The Catalog of Good Deeds

The Feast of the Elevation of the Cross does not primarily commemorate the crucifixion of Christ. That saving event is commemorated every year on Great and Holy Friday. Our feast of September 14 commemorates the finding of the Cross in the fourth century, when the bishop of Jerusalem took it in his hands, lifted it up (i.e. elevated it), crying out over and over again with joy, “Lord have mercy!” Until that time the wood lay hidden in a cistern, lost and forgotten amid the other debris of Jerusalem in the decades before and after the city’s destruction in 70 A.D. When the Emperor Constantine (aided and abetted by his mother, Helen) began excavating the site preparatory to building the Church of the Resurrection there over the place where Christ was crucified, buried, and raised, his workmen found the discarded wood in a cistern. After prayer, the story goes, a miracle revealed which bit of wood was the cross of Christ, at which time the bishop lifted it up in joy.

This feast is not simply about the wood, but also about the Church. After years of laying in the dark, the cross was finally lifted up and subjected to honour, veneration, and enrichment. It was kissed and displayed before all the world as the divine weapon of peace. In the same way the Church in those centuries also lay hidden in the dark, dreading and avoiding persecution and death, living in the metaphorical catacombs. Now it could emerge from the darkness of obscurity and fear and stand blinking in the bright sun of a new Constantinian day. Christians would find themselves honoured and their churches subject to veneration and enrichment. Decius and Diocletian were dead. The long day of Byzantium had come, a day which would not see final sunset for a thousand years.

The Feast of the Elevation of the Cross is therefore the feast of Byzantium, a celebration of the Church’s new status under a Christian regime. One can see this from the original words of the tropar hymn for that feast: “O Lord, save Your people and bless Your inheritance, giving victories to the kings over the barbarians and guarding Your citizenry with Your Cross.” The kings of course were the reigning Christian emperors, and the barbarians were the pagan powers next door. The supplicated victories were not spiritual, but military; the hymn prayed for military triumph on the field of battle. The citizenry (Greek politevma) was the Byzantine state. Now that the situation has changed so dramatically, we sing a different version of the tropar, with the kings becoming “Orthodox Christians” and the barbarians becoming simply their “adversaries”. The victories are commonly thought to be spiritual ones, since the adversaries are no longer our national foes, but our spiritual ones, the demons. It is no bad alteration, though others have suggested political alternatives more in keeping with our current political reality.

I love the Byzantine brocade and Imperial-style pomp as well as the next man — or at least I understand why it came to be. But the brocade and the gold and the precious stones now adorning the Cross do not constitute its true glory, nor ours either. Even during Byzantium, the true glory of the Cross consisted not in gold, but in the shame of God, the astonishing divine humility which He would dare to endure even the humiliating death of the cross for our sake. This is what St. Paul meant when he wrote, “Far be it from me that I should boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world (Galatians 6:14). That is, Paul cared no more for the world’s glory, applause, and fame than a dead man would care for it. He was content to share the shame of his Lord, and to hang on the cross with Him, vilified and misunderstood and hated by all, so long as he could do the will of God. That is the true glory of the Cross — and of the Church which kisses the Cross every Sunday, and which lives by its power. Brocade is fine and the applause of the world is wonderful (though it should always make our consciences a little uneasy). But all brocade will eventually rot and the world will one day fall into the fire of the Last Day. Then it will become apparent that our true glory lay in our willingness to suffer with Christ. We surround the Cross with flowers at this feast to honour it, and this is as it should be. Let us take care to also adorn it with our love, and a determination to hang upon it ourselves if God wills, caring nothing for the world, and giving everything to God.

By Fr. Lawrence Farley

Source: http://frlawrencefarley.blogspot.com/2017/09/the-feast-of-byzantium.html

Have you ever noticed the ways we mark the passage of time in our lives? Since my “day job” is in a university, I usually think in terms of semesters and academic years. Many of us may look back to “the good old days” when we remember life being better or look ahead to a time when we are done with school or able to retire. Perhaps family life was better or worse for us in the past or the economy or the world situation was more or less to our liking. One way or another, we will find a way to make sense of how our lives fit into a larger scheme of time.

