Category Archives: church

The universe will not stand still.

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Saint Joanna the Myrrhbearer

It’s not even midmorning as I am beginning to write this post, and already my Name Day has bestowed several particular delights. One of the first was the ability to take an early walk — it seems so easy when all the conditions are right, and somehow that rarely happens anymore. Hmmm…. Note the passive phrase that flows from my mind, referring to a thing that happens, instead of an action I take. But truly, I am always choosing a direction for my heart to follow, moment by moment, as I respond to constant promptings. This morning I felt no prompting from tired bones to stay in bed, and no prompting from the fog to mope — that tipped the balance.

St. Paisios of Mount Athos

Much as I love the church calendar, and the abundance of events and people to remember and celebrate every day, I don’t always keep in sync with it, or the civil calendar for that matter. Others have told me that they also might miss their name day if someone didn’t remember it for them and wish them a “Happy Name Day!”

I received such a prompt pretty early this morning, as it came from Greece. And the next name-day greeter shared a photo of the icon above, which is by the hand of Janet Jaime, a contemporary iconographer who is new to me. The friend who wrote me from Greece included an encouraging article about holy elders and saints whose prophecies have been much discussed of late, an example being St. Paisios.

Christ praying in Gethsemane

I do think about Current Events, of course. I wouldn’t want to close myself off from what my friends are thinking about, and right now I also have a personal reason to keep at least minimally informed, in that one of my own family members is living in the Middle East and very close to the recent action. Still, it’s important to detach from the stream of noise that is the news, for even half a day, or as long as possible. Because each of us has some work God has given us to do, whether washing the morning dishes or praying on your sick bed, managing a busy restaurant or walking across the street to check on a neighbor. We should be present wherever we physically are.

Today another thing “happened” that became a celebration of my name day, which was the long-awaited lunch together that my goddaughter and I have been trying to accomplish for two years. Naturally we had set the time and place, but without either of us realizing that it was the feast day of St. Joanna, until the day arrived. We spent half the afternoon catching up, and didn’t have a spare moment to talk about events outside of our realm of influence.

Father Stephen Freeman’s blog post for today just happened to be perfect for my name day and my mood: “Everything is in Motion”:

“God’s creation (as we should well know) is everywhere in motion. Every object in the universe is moving (further apart we are told). Even the particles of matter that compose so-called stationary objects (such as rocks) are in motion. Nothing is completely at rest.”

“Everything is in motion, and everything has its direction. That direction is its purpose – its reason for existence and reason for continuing in existence. This reason is its logos. The Logos of all logoi (plural), is Christ Himself.

In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God and the Logos was God. All things were made through Him…  (John 1:1)

“Each of us has a purpose and reason for existence. For human beings (and all creation), that purpose is union with God…. We move rightly towards the end for which we were created. Salvation, like all things in God’s creation, is dynamic and not static.”

Fr. Stephen goes on to mention how “dizzying” it can be, to live in the midst of this constant swirl that is our world, and our life. He relates how monasteries on Mount Athos will at times set chandeliers swinging during services, which has been described as “representing the dancing of the angels before God.” We often do this in my parish, with four of the six chandeliers that hold real candles turning and twirling while the flames dance.

When I first experienced this I had no idea I would one day enter the Orthodox Church at that parish. I was sitting on the floor during a Vespers service, having come primarily for a weekend food fair. So much was going on in that space, people coming out and going into the altar, other people bowing before the icons or lighting candles, the choir singing beautifully, and no pause in the hymns of praises going up — that is, a lot of movement! — when my gaze was lifted up to the huge chandelier above me — at that time there being just one — which was being pushed by an altar server in such a way that it began to swing into a wide and majestic arc. I thought at the time, These are serious Christians, to worship so extravagantly.

Over the many years since then, I should have known this tradition was symbolic of something, and not just a random act of jubilation. I found a short video that shows one such otherworldly occasion, where multiple chandeliers are in motion, on the Holy Mountain: The Dance of the Cherubim.

You may find it a little jarring, as I did, when phones and cameras other than the one making that video come into view. But I comforted myself knowing that since the angels are immaterial, they are not able to be seen in person or caught in a video unless they choose to take on a material form. But they are probably too busy doing their work of crying “Holy!”, carrying messages, and dancing, to bother about our devices — at least the material kind.

My day is now coming to an end, and it’s time to bring this post to a full stop. The universe is still in motion, I know, but my rational mind and my fingers will cease moving for a few hours. Thank you, St. Joanna, whose name I bear, for your example in actively following Christ in His earthly life, and for your prayers. Thanks be to God for the many ways I have felt His movement, pulling me in, and giving me the strength and will to respond. It feels very much as though I am in The Dance.

She was planted in the stillness.

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“In the wide stillness of the Alaskan tundra—
where the sky stretches open like a prayer
and the rivers flow between worlds—
God planted a soul full of hidden beauty.”

So the life of St. Olga of Alaska began in 1916, in the village of Kwethluk. The story of her life and how she became a saint is well worth reading here: “Righteous Mother Olga.” 

Services for her glorification this week will be livestreamed: Livestream services

We are having services in celebration at our parish in California as well, joyfully adding her to the company of Orthodox Saints of North America for whom we are so thankful.

