Benedicamus Domino!
I am slowly coming to believe that we all are creative, we all seek to make, to bring into being, something new and never seen before. Just because we might not have an artistic bent, does it then follow that we must consider ourselves barren of this creative spark? Is creating simply and solely the province of those who work with brush or chisel, piano or pen? I say no, for living can be an art as well. Living can be about creating something beautiful. Sometimes it involves chipping away rough edges. Sometimes it's about piecing broken shards back together! Whatever task we're engaged in at the moment should be generative, should be creative. How would it be if we actually learn to view our lives as works of art, as things continually being made at every moment? What if we learn to see the things which detract from the beauty inherent in us and, rather than letting them consume us, we simply acknowledge them and then set about the task of fixing them? Of course, it takes other eyes than ours to truly show us these things. It takes our Creator to show us how to take a hand in His artistry and to allow Him to restore us to the glory which only He truly knows, and therein lies the difficulty. This restoration might seem painful to us. He might strip away layers which we thought beautiful at first but which He knows would smudge our true beauty. How do we let Him do this? How do we let go of the fear of change?
For everyone, this answer will be different, but it must happen and keep happening. Every time we seek to hold onto things which would weigh us down, which would dull the colours of our lives, we must remind ourselves that our Creator seeks to beautify, to reveal beauty rather than to destroy it. If His fiery hand seems to consume us, we must remember that it seeks to consume the dross and to leave us the gold. Christ wishes our joy to be full. Imagine what it must be like to truly live in the fullness of joy! It must be beautiful and terrible beyond telling! It must be beyond all fears and all affections! It must be a continual shimmering music which strikes the soul like kindling fire and causes it to be caught up into the endless singing! It must truly be ecstasy!
I believe that I have heard the merest faint echo of the sound of that joy. It came to me yesterday in the form of a new song, and here it is. It waited a whole year to be born, and now it has come. Glory to God for all things! It is a setting of the Hopkins poem "Heaven-Haven (A Nun Takes the Veil."
Sara Hillis - Heaven-Haven (A Nun Takes the Veil)
Deo Gratias!
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Capturing a Moment
Benedicamus Domino!
William Wordsworth once famously wrote that poetry is "a spontaneous overflow of emotion recalled in a time of tranquility." I've often scoffed at this definition, but I am now forced to conclude that he may very possibly be correct. The following piece is not a poem as far as I tend to define the term, but it is, I think, my best attempt at capturing the moment at which I realized that Christ really was the fulfilment of all things for me. It's a meditation I wrote as a result of this Hildegard of Bingen course-thing I'm taking. Here it is!
Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Inana! Ye mothers of the moon! Ye virgins of the fields! Ye crones of the eastern deserts! Exult now and be glad! Danae, Lito and Psyche, dance with unending joy, for your stories have come to fulfilment! Your tales told round fires and in temples have pointed the way to the truest twining of the green of Eros and the gold of Agape, for it was Mary who was showered in the true gold, Mary who bathed in the green of the Spirit as the Word took root in her mortal womb! Here at last was the reason for the telling of your tales, ye goddesses of field and forest, for as in you was conceived and born the quickening life of the sun and the famous warrior who protected his people, so was conceived and born in her the Christ, the conqueror of death and the victor over hell, the renewer of the world, the springtime in our wintry wanderings! See how Mary is lifted high above you all! See how she is both maiden and mother, but in her, no crone exists. No descent to the underworld must she make, for death cannot hold her whom Christ hath quickened with his very self! See the miracle and rejoice with me, for now we know what was hidden in the poetry and passion, in the rituals and the rhymes of the old ways. Christ is among us and the ladder by which He descended was none other than Mary herself, a mortal woman made immortal and wise by the greening power of God! Amen!
So, there we have it. I'm glad I was finally able to do this! I think it will open up a lot of interesting creative avenues for me!
Deo Gratias!
William Wordsworth once famously wrote that poetry is "a spontaneous overflow of emotion recalled in a time of tranquility." I've often scoffed at this definition, but I am now forced to conclude that he may very possibly be correct. The following piece is not a poem as far as I tend to define the term, but it is, I think, my best attempt at capturing the moment at which I realized that Christ really was the fulfilment of all things for me. It's a meditation I wrote as a result of this Hildegard of Bingen course-thing I'm taking. Here it is!
Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Inana! Ye mothers of the moon! Ye virgins of the fields! Ye crones of the eastern deserts! Exult now and be glad! Danae, Lito and Psyche, dance with unending joy, for your stories have come to fulfilment! Your tales told round fires and in temples have pointed the way to the truest twining of the green of Eros and the gold of Agape, for it was Mary who was showered in the true gold, Mary who bathed in the green of the Spirit as the Word took root in her mortal womb! Here at last was the reason for the telling of your tales, ye goddesses of field and forest, for as in you was conceived and born the quickening life of the sun and the famous warrior who protected his people, so was conceived and born in her the Christ, the conqueror of death and the victor over hell, the renewer of the world, the springtime in our wintry wanderings! See how Mary is lifted high above you all! See how she is both maiden and mother, but in her, no crone exists. No descent to the underworld must she make, for death cannot hold her whom Christ hath quickened with his very self! See the miracle and rejoice with me, for now we know what was hidden in the poetry and passion, in the rituals and the rhymes of the old ways. Christ is among us and the ladder by which He descended was none other than Mary herself, a mortal woman made immortal and wise by the greening power of God! Amen!
So, there we have it. I'm glad I was finally able to do this! I think it will open up a lot of interesting creative avenues for me!
Deo Gratias!
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Spreading my Wings
Benedicamus Domino!
I was speaking with someone earlier this week and what we were talking about sounded to her as though it belonged in one of my blog entries. So, far be it from me to argue with such indisputable logic! Here goes!
I often find myself frustrated with what I perceive as the narrowness of some of the attitudes of the people in my faith. I mean, I know that straight and narrow leadeth unto life, but does that necessarily mean that one must develop such a narrow vision that one fears to look beyond its scope lest one be tempted away from Christ? (Wow! I never thought I'd get to the end of that sentence with its meaning intact!) I sometimes get the feeling that people in my faith, in their zeal to protect themselves and their children from the ever-intruding 'spirit of the age,' may occasionally go a little too far. I mean, if we really believe that nothing can stand against God, if we really believe that God is our help and protection, should we fear what we don't understand? Should we always be of a suspicious nature? It's this suspicious nature which I seem to have acquired, and I really don't like it.
