This is Life!: Revolutions Around the Cruciform Axis

If It Weren't for These Three Saints, Christianity Would Look a Lot Different

Today is the feast day of our Holy Fathers and Great Hierarchs: BASIL THE GREAT, GREGORY THE THEOLOGIAN and JOHN CHRYSOSTOM

We owe these godly men an incredible debt. Apart from them we would not have a proper understanding of the Trinity. Were it not for them, we would not believe rightly about the Holy Spirit. Were it not for them and their influence, the Nicene Creed would look different. Were it not for them, we would not worship the way we do.

Thank God today for these men. Even if you're an evangelical sola scriptura Christian, you would not have the beliefs you do apart from these men.

This from the Prologue:

THE THREE HIERARCHS: SAINT BASIL THE GREAT, SAINT GREGORY THE THEOLOGIAN AND SAINT JOHN CHRYSOSTOM

Each of these saints have their own feast day. St. Basil the Great, January 1; St. Gregory the Theologian, January 25; and St. John Chrysostom, January 27. This combined feast day, January 30, was instituted in the eleventh century during the reign of Emperor Alexius Comnenus. At one time a debate arose among the people concerning who of the three is the greatest? Some extolled Basil because of his purity and courage; others extolled Gregory for his unequaled depth and lofty mind in theology; still others extolled Chrysostom because of his eloquence and clarity in expounding the Faith. Thus some were called Basilians, others Gregorgians, and the third were called Johannites. This debate was settled by Divine Providence to the benefit of the Church and to an even greater glory of the three saints. Bishop John of Euchaita (June 14) had a vision in a dream: At first, all three of these saints appeared to him separately in great glory and indescribable beauty, and after that all three appeared together. They said to him, "As you see, we are one in God and there is nothing contradictory in us; neither is there a first or a second among us." The saints also advised Bishop John that he write a common service for them and to order a common feast day of celebration. Following this wonderful vision, the debate was settled in this manner: January 30 would be designated as the common feast of these three hierarchs. The Greeks consider this feast not only an ecclesiastical feast but their greatest national school holiday.

And this is from the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese:

This common feast of these three teachers was instituted a little before the year 1100, during the reign of the Emperor Alexis I Comnenus, because of a dispute and strife that arose among the notable and virtuous men of that time. Some of them preferred Basil, while others preferred Gregory, and yet others preferred John Chrysostom, quarreling among themselves over which of the three was the greatest. Furthermore, each party, in order to distinguish itself from the others, assumed the name of its preferred Saint; hence, they called themselves Basilians, Gregorians, or Johannites. Desiring to bring an end to the contention, the three Saints appeared together to the saintly John Mavropous, a monk who had been ordained Bishop of Euchaita, a city of Asia Minor, they revealed to him that the glory they have at the throne of God is equal, and told him to compose a common service for the three of them, which he did with great skill and beauty. Saint John of Euchaita (celebrated Oct. 5) is also the composer of the Canon to the Guardian Angel, the Protector of a Man's Life. In his old age, he retired from his episcopal see and again took up the monastic life in a monastery in Constantinople. He reposed during the reign of the aforementioned Emperor Alexis Comnenus (1081-1118).

Troparion of the Three Great Hierarchs Tone 1
Let all who love their words come together and honour with hymns/ the three luminaries of the light-creating Trinity:
Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian,
and renowned John of golden speech,
who have enlightened the world with the rays of their divine doctrines,
and are mellifluous rivers of wisdom
who have watered all creation with streams of divine knowledge;
they ever intercede with the Trinity for us.

Kontakion of the Three Great Hierarchs Tone 2
Thou hast taken the sacred and divinely inspired heralds,
the crown of Thy teachers, O Lord,
for the enjoyment of Thy blessings and for repose.
For Thou hast accepted their sufferings and labours above every burnt offering,
O Thou Who alone dost glorify Thy Saints.

Fr. Sam Edwards on the Nature of Ecclesial Communion

These remarks of Fr. Samuel Edwards are worthy of some reflection:

The stage is now set for the consideration of the other major Pauline passage which relates to our topic, which begins at 2 Corinthians 10:11. Paul proceeds to ask a series of rhetorical questions which, taken together, give a fairly complete picture of what being in communion signified in the early Church: "Do not be mismated (heterozygountes) with unbelievers. For what partnership (metoche) have righteousness and iniquity? Or what communion (koinonia) has light with darkness? What concord (symphonesis) has Christ with Belial? Or what allotment (meris) has a believer with an unbeliever? What common ground (synkatathesis) has the temple of God with idols?" He then goes on, "For we are the temple of the living God; as God said, 'I will live in them and move among them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. Therefore come out from them, and be separate from them, says the Lord, and touch nothing unclean; then I will welcome you, and I will be a father to you, and you shall be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.'"

The meaning of the six Greek words used here (heterozygountes, metoche, koinonia, symphonesis, meris, and synkatathesis) enable us to form a comprehensive definition of the meaning of communion. It is evident from a close examination of them what is the nature of the koinonia to which Paul refers. . . . It is a marital yoking, a partnership, which enables the participants to share in the life of God communicated through holy things and which stands on the common ground of doctrinal agreement and moral concord. The idea of a community not characterized by this shared standard of faith and moral order would rightly have been regarded as self-contradictory. A group of people who live together but have no common agreement on the nature of reality is not a community, but a voluntary aggregation of individuals formed for the pursuit of essentially individual purposes and ultimately held together only by self-interest or sentiment.

