chance between several years of in Siberia with my books as an agitator under the tsar and being shot for no particular reason to fill a quota under Stalin, I’d certainly chose the former. Scale matters. There is a difference between shoplifting a pack of gum and murdering everyone in the store.

I distrust any state but I fear utopian dreamers most of all. At least under law, there are procedural norms, fought out over centuries that provide some protection.

To clarify, it was not the Jewish community that railroaded Christ, it was a tiny cabal of Jewish leaders who acted in a way contrary to the masses of the Jewish people. And in the Gospel telling, it is not Roman law that kills Christ, but Pilate’s moral cowardice he knew Tiberius to be paranoid and that the accusation that Pilate was not sufficiently concerned about treason would be dangerous. We do have a tradition that he was later punished by Tiberius with exile for this judicial murder, though I believe Josephus attributes it to other crimes Pilate committed.

Daniel Lieuwen

You are caught where many of us are caught.You fear law but defend it because you fear utopian lunatics more. I aspire to fearing neither and defending neither. The good news is you don’t have to have your druthers between the tsars of the world or the Bolsheviks the world is run such that if you really want to be a Christian, it will find a way to trap you and kill you. We don’t get to choose the system that kills us.

To my great consternation, I discover that living in this society these days, being a Christian makes me unpatriotic, a coward, a traitor, “a damned liberal,”,and a long list of other things. It’s not yet a death sentence but rather a kind of verbal burial.

The trick, I’m finding, is not the rules of the game but the game itself. The challenge for me these days is not to navigate the game, but to stay out of it. There is no Christian politics, period.

Regarding Pilate, we don’t know the end of that story. I like to think he was at last redeemed. I’m sure Christ would receive Pilate. I like the end of “A Man for All Seasons” where Thomas More tells the executioner, “Do not be afraid of your office. You send me to God.” What a beautiful story to illustrate what I see as the core dilemma here. A good man run afoul of the king refuses to abandon his stand and accepts his punishment without condemning the executioner! Perhaps also the executioner was a good man trapped by inflexible options.

Pieter Dykhorst

Soldiers of Conscience:

above: Sgt. Kevin Benderman, after conviction by court marshal for refusing to return to Iraq, on his way to prison. He is one of the conscientious objectors featured in “Soldiers of Conscience.

Soldiers of Conscience: Last night Nancy and I watched “Soldiers of Conscience,” a 90-minute documentary, now on DVD, that was shown on public television in the US in October. It’s an impressive film not only about several soldiers stationed in Iraq who became conscientious objectors, but also opens a window on war itself.

The most startling element in the film is the footage of soldiers being trained to overcome any instinctive hesitation to kill a program that the Army developed after discovering how many soldiers in combat situations wouldn’t in fact shoot at other human beings. The goal of the “reflexive fire training” program is to make shooting to kill an automatic response.

Two of the four soldiers interviewed were jailed. One of them comments that it was only in military prison that he experienced true freedom, the freedom that came from being obedient to conscience.

I happen to know one of those interviewed, Joshua Casteel. He was as interrogator at Abu Ghraib Prison in Baghdad. Since his discharge Joshua has written a play (“The Interrogation Room”) and a book, Letters from Abu Ghraib.

The film’s web site (which includes a “purchase the DVD” page):

I would recommend getting the DVD and watching it with friends.

Jim Forest

Fall 2008 issue of In Communion / IC 51

News: Fall 2008

War tests ties between Georgian and Russian Churches

While the leaders of Russia and Georgia exchange recriminations, Christians in the two nations worried about the damage the recent conflict had inflicted on the cherished unity of the Orthodox Church. Both churches have close ties with their national governments, but the prospect of two Orthodox nations at war with each other failed to deter either Russia or Georgia from armed conflict in August.

The two churches expressed dismay. The patriarchs of both the Russian and Georgian Orthodox Churches issued immediate appeals for peace. The strong urgings were all the more striking for the Russian patriarch, Alexei, who rarely differs publicly with the Kremlin.

“Today, blood is being shed and people are perishing in South Ossetia, and my heart deeply grieves over it,” Patriarch Alexei said in a statement on August 8 as the fighting raged. “Orthodox Christians are among those who have raised their hands against each other. Orthodox peoples called by the Lord to live in fraternity and love are in conflict.”

Two days later, in a sermon in Tbilisi, Patriarch Ilya of the Georgian Orthodox Church said that “one thing concerns us very deeply – that Orthodox Russians are bombing Orthodox Georgians.” On the church’s web site, Ilya added: “This is an unprecedented act of relations between our countries. Reinforce your prayer and God will save Georgia.”

The ties between two churches proved strong enough to offer some relief to civilians caught in the conflict. Bringing food and aid, Patriarch Ilya made a pastoral visit to Gori, a central Georgian city, while it was occupied by Russian forces.

According to Metropolitan Kirill of Smolensk, head of the Moscow Patriarchate’s Department of External Church Relations, the Russian church facilitated the visit. He said the Moscow patriarchate also conveyed letters of appeal from Patriarch Ilya of Georgia to President Dmitri Medvedev and Prime Minister Vladimir Putin. Both have made much of their Orthodox faith.

Fr. Vsevolod Chaplin, of the Moscow Patriarchate, told Soyuz, a Russian TV channel, “Only a madman today can declare all Georgians the enemy, and inflame anti-Georgian sentiment in the country.”

At a vigil service on the eve of the Feast of the Transfiguration, August 19, Archbishop Feofan of Stavropol and Vladikavkaz, Russian regions near the war zone, counseled believers to control themselves. “As difficult as it may be for us, under no circumstances must we give way to our emotions,” he said. “We must not address our anger against Georgians, who often live among us. For this is the power of our Christianity: not to be like those who raised arms against peaceful citizens.”

The Russian conflict with Georgia is the first fighting between nations peopled by a majority of Orthodox Christians and not under Communist rule since the Second Balkan War in 1913 pitted Serbia, Greece, Montenegro and Romania against Bulgaria in a prelude to World War I.

Georgia has a population of fewer than five million, but it is one of the most ancient Christian countries. Its church dates from the fourth century, much older than the Russian church, whose roots go back only to the Baptism of Rus in 988.

Whatever the tugs of unity, the two churches have tended to side with their national governments.

Patriarch Ilya appealed unsuccessfully to Medvedev and Putin not to recognize South Ossetia and Abkhazia as independent states. “This will give rise to separatism in your country, and in the future you will have many more problems than we have in Georgia today,” he said. “This is worth meditating upon.”

The Russian church was tepid about Russian recognition of Abkhazia and South Ossetia.

“The Moscow Patriarchate must take political realities into account,” said Fr. Nikolai Balashov, the church’s secretary for inter-Orthodox relations. But in resolving canonical jurisdiction over the two disputed territories, he said that Adialogue with the Georgian church” was more important.

Nikolai Mitrokhin, a specialist on the Orthodox Church in the former Soviet Union, noted that the Russian church had little to gain in the current conflict.

“It is the first time in a couple of decades that the foreign policy interests of the Russian Orthodox Church diverged with those of the state.” [Sophia Kishkovsky / New York Times]

Note: A letter from the Orthodox Peace Fellowship sent August 13 to Russian and Georgian Patriarchs is posted on the OPF web site:

Prayers for peace in the Caucasus

With the Blessing of Patriarch Alexei, prayers for the deliverance of the peoples of the Caucasus from Aenmity, disorder and civil strife” were added to divine services in churches of Moscow Patriarchate:

“That Thou mayest bless the nations of the Caucasus with Thy goodness and quell among them enmity, disorders and civil strife; and grant them a peaceful life and length of days, we beseech Thee, O Lord: Hearken, and have mercy!

“That Thou mayest deliver the peoples of the Caucasus from all tribulation, perils, wrath and need, and from all enemies, and mayest surround them with peace and the armies of Thine angels, we beseech Thee, O all-good Lord: Hearken, and have mercy!”

Russia ponders revolutionary past

Russia marked the 90th anniversary of the murder by the Bolsheviks of Tsar Nicholas II, his wife Alexandra and their five children that occurred July 22, 1918, with conferences, concerts, exhibitions, processions and debates about repentance, rehabilitation, and remembrance.

“The evil deed committed in July 1918 marked the beginning of those tragic events that our nation endured in the 20th century,” said Patriarch Alexei.

