The Lives of the Three Great Hierarchs: Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian, and John Chrysostom (Translated from The Lives of the Saints in the Russian Language, According to the Menology of St. Dimitri of Rostov).
Published by Dormition Skete: Buena Vista, CO (ROCOR)
January 29 is the Feast Day of the Three Great Hierarchs. It was a joy to celebrate Vespers on their feast day last year at St. Barbara’s monastery with friends from St. Michael in Whittier. Besides hearing Father Josiah of St. Andrew Orthodox Church in Riverside, some friends from UCLA were there as well, and the trip was more than enjoyable.
On another note, I was blessed to see that there is an Eastern Orthodox presence in Buena Vista, Colorado. I spent a month in this beautiful, isolated, country town in the summer of 1997 volunteering at a Young Life family retreat center. I ended up being the "baker" for the month and loved making fresh bread every morning and cookies in the afternoon. I rejoice that prayer is going on in this mountain village day and night and thank God for having spent time (though unaware at the time) in this particular mountain town.
Regarding this particular book, it is enjoyable as it is full of narratives regarding events in the lives of each of these Great Saints. I loved the story of St. Basil after embracing the Christian faith, returned to where he had received his philosophical training in Athens and began discoursing with his former teacher Ebbulus and revealed to him the truth of the Christian faith. The obedience of St. Gregory to the wishes of his pious parents that prevented him from leaving for a more secluded monastic life, show an ancient example of the importance of loving those around us so that we may confess Father, Son and Holy Spirit. And lastly, St. John Chrysostom’s boldness that led him to being exiled twice and ultimately to his death and the final translations of his relics back to Constantinople reveal a life that brought the Gospel to the world.
And in answer to the question if the gift of "speaking in tongues" has taken place since Pentecost we find an example when St. Ephraim the Syrian goes to visit St. Basil:
"When afterwards, at Basil’s residence, they sat down to eat, the venerable Ephraim said to the holy Basil: "Most holy father, one favor alone do I ask of thee; be gracious enough to grant it to me!" Basil the Great replied to him: "Say what thou needest. I am greatly obliged to thee for thine effort, for it is for my sake that thou hast undertaken so long a journey." " I know father," said the right-honored Ephraim, "that God grantest thee all thou askest of Him; and I wish that thou wouldst entreat His goodness, that He grant me the ability to speak Greek." ...
"Choosing an auspicious time, they began to pray in church and spent a considerable time in prayer. Then the great Basil said: "Honored father, why dost thou not accept ordination to the priestly rank, for thou art worthy thereof?" Because I am a sinful man, O master, "Ephraim answered him through the interpreter. "O, if only I had only thy sins!" said Basil, and added: "Let us make a prostration to the ground." When they had cast themselves down, the holy Basil placed his hand upon the head of the venerable Ephraim and uttered the prayer appointed for the ordination of a deacon. Then he said to the venerable one: "Now do thou give the command that we rise from the ground." At that moment Ephraim suddenly began to understand the Greek language, and he himself said in Greek: "Help us, save us, have mercy on us, and keep us O God, by Thy grace. Everyone glorified God, Who had given Ephraim the ability to understand and to speak in Greek."
Saturday, January 27, 2007
"The Feasts of Memory"
The Feasts of Memory: Stories of a Greek Family by Elias Kulukundis
The tales of this Greek family come from the small island of Kasos, situated to the northeast of Crete and to the southwest of Rhodes. The largest impressions from these stories are how the life on an island differs from one who lives on the mainland. Islanders seem more prone to religious superstition, xenita or loss of the native land as the nearby sea draws them away, but they are less drastically affected by the devastation of war.
This book is worth reading for a few of its hilarious stories, but none is more comical yet tragic than "The Hollow Crown" or the story of the most eligible bachelor on the island and his search for his wife. I am tempted to relay the story, but I think it would be more fun passing it on through the oral route, and by story-telling abilities need to be practiced more :). So, feel free to ask me in person to relay this story and remind me of the words proxenia and mandinadhas and the words of the bachelor’s mother:
"The girl you marry will be clever and obedient, respectful and intelligent. She must have not only a house and a dowry, but also fields and vineyards falling to her name in all the regions of the island. She must have mills and sheepfolds, chapels and holy icons and many gold napoleons woven on her breast with golden thread. She must be the first daughter of a first daughter, descended in direct lineage from a noble Kasiot family, a true princess of the island."
