Jacob's Well - Spring 2019 - Tribal by Jacob's Well

Jacobï¿½s Well Orthodox Church in America

Diocese of New York & New Jersey

Spring 2019

Jacobďż˝s Well Spring 2019

Published with the blessing of His Eminence, The Most Reverend Michael, Archbishop of New York and the Diocese of New York & New Jersey Editor-in-Chief

Rev. Matthew Brown Executive Editor

Nick Tabor Copy Editor

Dn. David Maliniak Concept Development

Rev. Leonid Schmidt Art Direction & Design

Tagor Vojnovic Digital Publications

V. Rev. Volodymyr Zablotskyy Publication Office

33 Hewitt Avenue, Bronxville, NY 10708 Website

www.jacobsmag.org For digital subscriptions and to connect with us on social media, please visit our website.

Opportunities

Want to be part of jacob's well? We are looking for experienced individuals to fill the following roles: graphic designer, proofreader, fact checker, writers, and artists. We are also looking for a business and organization to sponsor our next issue. For more details about sponsorship or, if you are interested and possess skills we are looking for, contact us at editor@jacobsmag.org. Materials published in jacob's well are solicited from its readers voluntarily, without remuneration or royalty payment. The publishers and the staff of jacob's well assume no responsibility for the content of articles submitted on this basis. Material herein may be reprinted with acknowledgement. Send comments, corrections, or suggestions for potential articles to editor@jacobsmag.org.

Front Cover

The Hospitality of Sinners and the Pride of Presumption

Illustration by Abraham Fillar, 2019 Rear Cover

The Embrace of the Apostles Peter and Paul

Tondo by Angelos Akotantos, c. 1425-1450 Patmos, Holy Monastery of St. John the Theologian

Contents Diocesan Life 4

A Word from Our Archbishop

Letter from the Editor

Dispatch from St. Andrew's Camp

by Tamara Cowan

Blessing of Vehicles

by Rev. Theodore Gregory

Feature Essays 16

10 Rules for Talking Politics and Religion

by Rev. Matthew Brown

Worshipping with Our Children

The Saint Who Refused to Be Commander-in-Chief

Tribalism and Psychotherapy: An Interview with Fr. Panayiotis Tekosis

by Nick Tabor

Good Church Singing Starts with Kids

Icons in Sound: The Music of Fr. Sergei Glagolev

by Harrison Russin

| Teen Columns |

by Nicholas Sooy

| Liturgy & Life |

Orthodoxy and Nationalism

by Nicholas Sooy

| Faith & the Arts |

| History |

by Rev. Dr. Michael Plekon

by Nick Tabor

by Maria Sheehan by Mat. Kathryn Los Tekosis

Trinity and the Cosmos: An Interview with Planetary Geologist Kirby Runyon

Three Ways to Pray

| Parenting & Family Life |

Managing Tribalism in Our Lives: Some Insights from Arab Thought

Church as Community: Change and Renewal in American Parishes

by Desiree Scorcia

by Adam Zeidan

Embracing Suffering: St. Nilus and the Rewards of Asceticism

by Rev. Stephen Muse

The Trouble with Tribalism

by Dr. Nicholas Mizer

| Science & Religion |

| Spirituality |

St. Nickâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Family Night

by Rev. Matthew Brown

Daily Bread

Teens and Their Parents

by Angelina Christos Trust and Vulnerability

by Larisa Paxton Shine, Shine, New Jerusalem

| Children's Pages |

by Rev. Dr. Patrick Baumgarth

Paschal Coloring Page

Word Search

ª Word from Our

Archbishop: Some Thoughts on “Tribalism” by His Eminence, The Most Reverend MICHAEL, Archbishop of New York and the Diocese of New York & New Jersey

he time is the 13th century B.C.; the scene is Egypt. The people alongside Moses in the story of liberation from Egypt are often called “Hebrews” (e.g. Exodus 1:16, 1:19, 2:6, etc.). This term seems connected with the name “Apiru,” given to peoples in extra-Biblical documents found in the Near East, dating from the 18th to the 11th centuries B.C. The “Apiru” or “Hebrews” were wanderers, nomads, with no homeland—settling within or just outside developed lands where they might obtain food, water, and work. These stateless foreigners

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had no rights in the land where they attached themselves. Egyptian texts tell how some of these “Apiru” were pressed into service by pharaohs to build temples and fortresses. We meet these forced laborers in the Book of Exodus’s accounts of slavery and oppression. The Twelve Tribes of Israel

The Hebrews descend from the Old Testament patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (renamed “Israel”) and his 12 sons—Reuben, Simeon, Levi,

Illustration: Keanu (Matthew) Ortiz

Judah, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, Asher, Issachar, Zebulun, Joseph, and Benjamin. These 12 brothers fought among themselves; their descendants, tribal peoples, competed for food and shelter, power and position, and all the other aspects of the fallen world that divide men. But when a common enemy or disaster struck, they found themselves fighting together. What uniquely and remarkably united these people is their experience of Yahweh, the God of their fathers, in the Exodus event. It was the Lord Who delivered them from slavery in Egypt, from death in the sea, and from the evil Pharaoh. It was “I AM” Whom they would follow through the wilderness for 40 years into the Promised Land of Canaan—the One True God Who made them His Chosen People. They would then experience Him as their God throughout history—in the Passover, the rituals, and sacrifices; in the Covenant and commandments; and in the Old Testament Scriptures and traditions. As long as they stayed faithful to the Lord God Who revealed Himself on Mount Sinai, obeyed His commandments, followed His prescribed way of living, and glorified Him above all, they would be blessed as His Chosen People. But if they were unfaithful, disobeyed His commandments and fell into sin, followed fallen man’s ways, worshipped other gods and polluted their faith, they would find themselves divided, weakened, and very often in deep trouble. Indeed, Israel’s history can be seen simply as a reflection of its faithfulness to God. From the time of the Exodus (1250 B.C.) to the reign of King David (1000 – 962 B.C.), who united the tribes into one nation with Jerusalem as its capital, the Chosen People were on an uneven trajectory of ascent because they were faithful to Yahweh, or if not faithful then repentant. From Solomon’s time (961 – 922 B.C.) onward, the Israelites found themselves in a downward spiral of unfaithfulness to God, seeking instead kings’ wisdom, the fallen world’s ways, and the cultic practices of paganism—thus, their kingdom was weakened, divided again by tribes, and eventually captured by foreign powers: The northern kingdom fell to the Assyrians in 721 B.C. and the southern kingdom into the Babylonian Captivity in 587 B.C. Subsequently, they would be ruled by empire after empire, including those of Greece and Rome. The result was a people again divided and in dispersion, and awaiting deliverance through the Promised Messiah. A Lesson for Us Orthodox

is the experience of Our Lord and Savior, the Promised Christ. He has delivered us from sin, the devil, and death by His saving Passion, Death, and Resurrection. We experience this salvation personally—in the Holy Mysteries of Baptism, Chrismation, and the Holy Eucharist—and together, in the liturgical life of the Church: Her divine services, feasts, and fasts; in the new Covenant of Love and Our Lord’s teachings; in the Scriptures and traditions of the New Testament Church. Our challenge as Orthodox Christians over two millennia has been to preserve unaltered the Church of undivided Christianity, in unbroken continuity from the Apostles and the “faith delivered to the Saints once for all” ( Jude 3). Those who have failed to do so, patriarchs and laypersons alike, have separated themselves from the True Church. Our ongoing legacy and challenge will always be that of faithfulness to the One Church that Christ established throughout the world. Ironically, in our country, we Orthodox are divided into 12 jurisdictions comprising the Assembly of Canonical Orthodox Bishops of the USA. When we work together as One Church, miracles happen: Consider the unparalleled successes of IOCC, OCMC, Ancient Faith Radio, FOCUS North America, and the OCF college ministry! But when we let ethnic and political loyalties separate us, we sometimes find we cannot even celebrate the Liturgy together! The Scriptures teach: Christ established One Church, whose unity is a necessity: “ . . . on this rock I will build My Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:18). And, in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Gentile” (Galatians 3:28). We should not say, “I am of Constantinople,” or “I am of Moscow,” or “I am of Antioch,” any more than early Christians could say, “’I am of Paul,’ and ‘I of Apollos,’ and ‘I of Cephas,’ and ‘I of Christ.’ Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?” (I Cor. 1:12-13). We have our Savior’s Great Commission to fulfill: “Go and make disciples of all nations . . .” (Matthew 28:19-20). Lest we fail, like Israel of old, we must reject ethnic tribalism and political involvements. Our success depends on us being the One Church, as depicted in Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer: “That they all may be one; as Thou, Father, art in Me, and I in Thee, that they also may be one in Us: that the world may believe that Thou hast sent Me” ( John 17: 21).

The New Testament proclaims the Church of Christ as the new “Israel of God,” the new Chosen People. What uniquely and remarkably unites us 5

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Letter From The Editor acob’s Well is under new leadership, with new staff, a new look, and a new approach. As clergy and parishioners from across the diocese—from New Jersey, to upstate New York, to Long Island and New York City—and as professionals in art, journalism, counseling, and administration, we’ve come together to honor the history of this little journal and to adapt it to our present moment. Since its debut in the early 1980s, Jacob’s Well has been a blessing to the entire Englishspeaking Orthodox world, and we hope to renew and advance that legacy. We are all indebted to Father John Shimchick, rector of the Church of the Holy Cross, Medford, NJ, for his 28 years of service as editor of Jacob’s Well. He gave our diocese something to be proud of: a magazine of unique quality and spiritual depth. Following his example, each issue of the magazine will be dedicated to a theme, such as Death and Dying, for example, or Tradition and Change—and though they’ll concern eternal questions, they will also correspond to contemporary issues in church life. Taking an integrative approach, each issue’s articles will address its theme from a variety of perspectives, backgrounds, and disciplines. To us, as Orthodox Christians running an expressly religious magazine, the theological or spiritual perspective is always paramount. But our religious beliefs should not be quarantined from

other disciplines. Spiritual truths hold true in all areas of life and study. Often, the contributions of science, the arts, literature, and philosophy can lead us to a more complete theological answer and can help us connect spiritual lessons to our daily lives. For our first issue, we chose the problem of tribalism. Our human tendency to seek comfort and companionship by excluding outsiders has been the cause of endless violence and suffering, going as far back in history as we can tell. At the same time, the sense of satisfaction and security it gives us is nearly irresistible. It seems to be coded into our DNA. No doubt tribalism has helped our species survive in ages past. In a society of hunter-gatherers, where resources were scarce, it was more important for everyone to row in the same direction than to row in the right direction. Wariness toward outsiders made sense, if only because outsiders could bring literal diseases to indigenous communities. In some ways, our tribal instinct is a highly developed and socialized immune response. But Christianity introduced a new era of human history and a new set of social values, demanding that we treat strangers with charity instead of contempt. Tribalism still has its uses: it helps us forge strong familial bonds and friendships. We can’t eradicate it, any more than we can get rid of our need for food or shelter. Therefore, much like the passions, it needs to be reoriented. As St. Maximos the Confessor teaches, the passions are misdirected desires that are fundamentally natural and even good. If lust is merely the misdirection of our impulse to love, then tribalism is the misdirection of our need for companionship and security. We must find a way to redirect our tribalism, whether it be the Right/Left tribalism that is tearing this country apart, or the ethnic nationalism that hinders our Church’s mission and work. All the essays in this issue aim to identify manifestations of tribalism in our communities today and to suggest ways of resolving or transforming it. Fortunately, there is plenty of material in the Scriptures to guide us. Christ addresses the problem of tribalism

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by Rev. MATTHEW BROWN

throughout the Gospels. Whether in the parable of the Good Samaritan, the healing of the Centurion’s daughter, or the command to “make disciples of all nations,” He worked to dismantle the tribalism of his own Jewish community. But as with the Law, He did not abolish tribalism but fulfilled it. He created a new tribe: one based not on political citizenship, ethnicity, or ideology, but a transcendent one that could unite all of humanity. This, then, is the solution given to us by the Gospels: not to abolish the tribe, but to expand it. Because we all bear the image of God, we are all eligible for membership. The early Christians took this to heart, as we can ascertain from the 2nd-century Epistle to Diognetus: “Christians are not distinguished from the rest of humanity by country, language, or custom,” the anonymous author wrote. “For nowhere do they live in cities of their own, nor do they speak some unusual dialect, nor do they practice an eccentric lifestyle . . .While they live in both Greek and barbarian cities, as each one's lot was cast, and follow the local customs in dress and food and other aspects of life, at the same time they demonstrate the remarkable and admittedly unusual character of their own citizenship.” Going along with this principle, Christians should embrace the truths we find in other cultures, peoples, and religions. We have a tradition of rejecting only that which is evil and incorporating and synthesizing the rest. St. Justin Martyr, writing in the 2nd century, captured this eloquently: “Whatever has been rightly said by anyone in any place belongs to us Christians, because second to our devotion to God is our love of Reason, which is from the self-existent and indescribable God… all who live according to Reason are Christians, even though some may mistake them for atheists.” It is our job, as the Church, to bring the eschaton into the present age. We must co-opt the biological impulse of tribalism to unite all of humanity to Christ—but that is a task that must begin within ourselves. May God give us the strength.

by Matushka TAMARA COWAN

ormation of our children happens whether we plan it or not. If we don’t do the forming, our kids are formed by their environment: TV, the internet, social media, and friends. In an era when sports and other weekend activities keep our families away from church many Sundays, the Orthodox Christian formation of our youth is taking a hit. Thus, it is vital for parents to have a plan. For 61 years, Saint Andrew’s Camp has fit the bill: It’s a place to form our young people through a network of Orthodox friends, mentors, and potentially even future spouses (many of our priests and matushki met their spouses during summers at St. Andrew’s Camp!). We host some 100 campers each year, and while more than half come from our Diocese, we are also blessed to host youths from the Antiochian, Bulgarian, Carpatho-Russian, Georgian, Greek, Romanian, Russian, ROCOR, and Serbian jurisdictions, and even some non-Orthodox campers. We organize the summer into five themed weeks, and every year we look for new ways to enrich the kids’ experiences. During Horse Week, which is typically our most popular, campers visit nearby stables every day for horsemanship and riding lessons, culminating in an awards ceremony and a hoedown. For Ecology Week this year, four counselors taught a Christian perspective on the geosphere, biosphere, hydrosphere, and atmosphere.