The canonization in 2000 of the royal family, the Romanovs as Apassion-bearers” for their faith and humility in the face of execution has made Ekaterinburg, the city in Russia’s Urals region where they were slaughtered, a magnet for religious pilgrims. They come to the Church-on-the-Blood, built on the site of Ipatiev House, where the Romanovs were imprisoned. The basement room where they were gunned down has been turned into a crypt surrounded by icons of the family. The pilgrims also visit a modest monastery of log churches built at Ganina Yama just outside the city, in the birch forest from which the remains of the royal family were exhumed.

Services of commemoration on July 16-17 drew more than 30,000 pilgrims. Some had been walking since April in a religious procession from St. Petersburg that retraced the train route of the Romanovs as they were transported across the country to their death.

The Orthodox church has called on the Russian State to officially repent of the murders. “A state that has not condemned the crime committed against the imperial family burdens itself, and to some extent the nation with the consequences of these crimes,” said Fr. Vsevolod Chaplin, deputy chairperson of the Moscow Patriarchate’s External Relations Department.

“Russia can’t face the future with a free conscience,” he said, Aif we think what the Bolsheviks did is normal. Until the state says the murder of the tsar family was a crime and gives a moral evaluation of the actions of those who gave, approved and executed the command to shoot them, who took the family into custody and kept them under arrest, and until this is done on the level of symbolically important state decisions and of clarifying this question in the public mind, Russia will have difficulty facing the future.” [Sophia Kishkovsky/ENI]

[Note: In a decision announced October 1, the appeals presidium of the Russian Supreme Court ruled that Nicholas II, his wife Alexandra and their children were victims of “groundless repression” and ordered their rehabilitation.]

Bartholomew and Alexei meet in Kiev

Patriarch Bartholomew of Constantinople and Patriarch Alexei of Moscow jointly conducted an open-air divine service in Kiev July 27, marking 1020 years since Christianity was adopted in Kievan Rus’.

Metropolitan Vladimir of Kiev, Archbishop Hieronymus of Greece, Archbishop Anastasios of Albania, and representatives of other local Orthodox Churches concelebrated with the two patriarchs. The service was broadcast by all Ukrainian channels.

Afterward Bartholomew and Alexei had a meeting during which the church situation in the Ukraine was discussed. At a press conference following the meeting, Patriarch Bartholomew said, “Dialogue is even more useful when there are problems between the two fraternal Orthodox Churches.” The two parties agreed to work on improving relations and recognized bilateral responsibility for “Orthodox unity and common Orthodox testimony to the world,” Bartholomew said. He expressed hope that Patriarch Alexei will be able to attend a meeting of the primates of all Orthodox Churches scheduled for this October in Istanbul.

“We agreed to resolve all controversies between our churches through discussion and dialog,” said Alexei, adding that an agreement to discuss controversies by delegations of the two churches so that to work out decisions “that would meet our interests” was reached.

A Message from Orthodox Primates

In October, all the primates of the Orthodox Churches met together to inaugurate the Year of Saint Paul. Following a two-day meeting hosted by Patriarch Bartholomew at the Phanar in Istanbul, a joint statement was issued. Here are extracts:

  • The evangelization of God’s people, but also of those who do not believe in Christ, constitutes the supreme duty of the Church. This duty must not be fulfilled in an aggressive manner, or by various forms of proselytism, but with love, humility and respect for the identity of each individual and the cultural particularity of each people…
  • Conflicts are increasing due to alienation of man from God. No change in social structures or of rules of behavior suffices to heal this condition. Sin can only be conquered through the cooperation of God and humankind.
  • The witness of Orthodoxy for the ever-increasing problems of humanity and of the world becomes imperative, not only in order to point out their causes, but also in order to confront the tragic consequences that follow. The various nationalistic, ethnic, ideological and religious contrasts continuously nurture dangerous confusion, not only in regard to the unquestionable ontological unity of the human race, but also in regard to man’s relationship to sacred creation. … These divisions … introduce an unjust inequality … [and] deprive billions of people of basic goods and lead to the misery for the human person; they cause mass population migration, kindle nationalistic, religious and social discrimination and conflict, threatening traditional internal societal coherence. These consequences are still more abhorrent because they are inextricably linked with the destruction of the natural environment and the ecosystem.
  • Orthodox Christians share responsibility for the contemporary crisis of this planet with others, whether people of faith or not, because they have tolerated and indiscriminately compromised on extreme human choices, without credibly challenging these choices with the word of faith. Therefore, they also have a major obligation to contribute to overcoming the divisions of the world.
  • Efforts to distance religion from societal life constitute [is a tendency in] many modern states. The principle of a secular state can be preserved; however, it is unacceptable to interpret this principle as a radical marginalization of religion from all spheres of public life.
  • The gap between rich and poor is growing dramatically due to the financial crisis, chiefly the result of manic profiteering …. A viable economy is that which combines efficacy with justice and social solidarity.
  • The Orthodox Church believes that technological and economic progress should not lead to the destruction of the environment and the exhaustion of natural resources. Greed to satisfy material desires leads to the impoverishment of the human soul and the environment. We must not forget that the natural riches of the earth are not only man’s property, but primarily God’s creation. … We must remember that not only today’s generation, but also future generations are entitled to have a right to the resources of nature.
  • We salute the Churches of Russia and Georgia for their fraternal cooperation during the recent military conflict. In this way, the two Churches fulfilled the obligation to the ministry of reconciliation. We hope that their mutual ecclesiastical efforts will contribute to overcoming the tragic consequences of military operations and swift reconciliation.
  • We reaffirm … our desire for the swift healing of every canonical anomaly that has arisen from historical circumstances and pastoral requirements, such as in the “Orthodox Diaspora,” with a view to overcoming every possible influence that is foreign to Orthodox ecclesiology. We welcome the proposal by the Ecumenical Patriarchate to convene Pan-Orthodox Consultations within the coming year 2009 on this subject, as well as for the continuation of preparations for the Holy and Great Council.
  • We reaffirm … our desire to continue … theological dialogues with other Christians, as well as interreligious dialogues, especially with Judaism and Islam, given that dialogue constitutes the only way of solving differences among people, especially in a time like today, when every kind of division, including those in the name of religion, threaten people’s peace and unity.
  • We reaffirm … our support for the initiatives … for the protection of the environment. Today’s ecological crisis, which is due to both spiritual and ethical reasons, renders imperative the obligation of the Church to contribute, through the spiritual means at her disposal, to the protection of God’s creation from the consequences of greed. We reaffirm the designation of the 1st of September, the first day of the Ecclesiastical Year, as a day of special prayers for the protection of God’s creation, and we support the introduction of the subject in the catechetical, homiletic, and general pastoral activity of our Churches…

In the Phanar, 12th October 2008:

+Bartholomew of Constantinople +Theodore of Alexandria +Ignatius of Antioch +Theophilos of Jerusalem +Alexey of Moscow +Amphilochios of Montenegro (representing the Church of Serbia) +Laurentiu of Transylvania (representing the Church of Romania) +Dometiyan of Vidin (representing the Church of Bulgaria) +Gerasime of Zugdidi (representing the Church of Georgia) + Chrysostomos of Cyprus + Ieronymos of Athens + Jeremiasz of Wrołcaw (representing of the Church of Poland) +Anastasios of Tirana +Christopher of the Czech Lands and Slovakia

Russian Church protests monument to KGB founder

The Russian Orthodox Church said in August that it was Aappalled” by a proposal to place a statue of Felix Dzerzhinsky, founder of the Cheka, forerunner to the KGB, in front of the secret service headquarters in central Moscow. When the statue of AIron Felix” was uprooted in 1991, it was for many a sign that the repression he sponsored was forever gone. In 2001 the Orthodox Church canonized thousands of New Martyrs who were victims of Soviet repression.

Human rights activists see the move to reinstate Dzerzhinsky as an indication of the bent of Russian politics back towards authoritarianism under the continuing influence of former president and ex-KGB agent Vladimir Putin.

ADzerzhinsky is the demonic enemy of Russian Orthodox Church. His hands are steeped in blood of the New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia. His rehabilitation is contrary to the authorities’ course for the revival of great Russia,” the Union of Orthodox Believers said in a statement.

The campaign to raise the statue anew came from the Union of Veterans of State Security, angered that the statue is lying in ruins outside Moscow.