The participation or communion to which koinonia refers before all else is participation in Christ, particularly sacramental participation, communio in sacris, communion in holy things. Only in a secondary, derivative, and dependant sense does it refer to the fellowship or community between those who participate in holy things. Its primary reference is to participation in the life of Christ; participation in one another's lives in a positive sense is possible only to the degree that we first participate in the life of Christ himself. Thus, the contemporary use of the notion of "community" to render this term, involves an inversion of the original priority of meaning.

In the New Testament, the sharing of communion always presupposes common faith. To demonstrate that this is not just a Pauline idea, we need only to turn to the first letter of John. Here he states that, "if we say we have communion (koinonia) with him and walk in the darkness, we lie and are not doing the truth; but if we walk in the light as he is in the light, then we have communion with one another and the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin." (1:5-7)

Fr. Edwards expertly criticizes the present Protestant notion of communion (and notes its sources in nineteenth century German theology). It seems to me that Fr. Edwards is rightly debunking "lowest common denominator" ecumenism for the more meaty (and truthful) koinonia in the Person of Christ. And about that Person there are beliefs one must hold (and live) if one would be truly a follower of the Christ.

Stepping Out in Faith; or, Life Gets Scary

Today, my wife, Anna, gave her two weeks' notice at the public library where she works as a children's librarian. On 7 February she will change from being at work forty or more hours a week, to being at home full-time to care for our daughter.

It went well, though her boss sent out a terse, one-sentence announcement to the library staff. No, "We wish Anna well." No, "We'll miss Anna." Just, "Anna has given her notice that her last day at SPL will be Saturday, February 7th." That was a bit disappointing, but, sadly, not surprising. Her boss has been absolutely inflexible with Anna's schedule; so, in effect, Anna's resignation is her boss' own doing.

Well, sort of. Anna and I both committed to one another when we were still dating that when we got married and had children, if Anna wanted to stay home and care for the little ones, we'd find a way to make it work. Our convictions have only grown in the ensuing decade of our marriage, as we've seen the ravages of our mobile, sex-with-no-consequences, abortion-on-demand, easy-divorce society on these the most defenseless members of our community, the innocent children. We wanted a better world for our own children. A world in which the faith is taught and lived each day. A world in which each day more time was spent with their parents than was spent with the "daycare specialist," the television, or the computer. A world in which children are not sexualized, objectified and turned in to tramps and pimps. A world in which each day their joyous voices could loudly and confidently proclaim:

This is my Father's world,
and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world:
I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father's world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
he shines in all that's fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass;
he speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!

It will be more challenging than we now know. But we are convinced that it will be more than worth it.

Fr. Patrick Reardon: On the Three Senses of the Gospel

Each week, our pastor, Fr. Patrick, puts in the church bulletin his "Father Pat's Pastoral Ponderings." The following is the one from last week. I thought it too good not to share.

January 18, 2004

Second Sunday After Theophany

Father Pat's Pastoral Ponderings

Like Caesar's Gaul, the Christian Gospel is divided into three parts, each theologically identified by the people to whom it is addressed. This division is sequential, involving stages, and all three have to do with membership in the Church.

First, to those outside the Church the Gospel is directed as the announcement of salvation and the summons to repentance. In this context the Gospel is (to translate Hebrews 6:1 quite strictly) "the word of the beginning," *ho tes arches logos*. This is the Gospel as *kerygma*, or announcement, and it deals with such elementary matters as "the foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God, of the doctrine of baptisms, of laying on of hands, of resurrection of the dead, and of eternal judgment" (6:1-2). The process initiated in this stage of the Gospel is the catechumenate, and its sacramental fulfillment is Baptism, "for by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body" (1 Corinthians 12:13).

Second, to those inside the Church the Gospel is directed as *didache*, or doctrine, and *paraklesis*, or exhortation, the summons to "increase and abound in love to one another and to all" (1 Thessalonians 3:12), to "abound in everything-in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in all diligence" (2 Corinthians 8:7), "till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ" (Ephesians 4:12). This is the Gospel as *theologia*, the more intimate knowledge of God from *inside* the house of salvation, the repeated extension of the believer's finger to know the place of the nails. The sacramental fulfillment of this Gospel proclamation is the Holy Eucharist, in which "we, though many, are one bread and one body; for we all partake of that one bread" (1 Corinthians 10:17).

Third, to those who are passing into glory the Gospel is directed as the completion of the Christian life: "Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" (Matthew 25:34). This is the Gospel in its utter fullness, "for now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as also I am known" (1 Corinthians 13:12). And inasmuch as sacraments involve signs and representations, there is no sacramental mode to this proclamation of the Gospel. In this third stage of the Gospel proclamation the Church gathers without the medium of symbols, to chant to the Lamb, "You were slain and have redeemed us to God by Your blood out of every tribe and tongue and people and nation" (Revelation 5:9).

Within the Scriptures we find all three forms of the Gospel, sometimes with respect to exactly the same theme or image. Let us take, for instance, the Good Shepherd.

In the Gospel of Luke, the theme of the Good Shepherd pertains to the first stage of the Gospel, the conversion and return of the sinner. The Good Shepherd here goes after the one sheep that is lost until He finds it, and when He has found it, He lays it on His shoulders rejoicing, and when He comes home, He calls together His friends (Luke 15:4-6). That is to say, He brings the sheep into the Church. This is the Gospel that Ananias preached to Paul: "Arise and be baptized, and wash away your sins, calling on the name of the Lord" (Acts 22:1). Expressed in Baptism, the Gospel's first stage is also the first fulfillment of the prophetic hope expressed by the Psalmist: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul" (Psalm 22 [23]:2-3).