And let me not forget the names of the two girls: Marika Yeroyioryis and Fifika Phillipides, the custom not being able to marry during Great Lent, and of the response of two unsuspecting bachelors: Pavlos the tailor and Kosta the cobbler.
The tales of this Greek family come from the small island of Kasos, situated to the northeast of Crete and to the southwest of Rhodes. The largest impressions from these stories are how the life on an island differs from one who lives on the mainland. Islanders seem more prone to religious superstition, xenita or loss of the native land as the nearby sea draws them away, but they are less drastically affected by the devastation of war.
This book is worth reading for a few of its hilarious stories, but none is more comical yet tragic than "The Hollow Crown" or the story of the most eligible bachelor on the island and his search for his wife. I am tempted to relay the story, but I think it would be more fun passing it on through the oral route, and by story-telling abilities need to be practiced more :). So, feel free to ask me in person to relay this story and remind me of the words proxenia and mandinadhas and the words of the bachelor’s mother:
"The girl you marry will be clever and obedient, respectful and intelligent. She must have not only a house and a dowry, but also fields and vineyards falling to her name in all the regions of the island. She must have mills and sheepfolds, chapels and holy icons and many gold napoleons woven on her breast with golden thread. She must be the first daughter of a first daughter, descended in direct lineage from a noble Kasiot family, a true princess of the island."
And let me not forget the names of the two girls: Marika Yeroyioryis and Fifika Phillipides, the custom not being able to marry during Great Lent, and of the response of two unsuspecting bachelors: Pavlos the tailor and Kosta the cobbler.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Ice Skating and my Australian Visa
I received notification of my "nomination number" yesterday evening which gives me to go ahead to complete the final step of getting to Australia.
And it has been QUITE the process.
I filled out the final application this morning, and at the same time accepted a 6 hour nursing shift for the afternoon. Well, of course, it took me longer than expected, and I rushed out of my house to make two needed stops before work. As usual, being in a hurry was pretty detrimental.
Five minutes later, I was ice skating while sitting in my car, and promtly landed in the ditch. Hooray...it had to happen sooner or later on these ice-ridden, dirt roads :). I was going pretty slow, and though I knew I was sliding, I thought I could continue to slide around the corner. Instead, I did a 360 turn and barely missed hitting a stop sign.
But the virtues of Kansans didn't take long to manifest themselves, as soon, I had three men, and three trucks pulled over and with the help of some chains and a truck, in ten minutes I was back on the road again.
So, now I am sitting in Kinkos, and though there is a small question I have before I can "lodge" my application, I will still be at work on time and hopefully will be looking for airplane tickets tonight. Lord willing, this part of the visa process will go faster.
And it has been QUITE the process.
I filled out the final application this morning, and at the same time accepted a 6 hour nursing shift for the afternoon. Well, of course, it took me longer than expected, and I rushed out of my house to make two needed stops before work. As usual, being in a hurry was pretty detrimental.
Five minutes later, I was ice skating while sitting in my car, and promtly landed in the ditch. Hooray...it had to happen sooner or later on these ice-ridden, dirt roads :). I was going pretty slow, and though I knew I was sliding, I thought I could continue to slide around the corner. Instead, I did a 360 turn and barely missed hitting a stop sign.
But the virtues of Kansans didn't take long to manifest themselves, as soon, I had three men, and three trucks pulled over and with the help of some chains and a truck, in ten minutes I was back on the road again.
So, now I am sitting in Kinkos, and though there is a small question I have before I can "lodge" my application, I will still be at work on time and hopefully will be looking for airplane tickets tonight. Lord willing, this part of the visa process will go faster.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Father Cleopa
Shepherd of Souls: The Life and Teaching of Elder Cleopa Master of Inner Prayer and Spiritual Father of Romania (1912-1998) by Archimandrite Ioanichie Balan This book is highly recommendable due to the great spiritual insight of Elder Cleopa, and the help the book gives in understanding the Romanian Orthodox Church’s history. When I became Eastern Orthodox no one was more startled than my Protestant, Romanian friends (whether Baptist or Pentecostal) who have been taught that the children they were raised with who were Orthodox had a spirituality that was ritualistic and meaningless. I have heard more than one Romanian express the understanding that Orthodox are people who cross themselves when they see a church, but whose religion goes little beyond that outward ritual. So, now I have a Romanian Orthodox figure to introduce them to (if they are so interested) to help them gain a better understanding of the depths of Orthodox Christianity that have been painfully planted in their country over the centuries.
