Theology & Philosophy – The Laughing Wolf

Pilgrimage: Food Favorites

I had a lot of good food while on pilgrimage; but, a few stand out above the rest. Today, I’m going to share a few with you starting with Sofia and then two in Thessaloniki.

Cafe 1920 (Maria Luiza 60, Lavov Most, Sofia, BG 1202) is located near the Lion’s Bridge and does very good breakfasts along with some other fare for the brunch/lunch crowd. It is usually packed at opening, though the afternoons tend not to be as crowded. They also have a bloody mary that I would rate as one of the five best I’ve had anywhere in the world. It is not spiced anywhere close to a typical American bloody mary, which is good thing IMO, and the spices reflect Bulgarian culinary culture. Good service, and it is also a good spot for simply people watching. Alas, their website is FB, and I won’t link to that.

Which reminds me that I need to note that the wait staff in most restaurants and such in Bulgaria tend not to fawn over people. Some people see it as stand-offish or that they are ignoring you, which is not the case. They simply don’t try to rush people for turnover purposes and as long as you seem content they won’t bother you. The idea is for you to relax and enjoy the meal, and signal if you have a need. I found it rather pleasant, and a welcome change.

Very good pizza is to be found at Caruso Pizza (52 Georgi S Rakovski Street, Sofia 1202). It’s a small shop, with a table on the sidewalk, primarily focusing on take out. They have a good menu and everything I tried there was good. Give it a try.

My favorite bakery in Sofia is Hle Bar (Oboriste Str, 16, Sofia 1504 Bulgaria). Loved their bread, they had very good savory banitsa, and good coffee. They are also a small grocery and their house wine is decent. They are not too far from Sofia University and the Cathedral, just down the street from the French ambassador’s residence.

My favorite traditional Bulgarian restaurant is Manastirska Magernitsa (Monastery Magernitsa, 67 Khan Asparouh Str., Sofia, BG 1000). A friend at the church I was attending in Sofia recommended them, and I’m glad he did. The menu is extensive and even features a page of vegetarian dishes from historic Bulgarian monasteries. To be honest, with the weather being as nice as it was, I enjoyed dining in the courtyard rather than the historically furnished and very nice interior. If you are looking for traditional dishes done well, this is the place to start.

In Thessaloniki, allow me to recommend Katsamaka (18 Athonos, Thessaloniki 546 33). I smelled the delicious odors coming from it as I was walking to a church, did a double-take, then followed them to the source. One look at the meat roasting and I knew where I was eating dinner latter. Had I more time in Thessaloniki I would have eaten there more than once.

The other place I will recommend in Thessaloniki is not my usual forte. I love sweets, but try to stay away from them. I’m so glad I didn’t when it came to trying trigona panoramatos, and also very glad I had it at Trigona Elenidi at at their location near the White Tower (Dim. Gounari 13, Thessaloniki 546 22). Trigona is their specialty, and they do this traditional dessert right. You will have sticky fingers after eating the delicious cream/custard filled cone, but that’s part of the fun. Besides, if you’ve been walking all over Thessaloniki, you deserve a sweet treat.

Those are my top recommendations, and there are a lot of honorable mentions. There is a lot of good food in Sofia and Thessaloniki, but this list will get you off to a good start with any culinary explorations you want to do. Enjoy.

Please check out my Summer Bleg.

Getting hit by lightning is not fun! It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. If you would like to help me with seminary courses, pilgrimages, and more, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. There is also the Amazon Wish List in the Bard’s Jar. Thank you.

How Did I Get To This Point, Part I

As I share my journey on the greater pilgrimage that is now my life, I thought it would be good to share a bit about my background. A nice gentleman over on X asked me about it and we’ve chatted a small bit about our respective journeys. It’s been good for both of us, and I decided that sharing some of that here would be a good thing.