Photograph courtesy of St. Andrew's Camp

A Dispatch From St. Andrew’s Camp

In the evenings, the kids gazed at the stars through professional-grade telescopes. During Music Week, campers recorded a music video, choreographing it and playing the instruments themselves. Art Week found the kids learning sculpting and drama, and Teen Week featured swing-dancing practice and service at a local soup kitchen. In addition to our traditional elective classes—archery, crafts, and swimming —a nearby Christian camp now gives us access to its water slides and kayaks. Field-trip destinations this year included Delta Lake, Howe Caverns near Albany, the Utica Art Museum, the Utica Zoo, and a Thousand Islands boat tour. The heart of the St. Andrew’s Camp experience is the religious-education classes and daily services, where campers and volunteers learn to sing, read, and serve. This year, the classes focused on liturgical and sacramental theology. Campers roleplayed and filmed the services of Vespers, Matins, Proskomedia, Liturgy, Baptism, Chrismation, Confession, Marriage, and Unction. With two services and two classes daily, the volunteer priests still found time to get to know each child and offer them pastoral guidance. This past summer, 75 percent of our campers received scholarships. We were happy to be able to offer scholarships to all campers in need who wanted to come. We are thankful to our many benefactors and

to Archbishop Michael, who continually appeals for scholarships! Funding for 70 percent of these scholarships comes from private donors within the Diocese, 20 percent from Diocesan parishes, and 10 percent from other dioceses. Our plan to build a badly-needed new dining hall is underway; we have pledges for 10 percent of the $300,000 cost. God willing, we will break ground soon. We are grateful for any support of this urgently needed new facility! Please consider joining our St. Andrew’s Camp youth ministry for 2019 by donating a scholarship, pledging toward our new facility, or coming to work with us to form the young sons and daughters of our diocese. As Archbishop Michael says, “Not only are our children the future of our Church—our Church must be the future of our children!” With God’s help, Vladyka’s leadership, and your generosity of funds and faithful prayers, may it be so!

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Matushka Tamara Cowan is the Diocesan Director of Christian Education and the Program Director of St. Andrew’s Camp in Jewell, NY. She is married to Archpriest David Cowan, the rector of Holy Trinity Orthodox Church in Yonkers, New York.

Blessing of

Vehicles An experiment in neighborhood outreach

Photograph: © Adobe Stock

by Rev. THEODORE GREGORY

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fter my wife and I finished our time at St. Tikhon’s in 2016, we were dispatched to Rahway, New Jersey, a small city across the river from Staten Island. I had come to the priesthood late in life, after our four kids were grown, and after I’d worked for years as an architect (a profession I still practice). We’d been assigned to lead Rahway’s Holy Trinity parish, which was planted in 1967. During our early months in Rahway, we were surprised to realize that the parish was barely known in the community, even though it’s located in the heart of the city, only a mile from Main Street. For our first summer, I came up with a way to begin strengthening our relations with the town. That July, on the day we commemorated the Prophet Elijah, I invited Rahway’s emergency first responders to come for a vehicle blessing. It’s traditional to bless vehicles on this day, in honor of Elijah’s departure from the earth in a fiery chariot. I borrowed the idea from my seminary classmate Father Gabe Bilas, who did it at his parish in Michigan. I saw three

advantages: it would be a relaxed way to introduce people to Orthodoxy; it would bring awareness that there is an Orthodox Church in the community; and it would give us a chance to honor the men and women who serve us so diligently. We held a short prayer service in front of the church, using excerpts from The Book of Needs, then blessed the fire trucks, police cars, ambulances, and parish vehicles. Everyone present was anointed with blessed oil from the Tomb of Christ. We sang “Memory Eternal” for those who lost their lives in our service and “Many Years” to all first responders. Before we repeated the event in 2018, we began advertising early, printing flyers and delivering them to the respective headquarters and station houses in person. We also posted items on the Facebook sites for the church, police, fire department, and the City of Rahway. The police department’s public relations director, with whom we had developed a relationship, helped us get the word out. I also contacted the mayor’s office and our councilmen.

We ended up drawing eleven emergency vehicles, including the coveted ladder truck—six more than the year before. Two local restaurants donated food for a luncheon afterward. The response at the stations prompted the Police Department to ask if we would move next year’s event to September, so more men and women would be available to participate. For next year’s event I also plan to approach some neighboring communities.

Let me offer a few suggestions to any of our Diocese’s parishes that might like to host a similar event:

These men and women see the brokenness of humanity daily. They need our prayers, and they welcomed our effort. Reaching out with the love of Christ, offering our prayers, and saying “thank you” was sincerely appreciated. Their gratitude was humbling and the fellowship was priceless.

Approach the headquarters of first responders. Explain our Orthodox tradition of blessing vehicles and ask if they would be interested in participating. Plan the event and call back with specifics, e.g. date and time, if a lunch will be provided, and so on. Make a third visit with flyers or a personal invitation. Always put social media to good use to supplement personal contact. Make another call to confirm participation. Making multiple calls is the way to be remembered. Get familiar with where the first responders do business (restaurants, coffee shops, and the like) and contact those establishments for support.

The most important element is persistence. Plant the seed and water it; it takes time for a harvest. We need prayer, perseverance, and patience to run the race to win.

The Reverend Theodore Gregory is an architect and the rector of Holy Trinity Orthodox Church in Rahway, New Jersey.

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St. Nick's Family Night by Rev. MATTHEW BROWN

he classic dilemma during Christmastime is that our celebrations— the shopping, the decorations, the office parties—can cause us to overlook the best parts of the season. Ideally, the Nativity of Christ inspires in us goodwill toward our neighbors, gratitude for God’s blessings, joy in knowing that God is Immanuel, and wonder at the miracle of the Incarnation. But it doesn’t always work out that way. We end up mentally distracted, and some of us have trouble getting our families to the liturgical services. At my parish, Holy Apostles, in Saddle Brook, NJ, we’ve established a tradition that helps: a family night on the eve of the feast of Saint Nicholas. It’s a perfect occasion for tapping into childhood memories of Christmas and for adding a spiritual dimension to the festivities. Though the event is all about the parish’s children, it provides spiritual nourishment for their parents too. Sometimes the simple Christmas messages we heard as kids still speak to us. This past year, which was our second time around, we started with Vespers— primarily sung, read, and served by the children of the parish. We had rehearsed with them for several weeks beforehand during Church School. Most children cherish the opportunity to play the adult.

It made the kids feel empowered and gave them an opportunity to take ownership of the common prayers of their faith. It also imparted a deeper familiarity with the services. Afterward the children sat on the floor as I read them the life of Saint Nicholas. We used Jim Forest’s book, Saint Nicholas and the Nine Golden Coins. I paused at certain points during the reading to ask questions of the children, such as, “Tell me what you already know about Saint Nicholas?” They replied, “He’s Santa Claus” or “He gave gold coins to children.” At the conclusion of the story, a special guest arrived to greet all the children. You guessed it: Saint Nick! And he had a bag of traditional Saint Nicholas gifts for the kids: gold coins, candy canes, and oranges. Even little chocolate lumps of coal were handed out (to the adults). Assembling a suitable wardrobe for Saint Nick was a bit tricky the first year, but now we have the costume on hand. The only hard part is finding a volunteer to play the part. Afterward there were refreshments and sweets in the parish hall. People stayed around for an hour talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. All this on a weekday night! Even those in the parish who do not have children came and found joy in the nostalgia and festivities.

For two years in a row this event has successfully drawn all the parish’s children into the church at the same time —a rare feat. It is perhaps the most wellattended service by families, rivaled only by Mother’s Day. This second year we also attracted a few neighborhood families with young children by posting the event on Facebook. Saint Nicholas is our most widely known and beloved saint. He has the power to draw even those who rarely step through the doors of a church. There is something about what he symbolizes that breaks through some of the indifference, hardness, and busyness of people’s souls. Perhaps evenings like Saint Nick’s Family Night make everybody feel like they are in heaven, just for a little while.

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The Reverend Matthew Brown is the Secretary of the Diocese of New York and New Jersey and the editor-in-chief of Jacob's Well. He is the rector of Holy Apostles Orthodox Church in Saddle Brook, New Jersey.

Head of St. Nicholas Russian, 16th century

The

Trouble

with

SM I

B A TRI L by Dr. NICHOLAS MIZER

ribal tattoos. Tribal rhythms. Tribal religions. Tribalism. The modern West has developed a muddled set of ideas about “tribes,” the label we apply wholesale to groups in other parts of the world. There’s a problem, though: the groups we call “tribes” are so diverse that aside from their size, and the fact that they are “other” from a modern Western perspective, they actually have very little in common. They don’t think about family in uniform ways, and they don’t share common symbols, music, or beliefs.

Illustration: Tagor Vojnovic

As an anthropologist, I feel compelled to apologize on behalf of my discipline for the confusion. In our early years especially, we fell prey to the temptation to put everyone in neat, hermetically sealed boxes. This has done violence to the people that anthropologists talked about, often behind their backs, and it has done violence to the diverse expression of the Divine image that exists in the variety of how His people live. To add insult to injury, early anthropologists came to believe that non-European peoples were a window through which we could look back in time and learn the “primitive” nature of humanity. We, of course, consider ourselves the pinnacle of human cultural development, so those who lived differently must simply be a few millennia behind the curve. Combining the error of reducing a dazzling array of human adaptation to the monolithic “tribe” with the hubris of considering everyone different from you as less human gives rise to the idea that “tribalism,” or unthinking hostility towards people other than

you, is a deep-seated state of nature for human life. That we developed this idea of “primitive” humans incessantly warring against those outside their culture at a time when the West reflexively subjugated nearly every culture they met is among the great demonstrations of the human capacity for projecting our failings onto others. Conversely, in the ability of today’s anthropologists to look past the self-centeredness of cultural evolutionism and attempt to understand the wide variety of human cultures in their own terms, we can see the human capacity for understanding of the other, the “outsider.” Ideas are stubborn things, however. The concept of “tribalism” is deeply embedded into our popular discourse, even though anthropologists have long known that it does not refer to any specifically identifiable set of cultural traits. Instead, when people speak of “tribalism,” they usually mean that a deep-seated aspect of human nature is unthinking loyalty to our own group, however defined, and reflexive hostility towards outgroups. Dutch primatologist Frans de Waal calls this view “Veneer Theory.” People who hold a Veneer Theory view of humanity would say that aggression, especially towards outsiders, is natural to humanity. Civilization is a thin coat of paint covering up our true, hostile selves. You can see this view in Thomas Hobbes’ description of the life of primitive humans as “nasty, brutish, and short” or in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. The question of whether these portrayals accurately describe 13

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In Paez's allegorical "topsy-turvy," the Incarnation Christ and the Masks

reveals Christ as the source of authentic humanity and

Antonio Paez

nexus of true communion, an act that in a fallen world

Pastel on paper, 2014

early humans or the cultures of 19thcentury Congo can be answered easily and empirically: they don’t. But if we speak of our need to “move beyond tribalism,” we concede the point that hostility towards out-groups is part of what it means to be human.

the ethnographic record. To be fair, we also find inequality and oppression as far back as we can see in the human record, but this too is consistent with an understanding of human fallenness. We fail to live up to the divine potential of sociality given to us.

The opposing view, that our “civilized” morality flows naturally from a sociality contiguous with the sociality of other animals, is supported by empirical evidence from ethology, primatology, and neuroscience. I would also contend that this view—that sociality and cooperation is more essential to human nature—is more easily reconcilable with a Christian view of humanity than Veneer Theory, which holds that socalled tribalism is our true form. We are made in the image of a God who exists eternally in what Metropolitan John Zizioulas calls the simultaneous communion and otherness of the Trinity. In this view, he writes, “The Person is otherness in communion and communion in otherness.” When we fear and fight the other, we do so in our fallenness, not out of our true nature. If there is a veneer on humanity, it is a veneer of animosity towards the other, covering up our God-given sociality.

The false premise of tribalism and Veneer theory does not mean that we do not often act in ways that keep us from experiencing communion in otherness. We need only glance around us, and perhaps to glance within, to see examples of humans aggressively defending rigid boundaries between in-groups and out-groups, even when doing so threatens to destroy both. The irrationality of this behavior can be seen in the work of psychologist Henri Tajfel. In the early 1970s, Tajfel and colleagues began conducting experiments in which they would ask strangers to distribute a valuable resource between other participants. Before the distribution, however, they would divide the participants into two groups. Inevitably, participants would demonstrate in-group favoritism rather than fairness in how they distributed the goods. This is perhaps unsurprising. The really interesting thing, though, is that people would show this favoritism whether the group division was based on something potentially meaningful or completely arbitrary, like a coin toss. Even more than the out-group hostility that we see in politics, religion, or culture, this discrimination of “Team Heads” vs. “Team Tails” lays bare the banality of our tendency towards “tribalism.”

In fact, one of the defining features of humanity is our ability to form broad, flexible social networks. This capacity for reimagining social boundaries to include or cooperate with the other has even been posited as one reason that Homo sapiens was more successful than Homo neandertalensis. Neanderthals appear to have lived in the small, isolated social groups once believed to be the primitive stave of humanity. Instead, we find that adaptive and variable social organization extends as far back in the human record as we can see in jacob's well

simultaneously renders him as the ultimate Other.

male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” As we work towards more fully experiencing and living out that unity, we should remind ourselves that we are moving closer to the true nature of humanity, not “evolving” beyond the phantom image of “primitive tribalism.” We express the divine image stamped on us when we embrace the wide, flexible social bonds God has built into our nature. It's even more imperative that we do so now, in an age when the energy of so many around us is relentlessly devoted to tearing those bonds asunder. The words of Zizioulas ring truer now than when he wrote them in 1993: We live in a time when communion with the other is becoming extremely difficult not only outside but inside the Church. Orthodoxy has the right vision of communion and otherness in its faith and in its eucharistic and ecclesial existence. It is this that it must witness to in the midst of Western culture. But in order to be a successful witness, it must strive to apply this vision to its “way of being.” Individual Orthodox Christians may fail to do so, but the Church as a whole must not. This is why the Orthodox Church must watch carefully her own “way of being.” When the “other” is rejected on account of natural, sexual, racial, social, ethnic, or even moral differences, Orthodox witness is destroyed.

Dr. Nicholas Mizer is an independent scholar with a PhD in anthropology from Texas A&M University.

And yet, as Christians we know that this banal evil is not our end. In Christ, “there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither 14

Managing Tribalism in Our Lives:

Some Insights from Arab Thought by ADAM ZEIDAN

The Conference of the Birds

RTHODOX COMMUNITIES today are faced with all sorts of existential concerns. The Orthodox Church struggles to retain regular parishioners, especially in the old countries and among cradle Orthodox. Even in Moscow, with its population of 12 million, where romanticized notions of Orthodoxy have made the faith a central component of Russian identity in recent years, estimates for church attendance on Christmas sit around 300,000—or 2.5%. For many of us, our Orthodox communities become a means of preserving traditions and communities that are scarce in this country, but that make us feel at home.

Poem by Farid ud-Din Attar, c. 1177. Illustrated manuscript by Habiballah of Sava, c. 1600. Ink, opaque watercolor, gold, and silver on paper. In this classic of Sufi poetry, the sovereignless birds of the world gather as a community to seek the legendary Simorgh (pictured above), whom they'll ask to be their king. After trials, personal failings, and death dwindle their number to thirty remaining seekers, they encounter the Simorgh (Persian; literally thirty si birds morgh), whose likeness they realize is already reflected in them, but veiled by their own flaws and prejudices.