Guided by the heavenly light
and touched by Christ’s rich mercy,
thy loving hands heal the wounds
of those hurt in the past.
Thy soft voice encourages all
to remain faithful to God,
for the eternal Lord will give the steadfast
a crown of life.

O holy Mother Olga,
visit us with love and reassure us,
that we may accept whatever cross we must bear
as chosen by the merciful God,
and that, through thy prayers,
we do the will of God
for the salvation of our souls.

-Hymn for the Feast

In the crypt, and in Heaven.

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Saint Demetrios entered the story of my trip to Greece almost at the beginning, and before I end my telling I want to bring him back into it more fully. As I write, I’m still in Greece, but in Athens and on my way home.

The Church that houses the saint’s relics was built on the site of a Roman bath house, believed to have been the place of his imprisonment and death. Emperor Maximian Galerius — yes, the same one who built the Arch and the Rotonda — had appointed young Demetrios proconsul of Thessalonica district, not knowing that he was a Christian.

One of his duties was to put to death Christians, but instead he preached the faith, and was said by some to be a “second Apostle Paul,” for Thessalonica.

When Galerius found out, he ordered his imprisonment, and eventually his death, on October 26, 306. This article tells the story of his life in detail, including subplots concerning his friend Nestor’s martyrdom at the same time, how Demetrios became so beloved of the Slavs, and how he never would allow his relics to be moved to Constantinople.

St. Demetrios mosaic Kiev, 12th century

During the reign of St. Constantine the first church was built on the site, and in later centuries the Christians began using the old bath house structures.

It was during the Ottoman rule when it was a mosque that the underground part became cryptic or “secret,” because whether by their intent or neglect, it was filled with earth and forgotten, until the fire of 1917 that destroyed much of the city; during restoration work on the church the crypt was revealed.

In recent years Orthodox services are often held in the space. I walked up to the church last Friday for Divine Liturgy that was served down there, where so much history is embedded in the stonework and the venerable marble floors.

The day before, the priest at the Church of the Panagia Acheiropoietos had reminded me, over coffee in his office, that there is nowhere on earth that God’s blessing is not present. You might think that He is here in Greece in a way that He is not to be found at the North Pole, for example, but it’s not true.

I have been thinking about that a lot. We Orthodox pray daily to the God Who “is everywhere present, and fills all things.” Also, we experience the eschaton at every Divine Liturgy, when Christ descends to commune with us.

The presence of God has been my experience in Greece, and He will be as immanent as ever back home when I return to the “same old” everlasting mercies of God new every morning. As I embark on my long, long day of travel, I hope I can keep in mind this constancy of grace.

Given the dailiness of our earthly pilgrimage, I can’t be too sad to leave Greece, and at the same time I’m extremely thankful for the short and rich time I’ve had here. Glory to God for all things.

Why Thessaloniki?

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Evening play at Hagia Sophia Church

I’ve written already about how my daughters convinced me to make the trip to Greece with them. They had to limit their travel time to about ten days, but I couldn’t face the thought of returning my poor body to the U.S. after such a short period, while it would still be confused from crossing ten time zones. Besides, being shuffled between multiple airports and airplanes, and spending hours in what are at best unnatural and uncomfortable environments — I wasn’t eager to impose that affliction on myself again so soon. So, my primary motivation to extend my visit was negative.

Acheiropoietos Church, underside of arch

But as soon as I began to consider the possibilities this would open up, the idea became exciting in a positive way, and also a little scary. I hadn’t traveled alone in a foreign country since I was much younger, and even then my youthful advantages didn’t prevent me getting into several problematic situations.

St. David the Tree Dweller, Monastery of St. Theodora

I knew I wouldn’t want to join a group tour, but if I could be in contact with even one helpful person in whatever strange place, that would make the adventure seem more doable.

Thessaloniki was the Greek place name that I had heard the most in the last many years. Orthodox Christians know it as a center of culture and scholarship, and a place of pilgrimage very near to that more famous destination for pilgrims, Mount Athos.

Rubble at Acheiropoietos Church

Travelers to Athos typically pass through Thessaloniki, and if a mixed group of men and women are traveling together in Greece, the women might spend time in the many women’s monasteries near Thessaloniki while the men visit the Holy Mountain, where women are not allowed.

And I had known of several people at my home parish who had visited this city for long periods or studied at Aristotle University, or for other reasons lived in the city, past or present. So, very quickly, my choice of Thessaloniki solidified.

Judas Tree

One friend had encouraged me to include at least two Sundays in the span of my visit, so that I could attend Sunday Divine Liturgy in two different churches. That helped me set the parameters of length of stay.

I really knew very little about the place. The first thing I learned was that St. Demetrios is the patron saint of Thessaloniki, and his relics are here, and I began to ask the saint’s prayers for a successful trip that would bring me to his city and church.

Church of St. Demetrios

It turned out to be easier than I expected to make not just connections but new friends, and to become closer to people I hadn’t known well before. They not only answered my questions beforehand and after I arrived, but they provided hours of good conversation and explanations of Greek history and culture.

You have learned from my recent posts how much more I’ve discovered and experienced here – and I still have more to tell ❤️