In the Gospel of John, on the other hand, the theme of the Good Shepherd pertains to the Gospel's second stage, the knowledge of God *within* the flock, where "I know My sheep, and am known by My own. . . . My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life" (John 10:14,27-28). This recognition of the Shepherd's voice, calling each of His sheep by name (10:3), is the grace given to Mary Magdalene, for instance. Only when the Shepherd addresses Mary by her own name does she recognize His voice (20:16). This experience describes the life within the Church, where believers daily attend to the modulations of the Shepherd's call. Perfected in the Eucharist, it is the second fulfillment of the prophetic hope expressed by the Psalmist: "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life" (Psalms 22 [23]:5-6).

In the Book of Revelation the theme of the Good Shepherd pertains to the third stage of the Gospel, the realm of eternal glory. Here the Good Shepherd is portrayed as one of the flock, "for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to the living fountains of water" (Revelation 7:17). As the entrance into heaven, this is the final fulfillment of the hope expressed by the Psalmist: "And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever" (Psalms 22 [23]:6).

Zacchaeus Sunday

Yep. It was a shocker to get to Church and to realize today was Zacchaeus Sunday. Theophany and the long season of Pentecost is "over." Next week begins the great Lenten Triodion. And then Great Lent is upon us.

The Healy's have been traveling for almost two months, and thus haven't been to All Saints in some time. It was very good to be back today. One of the women of the church is babysitting Sofie, and our reconnection to normal life and routine through the Church was anchored in the cares and needs of our daughter. (Found out the woman's husband once worked in the same university library, and same department, in which I work part-time.)

Some of the men of the parish will begin meeting on Sunday nights, in a couple of weeks, to read, discuss and pray over St. Theopan the Recluse's The Spiritual Life and How to be Attuned to It. I made arrangements with them. A women's tea is coming up that Anna may go to. And Sofie played hard and loud with the children in the nursery during Sunday School today. We heard them all.

It's been a great weekend. Yesterday, the Healy's got out of bed late. So mom and dad played with Sofie, all of us wrapped up in flannel sheets. Today, the Healy's got home from church and took a long, blessed Sunday afternoon nap beneath those gloriously warm flannel sheets.

Traveling was fun and exciting. But being home and back amid routine is more conducive of holiness, I think.

Glory be to God for all things.

The Fatherhood Chronicles XXVIII

Is this not the essence of incarnate Christmas joy?! Our little girl, Sofie, at four months, for her holiday photos.

What's in your stocking?

Elegance and class at such a young age! (Sigh.)

The Fatherhood Chronicles XXVII

A note of warning before I begin: If you are a feminist who happens to be of the persuasion that not only are men and women equal but interchangeable, then this post will most definitely piss you off. If, however, you are of the more rational feminist stripe and merely assume the equality of men and women, I don't see how this entry will raise your blood pressure at all. And if you are a male (feminist or not), deep down you know that what I'm about to say is one hundred percent true. Admit it.

That being said, I'll pick up at the point this past week (Wednesday evening) when Anna and Sofie turned right around and left by big ol' jet airliner to go be with Anna's sister, Teresa, who is (still) on the verge of giving birth. (She didn't so Anna and Sofie had no choice but to return last night. Keep Teresa and the baby in your prayers.)

So here we were: We'd just gotten in from San Diego the night before. I got up and went to work and taught my two classes. I come home and Anna and Sofie are packed for Texas (via Oklahoma). I had about an hour or so with them, then it was drop them off at the airport and return home. The next four days were spent in somthing like a dysfunctional fog. I went to work. I taught my classes. I arranged the next week's child care. The rest was empty space filled by a bit of reading, some checkbook tabulation, and a lot of movie watching (X2, the three LOTR movies). Though I had picked up a severe cold by the weekend, and was so wiped out on Sunday that I missed the Divine Liturgy, nonetheless, the prospect of picking up my wife and daughter from the airport lent the day some purpose. I rolled out of bed at 8:30 (about three hours late for me), and thought "Twelve hours and the Healy women return to me."

Here's my thesis and main point: We men need women. We need them not so much for propagating the race (though this is a true and enjoyable fact). We need them because they give to our masculine lives the domesticity that is our salvation.

Don't misunderstand. I don't mean to imply that celibate monastics or laymen who just happen never to get married are somehow lesser men or incomplete. Our fulfillment is found ultimately in the Trinity in whose image we have been made.

Nor do I mean that without women, the living quarters of men would be chaotic large-scale petri dishes in which new life forms would be devised. My dad, for one, is an almost obsessive neat freak. (Me? Not so much.)

Nor do I mean that women provide the order to men's lives that they otherwise would lack. No, all-male militia have an established order and discipline that is a wonder to behold. And many type-A men are so regimented that it takes a catastrophe to upend the schedule in their Daytimer.

Rather, I am speaking about domesticity. Domesticity is about fulfillment; the two become one flesh. Domesticity is about neatness and cleanliness (though these are, you understand relative terms). And domesticity is most certainly about order. But it is also so much more than these things.

