The Catalog of Good Deeds

This section is about the people who are part of our Convent. We at Saint Elisabeth Convent are one big family, and it’s a shame to not know who you share your home with…

Faith…

Sister Lyubov, please tell us how you turned to God?

I turned to God thanks to my daughter’s rebelliousness. She was obstinate and caustic. It suddenly dawned on me that no one could help: regardless of how much I yelled at her, punished her, and scolded her, she wasn’t going to improve.

I began praying every day. I would walk to my workplace, breathe in, and simply say, “Lord save and protect my daughter! Guide her to the right track…”

On an Easter eve during perestroika, the TV broadcasted The Gospel According to St. Matthew by Pier Paolo Pasolini. I was fascinated by historical films. I watched it, and it got me thinking. If all its characters—Pontius Pilate and King Herod—were real, then Jesus was real, too. That was how faith started growing in my heart.

That was what I thought: Jesus Christ was the only man in history titled “Saviour of the World.” Neither Mohammad nor Buddha got that title. I wasn’t sure what the fact of the Lord’s death on the Cross had to do with my life. And then it struck me: “He died for you!” For us… It means that He died for me, too!

Humans are always looking for God throughout their lives. Humans are looking for the meaning of their own existence. When I got married and gave birth to a child, my purpose seemed evident: to raise a good and decent person. However, little by little it became apparent that, first of all, no one is capable of rearing a decent person single-handedly. And secondly, if the soul is immortal, then hell also exists… Consequently, one has to live in such a way so as not to get into it. It must be noted that many people begin their journey to God from believing in hell because it often begins here on earth.

Even now, I live in apprehension that life without God is a tragedy, and life with God is tragedy with a happy end. You know that God exists and that He saves people. Pray to Him and do your best to follow the chosen path. Naturally, it isn’t always easy… A Christian walks on a tight rope. Personally, I tread the rope. I fall every time I have a sinful thought or word. The Lord brings me back to my feet. The Communion is the rescue hook.

It seems that your journey is a constant search of meaning. Why did you turn to Orthodoxy?

I used to think that all religions and denominations had the rights to exist. However, I decided: If the Lord destined me to be born in the Orthodox Russia, it means that I shouldn’t protest. I should take this route. After my baptism and upon reading works by the Holy Fathers, I became convinced that the Orthodoxy is the truth. I was so happy!

Hope…

When did you get baptised?

I was baptised when I was forty-three. I’m from Siberia. I was born in Ulan-Ude, Buryatia, in a regular family. My father was a teacher of mathematics, and my mother was the director of a shop. They were divorced. My dad wasn’t baptised. I pray to Holy Martyr Warus for the repose of his soul. My mum got baptised, and the Lord took her to his Kingdom a year after that.

I was baptised in Ss Peter and Paul Cathedral. In fact, it took me a while to get to church: I was always busy working at home and on my dacha. But then I fell ill.

I was admitted to Hospital No.2. Our sisters and Father Andrew came to that hospital and visited the ill. One day, I came to Father Andrew Lemeshonok and said that I wanted to take communion but I wasn’t baptised. He looked at me in surprise: “Why don’t you get baptised?” “Well, sometimes I don’t have time, and sometimes money.” He replied in a soft voice, “Come and I’ll baptise you.” He scheduled the time. What do you think? Did I come?

When I blurted out to my husband, “Tolik, let’s get baptised together! In Novinki!” he unexpectedly protested. “Oh no! Not in Novinki! It isn’t a prayer-filled place yet! We shall go to the venerable Saint Peter and Paul Church, also known as St Catherine’s Church.” That was how we got baptised together. I didn’t realise that Father Andrew was probably waiting for me at the specified time…

It was thanks to the Sacrament of Baptism that I was healed. I could barely walk and I couldn’t run. I felt as if my legs wore heavy chains. Doctors diagnosed me with obliterating arthritis of lower extremities. They told me that it was an incurable disease. The only thing that I could do to mitigate it was hospital treatment twice a year…

After my baptism, I suddenly felt that I could run. I couldn’t fathom what happened. My pain was over… I had my second ultrasound, and the doctor grumbled, “Why do you come here if you’re fine? Why do you waste my time?” “What do you mean? I came to you because my doctor in the hospital sent me. It wasn’t my decision.” He looked at me and said firmly: “You ain’t got anything!”