And so we work to protect our communities from dissipating and to uphold the uniqueness of our faith. In so doing, we build strong ties to each other, work vigorously to support one another, and proudly share our cultures with outsiders at our annual festivals. At the same time, however, our efforts can inadvertently end up with us putting our Orthodox identity before Christ, or even creating an atmosphere of exclusivity that makes outsiders feel unwelcome. While it is important for us to take care of our community, we must be mindful of how our actions affect outsiders and aim to strike a balance between building strong communities and excluding others. 17

In the Arab world, taking care of our community and mistreating outsiders are both caught up in the concept of aşabiyyah—often translated as something along the lines of “tribalism, but actually a term that has long proved difficult to translate with accuracy. By far the most developed treatment of this concept comes from Ibn Khaldun, a fourteenthcentury historiographer sometimes cited as a forerunner of modern sociology. For Ibn Khaldun, aşabiyyah is both the basis for and the engine of civilization. It is a natural component of human nature and society to be embraced, understood, and managed. Yet before him, Islamic doctrine had explicitly condemned aşabiyyah as an unwanted social ill, causing division, conflict, and oppression. So while this term indeed approaches Western notions of tribalism, it’s both more comprehensive and more volatile. The good aspects of aşabiyyah are ones we as Orthodox Christians can easily relate to. At its core, aşabiyyah is the connection of a shared fate you feel between you and your neighbor. Natural ties, such as kinship, tend to be the strongest. You likely feel closer to your parents, your children, your brother, and your sister than you do to family friends. At the same time, though, there is nothing precluding you from feeling a connection and a shared fate with a complete stranger. While you feel jacob's well

not do for the least of these, you did not do to Me,” He signaled that all our fates are intertwined through Him.

Ibn Khaldun Engraved portrait of Ibn Khaldun, based on current 10 Dinar banknote from his native Tunisia.

closer to your own family, you likely feel an affinity for your countrymen or for your fellow Orthodox Christians on the other side of the world, even if you have never met them. The feeling of being connected by a shared fate is not confined to people you know; you innately feel connected in such a way to people you do not know and will never meet. This feeling motivates us to take care of one another. It is the reason we share our homes with our families, raise funds for common endeavors, maintain public schools, and even join the military. It is why we give gifts and establish safety nets. It is why we pool our resources as a family, as a church community, or as a society. Aşabiyyah— feeling a connection with others through a shared fate—is responsible for us caring for one another.

This same sort of love is still reflected very strongly in Arab culture. When you visit an Arab home, your hosts will insist you eat until you are stuffed. If there is not enough food to go around, they will eat less (or even nothing at all) just to ensure you are well-nourished. Even the children might be made to go with less food, a matter that we will return to later. If you don’t eat much, they will assume you do not like what they have given you and will feel guilty for not offering you something better. But on the other side of the coin, Islamic tradition recognizes undesirable aspects of aşabiyyah. The Qur’an offers innumerable guidelines on family relations, neighborly conduct, and social justice. The commitment to social welfare in Islam is reflected in the fact that the Muslim community is referred to as “the nation.” There can be no doubt that the religion invokes the same sort of love for one’s neighbor as described above, and that the commitment to loving one’s neighbor is strong within Islam. Yet at the same time, Muhammad is said to have compared aşabiyyah to an outright ignorance of God’s message, calling to mind Arab societies prior to Islam. In those times, people had been so committed to their loved ones that feuds between families and tribes were frequent, and retribution was never-ending. It also led to the purposeful oppression of enemies. Defensive, divisive, and destructive, this staunch commitment was incompatible with the universalism of Islam.

Ideally, the broadest form of aşabiyyah is the connection we feel to all human beings. Christ our God taught us that all the Law hangs on two commandments: that we love God with all our hearts and love our neighbor as ourselves. And indeed, Orthodox theology teaches that we owe respect, dignity, and love to every human person by the simple virtue of sharing a common human nature—and because each one of us is the icon and image of Christ. When He said, “whatever you did

The takeaway is a clear one that resounds with the Orthodox as well: we cannot be selective about whom we love. Protecting your family or your community can easily turn into violence and oppression against others, motivated by insecurity. When we feel we are under threat, it is easy for us to get lost in a mentality of “it’s either us or them.” Among the Orthodox in the United States, our good intentions of preserving our traditions and communities have led to accusations of phyletism—equating our religion with our ethnicity and

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producing an unwelcoming environment for members of other ethnicities. Sometimes we can tell what is good when it involves a selfless sacrifice against oneself and one’s tribe and going against those ties that are naturally stronger. When you take on (reasonable) harm to yourself or your family in order to help a stranger, you are not rejecting your aşabiyyah for those close to you, but rather you are extending it to include that stranger. When parents let their children go hungry for the night to satisfy a stranger’s hunger instead, as mentioned earlier, they are defying their natural instinct, which is to take care of themselves and their families first. Instead, they are putting their trust in a shared fate, and that which benefits the stranger ultimately benefits the community at large and the greater good. It is trusting that the stranger would return the favor if given the opportunity. The lesson of aşabiyyah, then, is central to Orthodoxy. Coming together to provide support, comfort, and protection not only for our loved ones, but for complete strangers as well, is an essential aspect of our worship, and a demonstration of our faith in our shared connection through Christ. On the other hand, when we are loving some people more than others, we end up excluding strangers and perhaps hoarding resources, or even oppressing others. This is a lack of faith in our shared connection with one another, which is, in fact, Christ. The balance is not always easy to find, but it is our duty to be on guard against the harm that loving our families and communities selectively can cause to others.

Adam Zeidan is a PhD candidate in the Department of Semitic and Egyptian Languages and Literatures at the Catholic University of America and Assistant Editor at Encyclopædia Britannica. He is a parishioner at St. Makarios the Great Orthodox Mission in Chicago.

The Good Samaritan Vincent van Gogh (after Eugène Delacroix) Oil on canvas, 1890

“And who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29) 19

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Church as Community Change

and

Renewal

American Parishes by Rev. Dr. MICHAEL PLEKON

n the scriptures, the Liturgy, and in the writings of the great teachers of the faith, there is a long list of names, some even descriptions or definitions of “church.” The term “church” itself stems from the Greek and Latin ekklesia/ecclesia, which in turn seem to be translations of the Hebrew qahal. All of these have nothing to do with a building, which for most, is the first way of understanding “church.” Rather, all of these refer to a gathering, an assembly, a group that regularly meets, that is held together by common purpose, aims, ideas. The Hebrew Bible itself is full of terms and images. The Temple, and before it the Tabernacle or tent, is a sacred place/ space, first portable as it accompanied the Israelites in their wanderings, then to some extent localized in the Ark of the Covenant’s residence with the priests at Shiloh. But the principal location of God’s house would be the Temple at Jerusalem. Many towns and villages, even outside Palestine, would have their own houses or gatherings in the form of local synagogues.

For the first disciples of Jesus, of course, there was still the Jerusalem Temple and local synagogues, but as in Judaism, the home was an important place of prayer and celebration. The first celebrations of the Eucharist were in homes, around a table where a supper would follow. These Christians would have known the many descriptions of their existence as God’s people—God’s flock, vineyard, God’s field, God’s tent, temple, and dwelling place. Israel was the beloved, the spouse of Yahweh. God was their shepherd, leader, ruler, and loving parent, invoking images of both father and mother. We are familiar with the terms introduced alongside these by the letter-writing Apostles: the body of Christ, the royal nation, holy priesthood, and the band of God’s spokespeople or prophets. Other Scriptures would use images of the bride, a mother, and a heavenly city of great beauty and delight. Paul speaks of the church that gathers or meets in the houses of Junia and Andronicus, Aquila and Prisca, and Lydia. The community

or fellowship—koinonia—lives and acts “as one, in the same place, for the same purpose,” united in “the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread, and the prayers.” So the Acts of the Apostles tells us (2:4247). Paul tells the faithful of Corinth that they share the one loaf of bread and one cup that are the Body and Blood of the Lord, and this is their unity (1 Cor. 10:1618, 11:23-34). They become, as Augustine later would say, what they receive. They are the body of Christ in their community. They receive the bread of life and become like that bread: sustenance for the life of the world. We need to keep these images and understandings in mind as we examine what changes have come upon churches today, as well as what being “church” is today and what being “church” can be going forward. We know what being “church” has meant in the past: a gathering of those from the same oblast or province back in Eastern Europe, from the same region, the same

Photograph: © Inna Chernysh Photograph courtesy of St. John the Baptist Orthodox Church

“They are the body of Christ in their community. They receive the bread of life and become like that bread: sustenance for the life of the world.”

St. John the Baptist Orthodox Church Alpha, NJ Children receiving their first communion in 1918. Like many Orthodox churches

ethnic background, the same work backgrounds, or a common identity as immigrants seeking work in late 19th and early 20th century mines, factories, and mills. For Orthodox Christians as well as Roman and Byzantine Catholics and Lutherans, among others, being “church” until recently came with an ethnic qualifier on the sign outside: Greek, Russian, Carpatho-Rusyn, Ukrainian, Macedonian, Bulgarian, Romanian, Albanian, Georgian, or Belorussian. Often, people simply knew St. Mary’s or St. Joseph’s or Holy Trinity as “the Italian,” “the German,” “the Polish,” “the Slovak,” “the Swedish,” or “the Norwegian” churches. “Church” has also meant “tribe,” and this has extended beyond ethnic and language groups to race and socio-economic class. The notion that we’re a “nation of immigrants” now raises negative feelings in some Americans. Immigration of every sort, undocumented as well as legal, has its opponents, despite this country being completely composed of immigrants (except for the indigenous peoples). Coming closer to the details of local congregations of immigrants in urban areas and towns, families would bridge across parishes as well as church bodies. Many from the former Austro-Hungarian province of Galicia, now western Ukraine, had different ethnic and church bodies on both sides of families that had intermarried even before immigration—a pattern that has continued uninterrupted until today. My own family, all from the same village in the same Ternopil oblast, was just such a mix of languages and church backgrounds. For decades, certainly in the years between the wars and right after WWII, the local church was typically the main place of a family’s social engagement. Most parishes were composed of multi-generational families. Those were the days when people

were born, grew up, were educated, had their own families, and eventually retired, all in the same place, with pretty much the same tribe or group, whether Polish, Slovak, Norwegian, or Greek. Not anymore! As has been noted by scholars who study community and churches—such as Robert Putnam, Nancy Ammerman, and Sally K. Gallagher, among others—a host of changes, all of them demographic and none of them having to do with belief or practice, have transformed the landscape of American communities and churches. No region of the country is immune. This is no longer a predominantly urban phenomenon, but now one that affects suburbs, exurbs, and small towns. Nor is any ethnic group or church body immune. We are a society of diversity, mobility, and consumer choice. Look at pictures of a parish gathering for a feast day or anniversary from 10 or 20 or more years ago and it immediately becomes evident how many relocate—our children, our grandchildren, and, indeed, ourselves. Neither is age any longer a measure of church membership and attendance. Those who don’t belong to any congregation and have no regular pattern of attending services—what are called “religious nones”—are as common among over 50 as among people 30 and under. Maybe it is obvious, but in addition to mobility, intermarriage, and unmooring from community, the American church landscape is aging. This holds true across all church bodies. Moreover, the loss of members is not being matched by the influx of new ones. Thus, many historic parishes are rooted where the factories, mines, and mills once were, and from where those who were united by common languages have long since relocated. Yet, these sobering truths do not add up to some sort of death sentence on larger

founded in the US Northeast during the large immigration waves of the late 19th and early 20th century, St. John's was an ethnically homogenous community seeking to retain the religious and cultural heritage of their former homeland. 21

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“Tribe is not always a component of a parish, and, over time, it is possible to let it go.” communities of faith or parishes in particular. In my research, writing, and presentations of recent years, I have become convinced that while change is both inevitable and necessary, “church” is far more durable and adaptable than many might believe. For my forthcoming book, I have gathered numerous cases of parishes merging, being adopted by others, reviving, reinventing, and otherwise renewing themselves. The legacy of a community— not only the property, but its faith, its place in the memory and history of a city or town, is precious. God works through, with, and in us. Nowhere is this seen more powerfully than in the life and work of the people of God, the church, in a particular place. The ways in which congregations find new lives are diverse and unbelievably creative. Sometimes a community may have to end a parish’s history but then be resurrected as part of a new community. This is more than merely closure and merger; rather, it is a kind of resurrection. More tribal communities sometimes muster strong resistance to even participating in jacob's well

services and other activities with members of another parish, thus blocking a new expression of the body of Christ, the church in that neighborhood. But such reinventions do occur. I have collected dozens of examples, from all over the country, in urban as well as smalltown settings. A Methodist church in Haw Creek, NC, near Asheville, turned its sanctuary, rectory, and educational rooms into a Commons, a space that is used on weekdays as well as for Sunday services. Some of the community activities housed there are studios for yoga, dance, woodworking, ceramics, and textile craft classes, and for community groups' meetings. There is also a commercial kitchen, soup kitchen, and food pantry. The rectory is a retreat house, while the outside property contains bee hives, a community garden, and a playground. A Presbyterian church in Tacoma, WA, with considerable space in its block of rooms, opened both afterschool care and tutoring programs, plus a soup kitchen and 22

community meeting space. The Lutheran church on the campus of my school in Manhattan (Baruch College, CUNY), was near to closing. However a new pastor and core of members decided to reach out anew in ministry to the neighborhood. Gutting the church house created a new space for a community nursery school as well as scouting programs, AA meetings, both Indonesian Lutheran and Jewish congregations, and parish education and meetings. A new connection with musicians will give rise to a regular concert series in the sanctuary, which of course remains the place for Sunday liturgy. The parish's rooting in the liturgy was the foundation for new forms of service to the wider community and a new sense of its being the body of Christ there in Gramercy Park. An example from the Orthodox world is the St. Mary of Egypt parish, in Kansas City, MO, which began in a neighborhood where no church would go—or stay. Over time, its pastors and people have followed St. Mother Maria Skobtsova’s example, where her houses of hospitality, which sheltered and fed and protected so many in need in wartime Paris, were centered on the Liturgy, the Eucharist, and prayer. It has partnered with Reconciliation Services, which provides mental-health counseling,

Cathedral of the Holy Virgin Protection

Kansas City, MO

East 2nd Street, NYC

(opposite page) Stacey Shannon-Bryce is

The Cathedral's façade bears architectural

baptized into Christ by Fr. Justin Mathews

witness to the dynamic change of

(right) and Fr. Turbo Qualls (left). In 1987,

religious life in New York City. Originally

a group of interdenominational and multiracial Christians formed a ministry called “Reconciliation Ministries” in the inner-

Photograph courtesy of St. Mary of Egypt Orthodox Church

city of Kansas City, Missouri. What began as an outreach to help the physical needs of the neighborhood gradually emerged into an Eastern Orthodox Christian community.

St. Mary of Egypt Orthodox Church

food for the poor, and help with rent and utilities, among other services. It is an essential part of the St. Mary of Egypt parish community. The bread of life is shared and then shared again for the life of the world around them. Other communities find ways to continue as “small congregations” that are very different from what they were decades ago. Still others find new life, just as the Gospels promise, in reaching out to their neighborhoods by making space for notfor-profit groups such as health clinics, employment centers, food and clothing pantries, and soup kitchens. FOCUS North America nationwide includes numerous examples in the Orthodox churches nationwide. There are parish communities in this diocese with similar stories to tell, some of which have been shared in the pages of Jacob’s Well and on the diocesan website. Every community has a rich history, and many have remade themselves since their beginnings 100 years ago or more. That a parish passes to another kind of service and identity is of the very nature of the koinonia, the fellowship or household of God planted in society. So many parishes here have experienced this since their planting by 19th-century immigrants and enduring two World Wars and a Great Depression. Founders of my own parish have described the journey of their home parish—the Cathedral of the Holy Virgin Protection on E. 2nd St. in Manhattan— from their childhoods seventy or more years ago to the present. This story is

a German Reformed Chuch, the building was purchased in the aftermath of the Russian Revolution by its current worship community. The mid- 20th century neon cross has since witnessed the ebb and flow of its community's life, into its current diverse and dynamic form.

repeated in my parish and many others whose histories stretch back many decades. But church endures.

as “repentance,” but it is much deeper and more intense—a transformation, a conversion, a profound change.

