sleepy-time trio

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

After much recent deliberation, I have decided to discontinue work on This Vault of Heaven for the present time. As I've mentioned in previous posts, it has been a helpful way for me to chronicle my interactions with the Orthodox Church (be it the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad or the Greek Archdiocese of North America), writing out my experiences and thoughts in the light of such great holiness. At this point, however, I've reached an ironic stage in my development within the Eastern Orthodox context. Basically, I no longer trust my own intellect. Being relatively untrained outside my own personal readings and investigations, I've decided that I simply don't know enough to write correct and edifying spiritual material. Perhaps at some point--under the guidance of someone more knowledgable in these matters--this will change.

For now, I feel like I've reached a good place to "let down the pen" for the moment. I've established a new relationship with Sts. Peter and Paul Greek Orthodox Church in my hometown of Frederick, where I will hopefully learn much until circumstance forces me into another part of the world. On a more practical level, I will soon be moving to Tree & Leaf farm in Loudon County, Virginia, where my regular access to the internet will be limited. On top of that, I will generally be working an average of six ten-or-more hour days a week. Needless to say, I doubt that I'll feel like pounding away at the keys of a computer when I could be spending time with my fiance, visiting my family, attending Church and Orthodox adult-education classes, praying, reading, and enjoying the pastoral landscape.

As I said, I may decide to eventually resurrect my online writing should the time and desire arise. I'm contemplating a pilgrimage to Holy Cross Russian Orthodox Monastery in Wayne, West Virginia (a location which I would have remained utterly unaware if it wasn't for the direction of one of you readers. Thank you!) at some point in the Autumn or Winter, so I might use this website to list my experiences in that journey. I'm also thinking about eventually creating some sort of publication or project somehow geared towards Anglo-Saxon, Scottish, and Irish Orthodoxy of the pre-schism West, arising out of my own ethnic heritage and travels in these lands. There are a number of interesting Orthodox Saints from these places: from St. Brigid of Kildare to St. Edmund the Martyr. We'll see...

If any of you wish to contact me, I would love to hear from you. If you know of any Orthodox books (Patristic or modern), organizations, Churches, or locations that you think I should investigate, please do so. You can leave a comment on this post or e-mail me directly (I think that my e-mail information should be available under my blogspot profile). Even if you just want to say hello or share your own experience with the Church, feel free to write.

Christos voskres! Voistinu voskres!

window unto heaven

"O Lord Jesus Christ, Only-begotten Son of Thine unoriginate Father, thou hast said with thy most pure lips: For without Me, ye can do nothing. My Lord, O Lord, in faith having embraced Thy words, I fall down before thy goodness; help me, a sinner, to complete through Thee thyself this work which I am about to begin, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen" (ROCOR "Jordanville" 2003 prayer-book).

Although I originally formed this blog to focus on the process of writing Christian iconography, most of my posts have deviated into general Orthodox thought and life. Only being exposed to the world of Orthodox Christianity throughout the last year (I think that it was June of 2008 when I attended my first Divine Liturgy at St. John the Baptist Russian Orthodox Abroad), I think that it's been a positive way to record and think-through my experiences. At the same time, I apologize to those of you who actually wish to see images of my work! In order to finally live up (at least partially) to the original mission of this website, here are three images of icons that I've made during the past seven months:

These are not the only icons that I've begun, and I have two others in progress--one of St. Herman of Alaska and the other an image of the Theotokos. The main reason for the general slow-going centers around my use of oil-paints, which take days or even more than a week to dry before another layer can be applied. I've tried using Acrylic paints, which dry at a much faster rate. I honestly didn't like the way it turned out, though I've met another iconographer who produces amazing work with the stuff. I probably just need nicer Acrylics, but I just don't have the money at this point. So, for now, I push on with the oils. Out of the above images, two are finished icons. Only the image of St. Nektarios of Aegina needs to be completed. There's not much left to add: just the halo, the eyes, some decoration for his Bible, and the Greek inscription.

