Archive for March, 2008



His All-Holiness’ book

217qkj0zbl_aa180_.jpg Patriarch Bartholomew’s book, Encountering the Mystery: Understanding Orthodox Christianity Today arrived yesterday. Metropolitan Dumbledore… er, Kallistos provides the Foreword; Dr. Dn. John Chryssavgis contributes a rather lengthy biographical essay. I am through the Foreword and will work my way through Dr. Dn. Chryssavigis’ material this evening. Likely this book will serve as my Lenten reading in capacity, probably in conjunction with Oliver Clément’s Conversations with Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I, which UPS’ website tells me was delivered today.

(Funny story about the Clément book: I saw it at the St. George bookstore after the Triumph of Orthodoxy Vespers on Sunday. It was $15, and noting a fairly substantial — if not downright questionable — markup on a couple of other items, opted to not get it. Upon getting home, I checked the St. Vlad’s Press website, and found that the book was on sale for $3 — $9 after shipping, but still well worth resisting the impulse purchase.)

The first thing that jumps out at me in the Foreword is liberal use of words to which I try to avoid, like “dialogue.” However, the Patriarch of Constantinople using the word “dialogue” somehow seems more appropriate to me than, well, me using it. I will therefore reserve judgment.patriarch_bartholomew.jpg

The second thing that is crystal clear is that part of the point of this book, even if it isn’t the prophetic witness regarding the situation in Turkey that some would have preferred, is to give Americans a reason to care that the Patriarch exists.

I’ll have more to say as I go on, but for now — I am at the very least respectfully intrigued.

(And yes, I think the same can be said of the Patriarch’s appearance that can be said of Met. Kallistos’. Check how I’ve tagged this post, then click on the tag, if you don’t understand what I mean.)

Dr. Liccione: “My prayer…is to be shown a way out of the box I’m in”

Dr. Liccione at Sacramentum Vitae writes several things which resonate strongly in an essay entitled “Redeeming secularity.” Putting some pieces together with other things he has posted recently, I am tempted to speculate that he has received some news that wasn’t that for which he was hoping, and that perhaps is not dissimilar to the news I received last month (although, one would suppose, regarding faculty placement), leaving him with the same question with which I’m wrestling: what now?

Speculation (a four-syllable euphemism for “guessing”) aside, one way or the other, I can’t help but empathize with the following:

Ever since I made a more-or-less adult commitment of faith, I haven’t wanted in my heart to be a layman at all… The question for me then became: how could I do some sort of “ministry,” my chief and indeed only abiding occupational interest, as a married Catholic man? […] And I have yet to resolve that question. I still don’t want a secular “career” any more than I ever did. I want a vocation focused on the only matters in which I have an abiding interest for their own sake: those having directly and explicitly to do with the truths about God derivable from both natural reason and his own self-revelation. Indeed, I’m such a Catholic nerd that I have a very hard time understanding why most intelligent, orthodox Catholics don’t want the same for themselves. […] [M]y heart does not change; my real interests and aspirations remain as they are, which is what they have always been. I pursue my real interests in my spare time; this blog is a part of that. I look on my unfulfilled aspirations as a sign from God that his work-in-progress known as Mike Liccione needs a lot more work in order to be credible again in something called “ministry.”

I still don’t want a secular “career” any more than I ever did. Isn’t that the truth. My interests, situation, and ecclesiastical alignment are not precisely coterminous with those of  Dr. Liccione, but his tone nonetheless makes this something with which I can unreservedly identify, words which, with minor adjustments for my own situation, I could have written myself.

But, the voices ask, what if I’m just still not “getting it?” […] There is no “neutral zone” for a Christian. For those who stay the course of sanctification, all is holy, all is redeemed. So, the challenge I confront is to encounter the “priesthood of Christ,” and join myself to it, without being able to spend the bulk of my time dealing explicitly with the things that priests and theologians, as such, deal with. I really don’t experience that encounter subjectively, but I acknowledge it happens whenever I offer myself, my actions, and my sufferings to the Lord in complete detachment from everything but him and his commandments of love. Perhaps that’s all there is to becoming his priestlings once we leave the church building with the Body of Christ in our bellies. I suppose there isn’t much alternative anyhow, if I am to be immersed in our world’s secularity, spending the bulk of my time and energy pretty much as most people do.