One could say that while the Church cannot simply hold on to the big basilicas and the parish structures and forms of earlier times, “the church is still in the house.” Tribe is not always a component of a parish, and, over time, it is possible to let it go. In fact, intermarriage and the welcoming of new members could be said to “de-tribalize” a congregation. In some places, various versions of “tribe” persist. But beyond the “tribe” and the extended multi-generational family, “church” is still the dwelling place of God among us, still the body of Christ, the bread for the life of the world. Christians still are made by water and the Spirit, still gather around the table of the Lord, and still become what they receive in the bread and cup. We still are “Christified,” as St. Mother Maria Skobtsova said, so that we may, in turn, be the face, hands, ears, and heart of Christ and His mercy to all around us. She wrote, echoing St. John Chrysostom, that there is a liturgy that continues “outside the church building,” a liturgy celebrated not on an altar of silver or gold but in the hearts of the neighbor, the brother and sister in need.

If “church” is about following the Lord, then our life as community must bear these qualities. Jesus constantly finds new moments of healing and of opening up God’s way, the Kingdom, in parables, and in images of farms, fishing, and family homes and villages. Church is Jesus alive, doing His Father’s work. That is the “new temple” in which we experience Spirit and Truth, not to be confused with old customs and routines, and with buildings that are homes for the Holy One but which cannot completely contain God. There will always be more places, spaces, and people the Lord can inhabit. Koinonia— community, in all its many aspects—is the continuing presence of God among us and the ongoing gift that God and we, as God’s people, can give to our world. Church is fast becoming one of the rare places where real community is found, where people of very different backgrounds, viewpoints, and experiences are able to demolish the walls between them, creating unity, communion, and community with God and each other and the rest of the world.

In the Gospels, Jesus honors all the rules and structures of His church, that of the holy people of God, Israel, the Temple, and the teachers. But the radical message of the Gospel is inversion—to turn things on their heads or inside out. It is metanoia, or t’shuvah, which we usually translate 23

The Reverend Dr. Michael Plekon is an emeritus professor of sociology at Baruch College in New York City, and an attached priest at St. Gregory the Theologian Church in Wappinger Falls, New York. He is the author of numerous books on sociology and religion.

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Illustration: Tagor Vojnovic

Orthodoxy & Nationalism by NICHOLAS SOOY

ne of the biggest contemporary concerns regarding Orthodoxy and tribalism is the relationship between Orthodoxy and nationalism. The nation is itself a kind of tribe. With the rise of global nationalism and populism, and the long-standing problem of nationalism in modern Orthodoxy, nationalism has become a hot topic in Orthodox circles. For example, in his explanation of the 1872 Synod of Constantinople, Metropolitan Ierotheos Vlachos said that “racialism and nationalism are foreign to the tradition of the Orthodox Church.” Meanwhile, here in America, a group of individuals (who have been excommunicated for heresy for violating the 1872 synod) have banded together under the banner of “Orthodox Nationalism.” But what is nationalism, and how should we as Orthodox Christians regard it? The central point to keep in mind is that in discussions of nationalism, regardless of whether it’s being praised or attacked, it’s about more than mere feelings of affection for one’s country. As with all -isms, nationalism is first and foremost an ideology. It is a system of beliefs about how the world should be organized. Nationalism involves two components: first, a definition of what constitutes the “nation,” and second, a belief that this nation is the most important association in guiding decisions about how to organize society and how to act in the social sphere.

Sometimes the nation is defined in ethnic terms, as with white nationalism. Or, it may be defined in terms of some constructed history. In the United States, for example, nationalist history begins with the first English-speaking colonists, who were here before the colonies were a country, but that history excludes other groups present during that same time period. Thus, the pilgrims are viewed as part of this history, while the Spanish colonization of Florida is not. Other versions define the nation in terms of economic associations, or even civic associations. Once the nation is defined, nationalism is then the belief that this group of people and the association that holds them together is central and should be the foundation for any government or political association. This ideology is relatively new. In the past, people did not give their first allegiance to some associated group called “the nation.” Rather, it was to a universal Empire (such as in China or Byzantium), or to a feudal prince, a chieftain, or a city. To wit, the word “politics” itself comes from the Greek polis, which means city. For the ancient Greeks (and therefore, to some extent, for the Byzantines), the city was the fundamental unit of political organization, and no one had yet thought of a nation. Once we realize this, we may begin to see why some in the Church have warned against nationalism. By elevating the nation to the basic and most important

“We denounce, censure, and condemn phyletism, to wit, racial discrimination and nationalistic disputes, rivalries, and dissensions in the Church of Christ, as antithetical to the teaching of the Gospel and the Sacred Canons of our Blessed Fathers . . . ”

1872 Council of Constantinople

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association, many other associations are relegated to second-class status, such as the family, the Church, one’s local community, or our shared humanity. While different definitions of nationalism might include religion, community, or family as constitutive elements, for every variety of nationalism, the nation is always more important than these other associations. While nationalism is, historically speaking, a new ideology, Christians have reflected on questions of political loyalty since the time of Christ. Repeatedly, Christian thinkers have warned that whatever loyalties we make on earth, everything is secondary to our fulfillment of the Gospel commands to love God and our neighbor. Thus, Christians should be suspicious of nationalism, not because Christianity is fundamentally opposed to the idea of nations, but because Christians should be suspicious of all ideologies. Christian commitments always take priority over ideological commitments, no matter how good or noble their bases might be. Thus, the Christian response to nationalism should be neither simple acceptance or simple rejection. The Christian position is not that the nation is fundamental, nor that religion or family are more fundamental than nation. While Christians can and should engage with society at all levels, including the national, the fundamental allegiance of Christians is to Christ. In his homily “On the Statutes,” St. John Chrysostom makes this point when talking about political allegiance:

is not of this kind; for it is impossible that he can be a partaker of it, who has not exhibited every virtue.

Chrysostom argues that our citizenship, our fundamental allegiances, and the foundations of our social action are heavenly. We should not be taken in by blind admiration for our city (or nation), or our compatriots simply because of our national identity. Our city and nation have many flaws; God alone is blameless. Chrysostom merely echoes a tradition dating back to the earliest Christians. We can see this most clearly in the important Epistle of Mathetes to Diognetus, dating from around 130. There, Mathetes writes: Christians

are

indistinguishable

from other people either by nationality, language or customs. They do not inhabit separate cities of their own, or speak a strange dialect, or follow some outlandish way of life… Unlike some other people, they champion no purely human doctrine. With regard to dress, food and manner of life in general, they follow the customs of whatever city they happen to be living in, whether it is Greek or foreign. And

yet

there

something

extraordinary about their lives. They live in their own countries as though they were only passing through. They play their full role as citizens, but labor under all the disabilities of aliens. Any country can be their homeland, but for

This strange inhabited distance towards associations is not simply an accidental feature of Christian love, but it is essential to it. Christians must be willing to transcend the boundaries and borders of belonging such that they love the “other,” the stranger, the poor, and even their enemies, for it is only in this way that the sin of Adam is overcome. As Metropolitan John Zizioulas has argued:

them their homeland, wherever it may be, is a foreign country . . . They pass their

There is a pathology built into the

If you are a Christian, no earthly

days upon earth, but they are citizens of

very roots of our existence, inherited

city is yours  .  .  .  Though we may gain

heaven. Obedient to the laws, they yet

through our birth, and that is the fear of

possession of the whole world, we are

live on a level that transcends the law.

the other. This is a result of the rejection

but strangers and sojourners in it all. We

Christians love all people . . . 

of the Other par excellence, our Creator,

are enrolled in heaven: our citizenship

by the first man, Adam. The essence of

despise such honor! But that City above

Early Christians thought of themselves as sojourners, wayfarers, refugees even, living in this world. They belong to heaven and are ambassadors of heaven to this world. As such they adapt to wherever they are, but always remain distant. Allegiance to their homeland is less important than the transcendent love which animates them, for the Kingdom of God is their true homeland.

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is there! Let us not, after the manner of little children, despise things that are great, and admire those which are little! Not our city’s greatness, but virtue of soul is our ornament and defense. If you suppose dignity to belong to a city, think how many persons must partake in this dignity, who are . . . depraved and full of ten thousand evil things, and at last

sin is the fear of the Other, which is part of the rejection of God. This results in fear of all otherness. We are not afraid simply of certain others, but even if we accept them, it is on the condition that they are somehow like ourselves . . . When we fear otherness, we identify difference with division. We divide our lives and human beings according to difference. We organize states, clubs, fraternities,

Illustration: Tagor Vojnovic

and even Churches on the basis of difference. When difference becomes division, communion is nothing but an arrangement for peaceful co-existence. It lasts only as long as mutual interests last and may easily be turned into confrontation and conflict as soon as these interests cease to coincide.

Similarity is not the true foundation of Christian love, for similarity rejects the other as an another, and demands conformity. Ultimately such love is only a form of self-love. True Christian love accepts all associations but recognizes that we must be distant from them to have the true love for all the Children of Adam, for all the icons of God in this world. With this in mind, it should be clear that the problem with nationalism is not nationalism as such, or the idea of a nation. The problem is that Christians cannot simply identify with any ideology or association as the foundation of our social life. The Christian response to nationalism is not to say that there is some better system, that nation is the wrong (or the right) thing on which

to base our society. The Christian instead should realize that whatever society is based on, Christian allegiances will always come first. Unfortunately, Orthodox Christians have not always lived up to this central teaching of the faith. Whether it has been loyalty to Byzantium, Imperial Russia, Hellenism, Arabic civil nationalism, or Balkan forms of nationalism, Orthodox Christians have often been swept up in ideologies that have overtaken our fundamental Christian loyalties. It was precisely this problem which led to the Synod of 1872. Be that as it may, Orthodox Christianity, especially in the so-called “diaspora” in the “west,” is in a unique position to fully live up to the Christian witness. As a predominantly immigrant Church in America, Orthodox Christians truly have been given renewed identity as strangers in a strange land. As such, the Church is at a critical juncture. If we ghettoize ourselves along nationalistic lines, whether Greek, Slavic, Arabic, or even American, we risk obsolescence. Demographic shifts and waning political

tides will prove these national struggles irrelevant in the long view of history. If, however, we live up to the prophetic witness of Christian loyalty, then we have the potential to become leaders in society, helping the modern world move past the excesses of modern nationalism.

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Nicholas Sooy is a PhD candidate in philosophy at the University of Fordham and the director of the North American branch of the Orthodox Peace Fellowship. He is a parishioner at St. Gregory the Theologian Orthodox Church in New York City.

10 RULES

for Talking Politics and Religion

by Rev. MATTHEW BROWN

1. Assume the person you are listening to knows something you don’t.

OK, so i stole THIS from Dr. Jordan Peterson's recent bestselling book, 12 Rules for Life. But when something is good, it belongs to everyone; there are no copyrights on truth. Discerning truth should always be our goal when conversing on matters like politics and religion—not being right or defeating our opponent. We like to think we have things figured out and have nothing to learn from, say, Republicans or Protestants. This can give us a sense of security. But what we lose is an opportunity to grow and learn. It’s difficult to assume your opponent knows something you don’t. It requires both inner security and humility. It must be a discipline, something you practice intentionally, even when it makes you feel vulnerable. The life of a Christian should be dynamic: a continual process of repentance, growth, and change. It is a series of miniature deaths and resurrections, in which our prior beliefs, concepts, and opinions must die so that truer ones can rise up. Consider these words of the Apostle Paul: “Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for jacob's well

which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me. Brethren, I do not count myself to have laid hold of it” (Phil. 3:12). 2. When the other person is talking, don’t be thinking about what you’ll say next.

In other words, set your ego aside, be quiet, and listen. Concentrate on and understand what the other person is saying. Don’t waste your time on debates; you’re probably not smart enough or informed enough on the topic. Most people aren’t. In this time of extreme polarization and outrage culture, we need genuine and honest conversation. Consider that no one adopts a new political allegiance or converts to a faith because they were overwhelmed by facts or mentally strongarmed. People come to belief in Christ through genuine, honest, and heartfelt conversation that connects them with another soul and, in that moment, catch a glimpse of the Divine. They listen, and open their hearts, when they sense that the other’s heart is equally open and has no other agenda but their welfare. Openness and honesty happen when someone feels totally free with another person, when no coercion or guilting is involved. Our egos render many of us poor at evangelization: Set yourself aside. 3. Don’t argue with idiots, because the people watching can’t tell who’s the idiot.

Arguing with an idiot makes you the idiot. Harsh? Perhaps, but it’s true. If you find yourself in such a situation, take it as a lesson in humility, politely end the conversation, and wish the other person well. Better yet, apologize for being an idiot. Perhaps they’ll see the light too, but if not, nothing will be lost. At least you’ll have saved your own soul. Take time to judge your emotional and mental state before jumping into a heated conversation or bringing up contentious topics. Is it late at night? Have you been drinking? Did you argue with your spouse earlier in the day? Was your day particularly stressful? Then don’t talk about politics or

Illustration: Tagor Vojnovic

Bald-faced lies are not our problem, but exaggerations and withholding of details are. We love to paint ourselves in the best light, to fudge the facts, and leave things out when we find it convenient to do so. Speaking the truth is hard, but for any conversation or heated discussion to be fruitful, it has to be truthful. Our chief concern should be our own truthfulness, not the other person’s. “Remove the plank from your own eye before the speck in your brothers” (Matt. 7:3). Even if a statement is kind and true, is there a reason to say it? What good will it do? Being right and changing nothing is a waste. Save your energy and use it in better ways. If you add up all the pointless, angry debates you’ve engaged in, they amount to a lot of wasted time—time you could have spent doing some actual good. We must stop and think before speaking on things like politics and religion. We must be disciplined with our speech, not haphazard and sloppy.

“The goal of a Christian is not to defeat our enemies but to win them as friends. Christ taught us that the only true enemy is death and sin, not our fellow man.” religion! Save it for when you are at your best and the other person is too. 4. Is it kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?