Most of this book is about the life of Father Cleopa but the last chapter is his words and instructions which cause one to want to read more of this personal writings. Father Cleopa’s life was one of humility, suffering, discipline, and love for Christ and the Church. He learned the teachings of the Fathers of the Church while being a shepherd at a monastery, and he learned suffering from having to flee into the forest on several occasions where he remained over a period of several years to prevent being arrested by the Communists. Here are a few of my favorite short quotes from the book:
When someone wanted to take a picture of the Elder, Fr. Cleopa would say to him, "Look for a donkey, take its picture, and write on it ‘Cleopa’".
When asked by the faithful whether it was good to read the Psalter, Father Cleopa would say, "St. Basil the Great says that ‘it is better for the sun to stop its journey than for the Psalter to remain unread in the homes of Christians.’ Let us approach the Psalter like we eat a good cake. When you are hungry, you cut another piece and eat a little more; likewise do a little more work and then read another kathisma, or two or three, as many as you can."
Father Cleopa: "Have the heart of a son toward God, the mind of a judge toward yourself, and toward your neighbor, the heart of a mother."
Father Cleopa: "Have the heart of a son toward God, the mind of a judge toward yourself, and toward your neighbor, the heart of a mother."
"Let us have the conviction that every moment we anger God. Without this humility from the heart, we cannot be saved."
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Saturday, January 13, 2007
"Eleni"
Eleni: A Savage War, A Mother’s Love, and A Son’s Revenge: A Personal Story
By Nicholas Gage
Village culture has traditionally provided the framework in which Greeks understand the world, and it is an honor to be able through the investigations of the author to be drawn into an understanding of the culture of the village Lia in Northern Greece. Lia is a village in the Mourgana Mountain range near the Albanian border. The story begins in the early 1940s and follows the events of the Gazoyiannis family from their pre-WWII peaceful existence to the uprising of the Communist party, through WWII, and finally through the brutality that came with the civil war between the Communists and the Conservative Nationalists.
It is the story of a mother trying to raise four girls and a boy in the midst of this intense time of struggle without the help of her husband, who is working in New York.
Russia was the only Allied country to suffer more than Greece during WWII with over 8% of the population dying either directly from the hand of the Germans or indirectly from starvation due to the plundering of their resources (Broome, 1996). However, what startled me most was the internal conflict that was brewing in Greece even during the Greeks proud moment of resistance to Mussolini’s forces in 1940 and the subsequent German occupation in 1941. Internal fighting between EDES (Conservative Nationalists) and ELES (Communists) had already begun, and after the collapse of the country in WWII they intensified their efforts to take over the vacuum of power that had been created in Greece.
The Gazoyiannis family ends up being in the center of this conflict as the Communist forces root themselves into the Mourgana Mountains. Eleni had the sense to flee Lia in June of 1947 when she feared that the Communists were coming back, but her husband in America writes:
“You have no business going anywhere. If they’re fighting in the spring right above the house, you stay in your home with your children. After all who are these andartes (the Communist fighters)? They’re Greeks, fellow villagers some of them, fighting for their rights. I have worked for my living all my life and never bothered anyone. Why should they bother my family?”
When the Communist indeed come back Eleni’s father flees without even saying good-bye to his daughter, her brother-in-law selfishly refuses to be burdened with the responsibility of some of Eleni’s children, and finally when a kind friend offers to take Eleni’s two oldest girls (knowing that the Communists will most likely draft them into service), Eleni rushes home to get them ready. However, her husband’s instruction not to flee the city, and the indecency of allowing her daughters to travel with a non-related male who they had no business even talking to according to village custom, made her change her mind.
For most Western females her decision is astounding, yet, the village culture, is not so easily discarded for Eleni even in the midst a time when the chief principle is one of self-preservation.
Under the occupation of the Communists, life in Lia becomes a nightmare. The Gazoyiannis home is chosen as the headquarters for the party, and eventually they are kicked out of their home. The two eldest daughters are forced to be conscripted as soldiers (and wear pants…shocking!), and only the brilliant act of Eleni of pouring boiling water over her daughter Olga’s foot and when that is unsuccessful in crippling her, the hot coals of the fire burned onto the foot by the grandmother, are able to save at least one of the children from being drafted. The deterioration of trust between the villagers who have lived their entire lives in close proximity to one another is most tragic as they betray each other for the sake of their own survival.
The controversial "pedomasoma" or literally “the gathering up of children” policy stated that all children between the ages of three and fourteen in the occupied regions of northern Greece would be collected and sent to “people’s democracies” behind the Iron Curtain in order to protect them from conservatives. When Eleni was told that she was expected to send her youngest son Nickoli away she understood that she needed to escape from the village. Though their were guards stationed around the perimeter, skirmishes almost nightly nearby with the conservative troops, and mine fields surrounding the village slopes she conspires with a relative to plan the escape.
