Agia Skepi

I have been trying to think of what to write about my pilgrimage to the monastery. There are things that are very hard to put into words. I'm going to give a basic account of what my days consisted of. (Leaving out some bits of information that are a little too private for the unfettered internet. If you want to ask me about it I'd be happy to talk to you in person.)

My drive up was a series of wind, traffic, rain, and hail. When I arrived at the monastery I was surprised to learn that I had beat the storm (by hours) and instead of rushing to the guest house trying to keep my things dry I gladly sat on the porch in the sun and listened to the birds and smelled the sister's amazing roses while I waited for my friends to arrive. I had arrived in the middle of Compline & Vespers, which I didn't know, and the whole property was empty and silent. There was something that originally stuck me as unreal about the place. Even the air was different. After some time, and some talk with friends, I realized it wasn't UNREAL, it was HYPER-REAL. This place was more real than anywhere else I had ever been before.
The guest house is laid out and organized like the world's greatest hostel. When Joanna arrived she took me into the church for the end of Vespers. The smell, of course, was intoxicating. The chanting was breathtaking. The language was Greek, which might have been a problem, but I will get to that in a moment. After vespers Sister Marina showed us to our room. Sister Marina is a tall pretty woman. As I typed pretty I realized that I would have described all the sisters as pretty, though they are all different shapes, sizes, and ages. I think the reason I feel compelled to describe them as pretty, or even beautiful, is because the love and humility they each have make it impossible to see them as anything else. People talk about inner beauty, this was so much inner beauty that it was spilling out of them.
Sister Marina is in charge of the guesthouse and she made sure we had food, pillows, clean sheets, and work. By Friday I was starting to listen hard for Sister Marina before meals so that I could go out and help her set the tables, otherwise she would do it so quickly and quietly it was almost like everything appeared there magically. I never felt tempted to just let her do it, which of course she wouldn't have minded, because the warmth of her thanks for even the smallest task (like filling a pitcher with tap water) was intoxicating. She tried to teach me a Greek phrase, which of course I can't transliterate, it is like thank you, but it literally means "you have lightened me". Her task is hospitality, and she is certainly up to it.
I tried to take a walk around the lower grounds at least once a day, it was just so pretty and so peaceful. Sometimes, especially if I was walking with Joanna who has been a regular at the Monastery for the last 15 years, a sister would stop and talk and we would be introduced. They would ask if I was Orthodox, and I would say "Not until July 30th" and each sister would say "Oh I will remember you in my prayers, especially on that day". Joanna says that having one of the sisters promise to pray for you is not like having someone else promise to pray for you, they mean it and they don't say it lightly. (Though they do say it often!!) One sister told us about the icons in the church and found us an akathist book in English to chant with a very special icon.
If you want to work, there is always work to do! On our first day we peeled garlic. There would have been too much for the punch bowl they gave us to put the peeled cloves in. Thankfully, the Greek men staying in the guesthouse while they did construction for the sisters kept coming through and eating garlic like peanuts. On Friday and Saturday we picked rose petals for jelly and helped Kyria Maria make wedding and baptism favors. Kyria Maria is a Greek woman whose family has designed wedding dresses, favors, candles, and the like for 3 or more generations. She is not a nun, but works at the monastery, and is a gifted artist. She has a way of upholding her perfectionist standards without hurting your feelings. (I now have it on good authority that I am not capable of wrapping candy covered almonds in tulle!) I thought I was crafty, but Kyria Maria is on a whole new level.
We talked with her for hours while we worked. She asked me about my background and I asked questions about Orthodox traditions. The conversations were slow, because her English is limited and my Greek is non-existent, but there was no rush.
Church was something else entirely. On Friday morning, Feast of the Nativity of the Forerunner, we went to Divine Liturgy at 3:30 in the morning. Of all the services we attended while we were there, this was my favorite. Partly, it was easier to keep up after Joanna was sweet enough to give me an early Chrismation gift, my very own prayer book in English. Partly it was ambiance. The church was lit only by oil lamps and candles. The sisters added a black veil to their habits in church. It didn't cover the face, but it cast a shadow. It made the sisters indistinguishable from one another. All you could see was a black shape and hands. It struck me as profound. These women found fulfillment, love, and joy in losing themselves to Christ's service. I pray that one day I can tame my passions and my desires are so simple and Godward.
Also on Friday I met the Father of the monastery, Fr. Mark. He is a Texan man who has been speaking mostly Greek for the last 20 years or so. It gives a very interesting quality to his big voice. He spoke to me about the importance of confession and absolution. He answered a question I had about iconography with a lesson in my inability to work out my salvation without the grace and love of Christ. And it was an AMAZING lesson! He told me there are a few monasteries near where I would be moving in Oregon and advised me to build a relationship with one.
On Saturday I met the Gerontissa, or Abbess, of the Monastery. (That is not a literal translation but an equivalent rank.) I had learned from Joanna that I was supposed to touch the ground in front of her and then kiss her left hand, but as a bent to touch the ground she embraced me and kissed my cheek. She wears love like a perfume. I keep thinking of it as a smell. It wasn't something I saw, though her eyes are kind and her smile is gentle. It's not her voice, though she has a beautiful voice whether she is speaking or singing. It's just something that I was aware of. You don't need her to look at you or speak to you to know that she loves you. In fact, you don't even have to meet her if you are willing to take my word for it that she loves you, even if she doesn't know you. She asked me about my conversion. She asked me about my husband. She told me that I should consider the monastery my home in the mountains. She also said I had to come back as often as I can until we move, and bring Brian with me. She ended our little chat by telling me that not only were there a few monasteries on the wets coast, but in fact their sister monastery was in Yakima, Washington and that I should go there as soon as I could and they would welcome me.
One of the more poignant moments was the last interaction I had before we drove off. Kyria Maria said in her broken English, "You must come back before you move so that we can go to Holy Communion together, we will be together." I almost cried.
I was changed for the better, and I am trying to make sure that I don't let it wear off. I don't know if I communicated any of this well, but there it is. It was good for me to work out for myself. I hope it is helpful for someone who reads it.