The kindness of our words has as much to do with how they are perceived by the hearer as with what we actually say. All too often, we fail to consider the relationship between the person we’re speaking with and the ideas we are debating. Thus, we must consider, and know, our audience in addition to considering our words. Some conversations devolve into unfruitful arguments because we failed to account for something about the other person. Maybe we were discussing the Church's traditional teaching on homosexuality and didn’t realize that the person has a child

5. Look for the good.

who is gay. Or perhaps we were talking over the Church’s stance on re-marriage and forgot that the person we are debating recently endured a divorce. Our content might have been on target but our timing and delivery was poor. Consider also your motives in any conversation. Scrutinize yourself and search out the real reasons you said what you did. The “old man” loves to hide and masquerade as good intentions. For example, if we strongly argue against abortion but our words somehow inflict injury, we will deflect any self-criticism on the pretense of “speaking the truth in love”. In this scenario we might be right, but we are not good. What we really wanted was to get that feeling of “being right” at the expense of another, whether or not it did them any real or lasting good. 29

People are rarely 100 percent wrong. There is usually some good and truth in their opinions. Even when you disagree, look for that common ground. Remember Christ’s command, “Forbid him not, for he that is not against us is for us” (Luke 9:50). Be open to the possibility that they might have some truth that you don’t. You might not be swayed to their position, but they might help you form a more nuanced and accurate position of your own. In failing to be open, we lose a chance to learn and connect. The goal of a Christian is not to defeat our enemies but to win them as friends. Christ taught us that the only true enemy is death and sin, not our fellow man. Find and affirm the good in others first, and you’ll be less likely to make the other blunders on this list. 6. Earn the right to have an opinion.

You are not very smart. That’s OK— I’m not either. Most of our opinions about politics and theology surpass our knowledge, experience, and character, which is why we should have few stronglyjacob's well

held opinions. Most political issues are dizzying in their complexity and in short supply of solutions, but too often we simplify them to make them manageable and give us a sense of control. It is a truism that the more intimately you’re involved with an issue, the more qualified and cautious your opinions will be; and the more ignorant you are, the more confident and simplistic you’ll be in your stance. You don’t have a right to have opinions. You have to earn them. It’s OK to say, “I don’t know enough to have an opinion.” Next time you're debating a subject, ask yourself: Have I worked in a related field or industry? Have I been professionally trained in a relevant discipline? Have I read the original sources? Or am I simply regurgitating anecdotes and talking points? Watching cable news and reading an article on Facebook probably isn’t enough to form a good opinion on, say, Britain’s exit from the European Union. For years I worked with parolees from the Michigan correctional system in a vocational rehabilitation program, and as a result, I have some strong opinions on aspects of the criminal justice system. More than most people, I have earned the right to those opinions. Recognize when someone has more experience, knowledge, or training than you. You might just learn something. You’ve got a lot of responsibilities, and the challenge of living a more virtuous and Christian life should occupy most of your time. Have opinions, but not too many. And have strong opinions only when you’ve earned them. 7. Avoid absolutes.

“heretic?” Other people’s views are usually more nuanced than you give them credit for. Hold yourself to a higher standard of speech. Your family and friends will thank you, and so will the internet. 8. Ask yourself: “Is there something

Oddly, all our dysfunctional conversations on religion and politics make us feel better in the moment, but they don’t make us well. Go to church, stop arguing with idiots, and get some real spiritual help. And don’t worry—you’re not alone. I need it too, so I’ll see you there.

better I should be doing with my time?”

Many of us find our lives boring and, consciously or not, we seek out drama to feel more significant. What makes us feel more significant than talking about the lofty and weighty matters of politics and religion? Most likely we are neglecting more important duties and more fruitful things to do so. In face-to-face conversations, don’t neglect personal matters before moving on to subjects like President Trump’s latest tweets. Politics can distract us from more important matters, such as how my friend is dealing with her recent job loss, or how she is managing caring for her aging parents. Before speaking, ask yourself, “Why am I having this conversation?” 9. Don’t comment online unless you’ve read the article first.

This one is simple: Don’t be lazy. Do your homework. When reading dueling comments on a Facebook post about an article I’ll often think, “There’s no way all these angry people fighting in my Facebook thread read the whole article.” Restrain yourself from reacting to an inflammatory comment until you’ve read the article and taken some time to think about it. De Slechte Zaaier (The Bad Sower)

Absolutes are the lazy man’s crutch, the angry man’s modus operandi. They’re seldom accurate. Using words such as “always,” “never,” “the worst ever,” or “everyone” might be a sign that you feel you’re losing the argument. Also, avoid ad hominem attacks. It’s not only children who call people names when they get upset. You probably do it a lot more than you think—take a quick scroll through your own Facebook history for proof. Have you used words such as “fascist,” “elitist,” or

10. Don’t “preach to the choir.”

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This happens both online and in the real world. It feels so good to tear down the beliefs and arguments of our “enemies” when they are not present. All that insecurity and dysfunction in our life fades away for a moment. But it’s pathetic, so knock it off. This is an easy mistake to make. Sometimes the conversation didn’t start out that way, but it morphs into it. If it does simply change the topic.

Gustav Van de Woestijne Oil on panel, 1908 Collectie De Bode

Tribalism and Psychotherapy: An Interview with Fr. Panayiotis Tekosis

by NICK TABOR

Not much, strictly speaking, but it does relate to the notion of belonging. People come in because they're struggling

with notions of identity. It's something like, “I don't know who I am anymore.” After a while, when they start really developing their narrative and they’ve built rapport with the therapist, they'll say, “I’ve found my tribe”—and that's it. That's when we get it. My own clients work with me or my team because they have to. They’re told, “If you don't do the program, you lose custody of your children.” There is an identity at risk there: being a parent. When another person challenges something you take for granted, you have to ask yourself, "Are the things I’m doing part of me? Is this me? Does that define who I am?” And once that gets clarified, and the person says, “Yes, I am a parent, and I want to be a good parent”—then the question is, “Okay, what does that look like for you? What was that for you growing up?” So that sense of identity gets formulated. Then you have groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous, and there’s a sense of belonging there. People go voluntarily and buy into the mentality, the theory, the way of thinking. They build relationships, they have sponsors, they get chips for the number of days they’ve been sober. When someone has done the work, and they're really getting it, they will say, “Yes, that's my tribe. I have to go

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What’s your background?

I trained in existential psychotherapy in England, which involves considering insights from continental philosophy and seeing how that impacts the human person, while integrating those insights through established clinical procedures. The goal, as the therapist, is to always challenge oneself: to not stick with the obvious and to not put the client’s story in a box, because simply knowing what the problem is doesn’t give us the solution. The more therapists can do that, the better they can help clients move beyond the place where they feel stuck. I started working as a therapist in a secure mental health institution and then at outpatient facilities. When I moved to the United States, I had a private practice for a period. Currently I am supervising a team of therapists working on a contract with the Department of Human Services here in El Paso County. We support families who have issues with addiction and parenting. We support them in overcoming addiction and maintaining custody of their children. Does the term “tribalism” come up often in the world of psychotherapy?

there because it's good for me. These are my people.” How does that sense of belonging figure

into

childhood

development?

It provides a very basic need for safety. An infant has an expectation of being taken care of. When a baby cries, he doesn’t know any different. Everything is black and white in his experience. If he’s hungry, he screams. If he need to poop, he screams. There are no gradients. And someone comes and helps the infant to understand that that's okay, it's normal, he’s going to be okay. Now he belongs to this safety network. Gradually, he’s passed along to a grandmother, and then a cousin, an uncle, or an older sibling. The baby feels safe in all of these situations. He’s being carried, literally and emotionally. Growing up, you belong to a daycare, to a school. This becomes part of who you are, but also a safe place. You see it in the football team, you see it in college or the military. Let’s say you get a good job at a firm on Wall Street—that’s a tribe of its own kind. It grounds your sense of identity. Human beings are always looking for this stability, this equilibrium of safety. Adults are just grown-up children, right? And children are just very young human

“But in the context of the Church, the focus isn’t on who I am, over against the other person. Instead I focus on myself, who I am, and what I do to become closer to God.”

Yes. But this is where it can start manifesting itself in a negative way. You may have a convert who really wants to go to Church and worship, and to them it can feel exclusive. Another easy example of tribalism is in politics — the division between blue and red. You have the stereotypes: ‘I’m pro-life, pro-gun, and Christian.’ Then you have the more liberal approach, where it’s all about the choice — the freedom, really, to choose whatever, putting it in extremes. The need to be part of one or the other group, and to identify oneself with those categories. But in the context of the Church, the focus isn’t on who I am, over against the other person. Instead I focus on myself, who I am, and what I do to become closer to God. God is my measure; it’s not the other people who are bad or lacking something. For Christians, on a daily basis, it really is the journey of repentance.

word for the perpetrator to sit down and take accountability for their actions with respect to the victim — after a lot of preparation on both sides. What do we call that in the Church? We call it the Rite of Forgiveness. The human mind and heart really know what they need to do, but we’ve grown so far apart from our faith that now we’re finding new ways of getting there. When you come to Forgiveness Sunday, and you participate in the Rite of Forgiveness, it’s about owning the fact that I’m dropping the ball as a Christian every day — in my judgments, my thoughts, my criticisms of others. And that contributes in a very cosmic way to this tribalism. In Christ there’s none of that. It’s that constant battle. If you think of it, everything we have is from God. All my talents, all my skills, everything I’ve experienced, even the breath I’m taking in. The nothingness of a human being without God is very profound. You have to create something imaginary. Tribalism is really this core of something I need to maintain, because without it, like a true nun, or a true monk, I am nothing.

condition of belonging, to the negative

So the solution is that constant turning

You’re saying the ultimate solution is to

kind of tribalism — the practice of

inward — as in the prayer of St. Ephrem:

replace that tribal identity with God.

excluding or denigrating people who are

“Help me to see my own faults and not to

different from us?

judge my brother.”

Well, I might run the risk of sounding like a pastor now. Nothing we do is free from our fallen human condition, right? I mean, think of the Jews in the Bible. They have enemies, and their tribe is effectively the (Old Testament) Church. They follow all the ordinances and have strict rules about how they do things. And then there are those outside. So it starts from the very beginning. You can argue that this is a good thing: You keep the truth intact, and those who don't know the truth get kicked out, because they will infiltrate the truth and spoil it. But if you go to a Greek Orthodox church — and I can speak to this because I am Greek — they’ll want to know if you have any connection to the Greeks, whether your grandpa or grandma was Greek or whatever. It’s become a little bit of a caricature.

Yes. In the Church, through its services, and through these journeys of repentance during the fasts, we are really called to look inward, in relation to Christ. The Samaritan woman who met Christ at the well was from a different tribe and a different tradition, and there was a conviction that the Samaritans were wrong. Christ Himself doesn’t deny that they are wrong — but He moves beyond that. Sometimes we get caught up in that tribalism. “I’m on the right side, and I know it, factually, because I’m educated,” or whatever. The challenge is to not just stay with that. That will always tarnish the journey of repentance. It will always get in the way. You’d be surprised: even in the secular context of psychotherapy counseling, the final stage in any trauma work is known as the “clarification.” It’s a fancy

Yes. Humanity is the tribe, really, and it’s a tribe that has been saved by God. God is my anchor, but more concretely, in the here and now, the other person is my anchor. That’s where Christ manifests Himself for me at that moment.

beings. The need for safety is no different for either; it’s just that we don't process it the same way. It’s why we care so much about job security and benefits at work. We don’t want to be anxious—anxiety is the worst enemy.

Up in New York and New Jersey, we have old stories about Slavic immigrants becoming Orthodox after coming to the United States — because the Church was where all the other Russians, Ukrainians, or Serbs were.

How do we get from this necessary

The Reverend Panayiotis Tekosis is a psychotherapist and an associate priest at Holy Theophany Orthodox Church in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

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St. Nilus and the Rewards of Asceticism by Rev. STEPHEN MUSE

he advice of the Desert Fathers, who lived in the Egyptian wilderness in the fourth and fifth centuries, doesn’t always translate well for laypeople. Their writings are full of stories about living for weeks on little food or water, going without clothing, and shuttering themselves in remote caves. But some of their sayings do resonate for 21stcentury Americans as much as they would have resonated for their contemporaries. One example is Abba Nilus, a spiritual son of St. John Chrysostom, who left Constantinople for Mount Sinai around the year 400 and lived out the rest of his life as a monk. “Do not be always wanting everything to turn out as you think it should,” Abba Nilus said, “but rather as God pleases, then you will be undisturbed and thankful in your prayer.” [1] “Undisturbed and thankful” are qualities we usually associate with enjoying the blessings of life—good food, good reputation, good health, financial resources, and the successful pursuit of worldly happiness. But these aren’t the kinds of blessings to which our Abba points. Take the survivors of gulags and concentration camps—including Fr. George Calciu, Fr. Arseny, Fr. Roman Braga, Elie Wiesel, Viktor Frankl, Corrie Ten Boom and others—who endured years of torture and solitary confinement to emerge not defeated, but rather enlivened and even sanctified in the midst of conditions

that proved destructive for others. They discovered what St. Paul learned from the Holy Spirit, Who revealed to him in his affliction, “My Grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in your weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). Jacques Lusseyran, a blind survivor of the Buchenwald concentration camp in Germany, observed that “the self-centered life has no place in the world of the deported. You must go beyond it, lay hold of something outside yourself…how does one account for the fact that Dietrich, the German criminal, arrested seven years before for strangling his mother and his wife, had turned brave and generous? Why was he sharing his bread with others with the risk of dying sooner?” [2] There is a great mystery hidden in this paradox. Among the hardest lessons to learn in life is that my will is not God’s will and my human presumption of righteousness is maintained only without having reference to God’s. “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” reveals a different path; one that involves lifelong repentance, prayer, and conscious struggle based on faith in Christ, Whose life reveals the presence of God most clearly at the point of His greatest weakness and when He seems most absent—on the Cross. Suffering provides an opportunity to go deeper into the mystery of the Cross, which is planted at the intersection of human justice and divine love and

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mercy. It’s situated between self-love and temporary, worldly satisfaction on the one hand; and on the other, as a peace that comes “not as the world gives,” but in Christ, Who has conquered the world by His free embrace of involuntary suffering for love. In the midst of all the injustice and unfairness unleashed against Him as the events of His Passion unfolded, Jesus showed us the path that leads to life. “No one takes My life away from Me, I give it” (Deut. 30:19). Involuntary suffering is not a reaction. It is a conscious act of freedom that offers an opportunity to discover a peace that is deeper than worldly satisfaction and human achievement. When disasters and injustices befall us, we face two kinds of temptations in our protest against injustice. We may become crusaders fueled by passions of pride, self-righteousness, resentment, and even vindictiveness, becoming servants of the very evils we are seeking to condemn and correct in others. One dog cannot stop another dog from barking by barking louder. At the other extreme, we can slide into passivity and resignation with the justification of our response being “spiritual.” Humility, joy, love, gratefulness, and patience, in good circumstances and bad, are signs of true faith and hope in Christ, and they are never paraded about as something to get credit for. Suffice to say that apart from our relationship with Christ, a host of passions will assail us in our suffering, multiplying like swarming bacteria, as we try to have our own way and justify ourselves—rather than entering the way of the Cross He sets before us as the path to resurrection. Jesus counseled us to be as gentle as doves, but also to be as shrewd as serpents, to recognize the deception around us and within us. He Himself did the same. When a mob wanted to throw Jesus over a cliff, He avoided it (Lk 4:29). When His brothers encouraged Him to reveal Himself openly

1. The Sayings of the Desert Fathers: The Alphabetical Collection, trans. Benedicta Ward SLG (Liturgical Press, 1975), 154. 2. Lusseyran, J. And There Was Light, (Morning Light Press, revised. 2006), 300-301 3. The Philokalia: The Complete Text (Vol. 1), trans. G. E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard, Kallistos Ware, (Faber & Faber, 1983) 114.