All well and good — but:

But that’s still not my heart. I still have to force myself to thank him for being put on such a path. Which means I’m not really grateful.

Sigh. Yes, indeed.  And then the kicker:

And what does that do to my own priesthood as a believer? I’d rather not think about that.

No, nor would I. That’s the hard truth, isn’t it?

Of course the solution is simple: “Say yes, joyfully.” Alas, easier said than done.

That’s only so painful because it is so true.

My prayer this Triduum is to be shown a way out of the box I’m in. I can only hope that’s the right prayer.

For you and me both, Dr. Liccione.

“Are we saved by the same forces that sell a Chevrolet?”

Given my previously posted thoughts on this topic, I am extremely appreciative of Fr. Stephen Freeman’s post, “Means and Ends:”

…[I]n our modern world, some denominations (and “non-denominations”) have themselves become a members of the market, recognizing the unbeliever as a consumerof religion, and itself as a purveyor. God, or salvation, becomes the commodity.

I suppose there are some who would say that in a pluralistic country which lacks a national religion, this is inevitable; religion, being entirely a matter of choice, is effectively entirely a matter of subjective opinion — that is, taste —  thereby being forcibly relegated to the marketplace of ideas, and that This is a Good Thing in a Free Society. There are certainly Christians who point to this and say, see? This is why we need to be “relevant.”

I’m not sure I have an answer to the secularist who would make this argument. I nonetheless say to my fellow Christians: we can, and must, do better. (Please note the “we.”) Mars Hill was not, in short, the excuse for Christianity to become a disposable consumer product, which is too often what seems to happen when we make “relevance” our goal. We can, and must, engage the culture, but this should elevate the culture, not bring the faith down.

Wasted opportunities for a good chat over a beer

I’ve suggested before that “dialogue” is too lofty a word for us Joe Schmoes here in the trenches. I don’t really want to have a “dialogue” with people who have ecclesiastical disagreements with me; I’d rather have a conversation over a beer. That seems to me to be more a appropriate aim for us Reg’lar Folks.

My apathy towards “dialogue” notwithstanding, I think when questions get asked and answered publicly about those with whom we disagree, we should at least make efforts to answer the questions honestly, even if that means — gasp —  deferring to those with whom we disagree so that they may define themselves.

What am I talking about? First off, read this. Now, Campus Life’s Ignite Your Faith is a daughter publication of Christianity Today, so I hardly expect it to quote the Catholic Catechism, but I also don’t expect it to take a tone which approaches “Well, Jimmy, the Papists want to put God in a box so they can have an excuse to worship idols and preach works-based salvation, but we’re the real Christians, so we don’t.”  Marshall Shelley, it is to be hoped, would be better than this.

I sent them this response. Nearly five months later, I have yet to receive any response whatsoever. It’s probably better I don’t hold my breath. To be fair, me getting at all worked up over this is probably tantamount (to paraphrase Robin Williams) to coming out of a, um, house of ill repute complaining that you didn’t feel loved. I just find it unfortunate that many will read Mr. Shelley’s answer to this kid’s very honest question and accept it uncritically.

To whom it may concern:

In regards to Marshall Shelley’s answer to the question, “What Are Sacraments?” —

A question such as “What are sacraments?” could and should be seen as an opportunity to honestly examine the differences between various sorts of Protestantism and communions which adhere to an older tradition, such as Roman Catholicism and/or Eastern Orthodoxy, and explore what the relationship between us is. Unfortunately, the answer Mr. Shelley provides does neither of these things, being rather a woefully knee-jerk misrepresentation of sacramental theology that borders on being not much more than an anti-Catholic strawman.