I had been very loud and domineering but after my baptism, everything changed: I could no longer shout and yell. I was reading works by Holy Fathers and found out that I was to behave differently with my husband because he was the head of the family. It wasn’t okay to yell at him. However, I still like to order people about (laughs).

You see, women in our country have taken up too many responsibilities. The responsibilities are too heavy for them. Women don’t possess enough spiritual power to live in peace, harmony, and love. That is why families are broken. It happens because women aren’t Christians. I have to admit that I’m not a true Christian yet but I’d like to be one.

How did you find yourself in Belarus?

I married a guy from Belarus. I studied in East Siberian Technology Institute to become an economist. When I was in my first year, I joined a student construction team and we went to a distant part of the region to earn some money. My would-be husband was on an expedition trip there. Buryatia was serviced by Minsk forest construction expedition for some reason. It was a common practice in the USSR to mix people like that. I think it was intended as a way to preclude people from getting too fixed on local issues and to let them see the whole country. My husband was in love with Siberia, Buryatia, and Russia…

Do you remember the day when you decided to become a sister of mercy?

We had a church wedding one year after our baptism, in 1999. I began attending talks by Father Andrew Lemeshonok. Praise the Lord! I could have easily been deceived by the devil during that time of my newfound faith. I believed I could fly… I recall myself standing at a bus stop and predicting the next bus. And I would succeed most of the time! Thanks to Father Andrew, I stopped listening to my intuition and became more down-to-earth. Meetings with Father Andrew are fantastic!

I attended the Divine Liturgy once a month, and then more frequently. I would go on pilgrimages. I made Orthodox friends. I remember Lyudochka, a friend of mine, ask me, “Have you read the prayer rule?” “What do you mean?” She stared at me in terror, “Don’t you read prayer rules?” She showed me the prayer book with morning and evening prayers. I turned a couple of pages and asked in disbelief, “So… do I have to read all those prayers?”

I forced myself to read the prayers until I finally learned them by heart. Now I have another problem: I get up in the morning and start jabbering thoughtlessly. I know I have to think about the words that I utter. No one needs mechanical repetition.

It has been twenty years since my baptism but Orthodoxy keeps revealing its secrets to me all the time. First, I regarded myself to be a baby, and then an adolescent. Now I’ve grown up and I have to judge myself accordingly… Nevertheless, I’m still excited that I am an Orthodox. Our country’s greatest treasure isn’t oil or gas. It’s the Orthodox faith.

I worked in the Ministry of Statistics. I was a good specialist, an reputable expert. Little by little, I was feeling less and less thrilled by my job. I was more and more isolated from the corporate culture: I was tired of and uninterested in their parties and retreats.

I summoned up my courage and asked Father Andrew if he could let me become part of the Sisterhood. He blessed me at first but then paused and added, “If your husband agrees.”

My husband didn’t agree. Instead of feeling upset, I decided that I had to pray harder if I wanted to become a sister of mercy. It is a great God’s mercy to be part of the Sisterhood, after all. I frequented the Akathist to Grand Princess Elisabeth, kissed her icon, and prayed a lot. One year later, my husband conceded. The Lord allowed me to become a lay sister… Grand Princess Elisabeth is the exemplary sister of mercy, and who am I?

Love…

Currently, you carry out your duty in the TB clinic. What is your motivation to visit the sick and risk your own life?

I was ill with tuberculosis myself. I fell ill with that disease in 2005 for the first time. It was in the TB clinic that I saw how few sisters there were. Two sisters of mercy had to visit all the patients of that clinic. Honestly, when I was discharged from the clinic, I was adamant in my decision never to return there again. And then I had a relapse, and then another one… That was how I started helping the sisters. When you know the illness from your personal experience, you have a more committed attitude to it, and you understand people better. Drugs used to treat tuberculosis are bad for one’s mental faculty. It’s unbearable. If you take the pill, the only thing that you can do is lie down helplessly.

What does your obedience in the clinic consist of?

It mainly consists of helping the patients to prepare for confession. Sometimes I bring food or other things to the people whom no one visits… People spend up to six months in the clinic, and it’s hard to subsist on hospital food. We bring them clothes, too. Most of the time, we simply talk with them. Of course, I’ve got to be extremely cautious and polite. People have various experiences. There are former prisoners and homeless among them. They are battle-scarred and traumatised. What do I know about them, standing there clad in white… Sometimes I’m seriously shocked to realise how different my life is…

There was a girl in that clinic. Her father was an alcoholic and he had started a fire in their house. She fell ill with tuberculosis due to severe stress. In spite of that, she took communion. Thank God she recovered at last. I even gave her some money to buy tickets home because she didn’t have any.