We are called to be circumspect. We should look around us and see what is going on, and if necessary, we should eschew it if it seems truly destructive. But should we cast aspersions on some faith or some group of people or some book, say, simply because it does not conform to our beliefs? I've always maintained a negative answer to this question, the one caveat being that if it is happening within the church, we ought to take a good hard look at why it's happening and to figure out what the new or different element is trying to accomplish. John's writings condemn the nostics in no uncertain terms. To him, they were directly challenging the truth that Christ was and is a living man. To him, that would have been a personal insult as he had witnessed the resurrection himself. Say what you like about them, but they were going off the track, both of what Christ had taught and of what he truly was and is. So, I'm certainly not advocating straight relativism. I really do not believe that every idea in the world is valid just because it's an idea. I believe some stand up better than others, and some faiths stand up much better than others.
What I don't want to do is to create boxes for myself, and I always do this. I create a box for myself, and when something challenges that box, I get all frightened and suspicious of that thing. It might be as simple as a certain kind of language which someone uses to talk about God, for instance. I myself might not use that language, but should I become frightened of it just because I hear it? This seems to point to an utter lack of belief or trust or something. If God is who He seems to be, then He'll know if a person is talking to Him no matter what mode of discourse is being used. It's God that has to deal with each person, not me. My job is to just do my best and look to my own self and let the spirit of the age move as it will, for it is always changing.
I'm currently participating in an "online retreat." It's based around the time of Lent, but my Lent doesn't start for another month. Still, it involves the life and work of Hildegard of Bingen, a Benedictine Abbess from the 1100s. She's not Orthodox by definition, because she was born 44 years after what we call the Great Schism, when, due to several doctrinal and political factors, a bunch of bishops decided that east and west were no longer in communion with each other. However, there is no doubt in my mind that she was Christian, that she possessed the wisdom of her ancestors in the faith and was an amazing witness to the Benedictine spirit! Officially, I cannot call her a saint. Officially, I cannot ask for her intercession. However, does this mean that she cannot teach me things? Does this mean that I must simply deny a woman who's fiery words and heavenly music were one of the keys to Christ for me? I've wrestled with this kind of thing for a long time, and I've decided that it's high time I spread my wings. I have no intention of abandoning Orthodox Christianity. It's still the best thing going for my money. It has everything I need, and in my book, you either take the whole pill or leave it, because once you chop it up, a lot of its virtue is gone. However, I will not be bound by others' fears and warnings with no foundations. I think I know enough by now to tread cautiously and to be circumspect, and I hope I'm not such a fool as to stop discussing things with others of my faith. So, I am letting Hildegard's idea of the greening (viriditas) power of God enter into me during this retreat. That is what He's all about, really, bringing things to life and quickening even the dead! I want to stop being afraid. I want to stop feeling as though my faith might snap like a twig at the slightest pressure from outside. Perhaps my faith would do that, but that is when we can call to God: "Save me, Lord! I perish!"
Deo Gratias!
I was speaking with someone earlier this week and what we were talking about sounded to her as though it belonged in one of my blog entries. So, far be it from me to argue with such indisputable logic! Here goes!
I often find myself frustrated with what I perceive as the narrowness of some of the attitudes of the people in my faith. I mean, I know that straight and narrow leadeth unto life, but does that necessarily mean that one must develop such a narrow vision that one fears to look beyond its scope lest one be tempted away from Christ? (Wow! I never thought I'd get to the end of that sentence with its meaning intact!) I sometimes get the feeling that people in my faith, in their zeal to protect themselves and their children from the ever-intruding 'spirit of the age,' may occasionally go a little too far. I mean, if we really believe that nothing can stand against God, if we really believe that God is our help and protection, should we fear what we don't understand? Should we always be of a suspicious nature? It's this suspicious nature which I seem to have acquired, and I really don't like it.
We are called to be circumspect. We should look around us and see what is going on, and if necessary, we should eschew it if it seems truly destructive. But should we cast aspersions on some faith or some group of people or some book, say, simply because it does not conform to our beliefs? I've always maintained a negative answer to this question, the one caveat being that if it is happening within the church, we ought to take a good hard look at why it's happening and to figure out what the new or different element is trying to accomplish. John's writings condemn the nostics in no uncertain terms. To him, they were directly challenging the truth that Christ was and is a living man. To him, that would have been a personal insult as he had witnessed the resurrection himself. Say what you like about them, but they were going off the track, both of what Christ had taught and of what he truly was and is. So, I'm certainly not advocating straight relativism. I really do not believe that every idea in the world is valid just because it's an idea. I believe some stand up better than others, and some faiths stand up much better than others.
What I don't want to do is to create boxes for myself, and I always do this. I create a box for myself, and when something challenges that box, I get all frightened and suspicious of that thing. It might be as simple as a certain kind of language which someone uses to talk about God, for instance. I myself might not use that language, but should I become frightened of it just because I hear it? This seems to point to an utter lack of belief or trust or something. If God is who He seems to be, then He'll know if a person is talking to Him no matter what mode of discourse is being used. It's God that has to deal with each person, not me. My job is to just do my best and look to my own self and let the spirit of the age move as it will, for it is always changing.
I'm currently participating in an "online retreat." It's based around the time of Lent, but my Lent doesn't start for another month. Still, it involves the life and work of Hildegard of Bingen, a Benedictine Abbess from the 1100s. She's not Orthodox by definition, because she was born 44 years after what we call the Great Schism, when, due to several doctrinal and political factors, a bunch of bishops decided that east and west were no longer in communion with each other. However, there is no doubt in my mind that she was Christian, that she possessed the wisdom of her ancestors in the faith and was an amazing witness to the Benedictine spirit! Officially, I cannot call her a saint. Officially, I cannot ask for her intercession. However, does this mean that she cannot teach me things? Does this mean that I must simply deny a woman who's fiery words and heavenly music were one of the keys to Christ for me? I've wrestled with this kind of thing for a long time, and I've decided that it's high time I spread my wings. I have no intention of abandoning Orthodox Christianity. It's still the best thing going for my money. It has everything I need, and in my book, you either take the whole pill or leave it, because once you chop it up, a lot of its virtue is gone. However, I will not be bound by others' fears and warnings with no foundations. I think I know enough by now to tread cautiously and to be circumspect, and I hope I'm not such a fool as to stop discussing things with others of my faith. So, I am letting Hildegard's idea of the greening (viriditas) power of God enter into me during this retreat. That is what He's all about, really, bringing things to life and quickening even the dead! I want to stop being afraid. I want to stop feeling as though my faith might snap like a twig at the slightest pressure from outside. Perhaps my faith would do that, but that is when we can call to God: "Save me, Lord! I perish!"
Deo Gratias!
Thursday, January 24, 2013
When Does Life Begin?
Benedicamus Domino!