First of all, the word “sacrament” is a perfectly biblical word; it is nothing more than the Latin translation of the Greek word “mysterion”, which simply means “mystery” and appears twenty-two times in the New Testament according to Strong’s. Indeed, “Mystery” is the word still given preference over “Sacrament” for many Orthodox Christians.

Second, the assertion that “[t]he early church believed preaching was the main way of sharing of God’s plan of salvation with others” is somewhat confusing, at least in terms of trying to draw a connection to sacramental practice. There is, to be sure, no question about the importance of preaching even in the extra-biblical textual sources (for example, the Didache says “My child, day and night you should remember him who preaches God’s word to you, and honor him as you would the Lord”, Did. 4:1), but to suggest that this is somehow over and above, or as opposed to, sacramental practice is at odds with both the witness of the New Testament and early church history. To be fair, Mr. Shelley correctly links sacramental practice to liturgical practice (although to say that sacraments are exclusively manifested liturgically is a severe overstatement), but this is not in opposition to preaching. The Book of Acts often places even preaching in this liturgical context, such as in 2:42: “And they continued steadfastly in the apostles’ doctrine, and fellowship, and in breaking of the bread, and in the prayers.” Acts 13:2 is often translated so that the church in Antioch “ministering to the Lord,” but the Greek verb used is leitourgein, “liturgize.” The letters of Ignatius of Antioch also underscore this liturgical context, as does the Apology of Justin Martyr:

“And this food is called among us the Eucharist… For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but in like manner as Jesus Christ our Saviour, having been made flesh by the Word of God, had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise have we been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of His word, and from which our blood and flesh by transmutation are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh. […] And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons.” (First Apology, 66-7)

Third, the clericalism assumed by Mr. Shelley to be held by those who use the word “sacrament” is frankly bizarre. It is true that the priest stands in persona Christi, but insofar as a priest participates in a sacrament he is allowing himself to be used as a vessel of the Holy Spirit, not somehow casting a magic spell which compels the Holy Spirit to action. The liturgical texts employed by Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox make this quite explicit. There is nothing to say that the Holy Spirit cannot work in other ways; “the wind blows where it will,” after all. Nonetheless, as Paul exhorts the Corinthians, “Let all things be done decently and according to order,” and again, the early church writers make it plain that these functions have been in place since the earliest of days, and that they are strictly a matter of function, not a matter of quality or access.

Fourth, it is not entirely true that Protestants believe in “two ordinances” instead of “seven (or however many) sacraments.” This is true of some Protestants; however, Anglicans profess seven sacraments, and Lutherans also use the word “sacrament” (although they profess two).

This still leaves the question, “What is a sacrament?” A sacrament is, plainly, a way in which the Holy Spirit interacts with the created order in a transformative manner. The philosopher theologians of Roman Catholicism such as Thomas Aquinas analyze this in terms of concepts such as matter, substance, accidents, etc. which make the whole notion sound very technical, but it can be understood far more simply. At the Eucharist, the Holy Spirit interacts with the bread, the wine, the celebrant, and the people; as a result, it is not just the bread and wine that are changed, but all participating. At Baptism, the Holy Spirit interacts with the water and, again, the people, transforming those being baptized. Sacraments are, really, nothing short of miracles, and miracles which are considered to be normative. In that sense, then, to limit the number of sacraments to seven is somewhat missing the point; any time the Holy Spirit interacts with the world, it is a sacrament.

In Christ,

Richard Barrett
Bloomington, IN

Chills down the spine

sunday_of_orthodoxy.jpgA blessed Sunday of Orthodoxy to both of my readers; I give you the Synodikon as read by the combined Orthodox clergy of central Indiana at the Triumph of Orthodoxy Vespers (as well as Vespers for the Feast of St. Patrick), St. George Orthodox Church, Indianapolis. Hope none of you are anathematized by it.