Well, I hope that you like the icons. I'm only a beginner, and I've seen some amazing iconography during my time around the Orthodox Church. Regardless, I like them, and I aspire to improve.

let us be attentive

"Let us love silence till the world is made to die in our hearts"

-St. Isaac of Syria

For the first time since I returned home from India, I am confronted by a full house with all of its implications. My brother, visiting from Spain, is listening to an old funk album in the next room. My mother is frying sausage in the kitchen, and I can hear my sister and her roommate typing away at homework projects. I had become very used to the emptiness of this place, as I related in a previous blog post. Even my fourteen-year-old dog is animated, hobbling around the house in an attempt to maintain balance. It is so good to see the family--to see this place full of life the way it once was. The atmosphere of sadness and loss that seemed to permeate the house after my father's passing two-years-ago has finally lifted--even if only for the moment.

At the same time, I've found myself contemplating silence, solitude, and stillness (notice my fondness for alliteration) these last few days. I doubt that it has as much to do with my family as this Seraphim Rose biography. I don't think that I've come to any grand conclusions about silence or a quiet-heart. At least, I haven't come to any conclusions that haven't already been expounded by the great Saints of the Orthodox faith: St. Seraphim of Sarov, St. John Climacus, St. Isaac of Syria, and others. I don't feel any great need to expound upon the silent disposition. Rather, it suffices simply to acknowledge its importance.

As much noise and commotion as modernity seems to create around us, life here in Braddock Heights is significantly quieter than the clamoring chaos of West Bengal. I met a number of quasi-Buddhists and failed-seekers who complained regularly about being unable to properly meditate because of the cacophony of horns, cars, spitting, and life. At the same time, there seems to be much more to the Orthodox concept of silence than simply occupying a space without sound. There is, of course, a place for this kind of silence, considering the rich history of hermit-ascetics in the Church. On the other hand, I've spent a lot of my recent time trying to really understand what it means to live with silence in our hearts. Perhaps it is this silence that St. Seraphim of Sarov explains when he said, "Acquire a peaceful spirit, and thousands around you will be saved". Of course, he might also have meant 'peaceful' in the more literal sense: one which stands in opposition to aggression, conflict, and violence. Then again, I don't think that these two are necessarily mutually exclusive.

Well, I leave you to Holy Monday. May Christ keep and bless all of you as we travel alongside him to his--and our own--crucifixion. Those who die in Christ also participate in his resurrection, so rejoice in this fact.

"Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10)

"It is later than you think!"

"Everything in this life passes away — only God remains, only He is worth struggling towards. We have a choice: to follow the way of this world, of the society that surrounds us, and thereby find ourselves outside of God; or to choose the way of life, to choose God Who calls us and for Whom our heart is searching." -Blessed Fr. Seraphim Rose

After returning to Frederick from my time in central Virginia, I found an inviting mail package waiting for me by my bed. I was delighted to find that the massive copy of Father Seraphim Rose's biography, written and compiled by Hieromonk Damascene, that I had ordered had arrived far earlier than anticipated. I still remember my first exposure to the legacy of Blessed Father Seraphim Rose during my first visit to St. John the Baptist ROCOR in DC. There were Seraphim Rose icons, photographs, and books throughout the parish kiosk. I don't know why I took particular note of this individual. I had already taken interest and inspiration in St. Seraphim of Sarov and probably noticed the connection in name. Maybe it was the sheer length of his beard, which is impressive even by Orthodox standards. Either way, I soon did some research and found the wealth of information dedicated to Father Seraphim Rose on the Internet.

For one reason or another, I seem to find myself overwhelmed by a deep respect and fondness for this late Hieromonk. I've already written a number of different references and allusions to the man and his writings into my blog posts. His writings have meant so much to American Orthodoxy and to the persecuted Christians living within the Soviet Union. Even though I don't have any particular plans to join or establish a monastery, I feel a sort of kinship or affinity for Blessed Father Seraphim Rose. Maybe it has something to do with him being a convert from outside the ethnicities usually associated with the Orthodox Christian faith. Perhaps it's because he was a writer or a philosophy student. Either way, I would suggest that anyone unfamiliar with his life or writings take the time to search it out.