No national museum exists to commemorate the victims of the Soviet Gulag concentration camps. In the place were the Dzerzhinsky statue once stood and where he would be re-erected now stands a large stone from one of the Gulag Islands.

Partnership’ needed from Jerusalem clergy who had fist fight

Armenian and Greek Orthodox monks who engaged in fist fights at Jerusalem’s Church of the Holy Sepulcher in November, following a disagreement about access to the site, need to work as partners to resolve their issues, a senior Armenian bishop has proposed. “We are partners for life,” said Bishop Aris Shirvanian, director of ecumenical and foreign relations of the Armenian Patriarchate in Jerusalem.

Bishop Shirvanian was the presiding cleric when the brawl broke out during an annual Armenian procession on November 9. The procession was commemorating the 4th-century discovery of the cross on which Jesus is said to have been crucified.

The Greek Orthodox had demanded the presence of a representative monk inside the Edicule, the building surrounding the site of Jesus’ burial and resurrection, during the Armenian-led ceremony. When the Armenians refused, the Greek Orthodox blocked their path and a fight ensued. Israeli police rushed in to separate the two sides and arrested a monk from each group.

“Regrettably it doesn’t leave a good impression since two Christian denominations were involved in the fight in the most holy place,” said Bishop Shirvanian. “But unfortunately that is not something new in holy places. In history even worse things have happened.”

In addition to the Armenian and Greek Orthodox churches and the Roman Catholics, the Coptic Orthodox, the Syrian Orthodox and the Ethiopian Orthodox churches share rights within the church.

A 19th century agreement regulates their rights. Any changes in the structure of the church, and even cleaning of the area, must be agreed upon by all the religious communities concerned.

The last incident between followers of different traditions occurred on Palm Sunday when Armenian and Greek Orthodox priests and pilgrims were caught in another altercation at the same site.

Some four years ago Greek Orthodox members were involved in a fight with Franciscans involving the positioning of the door of the Franciscan chapel during a Greek Orthodox procession.

Bishop Shirvanian said the Greek Orthodox failed to honor an 1829 edict during Ottoman rule prohibiting Greek Orthodox interference in Armenian ceremonies. He said the decision is included as part of the 19th century Status Quo agreement.

“I’m sorry that these events happened within the most sacred religious monument of Christianity,” said Greek Orthodox Archbishop Aristarchos, chief secretary of the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate.

USA: More Orthodox converts

A study of Orthodox Christians in America released in October found a larger-than-expected number of converts, mostly from Roman Catholic and evangelical Protestant backgrounds. The study was carried out by the Patriarch Athenagoras Orthodox Institute in Berkeley, California.

The report surveyed 1,000 members of Greek Orthodox or Orthodox Church in America congregations, which represent about 60 percent of America’s estimated 1.2 million Orthodox Christians.

Although Orthodox churches were historically immigrant communities, the study found that nine out of ten parishioners are now American-born and that thousands of members had converted to the faith as adults: 29 percent of Greek Orthodox are converts, as are 51 percent of the OCA.

The study also found high numbers of converts among clergy C 56 percent in the OCA, 14 percent in the Greek Orthodox church. In both cases, the higher OCA numbers reflect that group’s use of English in its worship services.

The study’s other findings showed a majority of Orthodox Christians support allowing married bishops. They also favor efforts to coordinate a common date for Easter, which typically falls several weeks later for the Orthodox due to their use of an older liturgical calendar.

Europeans more religious than was thought

While fewer Europeans are going to church than in the past, a large majority still regard themselves religious, according to a study released in October by the Bertelsmann Stiftung, Germany’s largest privately-operating foundation.

“Although everyone has been talking about religion, there has been no reliable information about what people actually believe and its consequences for everyday life,” said Martin Jaeger of the Gütersloh-based foundation. This survey looked for the first time at religiosity, rather than just institutional affiliations and self-perceptions. It shows the situation is highly complex; Europeans are much more religious than is often assumed.”

A total of 21,000 respondents from 21 countries took part in the Areligion monitor” survey that included 100 detailed questions about belief in a divine being, faith experiences and interest in religion. 74 percent of people described themselves as religious and a quarter as Avery religious.”

The highest levels were in Italy and Poland, the lowest in France. Church attendance remained part of normal life for 90 percent of Poles and 75 percent of Italians, with attendance figures of 45 percent for the French and 44 percent for Germans. Only 27 percent of Europeans said they did not belong to any church.

Roman Catholics were more likely to be devout than Protestants, with 42 percent of Catholics stating that they attended church, compared to 15 percent of Protestants, although a large proportion of all ages also saw their beliefs as embracing only certain aspects of their tradition. (Figures for Orthodox Christians were not included in the press report.)

EU politicians have been accused of ignoring the role of churches and faiths, unmentioned in EU documents until the late 1990s.

Although a new Europe treaty acknowledges the continent’s Acultural, religious and humanist inheritance,” some church leaders have warned that the EU’s narrowly secular emphasis fails to reflect social and cultural attitudes. [ENI]

Global warming opens a waterway around the North Pole

Open water now stretches all the way round the Arctic, making it possible for the first time in human history for ships to circumnavigate the North Pole, it was announced in August. For the past 125,000 years ice has sealed the route. Satellite images show that melting ice had opened up both the fabled Northwest and Northeast passages. It is the most important geographical landmark to date to signal the rapid progress of global warming.

The opening of the passages has been eagerly awaited by shipping companies who hope to cut thousands of miles off their routes by sailing round the north of Canada and Russia, but environmental scientists see it as an ominous sign.

In July nine stranded polar bears were seen off Alaska attempting to swim 400 miles north to the retreating icecap edge. Massive cracking of the Petermann glacier in the far north of Greenland, an area apparently previously unaffected by global warming, has been reported.

In 2005, the Northeast passage opened, while the western one remained closed, and last year their positions were reversed.

But the new images, gathered by NASA using microwave sensors that penetrate clouds, show that the Northwest passage opened last weekend and that the last blockage on the north- eastern one a tongue of ice stretching down to Russia across Siberia’s Laptev Sea dissolved a few days later.

The Bremen-based Beluga Group says next year it will send the first ship through the Northeast passage cutting 4,000 nautical miles off the voyage from Germany to Japan.

Canada’s Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, announced that all foreign ships entering the Northwest passage should report to his government – a move bound to be resisted by the US, which regards it as an international waterway.

Fall 2008 issue of In Communion / IC 51

Rising out of the Fall

By Alex Patico

Alex Patico speaking at the OPF conference

Between yesterday morning – October 18 – and now, three birds have flown into one or another of the windows of our house, two of them fatally. Maybe the strong northwest winds just blew them into the unfamiliar territory of Maryland, or maybe it’s related to global warming, but I take it as an omen – an omen in the sense of God nudging us to pay close attention to what is happening around us.

The arrival of a cold front let us know that summer is finally over, as did the maple tree at the end of our street. It’s always the first in our neighborhood to show autumn colors. There are no more summer flowers in our garden. Clearly it’s time to change our wardrobe.

But the change going on around us is not only meteorological. There is also social, political and psychological change in the offing. Here in the US, we’re nearing the end of the longest-ever political campaign, a campaign being closely followed all over the world. What has seemed at times like years of primary races, speeches, debates and TV ads is finally reaching its conclusion. Whoever is declared the winner (so far the polls show Obama has a commanding lead), we are surely entering a new era.

The near-collapse of the financial sector, two wars in progress and an ambiguous and befuddling situation in the Middle East – these and other indicators mean that Americans, and the rest of the world with us, must raise ourselves, like tornado or flood victims looking over what once was their quiet, orderly town, saying, “What now? Where to start?”

Along with the disturbing disorientation of destruction, though, comes an up-side. With every such enforced starting-over, every building-up-again-from-scratch, we have an opportunity to do it better. The home that in fact was never quite suited to its inhabitants can now be built to fit their own personalities and real needs. The landscaping that had grown up helter-skelter can be done more thoughtfully. Now that we’ve been knocked on our collective backside, we have the opportunity to create a better political, social and economic landscape than the one that seemed indestructible but in fact served all of us badly.