As well, here is my priest, Fr. Peter Jon Gillquist, as the guest homilist at this service, on “Engaging the Culture.”

YouTube is my Pensieve

It’s amazing the pieces of one’s childhood one can reconstruct using YouTube. Surely, I’m the 9,081,726,354th (and if somebody wants to tell me what’s interesting about that number, you’ll get a classic Marvel No-Prize from me) person to post this out of nostalgia:

But then, surely, there are the things of which you only have vague memories, haven’t seen it in years, have never heard anybody else ever mention it, it’s never come out on DVD, you question whether or not it even existed or if you just imagined it, etc.

We got cable when I was probably about five (c. 1981-1982), and I remember this short film that I saw on HBO numerous times. The main image that I remember is this mass of magnetic tape chasing somebody around an office building, and eventually consuming him. Over the years I’ve inquired here and there on the internet to see if anybody knew anything about it; nothing. One or two people thought they remembered seeing part of the film, but had no further information. Well, I finally found it last night. I give you 1975’s “Recorded Live”:

Oh, the mustache. Man.

Two interesting names in the end credits: George Winston and Ben Burtt, Jr. The former is the pianist; the latter would go on to become George Lucas’ main sound effects guy (and creator of the lightsaber noise).

Something else I saw on cable a lot as a little kid was an animated movie called “The Mouse and His Child.” I remember parts of it really messing with my head, particularly a sequence where there’s a can of dogfood with a highly recursive label, and the titular characters are trying to figure out where it ends. It has evidently never been released on DVD, I’ve never met anybody else who remembers it, but here’s the whole thing (and it’s well-worth the watch if you’ve got 77 minutes to spare):

“Will that be cash, or –”

“TREACLE BRITTLE!” (smash to head)

Finally (for now), in the late 1980s, the church my mother and I attended for awhile used to show this movie every so often to the junior high kids. The protagonist is a schlub of a guy who leads a very humdrum life (no doubt today he would be played by either Philip Seymour Hoffman or Paul Giamatti) in a very ugly, grey and industrial city. One day a gospel group simply appears in front of him, singing music that makes him happy in a way he’s clearly never experienced before. They disappear, leaving a box behind. He lifts the lid of the box, and their music comes out. He then walks around with the box up to his ear, listening to it wherever he goes, but he doesn’t want anybody else to hear it. One night, the band appears to him again when he’s in bed, and they tell him, “You’re supposed to share it!” To his terror, they start a song, waking up his family. They rush in, wondering what’s going on, and then find themselves infected by the music as well. When he realizes that it’s a good thing for him to let others hear the music of the box, he starts going everywhere with the lid open, and there’s a closing montage of him doing so. The last shot is of him standing on the roof of a tall building, holding the box open for the whole city to hear.

Same deal — I never knew what it was called, never heard of it again after we stopped going to that church, never met anybody who knew anything about it. The images from it have nonetheless stuck with me over the years. I finally found it, and turns out it is called, prosaically enough, “Music Box.” Here is the beginning:

There’s that ‘stache again. Were there special steroids one could feed facial hair follicles in those days?

The whole thing may be found here. It’s just a tick under half an hour.

I will say that whenever the topic of evangelism comes up, the images that come to mind are from this movie. Not the, um, special white tuxedos with fluttering wings, but rather that keeping what we have to ourselves out of fear is missing the point, and that we can shout it from the rooftops in such a way that will be more than just us making pests of ourselves. Let’s not keep our lights under bushels, in other words.

Anyway — watch and enjoy.

Practical considerations in liturgy

I have nothing against Daylight Savings Time. I grew up with it; I’m accustomed to it. It was weird when we moved to Indiana and didn’t have it; it felt like a return to normal, in some respects, when Indiana candles1.jpgadopted it.

That said, if full daylight is streaming through the windows, it robs the moment of much of its power when, in the Divine Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts, right before the second epistle reading when the priest holds up the candle in what is supposed to be a darkened church and intones, “The Light of Christ illumines all!” I suppose it also doesn’t help that Great Lent started a bit late this year.