Domesticity is found, quintessentially, in Ephesians 5:21ff:

[Be filled with the Holy Spirit] submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands. Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church, because we are members of his body. "Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh." This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. However, let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband." (Ephesians 5:21-33 ESV)

What is important to note here, is that for us men, that is to say, for us Christian men, domesticity is a kenotic paradigm. But it is not mere sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice. Rather it is an emptying whose purpose is the sanctification of the women with whom we have been made one flesh, and in and through them, the children that God grants us. Indeed, our paradigm is little less than to be an icon of the relationship of Christ to his Church. When the watching world looks at our marriages, our parenting, do they see christological ecclesiology? Do they think, "Oh, so that's what salvation and the Church is all about?"

I am hardly a model of this paradigm. But through the absence of my little girl and my wife this weekend, it became clear to me that the fulfillment of my manhood is in giving of myself for their holiness. When they were gone, I had, in a sense, lost my vocation. Oh, don't get me wrong. There was that within that thought, "Freedom!" I had lists of books, items for writing, movies to see--and the unfettered time to indulge myself. Instead, there was space and silence. And a reminder. I need my women. Without them, salvation is so much harder to work out.

I rather suppose, mine is not an unusual experience. But the implications are quite clear: the male and female of the species are not interchangeable (you'd flunk biology 101 if you really thought so), and there's a deep design here in these differences. A design cosmic in scope and utterly particular in realization.

More Em Church Reflections

It seems my previous reflection on the "postmodern" embrace of the Em Churchers has gotten some attention I don't normally receive (and probably don't deserve). Reverend Mike offers up some gracious agreement on some points. BeChurch has two entries, here and here. And organic church also offers up some comments.

The comments touch nerves, so I wanted to be clear to the Em Churchers: I did not mean my comments in any way to be taken as mere rhetoric to score some Orthodox points. I meant them quite seriously, and sincerely await responses.

There is a part of my questioning that is also--assuming that I have the right understanding on the matter--meant to serve as a warning to my brothers and sisters who are, like me, in search of the genuine life of Christ in the Church.

When one looks at the history of the relationship between the Church and the surrounding culture, cautionary tales abound.

Though the Constantinian legitimization of the public presence of the Church did much to end the shedding of innocent blood and the ruthless oppression of Christians, the development of monasticism in response gives some credence to the understanding that public legitimization was not without its downside. St. John Chrysostom had much to say to his congregation about allowing the godlessness of the culture to infiltrate the purity of the Body of Christ.

The Pope's seeking after political hegemony during the reign of Charlemagne led, perhaps inevitably, to the abuses and sinful acts of the late medieval papal see and its schism. And, as well, to the Cistercian and Carthusian reforms in Benedictine (that is to say, western) monasticism.

Calvin's Geneva, though a major and important seat of the Reformation, was among the most oppressive states in its enforcement of Reformation doctrine.

In our own day, capitalist consumerism has so infiltrated the churches, that marketing often takes the place of substance. Witness the addition of ^TM to so many of the present day conferences and their jargon.

From the philosophical standpoint, the amalgamation that calls itself "posmodern" (to the extent that it can be spoken of generally) presumes a certain relativity and skepticism that cannot be used uncritically by any of us.

This is not to say that "postmodernist" thought is without benefit. It's focus on the particular, in opposition to the modernist universalizing paradigm, is quite welcome, and can be used to allow Christians a chance in the marketplace of ideas. But "postmodernism" is not, ultimately, fully commensurate with Christian conviction and so to the degree that we fail to utilize it with watchful attentiveness, so much more do we put ourselves and our churches in harm's way. The Episcopal Church, in its search for relevancy to our culture, is perhaps the most explicit example of what happens if we do not critically examine, from the standpoint of faith, the culture in which we live and move.

So, all I'm trying to say to my Em Church brothers and sisters is: be careful, and don't fail to turn the "postmodernist" critique back upon itself.

Ain't No Sunshine (Sorry, Can't Help It)

Well, having come home Tuesday night, Anna and Sofie turned right around and headed out of town yesterday evening, to go be with Anna's sister, Teresa, who is in on the verge of giving birth. Hubby and daddy sits alone in the apartment in front of the keyboard and screen, with Bill Withers on his mind.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
It's not warm when she's away
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And she's always gone too long
Anytime she goes away

Wonder this time where she's gone
Wonder if she's gone to stay
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And this house just ain't no home
Anytime she goes away

Reflections on Liquidity and Ecclesiology

I've been rummaging among some of the Emerging Church, Liquid Church (or other prevailing trademark), websites. I came away sympathetic but unmoved.

Not because I don't think the Em Churchers are sincere, or that they aren't deeply reflecting on mission and ecclesiology, nor that they've succumbed to uber-relevancy. I do believe they are sincere. It is evident that they are reflecting deeply on church and witness. And though I might question their enthusiastic embrace of the mislabeled "postmodern" milieu, they nonetheless appear to be endorsing it in something of a critical way.

I am sympathetic. There is a bunch of silliness in modern Protestantism. Witness the commercialization of the so-called contemporary Christian music scene. There are a bunch of serious abuses. The priestly sexual abuse of young adolescent boys in the Roman Catholic Church and its coverup. The supression of and attempts to obliterate historic Christian doctrines and practices in some mainline churches. There is doubtless the tendency toward, if not full, institutionalization of ecclesiology in all expressions of the Christian faith. One cannot be blamed for looking for a legitimate remedy.

But I am unpersuaded that the rejection of much of historic Christianity by the Em Churchers is as reflective as their embrace of "postmodernity" and of its tenets.