I had to bathe some patients, too. I bathed an old lady. I cooked pelmeny for her. Her daughter had abandoned her but as soon as she heard that her mother was entitled to an isolated dwelling, she started to like her again. Naturally, I cannot judge that daughter.

Are you afraid of talking with new people? Are you anxious about the impression that people get after they talk with you?

No, I’m not. I used to be afraid of talking with people when I was young but now I’m not. The Lord acts through me when I do my duty. It is thanks to him that I can find rapport with other people. People sometimes turn to the faith while they stay in hospital. They begin attending church after their recovery. Metamorphoses like those occur most often with the patients who are put in charge of the chapel.

There is a chapel in honour of Saint Luke (Voino-Yasenetsky) in the clinic. His wife died of tuberculosis, and he was a doctor so it’s obvious that you should always pray to him before any surgery, and everything will be fine. Don’t be afraid. When I fractured my spine, I prayed to him before the surgery, and it was successful.

Is it possible to teach oneself to love others?

You’ve got to exert yourself and ask God to spread your heart. I always ask the Lord to endow me with a merciful heart. It has happened to me twice after communion: I was standing in church and feeling that I loved all those people and that they were precious to me without exceptions. It makes me even more acutely aware of the fact that I’ve never loved anyone for real, other than with God’s help. Only the Lord can instill genuine love into one’s heart.

When you go to the clinic, you have to fill your heart with good thoughts. Those people are in trouble. Seriously. Some of them are alcoholics. Some of them are former drug addicts. If you pity people, they feel it and open their hearts to you immediately, especially when they are alone in their wards. It’s much easier to be open when you’re talking face-to-face.

When you learn about the suffering that they had to endure, your heart softens, of course. It could have been your son, your daughter or sister. The only way you can help is by praying for God to make them believe and lead them into the Church.

Is it hard work or delight to be a sister of mercy?

It’s both. It’s joyful labour and effortful joy. There are moments when I can barely make myself go to the clinic but I compel myself to enjoy my visit, and return home happily. If I don’t feel any changes, it means that I did something wrong, e.g., found faults with somebody or uttered something with a shade of irritation, and I’m therefore obliged to confess and take communion and ask those whom I wronged to forgive me. Generally, I’m so happy to work in the Convent! Grace is still active in me. I enjoy doing my job in the clinic and in the warehouse. I go downstairs to the warehouse and see icons everywhere… That’s our world! That’s the Orthodox state!

Interview by Maria Kotova

July 14, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

“Fr. Dustin, aren’t all those extra services (feast days, Vespers, Matins) just for monks and retired people?” Here’s my brief response.

Before explaining the “why” of the services, you should know what the services of the Orthodox Church are. We follow an ancient calendar, so the day begins when the sun sets, so the first service of the day is Vespers. So, technically, the Saturday evening Vespers is the first service of Sunday. Then, in the morning, we celebrate Matins, called Orthros in Greek. If there’s a special celebration–such as a feast day, or the day of resurrection (Sunday)–then Divine Liturgy is celebrated. These three services–Vespers, Matins, and Divine Liturgy–make up the cycle of services in most parishes.

In monasteries, the Vespers-Matins-Liturgy cycle could be done all at once. In this case, it would be a Vigil that lasts through the night. Monasteries, of course, would add in the Hours (1st, 3rd, 6th, and 9th) as well as Compline and the Mid-night office. This is what’s considered a full liturgical cycle.

OK, now the answer.

Firstly, Orthodox Christians understand the Bible to be very supportive of a cycle of prayers:

“Seven times a day I praise thee for thy righteous ordinances.” (Psalm 119:164 RSV)

”...pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17-18 RSV)

Secondly, we believe that prayer–including a cycle of services–is a way of sanctifying time. We’re so used to what, in Greek, is called chronos time. This is the time set by your watch. But sanctified time, in Greek, is kairos. This time is much different. We believe we are called to sanctify all aspects of our life, including time.

Thirdly, each of these services is different and has different hymns. Because we have a cycle of feasts (celebrating biblical events as well as saints), the hymns contain much of our theology about those feasts and saints. The best seminary education isn’t in a classroom or in books, it’s going to all the services, every day, in the Orthodox Church for a year (this is why we had daily Vespers and Matins at seminary). If you want to know what we believe, see how we worship (lex orandi, lex credendi).