I've been hearing and reading a lot about abortion on both sides of the issue lately, and I thought it prudent to weigh in with my own thoughts. My relationship to this subject is a complicated one and involves many changes of opinion and belief over the years, so I trust that you who read this will view what I have to say as something which I have come to after much wrestling and struggle.
When I was a child, I heard the term "abortion" in the news a lot. Dr. Henry Morgentaler was crusading for the right for women to choose whether or not to carry a pregnancy to term here in Canada. We had no Supreme Court decision such as that in the US at that time. I believe it later came because of Morgentaler's efforts and was similar to the famous US case. Anyhow, by some means or other, Canadians can now legally have abortions.
I remember that I asked my mother what an abortion was, and when she told me, she cried. We are not Catholics. We were not practicing or church-going Christians, but still, my mother cried when she told me about abortions. It reminded her of a time when she had just come from having me, actually. I was premature and in some difficulty at the time, and a woman was there who had just had or was contemplating having an abortion. (So, somehow, it was legal to do this even before the late '80s. Hmmm... I'm now suitably confused.) Anyway, this woman struck up a conversation with my mother and explained how it just wasn't the right time for her to be having a child, so she decided to take this route. My mother was pretty shocked by what seemed to her this very cavalier attitude. Of course, it may not have been cavalier at all, but that's how Mom saw it, and it left an impression on her and later, on me. Still, being a "good little Canadian girl who keeps up with the times and is not an unenlightened and backwards thinker" (TM,) I identified myself as being "pro-choice." I did this throughout high school and into university. It's what you had to do if you wanted to be perceived as an intellectual and modern woman, after all! Of course, my qualification was always that I was pro-choice but that my choice would be never to have an abortion. True pro-choicers would accept this answer, because if there is a choice, there must be two alternatives, and it must be acceptable for a person to take a choice that you might not consider to be the right one. So, I was happy in my little world of wishy-washy fence-sitting. I didn't realize that the fence I was sitting on was made of barbed wire and that it was, in effect, cutting my soul in two while I sat on it.
When I came to this realization was when I had to come to terms with the fact that I had joined a church whose official stance on abortion is that it is murder. I had to sit back and really think about this. For the first time, I was having to puzzle out this idea for myself and really try to come to a thought-out and cogent agreement or disagreement with this stance. I had to really think about whether I really believed that life begins at conception, and in looking at my own unwillingness to consider abortion as an option for me, I realized that I did believe that life begins as soon as egg and sperm have joined. That little miracle (which is in a way against a lot of odds to begin with!) is the beginning and contains in itself all the potential of the child and later the adult. This is my belief, and as such, it cannot only be a belief which remains with me. It can't be true for me and not true for every other human being. I mean, others are free to dispute it, but if I believe it, I must believe it to be true for everyone. It goes to the very nature of humanity really!
One of the main rhetorical arguments I've heard on the Pro-choice cide of things is that women's bodies are their own. I can see why this became an argument. The Catholic Church's encyclical of 1968 pretty-much stated that the child should be preserved at all costs and that a husband has the right to get his wife pregnant as many times as he can even though she may be ill or weakened or sickly. Once conception happens, this document stated, that's it. It's now God's will that the child be carried and hopefully born. Also, it denounced all forms of really effective birth control. I have a problem with this which I'll explain in a moment. However, back to the main point. Are our bodies truly our own to use as we will? If one is a Christian, one would have to say that no, our bodies are not our own. Do they belong to our husbands to do with as they please? No. Wives and husbands must mutually consent both to engage in intercourse and to abstain. So, in what sense then are our bodies not our own?
Every human being was made by God. Every Christian seeks to bring more and more of him or herself into line with God's will, with God's self, actually. Women then have a great responsibility! Nowadays, there are measures one can take to delay the time of getting pregnant, and if a woman feels that she cannot do it at this time, I feel that she should have the right to wait until she can commit emotionally and physically to carrying a child. As far as I know, the Orthodox Church is not so damning of birth control as that encyclical I referred to before. This is all done before conception. No life has begun as yet. However, if a baby begins and is considered to be alive at the time of conception, then abortion by its very nature is murder. One thing which helped me to deal with this belief was that in Orthodoxy, there's no crazy place for babies who are aborted to go. They just go to God and are deemed to be on the same level as the children murdered at Bethlehem by Herod for Jesus's sake. This may sound harsh to our modern minds, but it makes sense if abortion is deemed to be murder. There's no use in sugar-coating it.
Does this then follow that I think the laws sanctioning abortion should be done away with completely and rapidly? I'd love it if this could be done, but it isn't realistic without some major societal changes. We've got to create a society where having babies is more planned than it currently is, and where unplanned babies can be given good homes. If we don't want people to get abortions, we have to find ways to give them more options! There are some populations which statistics say will have a harder time having their babies adopted than others. This has to change! Just doing away with the law may seem like a solution, but all it will do is cause unsafe procedures to be done as they were several years ago. Abortion has been around since man has been alive. Is it right? I believe that it isn't, but if it must exist in a world such as ours, I'd rather see it done with the least amount of harm possible. (And yes, I realize how hollow that sounds to someone who believes as I do that killing a life, any life at any age, is murder.)
You won't find me waving signs outside any clinics. You won't find me showing you pictures of dead babies and asking you to change your mind. However, you will find me expressing the view to which I have come as clearly and unemotionally as I can, and the major crux of that view as that we have a crappy society which needs a lot of changes for abortion to truly be abolished. Till next time!
Deo Gratias!
I've been hearing and reading a lot about abortion on both sides of the issue lately, and I thought it prudent to weigh in with my own thoughts. My relationship to this subject is a complicated one and involves many changes of opinion and belief over the years, so I trust that you who read this will view what I have to say as something which I have come to after much wrestling and struggle.
When I was a child, I heard the term "abortion" in the news a lot. Dr. Henry Morgentaler was crusading for the right for women to choose whether or not to carry a pregnancy to term here in Canada. We had no Supreme Court decision such as that in the US at that time. I believe it later came because of Morgentaler's efforts and was similar to the famous US case. Anyhow, by some means or other, Canadians can now legally have abortions.