First, though it has become accepted to refer to our era as postmodernity, I am hardpressed to understand how postmodernity is so far removed from modernity as to be able to see that it (postmodernism), indeed, has succeeded modernity. That is to say, the label "post" assumes a vantage point by which to judge that modernity has ended, and something else has taken its place. This isn't just semantics. One of the essential tenets of postmodernity is the locatedness of perceiving and understanding. But if postmodernity is so located, how can it summon the resources from within its own metanarrative to measure its distance from that which it assumes it has replaced?

I don't have a viable alternative, for my own preference in culture labeling (late modernity) assumes a similar ability to discern that modernity's progress and tenure is nearing an end. But this does not eliminate the difficulty of assuming that modernity is over or in its death throes.

Secondly, one of the tenets of postmodernity bought into by the Em Churchers is the primary nature of reality being "liquidity" (or, relativity). Or, more crassly, the only constant is change. A corollary of this tenet is the very same progressivism that modernity asserted. Em Churchers assume that the past is passe, that the past is mostly one of failure and mistake, that the present knows so much more than the past. So an ancient-future church can sift through the Tradition and pick and choose that which it judges to be timeless . . . but it judges this on what grounds? Icons? Yes. The theology of the icon? No. Parts of the liturgy? Absolutely. The whole liturgy? No, because it stifles individual expression. Community? Yes. But the ecclesiology which asserts that there is no salvation outside the Church? No.

But on what grounds does the Em Church make these judgments? How can the Em Church escape the same criticisms it makes of the "modern," "solid" churches? Aren't such judgments as arbitrary and self-justifying as the ones the Em Churchers criticize? If not, why? And if they have a solid and unvarying standard of judgment, doesn't this undercut their claim to fluid morphing?

Nor can the Em Churchers claim that their standard is the Gospel. Not because this claim isn't true on its face. I do assume that they mean to utilize the Gospel as an unvarying standard. But so did/does the historic Church. The question the Em Churchers can't answer is why their judgments should supersede those of the historic Church, because to make such a claim is to undercut their own raison d'etre, to cut off their own legs from underneath them.

I also think, and this is perhaps not as substantive a critique as the ones I've given, though it's no less pertinent, that the Em Churchers' evaluation of the historic Church as institutionalized, non-missionally oriented, culturally irrelevant, and so forth, is far too superficial and doesn't deal adequately with the historical record.

For example, take the criticism of the Divine Liturgy as too rigid, too blind to the meeting of needs, and so forth. This criticism fails to take into account the extremely participatory nature of Orthodox worship, and assumes that established form cannot meet the needs of the present because it cannot change its external appearance to meet the worshipper where he or she is at. But it is precisely the established form that is best able to meet the needs of an ever-changing congregation by its very stability and time-testedness. Though the Em Churchers' promotion of an ever-changing worship form seems self-evidently to meet the needs of an ever-changing congregation, I have yet to see any self-reflection that perhaps a moving target combined with a moving "projectile" makes for doubly improbable contact.

Also, the Em Churchers, coming largely from a Protestant background, fail to take into account the sacramentality of the Divine Liturgy. The Divine Liturgy is not merely a human creation, and this is why it can continue to meet the needs of worshippers throughout the centuries.

But more importantly the Em Churchers make an assumption about worship that they do not seem to have derived from Scripture: that the purpose of worship is to meet needs. Rather, if the purpose of worship is to worship and adore the Trinity, then it seems that the Divine Liturgy follows, especially the attendant sacramental theology. The historical record shows that this, indeed, is what happened. Since the purpose of worship was God-focused, the Liturgy inevitably took a stabilized form, and developed ever more "fancy" expression. Why use gold and costly materials to make the worship accoutrements? Because it was God we are worshipping, and not engaging in a pragmatic spiritual therapy. Why construct special buildings for worship? I concur that on one level it's pragmatic--more converts needed more space. But I rather suppose, given what the historical record says, that it was deemed appropriate to give God his own special place of worship and adoration. A place where his praise and glorification could receive the best of human efforts and gifts.

My hope and prayer is that the Em Churchers' flirting with the historic Church will lead, as it did in my own journey, to an embrace of the historic Church which is alive and well--and meeting needs--today.

How Did I Miss THIS for Christmas?!!

It's Christmas Time

[I'm sorry. Really. Honestly.]

Back, Tired, and Not Really Ready to Hit the Throttle Full Open Tomorrow

We're back. Got in about three hours ago. Unpacked a bit, put the wee one through her nightly routine (bath, massage, story, nursing, prayer), and then to bed.

Newbery winner: Kate DiCamillo's The Tale of Desperaux. There you have it.

Another Sofie first: Boat ride on the Pacific ocean (heck, first boat ride, period), and first whale-watching trip. We did end up seeing about three or four grey whales (thanks, JamesOTN), some Pacific dolphins, a small herd of lazing sea lions on a buoy, and miles and miles of wide-open ocean. Sofie? Slept through it all.

Sofie's plane ride back was almost a repeat of the trip out, but she did wake up about three-fourths of the way home, and so was awake for the last part of the flight and the landing.

I got into it with the taxi driver outside our apartment. I was so irritated I didn't tip him. Must have been why he didn't get out of the cab to help with the bags. Argh.