At War with the World: We may not be able immediately to construct , out of the rusted and twisted swords we have forged with such zeal and deployed at such great cost, some usable plowshares. But can we Americans not at least begin to institute an approach to national security that will restrain our vaunted military strength a bit with responsibility and humility? Can’t the widely-held perception of the United States as arrogant and bullying be replaced with an image of a superpower that actually deserves the name B one that preserves the peace, protects the weak and offers creative alternatives to violence?

Focus on the Family: As we approach the end of this first decade of a new century, can individualistic Americans leave the me-ism behind and realize how critical families really are? Will we eschew current cravings and start saving and sharing more, thereby paving the way a more sustainable long-term economic security? Will we find ways to unite on how to reduce abortions – whether through tuition in morals and a better appreciation of the consequences of promiscuity, or through more enlightened sex education as happens in countries like the Netherlands (which has the lowest abortion rate of any country keeping reliable records)? Will we act as though children really are precious, and provide them with stable home life, decent health care, quality education and assurance of protection from abuse?

Camels and Needles: Will this be the century in which we reexamine the prudence of trying to maximize growth and glorify ever more extravagant consumption? Can’t those who lead corporations recognize that a percentage-point raise in their compensation package often equals a poor family’s annual income at bare-survival levels? That their latest superfluous acquisition – replacement hardware for their yacht or an engraved elephant gun – may be a year’s nutrition for the child of one of their employees? Might we see a few more people eschewing the building up of what is vulnerable to moth and rust, and starting to accumulate no-expiration-date kinds of wealth, through service, caring and sacrifice?

Amnesty for the Environment: Will the earth, now groaning from insult and injury, be given a reprieve by its “noblest” species? If both presidential candidates had to at least pay lip service to renewable energy, lowered consumption and life-style change, dare we hope that this is a harbinger of something more than a momentary energy tee-totaling, maybe a true environmental sobriety?

Faith: We receive mixed signals from the culture that surrounds us. Atheist books fly off the shelves, but the growing communions are those that actually ask something of their flocks. Casual sex seems omnipresent and selfishness has long been a way of life for many, but a remarkable number of young people seem to be rediscovering selflessness. Many are searching for authenticity and rejecting the superficial. Might this become a trend that marks an upcoming generation? We can only act to ensure that, if those ready to live in a way that isn’t driven by selfishness knock on our doors, they are not turned away by a cold shoulder or cynicism or condescension as they make their costly pilgrimage. If they have the spirit of searching, they have already been blessed. Let us further bless them with Christian fellowship and God’s truth B in all its challenging, eye-opening, transformative profundity.

The Church: We who are Orthodox Christians are better known for hanging on to our ethnic roots than for responding to the desperate needs of those in need. Can we claim to love God if we are blind to our neighbor? St. John warns us that those who say they love God and are indifferent to their neighbors are liars. We have taken great care to preserve the Liturgy and truths and traditions that others churches sadly threw overboard – thank God for all that we have preserved! – but how well are be giving witness to Christ’s mercy and Christ’s peace? Is it not time for renewal for us as well?

The season is changing. Do we have the right clothes in our closets? It’s time for a change.

Alexander Patico coordinates activities of OPF in North America.  He has written previously for In Communion and authored a forthcoming book on U.S. Iran relations. At times he writes poetry. Alex is a member of the US Committee of the WCC’s Decade to Overcome Violence. He attends Holy Cross Antiochian Orthodox Church in Linthicum, MD.

Fall 2008 issue of In Communion / IC 51

Restoring the Diaconate of Women

by Teva Regule

“Master and Lord, You do not reject women who offer themselves, and by divine counsel, to minister as is fitting to your holy houses, but you accept them in the order of ministers. Give the grace of your Holy Spirit to this servant of Yours also, who wishes to offer herself to you, and to accomplish the grace of the diaconate, as You gave the grace of Your diaconate to Phoebe, whom you called to the work of the ministry….”

These are the beginning words of the second prayer of ordination of the female deacon in the Byzantine rite.  The female diaconate is a part of our history.  For over one thousand years, the Orthodox Church ordained women to serve as deaconesses. As the Orthodox theologian, Dr. Kyriaki Karidoyanes FitzGerald, writes in Women Deacons in the Orthodox Church:

According to Byzantine liturgical texts, the ordination of the woman deacon occurred as any other ordination to major orders.  It took place during the celebration of the Eucharist and at the same point in the service that the male deacon was ordained.  She was ordained at the altar by the bishop, and later in the service, received Holy Communion at the altar with the other clergy. Depending upon the need, location and situation in history, the deaconess ministered primarily to the women in the community in much the same way that the male deacon ministered to men…. [The order] was gradually de-emphasized sometime after the twelfth century. It should be noted, however, that there does not exist any canon or Church regulation that opposes or suppresses the order.”

For over a century, various voices within the Church have called for the restoration of the female diaconate.  But what is the diaconate?  What is its function in the life of the Church? How has it evolved over time? What did the female deacon do? We know some of the roles of the historical deaconess. Lay women today are filling many of these functions. Is it still necessary to have an ordained ministry?  Is a permanent diaconate, especially a female diaconate, needed in the Church today?  What could this ministry look like in the 21st century?

The Diaconate in History: The Church’s ministry, modeled after Christ’s example, grew out of the needs of the community. In the early Church, when the Hellenists complained that their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food, the Apostles realized that they could not attend to both the word of God and serve “tables.” According to the account in Acts, they sought out “seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task.” This marked both the embryonic beginning of the office of the deacon.

The first place where we find the word “deacon” used as a title is in Romans. St. Paul writing to the Romans says, “I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon (diakonon) of the church at Cenchreae…” The works of Origen and Chrysostom show that patristic tradition upholds Phoebe’s position as a deaconess.

In one of the letters from Pliny, Governor of Bithynia, to the Emperor Trajan (112 AD), Pliny asks for guidance on how to handle the Christian sect, writing that he had to place “two women called >deaconesses’ under torture.”

We have a general understanding of the functions of the male and female deacon from early church documents. Each was answerable to the bishop. The male deacons ministered to men while the female deacons ministered to women. Each also had a liturgical role, although there is disagreement as to their precise functions. This parallelism can be seen in the Apostolic Constitutions passage that outlines the character of the deacon:

Let the deacons be in all things unspotted, as the bishop himself is to be, only more active; …that they may minister to the infirm…. And let the deaconess be diligent in taking care of the women; but both of them ready to carry messages, to travel about, to minister, and to serve…

This reflects an earlier understanding of the functions of the office found in the Didascalia Apostolorum. The Didascalia contains sections on the character of the deaconess and her ministry of assisting in the baptism of women and instruction of women converts.

During the Byzantine period, the diaconal office in the east, especially that of women, flourished, as we see this in the many women deacon saints on the calendar, including Sts. Macrina, sister of Sts. Gregory and Basil (July 19), Nonna, wife of St. Gregory of Nazianzus (August 5), Olympias, friend and confidant of John Chrysostom (July 25), Xenia “the merciful” (Jan 24), and Irene of Chrysovalantou (July 28) We also have descriptions of the makeup of the clergy serving during the Liturgy at Hagia Sophia, including “forty deaconesses.”

During this time, the male diaconate in the East grew in prominence, holding high positions in church governance, including participating in the Ecumenical councils (e.g. Athanasius of Alexandria, a deacon, was secretary for his bishop at the Council of Nicaea in 325). They also served as emissaries and ambassadors of the episcopal seat in diplomatic matters and were administers of church-run homes for the poor and widows, orphanages, and hospitals.

The order of the female diaconate began to decline sometime after the twelfth century. There were fewer adult baptisms so female deacons were no longer needed at initiation. In addition, in late Byzantium the rise of influence of Levitical rules, especially regarding women, led to the perception that the shedding of blood made a woman Aunclean” and therefore, unable to enter the sanctuary or participate in the liturgical life of the Church, though this was in direct contradiction to the understanding of >uncleanness’ found in the Didascalia Apostolorum and the Apostolic Constitutions. Chapter 26 of the Didascalia admonishes Christians to abandon the rabbinical rules of ‘uncleanness’: “Are they devoid of the Holy Spirit? For through baptism they receive the Holy Spirit, who is ever with those that work righteousness, and does not depart from them by reason of natural issues and the intercourse of marriage, but is ever and always with those who possess Him…”

The Apostolic Constitutions extends this emphasis: “For neither the lawful mixture [intercourse], nor childbearing, nor the menstrual purgation, nor nocturnal pollution can defile the nature of a [person], or separate the Holy Spirit from him…. but only impiety towards God, transgression, and injustice towards one’s neighbor…”

With the rise of Islam and the subsequent fall of the Eastern part of the Roman empire to the Ottomans, the Church turned inward. It could no longer participate in many of the philanthropic aspects of its ministry. Moreover, many of the traditional duties of the male deacon were being assumed by the priest and by the growing number of those in the so-called “minor orders.” This led to the position of the diaconate being perceived as more of a “transitional” one along the way to being ordained a presbyter. Although the male deacon retained his role in the liturgical assembly, the office had devolved greatly. Unfortunately, this is what typically remains of the order in the East today.