Although I've attempted to hold off opening this biography in order to first finish Experience the Mystery, I must admit that I've already found myself reading random paragraphs. I'm definitely looking forward to getting into it. At one point I commented on this blog that I planned on writing an icon of Blessed Seraphim Rose during the process of reading the biography, but I don't know if that's really going to happen. The icons floating around are of such high and ornate quality that I honestly don't know if I can reproduce it. I guess I could try and fashion my own from one of the various photographs, but that's going to have to wait. I've been getting a lot of work done on my icons: Sts Herman of Alaska, Nektarios, and the Theotokos with Christ. I'll post some photographs soon and hopefully even get some sort of slide-show started.

spiritual growth

Recently, I had the blessing of making a visit to a pleasant cut-flower farm in central Virginia. I don't have any particular interest in or devotion to flowers, but I wanted to see my fiance, who will be working and living at the farm throughout the Spring season. Although we spent much of our time hiking in the nearby Shenandoah park, Kathleen was still able to give me the grand tour. In fact, I even helped her pick, wash, and bunch tulips for the upcoming Penn Quarter Farmers' Market in Washington DC. Beyond the plants themselves, I even had to chase down five rambunctious chickens that managed to get free from their wire fence. Although it was a frustrating chase at first, I was soon having great fun- like a game of tag from my childhood! I'm sure that I was quite the sight, grabbing chickens by their tail-feathers and flinging them over the fence.

During my time at Wollam Gardens, I took breaks from warm meals and chicken-chasing to read Experiencing the Mystery, a popular book by His Holiness, Bartholomew I, Archbishop of Constantinople New Rome and Ecumenical Patriarch (to use the full and official title). Although I'm only about half-way through Experiencing the Mystery, I find myself pleasantly surprised at the extended emphasis on stewardship of the natural environment. I just didn't expect to find thirty pages on the environment and a Christian's ecological duties in a book subtitled: "Understanding Orthodox Christianity Today"--certainly not when the section on sacraments is only half that length. But it's an important topic, and I'm glad that Patriarch Bartholomew has dedicated time and energy making that fact known. A nice, natural space like my fiance's cut-flower farm was the perfect atmosphere for reading this particular chapter. I'm glad that I was able to look out over the fields, green-houses, and blooming daffodils as I read the following quote:

"Plants are the wisest of teachers and the best of models. For they turn toward Light. They yearn for water. They cherish clean air. Their roots dig deep, while their reach is high. They are satisfied and sustained with so little. They transform and multiply everything that they draw from nature, including some things that appear wasteful or useless. They adapt spontaneously and produce abundantly--whether for the nourishment or admiration of others. They enjoy a microcosm of their own while contributing to the macrocosm around them" (Pat. Bartholomew 105).

Needless to say, it was so nice to see all the pretty flowers, spend some time with my fiance, and have the opportunity to read in peace. Now I can type under a colorful and vibrant bouquet which found its way onto my dining-room table.

Wonderworking Kursk Root Icon of our Lady of the Sign

During one of my final Sundays at St. John the Baptist Russian Orthodox church in Washington DC, I was blessed to see and pray before the legendary Kursk-root icon. For those of you who don't know what that is, either did I! I had no idea that there was anything particularly special about this central icon until I noticed that the line of parishioners queuing up to pray before it never got any smaller. Men and women spent significantly more time in front of it, doing dozens of metanias (half-bows) and kissing the image over and over again. Little girls with scarves around their heads touched card icons to this gilded image, while their mothers and fathers crossed themselves twelve-times-over. They must have completed the sign-of-the-cross some vast number of times for someone to notice in an Orthodox church! I saw parishioners prostrate themselves before the Kursk root icon, an action which is generally not taken on Sundays due to the celebratory nature of the Liturgy and commemoration of Christ's resurrection. Some women cried into their hands in front of it as though it were their sons marching off to battle.