Jesus Christ began His ministry by announcing that a new phase of time had begun. No, He was not talking about a new season of the year or the rule of a new emperor. Instead, the Lord proclaimed that He Himself is the fulfillment of all the hopes and dreams of the Old Testament prophets for the fullness of time, for the presence of God’s Kingdom. The word “messiah” means “anointed one,” and He is truly the One anointed to preach the good news of salvation to poor, brokenhearted, blind, and captive humanity. This Second Adam has come to set right everything set wrong by the first Adam, to usher us into a new life in which our self-inflicted spiritual wounds, and all their unhappy consequences, are healed. By restoring us to the dignity of the children of God in the divine likeness, the Lord’s salvation strikes at the heart of why people fear, oppress, abuse, and violate one another in the world as we know it. By making us participants in His life, Christ enables us to live out personally the blessedness of the Kingdom in a world still mired in the ways of slavery and death.

That is precisely why St. Paul wrote that Christians should pray for everyone, especially for those with power and authority in the world, that we may live “a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and reverence. For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” Have you noticed how we pray so often in our services for the peace of the world, the union of all people, and favorable conditions for all those created in the image and likeness of God? Because we believe that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the entire world, we want literally everyone to participate in the blessings of His Kingdom. We want literally everyone to be set free from captivity to sin and death and all their ill effects. As those who live in the new day of God’s reign, how could we want anything less?

While it is true that some become saints in situations of persecution, war, and disease, God did not intend us for suffering. He is not the author of evil, and we should not want difficult circumstances for ourselves or others. Instead, we pray for situations favorable to the flourishing of the Church and of every human being. No, good times are not the same as the fullness of the Kingdom, but every good thing is the work of God and provides at least a faint glimpse of heavenly glory for which we were created. Christ has come to heal and restore our fallen selves such that we will be able recognize our blessings for what they are and to offer them back to Him through a life of holiness. We are then able to play our proper role in fashioning the world into an icon of the Kingdom, a foretaste of heavenly peace even now. The Kingdom will not be completed through different arrangements of worldly politics and power, but by humanity united with divinity, drawn into personal union with Christ through the faithful witness of a Church whose life shines so brightly with eternal joy that the sick, poor, blind, and downtrodden will be drawn to Him like moths to a flame.

Today begins a new year in the Church and presents us all with much a needed reminder that, if we claim to be Christians, we must live according to the new day that our Savior has brought to the world. If we are truly united personally with the Lord, then our lives must manifest good news to the poor, sight for the blind, and liberty to the captives — no matter what kinds of poverty, blindness, and captivity they experience. We must become living witnesses that something new and holy has begun upon the earth, that God’s reign has truly dawned, and is good news for everyone. But if we are so pathetically weak from the ravages of sin, if we are blinded spiritually or totally enslaved by our passions, we will hardly be in a position to bear witness to others of the new life of the Kingdom. If we are not living proof that a new era has begun in which death is slain and evil is vanquished, then we will have nothing to offer the world in either word or deed. Why should anyone believe that something new has begun if we keep living according to the old standards of the corrupt world?

At this point, it is easy for us all to despair because we know that we are not yet fully healed from the ravages of sin; we know that we do not yet have perfect sight and remain shackled by our self-centered desires and addictions in many ways. Here we must be brutally honest that God’s Kingdom has yet to come in its fullness in our own lives. That is not His fault, of course, but ours. And no matter how faithful we may be, we still await the great mystery of our Lord’s second coming, of His glorious return to judge the living and the dead and to establish the life of the world to come. The question, however, is how we await that great future fulfillment as people who have much room to grow in holiness. In other words, what kind of life is appropriate for those who know that our only hope is the mercy of the Lord?

Well, it is certainly not a life characterized by despair. It is certainly not a life of abandoning the way of discipleship because we stumble and fall. It is certainly not a life so filled with pride that we refuse to persevere along a path where we are in constant need of the Savior’s healing and help. No, we have not yet arrived; but our only hope of growing in union with Christ is to follow Him as best we can, gratefully accepting whatever glimpses of the new life of the Kingdom we have the spiritual strength to see. In Him, a bright new day has begun and all God’s promises have been fulfilled. He is infinitely holy, but we all have a long way to go.

So let us all use the new church year as a time to receive as fully as we can the good news He has proclaimed, to participate as much as we can in the freedom from sin that He has brought to humanity, and to open the eyes of our souls as fully as possible to the One Who brings sight to the blind. And as we do so, let us show His mercy to others, treating them with love, forgiveness, and generosity in ways that demonstrate that something new really has begun in Jesus Christ, Who wants all to be saved, to come to the knowledge of the truth, and to share in the great blessings of His Kingdom.