Modern Renewal of the Office: In modern times, the diaconate has experienced a renewal and rejuvenation, most notably (and somewhat ironically) in the Western Christian churches. While this movement is due mostly to the needs of the local churches, it is instructive to us, as Orthodox Christians, to realize that the theological reasoning and justification for a re-institution of the order came from careful study of the Early Church, primarily its expression in the East.

Although the diaconate in the Eastern Orthodox Church has remained an active ministry since apostolic times, its scope and function have greatly diminished since the fall of Byzantium. The male diaconate generally functions solely in the liturgical realm and, oftentimes, is only a transitional stage on the way to ordination to the presbytery. The female diaconate has virtually disappeared.

There have been numerous attempts for over 150 years to reinstitute the female diaconate. As early as 1855, the sister of Czar Nicholas I tried to restore the office. Other prominent Russians also lobbied for its restoration, including Aleksandr Gumilevsky and Mother Catherine (Countess Efimovsky). In 1905-06, several bishops, archbishops, and metropolitans of the Russian Orthodox Church encouraged the effort. This issue was to be a major topic at the Council of the Russian Church beginning in 1917, but due to the political turmoil in Russia at the time, the council’s work was not suspended. (Other items on the agenda included adopting the use of the vernacular in the liturgical services and the reinstitution of the married episcopacy.)

Other efforts were made in Greece. On Pentecost Sunday in 1911, Archbishop (now Saint) Nektarios ordained a nun to the diaconate to serve the needs of the monastery. A few years later, Archbishop Chrysostomos of Athens appointed Amonastic ‘deaconesses,’ nuns in fact appointed to the subdiaconate.

More recently, the issue has been discussed at the international conferences for Orthodox women in Agapia, Romania in 1976 (at which its restoration was unanimously recommended), Sophia, Bulgaria in 1987, Rhodes, Greece in 1988), Crete in 1990, Damascus, Syria in 1996 and Istanbul in 1997.

In July of 2000, after over a year of careful review of the subject, a letter was sent to the Ecumenical Patriarch by more than a dozen members of the Orthodox community in Paris, among them Elisabeth Behr-Sigel, Fr. Boris Bobrinskoy, Olivier Clément, and Nicolas Lossky. The letter notes that the Patriarch himself has stated that there is Ano obstacle in canon law [that] stands in the way of the ordination of women to the diaconate. This institution of the early Church deserves to be revitalized.” It also states that the order should Ainvolve more than a simple and archaeological reconstitution of the ancient ministry of the deaconesses … It is a question of its revitalization … in the context of the … present day.”

What would the deaconess do in the Church today? The question is generally preceded by the acknowledgment that the ancient deaconess assisted in the baptism of women, etc. It is oftentimes assumed that since we no longer have many adult baptisms (infant baptism being the norm) that we no longer need deaconesses. (Although a simplistic analogy, it is interesting that the same question is not asked of the male diaconate. i.e. Since we no longer need ‘table servers’ at the Eucharist, a function of the biblical diaconate, why do we need male deacons?) This issue has been discussed within Orthodox circles as well. According to the report of the Crete consultation (1990), a deacon or deaconess could

lead people in prayer, give spiritual counsel, distribute Holy Communion where possible. The renewal of the diaconate for both men and women would meet many of the needs of the Church in a changing world… catechetical work… pastoral relations… serving the same needs for monastic communities without a presbyter … reading prayers for special occasions, …performing social work … pastoral care … engaging in youth and college ministry … counseling … anointing the infirm …carrying out missionary work … ministering to the sick, … assisting the bishop or presbyter in the liturgical services….

The report concludes that a creative restoration of the diaconate for women, could lead in turn to the renewal in the diaconate for men as well.

The Liturgical Role of the Female Deacon: When discussing the reinstitution of the female diaconate, the question of her liturgical role, including her service within the altar area, often arises. It is my opinion, if this question were settled, we would currently have women deacons in the Orthodox Church.

According to the First Apology of Justin the Martyr (100-165 AD), the ministry of the deacon was expressed in the liturgical celebration of the gathered assembly gathered for the Eucharist,

reading the Gospel, leading the intercessions of the people, receiving the gifts of the people and ‘setting the table’ for the meal, serving the Eucharistic meal…. [Moreover] the social service carried on by the deacons seems to be been rooted in the liturgical celebration.

As we have seen, the link between liturgy and service is crucial not only to the office of the diaconate, but to our understanding of what it means to gather as Church in worship. It is in our service to the other that we are united with them. Our service to the other brings them with us to worship. We are their visible representatives.

Although the liturgy enables us to encounter God in a variety of ways and at differing levels, allowing us to experience a “taste of the Kingdom,” we must always remember that we are not fully, as yet, in the eschaton (end times). We live in the here and now and are called to draw all closer to God. In my opinion, it is a distortion of the office to have the male deacon serve only during the liturgy, but not within the community, and conversely, to have a future female deacon serve within the community, but not during the liturgy.

As Dr. FitzGerald says in her book, Women Deacons in the Orthodox Church:


It is important to remember that in the past women deacons did have important responsibilities in the Eucharistic assembly as well as in the administration of baptism, in praying with and for those in need, and in bringing Holy Communion to those unable to attend the Eucharist. … Today, these expressions of ministry can certainly continue. At the same time, we also need to examine how women deacons can participate in the Eucharist and other liturgical services in a manner which is expressive of the living Tradition of the Church and which is not defined by cultural norms of another time.

Need? But do we really need a rejuvenated diaconate and, in particular, a restored female diaconate? To help answer this question, it is instructive to understand the responsibilities of a typical parish priest.

Fr. Alexander Garklavs outlined a number of functions expected of today’s parish priest in his presentation at the 2004 Pastoral Conference held at St. Tikhon’s Monastery in June 2004. In additional to all the liturgical duties of the priest (Sunday and any daily liturgical services, baptisms, weddings, funerals, etc.), he enumerates some of the priest’s responsibilities in parish life, including pastoral visitations, educational work, Bible study, adult study, youth work, teen work, working with choirs and choir directors, marriage preparation, marital counseling, visiting shut-ins, grief counseling, hospital visits, office work, preparing and printing bulletins and schedules, parish mailings, aspects of parish administration, etc.

In 1953, Archbishop Michael of the Greek Orthodox Church in North and South America realized that there is so much to do in each community that

the endeavors of these priests alone do not suffice. For should the priest wish to know, as he must, his spiritual children by name, their problems, and their spiritual and moral needs, this would certainly be beyond his physical and spiritual resources. These tremendous needs of the Greek Orthodox Church in America has urged us to make a fervent appeal such as this to our daughters-in-Christ… With the future welfare of our Church and membership at heart, we are considering the establishment in this country of an order of deaconess.

Clearly, a rejuvenated diaconate, a ministry that has service as its primary focus, is necessary in our Church today. No one person can fill all the duties necessary for the building up of the Body of Christ, the Church. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians, AEach of us has been given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” The diaconate is not merely a Astepping stone” to higher orders. It is, as Dr. FitzGerald explains, Aa full and parallel order of ordained ministry to which both men and women are called by God.”

But is an ordained ministry necessary? It is an unfortunate effect of clericalism that lay participation in our churches varies widely. This is especially true of the participation of women. The range of women’s participation in the life of the Church can vary from diocese to diocese and even from parish to parish within each diocese. Still, many laywomen are already doing diaconal work in our parishes.