Before I go any further, I remind you that I am not a theologian, or a priest. What I share is not definitive: it is simply what I have learned and/or think at the time. As I continue to learn (and I hope to do so up until the last moment of this life) my thoughts may change or mature as new information is presented. I not only want to share the good things; but, also, some of the mistakes so that others might avoid and/or learn from them.

As regular readers know, I was not born into Orthodox Christianity. I am a convert who is working to learn more about my faith. Part of doing so means understanding where I came from religiously, as that shapes some of my thoughts as well as previous impressions of Orthodoxy. The fact is, I had a bad impression of Orthodoxy as a child, having been told that it was backwards and a “mean” religion (possibly even a cult). Now, who told me that, or heavily implied it, is something I don’t remember — though I do have some suspicions.

I was born and raised in a Methodist family. Mom was Very Methodist, while Dad had converted from the Baptist church when he married my mother (I think). In some respects, my Dad was not an overtly religious man. He had Faith, but didn’t flash it around and was, on occasion, more than happy to skip church on Sundays. He was very much a “pray in the closet” man.

My mother, on the other hand, was the one who insisted on appearances and being seen in church on Sundays. When I say she was Very Methodist, her family had been a part of the Methodist church for generations. She was very proud of the fact that we were direct descendants of George Foster Pierce and his father Lovick Pierce, who really built a lot of the Southern Methodist Church and helped found Wesleyan College in Macon. George was, in fact, served as Bishop in the church. There were portraits and pictures of them in our house when I grew up, some of which were donated to the museum at Epworth.

For all that we attended church almost every Sunday, and said a blessing before each meal, religion was not really a part of everyday life as I remember it. When I was young I did vacation Bible school and such, but there were no regular prayers or other activities within the home. Faith was there, but it was quiet and not something for public consumption. We had our Faith and belief in God, but it was not broadcast. In looking back, I suppose part of that was because of the old societal norm of not bringing up politics or religion in public. My uncle James was a local elected official (and National Commander of the American Legion at one point) and when socializing one took care not to cause a scene.

Mom was very proud of our heritage, which also included various kings and other notables, including a lot of preachers. She was an accomplished genealogist, and while it was a hobby she received a number of accolades from various societies for her meticulous work and multiple legal proofs for each step. As a kid, I was much more interested in the cattle thieves and the man disowned for being a playboy than in the preachers. I enjoyed that my Scottish ancestors included not only cattle thieves but that I was a direct descendant of Duncan who was slain by the traitor MacBeth, or that through my Dad, Charlemagne. Dad and I donated all her work to the Ellen Payne Odom library so it wasn’t lost.

My mother was also very into the idea that the family would rejoin high society. The interactions we had with high society did not give me a high opinion of the people involved. As an aside, the more I have met of many members of high society, that opinion has lowered. I do believe my Dad shared my opinion, as for all that he had been a farmer and then a farm supply salesman, he had been introduced to high society in Washington DC during his first hitch in the Marines and his family had also enjoyed some high-level contacts with senators and such before the Great Depression.

Now, one other factor in this part of my background is that I was a sickly child, having been born allergic to almost everything. It took years of shots, three times a week, to get it down to a manageable level. Add to it that I wasn’t the most coordinated and graceful person, and it meant I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. It also didn’t help that my mother was constantly reminding me that without her I would die and if not for her I would already be dead. She was unhealthily obsessed with me, my life, and her plans for my life. Being a Boy Scout and getting away every now and then, did wonders for me. I just hate seeing what Scouting has become, btw. So glad I was an old-way Eagle, and even earned a few other awards.

So, parts of my childhood were idylic, and parts were a nightmare. Sadly, probably about average in some respects. There are some things from the nightmare side that I will not share here yet; but, the wounds to my soul from them are the cause of some of my hardest struggles in this new life so they need to be acknowledged.