It’s one of these practical considerations that’s easier to see when the intended conditions aren’t there — much how like “O gladsome light” was originally intended to accompany the physical action of lighting candles and lamps, an event now replaced in most parishes by the flipping of a light switch, it would seem. I’m not sure what you do about these things; in the former case, sunset is now late enough in the day to make it impractical to schedule services by it, and in the latter case, somebody seriously suggesting that a church go wholesale back to candles and oil lamps instead of electric light would, I’m certain, be laughed out of the building.

Clean week varia

I have finally posted the notes and answer key for Hansen & Quinn unit II. Click on the “Greek resources” tab and check it out. As always, e-mail me at rrbarret (AT) indiana.edu with any questions, comments, errata, etc. I hope it is useful. Unfortunately, it is likely to not be until after the semester is over before I can even think about unit III, but I should have a decent amount of time over the summer to devote to this project on an ongoing basis.

So, it’s the first week of Great Lent. This means, plainly, a lot of church.

At our parish, Great Compline with the Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete is served Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday of Clean Week. This service is, shall we say, a commitment. The Great Canon is a leisurely stroll through the Old Testament; Great Compline could be thought of as the Orthodox Workout Plan. Because, you see, we make prostrations. A lot of them.

A lot of them. Want to know what it sounds like when the cantor has had to make so many prostrations he can’t catch his breath anymore but has to continue singing regardless? Come to All Saints this Thursday evening. There is a very practical reason why the rubrics of these services call for a left choir and a right choir — it’s called survival. We, alas, don’t have that, so Fr. Peter sings responsorially with me where he can, but he has enough to do as it is as well. There are moments where I can’t catch my breath and am drooling on my cassock because I don’t even have a chance to swallow — the service has to go on, and the congregation is so conditioned to get its cues aurally that if I stop in the middle of the Trisagion to swallow, a good three quarters of the congregation stops with me.

Starting tonight and throughout the fast, we celebrate the Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts. This is the highlight of the week for me throughout Lent — it’s a beautiful service, and having an additional opportunity to receive Holy Communion throughout the week when our earthly food changes so drastically is something for which I’m always thankful. It is a Liturgy attributed to Pope St. Gregory the Great (and we commemorate him as “the Pope of Rome” during the service), but it is unclear exactly how that is to be understood — that is, did he write it himself (the traditional understanding)? Was it a service he witnessed in Constantinople and wrote down later (the modern understanding)? Either way, it’s a witness to the existence of the pre-schismatic undivided East and West, particularly since those in the Roman Rite also serve a form of it on Good Friday.

Friday evening we start serving the Akathist to the Theotokos. Saturday and Sunday we have the typical Vespers/Matins/Divine Liturgy cycle (although this Sunday begins the use of the Divine Liturgy of St. Basil the Great throughout Lent), and then this Sunday evening, Sunday of Orthodoxy Vespers will be served up at St. George in Indianapolis.

So, from last Saturday starting with Cheesefare Vespers through this Sunday, we’ve got at least one, if not two, services a day. In some ways it’s a nice symmetry with Holy Week; from Friday before Holy Week through Pascha there will be more like at least two services every day, so we will finish the way we started… just with more of it. (“More of what?” you ask. “Everything,” I reply.)

At its best, from a liturgical standpoint anyway, Orthodox Christianity does not gather as a community to worship on a Sunday-morning-only basis. This is, to be sure, not practical for some parishes and missions, particularly those who might not have their own building or a fulltime priest. Some parishes which do have their own building and a fulltime priest still nonetheless only serve the Divine Liturgy on Sunday mornings and hold no services at any other time; I’m not sure I understand this, but I say that as somebody who from the first time he ever heard the word “Vespers” (at age 16) asked “What is it and why don’t we do it anymore?”