What does an Aordination” mean? To begin to answer these questions, it is important to remember that we are all called to ministry within the Body of Christ. Each of us is called to minister to others in our daily lives C we are all expected to teach others, especially those in our care. And yet, we set apart certain people to undertake certain care tasks on a professional basis. Unlike us, they must be trained in their profession and pass exams before we, as a society, confer a designation on them as Ateacher” or Amedical professional.” Likewise, throughout history the Church has Aset apart” those Aconsecrated for service.”

The female deacon in the 21st century… The Church is blessed to have a number of laywomen working in diaconal roles already, including pastoral assistants, chaplains, ecclesiarchs, and monastics. Through conversations and reflection, I have collected some of their experiences that I would like to share with just one with you. In this instance I was interviewing a woman serving as a hospital chaplain:

The first time I was scheduled to serve over night as an on-call chaplain, I received a page at 5 AM. I groggily called the Intensive Care Unit, and spoke to a nurse who requested that I visit an anxious, weeping patient who would be undergoing surgery later that morning. I was told that the patient, “Andrew” was Orthodox Jewish. The nurse said that Andrea had a tracheotomy, and therefore could not speak. I entered the small ICU, which was silent but for the beeping ventilator and monitors. I introduced myself to Andrew, a 50-year old man with a scraggly beard and dark eyes. I told him that I would be happy to sit with him in this time of anxiety, and pray with him if he desired. AI understand you are Jewish,” I said, thinking that I might try to locate his rabbi if he had specific religious needs. He shook his head, and began awkwardly attempting to cross himself in an Orthodox manner. “Oh!”, I said, “You’re Orthodox!” Apparently, he had been misunderstood. “Actually, so am I!” I said. His eyes registered surprise and joy, and he began crying calmer, gentler tears. He took a pad and wrote in large, shaky letters, “I am Orthodox. I am scared.” I put my hand on his shoulder and consoled him, and after a short conversation, via the notepad, about his surgery and his fears, I offered to pray for him. I taped an icon of the Resurrection on the wall across from his bed, and standing beside him, chanted the Trisagion prayers and a Psalm. Andrew became visibly calmer; a sense of peace came over his face. He left for surgery, trusting in God’s protection. I did not see Andrew again, but I believe that God led me to him on that early morning, to ease his fears and to refocus his heart on God’s loving presence in a time of suffering.

Consider how much more complete would this story have been if, having been ordained to the diaconate, the chaplain could have brought communion to this afflicted, ailing and frightened man?

It is my hope that the Church will not only restore the ordained female diaconate, but revitalize the office, encouraging women to serve within the community and the Liturgy B borrowing the words of Elisabeth Behr-Sigel of blessed memory B in the Acontext of the culture and present requirements of the day.”

* * *

Teva Regule has completed her Master of Divinity degree at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology and is now pursuing a second level master’s degree in liturgical theology. She is managing editor of the St. Nina Quarterly ( This is an abridged version of a paper presented at the Orthodox Peace Fellowship Conference held in Maryland in September. The full text, with footnotes, is on the OPF web site in the Resources section.

Fall 2008 issue of In Communion / IC 51


The Church as a Culture of Love

Here are extracts from a talk given November 11, 2008, by Bishop Jonah (Paffhausen) to the All-American Council of the Orthodox Church in America. The following day he was elected as the OCA’s new Metropolitan.

We are called to be the very presence of the one, holy, catholic, apostolic Church, constituted by the Gospel, by our faith, by the canons and traditions of the Holy Fathers that have been passed down to us. What is the ecclesiology of the Church? How do we understand how the Church is supposed to operate? Who are we and what are we trying to do?

We are a hierarchical church, but what does that mean? History has given to us an inheritance where hierarchy has been confused with imperial aristocracy.

First and foremost, that leadership of the Church, that element that comes from above, is the divine element. The leadership within the Church, the leadership of bishops, is different. If, as a parish priest, you lord it over your parishioners with the idea that you can do whatever you want and spend the money however you like without accountability, you are not going to go very far. In fact you are likely to get thrown out because you will get into all sorts of problems. That form of leadership is over. It doesn’t work, nor does it work on the diocesan or national level.

Our leadership is leadership within, and underlying this is the essential theological principle that is in every aspect of our theology. It underlies our soteriology, it underlies our Christology, it underlies our ecclesiology C and that’s the principle of synergy, of cooperation. It has to be a voluntary cooperation. Obedience, within that context, is not doing whatever you’re told by someone who lords it over you and who, if you disobey, will get you in trouble. Obedience is cooperation out of love and respect.

When love and respect break down, when the passions take over, when jealousy comes in, or anger, bitterness, resentment or revenge, it all breaks down.

Our whole life in this Church together is a life of synergy, a life of voluntary cooperation, a life of obedience to Jesus Christ and to the Gospel. If it is not about obedience to Jesus Christ and the Gospel, what are we doing here? The Gospel must be, above all other considerations, the canon by which we measure ourselves.

So when we look at our ecclesiology, when we look to see what the Church is and what the Church can be, it is always in the process of entering into that divine synergy which is nothing else than the process of our deification together as one body with one spirit, one heart, one mind. It’s a mutual decision to cut off our own will, our own selfishness, our own ideas, to enter into that living synergy which is communion. Otherwise our Eucharist is a sham and we are alienated from Christ.

We are called to be at peace with one another. This doesn’t mean that we don’t  have to work out disagreements, but we need to work them out so that we can enter into that experience of communion in cooperation and mutual obedience and mutual submission in love and mutual respect.

A culture of intimidation is alien to Christ. Unfortunately, this has been something that has prevailed, and still prevails, in certain sectors of the Orthodox Church. It is a demon that needs to be exorcized. Intimidation and the promotion of fear is never appropriate. This doesn’t mean that you aren’t going to get a rebuke. What father, out of love, doesn’t rebuke his children? God chastises those whom he loves. But our life in the Church must not be controlled by fear and intimidation. Because power corrupts, power needs to be renounced. It is only in our powerlessness, in our weakness, that we can become vessels for Jesus Christ. We need to be able to speak our minds, but in a sober way. Sobriety is just not about the use of substances. Sobriety concerns the passions – anger, bitterness, resentment, vengeance. Whenever we are possessed by those passions, we need to sit down and shut up, because otherwise all we are doing is sinning and compounding our sin by the words that come out of our mouths. It is so important for us to keep watch over ourselves, to keep watch over our words and thoughts. Have they sinned? Obviously. Do you sin? Obviously. How can you judge?

It’s the kind of hypocrisy that St. Paul condemned. We must mercilessly persecute hypocrisy within ourselves. If we can do this, as a community, the Gospel of Jesus Christ will shine through us. If we maintain resentments, it’s a cancer that will eat away our soul and destroy us. And it will destroy community with those other persons – and who do we resent the most, but the people we love the most?

What it the essence of the Gospel? It is repentance and forgiveness. And what is that repentance? It is to see that our distractions became ends in themselves that made us lose sight of God; and, upon seeing this, to turn back to God again.

Repentance means conversion; it means transformation of the mind. And that is a constant process for every single committed Christian. It is a constant process that we have to engage in both personally and corporately. When we engage in that process, we have to confront the anger and the bitterness and the hurts and the pain and the resentment that we have borne within us as reactions against people who have hurt us. Forgiveness doesn’t mean we are excusing or justifying anything. What we are saying is: My reaction is destroying me, and I need to stop it. If I value Jesus Christ, the Gospel and communion with God, I need to stop it and move on.

The renewal of the Church involves each of us. All of us are leaders of the Church. Our authority is founded on the responsibility to convey the Gospel, to convey the message of Christ, 95 percent by our actions and attitudes and five percent by our words. Authority is responsibility and accountability. It is not power. Hierarchy is only about responsibility. It’s not all this imperial nonsense.

The Church is our responsibility, personally and collectively, individually and corporately. What are you going to do with it? What you are going to do with your part of that responsibility? Maybe you haven’t been entrusted with the leadership of a parish. Maybe you think, “Oh, I’m just a housewife.” But what an incredible responsibility you have to your children, to your friends, to your neighbors, to the parish – what an incredible responsibility to bear witness to Jesus Christ by how you love and respect one another.