Much of my early learning of theology and related goes to two particular preachers: Reverend Wilson and Reverend Key. Reverend Wilson was a quiet, gentle man who had a deep faith and a solid knowledge of Methodist dogmatics. He taught me the basics, and did his best to handle some of my most interesting ideas and suggestions. I remember not being particularly happy as a very young child with his response to my question about if animals could go to heaven, and his patience with me. I also think he was the one who had to deal with my suggestion that if we wanted Christ back now, why not take communion, spit it out when the grape juice and crackers became the body and blood of Christ, and then put all the pieces back together. My mind always has gone in interesting directions… Reverend Key was, in my opinion, one of the finest theologians in Methodist history. He had a sharp mind, and he really did shape a lot of my early beliefs. I was sorry when his time at our church was up.

I’m not sure of the progression in terms of who came and went, but somewhere around my junior year of high school, we got a preacher who caused me to leave the Methodist church. I got the impression he wanted to become a major tele-evangelist and our church to become a mega-church. My beef with him came when he refused to go see my grandmother as she was dying because she had no money to leave the church. He flat out said so to my mother — and I’m amazed to this day that she did not kill him on the spot. Think she was too, and said later she was so stunned she just stood there.

As for me, I left the Methodist church for the Episcopal. That’s a story for another day. If you have questions about this part, ask away and if I can answer I will. There are a few things I can’t share, and if I can’t I will tell you so and also do my best to tell you why I can’t answer.

More soon.

Please check out my Summer Bleg.

Diocesan Conference

I appreciate your patience with the lack of posting. Between the unexpected passing of Mother M and attending our Diocesan Conference outside of Chicago, it was a busy week. I rode up with our priest and deacon, and it was interesting doing sixth hour at noon while on the highway. I do have to wonder what the other drivers thought when they saw us chanting and crossing ourselves in unison on a frequent basis as we traveled the interstate. On the way home we did the post-Eucharist prayers. Does help make the trip seem faster.

The picture above is from one of the services during the convention. The rest of the conference wasn’t terribly photogenic as it was focused on the business-side of our real job: sharing and spreading Orthodoxy. I learned a small bit about how things work; and, more importantly, met more of the people who do that work. When my church hosted the event two or three years ago, I was in the kitchen all weekend helping prepare the meals and didn’t really get to attend any of the meeting or really meet people.

I made up for that this weekend. I met a number of truly wonderful people, and enjoyed my time at our host church. Our diocese covers the U.S., Canada, and Australia. Sadly, it is rare that anyone from Australia attends, but we do get to see some of our Canadian brothers and sisters. I also found out this weekend that we now have a Bulgarian monastery here in the U.S. I need to go visit it one day soon.

There is no earth-shaking personal news to share. My priest and I did talk with our Metropolitan briefly, and he shared some things he wants me to do as part of my first steps on this new journey. Therefore I plan to do my best to go get them done.

I’m going to embed two short videos below, that I shot trying to capture some of the Byzantine chanting at the Matins service before Liturgy Sunday morning. The scratch choir, which was mostly priests and a couple of monks, was amazingly good and these clips don’t really do them justice. I’m a bit in awe of two of the priests who had magnificent deep bass voices and knew how to get the most out of them.

More soon!

Please check out my Summer Bleg.

Today I Turn 5

Today, I am five-years-old. No joke. My life ended five years ago.

You see, today is my “Alive Day.” Among the mil-community, there is a concept that your Alive Day is the day that, but for the Grace of God, you should have died. It’s possible to have more than one Alive Day, and in fact I’m one of those who does have more than one.

In fact, if you hang around a number of the military/veteran blogs, you will see comments to posts like this one with someone grumping that they have several alive days. It is a sad bit of chest-thumping, but it is chest-thumping that can serve some good by getting all of us to sit down and give thanks for all the times God has spared our lives.

But, there is always that one big one. The one that truly ended your previous life and left you starting a new one. Sometimes radically so, as you face TBI and cognitive issues, loss of limbs or chunks, paralysis, etc. Sometimes it is more subtle: I knew someone in college who was in a car wreck, and was a totally different person afterwards. Radical personality change is a polite and understated description.