The details of the escape will not be discussed, but from the beginning of the novel the author never hides the fact that his mother ended up being tortured and killed by the Communists in her own village but is successful in saving her family.
I was hesitant to read this book initially, as the author (a former New York Times investigative reporter) conducts his entire investigation of the events of the village in the hope of discovering who is culpable for his mother’s murder. However, the confrontation between the author and the one responsible for his mother’s death does take place at the end of the novel, and he prevails in embodying the spirit of his fierce yet loving mother.
In a simple, secluded village, we find a cosmos. The abyss of the human soul and the tragedy of civilians in the midst of a revolution come to life in this historic novel.
By Nicholas Gage
Village culture has traditionally provided the framework in which Greeks understand the world, and it is an honor to be able through the investigations of the author to be drawn into an understanding of the culture of the village Lia in Northern Greece. Lia is a village in the Mourgana Mountain range near the Albanian border. The story begins in the early 1940s and follows the events of the Gazoyiannis family from their pre-WWII peaceful existence to the uprising of the Communist party, through WWII, and finally through the brutality that came with the civil war between the Communists and the Conservative Nationalists.
It is the story of a mother trying to raise four girls and a boy in the midst of this intense time of struggle without the help of her husband, who is working in New York.
Russia was the only Allied country to suffer more than Greece during WWII with over 8% of the population dying either directly from the hand of the Germans or indirectly from starvation due to the plundering of their resources (Broome, 1996). However, what startled me most was the internal conflict that was brewing in Greece even during the Greeks proud moment of resistance to Mussolini’s forces in 1940 and the subsequent German occupation in 1941. Internal fighting between EDES (Conservative Nationalists) and ELES (Communists) had already begun, and after the collapse of the country in WWII they intensified their efforts to take over the vacuum of power that had been created in Greece.
The Gazoyiannis family ends up being in the center of this conflict as the Communist forces root themselves into the Mourgana Mountains. Eleni had the sense to flee Lia in June of 1947 when she feared that the Communists were coming back, but her husband in America writes:
“You have no business going anywhere. If they’re fighting in the spring right above the house, you stay in your home with your children. After all who are these andartes (the Communist fighters)? They’re Greeks, fellow villagers some of them, fighting for their rights. I have worked for my living all my life and never bothered anyone. Why should they bother my family?”
When the Communist indeed come back Eleni’s father flees without even saying good-bye to his daughter, her brother-in-law selfishly refuses to be burdened with the responsibility of some of Eleni’s children, and finally when a kind friend offers to take Eleni’s two oldest girls (knowing that the Communists will most likely draft them into service), Eleni rushes home to get them ready. However, her husband’s instruction not to flee the city, and the indecency of allowing her daughters to travel with a non-related male who they had no business even talking to according to village custom, made her change her mind.
For most Western females her decision is astounding, yet, the village culture, is not so easily discarded for Eleni even in the midst a time when the chief principle is one of self-preservation.
Under the occupation of the Communists, life in Lia becomes a nightmare. The Gazoyiannis home is chosen as the headquarters for the party, and eventually they are kicked out of their home. The two eldest daughters are forced to be conscripted as soldiers (and wear pants…shocking!), and only the brilliant act of Eleni of pouring boiling water over her daughter Olga’s foot and when that is unsuccessful in crippling her, the hot coals of the fire burned onto the foot by the grandmother, are able to save at least one of the children from being drafted. The deterioration of trust between the villagers who have lived their entire lives in close proximity to one another is most tragic as they betray each other for the sake of their own survival.
The controversial "pedomasoma" or literally “the gathering up of children” policy stated that all children between the ages of three and fourteen in the occupied regions of northern Greece would be collected and sent to “people’s democracies” behind the Iron Curtain in order to protect them from conservatives. When Eleni was told that she was expected to send her youngest son Nickoli away she understood that she needed to escape from the village. Though their were guards stationed around the perimeter, skirmishes almost nightly nearby with the conservative troops, and mine fields surrounding the village slopes she conspires with a relative to plan the escape.
The details of the escape will not be discussed, but from the beginning of the novel the author never hides the fact that his mother ended up being tortured and killed by the Communists in her own village but is successful in saving her family.