O Lady, Thou dost help us held fast by a storm of many afflictions: for Thou dost stand before the altar of the Lord, lifting Thine hands and praying that the Lord of glory look down on our unworthy prayer and hearken to the petitions of those who call upon Thy holy Name crying to Thy Son:Alleluia!


Kontakion 4 - Akathist to the Holy Protection of the Theotokos

The Future

Brian and I will be moving in approximately 90 days. We are packing only what we can fit into our Subaru, shipping the car across the country, and then heading out ourselves with our faithful puppy Peanut and misanthropic feline Anubis.
No, we do not have jobs. No, we do not have a place to live. But we do have a church, a partner, and a plan. We visited Church of the Annunciation in Milwaukie, Oregon when we were visiting Brian's family in April. When I came into the church I felt warm and many of my apprehension about moving to the other side of the country were softened. I knew that this ridiculous plan was a good one.
We, along with our friend Mylo, want to eventually have a farm (or manor as Mylo prefers to describe it) with a house and out buildings made of Cob. We want to live off of the land, and support ourselves by producing things. We want to extricate ourselves from consumer culture. We want to produce most of what we need in life. For those things we can't produce we want to barter first and buy second. We want to fund the buying by  producing, not by working for some business. Eventually, we want to produce enough to care for people we encounter who, through infirmity or ignorance, can not care for themselves.
We have always had this sort of idea in the back of our heads. We have always dreamed of a self-sufficient farm. But now we are done with dreaming, we are doing. Sure, we are starting with little steps, but we are acting and we are not allowing ourselves to fall into a complacent lifestyle of "one day" thinking. Our conversion is a big part of this decision.
There is a sense that by leaving Luther's Five Solas behind our lives must change. Just as leaving Sola Scriptura behind means relearning how to study Scripture and Theology; leaving Sola Fide changes how you make life choices. I am not saying that moving to a farm in Oregon and churning goat's milk somehow saves anyone. I am saying that when you understand that the eternal health of your soul is linked in a very real way to what you do on earth you start to think a little harder about the choices you make.
So off we go, to find a temporary house, some temporary jobs, and maybe even get some (permanent) Bachelor's Degrees from one of Oregon's fine, and fairly priced, universities. Oregonian culture does make our agrarian goals a little easier, but the main goal of our move is psychological. We are purging ourselves of all of those things we didn't realize we held. We are rejecting the Puritanical (and ultimately Unitarian) ideals so ingrained in East Coast thinking. We are rejecting the race to see how much can be gotten. We are rejecting the idea that punching a clock and pushing buttons in an effort to help others consume makes you productive. We are rejecting the idea that good and monetarily profitable are the same thing. Instead we are embracing the holistic ideals of the Eastern church and look forward (if that is how to say it) to seeing how much we can manage to live without while working to produce tangible, and good, things.
It may seem silly, but *MY* ultimate goal is to be able to sit in silence for extended periods of time without anxiety. I want to understand what it means to "be still and know that I am God."