Five years ago today, at roughly 0445 hours, the life I had ended. A bolt of lightning hit a tree just off the porch where I was drinking coffee and reading the news. The doctors who have treated me since still have academic debates about what happened. The best/most likely scenario, worked out with those who actually work with the patients and one doctor who specializes in treating lightning strike and high-voltage electrical shock survivors, is that I did take a direct hit just behind my right ear plus got a load of inductance.

The good thing was, the right side took the brunt of things and the flow through my body. It exited my right foot via the ball of the foot (podiatrist was unsurprised at that), melted through my shoe and left a “scar” on the bottom of the shoe where it ran off. I’ve described the mental process here before, but will just say that the part of me that is me stayed alert and “thinking” even as my world turned white, then dark. Before the lights came back on, I wondered if I would see heaven, hell, or something else when they did come back on. I admit relief that I saw the porch when the lights came back on. In fact, I was convinced for a bit that I hadn’t been hit, and even said a prayer of thanks to God and the Theotokos that I was alive and it had missed me. Even then, part of me knew it was by Grace that I was alive.

You can read one account of what I felt at the time here; and, you can read up on this particular journey here. The high-level overview is that since then I’ve had open heart surgery, both shoulders replaced, found out that my right ear qualifies for a hearing aid but getting one is useless as about half the nerves are fried, dealt with a number of digestive system issues, and have spent more time in hospitals and doctor’s offices than I care for. I’ve fired a couple of doctors and found at least one good new doc. The oddest things that have happened are that I had to relearn how to sing, my eyes changed colour, and garbanzo beans/chick peas now can put me in the hospital. Some of the most effective things that have happened are speech/cognitive therapy, physical therapy, and massage therapy.

The best thing that has happened are several things that all tie together in one thing. Before I was hit, I was an unhappy Roman Catholic. Traditional Catholicism was being attacked from within and without, and the church I had been attending was no longer an option. Trying to find a new one near to me was frustrating. So, I widened my search parameters online and otherwise, and almost immediately three different things pointed me not only to Orthodoxy, but to one particular church. Not too long after I started attending that church, a change in cardiologist (much needed) raised the possibility of more open-heart surgery and I even thought a bit about a transplant (I decided no at the time).

Then, I was baptized into Orthodox Christianity. Not long after, a day of heart imaging showed that not only did I not need more surgery, but that all the damage from the strike had been healed. There was also some other healing physical, mental, and spiritual. That is an ongoing process. I began sharing that here, and elsewhere, but tried to keep it low-key in many respects. Turning the blog into an online ‘Hour of Glower’ was not and is not the plan as it is the fastest way to send people running rapidly away. Faith is a part of everyday life, and I think sharing it that way is the best way.

Today, I am five-years-old. No joke. My life ended five years ago. When I stood up again, the person I had been and the life I had were gone. Nor do I want them back. I was given the opportunity to live a new life and to grow into a new and better person through that process. There is more I could say, and over time I will share it. For now, there is one thing I think it very important to state for the record.

Today, I am five-years-old. Thank you to all my readers who have been with me over the years, particularly these last few years. Thank you to all my readers who have joined in since I started my new life. Thank you to all who just pop in every now and then. Your prayers, your support, and your gifts have kept me going and helped me to heal and grow. You have all been a valuable and important part of this new life, and I can’t thank you enough for that.

I think my journey is about to accelerate, and I hope you will all come along for the ride. In addition, there are some fascinating developments underway in space exploration and exploitation, interesting medical research, and a good bit more that I hope to share. And to my veteran friends and readers, if I ever do go ‘Hour of Glower’ you are free to have a verbal sock party and set me straight.

There is more, much more I suspect, to come. After all, I’m only five-years-old today.