By Fr. Philip LeMasters

Source: http://easternchristianinsights.blogspot.com/2013/08/marking-time-homily-for-ecclesiastical.html

This story was told to me in 1987 by Hieromonk Theophylact from Pskov Caves Monastery, previously known as Konstantin Nikolayevich Belyanin who had been a military doctor in Kazan. He became a monk after his son Konstantin died. He was collecting stories about miracles and saints’ apparitions. He published a samizdat book titled It Happened In Our Time under the pseudonym Nitsok (anagram to Konstantin Nikolayevic). There might be a copy of this book in the library of Pskov Caves Monastery even now. This is what he told me about the power of the Life-Giving Cross and the sign of the cross.

There was a Council of the Russian Orthodox Church in 1971, during which the bishops elected Patriarch Poemen. Students of Moscow Theological Seminary and Academy helped with maintenance and hospitality. A seminarian named K. shared the room with another seminarian who was a photographer appointed to take pictures of the Council sessions and guests. He always developed the photos after taking them, and he had two bottles under his bed: one with developer and the other with pure water.

As far as K. was concerned, he “took care of the meals,” that is, he waited on the guests during meals. There was a lot of delicious food, and the students were allowed to eat the leftovers. K. got up one morning and was getting ready to go and perform his duties. When he went out of his room, he heard his neighbor exclaim, “There’s no water in the building!” It turned out that the water supply had been cut off due to some repairs, and the seminarians had to do without water in the morning. K. was dying of thirst, having eaten a lot of spicy food the previous night. He recalled that there was pure water under his neighbor’s bed. He took the bottle, poured some liquid into a glass and crossed it — a habit that he had inherited from his pious parents. He drank it and went on to serve in the kitchen. When he returned, he found his neighbor — the photographer — agitated. He outstretched his arms and screamed so loud that it could be heard not only in the room but even in the corridor, “Who took my developer?” The developer was expensive, so K. was afraid to tell the truth.

Then he was curious what exactly the developer tasted like. In other words, what could have happened to him if he hadn’t crossed the glass? K. sneaked into the room, stuck his finger into the bottle, and licked the chemical. He later said that his tongue turned sore and burned for two days. What would have happened to him if he had drunk the full glass without crossing it first?

There were similar occasions in ancient times, too. Some residents of Bosra were envious of their bishop Julian and decided to poison him. God made their plot known to Saint Julian, so he took the poisoned cup and ordered all the citizens who took part in the conspiracy to come to him. When they came, the righteous man declared, “If you want to kill the humble Julian with poison, here I am drinking this cup in front of your eyes.” He crossed the cup three times, saying “In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” and drank the poison — and the poison didn’t harm him. The guilty citizens fell to their knees, asking him to forgive them. It happened in the 6th century. However, the story narrated by Hieromonk Theophylact happened just some forty years ago. Indeed, grace and wonders will never cease in the Church until the Second Coming of Christ!

This story teaches us two important lessons. First, the Lord “protects the little ones.” K.’s life demonstrated the truth of the words of Christ, “[I]f they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them” (Mark 16:18). Second, the Cross is verily the “Guardian of all Universe” — of our souls and bodies — and our lives, the temporary and the eternal.

By Deacon Vladimir Vasilik

April 18, 2014

Translated by The Catalog of Good Deeds

I have a friend who is considering becoming an Orthodox Christian. She is African-American and is concerned that by joining the Orthodox Church that she would be turning her back on black culture. While she likes everything about the ancient faith, she notices the lack of Negro spirituals and the preaching style of the church we grew up in. Also, except for me, I am the only native black American in the parish. While she is used to being the only black in some circles in her upbringing, that she would be a little more comfortable making the same plunge that I did if she saw more of us in the same pool. How is it possible to maintain a strong black identity in this white church?