I was hesitant to read this book initially, as the author (a former New York Times investigative reporter) conducts his entire investigation of the events of the village in the hope of discovering who is culpable for his mother’s murder. However, the confrontation between the author and the one responsible for his mother’s death does take place at the end of the novel, and he prevails in embodying the spirit of his fierce yet loving mother.
In a simple, secluded village, we find a cosmos. The abyss of the human soul and the tragedy of civilians in the midst of a revolution come to life in this historic novel.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
The Princess and the Goblins: by George Macdonald
One of the nicest things about my move to Kansas as I continue to wait for my Australian business visa, is the added time in this State to read, and study Greek. I have started working as a "registry nurse" and even when I commute to a different city, my commute is incomparably better than my commute from Whittier to West Los Angeles that I was making the past few months. Plus, I have no friends my age here, thus most of my evening are spent at my desk and sitting on my bed reading and talking on the phone. Winter in the city of Topeka, Kansas simply does not offer many distractions. My hope is to post some reflections on some of the books I have been reading.
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The Princess and the Goblins: by George MacDonald
I feel I missed out as a child by not being introduced to George MacDonald’s fairy tales, but the present joy of reading them and giving them as gifts to my nephew easily removes any lurking resentment.
George MacDonald’s writing make the soul feel light and simple. It makes the soul want to wholeheartedly embrace goodness. For example the following sentence is a good example of the way moral truths are plainly stated: “Not to be believed does not at all agree with a princess; for a real princess cannot lie.” In isolation, this line sounds a bit dull, but in the context of the mysterious and unfolding story they are not read as boring, moral mandates.
However, perhaps I should begrudge not reading these stories when I was younger. Though I can gain enjoyment from George MacDonald’s style and creativity, is my soul as mutable as a 27 year-old to reflecting the goodness it sees in these books as it would have been as a young child? Perhaps not “as”, yet I don’t want to believe that I am wasting my time by reading these delightful, simple works.
At one point Curdie does not believe in and is not able to see the existence of Princess Irene’s “grandmother.” He has no reason not to trust the words of the princess, and thus comes to see he is in the wrong for discrediting her. Later, his own lack of belief comes to haunt him when his words that are needed to save the princess’ life are taken as delusional by the King’s guards.
Though this lesson of the importance of placing trust in those who are trustworthy is nice, the grandmother’s words to the princess upon helping her be compassionate toward Curdie’s lack of ability to see the truth are even nicer:
“But in the meantime, you must be content to be misunderstood for a while. We are all very anxious to be understood, and it is very hard not to be. But there is one thing much more necessary.”
“What is that grandmother?”
“To understand other people.”
“Yes, grandmother. I must be fair—for if I’m not fair to other people, I’m not worth being understood myself, I see. So as Curdie can’t help it, I will not be vexed with him, but just wait.”
---------------------
The Princess and the Goblins: by George MacDonald
I feel I missed out as a child by not being introduced to George MacDonald’s fairy tales, but the present joy of reading them and giving them as gifts to my nephew easily removes any lurking resentment.
George MacDonald’s writing make the soul feel light and simple. It makes the soul want to wholeheartedly embrace goodness. For example the following sentence is a good example of the way moral truths are plainly stated: “Not to be believed does not at all agree with a princess; for a real princess cannot lie.” In isolation, this line sounds a bit dull, but in the context of the mysterious and unfolding story they are not read as boring, moral mandates.
However, perhaps I should begrudge not reading these stories when I was younger. Though I can gain enjoyment from George MacDonald’s style and creativity, is my soul as mutable as a 27 year-old to reflecting the goodness it sees in these books as it would have been as a young child? Perhaps not “as”, yet I don’t want to believe that I am wasting my time by reading these delightful, simple works.
At one point Curdie does not believe in and is not able to see the existence of Princess Irene’s “grandmother.” He has no reason not to trust the words of the princess, and thus comes to see he is in the wrong for discrediting her. Later, his own lack of belief comes to haunt him when his words that are needed to save the princess’ life are taken as delusional by the King’s guards.
Though this lesson of the importance of placing trust in those who are trustworthy is nice, the grandmother’s words to the princess upon helping her be compassionate toward Curdie’s lack of ability to see the truth are even nicer:
“But in the meantime, you must be content to be misunderstood for a while. We are all very anxious to be understood, and it is very hard not to be. But there is one thing much more necessary.”
“What is that grandmother?”
“To understand other people.”
“Yes, grandmother. I must be fair—for if I’m not fair to other people, I’m not worth being understood myself, I see. So as Curdie can’t help it, I will not be vexed with him, but just wait.”
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