It being the first week of Lent also means I’m a bit on the grumpy side. “Where’s all my protein?” my body wants to know right about now. The adjustment, at least for me, usually is made by about the second week or so.

I am lucky in many respects that this is Spring Break week. Things are very quiet in general, and I don’t have to worry about schoolwork or whatnot conflicting with services… that, unfortunately, will be Holy Week, since Pascha is the day before finals begin.

Acts 2:42: NA27 vs Robinson & Pierpont 2005

I’m not a New Testament textual scholar and have no aspirations to being one. Let’s make that clear from the get-go. I’ve got both NA27 and Robinson & Pierpont 2005 on my shelf because the former is the academic standard, and the latter is what my church actually uses (more or less). I’ve no particular academic interest in the technical minutiae of which is “better”.

That said, I encountered an example over the weekend of a tiny difference which is still fascinating. I was looking up the Greek of Acts 2:42 — some variant of “And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” being how it is usually rendered. The key point I was looking up was the presence of the definite article with the word “prayers” (“ταῖς προσευχαῖς”, sure enough), but I found something even more interesting. Here’s the whole verse as it appears in NA27:

Ἦσαν δὲ προσκαρτεροῦντες τῇ διδαχῇ τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ τῇ κοινωνίᾳ, τῇ κλάσει τοῦ ἄρτου καὶ ταῖς προσευχαῖς.

Which, as shown, literally means something like “And they were devoting themselves to the teaching of the apostles and the fellowship/communion (that is, that of the apostles), and in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers.”

However, let’s just for a moment remember that all commas represent editorial choices; they would not have been in the manuscripts. Take out the comma after κοινωνίᾳ, and it looks like this:

Ἦσαν δὲ προσκαρτεροῦντες τῇ διδαχῇ τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ τῇ κοινωνίᾳ τῇ κλάσει τοῦ ἄρτου καὶ ταῖς προσευχαῖς.

Now, without the comma, my eye immediately goes to the conjunctions to figure out what sets things off, and here we have two. This seems to break it up into three units: τῇ διδαχῇ τῶν ἀποστόλων, τῇ κοινωνίᾳ τῇ κλάσει τοῦ ἄρτου, and ταῖς προσευχαῖς. Read this way, τῇ κοινωνίᾳ is in apposition to τῇ κλάσει τοῦ ἄρτου rather than being linked to τῇ διδαχῇ τῶν ἀποστόλων as the editorial comma suggests. In addition, καὶ… καὶ can have a “both… and” connotation. Translating it that way, it reads “And they were devoting themselves to the teaching of the apostles, (which is) both the fellowship/communion, (namely) the breaking of the bread, and the prayers.” This would seem to be a rather important difference in meaning with some interesting connotations.

However — and this is where things get interesting — if you open up Robinson & Pierpont 2005 to the same verse, there’s a conjunction which NA27 doesn’t have:

Ἦσαν δὲ προσκαρτεροῦντες τῇ διδαχῇ τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ τῇ κοινωνίᾳ καὶ τῇ κλάσει τοῦ ἄρτου καὶ ταῖς προσευχαῖς. (emphasis mine)

So, here, τῇ κλάσει τοῦ ἄρτου is explicitly set off as a separate idea from τῇ κοινωνίᾳ and cannot be understood as being in apposition to it. “And they were devoting themselves to the teaching of the apostles, and the fellowship/communion, and the breaking of the bread, and the prayers.”

Even for somebody who isn’t a textual scholar, I have to say, that’s a really fascinating difference.

(By the way, I promise promise promise to have the notes for the next Hansen & Quinn chapter posted this week.)

Got Migne?

This is nice. I’m pretty sure it’s not the entire Patrologia Graeca, but it’s certainly easier to read than scanned pages of the print PG for what is there. The caveat here is that, so far as I can tell, these *.pdfs don’t contain volume/column information, so you’d still have to refer to the print/scan edition for citation details.

But hey, why quibble?


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