I remember that I asked my mother what an abortion was, and when she told me, she cried. We are not Catholics. We were not practicing or church-going Christians, but still, my mother cried when she told me about abortions. It reminded her of a time when she had just come from having me, actually. I was premature and in some difficulty at the time, and a woman was there who had just had or was contemplating having an abortion. (So, somehow, it was legal to do this even before the late '80s. Hmmm... I'm now suitably confused.) Anyway, this woman struck up a conversation with my mother and explained how it just wasn't the right time for her to be having a child, so she decided to take this route. My mother was pretty shocked by what seemed to her this very cavalier attitude. Of course, it may not have been cavalier at all, but that's how Mom saw it, and it left an impression on her and later, on me. Still, being a "good little Canadian girl who keeps up with the times and is not an unenlightened and backwards thinker" (TM,) I identified myself as being "pro-choice." I did this throughout high school and into university. It's what you had to do if you wanted to be perceived as an intellectual and modern woman, after all! Of course, my qualification was always that I was pro-choice but that my choice would be never to have an abortion. True pro-choicers would accept this answer, because if there is a choice, there must be two alternatives, and it must be acceptable for a person to take a choice that you might not consider to be the right one. So, I was happy in my little world of wishy-washy fence-sitting. I didn't realize that the fence I was sitting on was made of barbed wire and that it was, in effect, cutting my soul in two while I sat on it.
When I came to this realization was when I had to come to terms with the fact that I had joined a church whose official stance on abortion is that it is murder. I had to sit back and really think about this. For the first time, I was having to puzzle out this idea for myself and really try to come to a thought-out and cogent agreement or disagreement with this stance. I had to really think about whether I really believed that life begins at conception, and in looking at my own unwillingness to consider abortion as an option for me, I realized that I did believe that life begins as soon as egg and sperm have joined. That little miracle (which is in a way against a lot of odds to begin with!) is the beginning and contains in itself all the potential of the child and later the adult. This is my belief, and as such, it cannot only be a belief which remains with me. It can't be true for me and not true for every other human being. I mean, others are free to dispute it, but if I believe it, I must believe it to be true for everyone. It goes to the very nature of humanity really!
One of the main rhetorical arguments I've heard on the Pro-choice cide of things is that women's bodies are their own. I can see why this became an argument. The Catholic Church's encyclical of 1968 pretty-much stated that the child should be preserved at all costs and that a husband has the right to get his wife pregnant as many times as he can even though she may be ill or weakened or sickly. Once conception happens, this document stated, that's it. It's now God's will that the child be carried and hopefully born. Also, it denounced all forms of really effective birth control. I have a problem with this which I'll explain in a moment. However, back to the main point. Are our bodies truly our own to use as we will? If one is a Christian, one would have to say that no, our bodies are not our own. Do they belong to our husbands to do with as they please? No. Wives and husbands must mutually consent both to engage in intercourse and to abstain. So, in what sense then are our bodies not our own?
Every human being was made by God. Every Christian seeks to bring more and more of him or herself into line with God's will, with God's self, actually. Women then have a great responsibility! Nowadays, there are measures one can take to delay the time of getting pregnant, and if a woman feels that she cannot do it at this time, I feel that she should have the right to wait until she can commit emotionally and physically to carrying a child. As far as I know, the Orthodox Church is not so damning of birth control as that encyclical I referred to before. This is all done before conception. No life has begun as yet. However, if a baby begins and is considered to be alive at the time of conception, then abortion by its very nature is murder. One thing which helped me to deal with this belief was that in Orthodoxy, there's no crazy place for babies who are aborted to go. They just go to God and are deemed to be on the same level as the children murdered at Bethlehem by Herod for Jesus's sake. This may sound harsh to our modern minds, but it makes sense if abortion is deemed to be murder. There's no use in sugar-coating it.
Does this then follow that I think the laws sanctioning abortion should be done away with completely and rapidly? I'd love it if this could be done, but it isn't realistic without some major societal changes. We've got to create a society where having babies is more planned than it currently is, and where unplanned babies can be given good homes. If we don't want people to get abortions, we have to find ways to give them more options! There are some populations which statistics say will have a harder time having their babies adopted than others. This has to change! Just doing away with the law may seem like a solution, but all it will do is cause unsafe procedures to be done as they were several years ago. Abortion has been around since man has been alive. Is it right? I believe that it isn't, but if it must exist in a world such as ours, I'd rather see it done with the least amount of harm possible. (And yes, I realize how hollow that sounds to someone who believes as I do that killing a life, any life at any age, is murder.)
You won't find me waving signs outside any clinics. You won't find me showing you pictures of dead babies and asking you to change your mind. However, you will find me expressing the view to which I have come as clearly and unemotionally as I can, and the major crux of that view as that we have a crappy society which needs a lot of changes for abortion to truly be abolished. Till next time!
Deo Gratias!
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Yet More Theophany Thoughts
Benedicamus Domino!
It was pointed out to me today that if I were really going to deal correctly with Theophany in this blog, I should create a third entry in order to symbolize the Trinity which was manifested when Christ was baptized and John the Baptist saw the Spirit descending on Him like a dove and heard the Father's voice identifying Christ as His beloved Son. So, in order to fulfil this most important mathematical necessity, here is my third entry upon this subject.
In church today, the priest preached a sermon which made me think about many comments which I have heard just lately as to what people who have not seen Orthodox Christian worship believe that it seems to accomplish. These comments are not something I take lightly in the least, but they do force me to think about my own beliefs and to reaffirm them for myself if not for anyone else. First though, we'll deal with the sermon itself.
In it, the priest stated that the reason we consider Christ's baptism to be so significant is that through it, He began the work of sanctifying the whole world. By God coming down and touching the waters of the Jordan in a manner which foreshadowed His being buried in a tomb, the waters, and thus all that they fed were reclaimed from their fallen state and once again became sacred. This in itself was a type or a symbol of what God would later do for us by His death and resurrection. He allowed Himself to be baptized as though He needed repentance from sin, and He later allowed Himself to be crucified as though He were a lawless and sinful man, but in both these cases He was not what He seemed. He was God incarnate, and thus, His divinity being brought to these two extremities of humanity sanctified that humanity as well as the whole Christ-created world. Christ-created, did I say? Quite right! For it was Christ who spoke the Father's thought into being before ever the earth rose from the void, but before the earth, and before man himself, there were waters. Water, we believe, is the primal element out of which all life sprang, and as such, it has been considered both the most pure and the least pure of all elements. It is used for the purification of Baptism, but first, it must be blessed. Why is this? Why cannot water simply be considered sacred by its very nature? If Christ has sanctified it once, isn't that enough? Why must we use ritual to do this again and again?
The same may be asked of man. If Christ died for our sins and took away the sin of the world, then why do we continue to examine ourselves and to confess our sins? Why must we repent again and again? First, we have to consider just what Christ was accomplishing in these two connected acts of His baptism and His death and resurrection. Was He baptized simply to institute the rite of baptism for us? Did he do it just so it would get put into the gospels? Did he allow John to baptize Him so He would seem to be a man even though He was more than a man? Did He wish to appear to be a sinner only?