If you are a priest, think of the responsibility that you bear as spiritual father for your parishioners. One of the hardest things that happened in my ministry was the death of a 22-year-old brother who had happened to decide to go out river rafting on the spring thaw thinking, of course, as a 22-year-old would, that he is immortal. As his spiritual father I knew this mystery of spiritual fatherhood. After his death, there were times when I knew I was standing before God with him at the last judgment pleading for his soul. As priests, you have the same responsibility – to stand at the last judgment before the throne of God with those whom God has entrusted to you. It is an awesome mystery. As bishops, think of that responsibility We need to come together, in love and respect, to be willing to put aside the anger and the bitterness and show love for one another, show respect for one another, recognize the awesome responsibility of those who will give account for your souls. We will stand before God for you at the last judgment, whether it is your personal last judgment or the general judgment. This is the Scriptures, and this is the reality of this great mystery of our union in Christ.

How do we reestablish trust? There’s only one way. It is to choose to love. There is no other way. There are no organizational methods, no kinds of business practices we can invoke, no corporate ideologies. If we are Christians, we have the choice: Do we choose to enter into the love of Jesus Christ for one another – including our hierarchs, including our priests, including those who have betrayed us, including those who have failed us miserably, including those whom we judge and criticize and – all to our own damnation? We have to choose to love, we have to choose to forgive. This is the only way, if we are Christians.

It’s not about religion. It’s about our souls. It is about our salvation. It is about our life, our life as one body united by the Holy Spirit in Jesus Christ, sharing his own relationship with the Father. If we choose that, everything will be clear.

Fall 2008 issue of In Communion / IC 51

One Parish’s Engagement with its Homeless Neighbors

by Jill Wallerstedt

The morning begins as most do: friends coming for breakfast. A table spread with toast, peanut butter, jelly, butter, honey, bagels, cereal and milk makes you want to fill your belly, then have a cup of coffee or tea and chat about what’s going on around our small town.

We are part of St. Brigid Fellowship, an outreach to the homeless here in Isla Vista, California. To be homeless is to be nameless, avoided, shunned, blamed, hungry and exposed to the elements. Each morning that St. Brigid’s opens its door, every visitor is known by name, has a place to belong, and finds friends, acceptance, food, clothing and help getting out of any situations they wish to leave.

Isla Vista is a densely-packed, square-mile beach-side community which abuts the University of California at Santa Barbara (UCSB). It is home to students from UCSB and Santa Barbara City College, who make up 85 percent of the population, as well as homeowners, low-income workers, and homeless (many of whom prefer the term “unhoused” because Athe earth is our home.”)

Neighboring Santa Barbara deserves its reputation as a beautiful haven for the wealthy, lying between scenic foothills and the Pacific Ocean, and blessed with nearly year-round sunshine. For the not-so-wealthy, the limited housing and high cost of living make it difficult to make ends meet. Isla Vista and Goleta offer lower cost housing, but even so, a one bedroom apartment in Isla Vista rents for $1,100 a month. Students who rent on the nicest, beach-side streets pay $850 each for the privilege of sharing a bedroom with an ocean view.

Many of the unhoused come to Isla Vista because it is a small community and easy to navigate. The parks are their hang-outs. It’s illegal to sleep in the parks or in vehicles anywhere in Isla Vista at night, so a lot of sleeping happens during the day. Those with income are eligible for low-cost housing, but the waiting time is two to five years once you apply. The existing shelters are almost always full. There are no social services available here: the nearest ones are six miles away and the rest are in downtown Santa Barbara, twelve miles away. To survive, those without income or government benefits get money for food and alcohol by panhandling (or “spanging spare changing) or collecting cans and bottles to recycle for money.

St. Athanasius Antiochian Orthodox Church is near the heart of Isla Vista on a parcel of land surrounded by these parks. Our parish has been here since the early 1970s, long before we became Orthodox converts in 1987. We had a monthly food distribution for the poor for many years and have served Christmas breakfast for many years since.

In 1999 a group of Protestant volunteers asked if they could use our church kitchen to serve a weekly meal to the homeless on Thursday nights. They brought pre-cooked meals to our stove-less kitchen, set tables up outside, held a Bible study and then served dinner. I remember looking at the meeting on the patio, and thinking how nice it would be if they came into Vespers with us.

When this group could no longer provide meals, Fr. Jon-Stephen Hedges, our assistant pastor, took over. He moved the meal night to Monday and served one-pot soups and stews he cooked at home and hamburgers he grilled on the church barbecue. Attendance grew, perhaps because the only overtly religious elements to the dinners were the prayer beforehand and the cook’s clerical collar.

Fr. Jon got to know Aour neighbors on the streets,” as he calls them, and earned their trust. He heard their stories, made friends, helped where he could. They started to drop by his office on the church property during the week, and eventually, his other church work suffered. At the time, I was looking for a new job, and I was blessed to be offered a full-time job by the church in 2005: half-time raising money for our church school, St. John of Damascus Academy, and half-time working as assistant to Fr. Jon in his various duties.

Within a few months we realized that our work on the streets needed its own office. We rented space in the next-door medical clinic with a room for my office, a sitting area and supply closets, and a meeting room where mental health workers, job counselors and other providers could meet with us and our “clients.”

We opened the doors three mornings a week for drop-ins. Fr. Jon-Stephen named the ministry after St. Brigid, the Irish saint who was a compatriot of St. Patrick’s and who is commemorated both east and west. The scroll on her icon reads: “To care for the poor; To lighten everyone’s burden; To comfort the suffering.” This became our motto. The church agreed to a modest budget for our ministry.

Fr. Jon continued to see our neighbors in his office, but he was able to refer the simpler, day-to-day needs to me. The work started slowly. I handed out hygiene supplies, sleeping bags, coats, bus tokens, rain gear, and socks which were purchased by the church or donated. We offered the use of our telephone for calls and messages, and our address for applying for benefits and receiving mail. We served coffee. I met people and established friendships. I learned street names (Pirate, Wolf, Leprechaun, Veg-man) and their real names. I learned how to respond to angry outbursts as well as abject misery. I laughed and cried with people. I heard what it was like to be on the streets: stories of how others treated them, looked at them, how inequitable the system was. I became used to missing teeth, dirty hands, unkempt hair. The requests were so direct: AIt was freezing last night. Do you have anything warm to wear?” “I need a tarp to put over my sleeping bag when it rains.” “How do I get on food stamps?” “Do you have clean socks?”

We never intended to meet every need, especially those that were addressed by other organizations in Santa Barbara. We installed a rack with brochures about local services. From the start we were blessed to have the presence of Jennifer Ferraez, a parishioner who is also a Santa Barbara County Mental Health Outreach Worker for the Homeless. She arranged weekly visits to St. Brigid as part of her outreach, and taught me about the resources available in our community. She also provided the mental health assessments, referrals and counseling so many of our people needed. She is my sounding board and an ever-ready source of information.

As my unhoused friends started to trust me, they confided more. In this sometimes painful, personal exchange I heard about failed marriages, abusive childhoods, deep sorrows. I often felt overwhelmed. Prayer became a constant ally. I met people who were alcoholic or drug dependent, had mental illness, chronic medical conditions B and some with all three. I had my first face to face conversation with someone who was psychotic (he confided he was a superhero and offered to teach me to fly.) Most wanted housing, some lived in vehicles, others were happy on the streets if they could keep warm and fed.

I learned to make referrals for food stamps and general relief, how to help someone apply for SSI. Sometimes I couldn’t help in any other way but to listen, and mostly this was the most important. A public health nurse visited once a week, and the clinic downstairs began to see homeless people without charge.

About a year into the work, we had to move while the clinic remodeled. Since the move was to be temporary, we rented a portable construction office for $125 a month, a large trailer that occupied four spaces in our parking lot. I hung yellow lace curtains in the windows, which were quite silly really. St. Brigid’s new home quickly became known as “the dumpster with curtains.”

In the narrow trailer I had two storage cabinets in the back, my desk, filing cabinet and computer in the middle, and a table in front across from the door for a coffee pot and a computer that people could use. We stored sleeping bags and blankets under a slanted, built-in drafting-table, and put the phone and reference books on top of it. Actually, this is all that’s needed to start an outreach ministry – an open door, some basic supplies, an open heart.

Jennifer continued to come in once a week and to the Monday night dinners to help and teach. Fr. Jon-Stephen’s office was still next door on the church property and he came by daily. People began to drop by in greater numbers, not just to get something they needed but to hang out and talk. A sense of community emerged.

