Orthodixie

Subdeacon Andrew was a joy. He’d served for over 40 years as a Deacon in the Episcopal Church before converting to Orthodoxy back in 1996. By the time he was ordered a Subdeacon, he was nearly 80. This, coupled with his childlike nature — no guile at all — made for some delightfully erroneous moments in the altar.

Once, while I was outside the Holy Doors preparing to chant a litany, the Subdeacon came out of the northside Angel Door and stood by me. Thinking he was going to ask me a question or tell me something important, I paid him no mind. The Psalms being ended by the chanters, I commenced the great litany of Matins. After about 4 petitions I looked over at him, still standing by my side, and raised my eyebrows. He smiled and went back to happily staring at the icons on the iconostasis. While the chanters replied to one of the petitions, I leaned over and said, “What are you doing here?” He turned, draped his arms around my neck, hugged me, and said with a big smile, “I don’t know!” We laughed. He retired to the altar.

One Sunday, I’d gotten up early and realized we had no bread for oblation. My long suffering wife arose and made the bread just in time for Matins. While I was puttering around making sure all the preparations for Liturgy were in order, I noticed the Subdeacon cutting up the holy bread (Antidoron) for distribution to the faithful. Yet, about every fifth piece was being popped into his mouth …

“Are you going to receive Communion today?” I asked.

“Plannin’ to,” he mumbled as he chewed.

“Then stop eating up all the holy bread!”

He honestly had not realized what he was doing! He looked a bit embarrassed and said, “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. But it smells so good!”

My favorite story happened one night following Vespers. We had a new family in the church whose beloved Mother/Grandmother had died the year previous. The daughter, a grown woman with grandchildren of her own, wanted us to serve a Panakhida (memorial service). The whole family was gathered, the family Matriarch was crying. The choir began …

Subdeacon Andrew came out and stood by me, beside the memorial table. When it was about time for the censer, I went to receive it from him … he was empty-handed. I said, “Go get me the censer.” Into the altar he went. The choir was singing beautifully …

He exited the altar and handed me the censer. I went to bless the incense … there wasn’t even charcoal inside.

Meanwhile the Matriach’s crying, the choir is singing …

I whispered, “There’s no charcoal.” Back into the altar went the Subdeacon. He quickly returned, handing me the censer …

You guessed it. There was charcoal … but no incense!

It dawned on him about the time I was trembling. Back he went …

Meanwhile the Matriach’s crying, the choir is singing …

Quickly the aged and beloved Subdeacon reappeared with a censer and lighted charcoal. But, alas, the incense had fallen off the target and wasn’t smoking. Here’s where I took charge. Sometimes, it’s possible to tap the base of the censer on the floor — causing the incense to pop up onto, at least more closer to, the charcoal. This I did.

At precisely the moment of impact, one of the chains on the censer broke, the contents of the censer (that would be, most importantly, a burning coal) spilled out onto the carpet.

Meanwhile the Matriach’s crying, the choir is singing …

Book in one hand, broken censer in the other; I looked toward the Subdeacon, in split-seconds now become eternity, and he resembled a Major League Ump with hands on knees staring down at the smoldering scene as if to see just what would become of it. I stage-whispered, “Pick it up!”

(Now, really. Who wants to pick up a burning piece of charcoal?)

By the time he said, “Wha …” I’d picked it up, burned my fingers and put it in the censer. I grabbed the broken section of chain and did my best to cense the table in the normal fashion.

All in all, I don’t think the grieving family ever noticed.

However, when it was all sung and done, I was beside myself.

We had an old friend staying with us as a house guest. By the time I made it next door to the Rectory, I was slightly disturbed. I flung myself down into a chair and opined: “Is this my last day on earth?!”

To which he replied: “No … that was yesterday!”

* Phronema is a Greek term that is used in Eastern Orthodox theology to refer to mindset or outlook; it is the Orthodox mind. The attaining of phronema is a matter of practicing the correct faith (orthodoxia) in the correct manner (orthopraxia). Attaining phronema is regarded as the first step toward theosis, the state of glorification.
Source

Subdeacon Andrew, aka “Fr Douglas,” served the Lord in the Episcopal Church for over 40 years and the Orthodox Church for 33 months. May his memory be eternal!