After taking whatever practical measures we can to correct injustice, we embrace as “necessary suffering” the involuntary pain and obstacles we cannot change by human means alone. This ascetical forbearance becomes an opportunity for a deeper relationship and trust in God arising through repentance. In patience, we contribute our forbearance and wait expectantly for a transformation of our deepest selves, as in the bread and wine which become the Body and Blood of Christ while remaining bread and wine. This cannot be accomplished by our own actions alone, nor does God transform us without our participation. We are drawn by Grace toward a “peace that passes human understanding” according to the mysterious loving providence of God and in a manner we cannot fully discern, but for which we are immensely grateful. The narrow Way that leads beyond slavery to worldly human satisfactions to the freely embraced gift of eternal life in communion with Christ is that which St. Nilus points toward. It takes great patience and willingness to trust God’s love for us in all things; to willingly share the Cross of suffering while we continue to live with vigor, interest, hope, and joy, praying “Glory to God” in all circumstances. Consciously choosing to endure involuntary suffering as a mercy of God, in response to Grace, is an essential ingredient to the process by which pride and vainglorious trust in our own selfimportance are slowly rooted out. But more than this, when we endure affliction in faith, it is not merely for our own sakes, but for Christ who has done this for us. St. Mark the Ascetic even goes as far as to say, “To accept an affliction for God’s sake is a genuine act of holiness; for true love is tested by adversities.” [3] In this way we are ushered into the Way of love and mercy that is True and leads to Life eternal.

The Reverend Stephen Muse is a therapist and pastoral counselor and a deacon at Holy Trinity Orthodox Church

in Jerusalem during the feast before His time, which would have proved dangerous to Him, He declined and approached the same situation ”secretly” ( Jn 7:10). Where there was cruelty justified by correctness, He showed mercy leading to repentance to

be the greater virtue, protecting the guilty ( Jn 8:7). He took steps to ease human suffering wherever He found it, even when it meant violating lesser aspects of the law, such as healing on the Sabbath ( Jn. 5:10; Lk 14:4). 35

in Columbus, Ohio. He is the author of numerous books and has a blog at http://orthodoxcolumbus.com/blog. This article originally appeared on the website www.orthodoxcolumbus.org.

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Ways to Pray The Hardest One Is a Little Like Doing Science

by DESIREE SCORCIA

Illustration: Sophie Maliniak

was thinking about prayer the other day and feeling some good, old-fashioned Catholic guilt for not doing it often enough. But once I moved past guilt, I started thinking about how it can be divided into several different categories. First, there’s my personal go-to: the Stream-of- Consciousness/RunningMonologue/Brain Dump prayer. It sounds something like, “Dear God, I don’t know what I’m getting myself into or how I’m going to find the time for this thing I’m considering adding into my life. It’s probably not a good idea and You probably know that, but…” I fall back on this mode of prayer when I’m stressed and overwhelmed. In this mode, God is my therapist, and I really just need Him to listen while I work through whatever is troubling me. It involves a great deal of rambling. Then, there’s the Specific Request/ Make My Case prayer. I know you know this one. It sounds more like, “Dear God, please let this project of mine go exactly as planned. It’d be really good for everyone, and I have a million good reasons that You should definitely hear out...” This is my second most common mode of prayer. Here, I’m the lawyer and God is the judge, and I’ve got a sound case to make to Him. I’m still doing the talking here, and He’s still doing the listening. Finally, there’s that much more difficult form of meditative prayer that I think we all aspire to but often forget: the Quiet Listening mode. This one takes the most practice. It’s when you quiet that frantic voice, open your mind and heart, and wait to hear God’s voice.

It might seem counterintuitive, but the process of performing an experiment strongly resembles the process of meditative prayer. When you perform an experiment, you carefully set up initial conditions so that absolutely everything is the same except the one variable whose effects you want to study. Say, for example, you’re investigating how a new plant food effects plants. You make sure they’re potted in the same soil, getting the exact same amount of sunlight and water— everything. The only difference is that one gets the new plant food and the other doesn’t. Then comes the really hard part: staying out of it. You have to wait, watch, and listen. You have to measure your plants every day and record the data. No matter how badly you want your hypothesis to be right, you have to quiet that part of your brain and let the data speak. It is, in fact, so hard to stay out of the experiment and not subconsciously affect the results that scientists set up what’s called “blinding.” In the plant example, that would mean the person measuring the plants doesn’t know which one is getting the new plant food and which is getting just plain old water. Or, if it’s a study of a new drug, it could be that neither the doctor nor the patient know whether the patient is getting the new experimental drug, the old one, or a placebo. In science, you have to be still, keep your desires out of it, and let the truth reveal itself to you. This part is just as hard in science as it is in prayer, which is why we so often read about studies that showed associations between one factor and another being debunked years later. For example, those

fish-oil pills I took while pregnant with my daughter probably did nothing for her brain, despite what the prevalent thought about them was at the time. As with meditative prayer, you can’t listen to your objective data for just a few minutes and then lapse into the very human habit of convincing yourself that you already knew the answer. You must work diligently to separate your hopes for and biases about the end result from the actual, objective end result itself. Of course, you might not like what the data ends up telling you. It might be the exact opposite of what you were hoping to learn. Yet, you must resist any impulse to insert yourself and your desires into your work. Quiet your mind, and just keep listening. Just like with prayer.

Desiree Scorcia is an assistant director of the Boothbay Harbor Memorial Library and a former physics teacher. She is a parishioner at Our Lady Queen of Peace Catholic Church in Boothbay Harbor, Maine.

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by Matushka KATHRYN LOS TEKOSIS

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aybe sundays used to be your favorite day; you attended your local church, perhaps sang in the choir, and got through the Liturgy mostly without distractions. You generally had a good feeling about your spiritual state and considered yourself to be a pious and attentive worshiper. Enter children: After a sleepless night, you're arguing with your kids about their church clothes, trying to get them to stop fighting on the way to church, arriving late, and spending most of the service keeping them in line. People are distracted by your kids' commotion, and you're feeling like being there is pointless because you're not praying anyway. You know you cannot manipulate your kids into wanting to be in church by using threats, bribes, time-outs, or corporal punishment.

Photo: ÂŠ Adobe Stock / makam1969

Worshipping with Our Children

It's time to take a step back and begin to change your perspective. Repeat after me: 1. My children are full members of the Orthodox Church 2. Their childhood is a period of time when I will worship with my feet 3. Sunday is no longer a day of rest

It's important to remember that in the Orthodox Church, children, even infants, are considered full members. Unlike other religious traditions where children are received at a certain age, or conveniently tucked away at Sunday School during the service, our Orthodox Church teaches that children are equal to adults in their participation in the Sacraments, in their souls’ longing for Christ, and in their potential for holiness. This understanding will help us as parents to simply treat our children as we would any "special needs" worshippers. We've all had experiences worshipping with adults who have special needs: those who are wheelchair-bound, blind, or deaf; those who can't stand for long or are sensitive to loud sounds or clouds of incense. Our children are not yet fully developed; they have short attention spans, cannot keep the fast, need frequent bathroom breaks, and lack fine motor skills and spatial awareness. Let's extend the same kindness to our children for their developmental "shortcomings" as we do towards any adult in the church. Furthermore, it’s good to remember that our children are not extensions of ourselves. Each person is unique and precious in the eyes of God. As they grow, they will develop their own relationship with Him, and eventually will choose whether or not to keep the faith. We parents can bring them to church and guide them but we must allow them to experience and grow in the faith separately from us. When our ego is tied up in their behavior and "performance," we cannot be free to really help them on this journey.

Participating in services looks different for parents than it did BC (before children). Our worship is more active physically, and more sacrificial. As in all the other hours of parenting, we learn to grab small opportunities for prayer as they arise; it could be in the car, during a nighttime feed, or while washing dishes. In church it’s harder to quietly participate in the service, but we can strive for a prayerful attitude while we're there. For some this means singing along while holding a squirmy child, while for others it means maintaining inner peace instead of reacting angrily or punitively when our child is challenging. Perhaps it means inwardly saying the Jesus Prayer as we escort our child to the bathroom for what seems like the hundredth time.

traditions. Let’s renew our excitement about our faith and bring this energy to church as we attend with our children. They gift us the wonderful opportunity of seeing the church through a different lens. Our children’s view is fresh, pure, and full of wonder. They are not fatigued, burdened, and conditioned as we adults sometimes are, and can approach the services with simplicity, soaking up God’s presence with all their senses. Let’s shed the expectations of quiet worship and uninterrupted conversations at coffee hour. Our children are welcome and belong in the church community. We can learn so much from each other; old and young can practice tolerance and forgiveness, and the nuclear family can bask in the warmth of the community it so desperately needs.

Our offering to God and the community is our diligence in attending services and practicing patience and forgiveness. During the intense parenting years, our actions speak louder than our words. We may say we love being in church and demand that our children join us, but if it's a place where they only experience us being angry and mean-spirited, they won’t want to be there. We may preach about the spiritual benefits of fasting, but if we are miserable and complain often during the fasts, this is the association our children will make. We lead by example. If we want to raise kind, generous, compassionate people, we parents need to cultivate these qualities in ourselves. This isn’t contradictory to setting boundaries for behavior in church. Our children look to us for guidance and we can model appropriate behavior as well as peacefully communicate it, in an ageappropriate way.

Re-adjusting our perspectives and embracing our current circumstances will save us much angst. Accepting our circumstances, and facing them with bravery and humility, will provide our children with a healthy understanding of what it means to lead a Christian life.

Matushka Kathryn Los Tekosis is a doula and the wife of Panayiotis Tekosis, a priest at Holy Theophany Orthodox Church in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Before children began enriching our lives, Sunday was the day we could worship in church, socialize at coffee hour, and enjoy a PLN (post-liturgical nap). Nowadays Sunday looks different; as the PLN fades into a sweet, distant memory, it’s time to embrace new family

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The AINT who refused to be Commander-in-Chief

St. Cybi Mural in Holyhead, Anglesey, Wales, UK

by NICHOLAS SOOY

hen considering the relationship between politics and Christianity, one of my favorite witnesses is that of St. Cybi the Tanned. His feast is November 8, which is right around when elections are usually held in the United States. St. Cybi, born in 483, was the son of Salomon, a warrior king in Wales. Cybi left his home at a young age and traveled to Jerusalem and Rome to venerate the holy sites of Christianity. During his travels, he was ordained to the holy priesthood and consecrated as a bishop. Upon returning home, he found he had inherited both his father’s throne and command of his army. But he refused to accept these positions. He refused to be the commander-in-chief. In the Church, we confess Jesus as our King, our ruler. At various times during Church history, this has distinguished Christians as a peculiar people. St. Theagenes of Parium, for example, who lived during the reign of St. Constantine, was martyred for refusing to pledge allegiance to Constantine’s co-emperor Licinius. St. Theagenes said, “I serve my King, and I cannot serve another . . . I am a Christian, and it is not possible for me to desert my Lord and King.” In another of my favorite anecdotes, a reporter in Russia interviewed a monk after the fall of communism. When asked if he was glad

that the oppression had ceased and that a better government was now in place, the monk replied that it did not make much difference to him. He said he was only surprised that it happened during his lifetime. He told the reporter that earthly kingdoms come and go, and we should care little for these, for our hope is in the eternal Kingdom. Christians were often reviled in the Roman empire for proclaiming that Jesus was King. They were called atheists for refusing to worship the imperial gods. And to the Roman authorities, their proclamation that Jesus was King often implied that Caesar was not. St. Luke records the anxiety that some had about Christians in the Book of Acts: “These who have turned the world upside down have come here too… and these are all acting contrary to the decrees of Caesar, saying there is another king—Jesus.” St. Cybi is not the only saint who has refused to rule because of his Christianity. St. Cadoc, a contemporary of Cybi who lived near him, also refused to succeed his father as king or to command his father’s army. Similarly, in 155, in one of the earliest works of Christian apologetics, a disciple of St. Justin named Tatian writes: “I do not wish to be a ruler. I do not strive for wealth. I refuse offices connected with military command.” Such a sentiment is not that

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far off from what Jesus himself practiced. Before Christ began His ministry, He went off into the wilderness to fast and pray. There, Christ faced temptations sent by Satan, each of which challenged Him to display His divine power in ways that many contemporaries expected Him to, performing great miracles and conquering the world to rule it as Messiah and King. Christ refused these temptations, choosing to be a different type of Messiah, a different type of King. The Evangelists Matthew (4:1-11) and Luke (4:1-13) tell us that had Christ succumbed to these temptations, doing so would not have served God but rather Satan. “The devil took [ Jesus] to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” None of the disciples were there to witness Christ’s temptations, but surely Jesus told them of the event. It is likely that He wanted them to know just what kind of Messiah He was to be. In turn, the evangelists placed the event early in their narratives to signal the same to us. But not all of His disciples got the point. One tradition states that Judas betrayed Christ not because he hated Him or did not believe in Him. Rather, Judas was fed up with Christ not fulfilling the Messianic prophecies. Judas was likely a Zealot, who

wanted the Messiah to rise up and conquer the Roman empire and rule as King in their place. Perhaps Judas thought that if the Romans came to arrest Jesus, it would force His hand to incite revolt. Similarly, perhaps St. Peter had this notion in the back of his mind as he drew his sword and cut off a soldier’s ear. Yet again Christ broke with expectations, healing the soldier and reprimanding Peter. What, then, are we to make of St. Cybi and the rest of these traditions? Should we conclude that temporal rule is always incompatible with Christianity? Some may do so, and there is evidence that many saints thought as much, but this is not that kind of essay. There are in the Christian tradition many saints who were rulers. I’m particularly fond of the saying of St. Vladimir, the great Christian prince:

while others are laypeople. But whatever your attitude toward politics, the life and witness of St. Cybi remains relevant. The witness of the saints should redirect our lives towards greater piety and a deeper life in Christ. Thus, in remembrance of St. Cybi we should prayerfully examine ourselves and our conscience. Where do we place our hope? Is it in rulers and in princes — in whom, as the psalmist reminds us, “there is no salvation?” Though we may not suffer martyrdom for proclaiming Christ as King, we still may ask ourselves: Do we really behave as if Christ were the King of our lives? How often over the past several years have we talked about Donald Trump and his political opponents? How many hours have we spent watching clips of them, reading about their activities, attending

"Above all things: do not forget the

poor but support them to the extent of your means. Give to the orphan, protect the widow, and permit the mighty to destroy no man. Take not the life of the just or the unjust, nor permit him to be killed. Destroy no Christian soul, even though he be guilty of murder."