Somewhere along the line I developed my two rules: the first is that St. Brigid’s is a place of peace, a refuge from the streets, and that shouting, swearing and anger belonged elsewhere. (Some of the men who came in were so sensitive that if someone outside even used a loud voice in happy conversation, they would become upset and unable to talk.) The second rule was not to take coffee from the coffee pot before it finished brewing. I also inconspicuously monitored conversations and re-directed any that were inappropriate or disruptive.

We started serving peanut butter and jelly and bread with the coffee; then we got a toaster. The food table was outside the trailer. When it was cold we all wore coats. We jury-rigged a tarp outside that we could sit under when it rained, but we still got wet. One particularly rainy, blustery day, a friend got a large tarp out of her van and we all worked together to hang it around the church’s Sunday awning. I learned how to make ties from pieces of torn t-shirt. It worked fairly well as the only rain shelter in the area that day. We used the trailer for two years, then found out that the medical clinic was sold and we could not return to our office there.

We recently moved into a larger trailer on the church property and now have the luxury of two rooms: one for an office, and the other for our food table, supplies, computers, chairs and beginning library. When it’s sunny we use the deck outside and when it rains, we will even have a roof. What a concept!

We’re now open five days a week for breakfast. With a grant we received we are hiring a 15-hour-a-week helper, Nikki Coalson, a young woman in our church. This means I can work with people in crisis while she makes sure everything runs smoothly. We are applying for other grants to expand our services.

I wish I had time to tell you the stories. Each person has his/her own, and together we have made new ones. Our team B all part time in the work B has made referrals for alcohol/drug detox, found people housing, gotten them benefits, seen them succeed, seen them relapse and start drinking again, shared joys, arranged reunions with family, had friends die.

The Monday night dinners have continued, drawing more people, some who never come in the mornings. Members of our church and the community help cook and serve, including doctors, nurses and politicians. There is now a group of UCSB pre-med students who have started a group called “Street Health Outreach”. They also cook a Saturday morning breakfast once a month and do street rounds the other Saturdays.

St. Brigid Fellowship has become a community, and a unifying force in Isla Vista. Fr. Jon-Stephen works Athe big picture” to make connections with other agencies and publicize our work as well as continuing his personal relationships here. Fr. Jon carries a badge as Chaplain to the Santa Barbara Sheriff’s Department and several other agencies. On him, the badge is a bridge. He also has an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT-B) certification. All of us work together to solve homelessness one person at a time. We’re part of Santa Barbara County’s Ten Year Plan to End Chronic Homelessness.

As for philosophy, we use an “incarnational model,” meeting people on the streets as Jesus did, addressing immediate needs and starting relationships that can lead out of homelessness. This is not a one-way ministry, us to them. All of us, both housed and unhoused, work together to solve problems.

When things are tough, we look at others as Mother Teresa did, as Christ in his distressing disguise, and do all with love. As St. John Kronstadt reminds us: “Never confuse the person, formed in the image of God, with the evil that is in him; because evil is but a chance misfortune, an illness, a devilish reverie. But the very essence of the person is the image of God, and this remains in him despite every disfigurement.”

This work is a blessing. My faith has grown, as has my prayer life.

If you or your parish is considering starting an outreach ministry, just know that it can be done simply. The most important part is taking the time to listen and talk. Your ministry can be handing out socks or sack lunches in the park, or feeding people once a week, or giving gift certificates to fast food or grocery stores. Whatever it is, take the time to talk. Introduce yourself and ask their name. You would be surprised how meaningful just exchanging names is to a person who is used to being snubbed and ignored. Don’t think you have to address all of the problems you will encounter – just do your part and listen to the Lord who will walk along side you and give you guidance, joy and peace.

Feel free to contact me, Fr. Jon-Stephen Hedges, and Jennifer Ferraez at [email protected], or (805) 968-8028.

Better yet, join us for breakfast and a cup of coffee. We would love to meet you.

Jill Wallerstedt has lived in Isla Vista, California for 30 years. She lives in a house dedicated to St. Xenia with two roommates and works for St Athanasius Orthodox Church as a homeless outreach worker and a fund-raising professional. Her dream is to be a full-time writer and live in community.

Then and Now: Confessions of an Outreach Worker

Then, when I saw a homeless person, I saw the dishevelment, shuffling, and shopping cart. Now I see a person with a story. Not likely a happy story, but there might be some joy in it. Maybe grace.

Then I saw filth, poor hygiene, beards and thought, go to a shelter. Now I know that the street is safer for some people, and there are not enough beds to go around for the rest.

Then I noticed the skin sores and rashes, hacking coughs, missing teeth. Now I see the bigger problems: the ?structure resistance” keeping a person away from services; the bad receptions at health clinics; the perfunctory dismissals for inability to pay; the lack of dental providers even for those with benefits.

Then I saw the blank stares and the “off in their own world” look and thought mental illness. Now I know that it might be a sane defense against the constant stares and comments of others.

Then I thought, get a job. Now I know the devastation of untreated mental illness and substance abuse, the consequences of severe child abuse, the effects of 35 years in jail. I know that the simple lack of a shower and clean clothes can cost a person their job.

Then I asked, Why doesn’t someone solve this problem? Now I ask – what is your name? Do you have somewhere safe to sleep? Are you warm enough? Do you want to talk?

Then I saw anonymous people, lumped together in my brain in the category “Avoid if at all possible, be kind if not able to avoid, keep your hand on your purse.” Now I know Rainbow from Little Rick. I know how people get their street names: Nira Dave, Buckethead, Veg-man. More importantly I know their given names, the names I call them by. A name is the beginning of identity.

Then I thought all homeless were alike. Now I know that some avoid everyone, including other homeless people, while others find strength in numbers. I know who drinks to excess and who can hold their liquor, who I can count on for help and who will just use me. I know why the women are on the street and why they always have a boyfriend, no matter how bad he is.

Then I believed everyone’s story. Now I take everything with a grain of salt until I can verify it.

Then I felt lower middle class, comparing myself to most others in Santa Barbara. Now, my car, roof, shower, washer, money, and health insurance seem like incredible wealth. Keys are a status symbol.

Then I wondered where brilliance and madness intersected and how to tell the difference. I still wonder.

Then I saw objects. Now I see individuals.

C Jill Wallerstedt

Fall 2008 issue of In Communion / IC 51

Dear In Communion reader

Our Fall issue as been edited in a time of crisis, indeed not one crisis but many. Wars are being fought in many places around the world, while terrorist events occur daily. Global warming is increasingly making itself felt  a news item in this issue reports on how much of the ice that once stretched from the north shore of Canada to the North Pole has melted. Finally, an economic melt-down has occurred during the last few months. Hundreds of thousands of people have lost their jobs. Factories are closing. Many more are homeless and hungry than when the last issue of In Communion went to press. Millions are living in great anxiety if not crippling fear.

Yet it is also a time of profound reflection on what has brought us to where we are, hemmed in by war, global warming, debt and economic devastation.

In an article in this issue, Alex Patico, OPF secretary in North America, makes this comment:

Will this be the century in which we reexamine the prudence of trying to maximize growth and glorify ever more extravagant con­sump­tion? Cant those who lead corporations recognize that a percentage-point raise in their compensation package often equals a poor familys annual income at bare-survival levels? That their latest superfluous acquisition … may be a years nutrition for the child of one of their employees? Might we see a few more people eschewing the building up of what is vulnerable to moth and rust, and starting to accumulate no-expiration-date kinds of wealth, through service, caring and sacrifice?

Jill Wallerstedt writes about such service, caring and sacrifice in her account of how her own parish is responding to the hungry and homeless in their small patch of the world. Its an example, I hope, that will inspire emulation by many other parishes.

Fr. Paul Schroeders essay about St. Basil the Great reminds us that love of neighbor was much more a hallmark of the early Church than it is of todays Church. St. Basils voice is one to which we need to pay much more attention.

Please remember that OPF leads a hand-to-mouth existence and do what you can to help us carry on. You may do so using the donation button.

Without those who make donations, we wouldnt be able to carry on our work, not to say expand it. (For those making larger donations, 100 or more per year, as usual we offer a choice of gift books. The latest addition to the list is the just-published revised edition of Praying with Icons, expanded and with all the icons in color.)

In Christs peace,

Jim Forest, OPF co-secretary


Fall 2008 issue of In Communion / IC 51