The answer from an Orthodox point of view is an emphatic no! He was and is truly human, but being also Divine, He recognized that the very nature of humanity needed to be sanctified. He endued baptism simply by undergoing it with a new significance. Not only was it a pledge of repentance, but now, it became a renewal of fallen man to his former state. It was also a type of the death He would later undergo.
Now, what about this death? Did He only seem to die? Did He die in order to turn God's wrath from us? Was He the Passover lamb who would cause the avenging angel to pass by some while killing others? Is Christ, in short, the same as the atonement offering which was offered for the entire Hebrew community every year in the Jerusalem temple? What exactly does "dying for our sins" mean?
In one sense, He did take our sin unto Himself, but this was accomplished by the fact that He took on our weakened and fallen condition, that He allowed Himself to become a man. Was His death then an act of stepping in front of God's loaded and already-fired gun? Did He simply take the bullets of God's anger for us? Without Him, would we have been punished by the big sky-thunderer up there?
Firstly, Christ truly died indeed. The manner of His death was ignominious, but this was His condescension, not a method of appeasing God on our behalf. No. He did not die to appease an angry sky-god! He died so that He could go into the land of the dead, (call it Hades if you like) as God just as He had come to earth as a living man. His dead humanity allowed Him to go that journey and thus to free all of the dead there by His own resurrection, so now, our task is to follow his path. We must die to our passions and sins so that we may rise anew in Christlike love and mercy. His death and resurrection was for our salvation, and we call Him our saviour, but He didn't save us from an angry and vicious God by being punished on our behalf! He saved us from ourselves and from the ease with which the devil can attack us in our vulnerable and broken state. He showed us the path to wholeness and to new life!
Here then is the answer to why we perform rituals such as the blessing of waters. We are asking His aid in reclaiming what has been broken just as we ask His mercy to reclaim ourselves from the bondage of sin and death. This is also why we confess to a priest. Someone recently said to me that they didn't understand why confessing to a priest (instead of directly to God or in a corporate way in a congregation) should make us feel anymore guilt-ridden or anymore forgiven. Of course, we're always able to confess our sins directly to God, and in some places I've been, a kind of corporate confession is done, but confessing to a priest or a bishop is something which was instituted just after the major influx of Christians once Christianity was no longer a crime in the Roman empire. Public confession (that is, everyone confessing their sins before the congregation) was common before that time, but it simply became unworkable once numbers of Christians grew, and also it was deemed that some sins of the newly-converted might be scandalous if repeated in public. So, this is where the sacrament or mystery of Confession began.
I know that for me, actually having to put my sin into words out loud is a very humbling experience. if I have to tell someone else that I yelled at a child in anger rather than in reproof or that I had angry thoughts about that child, it's a very humbling thing! It's sometimes rather easy to say to God that we've done these things, because it's harder for us to perceive His actual presence with us, but if we have to say them where another human being can hear us, that's a totally different thing. Do we need a priest to absolve us of our sins? No, but he is a witness of what we say, and the act of Confession is a very concrete and experiencial way in which we can begin to come to terms with our brokenness and can learn to repent and can be healed.
I think this is the key to all the ritual and pageantry in Orthodox worship. We are trying to incarnate, to make alive, a belief which we all hold in our hearts, but we are trying to incarnate that belief so that our bodies and our minds can receive it. Our bodies and minds are rather more sluggish about such things than our hearts and our souls, so they need help. We must be continually reminded of the path we're walking because so many things take our minds away from that path. Liturgical and sacramental ritual is what helps us, as one of our hymns states, to "lay aside all earthly cares" and to attend to Eternity in a more conscious and focused way. God is not some Deistic intellect who set everything going and now simply regards disinterestedly the watch that he has made ticking and turning! No! He is Life itself! His love is all-consuming! It is fire which intends to destroy everything in us which is not fit for His dwelling-place, and from this destruction will come something beautiful and true, something unalloyed and unmixed with impurities! He is the Philosopher's Stone and His love is the crucible which will give us true immortality! However, our brains and our scattered senses know not how to perceive this process going on in us without help: without outward reminders of His grace and mercy. Ritual is the way in which we can experience outwardly what we need to experience in our inner selves, and at the same time, it is the manifestation outward of the inner experiences of many holy (renewed to health) people who created the rituals over time.
So, we bless the waters every year at Theophany because we are both commemorating Christ's baptism in the Jordan and also reaffirming for ourselves that Christ has redeemed all of creation from its fallen state, but also letting ourselves know that this process is spread out for us in time so that we are not overwhelmed but are given the chance to cooperate in it. On one hand, all has been reclaimed by Christ's incarnation with His baptism, death and resurrection. This has happened as far as Eternity is concerned, but we who live in time must be given it in small doses, lest seeing our true brokenness we might utterly despair of healing. This, at least, is the wisdom of those who have walked this path before ever I set my smallest toe upon it, and it is wisdom that I trust because it has borne fruit in my life! So, glory to God for all things, and may He bless the steps of His little ones who have such a long journey still to make!
Deo Gratias!
It was pointed out to me today that if I were really going to deal correctly with Theophany in this blog, I should create a third entry in order to symbolize the Trinity which was manifested when Christ was baptized and John the Baptist saw the Spirit descending on Him like a dove and heard the Father's voice identifying Christ as His beloved Son. So, in order to fulfil this most important mathematical necessity, here is my third entry upon this subject.
In church today, the priest preached a sermon which made me think about many comments which I have heard just lately as to what people who have not seen Orthodox Christian worship believe that it seems to accomplish. These comments are not something I take lightly in the least, but they do force me to think about my own beliefs and to reaffirm them for myself if not for anyone else. First though, we'll deal with the sermon itself.
In it, the priest stated that the reason we consider Christ's baptism to be so significant is that through it, He began the work of sanctifying the whole world. By God coming down and touching the waters of the Jordan in a manner which foreshadowed His being buried in a tomb, the waters, and thus all that they fed were reclaimed from their fallen state and once again became sacred. This in itself was a type or a symbol of what God would later do for us by His death and resurrection. He allowed Himself to be baptized as though He needed repentance from sin, and He later allowed Himself to be crucified as though He were a lawless and sinful man, but in both these cases He was not what He seemed. He was God incarnate, and thus, His divinity being brought to these two extremities of humanity sanctified that humanity as well as the whole Christ-created world. Christ-created, did I say? Quite right! For it was Christ who spoke the Father's thought into being before ever the earth rose from the void, but before the earth, and before man himself, there were waters. Water, we believe, is the primal element out of which all life sprang, and as such, it has been considered both the most pure and the least pure of all elements. It is used for the purification of Baptism, but first, it must be blessed. Why is this? Why cannot water simply be considered sacred by its very nature? If Christ has sanctified it once, isn't that enough? Why must we use ritual to do this again and again?
