A blatantly commercial message for the new book, We Came, We Saw, We Converted – The Lighter Side of Orthodoxy in America (Conciliar Press). The spot is a humorous look at a book that takes a humorous look at Orthodoxy.
Silly, I know. Forgive me.
But, click here to listen …
and, oh, buy the book anyway!
The other night, on the way home from the St Nicholas party following Vespers, my 11 year old son said: “Dad, can we ride around the neighborhood and look at all the Christmas lights?”
I was tired. It was late. It was just he and I. How many more times would I ever hear this request …
We did.
It was fun. I’m ashamed to admit: My son was cracking on some of the decorations like a sarcastic pro (I resemble that remark).
For instance, he started laughing long before I saw it, saying: “Dad! Look! They’ve even got the Cross on their roof!”
Sure ‘nuf, in bright white lights like a landing strip, there was a huge shape of a cross on one roof. (Of course, Santa, Frosty, and all the other characters were found on the yard beneath.)
When it was all said and done and we were heading toward home, he said: “Hey! Turn here … I want to see Calvin and Hobbes.”
His mom and I had already walked the neighborhood the previous morning and I knew he was going to be disappointed.
I said, “They’re not there.”
He said, “Yes they are — they’re there every year. Turn here.”
You should have seen his disappointment when we approached the yard only to see an empty sleigh, Calvin’s parents with antlers on their heads singing carols, bags of presents and other nutty creatures … but, as yet, no Calvin, no Hobbes.
The time had finally come.
I did what I had to do.
I said, “Son … Calvin and Hobbes aren’t real.”
The Lighter Side of Orthodoxy in America
by Fr. Joseph Huneycutt
I just received word that the new book is shipping next week, second week of December.
So …
Place your order now to receive in time for Christmas (for customers in the Continental U.S.).
Thank you!
They say “you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear” — but, I’m not so sure … now that the Orthodixie Podcast intro/outro has been updated. Kinda spiffy! Let me know what you think. Listen HERE.
‘Twas the night of Nativity, when all through the church
No one was stirring, not even that naughty kid Burch;
The lampadas were hung by the icons with care,
In hopes Fr Vasilios soon would be there;
The children were seated all snug in their pews,
With visions of hotdogs, M&Ms; and juice;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I sans my cap,
Had just settled in for our long liturgical recap.
When out in the narthex arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my spot to see what’s the matter.
Away to the candle stand I flew like a flash,
Bumped into an usher, who was really quite brash.
The look on his face was one you would know
He looked like ol’ Scrooge more so than Mr HoHo!
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a little grey Pinto with eight kids in the rear,
It’s old engine sounded colicky, clackidy and sick,
I knew in a moment it must be that ol’ Widow Pasternick.
More rapid than eagles her charges they came,
While she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Nicholas! now, Nickos! now, Nikolai and Nixon!
On, Constantine! on Kostos! on, Gus and Constantinos!
To the front of the church! to the steps by the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the iconostasis the boogers did flew,
With handfuls of candles – seven day inserts too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard a big whoosh
I looked back behind me, and saw Phil Tamoush.
I went to say “Hi,” fore I turned back around,
When there rang a loud bell, heard throughout the town.
Father was dressed in white, from his head to his foot,
And his vestments were trimmed in gold – and silver to boot;
An icon of Jesus centered there on his back,
He looked out over us as he pulled the holy doors back.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were all covered … even his nose was hairy!
With wrinkles ‘round eyes his years did show,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The chains of the censer he held tight like a thief,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a Subdeacon who had a big belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly …
The Orthodixie Podcast on Ancient Faith Radio.
This episode originally aired December 2007.