In non-trip news: A few minutes ago I got a call from Anna's sister, Jessi. Her other sister, Teresa, is pregnant and apparently is having contractions about five minutes apart. I've got to write a quiz for one of my classes tomorrow, so I'm standing by the phones. Would appreciate your prayers for a safe delivery (though given her history, by the time many of you read this, she'll have delivered).

Our Trip to Cali is Almost Over

I've been Mr. Nanny for this trip to San Diego, and the American Library Association's Midwinter meeting. Anna serves on the Newbery Medal Award Committee and this is their final meeting before passing the baton this summer to the next group. At this meeting they have decided which book will get the Newbery Award and which book(s) will get the Newbery Honor (sort of like runner-up). Of course, being the outstanding moral people that we are, my wife has refused to tell me who has won (dang!). But the press conference is to occur here within the hour and so we'll know soon enough.

Some trip highlights:

1. Sofie's first airplane ride: Slept right through it.

2. The Healy's first trip to the San Diego Zoo: Way cool! We got to see the new baby panda. Who, coincidentally, was born four days after Sofie and is as long and weighs as much as our daughter. We got cute pics of the little bugger sleeping. Awwwww.

3. Clifton lost his cell phone: (Insert profuse cursing and foreheading-slapping here.) Yep. Apparently it came off my waistband, where I'd had it clipped, in the taxi I was riding in. And we'd just gotten the free upgrade. I'd had the phone for, like, three days. Sheesh.

4. Took the trolley tour to Coronado and Old Town. Went to the Hotel Del Coronado and had lunch. Got pictures of the beach. Another Sofie first: Went to the Pacific Ocean. Leaving the Hotel and heading back to the trolley stop, saw the President of Chile's motorcade go by. Also saw a traffic stop turn into an arrest and search of the car (drugs?). Old Town was completely touristy. Oh well. What should I have expected.

5. Got a free reviewer's copy of Andrew Clements' new book, The Report Card, and have already read it. It's pretty good. I love this children's author. If you haven't read his book Frindle, run (do not walk) to your local library's children's department and check it out. You will cry at the end (for joy). His The School Story is pretty good, too.

In other news, picked up a cheap pipe and some aromatic tobacco to smoke on our hotel balcony. (I knew I should have brought mine from home.)

Later today we'll do the whale-watching tour and see the humpbacks (grey whales?) do their migrating thing. This will be another first for Sofie.

More blogging when I get back.

What Home Does to You

The trip home to see our families has had a profound impact on me, or so it seems as the days following our return to Chicago have unfolded. Perhaps it's the time of transition already underway with a new year, a new semester, Anna's soon-to-be-realized embrace of her God-given vocation. Or all of it together.

I just find myself interested in and focused on different things.

My following of the Anglican schism has effectively postponed the reality of my having left ECUSA long ago. And, frankly, has been a waste of time.

I'm not even interested in current events like I normally am. The presidential politics and upcoming primaries are something I'm usually a junkie about. Yawn. While I usually enjoy faithful Christian reflection on and critique of present-day culture, now I'm just tired of the distraction. Blah.

I could go on.

Being home these past couple of weeks got me in touch with the bedrock realities that sustain life and faith: parents, siblings, extended family, day-in/day-out earning a living, some prayer, some faithful living, new babies to keep the particular embodiment of all our lives going. I miss my family terribly. Does it really matter, my getting my PhD? Not when you compare it to holding on to my nephew, Jacob, or cuddling my niece, Reagan, or teasing my other nieces, Cassidy and Baileigh. Does it really matter that some self-proclaimed Anglican "inclusivist" expertly uses doublespeak to exclude those hated traditionalists? Not when a new mommy and daddy each and every night hold and caress their infant daughter while praying the Lord's Prayer. Not when this daughter will grow up in the Faith once for all delivered to the saints, and will know the smarmy church politico for what he is.

All my current life activities and interests could go hang, so long as there were family there to sit and sip a soda with and catch up on the gossip. So long as there were toddlers and infants exploding with new life and energy. So long as a young family could look out across windswept Kansas plains, or up at a clear Oklahoma sky, and rejoice in the God who had made these things and bridged the gap between us and him with flesh and bone and blood.

Sometimes the contemplation of these things is so sweet it leaves an ineffable disturbance in the soul, a joyful sorrow, a graceful melancholy. For the blessedness that you can taste in the slobbery kisses of your infant daughter is only a foretaste. . . just a foretaste, and not yet the full reality.

No wonder creation groans and waits. And so do I. So do I.

Notable Books of 2003 (from my reading list)

I read twenty-six fewer books in 2003 than in 2002. Guess that's what a new baby will do to you.

Among the notable reads:

1. Hieromonk Damascene Christenson, Not of This World and Father Seraphim Rose: His Life and Works. I actually began reading the original version of St. Seraphim's biography in the fall of 2002. But it was piece-meal at best, and I took it up with more fervor at the beginning of this year. The revised biography is light years better. If you want to see the process of the making of an American Orthodox saint, read Father Seraphim Rose.

2. St. Theophan the Recluse, Unseen Warfare. This book was the primary text for my Lenten reading. St. Theophan actually revised an earlier revision done by St. Nikodemos of Mt. Athos on an Italian Roman Catholic book. It is an amazing spiritual read. St. Theopan's insights into the inner struggle of faith is among the best. And the healthy introduction giving the history and theology of the book is similarly helpful.