Fourthly, it’s this cycle of services that have produced thousands (millions?) of saints over 2,000 years, so we know it works. Don’t fix what’s not broken!

Fifthly, it refocuses a very ego-driven mindset in us. We’re forced to actually devote time to worshipping God more than an hour once a week. It creates a pattern of prayer in us.

Sixthly, the services take us through the crucifixion and resurrection. In the evening, we are led into the darkness of the night (crucifixion and burial) and then, in the morning, we are led out of death and into life. One can’t beat this theme! “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” (1 Corinthians 2:2 RSV)

By Fr. Dustin Lyon

Source: http://www.dustinlyon.org/?p=1742

The prayers and services of the Church demonstrate to us the need for regular, weekly Communion. Without it, we cannot expect to live our lives any differently than the rest of the world - we are simply too spiritually weak to do so.

If we have acquired a correct eagerness to receive Holy Communion, let us not fall into the trap of approaching it casually. Most people are quite faithful in this regard, observing the necessary prayers before Communion, and fasting from food, drink, marital relations, and smoking prior to receiving the Body and Blood of Christ. This kind of preparation allows us to be ready to receive the Lord under the roof of the spiritual house of our soul.

One area of the preparation for Holy Communion which is most often missed, however, is the preparation of the heart through silence and prayers then evening before. The early Church observed an all-night vigil, which was literally all night! Some parishes today observe the vigil as it has come down to us: a two to three hour service of psalms, prayers, and spiritual hymns. But in many parishes, only the service of Vespers remains as a means of proper preparation for the night before Liturgy, and for the Liturgy itself.

Vespers in fact the beginning of the process of approaching for Holy Communion. We cannot and should not approach the Holy Mysteries without it, unless we are sick. Saturday night is also the ideal time to go for Holy Confession, allowing that Holy Mystery to prepare us for the next. While some parishes with more than one priest can offer Confession on Sundays, it is simply impossible to have a full and proper Confession before the Liturgy in places where only one priest serves. Like anything, there are always exceptions for real emergencies.

Knowing all this, we may be tempted to reason our way out of frequent participation in Holy Communion, in the following manner: "Since I cannot make time to attend Vespers, and I cannot sacrifice a loud and wild Saturday night, I will simply resolve to receive Holy Confession and Communion only infrequently - perhaps a few times each year." What madness! The certain next step in our thinking will be to say, "I know Communion is the main part of the Liturgy - since I cannot receive it, I will just stay home!" Brothers and Sisters in Christ, these are thoughts from the evil one, who wants us to feel either rebelliousness or guilt when confronted with the norms of the Christian life. He wants us to be paralyzed, and he does not care how this happens.

God's peace is accessible to us. It is even offered in abbreviated forms, because of our weakness (Vespers and the Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom on most Sundays are both much abbreviated from earlier services).

If we say we want this peace, we must take the steps needed to set aside our Saturday evenings - or at least an hour of it - for the prayers with the Church which prepare us for Communion. We must decide that the eve of the day of the Resurrection - Sunday - must be spent in quiet activities that truly reflect the life of a Christian.

God doesn't ask everything of us, but He does ask something: that we take part in the spiritual struggle against the tendencies so strongly reinforced in our age of hedonism, and prepare ourselves like Moses to ascend the Holy Mountain each week. The generations of the Old Testament awaited our day and our opportunity to do just this; many would have died for the spiritual opportunity we enjoy each week.

Let us fully recognize the gift that God has given us in Confession and Holy Communion, and let us prepare ourselves in a worthy and Christian way, not simply when guilt strikes us, or when it is a feast day, but each week, so we may be prepared to fight the good fight for the week ahead.

By Archpriest Geoffrey Korz

Source: http://www.asna.ca/articles/200809-01.html

I lost my patience recently. Then, I lost my temper. These are two things that I rarely experience, and, as self-flattering as this pronouncement may appear, they are behaviors I would like to believe would not be associated with me by those who know me. Yet, under the escalating weight of a host of professional demands and other pressures that had been building for several weeks, I reacted with anger and indignation at two young men, both of whom are my juniors in age and station, and both of who unfairly suffered my misdirected frustration. My immediate embarrassment and my subsequent apology to these two young men were genuine and sincere, but I remained very upset and disappointed with myself. I shared my distress with a Greek Orthodox priest and friend who himself was privy to the situation that had produced my pique. In so doing, I was reminded why priests—good priests—matter.