As I have written in a previous article, the Orthodox Church is the white church that is not. Much of its spirituality comes from the teachings of the Desert Fathers of the Nile Valley. It is not uncommon for Eastern European monks and nuns to trace their ascetic practices back to St. Anthony of Egypt or St. Moses of Ethiopia. St. Athanasius, who was described by his rivals as a black dwarf, is the acknowledged hero of the First Ecumenical Council which underlined the true doctrine of the pre-existence of Jesus Christ. This saint would go on to be Bishop of Alexandria and all Africa and compile the books of the New Testament in 367 AD and the New Testament was officially canonized in a conference in Carthage 30 years later. Almost no White Anglo-Saxon Protestant church in this country would admit to such things. What saddens me is that very few, if any, African-American Protestant churches teach these things on a regular basis.

Also, the whites from Eastern Europe had nothing to do with the chattel slavery of our ancestors nor established the Jim Crow laws. Greeks and Serbs were slaves to the Ottoman Turks up until the early 1800’s. Russian monks defended the humanity and rights of Native Alaskans and helped push for the liberation of serfs (semi-slaves) in their own nation. Arabs, Lebanese, and Syrians do not consider themselves to be white. As for the Egyptians and Ethiopians, they certainly aren’t white. Thus, for a black American to become an Orthodox Christian is to join a universal body of believers that are not defined by Thomas Jefferson’s assumed white supremacy and Finis Dake’s Biblical misinterpretations of black “inferiority.”

Being an Orthodox Christian, I see myself as transcending America’s ignorant defining wall of race and embracing the ancient sense of being both black and Christian. In my icon corner, I have Cyprian of Carthage, Moses the Ethiopian, John the Dwarf and other heralded saints of Africa. As well, I have a dark skinned Theotokos and Christ that was written in the Slavic tradition and the Kursk-Root Icon of the Theotokos which is one of the holiest images of the Russian Orthodox Church. The pale skinned Christ Pantocrator at the top of my corner is the 6th century icon from Africa’s Sinai Peninsula. But, there is an Ethiopian icon of the Nativity beside it. I reject the American tradition of iconoclasm as it lends itself to white supremacy. I fully embrace the Orthodox tradition of iconography as ours is the faith of all peoples from the very beginning. Of course, my Baptist upbringing is against “graven images” on biblical grounds. But, Orthodoxy Christianity also uses the bible to support the use of these “windows into heaven.” And the very first Orthodox Church I attended, St. Cyprian of Carthage in Richmond, I saw full sized icons of black saints and saw “white” people going up to, bowing before, and kissing them. Who’s interpretation should I trust; that of the ones who defended legal segregation and still maintains it by custom? Or, the multi-racial church leaders who came together in the eighth century who defined the proper place and use of holy images in the life of the Christian who knew no reason for skin color prejudice?

Being Orthodox, I am opposing the American Protestantism which ignores the history and wisdom of the African saints. Why should I not pray the words of St. Macarius the Great when Serbian school children have them in their prayer books? Why should I not seek guidance in the wisdom of St. Pachomius when Russian monks in West Virginia embrace the very lifestyle he taught? Oh don’t get me wrong; I honor my mother and father, rely on the strength of Harriet Tubman and David Walker, enjoy traditional black spiritual music, and have nothing against the Black Lives Matter fight against police brutality. But, any faith that teaches me that the African Saints don’t matter is a faith that does not teach black people the fullness of who they are in the eyes of God. The Orthodox maintain this Christian fullness with that of other holy men and women from Europe and the Near East. Fathers Seraphim Rose and Alexander Schmemann (two pillars of the Orthodox Church in the United States) frequently referred back to desert fathers in the formation of Christian worship and spiritual discipline as well as the monks of Mt. Athos or Valaam Monastery. Even in those hallowed places of contemplation, the African saints are highly revered. I see no reason why I shouldn’t follow suit.

Do I miss the form and style of African-American preaching? Sometimes I do. But, style without substance and sincerity is wasted. You take Dr. CAW Clarke, one of the greatest black preachers from back in the day. That man could “whoop” a sermon from the invocation to the benediction. But, his style was born out of the intense suffering of our people during the Jim Crow era that he lived in. Clark didn’t just “whoop,” but gave a lot of spiritual truth to his listeners. Too many preachers try to imitate his style not because of shared suffering, but out of the idea giving people what they like to hear. The same is true with the delivery style of Gardner C. Taylor (my biggest preaching influence). His slow and deliberate rise to a rousing crescendo of a shout was a reflection of the pain we suffer in this world rising to the hope and victory in the life of Christ. He did this with a theological mind second to none. While racism is still alive and well in this country, most black Christians have little or no idea what it is to have suffered like our parents and grandparents. We have lost the sense of humble suffering and reliance on God that they had as we are often too quick to protest the very slightest insult against us. Thank God the days of Jim Crow are (well, mostly) gone. But, without the sense of humble suffering and reliance on God for deliverance from this world and personal sin, our best Clarke and Gardner styles are mere mockeries.