Needless to say, I became pretty curious as to what inspired such devotion in this icon as opposed to all the other beautiful pieces around the church. I had read stories in the church bulletins about icons that would shed tears or myrrh. Straining my eyes to investigate the blue icon in the candlelight, I was happy that I had arrived early enough to take a standing spot right next to it. I knew that it must be one of those crying icons for people to line up and cry themselves that way. Alas, I couldn't see a single tear running down the Theotokos' face. Regardless, I do believe that I witnessed a glowing miracle that morning. It wasn't so much in the icon as my fellow church-goers. In all my years of attending churches from Anabaptist to Roman Catholic to Russian Orthodox, I don't think that I've ever seen such an expression of true faith in my life. Of course, I don't mean to say that I haven't seen people cry or demonstrate genuine religious emotions. Far from it! But here at St. John the Baptist it was obvious that the people believed that they were in the presence of something truly holy--something which pointed beyond itself to the great power and goodness of Christ depicted there on the icon. They couldn't help but prostrate themselves on the ground before it even if it was Sunday. I count myself blessed to have been a witness to their joy and devotion, even if I didn't know the great history of the Kursk-root icon at the time.

All the images here in this post are taken from the St. John the Baptist ROCOR DC website, so they convey something of my actual experience of the icon rather than just the icon itself. If you want to know the detailed history of this ancient icon, you can find it here (http://www.holycross-hermitage.com/pages/Orthodox_Life/kursk_icon.htm). It has all sorts of miracles attributed to it: from healing to teleportation to fusing itself back together after being cut in half after someone tried to destroy it. The name itself comes from how the icon was originally found face-down on the root of a tree by a hunter in the thirteenth century. When he picked up the icon to examine it, a stream of water sprung forth from the spot where it had lain.

sign of the cross

While reading a recent blog posting on Glory to God for All Things (http://fatherstephen.wordpress.com), I encountered an old bit of Syrian theology that had a really profound impact on the way that I understand the literal presence of the divine. According to this account, Syrian Christians have "traditionally believed that the Shekinah presence of God left the Temple and took up abode in the cross - every cross - and thus had extraordinary devotion to each and every cross" (March 27th "Careful Devotion to Christ").

First of all, this isn't actually the first reference that I've seen to the Hebrew term 'Shekinah'. My previous experience with the concept actually comes from Jewish Holocaust theology, and I believe that the term is often associated with Kabbalah mysticism. The book that I read on the subject was called Finding the Female Face of God in Auschwitz. The author related various means by which Holocaust victims would attempt to maintain their religious practices and purity in the deliberately filthy and guttural space of the concentration camp. By finding ways to light Sabbath candles and follow other Jewish observances, the victims were able to create a sacred place for the Shekinah--the presence of God. Naturally, the suffering and death of the Holocaust created all sorts of unpleasant religious questions for the surviving Jewish community, and many have asked where God was in all of it. The author, however, asserts that Shekinah was right there amongst its followers and suffering alongside them.

After reading the blog which mentions this interesting Syrian tradition, I looked up from my glowing computer screen to see a simple wooden cross hanging in the room beside me. I was moved at the thought that God might actually be so close to me--close enough for me to touch and kiss and beg forgiveness. I marvelled at the little object and the idea that I might genuinely be in the presence of the divine. Then I remembered, don't we venerate and praise "The Spirit of truth, who fillest all things"? (emphasis added) As the writer of Glory to God for All Things rightly notes, the really important realization isn't that God is in that little cross nor--as in the pantheistic worldview--in all the material objects around us. What we need to wrap our heads around is that the divine is, in fact, more real and present than the things which we perceive and interact with. And it is this reality that really moved me to a state of fear and trembling. As we bow for the morning and evening prayer, God is more real and present than the icons and candles before us. This experience of the very serious presence of the Trinity is perhaps one of the single most important truths in Orthodox Christianity.

"Truth is beheld; it is not understood intellectually. God is seen; he is not examined theoretically. Beauty is perceived; it is not speculated about abstractly" -Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew