Orthodixie

Three New Diocesan Bishops Consecrated for the Self-Ruled Antiochian Orthodox Archdiocese of North America

The hyperlink takes you — as of today, 12/10 — to the front page pic. Otherwise, scroll to the above titled story.

Excellent words from a Catechumen on Mary, the Mother of God.

While we’re talking about the Theotokos …

The St Romanos Chorale, under the direction of Dr William Attra, choir master at St George Church in Houston, TX, has released a new audio CD entitled REJOICE, O QUEEN containing twenty-four hymns to the Most Holy Theotokos from throughout the Church Year. The CD is available for purchase at the price of $18.00 per copy (discounts available for parish bookstores) by contacting Dr Attra.

The St Romanos Chorale is composed of singers from seven parishes in the cities of Houston, Spring, Beaumont, and Austin, TX, and Shreveport, LA.

Finally … here’s a great deal on the RSV w/ Apocrypha.

The Episcopal Church, with the help of St Gregory’s, San Francisco, now offers an online Liturgical Resource. Here’s a bit of commentary from Midwest Conservative Journal:

So what sorts of resources can be found at The Worship Well? If you have to ask, you really should bail out now and go read something else. But if you have the stomach for it, here are two. The Rev. Bonnie Perry of All Saints Episcopal Church in Chicago delivered a sermon last March called “It’s a River, Not a Pie” that starts out like this:

Christianity. Not the Christianity that some would have us believe. It’s not the narrow, moralistic, judgmental, provincial ideology that some purport it to be. It’s not the constitutional amending, gay marriage-banning, if-you-love-another-adult-that-somehow-wrecks-who-I-love theology that some claim it to be.

The scriptural reality is that Christianity is first and foremost, not about keeping people out, it’s not about sending people away, it’s not about saying, “You can’t play.” Christianity in its finest form is an open door and a warm hearth. It is a gracious host meeting us at the door and saying, “I’ve waited so long to see you. I am so happy you’re here. You know, I was hoping you’d stop by.”

And ends like this:

My second thought: It’s a river, not a pie! God’s love for us is not a 9-inch, deep-dish strawberry, rhubarb pie – as delectable as that might be. God’s love for us is a raging, roaring, rain-forest fed, class five river of grace. It is an ever-flowing stream of abundant love. God’s love for us is not limited. God’s love is not finite. It is not a pie that is whacked up and given out parsimoniously to the deserving. God’s love, God’s welcome, God’s grace is distributed recklessly washing over all in its path. God’s love is a river-not a pie.

This one’s not quite as good as her famous sermon “It’s a Strawberry Daiquiri, Not a Bridge Abutment” but that one’s a homiletical masterpiece, pretty much.

The other example comes from St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church of, mirablie dictu, San Francisco. St. Greg’s, who has an icon mural of these people dancing on its walls, put together some principles of worship in June of 1999. They include:

God invites us to be God’s Friends.

We take part in a spirit of Holy play.

We make physical connection, touching one another as we greet the Gospel book, dance to the Table, exchange the Peace, and dance our final Carol.

We only put congregational music in people’s hands, music they will need to sing, so our eyes are up, not reading along. As we pray the Eucharistic prayer together, we listen or drone a support pitch (again, not reading along).

We move together physically – the whole congregation moves in processions and congregational dance.

THE first book I read on my way to Orthodoxy was The Orthodox Church by Timothy Ware. Mind you, I didn’t know I was on my way to Orthodoxy. In fact, I was on my way to Nashotah House [Episcopal] Seminary.

Timothy Ware is now Bishop Kallistos. Also, his classic work is now online!

Thanks to Jan Bear.

A few reminiscences from the past week …

Christmas favorites blaring from AOL Radio on the Computer in the living room … 10 year old singing, 2 year old hopping & dancing (in that hop-dance combination that only two year olds can) … 6 year old boy doing something akin to break dancing and convulsing while belly flopping on the recliner.

Christmas.

Asked a coworker at the recovery center to portray St Nicholas at our church on Sunday, the eve of St Nicholas Day. We’ve always had presents available for the kids, but never a visit from “the Saint.”

Zeek’s not a churchgoer. He grew up Roman Catholic and used to serve in the altar … till one day he tripped on his robes and fell. And then there was the time he was supposed to pour water over the priest’s fingers and he, well, used the wine. He’s always very animated when he tells that story … about getting fired as an altar boy. I’ve heard it at least five times.

He was a portrait of humility on Sunday as he handed out presents, in costume, to our gathered young folks. They were in awe. Even the adults were … different. It was a touching scene. He later said it made his day. Others at work have said that he can’t stop talking about it.

Christmas.

Listening to the “John Boy & Billy Christmas Album” CD … at least one selection from Lipless … “All I Want For Christmas is my Lips to Touch.” My son can’t remember half the things we tell him. He remembered that though. He’s also been singing “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg!” — much to his parents’ chagrin — for months now.

Christmas.

As we’re leaving church the 10 year old asks, “Dad, who was that?”

“Who?”

“The guy you had playing St Nicholas.”

“I guess it was St Nicholas.”

“Dad! Come on. Who was it? Mom said she didn’t know him.”

“I don’t know, Mary Catherine, I just assumed it was St Nicholas.”

“Dad!”

“No … it couldn’t have been St Nicholas,” the six year old interjects, “because St Nicholas has two pieces of hair on the side and one on top. Right, Daddy?”

[He’s referring to the Saint’s balding pate as portrayed in some icons.]

“Well …”

Christmas.

By the time we got home, it’s only a five minute drive, Basil had convinced himself that it really was St Nicholas. He said that he was watching him leave the church and then he just vanished into thin air … and went back to heaven. [My wife’s version is that while Basil was watching him leave the church parking lot, she closed the door cutting off his view.]

Whatever.

Zeek loved that story.

Christmas.