I have been a steward, and, in some cases, a parish council member, of Greek Orthodox communities in places as diverse as a predominantly working-class, immigrant parish in an industrial city in northern Indiana; an enormous suburban church in New Jersey; an affluent, professional congregation in Manhattan; and a large, once-thriving parish in a Boston area town. One thing that I found to be a constant in all of these different congregations was the decisive, determinant role that the priest played in shaping the life and character of the parish community. Priests clearly at peace with themselves and happy with their pastoral ministry tended to lead communities that were united, whole, and spiritually alive. To what extent each—priest or parish—had either a positive or negative influence on the other could be debated. Nonetheless, what was clear and recurrent in my experience was the simple, and perhaps not surprising, fact that priests who were in harmony with their calling not only deepened the unity and well-being of their parishes, but, in those instances where churches had experienced strife, they were able to restore health and love to their communities. Conversely, priests in personal crisis, whose calling was imperiled, inexorably exported their own crises into their parishes.

We are all “priests.” Indeed, Orthodox Christianity proceeds from the understanding that inasmuch as the whole body of the faithful—His Church—forms a holy and royal priesthood, we, the people of God, are all priests. Nonetheless, it is recognized from the time of the Apostles that within the universal priesthood of believers there is a special, sacramental priesthood, hence the distinction between clergy and laity. The sacramental priest—known originally and formally as presbyteros (from “elder,” as in the Jewish rabbinic tradition)—is established through the sacrament of ordination. Ordination, which invests a new priest with the ecclesial authority to administer sacraments, is performed by a bishop, with the consent of the people of God—meaning, in practice, a congregation which completes the ordination by shouting “Axios, Worthy!”

Dispensing the sacraments—holy rites, mysteries, in which Orthodox Christians experience the reality of God through the enacting of His Grace—are the exclusive responsibility and prerogative of the priesthood. Nonetheless, the effectiveness and fullness of the sacraments are not dependent on the personal virtue or character of the administering priest. Precisely because the sacraments are understood to constitute the presence of Christ acting through the Holy Spirit, the priest, despite considerable popular misunderstanding among Orthodox faithful (and even among some priests), is neither a vessel nor an intermediary between God’s Grace and God’s people. Instead, Orthodox teaching explains that the priest is an icon of Christ. His role is weighty, a fact reflected in every aspect of a priest’s life, both public and private, both pastoral and non-ministerial.

The priesthood is a calling, meaning a dedication to a way of life, not merely a chosen profession. In short, this means that a man has been called by God to commit his life to serve God’s Grace. The priest assumes throughout his life the responsibility of uniting all the people of God together in Christ and sacramentally manifesting the presence of Christ in the Church.

In carrying out his calling, the ordinary parish priest must do extraordinary things: he must preach the message of Christ; promote love and peace; enrich the religious and theological literacy of his communicants; deepen his community’s understanding of the teachings of the Church; and foster awareness and respect for the Orthodox Church’s history and traditions. Furthermore, he has to accomplish all this in the midst of answering the day-to-day needs and demands and challenges of a parish community. Above all, the priest must live a life that is always unwaveringly centered on Christ’s love, and that is consistent with the principles, morality, and ethics he—the priest—preaches. I recall from my youth, a visiting priest at my parents’ Sunday table confiding to my sympathetic father that the priesthood is simultaneously both the greatest blessing and the greatest cross to bear. Truly, only a genuine calling can lead to the making of a priest capable of facing and fulfilling such imposing, yet stirring, responsibilities.

I have known many extraordinary priests. Few among us have not had our lives blessed or have not been inspired by a great priest. All the same, Orthodoxy correctly affirms that priests do not manifest the presence of Christ through their talents, charisma, knowledge, or other personal attributes, but through their sacramental function, which is not affected or influenced by a priest’s qualities. But what is also clear is that a priest’s imprint extends beyond his sacramental functions. In that sense, and in that sphere of life in the Church, we most often encounter the benefit and grace of a good priest.

The priest in whom I confided my recent story of pressure, anger, and regret is an extraordinary priest and a good man. He responded to me with this liberating Christian perspective:

"Aleko, I understand. Just know that there is so much love in the world, that no matter what others say to us it can never diminish God's love for us. Try to focus and search for this love even in the most trying circumstances. You will see that you will find joy in even the uncomfortable times and with the most difficult people. God loves you, as do I."