The same may be asked of man. If Christ died for our sins and took away the sin of the world, then why do we continue to examine ourselves and to confess our sins? Why must we repent again and again? First, we have to consider just what Christ was accomplishing in these two connected acts of His baptism and His death and resurrection. Was He baptized simply to institute the rite of baptism for us? Did he do it just so it would get put into the gospels? Did he allow John to baptize Him so He would seem to be a man even though He was more than a man? Did He wish to appear to be a sinner only?
The answer from an Orthodox point of view is an emphatic no! He was and is truly human, but being also Divine, He recognized that the very nature of humanity needed to be sanctified. He endued baptism simply by undergoing it with a new significance. Not only was it a pledge of repentance, but now, it became a renewal of fallen man to his former state. It was also a type of the death He would later undergo.
Now, what about this death? Did He only seem to die? Did He die in order to turn God's wrath from us? Was He the Passover lamb who would cause the avenging angel to pass by some while killing others? Is Christ, in short, the same as the atonement offering which was offered for the entire Hebrew community every year in the Jerusalem temple? What exactly does "dying for our sins" mean?
In one sense, He did take our sin unto Himself, but this was accomplished by the fact that He took on our weakened and fallen condition, that He allowed Himself to become a man. Was His death then an act of stepping in front of God's loaded and already-fired gun? Did He simply take the bullets of God's anger for us? Without Him, would we have been punished by the big sky-thunderer up there?
Firstly, Christ truly died indeed. The manner of His death was ignominious, but this was His condescension, not a method of appeasing God on our behalf. No. He did not die to appease an angry sky-god! He died so that He could go into the land of the dead, (call it Hades if you like) as God just as He had come to earth as a living man. His dead humanity allowed Him to go that journey and thus to free all of the dead there by His own resurrection, so now, our task is to follow his path. We must die to our passions and sins so that we may rise anew in Christlike love and mercy. His death and resurrection was for our salvation, and we call Him our saviour, but He didn't save us from an angry and vicious God by being punished on our behalf! He saved us from ourselves and from the ease with which the devil can attack us in our vulnerable and broken state. He showed us the path to wholeness and to new life!
Here then is the answer to why we perform rituals such as the blessing of waters. We are asking His aid in reclaiming what has been broken just as we ask His mercy to reclaim ourselves from the bondage of sin and death. This is also why we confess to a priest. Someone recently said to me that they didn't understand why confessing to a priest (instead of directly to God or in a corporate way in a congregation) should make us feel anymore guilt-ridden or anymore forgiven. Of course, we're always able to confess our sins directly to God, and in some places I've been, a kind of corporate confession is done, but confessing to a priest or a bishop is something which was instituted just after the major influx of Christians once Christianity was no longer a crime in the Roman empire. Public confession (that is, everyone confessing their sins before the congregation) was common before that time, but it simply became unworkable once numbers of Christians grew, and also it was deemed that some sins of the newly-converted might be scandalous if repeated in public. So, this is where the sacrament or mystery of Confession began.
I know that for me, actually having to put my sin into words out loud is a very humbling experience. if I have to tell someone else that I yelled at a child in anger rather than in reproof or that I had angry thoughts about that child, it's a very humbling thing! It's sometimes rather easy to say to God that we've done these things, because it's harder for us to perceive His actual presence with us, but if we have to say them where another human being can hear us, that's a totally different thing. Do we need a priest to absolve us of our sins? No, but he is a witness of what we say, and the act of Confession is a very concrete and experiencial way in which we can begin to come to terms with our brokenness and can learn to repent and can be healed.
I think this is the key to all the ritual and pageantry in Orthodox worship. We are trying to incarnate, to make alive, a belief which we all hold in our hearts, but we are trying to incarnate that belief so that our bodies and our minds can receive it. Our bodies and minds are rather more sluggish about such things than our hearts and our souls, so they need help. We must be continually reminded of the path we're walking because so many things take our minds away from that path. Liturgical and sacramental ritual is what helps us, as one of our hymns states, to "lay aside all earthly cares" and to attend to Eternity in a more conscious and focused way. God is not some Deistic intellect who set everything going and now simply regards disinterestedly the watch that he has made ticking and turning! No! He is Life itself! His love is all-consuming! It is fire which intends to destroy everything in us which is not fit for His dwelling-place, and from this destruction will come something beautiful and true, something unalloyed and unmixed with impurities! He is the Philosopher's Stone and His love is the crucible which will give us true immortality! However, our brains and our scattered senses know not how to perceive this process going on in us without help: without outward reminders of His grace and mercy. Ritual is the way in which we can experience outwardly what we need to experience in our inner selves, and at the same time, it is the manifestation outward of the inner experiences of many holy (renewed to health) people who created the rituals over time.
So, we bless the waters every year at Theophany because we are both commemorating Christ's baptism in the Jordan and also reaffirming for ourselves that Christ has redeemed all of creation from its fallen state, but also letting ourselves know that this process is spread out for us in time so that we are not overwhelmed but are given the chance to cooperate in it. On one hand, all has been reclaimed by Christ's incarnation with His baptism, death and resurrection. This has happened as far as Eternity is concerned, but we who live in time must be given it in small doses, lest seeing our true brokenness we might utterly despair of healing. This, at least, is the wisdom of those who have walked this path before ever I set my smallest toe upon it, and it is wisdom that I trust because it has borne fruit in my life! So, glory to God for all things, and may He bless the steps of His little ones who have such a long journey still to make!
Deo Gratias!
Saturday, January 19, 2013
More Theophany Thoughts
Benedicamus Domino!
As this day of Theophany comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on the road which I have walked and which truly began in earnest some six years ago at around this time. This was when the priest at the church which I attend was describing the icon depicting the Theophany of Christ and when I realized that all the fears and questions I had when I left Christianity some years before (if, of course, I had ever truly committed myself to it, that is) were without need and groundless. Here at last did I find truth where before I had felt mired in follies. Here was Christ, not some imitation or some watered-down version of Him, but Christ Himself, who had truly been baptized in the Jordan and had even truly been crucified and had risen again. Here was no emotional outpouring of affection for the "friend we have in Jesus," but a stark yet stirring description of Christ who has made it so that death cannot hold sway over us anymore. Of course, I know I will die one day, but here at last I really began to believe that this life here on earth is not the end. I came to a crossroads that day. Either Christ wasn't real at all, or he was a dead man who had taught a long time ago, or He was the Son of God, and somehow, as my priest talked about the significance of the feast of Theophany, I knew that He was who everyone said He was. I knew it, but I didn't know it in my mind. I didn't know it through deductive or inductive reasoning. I didn't know it through Aquinas-like proofs or through someone quoting Bible verses at me. I knew it because my priest and others at the table were communicating to me, both in their words and in the joy which seemed palpable as they spoke, a living tradition, as though these people were almost as the Apostles had been on that day of Pentecost so long ago when the tongues of fire had sat upon them. I came to know that day the importance of having a living tradition, a link to one's beliefs which is rooted in the heart and not just in the head or in the learning of pages and pages of church history.