If you would like to help me with this trip, seminary courses, and more, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. I’ve added Cash App ($CliffPow7) and Venmo (@Clifford-Powers-5). There is also the Amazon Wish List in the Bard’s Jar. Getting hit by lightning is not fun! It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

Changes

When I selected “A New Life” as the title and theme for my recovery from being hit by lightning, as well as my ongoing fundraiser, I had no idea how appropriate it was. My old life ended in a flash of light, and a new one began when I got back up afterwards. There were a lot of changes physically and otherwise.

One I didn’t fully appreciate at the start was that it was also the start of a new spiritual life. In the aftermath, I began searching for a new Roman Catholic church. That search proved disappointing, from a lack of traditional services to having a priest blow off visiting me in the aftermath of surgery with no word or follow-up. This led to my expanding some of the parameters of my search, and having my search and some other events point me to a particular Orthodox church. I went, and have never looked back.

It has been a rather intense journey, and by Orthodox standards it has been extremely rapid. Orthodoxy likes to take it’s time and a measured (and proven) approach to growing in the faith. This does many things, from avoiding burnout to preventing heresy and miscommunications. It also helps ensure that any member, convert or otherwise, takes the time to discern their path and to be sure it is the correct one.

In my case, that discernment has indicated a path towards the altar. While I think I know the destination, it could actually be one of several possibilities. The thing is, the first steps are the same for all of them, and my focus is on taking those steps and proceeding down the path that lies before me. If I don’t start walking, I’m never getting anywhere.

That is going to result in some changes here. There are enough political pundits out there that my small contributions to such are not needed and not likely to be missed in the roar of the crowd. My intent here is going to be to continue to write about preparedness and related issues, travel and food, and on my journey towards a very new and different life. I may offer takes on potential futures if I think it’s about to rain. There will likely still be some snark and puns, as they are too much a part of me to disappear. This is also going to be reflected in my limited presence on other social media.

Not long after I got up again after being hit, the feeling that I was spared to do something grew. I had actually had the feeling for years that I was supposed to be doing something but hadn’t done as much with it as I should have. In private, I’ve joked that the lightning was the equivalent of being hit in the head with a large dead fish both to get my full attention and get me active in figuring out what that “something” was and taking action. And I am doing so as I have no desire to find out what comes after lightning to get my attention and focus.

More than three years ago I began attending that Orthodox Christian church to which several things pointed me. More than two years ago, I was baptized into the Church and began the process of giving myself to God. Now, I am taking the steps to fully give myself and walk the path laid before me. I am human, I am going to make mistakes, and I will always be a sinner. God didn’t send his Son to save the perfect, but the sinners.

My late Godfather, a priest, told me one time that he had thought of putting up a banner on the church saying “Only Sinners Need Apply” to drive home that point. One thing that became clear on my recent pilgrimage is that the idea that I was too much a sinner, and not perfect enough to be more than I am, is not true but a lie in the dark used to encourage people not to try. There is a line from Babylon 5 that resonates with me, and even my priest liked it: ‘Sin lies not in falling down, but in failing to get back up again.’

I’ve been knocked down more than once in my life, and there are some nasty wounds in body, mind, and soul — but an amazing amount of healing has already happened. It’s a reminder that I alone can do nothing; but, with God, I can do anything. I got back up that morning almost exactly five years ago, and it’s time to fully stand up and start walking. No matter your beliefs, I hope you will follow my journey and even walk with me a bit on occasion.

On a practical note, I’m going to have to do a summer bleg here soon as the winter bleg didn’t get a third of the goal, and I want to take two seminary courses this fall if I can. Also, I hope to do some more pilgrimages as I’ve had two monasteries ask me to come back and stay a while to aid healing, learning, and growth and I would love to do that, to visit new places including the Holy Lands, and get to visit again with some of the new friends I made on this trip.