Sadder still is the fact that so many black preachers today aren’t even trying to emulate these classic ministers. Way too often, modern preaching is dictated by whatever seems popular on “Christian” television. The mannerisms and styles of whatever preacher is amassing a great number of followers and generating the largest income is the patter that is being pedaled as “anointed preaching.” There is a great reliance on “Christianized” secular slogans to excite people to a point that some of the same things heard in a Friday or Saturday night dance club can be heard in a Sunday Morning sermon. “Turn around three times and give a ‘high five’ to your neighbor.” “Ain’t no party like a Holy Ghost party ’cause a Holy Ghost party don’t stop.” If the old mothers of the Baptist church I grew up in could rise from the grave and hear this sort of preaching, a lot of ministers would be getting whippings!

The same is true for black religious music. Our slave ancestors didn’t have the luxury of pianos. They clapped, stomped, and perhaps played a drum. The songs they made came out of a faith born in struggle with both the outer demons that oppressed them and the inner demons of sin. During segregation, that same sense of music made in a faith born out of struggle carried over on pianos and in some cases, other instruments (at least one branch of black Pentecostalism had horns). Contemporary Gospel, like that in white American Christian circles, is nothing more than a Christian label thrown on the secular music forms. What is heard on a Rhythm & Blues radio station is no different than the Gospel station. Some of the “liturgical dance” performed even in the morning worship in some churches is the same as seen in dance clubs. Instead of the church being a thermostat of Godly change in the souls of black Christians, it is too often a thermometer going along with whatever is going on for the sake of being “relevant” and keeping young folk in the church. Sadly enough, one of the reasons why youth and young adults leave and aren’t very active in the church (black or white) is that secular music and dance is a lot more professionally done and done with more talent than the entertainment that is in church.

I recognize the best of my African-American Christian heritage. Among my treasured icons of the saints are photos of people who contributed greatly to my spiritual development. My cousin Oppielee, Deacon Louise Kersey, was known for her godly wisdom and love for others. Alex and Zechariah Jones were uncles I never knew but were known as no-nonsense deacons at St. John’s Baptist Church. Deacon H. L. Mays was my shop teacher and a well-loved example of Christian manhood. My mentor in ministry and grandfather in law, Rev. Carter Wicks, took my narrow behind under his wing when it came to being a preacher and pastor. I am ever mindful of the road they paved for and the legacy they left me as I pray before them and the other icons every morning and evening. I kept the name I was given at birth when I was Chrismated into the Church out of respect for the two men whose legacy I will carry unto death. My Uncle John R. Thompson was a United States Marine when blacks weren’t supposed to be good enough to be Marines. After serving our nation in WWII, Johnny was known as a giving man who extended a hand of friendship to anyone who needed one. My father, John Robert, Sr., quietly broke color barriers as his aptitude test scores for AT&T technical trainees were among the highest in his entry class. Today, he is one of the most respected deacons in King William County for his wisdom and community service. I wasn’t asked to change my upbringing to become an Orthodox Christian. I didn’t.

But, my father also taught me not to follow what everyone else was doing for the sake of being like everyone else. So, I stand on his shoulders and those of Uncle Johnny. I am rooted in the faith of Dr. Clarke and Deacon Oppeliee. But, I have taken my African-American identity to the table where Moses the Black speaks with John Chrysostom. I stand with Ephrem the Syrian and Cyprian of Carthage. I take from the chalice of Ireland’s Patrick and Egypt’s Mary. Just as Malcolm X urged black Americans to look beyond the struggle of national Civil Rights and bring our struggles into the realm of worldwide human rights, I have brought my faith to the older and broader Church. I pray my friend will see this and, in God’s time and way, come home to Orthodoxy. I pray others will do likewise.