Bittersweet Feast

Today is the prelude of joy for the universe!
Let us anticipate the feast and celebrate with 
exultation:
Gabriel is on his way to announce the glad 
tidings 
to the Virgin;
He is ready to cry out in fear and wonder:
Rejoice, O Full of Grace, the Lord is with You!


I have to say that The Feast of the Annunciation is a little bittersweet for me. I love the miracle of human reproduction. It is fascinating and awe-inspiring. What makes it even more so is this very feast. God The Word chose this process to redeem his race of Image Bearers. Whenever a woman has a child she is taking part in that same process. So I find myself so excited to celebrate this feast for the very first time tonight. There is the sweet.
As I meditate on The Theotokos carrying not only Life but the Light of Light, True God of True God, the One who was in the beginning, I can't help but wonder what it was like. Women who have carried children past the first few days or weeks must have a taste of her wonder. And a very literal  bitterness enters here. I am jealous. I want to understand the Incarnation and the Theotokos in the way that any woman who has given birth can. What makes it all the more painful is that many women, especially my Protestant dear ones, don't care. Today is just Friday. They have the opportunity to stand in front of Christ and His Mother and have just a glimpse of one of the most important moments in human history, and it is just Friday.
It is a similar feeling to when I read Facebook statuses about how exhausting children are and how parents wish that kids would just nap, or that they could go out on a date without having to find a babysitter. Now I don't think these aren't real frustrations and legitimate emotions. I don't think that these friends don't love their children with all their hearts. I don't even think they should keep their frustrations to themselves. But, it stings a little. I want to respond "I would give my life and everything I have for a sleepless night with a colicky infant rather than with my own depression."
So as people's Facebook statuses start to pop up with everyones Friday night plans, and laments of lost pre-baby weekends I'm going to be a little bitter. Because not only don't I have the baby, but tonight I will go to church for the feast and not have the experience of knowing that feeling of life inside of me to deepen my worship.
I think as long as I suffer from infertility this will be the hardest day of the Church Year for me.

Housekeeping

I think one of the jobs of a wife and a mother is to build and maintain a sanctuary for the ones she loves. Your home should be a place where your husband comes home at the end of a long day and feels at rest.

Well I suck at it. I get my house together and I have these great intentions. I don't know what happens after that. Its like entropy is stronger than I am. Then things get so bad that its overwhelming and I know it would take a whole day to get everything together, so I wait for a free day. Well by the time that day rolls around it gets so that it would take me a whole weekend. So I wait for a free weekend (which we never have). By the time a free weekend rolls around it is so bad that I would need a few days. See a pattern?

Brian and I are going to attack everything during the next couple of weeks... again. I have gotten my other stuff in order. I'm eating right. I'm exercising 6 days a week. I am in a time of change, I am forming new habits. I want to do whatever I have to do for home to be a haven for Brian when he comes home. I want a home that I would be proud to bring children into.

It is my job. I need to, in the terminology of the Roman church, build a domestic church. I need to ask myself, when I look at my home, how would I respond if I walked into a church and the sanctuary looked like my house looks. In this home I am the minister. It is through my work that my husband and future children are reminded of God's grace. I should maintain an environment that reminds them of God's provision in providing us a home. I should prepare meals that feed their bodies, but also makes them thankful for God's provision in feeding their bellies with something they enjoy.

When I was a kid we would go gem mining. I have sapphires and amethysts that I found in the dirt and they look like rocks. They have value because of what they are, but it is hard to appreciate them in that state. God's gifts are a lot like that. God provides a roof over our heads, but if its falling apart then it feels like a burden on us instead of a blessing. Food is always a blessing, but if it tastes bland or like chemicals then we are tempted to ask why we can't have good food. If I've done my job right then God's gifts to us should be more apparent then they were before.

"Marriage is more than human. It is a 'microbasileia,' a miniature kingdom which is the little house of the Lord." - St. Clement of Alexandria

My Favorite Moment

One of my favorite things in my life is preparing the table for the Eucharist on a Saturday night. The other ladies in the Altar Guild talk about getting over early and getting it out of the way. I understand the sentiment, and like all things there are days it is not as convenient or enjoyable as others, but I like to wait. I like to wait until the sun has gone down and everyone has gone home. I like to walk into the dark church. I like to turn on the single light above the altar instead of all the lights in the sanctuary. There is a palpable peace in that room then. There are no crying children, no laughing teenagers, or or chatty ladies. Brian is usually with me, but he finds a chair and a book and leaves me to my work.
When I walk up into the chancel I am acutely aware of where I am and what happens there. This is the place where the greatest things in my life happen. This is where I am fed. This is where I was married. This is where I was confirmed. Even when we are in another building, another city, I will be in the same place. This is a square of earth where men have been admitted to the Holy of Holies. This square of earth, and every other square of earth set aside for this purpose are the place where Christ's presence is particular. There is nothing remarkable about it on Saturday night, but tomorrow Christ will feed all those who call upon him in that place. The bread and wine I prepare will be host to the mysterious presence of Christ.
Tonight, I found myself thinking about the women going to the tomb. There was a ceremony to what they were doing, they knew the supplies they needed and the order in which to proceed. I gather my supplies and place everything properly, as I get more comfortable with the process it becomes like a dance. This ceremony held special significance because of their love of Jesus; it is the same devotion that has brought me here. There was a very practical aspect to their work, a body must be prepared properly. I take a moment to look at the calendar and decide how many people I think will be in church. Is it a holiday, or are the kids away on a trip? We want to have enough bread and wine, but not too much. I feel as if I am taking part in a tradition started late one Saturday night 2000 odd years ago.
I've gone to the church on Saturday nights when things just weren't going well. There was one night that I walked through that door and all the tears I had been holding back for days came out. I just knelt in the dark with my head on the rail and cried and prayed, mostly cried. I pulled myself together and started my dance. When I was done I had thought through the problem and had some semblance of an answer. There were no voices or visions, just peace, enough peace to recognize what I should have already known.
The funny thing is, I hate silence, it makes my uncomfortable. I feel like silence is an empty chasm that I might fall into. The silence in the church is different. It is full, like a feather bed, its warm and soft and all around me. It might be selfish, but I wish that I could be the Altar Guild all alone, so that I could be guaranteed that moment every week.

New Words For Old Thoughts

I said something on Sunday I had never said before. It just popped out of my mouth and it was so true but I hadn't thought it through and I hadn't planned to say it. I imagine it is what happens when fictional people fall in love without knowing it and those 3 little words just fly out.

"If my children ever came home and said 'I asked Jesus into my heart today' I think I will cry," and no I didn't mean tears if joy. It sounds weird or, if you happen to be an Evangelical, disturbing. But hear me out.

I don't remember not believing in God. I don't remember not believing in Jesus. But I do remember being told I had to have a conversion. So at five I said a prayer and it was supposed to change something, which it didn't. I still wasn't really a part of the church because I wasn't allowed either sacrament at 5. So why was it necessary? I didn't believe anything the next minute I didn't believe the minute before, or even the year before. It didn't give me access to my church. I was still an outsider looking up and in.

No one would ever have a baby, give them to an orphanage and say, "When this baby decides they want to join our family we will welcome them with open arms." So why would we exclude our children from the church until they can chose it? Why leave them spiritual orphans until they can verbalize something in the language of adults? Is it because we only understand salvation in a personal context? Is it because we've lead ourselves and our children to believe that there is salvation outside of the church? Do we believe that we each need to make our own path to God? Do we leave our infants to find their own way to food? Why leave them to find their own way to God?

I want the opposite experience for my children. I want to give them to the Lord as soon as possible. I want to tell them from that day forward that I loved them enough to give me away. Like Hannah, I prayed to have them, I cherished them, and so I gave the most precious thing I had to the Lord. This is not a hypothetical dedication. This is not a promise. I want to allow them to be grafted into the Body of Christ. I want to grasp all of those promises for them. 

They will be part of the church from the beginning. They will know that those promises are for them. They will know that by no merit or action of theirs they are the next generation of the covenant. One day the time will come for them to receive the Body and Blood of Christ and they will have been in our arms at the rail every week. They will have known, from before they can remember, what it is and why we do it. Then when it is their turn they will take all of those promises onto and into themselves. 

Finally, when they are old enough to verbalize all of these things they will stand in front of the bishop and he will ask them if they believe. They will confirm and be confirmed and they will stand on their own in the Lord, independent from me and from their father. The Lord will be the same yesterday, today and tomorrow for them. Nothing will change, if we've taught them and guided them well.

No one, if I have anything to say about it, will ask them for their testimony. There will be no pressure to tell a story of a fall from grace and a rescuing hand. They will, if my prayers are answered, be one of the 99 sheep who remained safe in the pen warm from the night and protected from the wolves by their family and the faithful shepherds serving their master. And if they ever feel the need to "pray the sinner's prayer" then I will cry because I failed them as their mother and I have failed the Lord as a shepherd. 

Why My Heart Is Breaking

Then said Elkanah her husband to her, Hannah, why weepest thou? and why eatest thou not? and why is thy heart grieved? am not I better to thee than ten sons? So Hannah rose up after they had eaten in Shiloh, and after they had drunk. Now Eli the priest sat upon a seat by a post of the temple of the LORD. And she was in bitterness of soul, and prayed unto the LORD, and wept sore. And she vowed a vow, and said, O LORD of hosts, if thou wilt indeed look on the affliction of thine handmaid, and remember me, and not forget thine handmaid, but wilt give unto thine handmaid a man child, then I will give him unto the LORD all the days of his life, and there shall no razor come upon his head. And it came to pass, as she continued praying before the LORD, that Eli marked her mouth. Now Hannah, she spake in her heart; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard: therefore Eli thought she had been drunken. And Eli said unto her, How long wilt thou be drunken? put away thy wine from thee. And Hannah answered and said, No, my lord, I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit: I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before the LORD. Count not thine handmaid for a daughter of Belial: for out of the abundance of my complaint and grief have I spoken hitherto. Then Eli answered and said, Go in peace: and the God of Israel grant thee thy petition that thou hast asked of him. And she said, Let thine handmaid find grace in thy sight. So the woman went her way, and did eat, and her countenance was no more sad. - 1 Samuel 1:8-18

"For Hannah, having a child was the ultimate expression of her relationship with God," according to Holly Pavlov, author of Mirrors of Our Lives- Reflections of Women in Tanach. "It was as a mother, she felt, that she could serve God best. Therefore, her bitterness was a spiritual distress, an expression of spiritual loss. This prayer, then, was not merely about her own needs, but about her ability to serve God." (Found this here.)

I conceived a child a year ago. The timing is debatable and the midwives and I never bothered to nail down an exact date. Suffice it to say that it was about a year ago. I had a miscarriage, which is also nothing new. I've spent the last year trying to get it together. Trying to fix everything in my life that might have been wrong. There is a long list of things that might cause a loss as early as mine.
I cut down my caffeine intake. I don't take NSAIDs. I have been exercising (got out of it the last couple weeks, but anyway.) I have quit smoking. I don't drink often or much. I take vitamins and herbs. I am attempting to eat whole foods. Even my ridiculous dinner tonight had only 1 ingredient that was processed.
Yet, everyday coke-heads, 300 pound Jerry Springer guests, and other sundry women get pregnant. I really thought I was okay. I'm studying to be a labor doula. There was this whole part about my own issues and dealing with them. I thought that I had put it all in its proper Westminster Catachism perspective.
Then I started getting healthier. I had a period naturally for the first time in over 2 years. This meant things were suppose to be getting on track. I was thrilled to have another one. Unlike other women who are trying to have a baby I look at it as a sign that my body is doing what it is meant to do. But the second one didn't come. And then I threw up. And then the smell of the court room in Media on Monday had my so nauseated I was sweating. And then we took a test and it was negative. I was so sure this time. I've thought I might be pregnant before. But never this sure.
Yes, we can adopt. We have always planned to adopt even if we did have biological children. But, it all comes back to giving birth. I want to be a midwife. I want to be a doula. I have a passion for childbirth. My studies convinced me that birth has a distinct spiritual and theological significance. It is the reason I believe what I do about God and what it means to be a woman. Yet right now I feel very sure I am never going to experience it. I believe in predestination. I knew someone once who believed in God and predestination but believed that he wasn't chosen. Thats how I feel. I feel like I know all about this thing and how special and wonderful it can be but I will never have it.
So my heart is broken. So I am embarrassed. So I am depressed. So I don't feel a whole lot like celebrating my second wedding anniversary. So I don't feel much like doing much of anything.

Headcovering

So there are people who have some theories on why I have begun to wear head coverings in church.

1- I believe that everything in the Bible is to be taken literally and the culture of the writing is irrelevant.

2- I am trying to be more "Catholic".

3- I have a some kind of drive to rebel.

4- I have been brainwashed by my ultra-conservative upbringing into not thinking for myself and allowing myself and other women to be subjugated.

One through three have some amount of truth. The fourth is just ridiculous and obviously spoken by someone who has never met my mother.

I do believe that everything in the bible is true and that it was written when and how it was for a reason and that there is something to be gleaned from almost every verse in the Bible. There is the one exception of that greeting Paul has about his coat, but when I get to heaven I am asking what that was about! But my choice to cover my head comes from an understanding of the cultural context, not an ignorance of it.

A woman with her head uncovered speaking in an educated way in Corinth was a courtesan. So women were to cover their heads and not speak in public gatherings so that the upstanding citizens of Corinth did not assume that Christian women were women of ill repute. The respect for women comes in here, Paul never said stop educating Christian women.

So what does that have to do with me then? Nobody assumes I'm a call girl because I don't where a head covering. Well when you see me in a head covering you make some other assumptions. You assume my belief in traditional gender roles and I am set apart from other women. In a society that is working very hard to destroy the delineations between the genders this is my way of saying "Not me! I am a woman and I strive to play a woman's role."

I am trying to be more catholic. I am not trying to be more Catholic. I am trying to be in line with the church universal. Not just the modern church but the church that has existed for 2000 years. It isn't until the mid 19th Century that ANY creedal denomination condones a woman entering the sanctuary uncovered.

That leads to number three. I do have a need to rebel. I have a need to rebel against the modern church claiming an exclusive right to define a faith that is two millenia in the making. If this were truth, and God was in control, why would he allow his church to continue in darkness for 1875 years and then imbue American theologians with knowledge and understanding which he denied his children, and his bride, for that long? I rebel against the arrogance of modernity (and post-modernity) that says that somehow we are better equipped now than ever before to understand the nature of truth. Was God simply waiting for Americans to evolve from the lesser Christians in order that his will would truly be known?

I am not asking anyone to join me. I'm just asking you to consider what banners you chose to stand under.