I’m also going to be selling off many of my current possessions, particularly those in storage. Yard sales, online, and anything else needed will be coming up in the next couple of months I hope. Provided my books have survived storage, I am even thinking of selling off my Science Fiction/Fantasy library, a number of which are autographed. There are some books I want to keep, plan on keeping my kitchen gear, and a few sentimental items. Also my tools, especially hand tools as I like to be able to do things even if the power is off. Other than that, going to try to get it gone. Have the feeling I need to lighten and become as agile as possible.

Even with the focus here changing somewhat, I hope that all my regular readers will stick around, and it wouldn’t be bad if a few more joined in. More soon.

What Do You Mean By Liturgy?

See Update Below

I’ve gotten this question several times, and thought I should share a little bit about the Liturgy and it’s history. In many respects, the Liturgy is the story and work of Christianity.

Before I go any further: I am not a theologian, just a student with a small knowledge of history and the Church. There may well be unintentional errors both from a lack of knowledge and from condensing a rich and complex topic into something as short as a blog post. Caveat Emptor.

I suspect the use of the word “Liturgy” started dropping out of common usage in the West with the rise of the schism that was the Protestant Reformation. With continuing fractures and new religions that wanted to distance themselves from the Roman Catholic Church and/or whatever church they were breaking away from, the term likely fell out of favor. Given how often the question in the title is asked, it definitely does not seem to be in common usage today.

In common terms, liturgy means an established form for public worship. Secular dictionaries often refer to it as a ritual, which is both misleading and derogatory — and I suspect such is rather deliberate as it implies that it is a pagan practice. Given the hatred of Christianity in certain intellectual and political circles, I am fairly certain that is deliberate.

The word liturgy derives from the Greek leiturgia, which means “public work.” In Orthodox terms, the liturgy is the public work of the Church. Keep in mind that the Church is not a building or even an organization; rather, the Church is the Body of Christ and is composed of its individual members. Whenever these people, the laity, gather together to worship God they are doing the public work of the Church. Hence the use of the term Liturgy.

In the early days of the Church, there were many Liturgies, all of which were theologically valid. There are certain prayers that have to be said and actions taken for a Liturgy to be valid. Those steps were established over time starting with the Disciples and Apostles, and, yes, there have been some changes over time to the process.

When I say many, at one point there were more than 200 unique and theologically valid liturgies in use. Part of this comes from the fact that one of the first things early Christian missionaries did was translate the Liturgy (and the Gospel) into the local language. They also often adapted non-critical parts to the local culture. Thus, the liturgy in Jerusalem was different from the liturgy in Antioch or any other major city.

The Liturgy in Constantinople was extremely extroverted, for example. In some respects, the entire city was a church and services often started at one church or shrine and then processed to the Hagia Sofia (often with detours and stops at shrines or other churches). It was quite the production. The Liturgy at a small church or city would not be that extroverted.

Sadly, those very diverse liturgies were lost when the (Eastern) Roman Empire fell. That’s a story for another day, but monasteries have twice saved the day in regards the Liturgy (at least in the East) and various texts and art.

One thing that hasn’t changed over time is that the Liturgy is in two parts: The Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. Remember that there were no churches in the early days of the Church. Christians and those interested in learning more and becoming Christians met in people’s houses. It was also, as discussed here before, an oral tradition as literacy was not common in the populace.

So, the Liturgy was divided into two parts. The first part was the Liturgy of the Word and it focused on spreading the Gospel. This included recitations from the Old Testament, later recitations from the Epistles were added, and then there was a recitation from the Gospel. At that point, those who were inquirers or not yet members of the Church (catechumens) were asked to leave as the Liturgy of the Eucharist was only for members of the Church.

The Liturgy of the Orthodox Church still has that break in it. You will hear after the Gospel the call for all the catechumens to leave, let none remain. However, no visitors are made to leave, though they may not partake of the Eucharist.

Some interesting history regarding the Liturgy. The earliest days of the Church were interesting, as the Disciples and Apostles developed the form of the Liturgy. Once the basics were in place, people began developing their own versions. There were calls for a unified Liturgy, and Saint James (the half-brother of Christ) actually worked on a unified liturgy before he was martyred. That Liturgy was used by Saint Basil the Great in the creation of his great Liturgy, which is still used today on major feast days. Saint John Chrysostom, I believe, used both of those in the creation of his Liturgy, which is used in the Orthodox Church for many/most services. While I’ve said it before, keep in mind the difference between the different Orthodox Churches is primarily the language used in the service.

So, every Christian church has a liturgy that is the standard form for their services. For Orthodoxy it is not mere ritual; rather, it is the public and living work conducted by and with the Body of Christ that is the Church. It combines teaching and spreading the word with nourishing and strengthening the souls and faith of its members. While it follows a standard form, each service is a living and unique work.

I hope this answers not just the basic question, but also the points it raises by implication. Isn’t it amazing how one small word can have such a large and rich definition in the full context? When it comes to Faith, never settle for the concise but demand, embrace, and enjoy the fuller context.

UPDATE 1: A good and wise friend has suggested a modification to the Orthodox definition of Liturgy. It is a Public Work, done by the Body of Christ, for and with (Agape) love for others. I think that a good and wise addition to the definition used here.

Monday Got Away From Me

Sorry for not posting yesterday, but the day got away from me. So much so, I missed a dental appointment. It is re-scheduled, and I did get some things done, just not posting.

One of the good things that happened yesterday is that I will be attending the Diocesan Conference for our Church with my Priest and Deacon. I have to cover my costs, so feel free to hit the tip jar. It’s in the Chicago suburbs, and while our church hosted it a couple of years ago, I was in the kitchen helping cook the entire time and did not get to attend it. Given all that has happened during the pilgrimage, I’m glad to have the opportunity.

Got some other work done, and have created the slide-show for a presentation I’m going to be giving at my church about the pilgrimage. More on that soon, if you are in or near Indianapolis, be glad to have you attend.

More soon.

Pilgrimage: Random Mount Athos

Things have been interesting, and tomorrow my church is re-opening Brother Juniper’s sandwich shop for one day — a yearly event in conjunction with the Talbot Street Art Fair here in Indianapolis. Along with Vespers it is going to be a long day. Sunday, of course, is Sunday.

So, for your enjoyment, a few random photos — most taken from one of the boats ferrying people between monasteries — that I hope will share a bit and tide you over (pun intended) until Monday.

0600 waiting for the passport office to open so we could get our travel documents to go to Mount Athos

A view looking towards Mount Athos proper

One of the sea-side monasteries as seen from the boat

A smaller port serving one of the inland monasteries

Pilgrimage: Saint Seraphim Of Sofia

There is almost no way to do the life of any saint justice. There are often struggles, sometimes hidden; there is sorrow; but, above all there is Faith. Some saints overcome sinful lives to become saints. Others seem destined to that path from birth. St. Seraphim of Sofia is one of the latter, and I am very glad I got to know him a bit on this pilgrimage.

St. Seraphim was born December 1, 1881 in Ryazin, Russia as Nikolai Borisovitch Sobolev. He was the last child born to his mother, who had lost many of her children quite early in childhood. The story of his sister, Vera, is also a part of his story, and I will recommend this article and this article for learning more about him. There is also a book I will recommend if anyone is interested in learning more.

The tales of his studies and how he became a monk then priest are one of the things that drew me to him. Like many students, he had his challenges in school, but was guided such that he not only passed, but became known for his scholarship. I will note that he is still quite often invoked by students, many of whom credit him with their success.

It is also interesting how he became Seraphim. When he was to be tonsured, his name was originally going to be something else. But that day, the person performing the tonsure was moved to name him Seraphim after St. Seraphim of Sarov. Given that Saint Seraphim of Sofia had a special place in his heart for St. Seraphim of Sofia, it filled him with great joy and an even stronger sense of purpose.