In my friend priest’s earnest words to me I sensed the presence of Christ’s message of love, and so I was reminded of why good priests matter. Their commitment to live according to God’s love, along with their ability to fervently convey that love to the world, is what makes priests not only important, but also, good.

By Dr. Alexandros K. Kyrou, a Professor of History

at Salem State University in Salem, Massachusetts,

where he teaches on the Balkans, Byzantium,

and the Ottoman Empire

Source: https://blogs.goarch.org/blog/-/blogs/-why-good-priests-matter-

The tradition of Jews and Christians (and also later of Muslims) is that God is the creator of both the material and spiritual world. Angels as well as humans are both part of the same created order. The traditions of these three major religions give an account for how Satan came into existence – he was an angel who rebelled against God, and then led a rebellion of other angels. Satan is not a creator and can not bring demons into existence. Satan is not Sauron of the Rings Trilogy who can summon into existence orks and goblins nor is Satan a wizard Saruman. Satan is not an evil god or God’s opposite and equal. Satan is a creature belonging to the created order and subject to God’s grace and power.

The theology of Scripture, at least for Christians, says God had a wish for His human creatures, who also failed Him and rebelled against God. God wanted the material world and spiritual world to be united and so God became human so that humans might share in the divine life. The centrality of God’s plan for humanity is in the Quran and other related traditions the very cause of the rebellion of Satan and the other demons. They cannot accept that God ranks the humans above the angels. Fr. John Behr describes St. Irenaeus of Lyons’ understanding of God’s plan and love for humans.

“A further point of interest is that man, although made to be the lord of the earth, was, according to Irenaeus, but newly created, and so appeared as a child in a world specially prepared for his nourishment and growth. The angels were also appointed to be the servants of man.”

The angels are not the focus of creation, but humans are. Angels are created to serve God and to serve humans. This fact, according to some traditions explaining the existence of Satan, is precisely what these rebellious angels could not abide. These rebellious angels refuse to serve or kowtow to mere humans. Additionally, as Irenaeus points out, the first humans were created as children, while the angels were created as fully developed. This is a reason why Satan so resented being asked to serve an immature being.

“But as they [the angels] are eternal, and thus not subject to change or growth within the temporal unfolding of sensible creation, they were already fully developed. The infant man was thus ‘secretly’ established as their lord. Neither in protology nor in eschatology does Irenaeus ever characterize or assimilate man or human life to the angelic: it is man, and the becoming fully human in communion with God in Christ, that is the center of the divine economy and of Irenaeus’s theology.” (John Behr, Asceticism and Anthropology in Irenaeus and Clement, p 43)

The goal of the human life is not to become angels – the angels were created to serve us. The goal of the spiritual life for Orthodox Christians is to become fully human – to become fully realized material beings. There is no dualism in Christian thinking opposing the material to the physical or portraying the spiritual as good and the material world as evil. In fact, Satan and demons belong totally to the spiritual world, not to the physical world. Being totally a spiritual being does not automatically make one good! Our goal is not to become “angelic”, rather it is to be fully in communion with Christ our God.

As our Scriptures teach:

“For to what angel did God ever say, ‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you’? Or again, ‘I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son’? And again, when he brings the first-born into the world, he says, ‘Let all God’s angels worship him.’ Of the angels he says, ‘Who makes his angels winds, and his servants flames of fire.’ But of the Son he says, ‘Your throne, O God, is for ever and ever, the righteous scepter is the scepter of your kingdom. You have loved righteousness and hated lawlessness; therefore God, your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness beyond your comrades.’ And, ‘You, Lord, did found the earth in the beginning, and the heavens are the work of your hands; they will perish, but you remain; they will all grow old like a garment, like a mantle you wilt roll them up, and they will be changed. But you art the same, and your years will never end.’ But to what angel has he ever said, ‘Sit at my right hand, till I make your enemies a stool for your feet’? Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to serve, for the sake of those who are to obtain salvation?” (Hebrews 1:5-14)

By Fr. Ted Bobosh

Source: https://frted.wordpress.com/2016/04/16/becoming-human-not-angels/

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Sister Lyubov Aleinikova: Becoming an Orthodox Christian and a Sister of Mercy

Parable of the Day: Do Not Let Your Children Turn into Stingy Onions

Do We Really Need So Many Services?

What Is the Most Suitable Time for Confession?

What Does It Mean to Be a Good Priest?

Some Thoughts on the Purpose of Angels and their Role in Our Spiritual Life

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