With these lines, I do not intend to criticize any Christian who seeks higher office (Lord knows that they will get plenty of criticism without my help). Nor is it meant to discourage anyone from participating in politics or voting. I vote whenever I can, with St. Vladimir’s words in mind, using my vote to support the poor, protect the widow, and to keep the mighty from destroying men and from taking the lives of the just and the unjust. But many of my Orthodox friends never vote, because for them, their faith means living as citizens of another Kingdom. The word “vote” shares the same root as “devotion,” after all. Some of these friends are monastics and clergy who refrain from voting as an expression of their tonsures,

events, or donating to their campaigns? How many times have we promoted or condemned them on social media? Conversely, how often have we talked about Jesus Christ? How many hours have we spent praying to Him; reading the Gospels; attending Church; giving our money and time to meet Him in the poor, the prisoner, the sick, and the hungry? How many social media posts have we made promoting Christ? How anxious are we about politics? In the Gospel of Matthew, Christ tells us, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat, nor about your body, what you shall put on… For all the nations of the world seek these things; and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, 41

seek His Kingdom, and these things shall be yours as well.” Are we mindful of this, or do we seek what all the nations of the world seek? Though we may vote and throw our lot in with the nations of this world, we should not forget to devote ourselves to Christ first and foremost. We should not allow political divisions to keep us from loving others or allow politics to inspire hate for our brethren. We proclaim that there is another King (or another President) named Jesus whenever we place the Kingdom first, whenever we choose love over hate, forgiveness over revenge, and charity over greed. We pledge our allegiance to Christ whenever we live according to the Beatitudes rather than the virtues of the world and choose mercy over severity, peacemaking over warmongering, meekness over strength, and poverty over wealth. How we live before and after Election Day matters far more than how we vote. We live according to the words of the anonymous second-century Christian apologist who wrote, “The Christians dwell in their own countries, but only as sojourners; they bear their share in all things as citizens, and they endure all hardships as strangers. Every foreign country is a fatherland to them, and every fatherland is foreign.” We share in the responsibilities of this world as citizens even as we are strangers to it. St. Cybi was called “the tanned” because he would often walk facing the sun, and so his skin grew dark. The Church teaches that Christ is “the Sun of righteousness” and that if we spend our life seeking Him, we will glow with the radiance of His light. Let us then seek to always hold the Sun before us, above all else. Let us walk in this light and not stray towards any other goal. May St. Cybi give us the strength to walk facing the Son of God, seeking not to rule others, but to be ruled by our Lord.

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“Shine, Shine, New Jerusalem”: The Spirit of the Pentecostarion

by Rev. Dr. PATRICK BAUMGARTH

amilies of liturgical rites are akin to languages. The western Catholic Church has made so many changes to its liturgical calendar within the past century, by pruning it of what some would call clutter, that if it were a language, it would most closely resemble Esperanto. On the other hand, the organically developing tongues, such as French, Italian, and Russian, are more analogous to the Orthodox Liturgy.

early as the first century. The original Paschal service was written by the early bishop Melito of Sardis, and it seems to be more ancient than St. John’s Gospel. It was a prayerful commentary on scriptural readings, such as the passages in Exodus relevant to the Passover, the creation account in Genesis, and Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac. These passages continue to be read in both the Orthodox service of Great Saturday and in its Roman Catholic counterpart.

those who commemorated it once a year, no matter what the day of the week, and those celebrating it weekly on Sunday. The early Roman Christians apparently didn’t know about the yearly commemoration, but only the Sunday observance. When Rome began such a yearly commemoration, it connected this with a Sunday. Eventually the first Council of Nicea declared it should be done this way everywhere.

Pascha, the Feast of feasts, the Celebration of celebrations, is the template for all other feasts of the Orthodox Church. Every feast has a pre-festal period (similar to Lent), the celebration of the feast itself (like Pascha), and an after-feast (think of Bright Week). This model took centuries to develop. Originally, the preparation for Pascha included only Holy Week, and the 40-day fast commemorating the Lord’s sojourn in the wilderness—what we now know as Lent—happened right after Theophany. Later the fast was moved to the spring. Also, in the ancient world, the festal continuation of Paschal joy, where we don’t fast or kneel, extended from Pascha itself to the Sunday of Pentecost.

An early dispute arose regarding when to celebrate the Paschal Service: at the very hour the Jews were celebrating Passover, or after the Jewish Seder—the meal that marks the beginning of Passover—was completed. At any rate, the Christians, just as the Jewish observers of Passover, would have fasted all day until the conclusion of their nocturnal celebration. That celebration included lessons from the Scriptures, a Eucharistic rite, and a festive meal. When, much later, the Paschal rite was permanently assigned to a Sunday, that fasting characterized the preceding Saturday: hence the tradition that Great and Holy Saturday is the only Saturday of the year requiring fasting.

The week after Pascha maintains its resurrectional tone, both for the Orthodox, who term it Bright Week, and for the Westerners. The Sunday after Pascha is kept both in the West (where it was termed “Low Sunday”) and by the Orthodox as a commemoration of St. Thomas’s encounter with the Resurrected Lord.

Historical records show that Christians may have celebrated some version of Pascha as

The major dispute about the Paschal celebration seemed to have been between

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Great feasts on the Orthodox liturgical calendar are accompanied by a Synaxis, commemorating saints associated with that feast. But we can’t do a synaxis immediately after Pascha, because we’re busy with Bright Week and Thomas Sunday. So we wait until the third Sunday after Pascha to remember the Myrrhbearers, Joseph, and Nicodemus. At the conclusion of the third week, we leave behind the commemoration of the empty tomb.

Icon “All Creation Rejoices In Thee” Dionisy the Wise (c.1450-1520; active in Moscow after 1480) Egg tempera and gilt on wood The theme of the Sanctified Temple being associated with the Theotokos as embodiment of the Church is celebrated in this icon based on a hymn by St. John of Damascus (pictured holding scroll). While not directly connected to the services commemorated by the Pentacostarion (the hymn figures prominently in the Lenten liturgies of St. Basil), it is true to the Paschal season's spirit of healing and redemption manifested in the Church Age: The Christian is buried and raised with the triumphant Christ at Pascha, deified by the indwelling energies of the Holy Spirit bestowed at Pentecost, and lives with the expectant hope of joining the righteous souls (commemorated on the Sunday of All Saints) in the City of God.

At first blush, the next three Sundays (of the Paralytic, of the Samaritan Woman, and of the Blind Man) have nothing explicitly to do with the Resurrection. What are they doing there? Perhaps the link is that they all occur around Jewish feasts, or that they all involve healings, which could be a link to the power of the resurrected Lord in the lives of the faithful. But I have another theory. The clue, I believe, is in the Gospel reading for the ancient feast of Mid-Pentecost. It describes Christ teaching in the temple, during the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles— which was associated with water. On the feast itself, a procession moved from the pool of Siloam to the altar of the temple, where the high priest sprinkled water from Siloam onto the altar. It’s no coincidence that all three of these Sundays before Pentecost have themes also connected with water: The Paralytic is healed near the miraculous sheep pool; the blind man is healed at the pool of Siloam; and the Samaritan woman is

invited by Christ at a well to drink of a special water. This imagery also resonates with our Lord’s description of Himself as a source of exceptional water. The water theme also predominates at Pentecost, a traditional occasion for Baptism. Thus, I believe these Sundays function as a prefeast for Pentecost. The feast of the Ascension, which comes forty days after Pascha, centers on the Lord’s leave-taking of His flock and marks the end of the Paschal season. Then, on Pentecost, which occurs ten days later, we symbolically give back the feast in the form of the kneeling prayers. In antiquity, this would mark not only a return to kneeling, but to fasting as well. The week following Pentecost is now a fast-free one. But in the ancient world, the next fast—what we now know as the Apostles’ Fast—would have begun the day after Pentecost. Every major fast commemorated a Biblical figure: The Nativity was associated with Elijah, Great 43

Lent was associated with the Lord Jesus, and this final fast was associated with Moses, to mark the connection between the Jewish Pentecost and the giving of the Law. On the Sunday after Pentecost, the Church honors all of her members, both known and unknown, who now enjoy citizenship in the heavenly Jerusalem. On that day, she also concludes her use of the Pentecostarion, and it will not be until the Sunday of the Pharisee and the Publican that She will again chant from those liturgical books that center upon the Lord’s Passion and Resurrection. To Him be all honor and glory!

The Reverend Dr. Patrick Baumgarth is an associate professor of political science at Fordham University and a deacon at the Cathedral of the Holy Virgin Protection in New York City.

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Trinity

and the Cosmos: An Interview with Planetary Geologist Kirby Runyon

by NICK TABOR

What exactly does a planetary geologist

Was there ever a period where you felt like

do?

science and your faith were in tension?

I study the landscapes and rock formations on other planets, moons, and asteroids throughout the solar system, mostly using images that come back from robotic spacecraft. A good chunk of what I've worked on is studying the effects of windblown sand—on Mars, on Saturn’s largest moon, and on Pluto. It creates these beautifully carved formations. I also study the effects of impact cratering, so I'm doing a big project on the moon right now.

Yeah, I was raised in an evangelical Methodist home. I accepted faith in Christ around age ten or eleven, and I've grown in my faith since then. I ultimately landed in Anglicanism, which, for me, was a good balance of modern and ancient.

Yeah. It was mostly in my growingup years, because my parents taught me young-earth creationism. I would read NASA press releases, or kids’ books on science, that would talk about galaxies being billions of years old, or billions of light years away, meaning that it took light billions of years to get to Earth from those galaxies. I would always mentally edit that—Well, it must be something less than 6,000 years, because that's how old the universe is. Around age 12, I discovered a ministry called Reasons to Believe, which was headed up by a Christian astrophysicist. He had come to faith in Christ in his late teens, and he saw harmony between what we know in modern astrophysics, including the whole billions-of-years-old thing, and the Bible. He didn't get hung up on a very Western, scientific reading of Genesis. That really set me free to accept much of modern science. But as of graduate school, I still did not accept biological evolution. I still thought that that was in tension with Christian faith. It was largely through another ministry started up by Francis Collins, the current director of the National Institutes of Health. He's a solid Christian. I also had to be a teaching assistant for a class called Evolution and Extinction, which got me grappling with the theory of evolution. For the first time, I really paid

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What inspired you to get into this kind of work?

I just always loved space, at least since I was three years old. The twelve astronauts who walked on the Moon between 1969 and 1972 have always fascinated me. I’m also interested in things like the Hubble Space Telescope that can peer out into the distant, distant universe, and radio telescopes that can see quasars over 10 billion light years away. I don't do any of that professionally—I just enjoy hearing about it. Were you raised in a Christian home?

attention to the scientific evidence for it. At the same time, I was reading the Bible, and I really didn't see any contradictions or incompatibilities. If evolution is true, then it’s simply the mechanism God chose to create life. I believe that evolution—and, in fact, all known scientific processes—are simply nature's way of being obedient to God's creative will. On some level, the universe evolves in response to God's wooing love. I’ve never heard it expressed that way.

Well, look, at the heart of the Christian message is God's love: how God loves Himself among the three Persons of the Trinity, and how that love explodes out into the angelic realm, and also into the cosmos and into our lives. What have been your most profound experiences as a geologist?

There are two that come to mind. For one, last November, I was very blessed to spend some time in northwest Argentina, in the plateau of the Andes mountains. It’s high-altitude desert with almost no vegetation. It’s a volcanic landscape. As ash from a volcano gets deposited, all these little rock fragments basically weld themselves together. Volcanic rock has lots of little bubbles that get frozen in place as the lava cools. And then at this plateau in Argentina, those formations had subsequently been sandblasted to heck—so the landscape is very similar to huge swaths of Mars.

God the Creator of the Earth Heures de Louis de Laval, Ms Lat.920, f°2r Illumination on parchment, c. 1480-1485 Bibliothèque Nationale de France

I went there to study this with some other geologists. We had to drive off-road for hours to get to our site. I emerged every morning from my tent and looked out across the desolate landscape of no plants, no trees, just rocks and sand, with the sun coming up, completely surrounded by mountains. I kept thinking about how gorgeous it was, and always feeling, Wow, I can't believe I'm here. If it weren’t for the color of the sky, you couldn't tell that I wasn't on Mars. Another experience that really stuck in my mind was in 2015, when NASA's New Horizon spacecraft flew past Pluto. I got to see some of the first high-resolution pictures that really zoomed in on small areas of the planet. I was sitting in, essentially, the geology mission control center, at my home institution in Maryland, looking at these images that were being beamed back from the spacecraft three billion miles away. One picture had already arrived of a vast glacial plane. Everyone was clustered around a computer monitor examining it. Meanwhile, I was downloading the next image. It showed mountains 10,000 feet tall, as if the Rocky Mountains were on Pluto—but they were made of ice. My jaw dropped. I announced to the room, "Hey guys, there are mountains on Pluto." No one seemed to hear me, so I said it again. Finally, someone turned and said, "Hey, look at Kirby's computer! There’s mountains on Pluto!" As far as I know, I was the first to discover those. 45

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Dr. Kirby Runyon, inside the rotunda of the Bloomberg Center for Physics and Astronomy at John Hopkins

Photograph courtesy of NASA / John Hopkins University Applied Physics

University.

Pluto High-resolution MVIC view of Pluto in enhanced color, illustrating variations in surface composition.

How has your scientific work informed

Sounds like it puts you in a worshipful

your faith?

state.

Romans 1:20 says, "What may be known about God, namely the eternal power and divine nature, has been revealed through what has been made." God's revelation is in nature. We get a taste of His omnipotence and love by doing science. There's practically a theological injunction in Romans 1 to do science, to look at the natural world. In the book of Job, in the Psalms, and in many other places throughout the Bible, God appeals to people's knowledge of the natural world to show them something about Him. God took Abram outside and said, "Count the stars if you can; so shall your offspring be." Genesis 1:31 reads, "God saw all that He had made, and indeed it was exceedingly good." And most of what God has made, in the physical realm, is not on planet Earth—most of it is out in space. We should all be moved to worship the triune God through what has been made, and to be motivated to go into fields of science, any field of science, partly just to revel in the beauty.

Totally, yeah. Recently, I feel like the Holy Spirit has revealed to me that, as much of a space geek as I am, He's even more of one. God and I are both space geeks. We both geek out about this stuff. That's one way that I can connect to the heart of the Father. Do any of your colleagues think it’s silly

well-established scientific principles for the sake of preserving God's role in the universe.

Kirby Runyon is a planetary geologist at Johns Hopkins University's Applied Physics Laboratory and is active at Church of the Resurrection in Lutherville, Maryland.

and outmoded to believe in God?

Probably some of my colleagues do think religion is silly or outmoded. One mindset is that if you have discovered an explanation for a scientific phenomenon, whether it’s the age of the earth or how life develops, or gravity, or whatever, you have just put God out of a job. The god of the gaps.