3. George H. Nash, The Conservative Intellectual Movement since 1945. Though self-described liberals and other general cynics may scoff at the title, the book is incredibly interesting. It discusses the thoughts, ideas and impact of such men as Richard Weaver, Russell Kirk, William F. Buckley, Jr., Whitaker Chambers, et al. If you thought you knew what opponents call "the radical right," think again. (Note: Lee Edwards' The Conservative Revolution touches on some of the same luminaries, but focuses on the political sphere.)

4. Annie Dillard, Holy the Firm. I've actually read this book many times before. But earlier in the spring, I came across a first edition hardcover at a local used bookstore. It's a brief (about 80 pages) account of a weekend Ms. Dillard spent on an island in Puget Sound. If you ever want to see what good incarnational theology is about, read this book.

5. Christos Yannaros, Freedom of Morality. With Metropolitan Zizioulos' Being as Communion and Panayiotis Nellas' Deification in Christ, Yannaros' work highlights how human ethical behavior flows from the Trinitarian image in which we have been made. These three books alone have been fundamental in my shift of theological thinking toward the patristics and the Tradition.

6. Fr. Seraphim Rose, Genesis, Creation, and Early Man. This is a posthumous collection of St. Seraphim's writings (and transcribed talks) on Genesis, anthropology, cosmology and the relation between faith and science. The patristic commentary on Genesis 1-12 alone is worth the price of the book.

There were many more good books that I read, but these were among the most important.

There is one regretted read from 2003:
Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins, Armageddon. This is the penultimate book in the "Left Behind" series, and since I'd read all the others a couple of years ago, I couldn't help but slog through this one. (And by the way, my regretted read for this year will be the final book in the series.)

A Project of Faithful Thinking V

Christian Foundations for Faithful Thinking: Knowledge is Love

I have argued that all Christian thought is based on and comes from the reality of a Trinitarian God. Because the foundation of all reality is the Trinity, then knowing and truth are hypostatic koinonia. Furthermore, Truth is Personal because it is a Person. And if these premises are true, then it follows that true knowledge is love.

If knowledge is love, then the dichotomy between experiential knowledge and intellectual knowledge is resolved. The two are simply different expressions of the same reality. Nowhere is this is brought out more clearly than in the biblical euphemism for sexual intercourse: "knowing." Knowledge is deeply personal and experiential, but it involves the mind as well, as such experience is articulated and systematized. But so, too, is the intellect formative of experiential knowing as our experience is filtered through pre-existent cognitive grids. If knowing is loving, then Truth lives thoughtfully.

Love as knowledge, and knowledge as love also collapses the divide between kataphatic and apophatic discourse. It is true that God's essential being cannot be comprehended by the human mind (apophatic), and thus we are forced to speak of God as "not being" this or that. But because of God's love for us, and our love for him, we can come to experience the positive (kataphatic) reality of his gracious energies. We can say, positively, that God is love. But we cannot say, love is God. We are bounded by our human fallenness on one hand, and set free through theosis on the other. If knowing is loving, then Truth is revealed in the experience of mystery.

If knowledge is love, then Truth is allowed to transcend reason. As Kant so ably showed, the chief gift of reason is its critical nature. Reason can speak kataphatically only if it remains within its apophatic limits. Love causes reason to be ordered to investigation and reins in its exploration so that reason is both critical and faithful. If given full rein, reason devours itself through skepticism. But when united by love to the Person of Truth, reason allows Christian thought to be faithful.

Having explored these few foundational elements of Christian thinking, we are now ready to build on that foundation and trace some important implications for faithful thought.

[Next: Building on Christian Foundations for Faithful Thinking: Tracing the Implications]

Chicago Orthodox Wannabe Succumbs to Hair-terodoxy

Chicago (Silliness Cubed Press)--In a disturbing turn of events, today, a local self-described "Orthodox wannabe" trimmed three months' of faithful beard growth. Clifton Healy, age 36, said of his ordeal, "I know trimming one's beard is giving way to the passions, but, really, my daughter was pulling the heck out of it!"

According to Healy, the onslaught of temptation began to occur a few weeks ago when, as he describes it, his daughter, Sofie, age four and a half months, "grabbed and pulled on anything she could reach." While he faithfully resisted the urge to trim his beard, soon the painful irritation of an unforeseen yank began to war with his determination to remain faithfully bearded. "I know I'm supposed to utilize these trials to mortify the flesh," said Healy, "but there's only so much a guy can take!" According to Healy, the yank on the chin-hairs was entirely bearable. But it was when Sofie pulled on the hairs just along the jawline, "Wow. I mean, that really smarts! The length just had to go." And he added, "Besides, I haven't been chrismated yet, anyway. I can still make a confession later."

While Healy has retained the full beard, it has been trimmed to a hair-terodox, non-infant-grabbing length. According to Healy, his wife of ten years, Anna, is relieved. "Although I admire his willingness to pursue hairy-faced orthodoxy," conceded Mrs. Healy, "he was starting to look like a scary-man."

News of Healy's fall to hair-terodoxy has yet to reach the faithful, but there are bound to be condemnations on all sides. The faithfully bearded are sure to chastise Healy for his weak will, bound by fleshly infirmities. According to some unnamed sources, there is talk of anathematization. "Is outrage!" shouted one top official among the hairy-faced. On the other hand, unconfirmed reports among the hair-etics indicate that hair-esiarch, Karl the Smooth, and his disciple, John of the Naked Chin, have prepared an as-yet unpublished press release taunting Healy for failing to, as they put it, "go smooth."

[With a nod to The Onion Dome for the inspiration.]