From the New York Times, November 19th –
MOSCOW — The Rev. Daniil Sysoyev, a priest in the Russian Orthodox Church who was known for promoting missionary work among Muslims, was shot and killed in his parish church late Thursday night …
From Archpriest Peter Perekrestov of Holy Virgin Cathedral, San Francisco:
On Thursday, November 19, 2009 35 year old Fr Daniel Sisoev, a very active and straightforward missionary priest in Moscow, was gunned down by a masked gunman inside the St. Thomas Church. Below is a statement his wife issued.
PS We are collecting funds for Matushka Julia and her three girls which I hope
to personally deliver to her during my next trip to Russia. If you would like to
help out, please send a check (payable to Holy Virgin Cathedral and earmarked:
FOR FR DANIEL’s FAMILY) to my address:
Rev. Peter Perekrestov
475 26th Avenue, #2
San Francisco, CA 94121
USA
Fr. Peter is the priest at Holy Virgin Cathedral, where St. John Maximovitch relics’ rest.
On the Death of my Husband:
Dear brothers and sisters, thank you for your support and prayers. This is the pain which cannot be expressed in words. This is the pain experienced by those who stood at the Cross of the Saviour. This is the joy which cannot be expressed in words, this is the joy experienced by those who came to the empty Tomb.
O death, where is thy sting?
Fr Daniel had already foreseen his death several years before it happened. He had always wanted to be worthy of a martyr’s crown. Those who shot him wanted, as usual, to spit in the face of the Church, as once before they spat in the face of Christ. They have not achieved their goal, because it is impossible to spit in the face of the Church. Fr Daniel went up to his Golgotha in the very church which he had built, the church to which he gave up all his time and all his strength. They killed him like the prophet of old – between the temple and the altar and he was indeed found worthy of a martyr’s calling. He died for Christ, Whom he served with all his strength.
Very often he would say to me that he was frightened of not having enough time, time to do everything. He was in a hurry. Sometimes, as a human-being he exaggerated, he got things wrong, he tripped up and made mistakes, but he made no mistake about the main thing, his life was entirely dedicated to HIM.
I did not understand why he was in a hurry. The last three years he was busy serving, never taking days off or taking holidays. I moaned, just now and again I wanted simple happiness, that my husband and my children’s father would be with my children and me. But another path had been prepared for him.
He used to say that they would kill him. I would ask him who would look after us. Me and the three children. He would answer that he would put us in safe hands. ‘I‘ll give you to the Mother of God. She’ll take care of you’.
These words were forgotten too soon. He told us which vestments to bury him in. Then I joked that there was no need to speak about that, we still did not know who would bury who. He said that I would bury him. Once our conversation turned to funerals, I don’t remember the details but I did say that I had never been to a priest’s funeral. And he answered that it did not matter because I would be at his funeral.
Now I remember many words which have gained a meaning. Now my doubts have dissolved, the misunderstandings have gone.
We did not say goodbye in this life, we did not ask each other forgiveness, we did not embrace one another. It was just another day: in the morning he went to the liturgy and I did not see him again. Why didn’t I go to the church that day to meet him? I had thought of it, but I decided I had better get the evening meal ready and put the children to bed. It was because of the children that I did not go there. There was a hand that did not let me go. But the evening before I had gone to the church and met him. I had felt as if dark clouds were gathering over us. And in the last few days I had tried to spend more time with him. Over the last week I had thought only about death and about life after death. I couldn’t get my head around either the first or the second. That day my head was spinning with the words: ‘Death is standing right behind you’. The last week everything was so hard, as if a huge load had been emptied out on top of me.
I am not broken. He is supporting me, I feel as if he is standing by me. Then we said so many affectionate words, which we had never said to each other in our whole life before. Only now do I understand how much we loved each other.
The memorial service for the forty days of Fr Daniel takes place on the eve of his namesday and the patronal feast of the future church, 29 December, and 30 December is the feast of the holy prophet Daniel. According to the prophecy of an elder, the church would be built but Fr Daniel would not serve in it. The second part of the prophecy has already been fulfilled.
Matushka Julia Sysoieva
Translated by Fr. Andrew Phillips
Image Source
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