The people sharing that table with me on that day were all members of one body who could witness to me and to each other in a common language and via common experience. I was brought to Christ and to Orthodox Christianity not only by books and by my own inclinations, nor even only by the beautiful music and the ritual of the liturgy, but by people, by the faith and joy of people who showed me what it was to be rooted in Christ. They didn't demand that I follow any schedules. They didn't shove pamphlets down my throat. They didn't use any kind of program to get me to join them. Indeed, if I had wanted to be a mere inquirer for these last six years, they would gladly have let me do so. What they did do was tell stories, share customs and traditions, and most importantly, they shared their joy and their courage, their God-given strength and their love. I am where I am today by the prayers of saints, by the love of kindred spirits, by the faithful planting and watering of the seed of faith in my soul of careful and loving gardeners, and by the beauty and grandeur of Christ's own self. Glory to God for all these things and for so much more that He has given me, and a blessed Theophany to all who celebrate it!
Deo Gratias!
As this day of Theophany comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on the road which I have walked and which truly began in earnest some six years ago at around this time. This was when the priest at the church which I attend was describing the icon depicting the Theophany of Christ and when I realized that all the fears and questions I had when I left Christianity some years before (if, of course, I had ever truly committed myself to it, that is) were without need and groundless. Here at last did I find truth where before I had felt mired in follies. Here was Christ, not some imitation or some watered-down version of Him, but Christ Himself, who had truly been baptized in the Jordan and had even truly been crucified and had risen again. Here was no emotional outpouring of affection for the "friend we have in Jesus," but a stark yet stirring description of Christ who has made it so that death cannot hold sway over us anymore. Of course, I know I will die one day, but here at last I really began to believe that this life here on earth is not the end. I came to a crossroads that day. Either Christ wasn't real at all, or he was a dead man who had taught a long time ago, or He was the Son of God, and somehow, as my priest talked about the significance of the feast of Theophany, I knew that He was who everyone said He was. I knew it, but I didn't know it in my mind. I didn't know it through deductive or inductive reasoning. I didn't know it through Aquinas-like proofs or through someone quoting Bible verses at me. I knew it because my priest and others at the table were communicating to me, both in their words and in the joy which seemed palpable as they spoke, a living tradition, as though these people were almost as the Apostles had been on that day of Pentecost so long ago when the tongues of fire had sat upon them. I came to know that day the importance of having a living tradition, a link to one's beliefs which is rooted in the heart and not just in the head or in the learning of pages and pages of church history.
The people sharing that table with me on that day were all members of one body who could witness to me and to each other in a common language and via common experience. I was brought to Christ and to Orthodox Christianity not only by books and by my own inclinations, nor even only by the beautiful music and the ritual of the liturgy, but by people, by the faith and joy of people who showed me what it was to be rooted in Christ. They didn't demand that I follow any schedules. They didn't shove pamphlets down my throat. They didn't use any kind of program to get me to join them. Indeed, if I had wanted to be a mere inquirer for these last six years, they would gladly have let me do so. What they did do was tell stories, share customs and traditions, and most importantly, they shared their joy and their courage, their God-given strength and their love. I am where I am today by the prayers of saints, by the love of kindred spirits, by the faithful planting and watering of the seed of faith in my soul of careful and loving gardeners, and by the beauty and grandeur of Christ's own self. Glory to God for all these things and for so much more that He has given me, and a blessed Theophany to all who celebrate it!
Deo Gratias!
Friday, January 18, 2013
Thoughts upon the Eve of Theophany!
Benedicamus Domino!
Tomorrow, January 6-Julian and January 19-Gregorian, is the day on which the parish to which I belong celebrates Theophany, also called The Feast of Lights. While in the western tradition it is called Epiphany and celebrates the coming of the wise men to adore Christ, Christ's baptism by John in the Jordan and the miracle of the water and the wine at the Wedding at Cana, the East focuses exclusively on Christ's baptism. His baptism in the Jordan and the subsequent manifestation of his divinity by the Spirit's descending on Him as a dove and the Father's voice signifying that He is indeed His Son is the first full revelation of God as Trinity. Also, this is a foreshadowing of how Christ's death and resurrection will sanctify all of creation and give man a way out of his fallen state. Consequently, it is celebrated with both great solemnity and great joy!
My history with this date is rather an interesting one. First of all, it is my half-birthday. We celebrated half-birthdays in my first year of university if a person on our floor had a birthday in the summer, and since then, I've always thought of this day as somehow special, if only in my own mind. Then, it was also the date of a very important right of passage for me: my formal initiation as a Witch. I recall telling a friend when the date would be and her remarking that that was the date of Theophany. It was the first time I'd ever heard that term, and when she described the wonderful traditions of that day, my heart missed a beat. Could there really be a kind of Christianity which honoured creation in such a positive way? Still, my heart was set and my intention firm, and so I was initiated, and I remember that the next day, it was as though all the world was filled with light and life for me. I did truly feel reborn that day! Still, I recall bestowing a thought or two on what my friend had told me, and what she had told me was this.
It is customary, on the day of Theophany, to perform a blessing of waters at a river or some other living and moving body of water. For when Christ was baptized in the Jordan, He sanctified the water by His mere presence. So, on this day, Eastern Orthodox churches perform a blessing of actual living water soas to honour that sanctification of all of creation which Christ accomplished. For me, who was brought up on hymns and preaching, this very experiencial aspect of Christianity had never entered my head, and it was this wondrous and living act which awaited me at the entrance to my current path as an Orthodox Christian.
When I was inquiring into the faith and had not yet taken my first steps as a catechumen, I recall a time when my priest was describing Theophany to us by describing the icon which depicts Christ's baptism. Here was I, fresh from Paganism, and suddenly being told about the one festival which seemed to make sense to my body, mind, heart and soul, and ever since then, I have reverenced this Feast almost on the same level as Easter/Pascha! This, for me, is the feast of my redemption--not a redemption from Paganism exactly, but a redemption from the despair which led me to step away from Christ in the first place. This was the Feast which answered all my questions and doubts, which brought Christ down out of the clouds and directly into contact with myself and all that I sought to somehow honour and to bless in the world around me. Theophany is a Feast I feel very possessive about. It was the doorway, the gateway I needed, but only God knew when and how to present it to me, and I still find it a marvel to think about! Glory to God for all things!