How to stay safe in the world today.

1. Avoid riding in automobiles because they are responsible for 20% of all fatal accidents.

2. Do not stay home because 17% of all accidents occur in the home.

3. Avoid walking on streets or sidewalks because 14% of all accidents occur to pedestrians.

4. Avoid traveling by air, rail, or water because 16% of all accidents involve these forms of transportation.

5. Of the remaining 33% …
32% of all deaths occur in Hospitals.
So … above all else, avoid hospitals.

BUT … You will be pleased to learn that only .001% of all deaths occur in worship services in church, and these are usually related to previous physical disorders. Therefore, logic tells us that the safest place for you to be at any given point in time is at church!

From an email from my wife, who got it from my mom, who got it from …

If you want to have the kind of a church
Like the kind of a church you like,
You needn’t slip your clothes in a grip
And start on a long, long hike.

You’ll only find what you left behind,
For there’s nothing really new.
It’s a knock at yourself when you knock your church;
It isn’t the church — it’s you.

When everything seems to be going wrong,
And trouble seems everywhere brewing;
When prayer meeting, Young People’s meeting, and all,
Seem simmering slowly — stewing,
Just take a look at yourself and say,
“What’s the use in being blue?”
Are you doing your “bit” to make things “hit”?
It isn’t the church — it’s you.

It’s really strange sometimes, don’t you know,
That things go as well as they do,
When we think of the little — the very small mite —
We add to the work of the few.
We sit, and stand around, and complain of what’s done,
And do very little but fuss.
Are we bearing our share of the burdens to bear?
It isn’t the church — it’s us.

So, if you want to have the kind of a church
Like the kind of a church you like,
Put off your guile, and put on your best smile,
And hike, my brother, just hike,
To the work in hand that has to be done —
The work of saving the few.
It isn’t the church that is wrong, my boy;
It isn’t the church — it’s you.

— Unknown

Taken from The Best Loved Poems of the American People, pp.93-94.

Fr John Whiteford offers a thought provoking video on Orthodoxy among Africans and African-Americans … H E R E.

A priest from Atlanta once recalled Metropolitan PHILIP telling him that we need to do everything we can to help bring African-Americans home to the True Faith.

What are we (you, me) doing?

Speaking of Atlanta, the sermons of Dr Tony Evans are always worth a listen. Much of what is preached from the pulpits (though they never seem to use them) of black churches is sound, Christ-centered and true. Whereas, in my opinion, popular white preachers often seem to be no more than positive-mental-attitude-snake-oil-salesmen.

There’s much to be done, no doubt. And we’re a long, long way from seeing T.D. Jakes convert. But, ya gotta admit, THAT would be a hoot!

Maybe it’s just me and my upbringing, but I have never ever understood stuff like this:

“I can’t speak for the religious, but I cannot imagine anyone feeling a greater sense of the spiritual than I do when I look up at a starry sky on a cloudless night. I’ve said it before and I’ll continue saying it: There is more awe and wonder in one chapter of an introductory astronomy book than in any ten Bibles.

During the 2000 presidential campaign, when Al Gore nominated Lieberman, an Orthodox Jew, as his running mate, Americans were asked if they would vote for a qualified Jewish president. Over 90% of respondents said “Yes.” In the same poll, only 49% claimed they would support an atheist for president. While Jews can take heart in these numbers, atheists and humanists can only shake their heads in astonishment. When half of Americans still equate godless with immoral, there is clearly a massive amount of work to be done.”

You can read the whole article by David Gleeson H E R E.

Ugh! Spoiler alert …

“In the meantime, it is my fervent hope that our children’s children inherent a world free from superstition, fear, guilt, arrogance and sin, and that we all learn to embrace a new, spiritual atheism that espouses love and tolerance toward each other, and awe and humility in the face of an endlessly wondrous, but godless, universe. “

Oh, and by all means, click here for the pic source & commentary.