Wichita, Kansas ECUSA parish becomes Orthodox

An interesting news item from my hometown.

About 40 members of an Episcopal church in east Wichita have established a new congregation within the Orthodox Church, citing their disapproval of the "decidedly liberal drift" of the Episcopal Church in recent years.

The Rev. John Flora, 57, retired rector of St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, will lead the new congregation, which will begin worshipping at St. George's Orthodox Christian Cathedral in Wichita at 10 a.m. on Sunday.

Flora said he and the group of former St. Stephen's parishioners have grown frustrated with the Episcopal Church, including its approval of its first openly gay bishop in August.

"When I found the Episcopal Church in college, I really believed I had found something that was connected to the ancient church and was going to remain steadfast," Flora said.

"But my experience in the past 31 years as a priest is, there's been a slippery slide into theological relativism, and that's not where I'm at."

Officials with the Episcopal Diocese of Kansas, including Bishop Dean Wolfe, were out of town for the holidays and could not be reached for comment. . . .

Interestingly, the new church will not use the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, but the revised Gregorian Litugy of St. Tikhon.

The new church, St. Michael the Archangel Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church, will be the first Western Rite Orthodox parish in Kansas. It will join a growing number of Orthodox congregations that use a Western form for their liturgy, rather than the more characteristic Byzantine Rite. . . .

Leaving the 2.4 million-member Episcopal Church was "a real hard decision," Flora said, "but one I felt I had to make."

Other parishioners planning to join Flora agreed.

"This has nothing to do with St. Stephen's itself. It has everything to do with the Episcopal Church USA," said Bill Anderson, head of the St. Michael parish council.

"My belief is that we have not left the Episcopal Church; it has left us," he said. "This is not a decision we took lightly, nor is it something that just happened."

And to think, I just missed it. We came home Friday. If we'd stayed a couple of extra days, I could have been there.

On New Year's Resolutions

I have long been one for New Year's resolutions. In fact, from 1988, at the midpoint of my sophomore year at a private Christian college, through the start of 1999, I had scrupulously engaged in year-end review and resolution-making. Since the end of 1999, however, I have not done any but the most general of mental resolutions. There are a few reasons for that.

First, of all, most of my resoution-making energy came from being caught up in the "daily-planner" (Daytimer, FranklinCovey) mindset. When I need to be, I can be very disciplined, and the use of a daily-planner proved increasingly helpful up until I moved here to Chicago. Through planning and using action-item lists, I was able to work full-time, move from central Illinois to Baton Rouge, find two new full-time jobs (in succession) and undergo two weeks and a month and a half of management training, respectively, complete my master's thesis (with oral examination by phone) in eight months and teach myself Latin. But once I left the telecom management field to pursue ordination and a doctoral program, I had hit daily-planner burnout. I continued to use a planner (and still do), but with much less discipline.

Second, since spring of 2000, the complexity of my vocational, educational and family decisions became more complex than could be put to a list of action-items. The "flow charts" would have branched exponentially as each attendant consequence would have resulted in multiple considerations. And many of these consequences were unforeseen: namely, my leaving the ordination process, and ECUSA, altogether. Trying to implement New Year's resolutions in such a state of continual fluidity involved much more time and energy than simply abiding by my principles and attempting to head in the general direction we'd decided on before coming here. The use of a daily planner largely became a matter of a glorified to-do list in a multi-ring binder with pretty paper.

Finally, you can't program God or reduce him to a daily planner schedule. The one verse which has guided me through all my New Year's resolution activities is from Proverbs: "Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand." (Proverbs 19:21 ESV). These past four years have not been merely planning and programming a career with attendant changes matching changed circumstances (and changes of mind). Rather, these past four years have been primarily a concentrated effort of listening for the vocation of God. I had thought God was calling me to the priesthood in ECUSA. But in reality he brought me to Chicago to show me he was calling me out of ECUSA into Orthodoxy, out of a clerical vocation, to one of layman and professor. Neither of these would have figured into New Year's resolutions in 2000, 2001, and only provisionally in 2002 (though they became much clearer this past year).

These have been excruciatingly painful and difficult years here in Chicago (and in looking back on some of my journal entries, I noted that 2001, our second year in Chicago, was exceeded in pain and difficulty only by 1996, when we left the ministry at Greenview). But out of these challenging times, great joy and blessings have already begun to come. I finally found the Church for which I had been searching since 1990. My wife has gone from being vociferously opposed to Orthodoxy, to being open to strong involvement in the local Orthodox parish we now attend together. I escaped what could only have been much heartache and moral compromise by leaving behind my quest for ordination in ECUSA and have been enriched by the life of faith and practice available to all in the Orthodox Church. I have embraced and been affirmed in my chosen profession of teaching (philosophy, and, perhaps, theology), and in my writing. And I have met and made wonderful Christian friends. (Here's God's funny bone: all these friends have attended/are attending the ECUSAn seminary by which I was once repulsed and angered.)

So, in talking about all these New Year's resolutions, and the not making of any, am I returning to my former practice? Yes. But not in quite as disciplined (or anal retentive) a way as previously. I will coalesce my thoughts on what I need to accomplish or would like to accomplish this year, submit them to prayer, and focus on doing them.

What are my resolutions? Well, perhaps they can be summarized in this way: "For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead" (James 2:26 ESV). In other words, this year action will take the focus. Thought and contemplation will never be discarded, but this year thought and contemplation must find their fulfillment in acts.