Here, I will present a trinity of poems about the Theophany of Christ. I meant them to function as little word-icons. They are sonnets.
Poems Upon Christ's Baptism in the Jordan
I.
When Thou, O Lord, didst unto Jordan's stream
Betake Thyself in poor and humble guise,
To those who looked on Thee with mortal eyes,
Thou wast like them, a man of low esteem.
Yet, unto one who as a fleeting dream
Did hold all earthly cares, Thou didst arise
As doth the spring vault to the desert skies,
And thus, more fair than any fount doth seem.
As he could see Thy truth, who had no thought
For worldly things, and Witnessed Thee with force
To all who sought release from sin that day,
So may I come to see Thee, who know nought
But dreams which fall to dust. O, keep my course,
My Christ, upon the steep and narrow way!
II.
The depths of Jordan trembled at Thy touch,
As did the baptist when with fear and dread
He took Thy hallowed hand and gently led
Thee forth unto the water's side, in such
A fright to see his Master's sacred head
Now sink beneath the flood, which leapt and fled
Away, lest it should kill Thee with its clutch.
But at the last did John perform Thy will,
Baptizing Thee as Thou didst Him command.
The waters too did honour Thee aright,
And closed themselves upon Thee, standing still
And silent, waiting for the mighty hand
Of God to draw Thee out into His light.
III.
From Jordan's ancient stream didst Thou arise,
As doth the sun from out the misty east
When dawn doth break, and night's dark grasp hath ceased
To hold dominion o'er the earth and skies.
And after Thy fair rising did the eyes
Of all assembled there behold a feast
Of wonders, when from heaven was released
A dove which was the Spirit, true and wise.
It lit on Thee, and then there came a voice
Which called Thee "Son," and thus made manifest
The full and awesome splendour of the King
Of all creation, who by His own choice
Did condescend to dwell on earth as guest
In mortal form, and dedden death's cruel sting.
Deo Gratias!
Tomorrow, January 6-Julian and January 19-Gregorian, is the day on which the parish to which I belong celebrates Theophany, also called The Feast of Lights. While in the western tradition it is called Epiphany and celebrates the coming of the wise men to adore Christ, Christ's baptism by John in the Jordan and the miracle of the water and the wine at the Wedding at Cana, the East focuses exclusively on Christ's baptism. His baptism in the Jordan and the subsequent manifestation of his divinity by the Spirit's descending on Him as a dove and the Father's voice signifying that He is indeed His Son is the first full revelation of God as Trinity. Also, this is a foreshadowing of how Christ's death and resurrection will sanctify all of creation and give man a way out of his fallen state. Consequently, it is celebrated with both great solemnity and great joy!
My history with this date is rather an interesting one. First of all, it is my half-birthday. We celebrated half-birthdays in my first year of university if a person on our floor had a birthday in the summer, and since then, I've always thought of this day as somehow special, if only in my own mind. Then, it was also the date of a very important right of passage for me: my formal initiation as a Witch. I recall telling a friend when the date would be and her remarking that that was the date of Theophany. It was the first time I'd ever heard that term, and when she described the wonderful traditions of that day, my heart missed a beat. Could there really be a kind of Christianity which honoured creation in such a positive way? Still, my heart was set and my intention firm, and so I was initiated, and I remember that the next day, it was as though all the world was filled with light and life for me. I did truly feel reborn that day! Still, I recall bestowing a thought or two on what my friend had told me, and what she had told me was this.
It is customary, on the day of Theophany, to perform a blessing of waters at a river or some other living and moving body of water. For when Christ was baptized in the Jordan, He sanctified the water by His mere presence. So, on this day, Eastern Orthodox churches perform a blessing of actual living water soas to honour that sanctification of all of creation which Christ accomplished. For me, who was brought up on hymns and preaching, this very experiencial aspect of Christianity had never entered my head, and it was this wondrous and living act which awaited me at the entrance to my current path as an Orthodox Christian.
When I was inquiring into the faith and had not yet taken my first steps as a catechumen, I recall a time when my priest was describing Theophany to us by describing the icon which depicts Christ's baptism. Here was I, fresh from Paganism, and suddenly being told about the one festival which seemed to make sense to my body, mind, heart and soul, and ever since then, I have reverenced this Feast almost on the same level as Easter/Pascha! This, for me, is the feast of my redemption--not a redemption from Paganism exactly, but a redemption from the despair which led me to step away from Christ in the first place. This was the Feast which answered all my questions and doubts, which brought Christ down out of the clouds and directly into contact with myself and all that I sought to somehow honour and to bless in the world around me. Theophany is a Feast I feel very possessive about. It was the doorway, the gateway I needed, but only God knew when and how to present it to me, and I still find it a marvel to think about! Glory to God for all things!
Here, I will present a trinity of poems about the Theophany of Christ. I meant them to function as little word-icons. They are sonnets.
Poems Upon Christ's Baptism in the Jordan
I.
When Thou, O Lord, didst unto Jordan's stream
Betake Thyself in poor and humble guise,
To those who looked on Thee with mortal eyes,
Thou wast like them, a man of low esteem.
Yet, unto one who as a fleeting dream
Did hold all earthly cares, Thou didst arise
As doth the spring vault to the desert skies,
And thus, more fair than any fount doth seem.
As he could see Thy truth, who had no thought
For worldly things, and Witnessed Thee with force
To all who sought release from sin that day,
So may I come to see Thee, who know nought
But dreams which fall to dust. O, keep my course,
My Christ, upon the steep and narrow way!
II.
The depths of Jordan trembled at Thy touch,
As did the baptist when with fear and dread
He took Thy hallowed hand and gently led
Thee forth unto the water's side, in such
A fright to see his Master's sacred head
Now sink beneath the flood, which leapt and fled
Away, lest it should kill Thee with its clutch.
But at the last did John perform Thy will,
Baptizing Thee as Thou didst Him command.
The waters too did honour Thee aright,
And closed themselves upon Thee, standing still
And silent, waiting for the mighty hand
Of God to draw Thee out into His light.
III.
From Jordan's ancient stream didst Thou arise,
As doth the sun from out the misty east
When dawn doth break, and night's dark grasp hath ceased
To hold dominion o'er the earth and skies.
And after Thy fair rising did the eyes
Of all assembled there behold a feast
Of wonders, when from heaven was released
A dove which was the Spirit, true and wise.
It lit on Thee, and then there came a voice
Which called Thee "Son," and thus made manifest
The full and awesome splendour of the King
Of all creation, who by His own choice
Did condescend to dwell on earth as guest
In mortal form, and dedden death's cruel sting.
Deo Gratias!
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