Yeah, and the god of the gaps is really horrible theology, but both atheists and Christians believe it. Young-earth creationists and atheists agree that if you can find an actual explanation, then you don't have God. As a result, you end up with young-earth creationists denying

Flammarion Engraving First published in L'atmosphère: Météorologie Populaire, Paris, Flammarion, 1888 Burin wood engraving

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Good Church Music Starts with Kids by MARIA SHEEHAN

have been a vocal music educator in some capacity for the past twenty years. I’ve taught pre-schoolers, retirees, and every age in between. I’ve taught folks with “no ear” and folks who have been making music for decades; my own family and total strangers. I love to work with beginners, though. We tend to think of beginners as young people. But in church music there is a huge population of adult singers who, though they’ve been singing in choirs for many years, still don’t really know what they’re doing. Their ear and their dedication have carried them through. I especially love to work with these students. I love to help them get to those wonderful “Oh, I get it!” moments! We all agree that church singers need training. And we also agree that we have to somehow teach our children about church singing, too. But that’s a tall order. It seems to require a ton of time, thought, energy, and staff. It implies that we need to add children’s choirs, adult music classes, and voice lessons to all the other things our small parishes try to do. Well, I’d like to offer a somewhat different perspective on this daunting task. My years of teaching have shown me that the training these “experienced beginners” need is near identical to the training that young musicians need. This has allowed me to successfully teach these two groups at the same time and collect some important observations. Most critically, it is my firm belief that children’s choirs are not necessarily the best way to create competent, active young church singers. I think a big mistake we make as music educators is that we relegate children to children’s choirs well past the age when it is necessary or appropriate. We’ve fallen into this as church communities as well. It’s easy to do when we simply follow the pattern of

modern schooling, in which children remain grouped by ages for their entire education. Then, once their education is complete, they enter the adult world and are deemed ready to participate in it. They switch from youth activities to adult activities, and, in the church, from youth choir to adult choir. (This attitude is lasting all the way through college now.) But I would like to propose a new model for nurturing young church singers. And I think church choirs are ideally poised to offer children what the educational system isn’t really built to be able to offer: inclusion in an important aspect of the adult world at a much younger age, inclusion in the spiritual and artistic adult world.

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Stage 1: Young children need to learn to sing

I’m not suggesting children’s choirs have no benefit to the young musician—quite the opposite. As children begin school (around age 5 or 6), they should also begin singing in a choir. It is at that age—when they can speak fluently and expressively but can’t yet easily write down what they’re saying—that their musical aptitude is most able to grow. Historically, singing games have been one of the primary pastimes of this period of childhood. At this age, children are cognitively and developmentally primed for choir singing. It can be a church, school, or community choir, so long as it provides the children with the necessary foundation. Young children should be learning songs by rote. They should be learning how not to yell when they sing (learning to use their head voice) and learning how to take singers’ breaths (proper support and breathing for vocalizing). Further, they should be memorizing a variety of songs

in different languages and learning how to sing together while following a leader. All young singers need this solid foundation and its construction should begin at a relatively early age. Stage 2: Older children should sing with adults

Around the time that their language skills begin to include grammar, and their writing becomes competent (around 9 or 10), they should begin to participate in more advanced ensembles. It’s this point of transition that I believe we have been neglecting for decades as music educators. This is when the children should join the adult singers. It is also when a musical apprenticeship, as it were, should begin in a church choir. Children should join in the music training that the adults receive. A quick aside regarding a single track of training for both adults and children. It’s more likely than not that the children will advance quite a lot faster than the adults! Not to worry, though, just the excitement of “being with the grown-ups” and doing what they’re doing as well as they are doing it will keep the children engaged and active while the adults limp along. It’s also interesting to note that in the great male choirs throughout history, the average age of a boy chorister has been 9 or 10. And remember, these boys were responsible for performing the great choral works of Western music even into the 20th century. Adult female sopranos are a relatively recent development in music history. These children that join the adults in the church choir should still be encouraged to participate in a non-church ensemble. They should be singing repertoire beyond church music and having broader musical experiences.

Cantaria (detail of choir loft balcony) Luca della Robbia Marble, c. 1431 Duomo Museum, Florence

Stage 3: Adolescents need to be given ownership

By ages 13 or 14, most children will have solidly entered puberty. All the musical experience they’ll have acquired by this point can help carry them through that difficult physical and emotional transition. They should still work on singing technique as it applies to their changing voices. And, ideally, they will have the technical skill to tackle repertoire that speaks to their emotional turbulence and strengthens them in their difficulties. Young adults of this age group should absolutely still be participating in ensembles outside the church community, though they now should be more advanced ensembles. They should be singing a wide variety of repertoire and genres, so they can build a comprehensive vocal literacy. This will serve to aid them in their understanding and execution of church music. They can also be given extra responsibilities as church singers. Give them some conducting duties. Let them assemble a service. Have them sing in a small ensemble or even do a solo. Have them read in church. It has also been my experience that by this point in their development, children

are capable of finding those things that they simply need to do, that they feel enriched by, and in which they lose themselves because of their intense interest. So why haven’t more young adults shown an interest in church music? Sadly, I think it’s because we are often not giving them the chance to. To continue to engage and inspire children to sing through their adolescence requires that they have access to repertoire that they cannot sing alone. It requires that they have access to adult ensembles and performances that we generally treat as too challenging or mature for children. In order to really take music education seriously, adults must include the children in their own music making.

to train their singers in musicianship and to offer vocal coaching to adults, adolescents, and children. It’s not likely that you’ll find all these skills in a volunteer. However, it is something you can expect from a professional vocal music educator. In this plan we can easily see how a young person can be nurtured and encouraged into the role of a capable church musician at a much younger age than we currently tend to expect. And, except for the community ensembles that provide the broader experiences which I have found to be indispensable in the development of a life-long singer, there are no extra resources required on the part of the church choir director to include these young people in the work of church singing. It only requires a change in perspective and the treating of these children as truly valuable. Do a search for a children’s choir in your area. Ask around. Look into what your child’s school has to offer. There are many choral ensembles out there in all but the most rural areas. And if you don’t have one, start one, even if it’s only in your church community. Teach the children the troparia of the days of the week, of the 12 feasts, and of the saints dear to you, your family, and your church. Above all, get them singing together.

The Good News: Churches can do this

What’s the good news here? The training our adult singers need is the same as our children do. We can kill two birds with one stone as we work to revitalize a culture of singing in the Orthodox church. Parishes can move immediately into creating a program that will help address multiple problems. This does require that a church have a competent music director: someone with the ability not only to conduct an ensemble well, but 49

Maria Sheehan teaches music at St. Tikhon’s Seminary and Monastery, where she also directs a children's choir and a women's choir and sings professionally with the Saint Tikhon Choir. This article originally appeared on The Music Stand, a blog of Ancient Faith Ministries.

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Icons

in Sound: The Music of

Illustration: Tagor Vojnovic

Fr. Sergei Glagolev

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by HARRISON RUSSIN

t is commonplace to find the Orthodox Church’s music described as “icons in sound” (Google the phrase if you want proof ). This saying demonstrates how Orthodox Christians think visually, sometimes at the expense of the aural—though it’s a tendency that goes beyond the Orthodox Church. The field of sound studies has been developing since the early 2000s, and one of its unifying aspects has been to “temper a tendency to think of hearing as a ‘secondary sense’—secondary, that is, to vision” (from the Grove Music Online article on Sound studies). English vocabulary is indeed replete with multiple terms for sight—gaze, stare, look, gape, scrutinize, ogle, eyeball, among others; but there are fewer synonyms for hearing. Sight indeed imposes itself differently than sound, and it is a mistake to simply describe church music as “sounded icons” when the two media are different in nature. Furthermore, we have difficulty understanding what an icon is. The icon is undoubtedly the most distinctive artwork of the Orthodox Church, but the term does not solely signify the panel icons we are used to seeing in churches—not to mention greeting cards, refrigerator magnets, and bracelets. The earliest Christian concepts of iconography include materials and representations we rarely think about today—the very architecture of the church building, the decorations on the chalice, the ornate knee-high chancel barriers (which later developed into the modern iconostasis), the processional cross, and so on. While icons are often called “windows into heaven,” a more appropriate metaphor is the mirror. As Byzantine art historian Anna Kartsonis writes in her 1991 essay “The Responding Icon:” The icon . . . remains both constant and flexible in communicating the interrelation and interaction between the prototype, its representation, and

the faithful. It witnesses and confirms the objective and multiple reality of the event it represents, and its effectiveness for the beholder. In other words, the icon’s essence consists of both the image and its beholder, the text and its reader, and the music and its listener. Orthodox Church music has the tendency to invoke sentimentalism and nostalgia. We must carefully consider what that means for the reality that this “icon” bears witness to. That sentimental attachment underlies most arguments for singing Orthodox music in its original language: “It just sounds holier in Slavonic!” The work of the brilliant composer Fr. Sergei Glagolev, who was among the first to compose English-language pieces for Orthodox services, shows how music in our church can function in English. In his compositions, Fr. Sergei has always pushed against sentimentality. That is not to say his music is not beautiful—he displays compositional mastery in his diverse use of harmonies, voicing, and text settings. But, for Fr Sergei, the text holds primacy, and his musical settings serve the text. His music is written with American Orthodox in mind, and its essence—consisting of the music and its listener—obtains an awareness of the principles of Orthodox church singing and liturgy. Take, for example, his setting of the Communion Hymn (“Koinonikon”) for the Nativity of Our Lord—“The Lord Has Sent Redemption to His People.” The usual presentation of the Communion Hymn in the Slavic tradition is to sing it as recitational text on one chord. Fr Sergei instead gives us an alternation between a refrain and the Psalm verses, an ancient liturgical formula still preserved in our Prokeimenon and Alleluia verses, as well as other hymns like “Blessed is the Man.” The musical meter here is telling—we have 51

Mitered Archpriest Sergei Glagolev

four bars of four. Such regular meter is infrequent in the “traditional” Orthodox hymns of the Greek and Slavic traditions (and when we do have them, it is usually a giveaway that the composition is of recent, usually 19th- or 20th-century, vintage). The harmonic style is idiosyncratically American but draws upon historical and national references which inform the Orthodox experience in America today. It is inclusive in its scope, drawing the listeners—cradle, convert, immigrant, and native alike—to witness to the Lord’s promised redemption for His people. I think when most people speak of “icons in sound” they have in mind a strict discipline associated with Orthodox liturgical composition, the kind of censorship and rigor that barred the Russian composer Sergei Rachmaninoff ’s All-Night Vigil from being performed in church, and the kind of stoicism we are used to seeing in icon depictions of saints. But Fr. Sergei’s music opens another realm of meaning to “icons in sound,” icons which embrace the listener and reflect the jubilant reality of the Lord’s redemption.

Harrison Russin is a PhD candidate at Duke University and a lecturer in liturgical music at St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary. This article originally appeared on Synaxis, a blog of St. Vladimir's Orthodox Theological Seminary.

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Teens and Their Parents

by ANGELINA CHRISTOS

t’s no secret that people associate teenagers with bad decision-making. Adults tend to accuse us of being stubborn and rebellious; they think we don’t understand the consequences of our actions. This can be true on a certain level, and our parents are right to be concerned, because some decisions we make in our teenage years can affect the rest of our lives. But there are many factors that lead teens to do what they do. We would all benefit from trying to understand where the other side is coming from. Let me offer a few suggestions that might help. Parents: When your kids grow into their teenage years, they will need your help in some situations, but they also need to develop independence. It can be hard to find the right balance. In her paper, “Steps to Good Decision-Making Skills for Teens,” Amy Morin, a psychotherapist who teaches at Northeastern University, writes:

You have to figure out when to step in and when to let teens make mistakes. Teens: We have to realize that our tendency to trust our emotions over logic comes with risks. It’s part of our development. Scientists have established that we process information with the amygdala, the emotional part of our brains. It’s not something we can physically change. So, as teens we need to turn to God more and realize that He can help us. Praying and taking an active role in the church can save us from our bad decision-making, or at least reduce the harm. For an example, I suggest reading Letters to Saint Lydia by Melinda Johnson, a book about a girl who writes letters to her saint to get her through hard times. Even if we follow her lead, we’re bound to screw up sometimes. But we can try to learn from our mistakes and avoid hurting other people—especially our parents.

The key to helping your teen make

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the best decisions involves providing

Angelina Christos is a high-school

plenty of guidance, without overdoing it.

sophomore and a parishioner at the

Be willing to give input when necessary,

Orthodox Church of the Annunciation

but don't be afraid to step back.

in Brick, NJ

Trust and Vulnerability

Illustration: Tagor Vojnovic

A Teenager’s Reflections

by LARISA PAXTON

t’s hard being an Orthodox teenager. These are the years of our lives when we have to figure out what it means to be Orthodox in today’s society, and what it will mean to be Orthodox adults. We are supposed to accept and love everyone, no matter what. We are supposed to forgive everyone no matter what they did to us. Loving, trusting, and forgiving were three verbs I used to pretend do not exist. But, with the help of a good friend, and of course, God, they have become second nature to me. Like all young children, I was loving, trusting, and naive as a little girl. However, after some tough experiences in my early teens, I tried going to the opposite extreme. I kept getting hurt and walked all over, so I told myself that love is just a bunch of chemicals released in my brain that trick me into trusting people. It was a defense mechanism, a way to protect myself from mean girls and from guys who might break my heart. I slowly became detached from everyone. I could not trust my friends, my boyfriends, not even my family. I was alone.

Three years ago, when I was fifteen, I went to a church retreat in New York. I shared a room with a friend I had met at Saint Andrew’s Camp a few years before. In the middle of the retreat, late on Saturday night, I phoned the guy I’d been dating for a while. I introduced them via FaceTime. At the end of the call he said, “Goodnight, I love you,” like he did every night, and I replied with a “Goodnight” and hung up. My friend asked, “Don’t you tell him you love him back?” as she hopped off her bunk. Maybe I sounded like some coldhearted monster, but I was not about to let some boy make me vulnerable just so he could break my heart. My friend, on the other hand, disagreed. She sat up with me all night trying to convince me that love is not a “trap” or some scary science project. She recounted dozens of stories of times when love turned its back on her. She, too, had been bullied and had been dumped by boys, but she did not let that stop her from loving her family and friends. Love is scary, she said, but that shouldn’t stop us from letting people in. She said she’d learned to

forgive those who hurt her and to let go of those people in her life. That night I was convinced that maybe the “big L word” is not so terrifying after all. Now I realize that sometimes I need to let my guard down and not push feelings aside. If I love someone, they should know it, even if I may get hurt in the end. Some people are worthy of my taking that chance. It may not make sense in my brain, but I know now that it is OK to open up and be honest. It may be hard, but if God can love everyone on this Earth, then I can at least try to love and trust the very few people I am blessed to be connected to.

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Larisa Paxton is a high-school senior at the Marine Academy of Technology and Environmental Science and a parishioner at the Orthodox Church of the Annunciation in Brick, NJ

Color Me!

THE RESURRECTION OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST

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Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! Psalm 132:1 (LXX)

Jacob's Well - Spring 2019 - Tribal

Articles inside

Word from Our Archbishop: Some Thoughts on \"Tribalism\"

Letter From The Editor

A Dispatch From St. Andrews Camp

Blessing of Vehicles

St. Nick's Family Night

The Trouble with Tribalism

Managing Tribalism in Our Lives: Some Insights from Arab Thought

Church as Community - Change and Renewal of American Parishes

Orthodoxy & Nationalism

10 RULES for Talking Politics and Religion

Tribalism and Psychotherapy: An Interview with Fr. Panayiotis Tekosis

Embracing Suffering - St. Nilus and the Rewards of Asceticism

Worshipping with Our Children

The SAINT who refused to be Commander-in-Chief

\"Shine, Shine, New Jerusalem\": The Spirit of the Pentecostarion

Trinity and the Cosmos : An Interview with Planetary Geologist Kirby Runyon

Good Church Music Starts with Kids

Icons in Sound: The Music of Fr. Sergei Glagolev

Teens and Their Parents

Trust and Vulnerability