Source: https://stsimonsorder.org/2016/02/03/to-be-black-and-orthodox-part-of-my-story/#comment-2335

Wedding rings have a very long history. For instance, they are mentioned in Genesis, the first book of the Old Testament, “And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, See, I have set thee over all the land of Egypt. And Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph’s hand…” (Gen. 41:41, 42). According to this text, a ring symbolized that something or someone belonged to somebody else. Here we see that Joseph becomes one of Egyptian officials — a cog in the machine of Pharaoh’s power. This system confers certain power to him within the scope of his duties. The ring passed from the Pharaoh to Joseph symbolizes the confirmation of this pact.

We encounter a similar phenomenon — this time in a spiritual context — in the New Testament parable of the Prodigal Son: “And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet” (Luke 15:21, 22). That was how the Holy Fathers interpreted this passage:

The father is God. The son is the fallen human race. The best robe is that of the Baptism. The ring is the symbol of the restoration of the union between God and man. The shoes on his feet are the New Testament, the commandments and laws of which make it possible for us humans to walk, i.e., to live. Here, like in the Old Testament, a ring is a symbol of belonging and ownership. This time, it’s God who restores his image and likeness in the human being and re-adopts him as his son.

Wedding rings were first used in the Roman Empire. They were a visible sign of the civil contract between the newly-weds. It meant that the man now belonged to a certain woman, and the woman to a certain man. This tradition is alive even now. Rings are a symbol of belonging.

A priest is a person who belongs only to God, so he can not belong to anyone else. The Sacrament of Priesthood can be compared to the Sacrament of Matrimony in a certain sense. A nominee for priesthood has to walk around the Holy Table three times, just like the newly-weds, who walk around the central analogion with the temple icon or the icon of a feast in the nave. At this point, the chants sung during the Sacrament of Priesthood are the same as the chants sung during the Matrimony, namely: Holy Martyrs; Glory to You, O Christ Our God; Isaiah Rejoice… It symbolizes that the priest’s soul is married to God and forever belongs to him. It is the service of the Lord that will be the priest’s main purpose in the future. It is emphasized by the fact that a new priest is allowed to hold the paten with the Body of Christ after the Transubstantiation of the Holy Gifts. It is Jesus and only Jesus that the priest will serve throughout his whole life. This ministry bestows a lot of grace on the priest but it requires all his energy and time, too.

The sacred vestment that a new priest wears shows that our Lord Jesus Christ will cover him with his grace and act through his hands. A podriznik symbolizes purity, an epitrachelion symbolizes the gifts of the Holy Spirit that the priest uses to carry out his ministry and perform the Sacraments; the belt symbolizes the Lord’s power; the cuffs are a symbol of the Lord’s chains and the fact that God acts through the priest’s hands; the phelonion is a symbol of the Holy Shroud, which points at the Lord’s Passion and at the same time means that the priest is vested with Christ. This is an exalted and a terrifying ministry to be an intercessor between God and the people. It demands total commitment, self-denial, and dedication.

That is why a priest can marry only before he’s professed into priesthood. As soon as he is laid hands on, the new priest is dedicated to God. Of course, it doesn’t mean that a married priest can stop taking care of his family. He has to provide for his home church but this is his auxiliary task, the primary one being that of serving God.

This is why Russian priests don’t wear wedding rings. Their sign of belonging are their pectoral crosses. This is to Whom they fully belong.

Naturally, you may ask: how does a priest’s wife and children deal with it? It’s striking that (I’m judging by my personal experience now) the more zealous you are in your ministry, the better environment there is going to be in your family. The Divine grace miraculously pours into the priest’s family in abundance, binding it together with love.

So the priest’s spouse keeps his wedding ring. For instance, I’ve seen wives of some priests wear their husband’s rings on their fingers or necks, like a decoration.

Aside from what has been said, there is a technical side to the fact that Russian priests don’t wear rings. Crumbs of the Body of Christ or the particles taken out of prosphoras during the Proskomedia can get under the ring and later fall to the ground, God forbid. This is sacrilege.

Dear brothers and sisters, I dare hope that I’ve unveiled some secrets of our lives as priests. Believe me, the life of a priest is wonderful!

Perhaps, the most important impression that I have got out of my personal experience as a priest is that the Lord is really the Living I Am who revealed himself to Holy Prophet Moses in the Burning Bush. Every time I stand in front of the Holy Table during a Divine Liturgy or perform other Sacraments, I am convinced of it.

By Fr. Andrei Chizhenko

Translated by The Catalog of Good Deeds

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