He was a teacher at all times, but a teacher of students more than once. His path led him to being ordained a Bishop, and in August 1921 he was sent to Bulgaria after a short stint in Constantinople. His work in Bulgaria was ceaseless, and with his aesthetic practices led to contracting tuberculosis. It is worth noting that until the end he rented the most humble of accommodations and was noted for giving away clothing and possessions to those in need.

Near death in February 1950, he is said to have told his spiritual children that “If I find boldness before the Lord, I will not leave you.” I can only say that it appears he did and he has not left his flock. The number of intercessions and miracles attributed to him is considerable, and my own time with him powerful.

Again, keep in mind we do not pray to our saints, but we ask them to intercede for us with God, and the miracles that accompany them are of God through the intercessions of the saint. An important point worth driving home relentlessly and repeatedly.

This is far too short to do him justice, but I hope it may lead you to learn more about him. It is well worth your time.

Pilgrimage: Vatopedi Monastery

I’ve put this one off for several reasons, mostly to do with all the amazing things that happened there. Of the three monasteries I visited on Mount Athos, this was the most profound experience. Extremely positive, but it has given me a LOT to think about and work through. Some of the things I experienced I still can’t put into words, some is not for public consumption, and some I will share a bit of with you.

A view over the large interior courtyard

As I mentioned earlier, I didn’t get nearly as many pictures here as I did of the others, primarily because so much was happening. Have you ever walked into a place and just instinctively known that this was a place things would happen? If so, that’s pretty much what I felt. I also felt oddly at home, safe isn’t quite the right word, but it’s close enough for now.

Vatopedi was founded in the 10th century, and has an extremely rich history. This gives a little bit of it, and it is well worth reading more. There are several miraculous icons and some awe-inspiring relics (and, yes, I was given the opportunity to venerate almost all of them). I want to avoid some of what Sarah A. Hoyt calls the “woo woo” but do need to share this. Not long after we arrived, I went to look around and do some prayers. Along the way, I chanced on the icon seen below, and then went up some stairs to a chapel above the main church where I venerated an icon you could feel the power rolling off. I spent twenty or so minutes in there praying for various people and things. I did not know the story of that icon at the time, but learned it later. The story of that icon is here, and I hope I never see that look on the Lord’s face directed at me. The icon below was put where the miraculous icon formerly resided.

The original was moved upstairs, read the story

I’m going to skip some of the amazing things that happened after that, but will share a small bit. I had wanted to partake of the Eucharist while there, and as such wanted to do confession. It worked out that to do so, I got up at 0300 and joined the monks as they entered the church to start morning prayers. I followed their lead, and was told that one of the monks would take me to confession in a bit.

This did happen, and what I will share is that the priest knew more about me than I had shared with him. It was one of the best confessions I’ve had in any church with no disappointment, guilting, and such that can happen (and has happened with both Catholic and at least one Orthodox priest). Instead, it was thorough, supportive, encouraging, and remarkably positive. My regular confessor is good, but this priest gave a master-class on how to do a good confession. Yes, I made mental notes. I also hope he is right on a couple of things he told me.

Afterwards, I went back to the church and re-joined the morning prayers. I wish there was some way to share what it was like as the sun came up and light began to fill the huge church dimly lit with candles and lamps. The beauty of it is not something you can easily catch with a camera, as rays from the rising sun begin to bounce off the brass and gold and stream down upon those within filling the church with a golden glow.

At a certain point, the crowd being so large, we broke up into groups and went to smaller churches located around the monastery. There, we finished the service and partook of the Eucharist. Then, we went to breakfast. Sadly, not long after that, it was time to leave. If I could go back right now, I would. I do hope that I can go back soon. More on this in a future post, as I have invitations to return to two monasteries for more extended stays.